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lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

Double edged scalpel ch. 3

Ch.1 Ch.2

Summary: "it matches your eyes"

----

Cleaning Cassandra’s study became routine. Once a week, her chores were swapped for a two way -for now- trip to the dungeons. Despite every other maid looking at her with utter pity in their eyes, the redhead was not really complaining. She would take Cassandra’s mock autopsies and weird collection of specimens over dusting an ancient opera hall any day. It gave her an odd sense of nostalgia, almost as if she was back with her classmates studying forensic pathology and a friend threatening to throw a severed hand at her.

She also got to see glimpses of Cassandra. Not that they talked, oh no, the brunette would simply observe her and come up with the occasional task to get a raise out of Nicole and, when it failed to do so, she would grumpily go back to whatever she was doing prior. Her study, however, was an open book. While cleaning the shelves by the desk, Nicole took her time to read the title on each and every worn spine of her books. A lot of them more or less outdated medical books, some relatively modern looking textbooks, even an occasional novel tucked in between its more science oriented siblings. The adjacent wall was full of what looked like hand drawn diagrams, messy notes pinned by tape or even sticky notes. Nicole even noticed a family photo taped to that same wall. It was black and white, with the castle’s courtyard in the background, the three sisters standing in front of their mother.

Cassandra was sitting in her chair, occupying herself with her sickle when all of a sudden she stilled. She pulled out her pocket watch, softly cursed under her breath and pushed herself out of the chair. She was about to exit the room when she probably realized that Nicole was not supposed to be there by herself.

“Ugh...Follow me. I can’t leave you here alone and I need to get something.”

With the mop abandoned by a wall, Nicole followed the brunette’s hurried steps through the main hallways of the castle, occasionally crossing paths with another staff member. It took no more than five minutes to get to their destination. Bela and Daniela could be heard from inside a room near the castle’s main entrance when Cassandra pushed open its ornate door and stepped inside. Nicole took two steps behind her when a familiar voice called out.

“Ah, Nicole darling! I see you’ve settled in,” Duke said in his usual cheerful tone.

It did little to stop her stomach from sinking a little when three sets of golden eyes snapped in her direction. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care when he went on. “I hope my favorite clients here are treating you well.” Oh god please shut up. “Lady Cassandra! Your package is also here.”

She wordlessly took a wrapped box from him and, with a thanks, went out the door. Not wanting to fall behind, Nicole gave Duke a small wave and a smile before turning around to follow. She had to almost jog to keep up with her long strides. Damn you short legs.

“How on earth do you know him?” Cassandra’s question was accompanied by narrowed eyes.

Was there any point in lying? Lady Dimitrescu already knew so her ever so nice middle daughter could always find out too.

“He’s the one that brought me here.”

“From the village?”

Nicole rubbed her temples. “From a hotel bar in the nearest big city.” She was beyond done with this conversation.

Cassandra stopped in her tracks, grabbing the other girl's shoulders when she almost crashed into her. Was that a genuine trace of concern in her eyes?

“You mean you’re not from here? Does mother know?”

Nicole nodded, but before she had time to add anything else, another voice called out for the brunette from behind the pair. It was Bela, the sound of heels on the marble floors echoing around them as she approached.

“Cassandra, dinner is in two hours.”

“And?”

“And you said you would take care of the meat. Did you?”

The blonde scoffed at her sister’s widened eyes, then hooked a finger around the chain connected to Cassandra’s watch and clicked her tongue when she saw the time.

“If you insist on carrying this around at all times, you could at least start making use of it. You have around twenty minutes.” Her voice was icy cold, as opposed to Cassandra’s stammered reply.

“Wait, can you stall the cook for a bit, there’s no way I can do two bodies in twenty minutes!”

“Sorry Cassandra, that’s out of my hands.” And with that, the blonde turned on her heels and left the two of them at the entrance of the dungeons, Cassandra damn near seething.

The two wasted no time in hastily descending the stony dungeon steps, Nicole going back to the study while Cassandra went towards the cells. After no more than two minutes, she came in and haphazardly threw a body on each table.

The most logical thing to do would be to go about her chores and not risk attracting the brunette's wrath upon herself. But logic was out the window the moment she stepped foot into the Duke's caravan to come to this place. Besides, staying on Cassandra's good side was far better than mopping the floor in hopes she wouldn't snap one day and throw her in one of the moldy cells.

"Would you like some help with those?" Nicole asked tentatively.

"Can you help?" Cassandra didn't even look in her direction, only throwing a hand in the air and taking out what looked like freezer safe bags from a cupboard.

"...Yeah."

Golden eyes turned to her and the brunette stilled for a second. Skepticism and confusion both obvious on her face at the idea of this small meek maid offering to help out in chopping up a human body. She realized however that the alternative wasn't much better so with a raised eyebrow she put a scalpel and a pair of gloves on the table closest to Nicole.

"Suit yourself. And don't make a mess." Oh you're to talk.

Now, admittedly, performing an autopsy wasn't exactly the same as straight up butchering a human body for consumption. How different would it be though? The organs just needed to be separated and the limbs cut. She tried not to look at the face while making the first incision.

---

It took 17 minutes for both of them to finish. All the bits and pieces were separated and secured in bags just in time for a knock on the door. Cassandra threw her gloves in the sink and went to open it, letting an older woman only vaguely familiar to Nicole inside.

"Lady Cassandra, I didn't know you had help," she raised an eyebrow at the redhead awkwardly standing by the table she had worked at, scalpel still in hand.

Cassandra only grimaced and with mock cheerfulness in her voice said, "Surprise."

The older woman, presumably the cook, motioned for the maids that came with her to take the bags and, with a slight bow of the head to Cassandra, they were gone, only the bloody mess on the tables left behind. The brunette let a sigh escape past her lips and turned to Nicole. Her yellow gaze examined the now bloody uniform for a moment.

"A shame this got dirty," she said, approaching the redhead.

Tiredness and holding her tongue never mixed well within Nicole, so at the obviously fake apologetic tone she allowed an edge of snark into her reply.

"Oh don't worry, the maids are all quite good at washing out blood stains. It's part of the job requirements."

Cassandra just chuckled and rolled her eyes at the sass.

"Just ask the head chambermaid for a replacement. This is seriously ruined," she said toying with the hem of Nicole's white blouse, now soaked in crimson. "Your face however, we can still salvage that."

Nicole furrowed her brows and brought a hand to her cheek, cursing herself under her breath upon realizing that she was still wearing the bloody gloves and had just smeared even more on her face. She took them off and threw them on a cleaner spot on the table to be retrieved later. Meanwhile, the brunette moved to the sink and returned shortly with a damp handkerchief.

She grabbed Nicole's chin between two slender fingers and tilted her head upward. Nicole could feel the metal of the table's edge against her lower back when she instinctively tried taking a step back. She had no way of escaping. Not that escaping even as much as grazed the surface of her mind when she locked eyes with Cassandra, an uncharacteristic sort of softness in her gaze. She took her sweet time passing the damp fabric over the blood stained skin. Then, after she seemed content with her handywork, she dragged her fingers over Nicole's cheek in a caress that sent a small shiver down the redhead's spine.

"There. Good as new," the brunette hummed.

It was a complete lie and they both knew it. The blush now present on Nicole's cheeks was probably just as bad as the crimson stains she was sporting mere moments ago, she was quite sure of that. By some mercy of the crow woman these people worshipped though, Cassandra didn't acknowledge it and simply moved back to her desk, leaving Nicole frozen in place.

After a few seconds of silence, Cassandra chuckled and, without turning from whatever she was scribbling in a notebook, said:

"Those tables won't clean themselves darling."

Oh shut the fuck up.

---

Most staff members preferred to spend their free time in the gardens, be it the inner courtyard or the fenced in garden at the back of the estate. Nicole was no exception to that. When she had time, she liked to grab a hot cup of tea and sit down in this small nook of the garden where a small, almost knee high bench was overshadowed by large rose bushes. Nobody else seemed to come there if the old cracked wood of the small seat was anything to go by, except maybe the gardener for occasional maintenance but she was nowhere to be seen most times.

The quiet was interrupted by a distant set of heavy steps. Steps that Nicole ignored. She wasn't in any off limits area and this was her day off. She wasn't doing anything wrong and, therefore, had no reason to believe whoever was walking around was there for her. Until the steps became louder and the sound of heels clear on the stony path.

"There you are," Cassandra's voice almost made Nicole spit out the tea she was currently drinking.

The brunette laughed at that, in an oddly good mood and stopped to stand in front of the redhead. Cassandra's "good mood" made Nicole highly suspicious given past experience. She set her cup down and, with a cough to clear out her offended airways, stood and addressed the brunette.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Aside from having my one free day interrupted. Again.

She saw Cassandra pout for a brief moment but it was quickly replaced by her ever so characteristic smirk. A smirk that Nicole would never admit was awfully attractive paired with the sharp features of her face. At least not out loud.

"I have wonderful news for you," she said, tilting Nicole's head up with a hand, thumb distractingly close to her lips. "Cynthia, our cook, said she really appreciated the way you sectioned that body last week. So mother decided to give you a ...promotion so to speak."

Nicole had yet to decide whether this was indeed wonderful news or not, but the part of her brain that was seeking some kind of thrill made that decision for her when Cassandra leaned in close to her ear, lips tantalizingly close to the skin.

"Congratulations, from now on you're only working with me in the dungeons."

Cassandra didn't want to kill her did she? She did say that Nicole was intriguing to her and therefore the redhead was somewhat safe from ending up on one of the autopsy tables herself. At least that's what she told that part of her mind still somewhat concerned about self preservation that was screaming at how risky her next move was.

She gingerly placed her hands on the brunette's hips, tilting her head in a way not unlike Cassandra did mere moments ago.

"Does that mean I get to teach you proper autopsy technique?"

Thankfully that got a chuckle out of her, moving back just enough to be able to look into Nicole's green eyes. "Assuming you manage to keep your tongue long enough."

She couldn't do much more than let out a soft laugh at the absurdity of her situation. There she was, in the garden of a castle in the middle of nowhere with the Lady's sadistic daughter mere inches from her. She decided that at that point in her life if she was going to die, she may as well go out in style, and what on earth could top falling for one of the most dangerous women in a village full of horrors. She shifted her hand slightly, bumping into the handle of the sickle strapped to Cassandra's waist.

"May I?" She said barely above a whisper, fingers wrapping loosely around the weapon.

Cassandra gave her an incredulous look, trying to understand what on earth she could want with the weapon. She was aware she couldn't hurt her right?

A small shrug was all the permission Nicole needed. She undid the leather strap that kept the sickle in place and moved back only a bit. Enough to step on the small bench and lift herself. She felt Cassandra's hands placed on her waist for support, almost mimicking the gentleness of Nicole's touch from earlier, when she raised herself on her tiptoes. She took hold of one of the roses above them -a yellow one- and with a quick swipe she cut the stem. The brunette watched her take her sweet time scraping off any thorns before her hood was taken off and that same rose was now placed in her dark wavy hair, right above her left ear.

"Mm… it matches your eyes. And necklace," Nicole added, bending down to return the sickle to its rightful place.

Cassandra crashed their lips the next second, her hands pulling Nicole closer from where they were placed on her hips. After a second of shocked stillness, the kiss was returned, their lips tentatively sliding against each other. "Tentatively" didn't last long however, as Cassandra pushed forward, pressing the her against the stone wall behind them eliciting a small moan from Nicole, who's hand ended up tangled in black locks. She tugged on them slightly once she finally needed to breathe and Cassandra pulled back only a bit. She let their foreheads rest against each other and felt Nicole's soft laugh on her lips.

"Do you even need to breathe?"

"No," the brunette answered simply.

Nicole blinked in confusion, not expecting her half joke to turn out truthful but before she could speak, Cassandra took a hand off her waist and pulled something out of a pocket.

"Here," she pushed a familiar looking object into the redhead's hands.

"Y...Your key to the dungeons?" She was still trying to get her thoughts organized into some sort of coherence when Cassandra rolled her eyes.

"It's a copy. So I don't have to escort you every time you come down there, which," she added with a gloved finger brushing against her lower lip, "is gonna be more frequent now."

Nicole nodded, not really trusting her words. She didn't need any though, as Cassandra simply pushed herself off the wall and turned on her heels to leave.

"See you tomorrow at dawn."

And with a smirk, she broke into a swarm of flies and disappeared down the stony path.

#youre either gonna love this or despise it bc of the pacing #hey i never said i was a GOOD writer #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #double edged scalpel #fanfic

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

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Retrieval

I just wanted to write some gross shit sorry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, graphic imagery, gore, blood, degradation, threats of violence

A trio of very intoxicated men stumbled out of the front door of the bar followed by you. You held the door open for a second as you called out to the men to have a good night and to come back soon, but before you could give any of them a chance to respond you had shut the door and locked it, the bell on the door jingling above you. Maybe you weren't being too subtle about wanting them to leave already so you and your coworker could clean up the place, but at the moment you couldn't say you cared too much. It was after midnight and you wanted to go home.

Your coworker, Corey, chuckled at you from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Not very professional of you.”

“Because people like that are coming to a sports bar for professionalism and not to get drunk off of their asses,” you answered, grabbing a bucket and rag to begin with wiping down the tables.

“It's on you if they call back to complain,” he teased.

You laughed.

“Like any of them will be able to remember when they wake up tomorrow.”

“Guess you got a point there.”

You hummed in agreement, wiping down the wooden seats of the chairs before glancing back to him; Corey was still standing in the doorway, checking something on his phone.

“Are you going to clean up back there or are you expecting me to do it for you?” you teased him.

Corey held up his hands in mock surrender before he disappeared back to the kitchen.

The small sports bar you worked at always got pretty messy, both inside the kitchen and out. Food crumbs, wet stains from spilled drinks and small things like loose change, wads of gum and people's small personal items littered the dark carpeted floor. The tables and chairs were usually in a similar state in terms of the food and drink residue. At least you had never needed to clean the bathrooms.

Moving from table to table, you would wipe the surfaces clean, letting the mess on top fall to the floor before you set the chairs upside down on top of the table. Whatever had ended up on the floor you'd get with the vacuum later. It was time consuming and monotonous, but there was a weird part of you that got a certain satisfaction of being able to return the dining area back to a clean state, even if it would be all ruined by the next evening.

Even if it was stupid, at least you actually had the freedom to do what you liked no matter how stupid it was.

Corey was playing something on his phone in the kitchen; knowing him, it was probably some new podcast he had gotten into. The noise you could hear from the back was drowned out when you turned on the vacuum cleaner, trying in vain to clean up everything on the floor. You really wished the owners would take the time and money to replace the carpet with some hardwood; it would make cleaning up easier and would just look nicer.

The bar was always last because it wasn't usually that bad and you could get away with a not so thorough job as you tried to finish up before your shift ended. Corey was almost always done with the kitchen at this point and would be ready to mop the floor after you wiped down the counter.

As expected, Corey was waiting in the kitchen doorway with the mop bucket right next to him when you made it to the bar counter.

“Any plans after you get off?” he asked.

“Sleep,” you answered.

“You sure lead an exciting life,” he said jokingly.

“It's going to be after one in the morning soon; what kind of plans could I have?”

“I don't know. Figured maybe you'd have a boyfriend waiting for you or something.”

Boyfriend.

That word brought back some unpleasant memories. Of things you wanted to forget, and what you had run away from all those months ago.

You tried not to show it, but Corey seemed to pick up on the way you tensed at that.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” you told him hastily, “not in the dating scene currently. I needed a break.”

He nodded slowly.

“Gotcha.”

You couldn't say that the two of you were particularly close, having only known each other a little less than a couple of months, but you did appreciate that he understood boundaries. Too many of the older staff were nosy and wanted to know your business, which frequently got on your nerves.

Wiping down the last bit of the bar, you were about to throw the cleaning rag back into its bucket when you both heard a loud banging sound coming from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” said Corey.

“I'll check it; you start mopping out here,” you told him.

He nodded as you brushed past him, your eyes looking about the kitchen as you entered it, trying to find the source of the noise. Setting down the bucket on one of the counters, you made your way to the back when you didn't see anything.

The culprit ended up being a large pan that had somehow fallen off the shelf. Most likely from being stacked incorrectly. That was annoying, since you now needed to wash it off, with it having touched the floor and all.

“Everything okay?” Corey called back to you.

“Yeah. Something fell,” you answered.

The wash you gave the pan was rather haphazard, but as you set it to the side to dry overnight, you figured that if the crew in the morning had an issue with it, they could clean it again. Right now you were five minutes away from clocking out and you wanted to get out on time.

“We're all good out here,” Corey's voice called again.

You were about to answer him when you noticed the bucket you had brought in, and when you ran over to dump the water out, you noticed the rag was missing.

“Ah shit.”

You'd left it on the bar counter, didn't you?

You had indeed managed to do that, and you slipped past Corey, standing on your toes and propping an arm on the bar counter as you reached for the rag.

“Could you maybe not step on my clean floors?”

“Sorry,” you called back, “need to grab something.”

Pulling the rag off of the counter by its tattered edge, you pushed off the counter a bit as you moved back to get off of the wet floor.

Somehow, you slipped. You felt your feet slipping against the wet tile as you fell backwards, and you had only seconds to try and brace for impact.

You hit something, but it wasn't the floor.

Corey had moved behind and grabbed you just in time. He held you like that for a moment so you could adjust your footing and stand up properly.

It was then you both realized that, in his efforts to save you from a nasty fall, one of his hands had accidentally ended up grabbing ahold of your breast, and he was currently groping you.

“Fuck I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, pulling his hands away the second you righted yourself.

“It's okay,” you answered. It came out a bit shaky, though that was mostly due to you almost falling.

“I swear that was an accident,” Corey continued.

“It's okay,” you insisted, “seriously, it's fine. I prefer that over having my skull break open.”

Corey nodded, but still looked sheepish, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head while he looked at the floor.

Eager to alleviate this new tension, you wracked your brain for something to say that would get things feeling not so weird again.

“Hey,” you said, “I didn't fall, so at least your floors have been spared from that.”

He chuckled a little bit.

“For the most part. But you still stepped on them in the first place.”

“I forgot I left the rag! Give me a break.”

“I will, if you move so I can re-mop the floor,” he said.

Happy that things seemed to have gone back to normal, you complied, walking back into the kitchen and tossing the rag into a bin. You grabbed the bucket again, hoisting it up to dump the murky contents into the sink.

A loud noise sounded from the dining area, like wood being split apart accompanied by the light tingling of a bell.

It was so unexpected and so noisy even in the kitchen that you jumped, causing you to spill some water onto the floor.

That noise..... Was that the front door? From hearing the bell it sounded like it, but hadn't you locked it?

“Sir,” Corey's voice sounded through the kitchen door, “w-we're closed.”

Corey saying that indicated that someone had come in, but that noise wasn't normal, and you set the bucket back down as you went back to the dining area to investigate.

And how did this person get in? You were certain you had locked that door.

You pushed open the door-

And froze.

Phinks.

He was standing in front of the bar's entrance, the door practically pulled off of it's hinges and hanging open. Bits of the door frame had splintered off from the force he had used to wrench it open and had been scattered on the walkway leading up to it.

But there was no way Phinks gave a shit about that.

The second you opened that door, his eyes were on you.

Rage.

Pure rage radiated from him, a blackened aura you swore you could see that slowly began to fill the empty spaces in the bar, his form stiff and his hands in fists that were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

Only months ago you had done everything to get away from this man. Now he had found you, and he looked like he was ready to kill.

Corey looked back when you had entered, and immediately noticed your terrified expression.

“You know him?” he asked you.

Words couldn't come out. They just stayed trapped in your throat as you looked between him and Phinks, your breathing becoming short and harsh.

That had told Corey everything, as he stepped in front of you and addressed Phinks firmly.

“Sir, please leave now. We're going to call the police.”

With Corey now in the way, you couldn't see Phinks. But when he spoke for the first time since entering, you could sense just how much angrier he had become at Corey's actions.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he hissed.

Corey turned back, reaching out to you as he said “go call nine-”

Faster than either you or he could even think, Corey was pulled over the bar and brutally thrown across the room, crashing into one of the tables, the wood surface splintering and the chairs on top flying.

“Don't fucking touch her.”

Phinks' attention was on Corey now, and he stepped away from the bar. Corey was groaning and disoriented. There was blood dripping down his face as well as his arm, and he was shaking so violently that he couldn't push himself up off of the floor, instead collapsing over and over again onto the bits of broken table.

Phinks stood before him and reached down to pull him up by the collar of his shirt.

Corey pushed away his arm and stumbled backwards, hitting the edge of another table. You could see his eyes now, and the way he looked at Phinks in terror and confusion.

“Pathetic,” Phinks spat.

The blonde rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and began to wind that arm in a clockwise motion.

That was familiar, you realized, as a horrible memory was brought back.

A man had tried to cut the strap of your purse as you and Phinks were walking home one night. Phinks had noticed and pulled you out of the way, but not fast enough, and you had ended up with a large gash on your arm.

“You think I'm scared of you?” the man had said when an infuriated Phinks approached him, winding up his arm once, then twice and then three times.

Phinks punched him and the man went flying; across the empty street and into the side of a building. The impact had left a dent in the bricks and the man's blood smeared on the surface as his body slid down onto the pavement.

Your mind had gone hopelessly blank at the sight of that, the wound on your arm you had been nursing forgotten as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend, who quickly returned to your side and chided you for taking pressure off of the cut.

“Ph-Ph-Phinks,” you stuttered.

“Yeah?”

“You..... You killed that man.”

Phinks' gaze narrowed.

“What's your point?”

He was going to do it again.

That brought you out of your stupor, and you rushed to the edge of the bar as you yelled out “Phinks! Please! Don't kill him!”

More pleas for Corey's life were about to spill from your lips when he glared back at you, a silent command for you to shut the hell up. That look made you freeze up again, and you stood by helplessly, holding on to the edge of the bar as you watched Corey struggle to stay upright.

That murderous aura that had been around him was now stifling, and it affected Corey to the point that he was having trouble breathing.

You counted at least twenty times that Phinks had rotated his arm, the aura increasing every time he did it.

Phinks glanced back at you again, and rotated once more.

He punched Corey in the face.

And Corey's entire upper half exploded.

His head was completely gone, face caving in on itself where Phinks had punched until it burst out through the back of his skull. His chest and arms were blown to pieces from the impact, the smaller bits of muscle and organs ripping out of him and sticking to the walls while the larger pieces of meat slid down with the copious amounts of blood and collected into the booths below. His lower half that remained mostly intact slumped beneath the table he had been leaning against, the remainder of his insides spilling out onto the floor while one of his legs still twitched. There was a fine red mist in the air over what remained intact, slowly settling down and soaking into the dark carpet.

You couldn't move.

You just stood there, keeping your hold on the edge of the bar, occasionally tensing and untensing your fingers as you looked at the piles of red slush and bone that had been your coworker.

Phinks had already walked away from it, coming towards the bar. But he passed by you, slamming the door to the kitchen open and letting it swing shut as he entered. You could hear movement, the sounds of his shoes scraping on the brick-red tile of the floor, glass clinking, him cursing to himself, a faucet being turned, and a familiar sound of water filling up a small container.

But you still stood there, unable to take your eyes away from the horrific scene. Minutes, no, seconds ago, that had been a person. Corey had friends, family and aspirations. And within a single moment, that person had been reduced to a mangled corpse that would only fill half of a body bag. How would they identify him? Whoever cleaned him up, would they be able to get everything? Or would bits of him be left behind and stay forever buried in the cracks and crevices of the bar?

You had seen Phinks kill before and it had made you sick then, but nothing had ever been anywhere near as terrible as this.

Corey's leg had stopped twitching, but blood that had hit the wall continued to trickle down in small streams.

You heard Phinks let out a loud sigh as a glass slammed against a metal counter top.

“Okay,” he called out, “I think I've calmed down now.”

Those footsteps in the back became louder and the door swung open again. Phinks appeared by your side, and when he gently put a hand on your arm, you finally looked away from Corey.

Phinks opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he glanced over to the mess he had left.

“... Lets go to the back,” he said after a moment.

He pulled you with him into the kitchen, and you didn't fight him on it. He still looked angry, but it was considerably less than when he had first entered.

Phinks leaned against the rim of the sink, one hand staying on you as you were positioned to stand in front of him.

“Been a while,” he said quietly.

You didn't respond.

He tsked.

“Goddammit. I find you again after months, and now you can't speak because of that asshole out there. Look, I know I overdid it, but after seeing the way that guy touched you I couldn't control myself.”

His eyes narrowed and he continued “why the fuck did you let him get away with touching you like that?”

Somehow, you managed to find your voice.

“I-it.... It was an a-accident.”

Phinks' free hand came up to lightly slap the side of your head. It didn't hurt, but you flinched regardless.

He had used that hand to end Corey's life; he could easily do the same to you.

“Stupid. You actually thought a move like that was accidental? That bastard was taking advantage of you and you were laughing it off.”

That wasn't true. It had been an accident. But instead of volunteering those thoughts, you bit down on your lip as it began to quiver, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Don't cry. Sorry. I shouldn't have hit you,” he said, his hand going back up to where he hit, softly stroking your hair.

“I'm just so fucking pissed at how gullible you are. What do you think would've happened if someone smarter had tried taking advantage of you? Fuck, some guys wouldn't need to be smarter; they'd just need to be strong enough to pin you down. Do you even realize how many ways you could've been fucked over before I found you? Did you even think about that? Or was that just me, because I'm actually capable of having some fucking sense?”

His hands settled on your shoulders and his grip became tighter.

“I've been stressed out of my mind trying to figure out where the hell you went, how the hell you managed to get away, or what condition you'd be in when I found you. I couldn't find you and I swear I was going insane. And after all that, when I finally manage to track you down, I have to see you letting some piece of trash grope you?”

Those hands slid up until they were around your neck, and his grip became tighter still.

“It would be so easy,” he murmured, “to just snap your neck and be done with it. Then the constant headache I get from worrying about you would go away. If you're going to fight and run away from me than what's the point?

“Maybe it'd be better for me if you were dead.”

It was deathly quiet in that kitchen.

Phinks still held that grip on you, and you were certain he could feel how fast your heart was beating through the pulse in your neck. You stood there, stiff and quiet as he looked you over, thinking to himself.

He really was considering it.

Any wrong move from you, and there would be two corpses to be found in the morning.

After a few painfully silent moments, he sighed again.

“But I think that if I killed you, part of me would die, too. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it's the truth.”

Finally taking his hands off your throat, he pulled you against his chest to embrace you.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Phinks said, “but I'd be even more miserable if I didn't have you. Does that make sense?”

Your face was pressed against the front of his tracksuit and you found yourself focusing on the patterned colors of white, red and green.

“I've heard it said a lot that being in love means that you also have to suffer,” he continued, “do you think that's true?”

“..... I don't know.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and was muffled by the way he pressed you against his chest, but he still managed to hear your answer as he actually chuckled, rubbing the top of your head.

“'I don't know'. Big surprise there,” he said sarcastically, “you haven't changed a bit.”

When he pulled you away he was smiling, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he told you “don't cry anymore. I'm taking you home.”

Hearing that only made you want to cry more.

“Go get your bag and anything else you brought in,” he continued, “I already went to your apartment and packed up your stuff there. Once we're done here we can head out.

“We'll be back home before you know it.”

#phinks x reader #yandere #yandere hxh #phinks magcub #phinks #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere phinks #yandere x reader #reader insert

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Note

El goes over to Steve’s to get out of the cabin for a little bit and they have pizza and board games and stuff.. so Steve’s house is a little messy so Steve’s dad comes home earlier then expected he freaks bc he can’t see el here so he goes upstairs and puts her in his room and his dad is pissed at the mess so basically el overhears how much of an ass his dad is :,)

tear my heart in half why don’t you?

ok but seriously, could I have just written a short and sweet ficlet on this gorgeous headcanon? yeah. do I have self control? no.

that is why instead I present to you a 6.3k deep dive

also on ao3

****

It’s just a little thing the two of them have going for them. El hated being left alone in the empty cabin when Hopper was on duty and would often sneak out to the Wheeler’s for some company. Usually it was fine. Mike would let her in through the basement door and she’d always made sure to be back before Hop. Usually hitching a ride on the back of Mike’s bike. It was a pretty perfect system. Hopper never found out and she got to get away from the lonely woods for at least a couple hours.

Until one time they weren’t home and Mike wasn’t answering on the walkie. it was cold out and dark and she wasn’t prepared to make the long walk back to the cabin. But she did anyway. Shivering as she tried to forget that her powers still weren’t working quite right. Trying to forget the fact that she was defenseless.

That’s when Steve had pulled up beside her in the beemer. Headlights bright in her eyes, only recognizing him once the lights went out and she could see him through the windshield.

Steve was safe. One of the few people she was told she could trust, despite Mike showing his own disdain for the guy. But she was told that was only because he dated Nancy, and he didn’t like Jonathan either for that very reason. So she trusted Steve. Felt a wave of relief wash over her when he pulled up beside her from where she was walking on Randolph Way.

He rolled down his window with the crank and stuck his head outside. The quick change from hot to cold biting his nose, making it run.

“It’s past nine, El. What are you doing out here? How did you get out here?”

El shrugged her shoulders. Rubbing her hands against her arms to generate some heat to combat the cold from the Indiana night air. “Walked. Came to see Mike.” She said. The words coming out with a breath that was visualized by a misty cloud as vapor froze.

“He wasn’t home?”

She shook her head. Arms still crossed over her chest, hands now tightly gripping the flannel she stole from Hopper’s closet. A calming mechanism she’d use when she felt like she was in trouble. A way of protecting her palms from her sharp and jagged fingernails because she had a habit of biting them when she was scared, which came more often now that her powers were only functioning at a ten percent capacity.

Steve didn’t have to think for very long before telling her to get in, and that he’d take her home.

He turned the heat up to the highest setting, and pulled out a blanket he had stored underneath his seat. Handed it over to her because he could see her lips had begun to turn to a bluish color. Steve spared her the talk about how she needed to be more careful. He wasn’t her Dad or her babysitter, even though he kind of was at times. But she was just a teenager who wanted to see her boyfriend, he did the same thing when he was her age, and still does it now. He figured he could leave that conversation up to her Dad, even if he suspected it wouldn’t do much to curb said behavior.

Instead they said nothing to each other the whole drive to the cabin, aside from words of direction since he had never navigated the path in the dark before. El never talked much in most situations, so it wasn’t weird.

When he pulled up, he noticed Hopper’s Blazer was unmistakably missing from the premises, and there was no light indicating anyone lived there other than the singular bulb hanging from their front porch that looked to be only days away from burning out. He waited for El to get out of his car and head inside, but she didn’t. She just sat there in his passenger seat with the blanket pulled up high enough so it covered her nose and mouth. Still and unmoving, staring at the front door that was illuminated by the dying light source with a pained expression evident in her light brown eyes.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks, with hesitation clear in the way his voice cracks with a whispered tone. The dead silence of the empty forest creating an unnerving tension that made them both feel like just the sound of a pin dropping to the floor could set something off.

She heaved a sigh, the shakiness clear. “Could you stay? Until Hop gets home?”

She didn’t have to explain it to Steve. Just looking at the Cabin gave him the same feeling that looking at his own house did. Empty and abandoned and lonely. That’s why he was out driving that night. He had no destination other than anywhere but his house. He hated the way the floorboards creaked so loud in the silence and echoed around the house. Didn’t like the way he could hear the sounds of water droplets dripping from the bathroom sink from all the way upstairs. Didn’t like the solitary feeling of it all. Not even a ghostly presence to keep him company. Just him and his thoughts. Never a good combination.

So he agreed. Turning the key and shutting off the car, flipping off the headlights and following her inside. He liked El, and it was much better than going back to his vacant home on the outskirts of Hawkins.

He’d never been inside before. The only times he’d ever come by was to drop off Dustin and the rest of the party when El was still on probation from leaving the Cabin. For those he’d never leave the comfort of his drivers seat.

El flipped on the lights and he was greeted by a sight juxtaposed from the outside’s appearance. The outside looked abandoned. Rusted and worn. Moss growing on the roof, breaks in the wooden steps leading up to the porch, unmanicured ground covered in rotting leaves from the previous Fall. The inside, however, was lively. Sure, it still looked a little run down and had the rustic feel to it, but it looked like a home. Warm and cozy, messy with different books strewn across the floor, clothes hung on the backs of chairs, vinyl records stacked haphazardly next to the turntable. The sink was full of dishes that needed to be done, a laundry basket full of clothes that needed to be folded. It was clear that someone lived here. Like really lived here. Not like his house which was always kept clean and proper. Fancy decorations cluttered the halls, carpets were vacuumed and floors were swept. Steve never got behind on doing his dishes or laundry because there was never much for him to do with it only being the product of one person. And what else was he supposed to do to occupy his time? He preferred the sound of the running water or the rattle of the laundry machine or the loud hum of the vacuum cleaner as it picked up debris over the echoes of his own thoughts. He had to keep it clean anyway because his parents always came home without warning, and always expected the house to look just as pristine as they left it. So the house always looked more like a museum filled with expensive art and less like a home with dirty dishes and crumbs on the floor that indicated proper use.

He felt a warm feeling inside the cabin. Feeling the coziness radiate through him as he sat down on the couch. Rips in the upholstery, beer stained cushions. Comfortable. Like sitting on a cloud.

El was in the kitchen, rummaging through the freezer, he assumed she was just hungry. Maybe she had been expecting to eat at Mike’s house. He always did save her some leftovers just in case. He’d done so for all three hundred fifty two days she was “missing” and continued even after she was found.

He looked through the books that were scattered all over the floor as she did her thing. Noticing books his parents used to read him when he was little. Many of them by Dr. Suess. The Lorax, Green eggs and Ham. Some “I Can Read” books that looked to be well below her level, and several books he didn’t recognize at all like “Alexander the Magical Mouse”. She must have liked that one a lot considering the spine had been creased and torn and the edges were folding in.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sudden sound of the pop of the toaster oven. Hearing the slight sizzle of whatever had been cooking.

He turned around to see Eleven carrying two plates with Eggos on them. Already coated in butter and syrup, holding one out to him.

“I made you some.” It’s the first thing she’s said since they’d walked through the door. She wasn��t shy, she just didn’t talk a lot, having only ever been allowed to speak if she had something important to say, often going hours or even days without even having anyone to say those things to. It was no wonder she didn’t want to be alone in that cabin.

He took a seat with her at their little table. Big enough for just two people, perfect for just El and Hopper, and perfect for just the two of them now. He could tell the seat he was sitting in was typically the seat Hopper sat at. The table had cigarette burns on only that side, and he knew those didn’t come from El. Her side of the table had clear indication of someone who used a lot of syrup. Dried maple drops stuck to the wood. He dug into his waffles, which looked to have been cooked to perfection. Golden brown with a nice crunch as he cut off a piece with the side of his fork. She looked up at him and smiled before shoving a large bite into her mouth. Nearly half a waffle’s worth. Syrup escaped past her lips as she closed her mouth around the fork, sticking to the outside of her cheeks.

“You got a little.” He gestured to his own cheek, tapping it twice.

She stifled a laugh with her mouth full and wiped away at it with her sleeve.

It was nice seeing her laugh. El had a smile that brightened up a whole room. The one thing about her that not many people had, you know, aside from the whole ‘having powers’ thing, was that she said what she meant, and she meant what she said. You never had to worry about her faking a smile for your benefit, or worry about her lying to you. She was honest even if that sometimes got her into trouble. So when she smiled at him and laughed, he knew she was happy. Happy he was there, and so was he.

Before she stuffed a second bite into her mouth, still chewing the remnants of the first, they could hear the roar of a familiar engine. Headlights beginning to peek through the gaps in the curtains. El didn’t seem nearly as on edge as he was that Hopper was home. Steve was in his house. Uninvited. Okay he was invited by El, but not by Hopper and that’s what mattered more, right?

Steve wasn’t necessarily scared of Hopper per se. But he definitely tried to avoid being on his bad side at all costs.

But hey, it’s not like Steve had done anything wrong. On the contrary. He kind of rescued her, not that she really needed it. She survived months during Hawkins winter out on her own in the woods. But the point was, he should thank him.

At least Hopper should recognize Steve’s beemer out front so when he opens the door to his house Steve’s presence isn’t a total surprise. Like he won’t walk in guns blazing at the intruder who’s in his house with his daughter.

Okay should he be worried?

Luckily for Steve, Hopper walks through the door with his gun securely in his holster and sans a look of rage. More so a look of confusion.

“What are you doing here kid?”

El gives him a pointed look. Almost like she’s trying to use her mind powers on him. Get him to not tell Hopper that she was out by herself after nine at night in the cold… to see her boyfriend.

But here’s the thing. Steve likes El. He really does. But he’s far more terrified of what Hopper might do to him if he lies to his face about Eleven’s whereabouts.

He gives her a look back. An apologetic one.

“She was out wandering in the cold so I brought her back home. Decided to stay until you arrived.” Steve decided to leave out the part about her going to Mike’s house. Figured that’s better left unsaid.

Hopper pursed his lips. Nodding his head with his arms crossed, clearly trying to keep himself from yelling. He’s gotten better about that lately.

El is once again gripping the cloth of the flannel she is wearing tightly. Bowing her head and squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Why did you go out El?” Hopper asks. His voice was a strained kind of calm. A calm that if you pushed slightly too far could easily go away.

“I don’t like being here alone. Not after everything.”

Oh yeah. Everything.

Everything being Starcourt. Those painful couple of days when she didn’t even know where he was while the rest of the world was falling apart in front of her. Those several hours before he finally emerged from under the Russian base below the mall. Hours without hearing from him, not even a confirmation that he was alive. And no way to confirm it for herself with her powers completely drained. All she could get was a black void. She couldn’t see anything at all.

Steve got a similar feeling. He’d experienced loneliness before. But nothing like when he was trapped in that room with those Russian guards. Beating the ever living shit out of him and no matter what he did or said, it wouldn’t stop until he was completely unconscious. The unconsciousness coming much later than he’d hoped it would. He could still sometimes feel his eye twitch with phantom pains from the damage done that night. He recognized it very distinctly from the memories of previous black eyes he’s received in the somehow two fights he’s lost. He also understands the feeling of dread that she felt when she didn’t know where Hopper was. He had that same feeling with Erica and Dustin. Not knowing whether they made it out alive. Had the same dread with Robin. Feeling her back pressed up against his as they were tied up in chairs and threatened with torture, knowing he was the one who brought her into all of this. Knowing that whatever happens to her is blood on his hands. That point where he had to make a quick decision and slam his car into the side of Billy.

Billy.

Feeling the shockwaves pass through him. His head jerk forward upon impact. Watching as the Camaro burst into flames in a blinding blaze. That moment of not knowing whether or not he survived the crash, not knowing if that was a good or bad thing, and not even having the time to even think about it before he’s piling into the back of the Wheeler’s station wagon and driving away from the mall.

So yeah, Steve got it.

Hopper’s face fell into a frown and he decided not to press the issue further.

“We’ll talk about it later. Finish up your waffles and get ready for bed. I’ll walk Steve out.” Hopper said. Wiping at his nose and taking off his hat and hanging it on the hook by the door.

El finished her waffles rather quickly. She practically inhaled the contents of her plate. Not sparing a moment of time before shoving another piece into her mouth. Messy enough making it clear that the syrup stains on the table were most definitely her doing. Steve finished up his own and promptly followed Hopper out onto the porch after putting his dirtied plate into the sink of dirty dishes.

“Thanks for bringing her home, son. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, chief.”

“You wanna smoke?” Hopper asks, pulling a pack and lighter out from his shirt pocket and pulling one out, offering it up for Steve to take.

This was definitely weird. Smoking with adults. Hopper nonetheless. Sure he was of age, but that didn’t make it any less weird.

He accepted the cigarette anyway, because it was cold and god he could really use one right about now. He let Hopper light it up for him and he took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs creating a burning sensation he grew to enjoy. It almost functioned as proof that he was a living human being. Feeling as the damage was done to his internal organs, reminder that he was alive. Not lost to the void he felt like he drifted into so often.

“So what are you doing right now? You graduated right?”

“Yup.” Steve replied. Popping the ‘p’. As if basically scraping by the G.P.A. decent enough to walk across that podium was something to celebrate. His father most certainly didn’t think so.

“College?”

And that was the reason why. He couldn’t get an acceptance letter from anywhere. Not even the schools that supposedly accepted everyone and didn’t even send out rejection letters. Steve was living breathing proof that they did.

“No. Working mornings at Family Video.” He tried to say it with at least a little pride. Like, hey, at least he wasn’t a total bum living off his parents dime. At least he was doing something with his life. Even if that something was a dead end job in a dead end town.

“It’s honest work, kid. Good for you. College ain’t for everyone. I most certainly wasn’t cut out for it.” Hopper tightly gripped his shoulder and shook him a bit. In a way that seemed fatherly while also being a way his own father never interacted with him.

And god that statement felt good to hear. That acknowledgment and validation that Steve wasn’t just wasting his life away at that job. Validation for his hard work and attempt at bettering himself. Felt good, especially coming from someone so accomplished as him. Steve could only smile, unable to come up with any worthy response to that.

“So mornings. What’s your availability like in the evenings?”

“Typically free. Sometimes I get called out to cover for the night shift, but that doesn’t happen often. Why?”

Hopper put out his cigarette in the ashtray sitting on the porch ledge.

“Well, it would be nice having someone watch El when I’m patrolling at night. I don’t like leaving her here alone, and now I know she doesn’t like it either. And I’d rather her spend that time with you than Mike.” The way he says the name like it’s a slur almost has Steve laughing.

Okay look. Steve didn’t really tell the whole truth right there. His house isn’t always empty. He’s not always free. But it’s best he didn’t divulge that information to a man with a gun in the middle of the woods.

Instead he said yes. Because he wasn’t her babysitter, but he might as well be.

And he also had no idea how to say no to Hopper. Another thing you wouldn’t want to say to a man with a gun in the middle of the woods.

That was how it started. Hopper randomly calling up his house and calling him over to the cabin. Sometimes just choosing to drop her off at his house instead because he didn’t have the time to circle back. Luckily those times he didn’t have the company of a very recognizable blue Camaro parked in his driveway. And eventually everything became routine. Figuring out the patterns of Hopper’s work schedule so he was better prepared for those surprise visits. Eventually telling Hop to just keep bringing her over to his because it was on the way to the station and safer for the rest of the kids to travel to for the occasional hangouts he begrudgingly chaperoned.

Hopper did eventually catch them red handed. Or more accurately, with his pants down. He didn’t hear the phone ring and it was instead the honk of his horn that pulled the two from their current distraction. No point in trying to hide what they were doing with an elaborate lie as soon as Hopper yelled from outside “Harrington. Hargrove. Pull your damn pants up and get out here!”

They couldn’t be that loud. Could they?

Steve didn’t even want to entertain that thought.

When they did the walk of shame out the front door, heads bowed and arms crossed over themselves, Hopper was standing there with his hands on his hips. A stance that looked almost ridiculous on him, but also struck enough fear in the two of them that it silenced their laughs.

“Sorry.” Is all Steve could say. Unable to even look him in the eyes. Focusing his attention on El who sat in the passenger seat of the Blazer. Looking entirely confused. Good. She should be.

“No. No. My fault. I should have called. Uh, you still up for watching El tonight?” Hopper’s eyes darted between the two boys. They were all very uncomfortable in this current situation, and they were all equally desperate for the conversation to come to an end.

Billy looked over at Steve, both faces matching with the same kind of confusion. Distinctly different confusion than the look that washed over El’s face.

“Uh. Yeah I can go home, he can watch her.” Billy said, already moving his feet to leave.

“You don’t have to go. Hell, it’d be nice having someone who has actually won a fight around her.”

“Hey! I’ve won a fight.” Steve interjects, earning a small chuckle out of Billy.

“I didn’t see it. Doesn’t count.” Steve scoffs at the reply. “Anyway, point is, he can stay if he wants. Just no funny business if you don’t mind.”

Billy and Steve both blush simultaneously and nod their heads a little too aggressively. “Yes sir.” Says Billy.

Hopper tips his hat at the boys who are both just standing there stunned and trying to figure out if they just had a near death experience or not. Not before long El is getting out of the car and Hopper’s pulling out of the driveway and suddenly his house feels 300% fuller.

Billy stays sometimes for her visits now, but they don’t make too much of a habit of it. Still concerned about how the nature of their relationship looks to have a young girl in their presence. It’s wrong and stupid, but most people were nowadays. Despite Hopper’s insistence on being okay with it, they couldn’t put that much trust in people.

Except for maybe El. That girl he would trust with his life. No questions asked.

It took awhile for her to actually get what was going on. Not that they were together in the first place, that part she deduced pretty quickly. It was more so the reason that they were so private about it that she didn’t get. She didn’t get why she couldn’t tell Max or the party or anyone else for that matter. They’d constantly brush it off with an “it’s complicated” because they didn’t find joy in telling this sweet and innocent girl how terrible the world could be. But to El it was perfectly simple. Billy and Steve love each other like El and Mike love each other. Easy, straightforward. When they finally explained it to her, how “stupid people don’t think two men should be able to love each other” they could see the anger clear on her face. Veins popping out on her forehead and a red tint forming beneath the skin on her face. They explained how people might go as far as to hurt them if they found out. Her face only got redder and the clench of her fists only grew tighter.

“Bad people.” She called them.

They would just nod their heads in agreement.

“Does that mean Max and Mike and everyone else are bad people? Because I can’t tell them?”

That was a hard question to answer. A question that they tried to avoid thinking about yet always seemed to be at the back of their minds. Because they might be. And that was scary to think about. Steve liked to think that Dustin wouldn’t look at him any differently, the same with Billy about Max. They thought highly enough of them that they never liked to entertain the thought that they could potentially be “bad people.” But there was always the potential that they could.

Still they answered with a no. Because even if they did end up being “bad people” they weren’t bad people. “I don’t think they are,” Steve started. “But the more people that find out, the higher the chance some really bad people might find out. It’s safer to keep the bubble small. Is that okay?”

El nodded in agreement, and the three of them quickly went back to what they were doing like they didn’t just have a really deep conversation. It was scrabble. Thought it might be a more fun way of teaching El new words instead of just shoving a book into her face. She seemed to enjoy it, and was able to come up with some surprisingly long words. A huge grin popped onto her face when she was able to spell out the word “compromise.”

“Hop taught me that one.”

Eighteen points.

Nobody expected it to be Billy who was trying to pass off made up words.

But for the most time, it was just Steve and El. No party get together’s. No Billy. Just the two of them, pizza delivery, board games and movies. And it was honestly a blast.

Steve never thought it would be so much fun to make a mess like this. Paper plates scattered across the floor along with loose puzzle pieces and an array of VHS tapes strewn in front of the TV so they were easier to look through. Usually when something was out of place, Steve felt an overwhelming need to put it back. To keep things clean, neat, and tidy. That’s how he was raised. Vases dusted, dishes cleaned, laundry folded and put away. But he was behind on laundry and the only reason his sink wasn’t full was because he’d been eating off disposables since El wandered into his every day. Which reminded him. The trash needed to be taken out yesterday.

Usually the chaos would have him losing his mind. Like the way it did when he first snuck into Billy’s bedroom and was met with dozens of beer cans everywhere the eye could see. Hamper piled high with dirty laundry, and that was just what made it into the basket. And god it reeked of smoke and teenage boy. Like the combination of a wrestling mat and a casino. He had actual car parts sitting in his closet that he’d stolen from the junkyard. His room was a junkyard. But he’d never tell him that. Just kindly suggest that perhaps he wipe down some surfaces with disinfecting wipes because there are definitely some eradicated diseases living freely underneath his bed where he could see a large collection of socks. Yeah. He knew what those were.

But this was a mess he could handle. It wasn’t a hotel for rats like Billy’s room was. It was more like how he described Hopper’s cabin. Lived in. Proof that there were people having a good time and living there. Finally getting the living room to live up to its title. When he looked out across the mess of food and games and the fallen down fort they attempted to build, the word home started to feel like an apt word to describe the place. It felt like it was his and not like just some place he slept at night or the place he parked his car and had his paycheck sent to.

He’d be regretting letting it get so messy when he heard the familiar purr of a car outside. Distinctly not the roar of the Camaro or the rumble of the Blazer. No it was the purr of his father’s Buick.

He looked out once again over the mess in his living room.

He was going to be pissed.

El noticed the way his face fell when the sound had echoed outside. And then Steve noticed El.

He couldn’t see her here. She was allowed to be out in public but it was still slow going as far as who she was and how she was the chief's daughter. He didn’t want to take any risks.

“El. I’m going to need you to hide in my room. My Dad can’t see you. He won’t go in there.” Steve’s trying to stay calm so he doesn’t alarm her, but reading people’s emotions is something she’s really good at. Not sure if it’s a feature of her powers or just her, but she can always tell if you’re faking a smile and she can feel the emotions that lurk beneath the surface like an empath. So naturally she started to grow fearful as well.

“What’s going on?” She’s still sitting on the floor but appears to at least be shifting her legs to raise herself up. But it’s like everything is moving through molasses but his father’s footsteps don’t seem to be slowing at all.

“My Dad’s home. Take the back steps upstairs and lock yourself in my room. I promise I won’t be long, okay?”

She nods her head, she can see the urgency in his voice so she takes no time at all before sprinting up the stairs and finding Steve’s bedroom.

When she walks inside she realizes she’s never actually been in there before. Only knowing of its location after seeing Steve walk in and out of it from the base of the stairs. It’s not quite what she was expecting.

It was boring. Flannel wallpaper with a perfectly made bed. Shelves organized containing nothing of significance upon them. It looked like one of those bedrooms she saw in furniture catalogs. Steve wasn’t boring. He had a fun and bright personality. He screamed bright blues and bright reds, not the dull greens, grays, and browns that decorated his room.

Then there was an unexpected noise coming from down the steps. The walls were thin, she could hear everything so clearly.

“What the hell is all of this, Steven?” The voice was low and thunderous. Resonating through the entire house. It kind of reminded her of Hopper’s voice, but the underlying tone was distinctly different. There was a condescension to it that she rarely heard out of him. Almost like he was talking down to him. “You’re expected to keep this house clean, and you can’t even do that? How did I get stuck with such a stupid fuck up for a son?” The swears and insults rolled off his tongue like second nature and it made El’s blood boil.

She pressed her ear to the door to get a clearer picture, Steve talked in a very quiet voice in comparison to the fortissimo of Mr. Harrington’s.

“I was just getting ready to clean it up. I had a couple of friends over and they just left. I didn’t know you’d be home, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t let you live under my roof for you to be throwing parties Steven! You should be spending that time actually making something of yourself so I don’t have to explain to my friends what an embarrassment you’ve become.”

“I work full time Dad!”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me.” Steve had barely even gotten louder. “What? You think a career at Family Video is some kind of achievement?”

El could feel the tension in the room as it fell silent. She wanted to burst from that room and fling him through a wall. Break his arm.

Mouthbreather.

“Your mother will be home in a few hours, she stopped to see a friend. You will have this mess cleaned up before she gets home and you will help her with her luggage. Understand?”

“Understand.” Steve’s voice sounded broken. Cracking with an inconsistent tone.

“I’ll be in my office. Don’t disturb me.”

The only sounds that follow that line are the sounds of shuffling feet and a slam of a door downstairs. She’s startled when she hears the gentle knock against Steve’s bedroom door.

“You can unlock the door now.” He says.

She does so quietly. Slowly turning the lock so not to make sound that Mr. Harrington could potentially hear.

When she gets the door open she’s met with a Steve that she’s never seen before. He’s squeezing the bridge of his nose and his eyes are red and glossy. His cheeks are pink from wiping abrasively against tears that fell upon them.

“I need to get you home, okay? I can um… I can call Hop or someone to stay with you if you need. I’m sorry.”

El just doesn’t know what to say to him. Doesn’t know how to make things better without her powers.

So she just hugs him. Wraps her arms around his waist tight and lets her head rest where it meets his chest. Squeezing gently just waiting for him to return the gesture.

Which he does, albeit, hesitantly and guarded. Barely letting his own hands come in contact with her shoulders. She’s so small, and if he didn’t already know the strength she was capable of he’d be worried he could break her.

“Bad man.” She whispers.

Steve fights off the tears and squeezes her tighter.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Is all he can say.

The two of them quietly sneak out the front door. Steve knows his Dad wouldn’t care if he left so long as he did what he was asked. He’d picked up the mess and took the trash with him on the way out.

The two pile into the Beemer and Steve quickly turns on the music to distract himself from the words rattling around in his head. Letting the sounds of Metallica play over his speakers. Billy was always doing that. Shoving one of the tapes he made for Steve into the stereo when he wasn’t looking.

Look, a successful distraction!

But they barely made it a mile down the road before El was turning the knob to the left and the car quickly fell silent. She doesn’t look over at him when she says it. Just looks out the window at passing trees and street lights. Watching as power lines appear to move like ocean waves. Up and down, up and down. Fiddling with the cuffs of her shirt like she’s fearful of the words that were to come out of her mouth.

“Is your Dad like Papa?”

She wasn’t afraid of the question, but she was afraid of the answer. Steve knew who Papa was. They all did and were explicitly instructed to avoid that topic at all costs. But she was the one bringing him up.

“No he’s not like Papa.”

“But he’s a bad man.” She says matter of factly.

“Sometimes he is. Yes.”

“Is your Dad like Billy’s Dad?”

That one stung a little too sharply. Not at the premise of his father potentially being like that, but the reminder of Billy. That he was still there under that damn roof with that poor excuse of a man. And that he wouldn’t let Steve protect him no matter how hard he tried and how far he pushed.

That was another thing El knew that most people didn’t know. Another secret she was forced to keep. One she chose to keep on her own, recognizing it wouldn’t be fair to share the things she learned from entering into his mind without giving him a choice in the matter.

Steve was sometimes grateful for that. The fact that El respected Billy and showed him nothing but kindness. But so often he’d wish she’d just spill it all to Hopper. Do the thing Steve didn’t have the strength to do himself.

“No. He’s not like Billy’s Dad.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks at him this time. Reaching over the center console to place a hand gently on top of one of his outstretched hands that tightly gripped the steering wheel.

He lets a tear fall. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

The rest of the drive is silent. The only sounds are the purr of the engine and the tires rolling over rough asphalt.

Pulling up to the cabin with El in the passenger seat felt a lot like that first time he took her home. That same painful silence and that same hesitation as they sat in front of the cabin from the comfort of the cabin. Staring out at the porch. The lightbulb that looked almost dead last time now replaced with a brand new one that shined bright and illuminated the whole front of the house.

He was half hoping she would ask for him to stay. Not wanting to go back to that house alone with his Dad. He wanted to go to Billy. Crawl in through his window and curl up next to him in his bed. Make himself feel safe by making Billy feel safe. He’d accept crashing on Hopper’s couch if that was all he could get.

But he knew he couldn’t. Knew he had to get home despite having every reason not to.

“Steve?” She said, grabbing his attention.

“Yeah?”

She opened the car door and stepped out, looking at him intensely through the open door.

“You’re not stupid.”

That right there made him smile much more than her asking him to stay ever would.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #eleven #jim hopper #mandi writes tresh #fanfic

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silence-burns · 4 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 38

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

The pale cheek was rubbery and cold under your finger. You poked it again. "Are you sure he's dead?"

Loki looked at the severed, and a little chewed, bottom half of the ambassador. "Pretty much."

The body had been laid out on top of a desk, with all the books and documents previously occupying it put on the ground. It didn't really matter in the ways of making things messy, because the suite belonging to the recently deceased ambassador was already a dusty, chaotic mess. The room was dark and narrow and made even smaller by the bookshelves lined along one wall, stealing even more space. The carpet used to be gold and thick, but now it looked just worn and tired.

"Do we even have a plan? Like, anything in particular to look out for?"

Loki scratched his chin, looking around next to you. "Plans are for the weak of heart. We've got something better, love—a suspicion. Now we only have to find the evidence for or against it."

You looked at the shelves filled with old tomes to the point of almost breaking the wood. And then at the loose papers piled carelessly along two of the walls and also in the bedroom. The notes were haphazardly scribbled and left in places where a thought must've struck the man, and then left forgotten or lost. Ink was spilled on the less fortunate ones.

"...right."

You couldn't say you were happy about it, but there was little to do about it. Whatever the ambassador was working on before he died could shed some light on his death. Now you only had to find it.

With a deep sigh, you braced yourself and got to work.

It soon turned out you didn’t understand a single word of it.

"You said your spell would work and I would understand everything." You focused really hard on the wall of text in a language you'd never seen before. "And it works fine when I'm talking to the lords here, but not on this."

Loki leaned over your shoulder to peek a glance at the text. "I have no idea. Maybe it works differently on humans? Or maybe you're just a particularly weird individual of your species."

"Thanks."

"Welcome, love."

With nothing you could read, your job there was crippled. Even when Loki assured you he didn't mind doing everything himself and that it wasn't your fault, there was still a sour feeling you couldn't quite shake off.

"I'm going to see if I can find the kitchens and get us something edible." You decided to pass the time on something at least vaguely helpful.

Loki looked up from the notes he'd gathered from the windowsill. He’d made himself comfortable in one of the cleaner parts of the room, although unfortunately it just happened to be near the corpse. "Be careful. And please, don't kill anyone without me."

"I'd never," you promised with a wink and left.

The castle was huge, but empty. At first, you put in on the murder that must've shaken the people living there, but the longer you looked around, it struck you as odd. Everything was clean, even if touched by time. There must be people taking care of it, but you couldn't find any.

Or maybe they were avoiding the outsiders. Technically, you were an alien here.

You walked the empty corridors, enjoying the silent breeze passing through the open panels. It was strange not to see any glass in the windows, but with the weather so mild, there probably wasn't any temperature drop to worry about anyway.

There were shadows sneaking in the corners of your vision. They could be figments of your imagination and sense of wrongness of this place. They could be the things howling in the dark.

No. Thinking about that probably wasn't the wisest idea. In a place where thoughts apparently could shape reality, thinking merry, happy thoughts seemed like a much more rational option if one planned to survive and not be eaten by their own fears embodied. You had such plans, and even if Loki was convinced that you had absolutely no connection to magic unless it hit you in the face, it was better to stay cautious. And happy. What a lovely day it was, after all, with the creeping light avoiding particular parts of your vision, and something definitely following you. How nice would it be to meet someone. Anyone.

Your eyes wandered off into the gardens below, where the everlasting night was laying thick. A fountain shimmered in bluish speckles of water. And behind it, the night opened its eyes.

You might've jumped a little. Just the tiniest bit.

But there was no denying that, just for the briefest moment, your eyes met the Queen's, posed unnaturally still among the statues.

…and people said wishful thinking wouldn't get you anywhere.

You hopped over the railing, and onto the moss-covered ground. The guard you'd seen before was nowhere to be found. You stared around as hard as you could, trying to pierce the shadows and strange light. It took a moment to find what you were looking for.

From up close, the stars overhead and the stars shimmering on her skin looked like mirror images. For a moment, the night sky felt within a hand's reach.

Not one muscle betrayed the Queen had she noticed your arrival. Her eyes were dull and completely blank—to the point where you wondered if you hadn't imagined everything.

You stood right next to her and still weren't decapitated, which was a comfort and a good sign. You bowed stiffly, even if she didn't see it.

"Hi," you said quietly, looking for any sign of comprehension. "I'm one of the people who came here to explain the recent murder."

Nothing. Just the vast expanse of the night enclosed in a fading body and crumbled into a vaguely humanoid shape. The Queen only had one horn intact, white as a bone, and sharp like the crescent moon—the only one to ever be seen on the edge of the universe.

"I wondered if you knew anything about it," you tried again. "We're doing well so far, and I'm sure we'll find the murderer eventually, so don't worry about that, but… We'd still appreciate any and all help."

Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. Shimmering pollen flew on the light breeze squeezing through the thicket. The night turned her eyes toward you.

It'd been a while since you cowered under the sheets, afraid of the darkness. It was a common fear among children, and one that only a few grew out of. Those eyes reminded you of those sleepless nights.

Not a word left the bloodless lips. Not a muscle twitched. The edges of the woman blurred into the night.

"...right. Sorry to interrupt you, Your Majesty."

You backed away a few steps before turning your back to her. A shiver ran down your spine. If that was what fading was, you preferred death.

Loki enjoyed reading, he really did. Even as a child, he'd often been found buried among the old tomes in the palace's library, or smuggling particularly interesting ones to his rooms. There was something in the way of the written word that captured his attention way better than whatever training he was forced to participate in for the sake of Odin's misplaced ambition. There was a certain rush in learning facts previously unknown and in understanding the world or the forces in it better.

Loki felt absolutely none of that while going through the ambassador's notes.

Most of them were full of incomprehensible babble of half-finished ideas or references that led nowhere without the books they'd been taken from. Some seemed to be copied pages, which led Loki to the conclusion that the books were not to be taken off the library grounds.

There were a lot of dates and numbers that made little sense to him, so he put them down on the pile of things he deemed irrelevant to the investigation. The pile was growing and now consisted of several piles, forming the majority of the room's contents.

The doors opened. Loki was relieved to see you; the dagger disappeared back up his sleeve.

"That took you awhile," he noticed, throwing the crumbled papers to the right, onto the pile of nonsense. "I was getting worried."

"I'm good. I got you some apples."

The apples were a dusted orange, but tasted sweet enough to justify the unusual color. Loki leaned back in his chair and let you settle on his lap. The feeling of your body pressed into his made you share the warmth and comfort, and made some of the stress building up since morning fade away.

"I met the Queen," you said around a mouth full of apple, and the other hand buried in Loki's hair. "She seemed nice enough. The creepiness definitely runs in the family, though."

Some of the stress came back. "Did she… say anything?"

"Nope. I don't think she’s… aware of things. Which is a shame, because I seriously hoped she could help us."

Loki brushed your back in wide, soothing strokes. "There is a chance she'll regain her senses one day, just for long enough to answer some questions. Fading is a complicated process."

"You know a lot about it."

Loki's eyes dropped to the few remaining apples. "Gods fade too sometimes."

"Will you? One day?"

"I am a Frost Giant, love, even if I was raised on Asgard. I'm not sure how much that complicates my case, and there is no one to ask about it anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Loki closed his eyes and breathed in your scent as he felt you kiss his temple, gently and with enough unfiltered love to make his heart throb almost painfully. He was lucky, even despite the mess politics brought onto him. He was luckier than he ever thought he'd be. And luckier than he thought he deserved.

"Did you find anything interesting?" you asked with a face burrowed into the crook of his neck.

"There was quite a lot of nonsense, but the rest highlights the ambassador's interest in the wars and mass deaths that always follow them."

You froze. The corpse laid on the desk next to you no longer felt like something you could forget about. "...what an interesting guy. "

"Most definitely, but it's too early to judge just yet. I made a list of the books he mentioned most often. I think it'd be worth our time to pay a visit to the library to check them out and maybe ask a few questions to the people working there. They should know something about him and the dead assistant."

"We could get some more apples on our way," you offered, standing up. Loki already missed you.

"Sure, why not. It's not like you'd take the fruit of the sacred trees from the very clearly separated part of the gardens, right?"

"...of course. I'd never overlook that."

You did overlook that in the end, and Loki just happened to overlook it too. Overlooking things was always more fun in good company.

The gardens were a beautiful, lush place, bursting with colors and leaves that danced on the wind instead of falling. Some of the branches were covered in flowers so tiny they looked like ants, traveling up and down the bark. Birds too shy to leave the shadows chirped and sung.

It was a strange change to witness, especially having in mind what the gardens were like in the morning. Whatever put them in a good mood had clearly done a good job. It made the winding paths easier to follow, and the water passing through the fountain shimmer like starlight.

Loki shrugged when you voiced your thoughts.

"In your world, the weather changes just as rapidly," he said, looking at his mirrored image. "Here, it's the very essence of the Edge that's capable of changing."

It was poetic, like most things on the Edge. And just like them, the forest suddenly decided to hate you.

First, the birds vanished, their voices cut short.

Then, something else moved between the curled, twisted trees. Loki noticed too, and handed you one of his knives. The knives had a habit of appearing around him in just the right moments, and you loved them for it.

And finally, the Edge decided how to make your lives difficult this time.

The monstrosity that circled the fountain was a terror of thin legs and bulky torso, armed with too many teeth.

"Is it a spider?" you asked in a voice too high because of your heart leaping into your throat.

"It could be, if someone really hated spiders," Loki said, but there was a smile on his face. "And it might present a problem, if we were still on Earth—but now I'm free and ready to deal with this the old-fashioned way."

You blinked when golden light enveloped him in a flash. The green armor poured onto his body while magic danced around his fingers. The golden helmet you'd seen only once in the battle of New York, now returned in its full glory.

You cheered as Loki stepped out, swinging a spear with a nonchalant ease only available to children forced to learn something for years against their will.

"Kick its ass, babe!"

Loki winked.

The creature didn't want to have its ass kicked. It charged on its eight legs reaching far and fast. Loki striked, gutting its belly and cutting two legs off. It should've died, but it didn't. The cuts should've killed it, but they healed.

Loki's magic should've blocked the furious mass hurtling itself at him. It didn't.

The spell flashed a blinding yellow before it cracked like glass and shattered. The legs that were no longer cut, they hit and didn't miss.

A gold-and-green body flew through the air with a very surprised face. The fountain crashed in a rain of water and marble, covering everything in a thin layer of dust and a thick one of mud quickly forming under your feet.

"...Loki?"

Loki didn't answer, half buried under the stone.

The spider turned its too big head to you. Its legs were black and covered in thick stubble.

"Shit," you whispered.

The spider agreed.

You ran.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson imagine #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson marvel #loki series #i love loki #loki fanfic

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dontshootmespence · 4 years

Text

An Artist In His Own Mind

Summary: Every artist is a genius in his own mind.

Words: 2,900

Warnings: Talk of murder.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo 2020! This fulfills my unsub square.

“Painting is self-discovery. Every good artist paints what he is.” – Jackson Pollock

He needed silence to work.

Finally, the pleas that rang through the air subsided, leaving him with peace and quiet to think. Moving quickly was essential - before the bodies became too stiff to work with. They were the perfect specimens for his first piece.

After propping her up onto the chair with her palms upward, he wiped the blood off her neck: a clean canvas. White cloth draped around her neck and body, though it took longer than he expected to get the material to sit just right. Thankfully, he at least partly situated the boy into the position he needed. If he hadn’t there would’ve been much more damage getting him situated into the woman’s arms. It left him more time to clean the boy off and ensure a perfect finished work of art.

They lived alone and had little contact with others in the neighborhood. No one would come looking for a while. Due to the boy’s slightly contorted position it took a while to get his clothes off, but once they’d been removed, he draped the excess cloth hanging from the woman’s body over his lap.

Stepping back, he admired his work. Like any good artist, he could see areas he’d like to improve, but unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. There was just one final touch. He grabbed a screwdriver from the woman’s basement and pried open the can of paint – SW 7588, Show Stopper. With every jostle of the screwdriver against the lid of the paint can, he grew more and more angry, impatience boiling inside him, the desire to perfect his piece growing exponentially.

Stirring the paint ensured it was smooth and ready for the canvas. The crimson stared back at him. Carefully, he lifted the can above his work, steadily pouring the medium out until it was gone.

With a satisfied sigh, he stepped back and pulled out the Polaroid, capturing his first completed work.

---

Morgan walked into the bullpen with sand still scratching at the corners of his eyes. Every heartbeat said coffee. Apparently, Spencer already beat him there. “Late night, kid?” He laughed. He was pouring so much sugar into his coffee, he would swear a little mountain peak was going to breakthrough the top of the steaming liquid.

Grumbling, Spencer nodded. “So late.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer smirked, glancing toward Morgan quickly before looking away. God, he wanted to go home.

“Woah, woah,” he said, stepping in front of the nearly comatose doctor. “That kinda late night?”

Spencer began walking back toward his desk, whispering, “I’ll never tell.”

“You haven’t dated anyone since Y/N,” Morgan stated, catching up to his evasive friend. “I always thought it was a mistake breaking up with her. You back together?”

“I’ll never tell,” he repeated on a laugh.

Before they could return to their desks and Morgan could pester Spencer just a little bit more, Hotch stepped out of his office and began marching toward the round table room. “Guys, we’ve got a case.”

“It didn’t come through me?” JJ mentioned.

Hotch shook his head. “No, it came directly to me. A friend from New York got out of the city and began working in Cazenovia upstate. He’s got a weird one.”

“How weird?” Rossi asked.

“Even we’ve never seen anything like it.”

Emily sighed heavily. “When does it end?”

It doesn’t, she thought.

---

“Where’s Garcia?” Hotch asked.

Emily motioned toward the elevator. “She’s just on her way up. I’ll catch her up once we’re all briefed.”

Nodding, Hotch clicked the button on the remote. “In Cazenovia, there have been three people murdered via a single stab wound to the neck.”

“And they’re connected?” Morgan queried. “How do we know?”

When Hotch clicked the remote, their mouths collectively dropped, eyes alight with a confusion that was hard to come by given their line of work.

“What the hell?” Emily leaned forward in her chair trying to make some sense of the pictures in front of them. “They’ve been posed.”

“And have paint splattered on them.”

“Even though the victims aren’t connected in any way that the local PD can find, they were all killed with a knife. The unique signature is why we were called in.” Hotch passed copies of the files out to each member of the team. “With a signature unique as this and these kills only a week apart, there’s no doubt this unsub is going to strike again soon. We’ll go over victimology on the plane. Wheels up in 30.”

---

Despite the sun shining, the jet always felt solemn, like it knew it was a harbinger of bad things to come. “Alright, so what do we know about the victims?” Hotch asked Garcia, her bright and shining face the only light they’d see for at least the next few days.

“The first victims were a mother and son, Linda and Brian Tucker, 40 and 15 years old, found a week ago like this.” She brought up the pictures from the crime scene and flinched. No matter how many crime scenes she saw, she’d never get used to it. “The second victim, found yesterday, was 33-year old Matthew Feldman.”

He was posed in a chair and redressed in a green pea coat and long black pants that were slightly too baggy for his slight frame. His face was bandaged, a white covering wrapped around his ears and tied on the top of his head. And he was doused in orange paint. Garcia’s fingers glided across the keyboard like a seagull over the waves. “I’m checking everything they could’ve possibly had in common. Churches, schools, work places, dry cleaners, nothing. These three aren’t connected. At least as far as I can see.”

“Alright, let’s move away from victimology for the time being,” Hotch said. “What do the crime scene photos tell us about the killer?”

Emily noted the cleanliness of the bodies apart from the paint. “With stab wounds to the neck, they should be drenched in blood, but they aren’t. The area around them is, but they aren’t, like they were wiped off.”

“So they’re clean,” Rossi replied, “But the paint is messy. It could’ve been painted on for more control, but it seems like it was poured.”

Spencer stared at the screen, eyes scanning over the poses on display. “The bodies are intricately posed and cleaned. They’re what matter to him. The bodies are the compulsion, the paint is the signature.”

“What are you thinking, Reid?” Morgan asked.

“They’re works of art,” he said. “See the mother and son? She’s sitting with the boy in her lap, her hands palm up. What does that remind you of?”

An art lover himself, Rossi silently chastised himself for not realizing what the crime scene resembled sooner. “The Pieta. The sculpture of Mary cradling Jesus after his crucifixion…and the man…it’s Van Gogh’s self-portrait after returning from the hospital after having cut off his ear.”

“So this guy thinks himself an artist and is picking victims at random,” Morgan grumbled. “Lovely. We need to get to Cazenovia yesterday.”

---

After checking in with Sheriff Meyer, who’d called Hotch in first place, Spencer and Rossi headed to the latest crime scene, leaving JJ, Hotch, Emily and Morgan to liaise with the authorities and try and nail down a profile. “Alright, an artist like this has to be connected to the world in some way,” Morgan insisted. “Maybe he’s an art student, a local artist, something.”

Emily shook her head. “It’s gotta be more than that. If he was successful in any way, wouldn’t the ‘art’ in question be completely perfect? Pristine? The paint is messy. Why?”

“Maybe a rejected artist then,” he replied. “Someone who got denied viewership in a gallery or turned away from a prestigious art school. Color could be part of why he was turned down, so when it comes to the paint he’s disorganized.”

Before anyone could alert Garcia, the sheriff walked in, forlorn. “We’ve got another one.”

---

“What’s this one supposed to be?” Emily asked.

Spencer crouched near the man’s body, his torso wrapped in a similar pea coat to the last victim and a captain’s hat, yellowed with age – all topped with yellow paint. “Portrait of Dr. Gachet. Another Van Gogh piece. It seems a pattern is forming. Both pieces are very melancholic. Could be a reflection of our unsub.”

Morgan reached his gloved hand into the man’s pocket. “46 year old Andrew Warner. Lemme call Garcia.”

“You’ve reached the all-knowing and all-seeing Oracle of Quantico, how may I assist thee?”

“What can you give me on an Andrew Warner?”

“Andrew Warner, 1109 Nighthawk Lane, Syracuse, NY. He’s the operator of a local art gallery in Auburn called Light’s Meaning…sounds a little pretentious if you ask me.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said softly. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“I’m waiting on it, sugar.”

“Seems like our unsub is starting to get a little closer to his true targets. How much you wanna bet our guy was rejected by Andrew Warner?”

“Less than a day in between kills,” Emily interjected. “He’s devolving fast. We need to give the profile.”

---

As the officers piled into the station’s bullpen, the team gathered before them. JJ took a step forward and asked for everyone’s attention. “Listen closely. This unsub is devolving fast and this profile is going to be the best way to catch him.”

“Alright, we’re looking for a white male between the ages of 20 and 30 whose been rejected from art school or a showing at a gallery,” Emily projected toward the murmuring crowd. No matter how many times they gave a profile to an innumerable amount of officers and detectives, there were always a few skeptics.

Leaning against the back wall, Spencer spoke. “He’s an injustice collector of sorts and feels that he’s been wronged. For right now, his victims are random, but they’re surrogates for the people who rejected him.”

“He’s devolving fast,” Hotch said. “Even though the crime scenes are still organized, the bodies are still being cleaned and the paint is still his signature, he’s killing more quickly with less and less time between kills.”

Morgan insisted. “That’s why we need all of you involved in the search for our unsub. The quicker we can pin down who he is, where he was rejected from and who wronged him, the more people we’ll be able to save. We need to get ahead of this guy.”

“And one more thing,” Emily added. “Given the likelihood that this is a student who’s been rejected, and the time of year, October. It’s likely the unsub was rejected months ago and there’s a secondary stressor that kick-started the killing spree. However, we can’t rule out that this is someone rejected from a gallery. Just something to keep in mind.”

---

He could feel the breeze brush by him as he hurriedly ran downstairs, barreling through anything that might be in his way. The FBI was in town and he still had work to do, but he’d have to move his schedule forward.

On the table sat a newspaper clipping: “Administrator Gavin P. Hall promoted to President at Tisch.”

---

Garcia had this innate ability to shine in the face of darkness. Something the rest of the team envied her for. She slid across the floor of her office, the wheels of her chair carrying her gracefully though she somehow managed to bump into her computer desk. “Okay, my pretties, I have been doing a lot of digging and I mean a lot. My hands are dirty and it’s caked under my fingernails kind of dirty. Now, I know the locals have been going door to door searching for anyone that fits the profile and has been rejected from a gallery, so I decided to look into people in the greater New York area that have been rejected from art school and boy do I have a list for you.”

“Send it over, baby girl.”

She feigned a gasp. “Mon ami, you don’t think that happened 30 seconds ago?”

“Garcia, can you narrow this list down?” Spencer asked. “We think there’s another more recent stressor that sparked the killing spree.”

“I’m gonna need something specific to narrow it down by,” she said sadly. “I mean I am an all powerful super genius hacker chick, but I can’t pull answers out of thin air.”

Rossi tapped his fingers against the desk. “Okay, okay, the third and fourth victims were both depicted like Van Gogh’s works, right? Why wasn’t the first one? The mother and son?”

“Okay, so the mother and son has to mean something,” Hotch admitted.

Spencer pushed back from the table. “With an unsub so purposeful, the bodies, the way they’re cleaned and positioned, the paints. It all means something, so a mother and a son. Garcia, have any of the suspects lost their mother recently.”

With a few quick swipes of the keys, Garcia had a list of five names. “Only one of them has lost their mother in the last week and a half though?” She said. “Trenton Price, and his address is now on your phones. Also, out of the five finalists, he’s the only one to be rejected from Tisch – one of the premiere art schools in the country.”

They all pushed back from the table, intent clear. “Alright, Reid, you, me and Emily will head to Price’s address. Rossi, you, Morgan and JJ head to Tisch, interview anyone that was involved in Price’s rejection.”

---

It would take hours for Spencer, Emily and Hotch to catch up with them, but at least they could give them a heads up. “Morgan, it’s Reid. We went to the address and he wasn’t there, but his cellphone went on and Garcia triangulated the call-“

“Lemme guess, he’s at Tisch.”

“Yup. Be careful.”

“Thanks for the heads up, kid.”

Rossi stepped on the gas, sirens blaring. “We’ll be there in five.”

“You sure about that?” JJ grimaced, hand grasping the handle above the window like her life depended on it. “We’re in the middle of New York City.”

“And I grew up on Long Island, I got this.”

In less than five minutes, Rossi screeched the car to a halt and they ran in, guns at the ready. Students ran down the hallways and down the stairs toward any exit they could find. “Where? Where are they?” JJ yelled.

“In the president’s office! Second floor!” She screamed, the clacking of her heels dissipating within the seconds.

They ran up the stairs, hearts racing while students ran passed, whispers of the ensuing sanity floating by their ears. “Trenton Price,” Morgan screamed, “Put your weapon down!”

“No! They have to pay! I’ve worked all my life for this and they just shut me down! Like the pretentious bastards they are!”

In his grasp, Gavin Hall squirmed but the knife inched closer and closer to his throat. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

Rossi stepped in front of Morgan and JJ, taking the lead though none of them had vests on. They never expected him to be so desperate so soon. “Trenton, don’t do anything you’re gonna regret,” he pleaded. “If you kill Hall here, you’ll take away his ability to make things right. Give you the opportunities you deserve.”

JJ snaked around the back of Rossi and trained her gun on Price, hoping for a chance to get a shot off.

“Yea, right! What d’you think I’m stupid?”

Nodding slightly, Rossi encouraged the terrified Hall to ‘make amends.’ Rossi prompted him. “Your mother was your biggest fan, wasn’t she? Encouraged your artistic abilities?”

“Yes, she always knew I’d be an artist, and now I am,” he breathed, a tear falling down the side of his cheek. “But then they rejected me. Told me I was an amateur! That my choice of medium was basic and pedantic. Do you know how many skilled artists specialized in charcoal? Robert Longo, William Kentridge, Dan Pyle, Joel Daniel Phillips! And these assholes tell me I’m arcane and talentless?”

“You’re not,” Hall said, putting together the pieces of Price’s mental state. “I was wrong about you. About your work.

“Liar!” He lifted his arm above his head. A crack resounded throughout the room and he fell to the floor, groaning.

JJ ran up to him and kicked the knife away, holstering her gun before turning him over and cuffing him. “You okay?” She asked Hall.

“Y-yes,” he breathed. “I’m okay. I-“

“You got this?” Morgan asked.

She nodded. “Yea, I’m good, get him to the medic.”

Price screamed at the top of his lungs through the hallways, telling anyone and everyone that he was going to be the next great artist. “Please,” JJ replied. “You’re throwing a temper tantrum because you didn’t get what you wanted.”

---

“So, kid,” Morgan said with a smile. “You gotta tell me about the other night. What happened with Y/N?”

Emily’s eyes lit up and she practically jumped into the seat next to him. “Wait, you two back together?”

He shook his head but he wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “As soon as we get back, I am going home and going to bed.”

“With Y/N?”

“I’m not telling,” he smirked.

#cmbingo #cmbingo2020 #cmbingo20 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #derek morgan #david rossi #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #dontshootmespence #an artist in his own mind

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staytheb · 4 years

Text

Errands

Pairing: SF9′s Youngbin x OC [Seul] Genre: slice of life, slight fluff Word Count: 4,925 Summary: Seul runs errands believing she’ll get a job, but finds out that she’s doing them for her friend that was supposed to do them. Still though, a job may still be in the talks after she finishes the errands earlier than expected. part two: Acting Secretary (somewhat)

Warning: none, swear words lol

so... this is new, but not really. i had wrote this with another idol in mind like a year or so back. i changed it with Youngbin instead and gave my sister what she wanted. lol anyways, this was supposed to be like an idea for a chapter fic, but i don’t have any interest in doing that and why this story is the way that it is. i may or may not actually make a chapter story, but shall see in the future. i just didn’t want this written thing to be left hidden and forgotten. other than that, happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

After dropping Yeon at her new work place, Seul dropped off her three year old daughter, Jangmi, with her usual babysitter, Yuna. Yuna was also a good friend of the sisters as well as a fellow mother. Seul could always depend on her for help, especially on such short notice.

"Thanks for watching Jangmi, Yuna." Seul thanked the older woman.

"No problem, Seul. Besides, the boys just love Jangmi like their own sister." Yuna commented as she watched her oldest son leading Jangmi in a random game.

"Yeah, Wonjin’s a great older brother and Jangmi just loves baby Jiho, too."

"Oh, I know. She loves cooing at him. Anyways, how's the job hunting going?"

"Um, okay? Just a bit rough."

"It's because of Seokwon, huh?"

Seokwon was Seul's ex-boyfriend and the father of her daughter. The separation was a bit messy and quite complicated, but Seul eventually pulled through. It was Seokwon who was having a fit about it and obstructing her life. He would contact other companies to prevent Seul from working with them when he found out she was working under whatever company she would have applied to. It was so that she would be force to return to work for him again and Seul wasn't having any of that. She would never let that man control her life and happiness ever again. Even if it meant having to constantly look for employment every few weeks or months.

"If I was still working I would have gotten you through and or pull some strings. I mean I could still ask Kyungtae if you wanna work for his company?"

"Nah, it's all good. Besides, I don't think I could ever work for Kyungtae with how he manages."

"I know. I don't blame you."

"Yeah, but luckily, Yeon is doing well and she hasn't messaged me yet."

"Yeah, I never pictured her as an office lady."

"Me either and neither did she."

Seul let out a sigh remembering what she had told herself to do today.

"Alright, Yuna, I gotta go, but do let me know about Jangmi if she gets too much."

Yuna cast her an understanding smile while patting her back.

"No worries, Seul. Get yourself a job first and just leave Jangmi to me in the mean time."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, hon."

~~~~~~~~~

Seul had gotten back on the road when her phone rang. It wasn't her sister or friend, but another friend who was a male. She answered through the bluetooth.

"Aren't you supposed to be working, Dawon?" Seul asked the caller as the male chuckled. "I am, Seul."

"Uh huh. Right."

"Yeah, yeah, but back to the subject of working, that's why I'm calling you."

"What do you want? I'm out driving looking for job openings that isn't related to my ex."

"I've heard and know that it's been impossible since he has such huge connections."

"Unfortunately."

"Anyways, that's why I have a proposition for you which for now involves you driving, but not looking further for a job."

"You couldn't just say that you know of an opening for me to apply for?"

"That's no fun. Anyways, the first thing I need you to do is go to Banana Boutique and the rest I'll send you in a text in a minute."

"Okay. That's it? Does this job pay well because I really do need the money as soon as possible."

"It does, but you'll get a fat bonus if you can complete everything on the list I've sent you."

"How much of a bonus are we talking about here?"

"Three times than I would make in a two weeks."

"Dang. That's more than what I would make if I worked with Seokwon again."

"Yeah, but it's better because you won't have to work with Seokwon again."

"Shoot. I'm in, but why so much?"

"Boss' orders and he won't tell me."

"Okay then. I'm down"

"There is a catch."

"Which is?"

"You'll need to be back before twelve-forty-five though for anything to count to get the job."

Seul glanced at the time on her dashboard and rolled her eyes.

"Which is like less than four hours. That's a lot of time."

"It may seem like so, but it's not."

"Then is it even worth it?"

"I know you can do it! Seul, I swear. It's worth it."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. See you soon, Dawon."

"See you soon and good luck!"

"Thanks and bye."

Seul ended the call with a chuckle as she signaled left to head on over to Banana Boutique. While waiting at the light she received Dawon's detailed message and was confused by the name, Youngbin Kim, and the credit card information that appeared in the beginning of the text. She learned that it would be the person she would be running errands for and his account information to make all of the purchases through before scrolling down to see a weird to-do list.

"Go to Banana Boutique. Buy a business casual outfit along with heels and accessories." Seul read aloud with a raised eyebrow. "Afterwards go to Tangerine Beauty Salon. Get hair and makeup done."

Seul scoffed at the list and wondered if this was even work related, but she trusted Dawon on this despite his playful personality. So she was gonna go with it for now as she really did need the money and that Yeon couldn't be the only one working. Seul scanned the rest of the long list and realized that it was all over the place. If she went based on how it was written then it would have her be driving all across town and even backtracking which would make her waste more time and gas. Quickly, Seul scanned her surrounding to pull off to the side and park for a while.

~~~~~~~~~

After finding a parking spot to rest for a bit, Seul copied the list that Dawon had sent her and put it into her notes. While re-reading everything she rearranged the list so that it would have a better flow for her to complete everything on it without wasting time or backtracking and to even get that triple bonus easily. It also meant that she wouldn't go to Banana Boutique or Tangerine Beauty Salon until nearly the end of the to-do list. To which she didn't mind at all as it would make her look fresh and put together. She finished the new to-do list within ten minutes while getting back on the road again.

The first place that Seul had gone to after the new arrangement was to a dry cleaners where she only had to wait for two minutes. Then she went next door to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription that was already ready for pick-up. After that Seul drove down a few streets to the home improvement store to pick up some paint and home decor that this Mr. Kim wanted. Seul also realized after finishing three errands off the list of twenty-something she had no trouble in stating his card information without the actual plastic card being present in front of these businesses. She wondered how often this guy came that it went this easy.

Seul dismissed the idea and continued to the next item on the list. She drove for awhile before she found the place she was looking for. It was a toy store and besides purchasing the several items that this Young person wanted, she had also purchased three stuffed animals for her daughter and sister. As for Youngbin's belongings several of them she could pick up and take with her like some of the sports balls and smaller items while the rest of the things were to be shipped out as they were either too big to fit in her vehicle or weren't in stock at the store itself.

~~~~~~~~~

Seul let out a tired sigh upon placing the two small bags from a jeweler's shop she had just visited inside her car. She was happy that she had a vehicle to accommodate all the things she was stashing into her car for this supposed job. If not, she would have declined Dawon's proposition for it. She just wondered what kind of person this Youngbin Kim was as she couldn't help but imagined the guy upon doing his errands. He either seemed too lazy to pick up his stuff or the fact that he was super busy and had no time for minor inconveniences.

Then again, someone that purchased toys couldn't be all that bad either. Maybe he had a child and a wife, but work was constantly demanding that it didn't leave him time to do such small errands. Or he could just be showering his loved ones with material things to make up for his lack of presence. Who knows what it could be as it could seriously be anything. It really gave her some insight, but then again she knew that she couldn't just based everything off of some list. Seul usually knew the person a bit better once she actually met them, but for now she would just let it be.

Anyways, Seul started her car and drove to the nearest grocery store so she can buy this Youngbin person some groceries before having to go to another location and buy some house cleaning supplies as well for his home. After this errand she would have two more stops to complete and she would be good on time and closer to a job. The second to last stop would be taking a majority of all the items to this apartment complex before heading to Dawon's work place with the other things on the list to be given to his boss. Of course before heading to the work place she would have to stop by some restaurant to pick up the boss' lunch.

Still, Seul was seriously confused as this seem more like a personal errand run that the person himself could do it, but she was doing it instead for a job opening. Nevertheless, Seul reminded herself that it was for the bonus and that she badly needed the job as soon as possible. Then again, she was wondering if others were doing this just as she was and it would be pointless since it meant that this Youngbin Kim person was getting things done more than once and spending a lot more than needed. Seul shook the thoughts away as it didn't matter to her since it wasn't her money or items that she'll be dealing with.

Anyways, once she got done grocery shopping she headed towards Water Apartments which to be honest was a high-end luxury apartment complex building that she for sure wouldn't be able to afford in her entire life. Even less of knowing someone personally who actually lived here. Anyhow, just like using this guy's name and his information to do the errands, Seul was instantly assisted in having the items transported easily to the guy's apartment by a few of the staff members after she informed them where she had to take them.

Seul herself took care of putting away the groceries and cleaning supplies. Upon seeing the apartment, Seul knew for sure that this Youngbin Kim guy was indeed a bachelor and had no significant other whatsoever. She wondered if Dawon's boss even lived here as there was practically no food in the fridge or the cabinets. Neither were there any picture frames or personal touches to the overall place when she had put away the bagged clothing and the prescription when she entered the main bedroom to lay them on the bed. It seemed like it was in a presentation mode to be shown to potential buyers for the place. Then again, Seul assumed the guy must be a minimalist or could have just recently moved in hence the to-do list and a family must be on the way to add those touches.

Shaking the thoughts away and getting back to focus, Seul resumed putting the things away. Once everything was settled, Seul took photos of the places where the items were now settled as it was required of her to do so since it proved that she actually completed the errands and sent the images to Dawon. Seul returned to her car and went to the post office to drop off some of the packages she had done earlier before heading back towards Dawon's workplace to finish out the rest of the list. She felt proud as she had shaved off basically an hour. Everything felt like it would be smooth sailing from here on out.

~~~~~~~~~

After quickly purchasing a basic yet cute outfit from Banana Boutique with minimal accessories to complement and visiting Tangerine Beauty Salon to style the way she preferred to look, Seul arrived at Hot Potato to pick up Youngbin's meal along with her own with less than an hour to spare. Luckily she had called in earlier to make an order so that when she arrived she just had to do a pick up. So when she entered the restaurant she was checked out by her cousin upon walking up to the counter for pick-ups.

"Oh ho ho. You're looking good." Kwangjin complimented. "A hot date? A new candidate father figure for Jangmi?"

Seul rolled her eyes.

"No, Kwangjin. It's for a job. Anyways, I have a group pick-up order."

"Oh, so it was for you."

"Mmhmm."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Kwangjin momentarily left to fetch Seul's order before returning shortly with four bags in hand along with three drinks.

"So who's the other order for if not you or Yeon?" Kwangjin asked while setting the items on the counter.

"My future boss. I'm picking up something for his lunch today, too."

Seul held her phone out for Kwangjin to read.

"Anyways, the buldak with both the rice cake and steamed egg is for my future boss. The rest is mine which I'll pay separately."

Kwangjin was inputting Young's card info before recognizing it soon afterwards.

"Your future boss is Youngbin Kim?"

"Possibly. Why?"

"Oh, well, he's a friend of mine. I could put in a good word for you like I did for Yeon."

"Yeah you should've done that in the first place like you did with Yeon."

Kwangin chuckled as he recalled that situation.

"I'm pretty sure she still wishes to be working here though."

"True, but she can't stand working with you though."

"Not my fault I'm here everyday."

"True, but you keep messing with her schedules and that's why she didn't want to work here again."

"Haha, yeah, that's right. Anyways, Youngbin didn't have any job offerings so that's why I didn't say anything. Also you don't want to work here either."

"Oh okay, and yeah true about working here. Although it isn't bad or anything."

"Because you just don't want me as your boss and me messing up your schedule."

"That too, but are you done inputting the info yet?"

"I am, but why not make him pay for it all?"

"Because I'm not like that."

"Yeah, I know, but here."

Kwangjin handed his cousin the receipt for Youngbin's meal and rejected Seul's card.

"Yours is on the house."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Kwangjin cast her a smug look while handing the bags over to her along with the three drinks he knew were her and Yeon's favorite.

"I didn't order any drinks." Seul declared with a confused expression.

"I know. It's on me, too. Enjoy and good luck in getting the job."

"Thanks and you better not be calling him to get me in without my own merit."

"I would never do that."

"Mmhmm. Bye."

"Later."

Seul took her things and waved him off while taking a sip of her Green Tea Latte of the three drinks that her cousin gave her.

~~~~~~~~~

When Seul arrived to Dawon's workplace, her eyebrows furrowed upon recognizing the streets and the buildings before heading towards the underground parking lot she had dropped off her sister earlier today.

"Does Dawon work here, too?" She mumbled as she found a parking space not that far from the elevators. "Maybe I could give Yeon her meal while I'm at it."

She had messaged Dawon earlier that she was almost done, but didn't let him know she was here while making sure her appearance was presentable. She did send her sister a message about having her lunch and to let her know where to meet up. As for Dawon he had already messaged her about what to do at the front desk and where to go from there so she figured she could surprise him. Seul got out of her car and opened the truck of the vehicle. She pulled out her blue collapsible wagon and unfolded it for usage while setting it on the concrete floor. This was a nifty item when going to places with Jangmi.

Seul placed the food and the items that Youngbin had wanted inside the wagon. Like the documents he had left at his apartment along with two succulents of nine he wanted to be at the office for some reason. As well as some other things like books, caps, and a Janggi set. She even placed her drinks in the pockets on the outside of the compartment before shutting and locking up her car. Seul placed her other bag over her shoulders while heading to the elevator.

Seul arrived on the seventh floor of the B building after checking in with a Park Haeyoon at the receptionist desk and obtaining her visitor's pass. She arrived on the floor and pulled her little wagon behind her in search of Dawon as he didn't appear like he said he would. She was given curious looks by the workers on the floor and knew it was because of the wagon, but no one questioned her about it. Seul was gonna ask one of the staff if they knew where Dawon was, but came upon a familiar face instead.

"Inseong?"

Inseong met Seul's gaze as it lit up with recognition.

"Seul! Wow, what are you doing here?"

He enveloped her into a friendly hugged before noticing her wagon. He gave her a knowing look once he pulled away.

"Did Dawon tell you there was a possible job opening and that you had to do all of these errands for our boss because he'll pay like triple the amount?"

"Um, yeah, how'd you know?"

"Because Dawon was supposed to be the one to do that. Not you."

"Excuse me?"

Inseong held back a laugh upon knowing how his friend was going to react while also taking a few steps back just in case Seul got violent.

"You're joking, right?" Seul asked with a not amused expression. "Because I didn't just waste my time to do his job for him for nothing, Inseong."

She then motioned at her whole attire.

"I also didn't spend money to get new clothes, my hair, and makeup done either."

"I know, Seul, I know, but..."

"Just lead me to his ass and don't worry, I won't cause a scene. I'm not like that."

Inseong chuckled at his friend's words before leading them both to Dawon's work desk.

~~~~~~~~~

"Don't worry, sir. Everything will be done before the allotted time." Dawon spoke into the phone when Seul and Inseong arrived in front of his desk.

Dawon's back was turned away from them and wasn't aware he had visitors. It wasn't until he turned around like he wasn't at work, but at home in mid-conversation that he took notice of his friends.

"Oh, hey." Dawon said in a slow manner as his eyes glance from Inseong to Seul and back and forth totally forgetting that he was supposed to be on the phone with his boss and discussing important matters.

"I'll leave it between the two of you." Inseong said with a playful tone while patting Seul's back in a fair warning to be calm as possible.

"So... uh, Seul," Dawon began nervously while unconsciously placing the phone on his desk and not back into its proper place, "How's your day going?"

"Pretty well until I learned the truth about you using me to do your boss' errands for you."

Her dark eyes bore into his as Dawon's averted his gaze to something behind her and looked down. He noticed the blue wagon and let out a nervous chuckle as he returned his gaze back on to his friend.

"Oh yeah?" Seul mused with a wry smile. "So this job opening you mentioned was just a lie for me to get it done for you so that you wouldn't get in trouble for not doing them?"

"What? No. It's totally real. Look at you. All dressed up thanks to Mr. Kim's credit card information. Now you can have an official interview with him."

"That's not what you told me on the phone when I agreed to this supposed errand run, Dawon."

"True, but I did tell you that it would be worth it."

"How? Your boss doesn't even know what you did or that I'm even here."

"True and I'm sure I could put in a good word for you."

"That's not how I roll, Dawon, and you know that."

"Okay true, and yes, Seul, I know but for now, most importantly, do you have his lunch?"

Dawon stood up from his seat and maneuvered around his desk to stand before his friend eagerly.

"I do," Seul answered with a weird smile that Dawon couldn't interpret, "But I'm not giving it to you."

"What? Why not?"

"Because your dumb ass used me when you could've done it yourself."

"Seul, you don't know how busy I was today to do any of the things he wanted me to do."

"Inseong told me that you had a whole two weeks to complete all of that minus the meal. You made me do all of that in less than four hours."

"I know, I know, but just let me off the hook this one time. I'll pay you back in a big way. Just wait and see."

"You do realize you've done this multiple times on multiple occasions, right? Not just with me, but with Yeon, too."

"Yes, bu-"

Seul didn't let him finish as she continued her rant.

"Besides, Kwangjin knows him, too. They're good friends. Now I feel like a fool because Kwangjin believes this was legit as I mentioned this errand thing in passing. Thanks to you I wasted my whole morning when I could've gotten something more important done with my time."

"I'm sorry, Seul. I really am."

"Your sorry isn't gonna do anything for me, Dawon. Besides, you're not the one that had to pick up and drop off all of his stuff at his apartment. I even had to figure out which of his succulents he wanted here in the office when he had so many. I'm not even his personal assistant, but I still did all of this without knowing him or even having this job now."

Before Dawn could counter her words he was interrupted by his boss who overheard the whole conversation on the phone and exited his office. Youngbin was curious about Dawon's female friend who happened to know Kwangjin as well. Even though Dawon was Youngbin's subordinate, he was also a good friend of his outside of working hours. Maybe a more dependable person to take care of things he nor his other subordinates couldn't have time for be given to this woman instead.

"If you're looking or a job, then how would you like to be my personal assistant?" Youngbin asked from behind Dawon as the duo's attention turned towards Youngbin whose attention was set on Seul more than Dawon.

"What do you say, Miss...?"

~~~~~~~~~

"Well then, Miss Lee, you're hire." Youngbin informs her after interviewing Seul.

Before the interview they all had their lunch and Seul sat with Dawon at his desk eating it since she found it awkward if she ate alone or at the worker's cafeteria. She did meet up with Yeon, but her sister had to return to work immediately as she had this business and sales report to write for her own boss already on the first day of work. Luckily, Dawon was able to inform her about his company, the department, and his colleagues, but still Seul wondered if it was all a joke or not. It turned out that it wasn't and the interview lasted less than an hour. Seul felt a little odd about it when Youngbin told her that she just got the job soon afterwards.

"Just like that? You didn't ask to see my resume or asked me about my past work history, Mr. Kim."

"Mmhmm. While I ate my lunch I reviewed Dawon's information he had given to me of you. Although it was quite limited, but it was enough to make the judgment. The skills and management you've demonstrated with what I've seen so far with what you've done with the to-do list that he gave you earlier this morning impresses me. I see that it will correlate well with the position of being my personal assistant."

Youngbin then sifted through the images on his iPad and pointed out the things that he was most curious about that he got from Dawon to send to him while they all had lunch so he could have a heads up on Seul's competence.

"I noticed that I have a receipt from Hot Potato for my lunch, but the price is way too low for what I saw you brought in when we ate lunch. I also noticed there isn't a receipt for Banana Boutique nor one for Tangerine Beauty Salon although these locations was more for your attire than for me. Is there a reason for those, too?"

Seul nodded with an expression indicating that it was obvious.

"Yeah. I used my own money at the boutique and salon since it was something I was picking out and that you shouldn't even be paying for these in the first place. As for Hot Potato, a close friend covered the cost."

"I see."

Youngbin closed down his tablet, set it aside, and looked at Seul with a calm demeanor.

"Since you'll be working for me, Miss Lee, any inconveniences befallen on you should be my responsibility as your boss from now on."

Youngbin partially turned to open a drawer to the right of him before finding what he was looking for. He scribbled some things onto the small pad before ripping a piece of it from its place and held it out for Seul to take.

"This is a reimbursement for the boutique and salon that you spent with your own money."

Seul declined with a polite smile.

"It's fine, Mr. Kim. You don't need to reimburse me for it."

Youngbin slightly frowned while retracting his hand and placed the pad and slip aside. He then went through one of his other drawer once again before finding what he was looking for. He faced the woman again and gently set a black card before her and slid it closer for her to take.

"Then this card will be for your own personal use among other things to do your job efficiently without any hindrance. There's no limit and I wouldn't have to write you a check for reimbursement each time you pay out of your own pocket."

Seul stared at the black card intrigued, but made no move to take it. She glanced back up at Youngbin who was already watching her as he motioned with his hand for her to take the card.

"Please, take it. It's yours while you're working for me."

Seul still regarded him a bit.

"And when I stop working for you in the future?"

"I can just cut that line out with ease."

"I see."

Youngbin leaned forward and pushed the card even closer for Seul to take. Seul continued to gaze at the small plastic item, but didn't take it once again. One side of Youngbin's lips quirked up amused before relaxing back in his chair while gazing at her calmly.

"The card can be used freely without a pin or inputting my information if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried about your card, Mr. Kim. I just don't see why you would entrust me with your money so casually just like hiring me so easily."

Seul's cool demeanor raised the corners of Youngbin's lips higher before he responded back.

"Because you've proven yourself to be trustworthy and responsible, Miss Lee. That's why I've hired you as I have no problem with giving you that card to further build the trust and reliability I see in you thus far."

Seul kept quiet as she contemplated the whole thing in her head more before slowly nodding in agreement.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Good. So when's the earliest you can start, Miss Lee?"

Seul didn't hesitate to take the card this time around while matching his gaze.

"As soon as possible, Mr. Kim."

"Perfect. You'll officially start after the weekend on Monday as your first day on the job. Today we'll count it as an orientation and I'll have Dawon show you around the buildings so you can familiarize yourself of the surroundings. He'll also fill you in about everything else that I'll be unable to do."

Youngbin stood up with Seul following soon after as he led them out of his office.

"Welcome to Marketing of NEOZ Group, Miss Lee."

#staytheb #sf9 scenarios #kim youngbin

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porscheczar110 · 5 years

Text

Rayllum Narcos AU Part 3

Part three of the Narcos Modern AU! Apartment living, sickness, and Rayla being protective.

Read on AO3 here!

11. Of Moonshadow

For the umpteenth time in the past few months, Callum found himself crumpling up pieces of paper detailing his untimely demise. There was always something about La Sombra de Luna . As if he even knew what any of those words meant. And he wasn’t about to ask his dad or Rayla.

If Rayla knew someone was after him, she’d go around on a rampage until the perpetrator was dealt with. If his dad knew… Well, he wasn’t actually sure what would happen if his dad knew he was being targeted because of his associations. And he didn’t want to find out.

He shrugged as he tossed the crumpled words into his backseat. He’d worry about it later. He had a big exam coming up. If someone were to take him out right now, he wasn’t exactly sure it would be a bad thing. This test was scary, and if he were dead, he wouldn’t really have to worry about any more tests.

It was a nice thought.

And so the paper pile in his backseat grew. Once he was done with his test, he figured he’d go back and clean out his car. As soon as his radio was turned on, all worries about the threats disappeared. Besides, whoever was trying to terrorize him would’ve done something by now. Why wait for so long? It’s not like he was getting any younger.

Soon enough, he was pulling into the parking lot of one of the malls. He’d offered to pick Rayla up so they could go study and eat after she did something at the mall. He’d wanted to inquire. However, the look on her face told him he’d get a horribly vague answer that would leave him more curious and annoyed than if he hadn’t asked at all.

She opened the backseat door to drop off her backpack. “Hey,” she greeted warmly, and Callum felt his insides flutter.

She was the best.

He began to list places they could eat, study, or both. He was terrible at making eatery decisions, or decisions of any kind in general, so he usually left it up to Rayla. He waited expectantly for her to respond, but at the extensive silence, he glanced back. The papers were unfurled, and she clutched a few in her hands.

“Uh, Ray?” he asked tentatively.

Her head jerked up, amethyst eyes boring into his soul it seemed. There was a sort of fury burning in them, and he knew some of it was aimed at him. “You have had threats on your life for what looks like months , and you didn’t bother to tell anyone ?”

Wow, he didn’t like that tone.

“I have a major test coming up?” he tried, realizing how weak it sounded to his own ears.

“ Months , Callum,” she snapped, aggressively collecting all the litter. “And if I don’t know, then I’m sure as hell that no one else does. And that is no bueno , dude.”

“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly. “ No bueno. Not good. But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Every second you—” She cut herself off with a sound of disgust. “Forget it. I’m not wasting my breath. Take me to your father.”

The words sent chills through him. “No, no . Not my dad. He’s going to have a fit.” He tried to keep the whine out of his voice, but her stoic expression indicated he had failed miserably.

“Do you think I give a shit about that right now? We’re going.” She slammed the back door and marched over to his driver’s side. She then yanked open his door and opened an arm, waiting for him to get out. He had half the mind to resist, but why? He would just do as she asked anyways. So, with feet dragging and much pouting, he found himself in front of his estate.

“I’m going to talk to Harrow. You do what you want.”

She grabbed the handle to get out, and Callum stopped her. “ El Rey and La Sombra de Luna . What are they? The papers keep mentioning them.”

She pursed her lips, fingers tapping the steering wheel. “The King and the Moonshadow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know the called my dad the King. Always wondered, but I guess it makes sense? So, then what’s the other thing?”

“Not what. Who. Me.”

“They call you Moonshadow?”

“Yes.” The answer was curt, unlike his usual Rayla. When he glanced over at her, her knuckles were white, wrapped around the steering wheel instead of thumping on it like earlier.

“You know I’m going to ask why.”

“I work at night. Move like a shadow. It’s not very original.” The twist in her lips made him think otherwise, but it was a good enough answer.

At least for now.

“Now let’s go talk to your dad. Maybe you’ll listen to his hissy fit.”

“To be fair,” Callum pointed out, “You didn’t really throw a fit.”

She slouched slightly and sighed. “If I threw a fit every time you did something stupid, it would be my eternal state of being.”

“True,” he nodded. In a weird way, he enjoyed it when she flipped her lid.

Because it meant she, big bad sicario and all, cared.

12. Of Germaphobe

Callum was tired. Tired to his bones . He couldn’t scrub any harder if he tried. He collapsed onto the tile of Rayla’s bathroom, groaning. Eventually, she appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips and slightly frowning.

“What are you whining about now?”

“Look, I get that you like things clean. But bleaching down everything in the damned apartment is a little excessive. I love you and your germaphobe tendencies to death, but I don’t actually want to die anytime soon. And I especially don’t want to die with the smell of bleach and Fabuloso cleaner haunting me.”

“And now he thinks I’m a germaphobe,” she murmured to herself in disbelief.

“I don’t think . I know . I’ve seen the way you obsess over your car! I’ve literally seen you tear out and replace the carpet because of soda stains. You’re always cleaning the handles from the doors and seatbelts and the trunk. I appreciate your cleanliness. No,” he said as she opened her mouth, “No, I really do. But come on .”

“Cal—”

“And!” he added, getting fired up, “You and your showers . When you move in, you have to help me pay the water bill, Ray.”

“Wait, you want me to move in with you?”

The burning from Callum’s blushing was soothed by the tile he was still sprawled on. “I—Uh, yes. I was going to ask you soon. This is not how I pictured it.”

She raised an eyebrow and her smirk blossomed into a blinding smile. “It’s a very ‘you’ thing to do.” She squatted and wrapped her hand around his ankle. The place of contact felt like it was on fire, and he realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his assassin.

A scary thought, but something about the way her eyes were boring into his own made him think she felt the same way.

“But back to the matter at hand before I get sidetracked by you. Showers.”

She leaned over the tub and turned the knob on. It was then that Callum noticed red pouring down the drain. “I’m not a germaphobe,” she laughed.

“No, of course, you aren’t. You’re a sicario ,” he surmised with a nod of his head. “And sicarios can get kind of messy, huh?”

Now it made sense. She wasn’t a germaphobe, but no one liked walking around bloody and dirty from their most recent hit.

He could get behind that.

Still didn’t mean he’d be paying for the water bill.

13. Texts

Callum was not a jealous person. He had his flaws, but jealousy was not one of them. Rayla liked to joke it was because he had been given everything he wanted, and more, throughout his lifetime. But that was bound to be his life when Harrow was the El Chapo of Katolis. Although, when Callum had said as much to Ray, she’d laughed in his face.

“Nah,” she said thoughtfully, “Harrow is bigger than that. They don’t call him El Rey for nothing. ”

He had to admit ‘King Harrow’ had a great ring to it. In another lifetime, Callum had the sense that his stepfather had been a ruler of sorts. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, the things he said. His dad was an old soul.

Another buzzing came from Rayla’s phone, and Callum snapped back to the present.

Ah, yes. He wasn’t jealous or suspicious. But one couldn’t blame his annoyance by the nonstop buzzing and beeping and calls and video calls and DMs and IMs and PMs and—

Another buzz.

Callum approached the table to get his drink, tempted to flip her phone over so the constantly lit screen and blinking light at the corner would stop bugging him. As his hands wrapped around the cool glass of his cup, her phone went off again. He couldn’t help reading the name that flickered across the screen, but he didn’t bother with the message. He could care less.

Runaan .

It was always this Runaan guy. And if it wasn’t him, then it was Star Boy or Tinker. And it was always nonstop. How did Rayla put up with this? Was she being harassed? Did he need to lay down the law?

He laughed at the thought. She could take care of herself better than anyone. If it bothered her, it wouldn’t be bothering her anymore because she would’ve already dealt with it. Honestly, she’d have dealt with problems Callum had before he even realized they were problems.

His sigh was dreamy at the thought of her.

And then another ping .

Rayla returned, two bowls of cereal and some blueberries cradled in her arms. She placed them down on the table and grabbed her phone, grimacing at the notifications on her screen. Her exhale was so forceful, he felt it.

“Everything okay?” he tried.

She looked at him and nodded slowly. “it’s nothing new. It never is.”

“Look, I’m not jealous—”

A smile began creeping across her face. “Isn’t that what a jealous person would say?”

“Ray! No, stop. Focus.”

“Are you telling me to focus or yourself?”

Were the tips of his ears on fire? They definitely felt like they were. “I just was wondering who they were. Out of curiosity. Because I’m curious, you know?”

“Uh huh. If that’s what you want to call it, Lover Boy.”

He stuck his bottom lip out in annoyance. She was so cute. “Damnit, you could get away with murder,” he muttered.

“I do, but go off I guess.”

Oh, yeah. All the assassin business.

“Wait, stop distracting me.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded in resignation. “Runaan and Tinker are my superiors and very married. I would say it’s cute, but I barely have the stomach for our PDA, much less anyone else's.”

He laughed, “Yeah right. You’re a big softie. You cried when I brought you one of Zym’s babies.”

“She is so cute! And you cried, too,” Ray reminded him smugly.

“Alright, that’s enough of that. So Runaan and Tinker. Then Star Boy?”

“Oof,” she huffed, rubbing her chest. “That would be Aaravos.”

When she said nothing more, Callum waved a hand. “And?”

“Nope, that’s all I’ve got,” she shrugged.

“That’s… vague?”

“I know,” she cringed. “But I really have no idea what he is. He’s like a famous ghost or something. Kind of like La Llorona . You know about her, and you hear all sorts of stories. But you don’t really know the truth. Stories is all she is. And stories is all Aaravos is.”

“Okay, you do realize I have no idea who La Llorona is, right?”

She pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “You’re the worst sometimes. La Llorona was a woman who, under varying circumstances, drowned her two children. Cursed for eternity until she finds their bodies, she wanders around crying. That’s what La Llorona literally translates to. The crying woman.”

“Oof,” Callum breathed, shaking his head.

“ Omega oof,” Rayla corrected.

“On that note, can we go out to get froyo?” He was already moving towards the key holder. Froyo made everything better, and he knew Ray felt the same.

“Well, is your VSA on?”

Callum groaned, locking the door behind him. “Really? I do that one time…”

“One time is all it takes. So. Froyo and authentic drag racing?”

He tipped an invisible hat her way. “Name a more iconic duo.”

“Uh, us . Duh.”

He smiled, linking his hand with hers. “Silly me. How could I forget?”

“Also, I would rather drive.”

He was nodding vigorously before she even finished the sentence. “I would much rather you drive, too. Drag racing or not.”

14. Champion sewing

Callum decided he was getting used to living with Rayla. Yes, there were still excessive showers and obnoxious cleanliness, but it was nice having someone there. Actually, it wasn’t nice having someone there. It was nice having Rayla there. Anyone else, and the living arrangement would’ve been a bust. Some days, he couldn’t even believe she’d said yes.

He really was the luckiest man alive. And probably one of the luckiest men in general. Ever.

Given her line of work, she was surprisingly quiet to live with as well. He appreciated that. Sleep was such a sweet and sacred thing to him, and she knew it. Her late nights were his early mornings. Yet, between the two of them, it worked.

“Cal? Cal?”

He mumbled and snuggled deeper into his pillow.

“Callum. Callum .”

“ Fack ,” he cursed, shooting up straight. He lashed out with a barely made fist, unsure of how he was going to fend off robbers.

The infiltrator caught his wrist with a small grunt. “It’s me, Lover Boy,” Rayla said softly.

“What time is it?” Callum grumbled. He went to rub at his eyes, but she had already wiped some of the crusties from the corner of his eye. “Thanks,” he said, interrupted by a yawn.

“I need some help,” she said with a wince.

He wished he was immediately alert and ready for action, but that would be a lie. All he could think to say was, “What freaking time is it?”

Her laugh was low and shy. “A little bit past four?”

“AM?” he deadpanned, barely convincing himself to sit up.

“Yes? As opposed to PM?” She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re the one that woke me up,” he accused. “You don’t get sassing privileges.”

“Sure, sure.” The way she said it wasn’t too reassuring, but he wasn’t about to push the point further.

“Okay, what’s so important that you had to wake me up? Is it another spider? I know how much those freak you out.” Last time she spotted a wolf spider, she screamed so loudly the neighbors called the police. Imagine explaining to them that the big, bad sicario was deathly afraid of spiders. What a night that had been.

“ No ,” she said, and he could see the beginnings of an embarrassed blush. Dang, that was one of his favorites. Embarrassed Rayla, one of the best Raylas. “You did some sewing in high school, right?”

“Actually, I knitted. Won an award for best design. It was a dragon—”

“Okay, that’s great, dear. But not now. You can show it to me later. And stop staring at me like that. I’m not going to stop talking anytime soon.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, covering his eyes against the flood of light. “End me.”

“Shush, you big baby. Now, into the bathroom. Come along.” She dragged him to the bathroom, sitting him on the toilet cover. She watched him carefully as she removed his jacket. His eyes immediately caught the still growing bloodstain on her abdomen. The world tilted a little bit, and bile rose.

“Oh no,” he mumbled, covering his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re still squeamish around blood.”

He was afraid if he opened his mouth to respond, he would release the contents of his stomach all over her. Something told him that would help neither of their moods. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Callum, love, look at me. I need your help. Those asshats hit my sewing hand, so I feel like I have four fingers right now. I can’t patch myself up, and we need to stop the bleeding before I go into shock. You’re all I’ve got.”

He focused on staring at her face, tracing the planes as best he could. He gave her a dopey, barely-there smile. She was such a sweetheart. Dangit if she didn’t steal his heart anew every now and then. It wasn’t fair. No one should be that magnetic.

She swayed a bit, and he was brought back to reality. “No, I-I—”

“ Please . It’s time to put those knitting skills to good use!” She was strangely optimistic. Given he’d just woken up, her odd cheerfulness made his head hurt.

“Hell no. It’s not happening. I’m calling Claudia. She’s a med student. She’ll know what to do.” Panic was starting to settle.

“She’ll have questions. What are we supposed to say?”

“That you’re a sicario, and your hit today went a little rough. Honesty is the best policy.”

“I can’t believe you,” she said, shaking her head.

“Okay, then you’re terrified of hospitals.”

“No, I’m not? I thought you just said honesty—”

“ Claudia doesn’t need to know that. You’re deathly afraid of hospitals, and we got mugged. So, instead of going to one and freaking you the hell out, I called Claudia. Sounds good?”

“Well, why do you look fine?”

Callum ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, we aren’t the ones that got mugged. I wasn’t with you. You were out with one of your friends. But they took them to the hospital because they aren’t a big wussy.” He crossed his arms, staring at his feet intently.

Rayla pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “That’s… actually a really good idea?” He heard a squelch as her palm pressed against her side, and he was woozy all over again.

“I’m calling her right now.”

He had to give Claudia credit. She didn’t flinch at the story, the wound, or anything that happened that night, really. Everything got sorted out mostly. And Rayla was alright once the bleeding was stopped and the bullet was out. It was almost nine in the morning by the time the pair fell into their bed. Who knew blackout curtains worked so well? He could see nothing but felt the warm comfort of Rayla.

He knew he was home.

Just as he was about to drift off, a thought struck him. “Oh my God, Rayla?”

“Hm?” she hummed, very near as dead asleep as he wanted to be.

“I could’ve just called the family doctors. We have three that are active at all hours for everything and anything. We even have one for… ‘family business.’ I’m so stupid . How could I forget?”

“Oh geez, Cal. Of course you’d have four doctors on call. Of course you have a doctor for druggie business. And of course you’d forget. But we’ll call them next time.”

“Next time?” He couldn’t keep the whine out of his voice.

“Of… course.” Her breathing slowed, and he knew he’d get nothing more out of her that morning.

Maybe he wasn’t getting as used to living with her as he’d previously thought.

#rayllum #tdp rayla #tdp callum #callum x rayla

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toreadorwriter · 5 years

Text

Ch 3 of what happens in the dark.

The next day came quicker than a thief in the night, and Marie woke up to the sounds of cheerful laughter downstairs once again made her attitude sour again. Getting up out of the bed reminded her of her hungover human days. Thank God the house was sun proof or they would have all fried. The kindred in the house anyhow.

Jewel stood messy haired in a pink lacy nightgown, while a tiny devil no larger than the spoon it was holding stirred the pancake batter for her. Next to Jewel was Yukie, busy trying out this new pancake recipe found on the internet and luckily for the ex-hunter and ex-necromancer, they both liked pancakes with chocolate chips and pumpkin spice. The two humans were quickly joined by Alysa, and the trio stirred and cooled away chatting about their day. Jewel looked a hot mess her bed hair did not look good on her. Her face was nude and barren, not the picture of absolute wealth and beauty that the tv's,movies,magazines and just society and entertainment in general saw her as. She had acne scars too and bags under her eyes and just the complete definition of normalcy. Just the normal human without the usual mask of photoshop and expensive makeup and wealth.

God, a pic of her like this would sell for a pretty penny. Hmmm yes. that would be awesome! Definitely an opportunity to ruin her reputation The paparazzi was going to have a field day with this! Marie thought to herself.

Blinking out of sight and obfuscating herself from view, Marie took out her camera and silently snapped a few pics of Jewel. After she was satisfied with the shots, she quickly pocketed the camera and cleared her throat, scaring the hell out of Susie and the other humans and making VV spill blood frappe all over her hot pink laptop. The computer sparked and went silent, which really pissed the Toreador off.

'”Damn it Marie, look what you did! I just got this new laptop!" VV angrily scolded the invisible woman.

Marie dismissed the complaints.

“Aw don't worry, I'll fix it for you. I just wanted to see what you guys were talking about. And oh Jewel….. You look nice today." Marie complimented sarcastically and totally without sarcasm in her voice. The sleepy necromancer ignored her and looked at her phone.'' Oh no, it looks like it's time for me to go.I only had 4 hours to sleep and I've been up all night unpacking. I'll see you guys later, I have to meet Isaac he's probably still asleep but I'll just meet him halfway and he moves fast." Jewel said carelessly and Marie narrowed her eyes.

'' Come on Jewel, you haven't even had breakfast yet you can't just leave. I MADE YOU THESE PANCAKES AND I CAN'T EAT THEM FOR YOU" Alysa shouted at the retreating Jewel. Jewel wasn’t much of an early bird or a breakfast eater but old habits die hard and she needed to learn to eat breakfast and get up early anyway. Early in the nocturnal sense anyhow. Jewel ran back and took her plate to go and thanked everyone before going upstairs to shower as fast as ghoulishly possible. When she was done, she barreled out and began to style her hair and rushed to put on a beautiful lavender purple dress and some purple high heels to match. She donned the sunhat that Isaac had bought her on one of his shopping adventure and he had saved her from her old abusive Master Williams and spoiled her to death with many expensive gifts with this hat being one of them.

The hat still was scented with the cologne Isaac usually wears just for Jewel thinking about it made her melt all over again. She adorned herself with several fancy pieces of gold jewelry Isaac had personally made for her and left the room, making sure to lock the door with Marie in one of her moods again. Who knows if she would even need to finish unpacking her stuff if Marie already stole it!

Jewel wished everyone a good night as she flew down the stairs, purposely ignoring Marie as she stood up from her kitchen chair to show her displeasure with both fingers in the air.

Jewel drove herself over to the haven. She figured Isaac and Romero were still asleep, the door was blocked by all the packages delivered during the daylight hours. Collecting them, Jewel entered the haven and moved the packages to the entryway. She could softly hear Romero’s snoring from the upstairs bedroom where he lay dreaming. Jewel crept up the stairs and laid down next to Romero and wrapped her arm around him, careful to not smear her makeup.

An hour passed and the alarm clock woke both ghouls with a start. Meanwhile, Isaac walked in with a mug of blood in his hands and smiled at the sight of both his lovers before him, and noticed Jewel was adorned with the gifts he gave her in the past.

She looked absolutely breathtaking and before he could even say a word the ghoul excitedly jumped into his arms catching him completely off guard. Good thing that he had supernaturally great balance or else he would have to hire a new carpet cleaner to get the blood stains out of the carpet. Setting the mug down, he picked the tiny assailant up and the two kissed. Jewel then babbled on happily about her day and vented about Marie while using a few choicest colorful words to describe the offending nosferatu for a change of topic.

Issac bit his lip, he did not want her to know that he and Marie used to be lover's back before the whole Cleopatra turning with Gary Golden.

Seeing how she was mostly in a good mood, he did not want to sour it by adding his own two cents in. Deep down, he still loved Marie regardless of her grotesque appearance now. He hoped Marie loved him back too, but he was not going to let Jewel know that now. Absolutely, definitely not right now. Issac dug into his pocket and fished out a jewelry box.

Jewel was puzzled at first, but then he took out two rings and the confusion really set in. Nervously, the Toreador walked over and took both their hands.

"Jewel and Romero. We've been together for a while now and I wanted to ask if you both would give me the honour of being my husband and wife?"

He was afraid that they'd say no, but the ghouls happily accepted. To his delight he slipped the rings on both their fingers.

Isaac would have breathed a sigh of relief if he still breathed. EVerything was going according to plan, and he sincerely hoped those enchanted rings would protect them from other kindred doing the same as they did to Marie. He couldn't afford to lose any more lovers to Gary Golden or anyone else for that matter. and he wished he had done the same for Marie. He had let her down after what had happened to her. If he had protected her, this wouldn't have happened and Marie would still be in his arms and not a cursed ugly nosferatu avoiding him.

The ring's enchantment was starting to work and the diamonds gave off an unnatural glow. Jewel took no notice to it, but Romero felt a bit off about all of this. He was happy to be engaged in all, but why so suddenly and together and not separate? Kindred society is weird but usually not weird enough to marry anyone, much less a ghoul and certainly not multiple ghouls. Usually Isaac was a strict but responsible and loving master, but lately he's been so hellbent to let other vampires know about their relationship as a whole. Isaac was usually the fatherly and tender type to his childers and ghouls, but now he seemed more panicked and possessive - almost like a man gone crazy from stress or guilt. Romero couldn't tell to be honest, maybe being Baron of LA was finally catching up to him. Maybe Isaac had always been able to live humans, or maybe he was lonely. Don't get it wrong, Romero loved being spoiled, it just felt kind of strange. Isaac was acting strange, but it was best not to think too hard on it all this, he was sure Isaac had his reasons. The unusual turn of events and the resulting stress and literal graveyard shifts were starting to give Romero a headache his thoughts were quickly interrupted.

''Come, my loves, let's go out to eat. I may be dead, but I do enjoy a good night out." Isaac said happily and all Romero could do was nod.

Jewel excitedly excused herself to go slip on a nicer dress for this arrangement and Isaac left off to prepare, leaving Romero alone with his musings. He was completely unaware of the beady gold eyes staring at him from the hole in the wall.

From inside the wall, Marie was enraged! How dare Isac make that bitch Jewel his fiancee. That ghoul just had to die! She didn't care how she did it but she would prefer to rip the heart out of the human's chest and bite into it like a juicy pomegranate, and that was just for starters. Tonight was the night she would strike she was sure of it. If Isaac didn't care enough to protect her, he didn't deserve to have any others.

To be continued…...

#vtmb au #vtmb oc #vtmb #vtm #vampire loving human #ghouls #roomate au #roomates #drama #romance

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ac-ars · 7 years

Text

First times

i have no chill, but whatever

Part 1 here

if anyone wonders what the f is it, more or less: Matteo finds and adpots very messy and very confused kitten named (by him) Lyra, and this is a series of their first times during sharing an apartment and everything else

FIRST TIME SHE MEETS OTHER PEOPLE

Lyra loves her Matteo very much. Especially if he wears this funny hoodie just for her to snuggle in big pocket on his stomach. He told her that as long as she doesn’t jump out of it when he is walking or standing up, she could stay there all the time he’s wearing it.

She has no idea how long she’s been sitting here today. Probably long because she napped like twice, but it’s too comfy here and he’s too warm to not nap. It is more like cold day and it’s raining outside. She loved standing by the window and hit it to show the rain she’s at home warm warm now with her Matteo, so the rain can feel bad now for not being with Matteo as well.

It should be jealous, everything should be jealous for not living with Matteo, not cuddling with him and sleeping everywhere. Once he let her nap on his laptop; they keyboard was warm and he just laughed at her putting it next to him on the couch. It was great nap.

Unfortunately at some point he asks her to leave the pocket, because he has to change and she meows disappointed even if he gives her kisses she grew to love. Like she wouldn’t love anything that’s connected to Matteo. When he makes dinner having her on the counter watching him all the time he talks to someone by this funny shining screen he likes to use very much. Lyra still doesn’t get why he calls it a phone.

After dinner he takes his tablet putting it in front of her as he says it’s video for cats and laughing at her when she tries to catch other kittens from the screen. Lyra is almost sure she will catch this one, but they both hear loud bell and she jumps startled. Matteo takes her with his hands up asking if she wants to say hi with him. She can just meow confused, because what he means. He takes it as confirmation probably; he goes to the door still hugging her much and kissing her nose.

As soon as she sees people behind the door she stares at him not knowing what to meow especially when they stare at her too.

“Who’s that, Matteo?” The woman asks and Lyra really likes that she asked who not what. She hates being called it.

“It’s my kitten, she’s being living with me for a few weeks, I think,” Matteo says scratching Lyra’s chin and making her purr.

“She’s very cute. I’ve never thought you liked cats, Matteo.” The man states and she just hides in Matteo’s neck, because of course he loves her as much as she does love him.

“Well, dad, she’s my favorite, so of course I like cats.” Matteo says and Lyra leans to give him a kiss. The most favorite, of course.

FIRST TIME HE MAKES A PROMISE

Lyra doesn’t like his parents. They are nice and Matteo’s mom wanted to pet her or play with her using one of her favorite toys, but they asked Matteo if he didn’t think of looking for some other home for Lyra, and this is a big no no for her. He of course said that no way, not to mention there’s no way Lyra would go anywhere since she doesn’t leave him for a step away.

She isn’t sure what he was talking about. She lets him be alone when it’s needed; when he’s taking shower (because she hates hates baths) or when he is working. Well, maybe not exactly alone, but she snuggles next to his hip and doesn’t demand any petting from him. This is very much for her. Lyra also stopped crying when he leaves, because he is always back to her. He bought her many toys she can play with when he’s not home, so she’s not playing with his papers. (One she found one of his shirts on the ground in the closet and he had to disentangle her from pieces of it. She still is super grateful for saving her.)

This evening she stays and naps on the bed; Matteo changed the sheets and those new are smelling in pretty way and feeling super nice under her fur. Lyra feels so nice here she doesn’t run to him at first as she hears the door opening. It’s too late for him to be back, or more like too late to not be at home and the first place he gets is bed.

He smells weirdly. Like funny weirdly and she gets up to sniff more. There is scent of some person there, but it’s neither of Matteo’s parents, so he must’ve been with his friends or something.

“How was your evening? I’m sorry I left for that long, pretty girl.” Matteo’s fingers scratch her under her chin and she’s happy enough not to hit him with her paws, she just keeps sitting there and watching him.

“I missed you very much, did you miss me too?” Lyra meows, of course she did. He’s so silly today. “If you did, I’m very happy with that.” Matteo moves his eyes to the ceiling, stroking her back softly. “When I was walking from Gastón’s house, you’ll meet him soon, I’m sure, I was thinking about how you are waiting for me and that you will be happy that I’m back, pretty girl. And I was happy too, because I couldn’t wait to see you.” He taps her nose and she stomps on the mattress towards him curious why he’s so fluffy now.

“And then it hit me that you don’t make fun of me all the time like Gastón, you don’t throw curses and ugly words at me, you just love me for me and I love you as much. Did you know that?”

Lyra meows loudly and jumps to his chest climbing up to give him a hug, because he is her favorite human ever.

“And maybe I’m a little drunk, but I’m sure I will never give you away, I promise that.”

FIRST TIME HE TAKES HER OUT

She wasn’t really outside if you don’t count the balcony on Matteo’s hands. As he said there’s no way she could stay alone on balcony even if they both know she could just sneak there; she’s a kitten after all.

Today he told her, early morning, that they are visiting his parents since it’s very nice day and they will hang out around the garden at his old place. She just tilted her head not sure what it means, but he was super soft while putting her into this carrying kitten box. He made it super comfy; she had there her favorite blanket of all blankets he got her and few toys. Yet she mostly just napped during car ride - she’s big brave kitten, not scared of cars at all.

They leave the box in the car and he casually carries her in his hands. Some weird woman opens the door and Matteo just smiles at her saying that he will get to the garden by himself. The place is super weird and complicated; Lyra would surely get lost here or destroy something. She can’t really meow that she doesn’t want to crash one vase or two, but Matteo is taking her to his parents and she doesn’t want to be bad kitten.

He puts her down on some nice chair and goes to hug his mom smiling at his dad. His parents are very nice even if they seem not like Matteo. Lyra doubts they would cuddle with her. The air is super nice, it’s sunny but wind is chilly and brushes through her fur softly. She’s laying on Matteo’s lap not really listening to the conversation, because she doesn’t care at all. The sun is warm and she loves warm especially when her Matteo is scratching her belly unconsciously and hitting her paws slightly with his fingers.

At some point Matteo’s dad gets a phone call as his mom says she will go to ask for some cake and something to drink for the prettiest girl (her words, Lyra can just stretch accepting all compliments; Matteo says that it’s because of him, but they all know he’s just showing off).

He takes her to walk around, grass under her paws is super funny tickling and it’s much better than before Matteo. She wants to run to those pretty flowers, but he catches her mumbling her not to destroy his mother’s roses since they don’t want her mad. She almost climbs a tree, but Matteo calls her back and why would she don’t run to him? Even if it means less fun. He’s on the chair again when he takes her up letting her climb up his shirt.

“Matteo, your shirt is dirty now.” His mom points at small paw prints over his white shirt and he just chuckles, Lyra meows small sorry, because she had no idea she would have dirty paws.

“It’s all okay, it’s just a shirt after all.” Then he leans down to smile at her and scratches her ear. “We will take a bath back home, won’t we, pretty girl?”

FIRST TIME HE INTRODUCES HIS FRIENDS

Lyra has already met Matteo’s parents, so when he mentioned she would meet also his friends she was super excited. Like, they are Matteo’s, he calls them his, so they will probably be super nice.

She still a little dislikes him for the bath, but she smells pretty again and is cleaner. Not to mention he told her no stomping over the bed with those paws and there was no way to avoid the water with bubbles. This time it was nicer; he bought her some water toy and was playing with her while bathing so she wasn’t really focused on hating and meowing on ugly water.

Right now they are laying on the couch, he’s watching some people on tv and not looking at her he’s tickling her with small feather toy. She keeps trying to catch it with her teeth or her paws, but it’s difficult - he always manages to tickle her where she doesn’t expect. At some point she gives up and he leaves her the feather to cuddle. Matteo mumbles her to sleep now, because when Gastón is here she won’t get any second to chill if she stays in this room. Lyra turns to her back stretching slightly and decides to nap while Matteo’s hand goes to her belly scratching it softly.

Sudden ring wakes her up, but Matteo whispers her to sleep and leaves her wrapped in warm blanket on the couch. She sits up curiously when Matteo is back with some guy behind who squeals seeing her.

“Oh my, Matteo, she’s so so cute.” He moves definitely too close to her and smiles widely. The boy seems nice, and he called her cute so Lyra just meows and rests her paw on his cheek.

“Look, she likes me! You are even prettier than on the pictures, you know that?” She tilts her head a little; this boy is weird.

“Bro, maybe you would introduce yourself at least?” Matteo chuckles sitting next to her.

“Introduce? To a cat?” Lyra looks at the girl standing in the doorframe of the living room. The blonde girl is looking at her with bad eyes and Lyra doesn’t even need to come closer to know that this girl has a dog. Maybe she’s a kitten, but she knows how dogs smell.

Her Matteo takes Lyra to his lap and pets her head making her purr. “Ambar, could you please don’t call her a cat?”

“She is a cat, you idiot. I don’t know what’s wrong with you even.”

“Lyra is sweet kitten, Ambar, please shut up and look at your dog on your homescreen.” The boy tells her and Matteo laughs.

Ambar girl just huffs at them all and goes to the kitchen.

Matteo’s friends are weird.

#soy luna #matteo balsano #my writing

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