#this once again suffers from the problem of me not bothering to actually print out and playtest my stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dwaynepride · 4 years

Text

the unfortunate case of nonchalance

PART I - WHERE TO START

summary: jethro and his gang arrive to a new town, and they’re surrounded by rich folk. but then, he meets somebody unexpected.

words: 1,855

warnings: female reader

tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @pageofultron @stanathanxoox

author’s note: part 1 of a new series. this is actually a part of @thranduilsperkybutt‘s writing challenge. my prompt was cowboy au + secret relationship trope.

PART II

February 16th, 1889

Well, this is the first opportunity where I’m able to sit and write.

Moving East out of the plains has been damn hard - nobody likes being this close to civilization.

Hell, I hate it. Seen more people on the trail the past two days than we used to see in a whole week, back West. It’s necessary; we all know that. Still, I hear Anthony kickin’ up a fuss whenever we see another caravan.

It ain’t so bad, now that we got a place to settle down. For now, anyway. It’s well-hidden, at least. It’ll do the job until our problems in the West die down, and we can move back.

If we’re lucky, Anthony might take a bullet while we’re out here. Save us all the trouble of keepin’ him reigned in, this time.

Dr. Mallard told me there’s a town nearby. From what I gather, it’s mostly aristocrats and artisans and rich folk who live there. Not the kinda folk we run into often, but the law won’t think to look for us here. Not for a while, at least.

So I’m gonna head into the town tomorrow. Have a look around, see what we’re up against. Anthony wants to come along. Says he wants to start sniffing around, despite my warnings that we’ve got to act like upstanding citizens of the law. It’s too risky to start making trouble.

He says he understands, but I’ll keep my eye on him, just the same.

Tim and Abigail will go along with him. They’re much less rambunctious, so I don’t fear they’ll get into much mischief.

All in all, despite the money that no doubt comes through this town, I predict it will be a very dull place to lie low.

But maybe that’s what we need, right now. There’s been too much excitement, lately.

February 17th, 1889

Just as I thought - this town is full of men and women too concerned with stories and the arts to pay attention to much else. I counted five clothing shops on the way in. And only a single gun store.

I’m not even sure the saloon sells proper bourbon.

Though, Anthony seems to be fitting in, well enough. He can keep a pleasant conversation with any rich man he meets - a skill I scarcely care enough to learn. But I suppose it was a good choice to bring him along-

The journal is knocked from Jethro’s hands as someone slams against his shoulder from behind. It falls to the dirt, as does the bags of the person who’d knocked into Jethro. And even though his journal was knocked clean out of his hands, Jethro himself wasn’t much bothered. Because the collision barely moved him and it seems like whoever just bumped into him is suffering more of the consequences.

“I’m very sorry!” A voice says hurriedly. A womanly voice that wasn’t so prim and proper as the other women of this high-end town.

Jethro bends over to collect her bags - brand new, apart from the new dirt stains received from the collision. And the woman picks up his leather-bound journal; thankfully, it had landed shut.

They both straighten up, and Jethro instantly meets your eyes for the first time. Very pretty, he notices, if a little guilty for all the trouble you’ve caused. Dainty little strands of hair fall into your face, and the dress you wear is much too expensive for Jethro to ever be able to buy. And yet, you wears it so simply. He can’t tell if you’re just so rich that this dress is meaningless, or if you purely don’t care.

You speak, and Jethro’s eyes blink once. “Pardon me?”

A small laugh comes from you; light and nervous. “I said I was sorry. For bumping into you, like I did. I suppose I wasn’t watching where I was going. I can be a real clutz, you see.”

You still hold his journal with two hands. Fingers drum against the leather. He huffs and shakes his head. “No, ma’am. The fault is mine for not anticipating your arrival,” Jethro says simply.

And he hadn’t meant it as a joke. It was a simple fact, told in his deadpan way. Still, the nervous look on your face shifts into a wide smile. You’re laughing; light and happy and in a way Jethro wasn’t quite expecting. “Perhaps you’re right,” you say. And when Jethro hands your bags over, you gives him the journal back.

“Are you a writer?”

He’s dusting off the leather, barely listening to your question. “A writer?” He echoes.

“You know, a storyteller.” When Jethro glances back up, you motion to the journal. “I do enjoy a good story. And you seemed rather lost in whatever you were writing.”

Your eyes....your eyes held a sort of enraptured curiosity that Jethro himself hasn’t had in a long time. The type of curiosity that has you questioning a stranger with a journal because they may be a fascinating person. But he was just a man; just Jethro. And your words prompts a light smirk to his face. “Do I strike you as the type to entertain others, ma’am?”

You pauses. Shrug your shoulders as your emboldened smile softens into a smirk. You must smile a lot, he thinks. “Perhaps. I’ve only known you a minute, and you’re already more interesting than many of the men in this town. That’s quite an achievement, Mr....”

Jethro hesitates. He knew coming into this town that he didn’t want to give out his name very willingly. Maybe the law will recognize it and that would cause more trouble than he wants to deal with.

And yet, what harm could this woman do? A woman so soft and sheltered, she mistakes this rough cowboy for a city-dwelling storyteller.

“Gibbs,” he finally answers.

He sticks out his hand, and you smile while taking it. Jethro hears, loud and clear, when you tells him your name. And he hasn’t the mind to notice how soft the skin of your palm is. Your last name - it’s so familiar.

Familiar, as he’s seen it printed over almost every store and shop in this town.

So he gives a slow nod, releasing your hand. “I did not realize I was talking with a celebrity,” Jethro teases. And he expects some pushback from that little jab - women always seem to dislike his brand of sarcasm. They call him rude, and they may be right.

Instead, you grips your bags tighter. Jethro catches a bit of pink in your cheeks, and it makes his stomach tight with no good reason. “My father owns many of the stores in this town. It’s not a fact I share with others, Mr. Gibbs. I feel as though it causes people to treat me different - as though my opinion of them may sway them to my father’s favor.”

Seems like a hard life, Jethro jokingly thinks to himself.

Seems easier to have fake friends than government agents following you across three states.

Jethro stuffs his journal into his coat pocket before looking back to you, bobbing his head with a smirk. “Trust me, ma’am; I will treat you no different than I would any other woman,” he vows. And he’s mostly serious.

You smile again. And even giggle, this time. It’s a nice sound and even after Jethro tells himself to be polite to the daughter of the town’s most powerful man, he finds he doesn’t have to try very hard. You’re nothing like the other people Jethro has encountered in this god-forsaken town.

Maybe because when you look at him, Jethro doesn’t feel like the dirty old cowboy he knows he looks like to everyone else.

His thoughts are cut short by your cross little sigh. “I’m afraid I must go now. I’m expected back home soon,” you tell him regretfully.

Your reluctance was painfully visible, and Jethro is determined not to show his own. Besides, he wasn’t here to make a friend or charm a lady; no matter how pretty she may be. “Then I’ll save you the burden of a long-winded goodbye. I hope you have a good day,” Jethro tells her.

After giving you a single nod, he turns away. Takes several steps toward the saloon - that’s where Jethro reckons Anthony might be, anyway. Following some poor rich bastard in there to get him drunk and pick his pockets. And he thinks he’s about to make a clean getaway.

But your voice calls out. Calls his name in a way that makes Jethro’s feet freeze in their tracks. He almost doesn’t turn, but his head is arching over his shoulder anyway. Watching as you smile and waves him goodbye. “I hope to see you around! Perhaps one day, you’ll let me read the story you’re writing.”

That makes Jethro scoff, but he says nothing as you continue on your way. That expensive dress of yours even has some mud stains from where your shoes kick it up, but your don’t really seem to care.

And as you disappear around the corner, he shakes his head. Such an unforeseen encounter in a town where Jethro only expected to find uppity, rich men and women. And for the daughter of the town’s patriarch, no less, to completely shatter his expectations - well, Jethro found himself wondering if he really would see you again.

His thoughts are broken when Jethro hears a familiar voice calling out. Shaking out of his reverie, his head swivels around until finding the voice’s owner. Anthony’s hand waves in the air, and he starts jogging over.

Jethro can’t help but glance back to where you disappeared from.

But the Italian stops beside Jethro, wearing a big grin that usually gave him a bad feeling. “Afternoon, boss,” Anthony greets.

Jethro only grunts, and as he starts walking, his friend falls into step beside him. “Have fun screwing around?”

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t screwing around. Just the opposite, in fact.” Anthony suddenly steps closer, shoulder to shoulder with Jethro. Aware of the prying eyes and nosy aristocrats eager for gossip. “I think I figured out a way to rustle up some money,” Anthony says lowly.

Jethro scoffs, face forming a frown that Anthony can hardly see under the brim of his hat. Though, he’s already well acquainted with his leader’s sourest faces. “This idea of yours legal, Anthony?”

“Strictly speaking? Not really.”

Great.

“That’s never stopped us before, though.”

No, Jethro answers reluctantly. It hasn’t. And that’s what pushed them away from the West and everything they’ve worked for. Because of those less-than-legal schemes.

And hearing Anthony suggest a whole new one, in a town where nobody knows their checkered past...well, Jethro has a pretty wide pit in his stomach. Deep, aching; familiar in a way that has him thinking about the past. Has him thinking about what led to Shannon’s death, all those years ago.

Glancing to Anthony, and seeing how excited he looks about his dangerous plan, Jethro just starts thinking about the girl who thought him a storyteller.

#ncis x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #ncis reader insert #thranduilsperkybutt #megs11kchallenge

99 notes · View notes

traincat · 4 years

Note

Hi traincat! Hope you're doing well. I figured since you have an extensive knowledge on all things Spider-Man, you would know your way around his rogues! I wanted to ask if you have a favorite or one that you find most compelling and why. Thanks a million!

I think my answers for which rogues are my favorites and which I find most compelling and which are widely viewed as the best and why are all pretty wildly different. I do think the popular assessment that Spider-Man has one of the best rogues galleries in Marvel canon is true. Like, I think the absolute best Spider-Main villain story -- the one that gives you the best sense of the villain as a character and also the one that works best at uniting villain and is Kraven’s Last Hunt, which is just incredible on every level. (Content warning for suicide.)

(Web of Spider-Man #32) Also, like, in terms of design, Kraven is great. Love a big Russian game hunter perpetually bare chested and wearing leopard print cropped leggings. That’s not something you get sick of. Only Kraven Sr. for me, though -- I’m less fond of his son, although I think the whole family affairs in Grim Hunt and Scarlet Spider v2 are pretty fun.

On the other hand, though, I think that some of the biggest villains in Spider-Man’s gallery, namely Norman Osborn and Doc Ock, are overused, although I know why they’re overused and it’s because they’re really good villains. (But also you can only make people pay for the same story so many times with only minor variations before it starts to get old.) I think Norman and Peter are pretty perfect opposites, whereas Otto and Peter are mirror images -- although I think generally Norman stories pull off that opposite nature better than Otto stories reveal him as a mirrored image of Peter.

I think it’s interesting that Otto is kind of the first “big” villain Peter encounters -- he makes his debut in ASM #3, so there are villains that come before him, but they’re like, the Vulture and the Chameleon. And there are great Vulture stories -- love that flying octogenarian -- but like, I would not put the Vulture in the absolute top tier Spider-Man villains. And the Chameleon is a freak.

Same, girl. (Web of Spider-Man #65)

More villain talk beneath the cut.

By comparison, Otto is the first villain to actually serve Peter a real defeat, the first one to humble him. So I think it’s interesting that they come from very similar backgrounds -- both geniuses, both lonely as children, both people who were in danger of becoming very solitary, isolated adults, which Otto did and which Peter did not. They had a mother figure who verged on at times or was actually smothering in her affections, and a salt of the earth type father figure. And Otto gains his powers after suffering an accident with radiation much the same way Peter does. It’s one of the things that disappoints me about Superior Spider-Man, because I don’t think it plays into the idea of Otto and Peter as mirrored images of each other nearly as much as it could have. Even Otto’s Parker Industries originally showed up in a “bad” version of Peter’s life, where he never got bit by the spider and instead becomes a CEO:

(Sensational Spider-Man #41) “You prove yourself to everyone -- except yourself.” Which is what Otto is continually trying to do, and which is what he always falls short of. So it’s interesting that there’s kind of all this set up here and that the actual comics sort of continually fall short of it.

Green Goblin stories live up to their rep a little better, in my opinion, and they’re better at playing into those parallels. Norman and Peter are both self-made men, but Norman is rich and Peter is not. Peter accepts responsibility and fault; Norman does not. Norman’s life is devoid of women, while Peter’s is full of it. If Norman and Peter are both studies in masculinity, then Norman’s is toxic and Peter’s is not. Peter is capable of growth; Norman is entrenched in this role he’s made for himself -- he is not capable of sustained growth beyond the role he’s made for himself. There’s a reason I think Norman gets used so much and it’s because it’s a heady dynamic to kind of play into -- especially when you go with the relatively more recent angle of things where Norman kind of views Peter as the perfect heir, worthy where Harry is not. Honestly, it’s a good time whenever you’re involving Harry in the mix at all, as someone caught between these two very powerful figures and how the tug-of-war there for ownership of him is just completely soul destroying.

(Spectacular Spider-Man #180)

But I do think Norman is overused, and it’s gotten a point where in Amazing Spider-Man #800 it was like -- oh, what, he’s going to kill Flash? He’s going to kill someone else Peter loves? He’s killed like half the main-main cast at this point. He’s behind the murder of Peter and Mary Jane’s baby, he’s responsible for Ben Reilly’s death, he killed Gwen Stacy, Harry’s death goes directly back to him, he’s kidnapped May and Mary Jane and Flash and blah blah blah it’s JUST TOO MUCH. It can’t always be this one guy! You can’t just bring him back every 50 issues like “this time Norman Osborn’s gone too far” when he went too far in the ‘70s. Everything since then has just been trying to recapture the moment he threw Gwen Stacy off the bridge. It’s exhausting. I’m begging Spider-Man, as it starts hyping up yet another Norman story for ASM #850, to do something new.

In comparison to Norman, I think Harry’s run as the Green Goblin is fairly flawlessly executed as far as villain stories go, especially in its final hour. Spectacular Spider-Man #200 is really one of my favorite single issues of all time. Harry has the pathos that Norman really never does -- you can feel for Harry in a way that you can’t feel for Norman. And it’s because Harry loves Peter -- really, truly loves him -- that his acts of villainy take on that special edge of cruelty. It doesn’t just hurt Peter that these things are being done; it hurts Peter that these are being done and that it’s Harry doing them and that, in a lot of ways, they both blame Peter for why Harry is doing them, even if at the end of the day it’s in no way Peter’s fault. And then there’s the utterly perfect moment as Harry dies in Spectacular Spider-Man #200, that his act of triumph is that he can’t bring himself to kill Peter, because he loves him too much. It’s perfect. I live in fear they’re going to make Harry a villain again and try to replicate it only to fall painfully short.

I think the Jackal is actually underutilized because he is in my honest opinion the scariest Spider-Man villain, or at the very least the creepiest. Where Norman can only dream of remaking Spider-Man in his own image, the Jackal actually does that with Ben Reilly -- and, to a lesser extent, with Kaine, his first damaged clone. He’s a good lurker, too, less show-y than either Otto or Norman. He lurked in the background for a while. And in a series where I think you can pick a lot of the villains apart as men who take advantage of their power, having the Jackal be a college professor whose villainous career stems from his obsession with one of his students fits right in. And he’s just creepy. He’s upsetting! The things he does to the clones -- both the Peter and Gwen clones, although I think the comics are not so great at letting the Gwen clones shine as individual characters, which is something I wish someone would actually do something about -- are very upsetting, especially since you can extrapolate from a lot of Kaine’s stories and the things we know bother him and how he’s consistently paralleled against Janine Godbe, that both Kaine and the Gwen clones were sexually abused by the Jackal. (Spider-Man’s not typically shy about examining darker subjects, and while we can only extrapolate from canon with Kaine, it’s extremely there on the surface with the Gwen clones. I mean, he married one.) And honestly, the villain who’s whole schtick is cloning makes more sense as someone who can repeatedly come back from anything than Norman’s deal of Corrupt Businessman Surprisingly Hard To Kill. I’ve said before that Peter appears to have a bit of a loophole in his personal moral code when it comes to violence that either has no consequences or lessened consequences, like when he cuts loose against Wolverine, someone who has a healing factor, or when he buried the Juggernaut, supposedly indestructible, in concrete. The Jackal as someone who could and has clone himself repeatedly opens up similar doorways -- what’s to stop Peter from cutting loose if the Jackal isn’t confined to this one body? There’s a lot to play with there and a lot more interesting spaces to go than, say, having to invent increasingly poor excuses for why Peter hasn’t taken more permanent action with Norman if Norman is always going to return to do harm to someone beloved to Peter.

Finally, I’m in a weird spot with personal favorite villains because honestly my instinct is to say the Lizard. And that’s an issue because of one fairly recent storyline and everything that’s spun out from it: Shed (Amazing Spider-Man #630-633), the storyline where Curt Connors loses all control over the Lizard, kills, and partially devours his son Billy. Like, I LIKE grim dark Spider-Man comics, and Shed is honestly too much for me -- not because of the Lizard’s actions, but because in the story Peter fails to save Billy. And I say not because of the Lizard’s actions because I think, as fun as a giant lizard man in purple pants and a lab coat can be, I think Curt Connors makes for one hell of a supervillain metaphor for domestic violence.

(ASM #365)

(Spectacular Spider-Man v2 #13) And it’s very compelling. There’s a lot of things to explore down that alley. But once you actually go as far as having the Lizard kill his son, you can’t take that back. And the problem is, that’s what Spider-Man comics have tried to do post-Shed. It feels weird and deeply out of character to have writers assume that Peter could forgive the murder of any child, let alone a child he knew, and have him continue his relationship with Curt Connors. It’s a weird message to go “yeah, he ate his kid, but he wasn’t in control, and he made up for it via cloning, so we’re all good now.” Like imagine trying to spin that in any horror movie. It doesn’t work -- that your villain kills his kid and then clones him and pretends everything is okay now would be the plot of the horror movie. Spider-Man is a series fundamentally built on the fact that actions have consequences, and sometimes those consequences are utterly unfixable. Peter can’t go back and intercept the burglar to prevent Uncle Ben’s death. He can’t clone Uncle Ben and wipe that incident out of history. So to have a story like Shed in continuity as something that doesn’t alter Peter’s perception of Curt Connors forever doesn’t work.

Anyway that’s why my favorite villain is the Shocker. Love that quilted bastard.

#traincat talks comics #*replies #long post/

38 notes · View notes

euphoria-vmin7 · 5 years

Text

Gnossienne Pt.2 | myg

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: again fluff for right now, non idol! au, future angst, future gore, mentions of blood

words: 4,505

--summary: staying away from Yoongi proves to be harder than you thought. but certain things happen at home that make you wonder if it’s a good thing that he’s away.

a/n: sorry for the wait everyone!! here’s part 2! I’ll publish part 3 asap. I hope you all like it :)

Gnossienne

gno·ssi·enne

n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life

****

| part 1 | part 2

You blinked in confusion. The words didn’t register in your mind until your eyes scanned them over multiple times.

Name Min Yoongi. Stab wound to the lower abdomen. Name Min Yoongi. Stab wound to the lower abdomen. Name Min Yoongi. Stab wound. Name Min Yoongi. Stab wound. Min Yoongi. Stab wound. Min Yoongi. Stab wound.

You ran to grab your phone, heart hammering worriedly as you tripped over yourself. You hastily began scrolling for his contact, fingers shaking, before holding up the ringing device to your ear.

You gnawed on your fingernails, terrified, as you awaited his voice.

Except it rang once, twice, three times, four times, five times.

“If you’re hearing this, it means I don’t wanna talk so stop calling m--”

You angrily ended the call before redialing his number.

It rang once, twice, three times--

“Ugh hello?”

You quieted. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you checked your screen quickly. You had indeed dialed your boyfriend’s number…

….so why was this voice one that didn’t belong to your boyfriend?

Yoongi had a pretty deep voice, but this voice could definitely compete with his. It was deep and rich like honey, a dulcet baritone that was melodious to the ears; it was a contrast you weren’t used to with Yoongi’s voice.

“Hello~?” the voice rang out, now taking on a slightly irritated tone. You gulped and steadied your voice as best as you could.

“Who is this?”

“Uhm who is this?” the voice asked sassily.

“This is Min Yoongi’s girlfriend and last I checked this was Min Yoongi’s phone number. So who the hell is this?” you were proud that you could come off more confident then you felt. The truth was, your heart was beating a million miles an hour, both out of fear and confusion.

“Oh shit….” you heard him quietly curse. “Right, sorry. I’m Yoongi’s cousin. Uh, Yoongi is kinda asleep right now. No offense, but isn’t it kinda late for you to be calling him?”

It just struck you that it was nearing 1:30 in the morning.

“R-Right,” you mentally facepalmed. “Sorry...I just---is Yoongi okay?”

“What…? Uhm yeah he’s fine? He’s a little stressed about his grandma, but we all are,”

“H-He’s not...hurt, is he?” you asked nervously.

The man quieted for a second.

“Hurt? No,” he chuckled a little awkwardly. “He’s fine,”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, before cracking a smile.

“Oh okay, thank you. Just tell Yoongi to call me in the morning please?”

“Sure,” he yawned.

“Sorry for waking you,” you chuckled sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” he smiled through the phone. “Goodnight,”

When he hung up, you realized that you didn’t ask for his name.

You were awoken by ringing.

Groaning, you pushed the disheveled strands of your hair away from your face.

“Who the hell is bothering me this early?” you complained, blindly reaching for your phone. When your eyes focused on the ID, you had a miniature seizure.

“SHIT!” you cursed, fumbling with your own fingers before picking up the phone.

“Baby?” Yoongi’s voice rang through the speaker.

“Yoongi?!” you questioned. “Oh thank God,”

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why did you call last night?”

You sighed with relief.

“I’m just so glad you’re okay. Your cousin said that you were fine but I just had to make sure for myself,”

“Yeah, he told me that you called at around 1 in the morning? What happened?” he asked, confused.

“Oh...uhm….” you suddenly felt nervous. Why did it feel like you were revealing something big to him?

Almost like something bad was bound to happen.

“....Oh I get it, you just couldn’t stay away from me for that long, huh?” you could hear his cocky smirk from the other side of the phone.

“Haha,” you chuckled, though it wasn’t very enthusiastic. Yoongi immediately picked up on it.

“(Name), sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

His tone coaxed the words out of you.

“Well, in the mail we got a letter from the hospital and it said…” you sighed. “....it said that you had a stab wound to the stomach,”

You heard his breath hitch.

“And I-I panicked. I mean I didn’t know why we got the letter now and that made me think that it happened recently but then I realized that I didn’t see you get hurt at all when you were home so it had to have been that it happened while you were there in Daegu or it could be that it happened a while ago and they just forgot to send it-”

“(Name), calm down. You’re rambling,” Yoongi interrupted. You shut your mouth quickly. “It’s some kind of mistake, alright. I’m fine. Wouldn’t I tell you if something like that happened to me?”

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, knowing that there was truth behind his question. “Yeah, sorry, I was being stupid and paranoid,”

“No baby, it’s okay you were just scared. I’ll call the hospital and clear that up. Don’t think about it anymore. Thanks for worrying about me,” he smiled through the phone.

“Don’t thank me for that,” you laughed a little. “Anyway, how are you doing? How’s your grandmother?”

You listened to him sigh as you stood up to start getting ready for the day.

“She’s okay. I think she’s getting better,”

“That’s good to hear,”

“So that means I shouldn’t be away from home for too much longer...maybe like a few days or---uh actually maybe a week?”

You frowned at the unorthodox stutter and confusion in his voice.

“Well..okay?” you said, though it came out in a more questioning manner. “Take all the time you need,”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to keep me away so that you can invite some hot dude over?” and just like that the regular teasing was back. You snorted.

“Well maybe one,” you joked and Yoongi chuckled.

“Don’t even think about, sweetheart,” he warned playfully and you giggled.

“I won’t, I won’t. You know I only love you,” you reassured.

“You’d better,” he chuckled. “Wait...aren't you late for work?”

You paled.

“CRAP!!”

Ignoring Yoongi’s laughs on the other end, you quickly began running around your bedroom, trying to pull on something presentable.

“I gotta go, Yoongi. I’ll call you later?” you asked, stuffing some toast in your mouth.

“Okay, baby. Bye,”

“Bye Yoongi,”

And then you ran to work.

***

Your finger was getting tired of the continuous scrolling you were doing and your eyes felt overused as they lethargically scanned the screen of your laptop. Your senior had asked for your report in two days. The morning of the day after tomorrow, you’d be handing her a report all about gangsters in Seoul.

Without any solid proof.

That’s right. After more than a whole month of searching you had made no progress with finding any evidence that the gang existed. It made you feel terribly upset that all of your hard work would be thrown out the window so fast and without even a bit of consideration.

To make things worse, Yoongi was still in Daegu, so you had no one to comfort you and rant to.

You frowned at yourself.

Wasn’t that a little selfish? Here you were complaining that you needed Yoongi for a stupid work article while he was alone in Daegu suffering in fear for his grandmother’s health.

But the fact that you couldn’t fix either of those problems was annoying you.

You groaned loudly and fell back on your bed. Might as well accept your fate early and go do something else useful. You shut the screen of your laptop closed and stood up from the bed before making your way to the kitchen to make something edible. You turned on the stove and began to boil water, intent on making some pasta. You had to correct yourself when you realized that you were making it for only one, not two. You frowned. You missed Yoongi.

Your pasta was just reaching al dente when the doorbell rang. You blinked in confusion. Who would come over at this time of night?

You quickly checked your notifications for Yoongi’s name, thinking and more so, hoping, that he had come home and wanted to surprise you. The lack of what you were looking for suspended most of that hope and you quickly rushed to the door, smoothing your hair down in attempts to look the least bit presentable.

Seemingly for nothing because when you wrench the door open, you don’t find anything looking back at you except the regular view. You frowned in confusion, craning your neck from right to left to find a remaining clue of who had approached your door. You were about to dismiss it as some kids fooling around when you looked down. A brown box lay on the welcome mat (the mat that so graciously welcomed people with a ‘leave the money and go’ printed across it; Yoongi picked it). You picked up the box and headed back into the apartment, kicking the front door shut with a slight raise of your leg. You carefully scanned for a sender’s address but all you could see was the word FRAGILE scribbled across it in black Sharpie. It looked like some kind of amateur packaging, not like the typical post that came from the regular mail. The packaging tape was mediocrely pushed against the opening flaps to hold them together and the edges of the box were bent, as if it had been used multiple times before.

After finishing the pasta, you grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer, before quickly slicing all of the tape and the flaps opened up. You looked inside to find something unexpected.

There was no styrofoam or plastic that would have normally come with a fragile package. Instead, there were two items inside the otherwise empty box.

You pulled the first item out. A folded piece of paper.

Opening it, you began to read the few words scrawled across it:

You’re welcome. Use it well.

You frowned. You didn’t recognize the handwriting at all. First of all, who the heck was this? What did they do that deserved your gratitude? And use what well?

You flipped the paper over and felt your breath catch in your throat.

Don’t tell anyone about this. Danger is closer than you think, princess.

What? What the hell was going on?! What danger? And who is this?

That’s all that was on the paper so you reached into the box for the other item. A CD.

You got up and turned the T.V on, heart hammering in your chest. Sliding the disc into the slot, you waited nervously for it to load, taking a seat on the couch and suddenly craving Yoongi’s comforting presence. The loading sign disappeared.

At first, it was nothing but black. Then the scene unfolded.

Someone was filming. It was nighttime in the video.

“What are you doing?” someone hissed in the video. The screen panned to the voice, revealing a man. You couldn’t see anything but his eyes. A black mask covered the bottom half of his face and he had on a leather jacket that was zipped up to reveal no skin.

“Something important,” the filmer responded. He too was male, though he sounded a bit younger than the first. Hearing the filmer’s voice, the first man smirked. Or so was assumed by the stretch of his eyes.

“You’re a genius,” someone from behind praised, along with a few other murmurs that told you that the filmer wasn’t alone. You heard the filmer chuckle before he moved closer to the edge of the building wall they were hiding in. The camera moved to peek into the alleyway.

And you gasped aloud.

Seven men stood in the alleyway. They were tall, built, and clad in all black. They all wore practically the same thing. Black masks across their faces, black shirts, black pants (though a few were definitely ripped skinny jeans), and big heavy black combat boots. That wasn’t what caught your attention though. It was the gun resting on each hip that had you nervous. And their jackets. Because on their jackets was it. The thing you had been looking for since the day you got your assignment.

The logo.

The logo from the old woman’s alleyway was printed on the breast pocket of each jacket. It was a blood red symbol, although the shape was quite simple. Two trapezoids were facing each other, short side almost touching and you wondered how such a measly shape could have shiver going up your spine. When you saw the back of a few of them, the symbol was switched, this time the longer sides close together but still in deep red.

This was it. This was the gang.

The tallest of the group stepped forward, towards a crate you just realized was there. Along with being the tallest of the group, he exuded an intimidating aura. His light brown hair was styled in a way that made messy look confident. You couldn’t see his face, but his eyes were void of emotion, his perfect brows resting in an unimpressed frown. He snapped his fingers.

“Open it, Number 4,” he ordered and the deep voice that resonated through the quiet alley made you curl up on the couch. Another man stepped forward, a crowbar in his hand. He too, was tall, maybe an inch or two shorter than the first. His hair, unexpectedly, was a faded red and he gave the man a curt nod. Raising the metal bar in his hands, he eased the end into the lid and pushed hard. It popped off and Number 4 stepped away.

“Check it, 6,” the tallest said, turning away. Another man, as tall as Number 4, stepped forward. His hair was different, a pretty silver with a black bandana wrapped around his forehead. He crouched down in front of the crate and began rummaging through it. As he did, you looked to the bulkiest one of the lot. He had longer hair of a dark black that fell in front of his narrowed eyes. A plethora of piercings graced his ears and the muscles of his biceps strained through the leather of his jacket. But you were more focused on the knife he was skillfully twirling between his fingers.

Then you moved to another one. He was shorter in comparison to the rest of the group, but he could easily tower over you if he so desired. His hair, a shade of faded orange was messily unkempt, as though he had run his fingers through the strands multiple times. He too, was built, toned muscles visible through the outline of his clothes. He stood leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed and a leg crossed over the other, though he gave off a certain type of grace.

The next was too was a bit shorter in comparison. He had dark black hair and nothing more could be said except that he was basically shrouded in black. Even his eyes looked like they were black holes. The next one had light brown hair and a very big physique. His shoulders were basically broader than your future. His eyes were trained on Number 6 as he rummaged through the crate. One of his hands rested on his gun.

“All good, Sir,” Number 6 replied in the deepest voice you had ever heard, shutting the crate quickly.

You couldn’t help but notice that they never gave names. Smart.

“Good. 5, 2,” was all the leader, or you assumed, the leader said before he cocked his head towards the crate. The orange-haired man and the broad-shouldered man stepped forward and pulled the crate up together.

That’s when you noticed the big one. His breathing stilled and his shoulders tensed. The twirling of the knife stopped.

“Hyung,” was all he said, his voice strong. The leader made eye contact with him and then Knife Boy whirled around at the speed of light and chucked the knife straight at you.

You let out a shriek in the middle of your quiet apartment as the knife hit the wall.

“Shit!” the filmer yelled and another voice behind him yelled, “Fall back!”

The screen shook as the group of men ran before the video came to an abrupt halt.

You sat in your living room with wide eyes, pressed back against the couch as far as you could go. You legitimately thought that knife was going to pierce you through the eyes. Your heart was pounding like crazy as a spectrum of emotions ran through you. That was possibly one of the most thrilling things you had ever seen but a streak of happiness cut through that.

This was your proof.

This had everything you needed to actually submit this and have it published. It was perfect.

You stopped.

But wait, this was given to you by some mysterious stranger who was warning you of some kind of trouble and danger. Was this safe to use?

But they had given it to you with the message of ‘Use it well.’ So didn’t that mean that you could?

You thought about it. The gang in the video could so easily track you down for exposing them. They could hurt you, and the ones you loved. Was it worth that risk?

No. No, definitely not.

You pulled out the CD and placed it back in the box before closing it up, your heart sinking with disappointment.

As you sat down and stabbed a fork into your pasta you couldn’t help but think about how nice it would have been if you did manage to get some good evidence. Despite obviously having perfectly good evidence sitting on the counter.

No, (Name), it’s not safe.

But maybe you could use it. If you used it, it was almost 100% sure you’d be recognized by your seniors and your boss. Recognition could give you a promotion. You could finally start earning more money and win back your parents. You wouldn’t have to restrict yourself whenever you saw a pretty dress that was above the budget. Maybe you could even buy a better house for you and Yoongi to live in together. And then, perhaps you’d be able to comfortably pay for a wedding. Marry Yoongi, have kids--

You stood up and ran to the box, wrenching it open and pulling out the disc.

You had some downloading to do.

***

“(Name), can I see you in my office for a minute?”

You quietly groaned as your senior’s voice interrupted the conversation you were having.

[2:13 p.m.] (Name): ugh the witch is bothering me again

[2:14 p.m.] Grumpy: lol good luck

[2:14 p.m.] Grumpy: call me after work

[2:14 p.m.] (Name): ok <3

Clicking your phone shut, you stood up from your desk and started walking towards your senior’s office, not before throwing Seo Jin a pained expression, to which she responded with a sympathetic smile. When you arrived, you gave three knocks to the wood.

“Come in,”

Pushing the door open, you peeked inside and your senior was staring straight at you.

Oh God.

“Shut the door, (Name),” she said before motioning for you to sit down in front of her. You did as told.

“I read your report,” she stated, holding up the files between her fingers. You nodded nervously.

“I think you did a great job,” she said, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. You couldn’t help but beam.

“You have some great information here, along with a good setup for the interview. But what really tied it together was that evidence! Where on earth did you find that?” she asked curiously. You stilled for a second before spewing:

“Ah, you know you can find anything on the internet!”

She laughed a little.

“That’s true. Well I’m glad you found it. This is a very good article. I’ve forwarded a copy to the boss and she’ll review it. Depending on her take, we can talk about publication, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Thank you so much!” you said excitedly, bowing a full 90 degrees as she chuckled.

“Yeah yeah, don’t be too happy. Now get back to work; don’t you have those files to organize?”

“Yes! I’ll get right to that, Ma’am!”

After another thank you and eager smiles, you stepped out of her office and squealed silently before whipping out your phone. Clicking on Yoongi’s contact, you started typing:

you’ll never guess what just happened to me….

You paused.

You never did tell Yoongi that you submitted your article. You didn’t want him to worry about the evidence on top of all of his stress at home. So maybe it would be better to surprise him once he got home. Yeah, once he got home.

You tucked your phone back into your pocket and headed back to your desk.

***

Two days later, you found yourself in your senior’s office again, this time not alone.

“I have to say, Ms.(Name), this article is very professional,” your boss remarked as you sat quietly. “Your use of evidence is exactly what we need to make this a great hit!”

You looked up with wide eyes.

“Wait, so does that mean-?”

“(Name), we’ll be revealing your article to the public. It will be aired on the news along with the footage you provided. Congratulations,” she smiled. You couldn’t believe it. The thing you have been working at for so long was finally happening!

“O-Oh my goodness, thank you so much,” you stuttered not able to coherently form words.

“Mhm, and I believe that success like yours shouldn’t come without reward. How would you like to discuss a promotion?”

You couldn’t wait to tell Yoongi.

***

You sat on the cold seat, bouncing your knee eagerly, eyes trained on the doorway. You were absolutely sure Yoongi would walk out of there soon. It had stretched into a little over a month since you had last seen him and it felt like forever. Now you were waiting for him at the train station.

“....substantial information that gangs are running rampant in Seoul. A witness statement describes the men seen: “He was wearing all black and on the back of his jacket there was a logo. It was some kind of diamond. And he was holding a gun.” Investigators have reason to believe that this gang may be more dangerous than first thought. The witness attested to hearing a gun go off right outside of their home. Now we wonder just how many gangs run around our city and what they really do. Here we have some footage of an encounter with the gang….”

You eagerly watched the newsreel, seeing the clip that you received playing on the screen. You couldn’t help but be proud that your work was making the city more informed. You tore your eyes away from the screen when the clamor started. An influx of passengers flooded in from the platform and you excitedly stood up, searching for your boyfriend. You beamed when you caught sight of him looking around the station. Clad in simple black jeans and a dark blue hoodie, your boyfriend never looked so handsome. You eagerly ran towards him and he didn’t have any time to react before you threw yourself at him. Wrapping your arms around his body, you nuzzled into his warmth and breathed in his scent. He winced as you squeezed him but then relaxed, holding you close.

“I knew you missed me too much,” he muttered and you pulled back to give him a sharp smack.

“Shut up,” you frowned up at him. “I just missed your cooking,”

He scoffed with a roll of his eyes before pushing you away gently.

“Fine, I’ll just go back--”

“No, it’s fine! I’ll allow you to come to my house. But not because I like you or anything,” you said clutching his arm with a cheeky smile. He chuckled a little bit, eyes softening down at you.

“Missed you, (Nickname),”

You smiled.

“Missed you, too, Yoongs. Now, will you buy me some ice cream on the way home?”

***

“Okay, there aren’t any signs that there were any men here while I was gone,” Yoongi remarked playfully while inspecting the house after he had dropped his bag.

“Maybe I covered my tracks up well,” you responded, putting his other suitcase against the wall. He glared at you, though it was hard to take him seriously when his gummy smile was on full display.

“You know what you didn’t cover up? That,” Yoongi said, pointing at the couch where empty tubs of ice cream and piles of blankets lay from all of your Netflix marathons.

“Ehehe,” you chuckled weakly. “I meant to clean that,”

He raised a brow and fixed you with a pointed stare.

“I was going to! Honest!!” you defended, though now your smile was on show.

“Uh huh, sure you were. You remind me of a child, you know that?” he said, shaking his head with a grin before turning to go into the bedroom.

“Was that a compliment?” you called after him.

“No~~”

You pouted before following him and taking a seat on the bed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Yoongi. I’m clearly the more mature one in this relationship,”

“Sure. When I was turning 4 years old, you were just born, sweetheart. I’m definitely more mature; I’ve been in this world longer,” he replied, now pulling out clothes from his suitcase.

“Yeah but girls mature faster than boys, don’t they?” you countered.

“Not 4 years faster,” he smiled.

“Fine, you win this round,” you admitted defeat, shoulders slumping. His smile widened a bit at that, taking in your playfully dejected pout before he leaned forward to peck your lips. You blinked before smiling.

“Hey Yoongs?”

“Hmm?”

“You never told me about your cousin. The one I woke up at 2 in the morning,” you giggled.

“Oh haha, doesn’t matter. He deserved that. Lazy ass,” Yoongi muttered with a discreet roll of his eyes. You laughed.

“Why? You don’t like him?” you asked. He shook his head.

“It’s nothing like that. Of course, I like him. He’s practically my closest family. I just like bullying him since he’s younger. You know, like how I am with you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you replied sarcastically to which he grinned. “What’s his name?”

Yoongi paused for a second.

“Taehyung,”

“Ohh,” you nodded. “How old his he?”

“23, but why are you so curious?” he asked skeptically.

“I don’t know. He sounded cute,” you risked teasing and Yoongi smacked you with the shirt he had just pulled out. You laughed, pushing his hand away before your eyes caught something that made your jaw drop.

“WHAT IS THAT?!” you shrieked, looking at the shirt in Yoongi’s hand. “IS THAT BLOOD?!!”

Tag list: @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone, @sunshine-ruins

(comment or dm me if you want to be added!)

#bts #bts yoongi #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts fanfction #bts stories #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #suga #suga x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #bts non idol au #x reader #yoongi x reader #masterlist #euphoria-vmin7 #gnossienne

76 notes · View notes

maikatc · 4 years

Text

Black Sun Tale | A Child

we’re back baby !! and better than ever since boy does part two have a l o t. i was able to finish majority of the section during my hiatus and i hope you all love/feel so much pain in these events as much as i do!

remember this is only a first draft with only minor edits, but with that, enjoy! comments and reception are heavily appreciated

This isn’t gonna end well. The thought repeated itself over and over as Oliver scraped a pencil against his paper.

Birds chirped against the window. Their singing reached directly to his ears, and the office desk he worked on laid besides the porch’s side window. The sole reason being that his mother could gaze at the outside view to distract herself from paperwork, on purpose that is.

The boy’s focus on his words didn’t bother to fix up the curtains, afternoon sun shining against his pale eyes. His sight burned though stomach pains numbed his entire body to even notice.

A broken pocket-watch ticked at the side, breaking silence along with the birds. The out of time tune still held no bother to him.

The essay he wrote was… choppy, to say the least. Though, considering the class and grade he held, a childish essay would be an A in the gradebook.

He swapped through previous drafts and desktop computer facing him. The paper was almost done in his eyes.

He mumbled as he typed, “That’s why the cotton chine was just as important as anything else during the old ages… print.”

The events of the week prior lingered in his mind. In his head, Ayu’s decision must’ve already been a rejection. No doubt entered his mind on the option.

His mind etched on returning to the boy’s home, even after failing to realize said boy’s problems and risking his life in the process.

Then again, Ayu also didn’t kill him on the spot. And the more he thought, the image of Ayu’s concerned face, his eyes drooping and mouth bitten down as he gave a hand to him, it stuck to Oliver with the sole words,

“I’m not gonna leave you alone like this.”

… Paying back wouldn’t be so bad.

The printer beeped as a message rang in his phone buzzed for a message. He flinched at both sounds going off, growling as he picked up the phone first.

The messaged revealed to be from his mother,

I’m going to be back from work later than usual, sorry about that

But I prepped some food for you to have for dinner luckily! Hope you have a good day (11:54pm)

Oliver stared at the words. The brightness of the small text glimmered in his eyes.

He sighed, chucking the phone at cushioned chair in the corner. The traffic outside died down at the moment, leaving only the birds and clock to sing.

He shook off the day-old struggle and grabbed his paper from the printer.

***

“Oliver.”

“Hm?”

“How do you think of life right now?”

A small boy laid on his bed, barely reaching four feet. He played along with a new gift from his mother. His miniscule hands sored from the nylon after playing for long.

He lifted his head towards the boy across him, viewing his stature with his bowl-cut bangs and big green eyes.

The boy stood there, arms crossed. His skin was pale as a sheet. He covered up his left eye with his snow-white hair, while the other eye studied him with an ocean blue.

The streets outside bustled with noise from an ongoing festival. Though, the boy sat back, secluded in his own home to listen through a dense window.

“… What do you mean by that?”

He gestured at the window. “Your life… Do you like it?”

The boy tilted his head. “Of course, I do.”

“What do you even like about it?” He eyed him.

“Well,” the boy set down his instrument, setting his fingers to count. The left hand carried multiple papercuts from reading over and over. “I like my friends. I like my mom. School’s fun since people say I’m smart… I like T.V. and things I get and-”

The white-headed interrupted him with a short chuckle. “You like things, just like every kid I suppose.” He turned, pacing around the room.

The boy only sneered, “Wouldn’t you get that though?”

“… I assume so, yes. But it’s interesting to see kids grow to be so… people-caring. A shame for you and others.”

“What’s there to shame?”

“I-” the white-headed stammered. “It’s not so much to worry about.”

He avoided the boy’s eyes.

“Just… be careful when I’m not here.”

***

Another day on the streets, Oliver walked his way to a certain alley, ukulele in hand yet again.

The weather blew against his cardigan that day. Fall leaves flew left and right in fury, breezing past his hair and shoes in seconds.

Cold sweats dripped down his head. He paced and fidgeted during crosswalks.

He’s going to hate me. I’m gonna be a monster to him.

Thoughts kept spurring in his head. He itched towards his ukulele strap. His stomach cried all the same.

“Shut up,” he muttered, drifting off in the streets. That is, until he stepped towards the crosswalk of Pierdeli Avenue.

There stood a stubby woman. Her blue gown shined in beauty against the others standing, while her blonde hair laid kempt against her peachy shoulders. She stared at the cars with avid eyes, ignoring all those around her as they ignored her back.

However, Oliver stopped his steps as he approached her. He recognized her even from a blurry memory. “Alice… Are you here to talk with me some more?”

She blinked and shook her head. “Oliver! Forgive me for not noticing you pass by. The auto-mobiles are just fascinating to observe even after so long.” She gawked at the speeding car getting chased by the police. She ignored the police and went on. “And yes. I wished for more time with you and was just granted with all the free time in the world.”

A tacked-on smile was plastered to her face. “Right…” I get the cars, at least.

“Are you in a rush?” She faced him.

Oliver stuttered at the attention. “No, no. Not really.” He dug his hands to his pockets. “But you can still walk with me.”

“Ah, I see,” She nodded. Her excitement over the cars dying down by the second. “Pardon my intrusion then.”

The crosswalk light turned green as those surrounding them passed through. Oliver and Alice followed thus.

Her gaze continued looking over toward the streets as they walked in silence. Oliver’s words almost quivered out of his lips, though he hesitated for what to start with.

“Alice?”

“Yes,” she piped up.

“What exactly is going on with me?”

She stifled. “That’s…” sighing, “that’s what I expected you to ask, truly.”

“It was obvious, wasn’t it?” Oliver scoffed at her words. His eyes dabbled to the building walls, avoiding her expression over the answer.

“I can somewhat explain the factors; however, I’m still restricted on telling every detail…”

The boy pinched up, still ignorant of her face. He ordered, “Just tell me what you can.”

“Alright.” A hint of an accent could be heard from Alice, Oliver noted. British was all he could guess. Her voice gave a softer yet stern tone than his sweetly outgoing mother. Her voice was a different subject to focus on however, as he immediately snapped back once she began to speak again. “You… must do what you’ve already done for the rest of your life, I’m afraid. You’ll suffer more than just death if not.”

Her words were tense, as if her throat squeezed them out. They didn’t hit Oliver on impact, though his heart froze all the same. “There’s no way of stopping it, is there?”

She held back with an answer, only for her to breathe out, “No. There’s nothing at all.”

Alice kneeled down to him, halting Oliver midway in a mild-crossing sidewalk. People passed by the two of them with no batted eyes. She held him by the shoulders and focused on his eyes with her pale blue.

“Please believe me when I say this: None of this is your fault. You have the full right to blame this on me and my selfish actions or- God, I can’t even say his name.” She looked off with a painful smile. “Just- It was my own hasty actions that led this to happen. I’m deeply regretful and I apologize to the bottom of my heart… Do you understand?”

“I…” Fifteen seconds for an apology speech wow- “Yes. Yes, I do- Ma’am?”

The woman took her hands off his shoulders to hold his hands. She mumbled while staring down, “I know you must despise yourself; and I’m sorry for that as well.”

Oliver squirmed at the interaction. He leaned back as she froze to her own space. “Well uh…” his attention wavered, “no shit.”

She chuckled, letting go and standing up again. “Now, even if we’ve just met, you shouldn’t speak fowl words around me. I’m still your mother after all.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled, “’Isn’t that surprising that you try and censor me.”

They both took more steps together. Alice affirmed to him, “I’m only trying my best. After all, I haven’t been able to for the past eleven years…”

“… Why’d you put me in the foster homes?”

“That was someone else’s idea,” she instantly replied. “But I wanted you to at least have some kind of normality for the first years of life.”

Oliver’s face dulled. “And I’m guessing you weren’t ‘allowed’ to talk to me then?”

She nodded with no other explanation to her answer.

Oliver groaned. He took a breath to ask another question. “So, if you really are my mom, then where’s my dad? Wouldn’t he have something to do with this?”

“He’s…” she looked back, “not here anymore.”

“Oh, okay.” He replied to her with a calm stance, walking off without much of a reaction. “Kinda like the family I’m in now then.”

“Pardon?”

“My adoptive mom’s a widow too. My dad’s death was the reason she adopted me in the first place.”

“I see…”

“What happened to my actual dad then? Did he die from old age or something?” After all, Vittorino said you were ancient.

“Oh, no!” Alice exclaimed, “He didn’t pass from that. We were both similar to immortals. He simply passed due to circumstances.”

Circumstances…?

“Still,” she added, baring a faint smile, “your father was a great man. A bit of a dunce so to say, though endearing at best.”

Her smile brought Oliver to a suspicious stare. “… Why can’t I know so much about this?”

“Why?” She sighed. “Our leader doesn’t want you to discover much so fast. That’s all there is. However, you’ll be able to figure out many things as time goes along.”

Well, that’s helpful.” He chewed on his lip. “You know Vittorino, right?”

“Of course, I do. I’m the reason he watches over you.”

“What situation are you in that led you guys to know each other?”

“Oh… you have the first half at least.” She cleared her throat, taking a breath. “We’re both a part of a society that lets you be immortal. Though, in exchange, we have to kill somebody once a month; otherwise, we’ll be executed.”

Oliver froze. “I’m sorry, what-”

“I understand it’s absurd. Our leader himself is absurd, after all,” she jeered. “But at least he gave us a ‘break’, so to say, on that.”

“You’ve killed people too, then?”

“Yes.”

“And is that why my dad died?”

Her lips pinched together. “… yes.”

An awkward silence held them apart. The large crowds chattering away covered up their distance.

“There are two groups in our society.” Alice continued what she started. “There aren’t many First Eras left… We hated what we were doing, enough to kill ourselves. I’m one of the last ones, and the leader’s aide all the same.”

“How many of you are there left?”

“Five, including myself.” Her voice held no emotion with the statement. Oliver gulped at the amount.

“Then,” he shrugged off the concept, “what about the group?”

“Second Eras? They’re stranger to say the least. Our leader took most of them in when they were mere children, so they were raised to believe murder was moral enough.” She added, “They’re all disturbed. And Vittorino was the first of that era.”

Oliver raised a brow at her. “If you say he’s disturbed, then why do you leave one of ‘em to check up on me?”

Alice answered without a thought. “He was older than most when being taken, so he has a bit more sense to him than the others. Besides, he was the only one willing to out of boredom and favors. I would’ve gotten someone I trust more if she wasn’t an arse about it.”

“So Vittorino was a prick but was more willing than the other prick?”

“Practically.”

Oliver chuckled at her last comment. Though, it crossed his mind that a certain street faced him.

“Um, Alice?”

“I’m about to get to the place I’m going.” He pointed at Ayu’s street. “So, can you go…?”

She opened up with an, “Oh!” adjusting her hair. “Of course, I can.” She began to walk away from him.

“Goodbye then,” she waved, “I hope to see you soon.”

“Yeah,” he hesitantly waved back. “Thanks for the info.”

She disappeared with the crowds; Oliver stared in the distance. The answer he’d gotten in the walk boggled his thoughts. His mother was at least readable, yet restricted all the same.

The puzzle of his origins still floated in the air, close enough to reach, it was just a ‘leader’ that blocked out the useful pieces.

“Who the hell is the guy anyways,” Oliver muttered. Well, a dick out of anything.

He shrugged it off, along with the prior conversation as Ayu’s alleyway stood right in front of him.

In a turn, Oliver peeked through the opening with browned moss. Inside the small home, a lump sat in the middle of the ground.

Oliver tilted his head at the figure, bewildered. “Guess they’re not here…” He entered without another thought, pondering over the little lump.

It bared small little cloth fuzz that moved off from the gentle winds. Oliver leaned over for a closer look; its appearance began to manifest. From ahead, the lump formed to shape. And at the end of the wrapped-up figure was a big tuff of black hair brushing against Ayu’s dry skin.

Oliver backed up from his observations after realizing the lump was just Ayu. The boy fidgeted from his blanket as he slept. Murmurs filled Oliver’s ears. He didn’t bother trying to translate the sloppy whispers, instead sitting down by the sleeping boy.

Settling his bag, he grabbed his ukulele and began tuning. It didn’t take long for him to start strumming. The notes took him off-course from his mental state. It only took the matter of a few chords to bring some satisfaction.

He glanced around at his surroundings while playing. Ayu’s blanket seemed too thin and worn to get any good sleep; his calendar flew left and right that it was only a matter of time until it fell out its tape; and a small journal laid next to Ayu’s sleeping body, right there in the open.

Oliver put his playing at a halt. He placed his instrument down with careful sound, replacing it with the journal. He glanced down at Ayu with weary eyes. Though, after no signs of waking up, Oliver sneered at himself. He turned, hiding the journal from Ayu’s sight, opening it up to read through anything humorous.

First pages: Hilarious. Each held lackluster art. Long torsos, disturbing eyes, no feet, and anything else that could make a drawing off. The scribbles on the side left the artist looking illiterate. Oliver skimmed through it all with puffs of laughing breaths.

However, as the pages went on, the boy encountered pages full of sloppy writing. He squinted his eyes to get at least the beginning of some, though ultimately had to skip to recent pages for better handwriting.

The dates counted for every day. Each day held for every time he did nothing, when he made something new, when he failed, anything. And with almost all entries, there would be a continuous statement: “No Akeldama.”

… Who’s Akeldama?

I havent seen Lillie in a whyle.

Who’s Lillie?

Annette told me that theres bin area deths in the forest for a whyle now

… shit-

The journal was taken from his grasp. He flinched in shock and above him stood Ayu with the item. “What are you doing?”

“I uh-” Oliver’s eyes shifted to the abandoned blanket. “When did you even wake up?” I didn’t even notice him walking.

“A minute ago. But what are you doing with this?” His raspy voice set a colder tone than usual. His red glare shook Oliver up.

“I was just waiting for you to wake up and got curious. Your drawings look cool!”

Ayu frowned with skeptic eyes. He rolled his eyes, yawning, and sat by Oliver. “Fine then.”

“I wanted you to sleep. You don’t seem to get much of it anyways with the traffic.”

“It’s alright, Oliver, really.”

…

“I wanted to talk to you,” Oliver started, “about what happened last week. A bit more straightforwardly at least.”

“I’d figure.” He huffed an awkward chuckle.

“But- uh…” Oliver avoided the boy’s eyes, words couldn’t fill the air. In the midst of his pause, a brief sight of Ayu’s legs reminded him. They were still skinny to the bone as always. “My mom left me food to cook… and I know you need it more than I do.”

His eyes held Oliver with confusion: lowered lips and a blank stare. “So, you want to talk at…?”

“My house. I’ll make the food myself,” God, I hope this is good. “You can shower and wash your clothes first if you want, since I can tell you need some cleaning.”

“I… thanks.” A blush tickled his face. Oliver peered at the dark red against his pale skin. Strange. “I don’t really wanna be an annoyance to you but-”

The boy snapped out of his stare. “It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re struggling like me so it’s the least I can do.”

“Then,” Ayu stood up, padding his dry, open skin, “shouldn’t we get going?”

A blank stare stroke Oliver in a hesitant essence. Nonetheless, he followed. “Um, yeah!”

***

Smoky air blew against the heat fan. Oliver’s eyes focused solely on the meal cooking on the pan. Ayu sat on the side fresh out of the shower and wash. He curled up in his tall seat as he sipped upon a cup of water. They both avoid each other’s eyes; They both allowed the sounds of oil burning up to play over them.

Oliver hesitated speaking. His past thoughts reoccurred to him.

Even if I excuse anything, it’s not like he’ll change his mind.

“What’re you making?” Oliver passed the question off until realizing it was Ayu. He twisted his head back. Ayu still stared at the cup he held. “It smells good.”

“It’s just lemon pork tenderloins. My mom usually gives me pork stuff for me all the time since it used to be my favorite.” He answered with a blank tone, without any joy in his eyes as he cooked.

“Isn’t that stuff hard to make?”

“Not really,” Oliver noted, “Cooking’s pretty easy for me; but that’s inconvenient at best.” He tried to make a stuttered laugh, though he missed the idea of food tasting as good as back then.

They both took another pause.

“You don’t know how to cook yourself, Ayu, don’t you?”

“No… I was usually just given junk food anyways.”

“Then,” he lowered the stove heat, “here, I can show you.”

A skeptical tone overtook him. “You want me to cook?”

“No, I’m going to help you.” Oliver reassured him. So, then you don’t burn the house down. He went off from the stove and set his hands on the table that stood in front of Ayu. “It’ll just be the cooking part of it. That’s easy enough, right?”

“But isn’t that the part where I can burn the house down, like you said?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on it.” He set aside Ayu’s cup from his hands. “This is how I was taught so you’ll be fine.”

***

“So… you just gotta wait ‘til it’s brown?”

The last tenderloin was tossed in the fryer as Ayu asked for once.

“Yes,” Oliver answered. He glared at the one’s Ayu cooked on the side, “Not until they’re charred.”

“I guess that’s easier to follow than cutting it up to see if it’s red inside.”

Oliver bit his lip. “Yeah, I guess that’s more of a chicken thing than pork… but I just grew the habit of being safe.”

Ayu shrugged. “If it’s edible, I’ll eat it.”

“Even a human?”

Ayu frowned at the joke. “There’s a limit.” Oliver’s chest tightened at the mistake.

“… We’re still not gonna talk about that now.”

“Yeah, yeah…” he mumbled, staring at the meat in the pan.

Ayu’s wet hair had started to dry out. It puffed up to the same shape it was before. The hair kept Oliver distracted for the silent seconds. His hand reached to touch a small tuff, stroking for a short moment. It’s just soft. “Your hair’s weird.”

His eyes blinked once or twice. “What?”

“Well, it’s long enough to make you look like a girl,” he snorted.

Ayu pulled his hair in front of him. It blocked half of his face. “Shut up. It’s hard to find a way to cut it good by yourself.”

Oliver noted, “That and even when washed, it looks like a puffball.”

“Okay, that’s just how my hair works.”

Oliver gave a small huff of a chuckle. “I’ll get you gel sometime then. It’s distracting-”

“No, don’t get gel,” Ayu retorted, “Annette tried it on my once and I thought it was gross.”

“Why gross…?

“My hair felt like greasy stone, that’s why.”

“… Ayu, that’s the point.”

“Then I don’t like that point.” He grabbed the spatula and plopped the last tenderloin on the serving plate. “I think it’s done.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Huh, that one actually looks pretty good.”

“Just give me more simple directions next time then,” he grumbled.

Oliver sat with his mouth shut. Ayu faced directly next to him. He watched as the boy stuffed himself with everything made.

Oliver was greeted with nothing in front of him. There laid empty space: no plate, no food, only a fork he toddled with his hands.

“Damn, this was great…” He mumbled with a full mouth.

“Like my mom says, even when ruined, it’ll still taste great.”

A whack slammed to Oliver back. His voice squeaked, “Motherfu- that hurt!”

Ayu snorted. “Sorry. Just don’t roast me like that.”

Oliver glared at him.

“Still, tell your mom that I like the recipe.” He took another bite.

Oliver dropped his fork against the table after seconds of no conversation. He tensed himself with his words, “About last week, on my birthday…”

Ayu glanced back in confusion, then swallowing and facing down. “Y-yeah…”

No words were said yet again, only an apparent atmosphere of the topic in the air. Oliver prayed to not choke on it.

No, it doesn’t have to be now.

He stammered, “You know what? Let’s not focus on that right now.”

Ayu blinked. “Wait what?”

“We can just talk about that later; we have all day!” The boy forced a curve on his lips.

Ayu stuttered, “Uh sure-”

“What shows do you- did you watch before all of that?”

“… Hm,” he scratched on the dry skin on his cheek, “My family didn’t watch that much. Just VHS movies and Crimson stuff on Saturdays, I think. I just played around with someone most of the time…”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned Crimson.” Oliver hopped down from his seat.

He shrugged. “I watched them the most out of anything.” He smiled while staring at the air. “They were just cool and people made ‘em cooler, yanno?”

“Sure,” Oliver replied without a thought. As Ayu talked, he walked to the TV, setting up the DVR. “I was never really into that stuff, but either way, you’re missing out.”

“I’ve been ‘missing out’ for four years actually.”

Oliver chuckled at the joke. “Well, ever heard of The Mr. Rious House?”

“Annette might’ve talked about it a little but no, not really.” He climbed out of his seat with careful steps on the stool.

“Oh, boy you’re in for a ride.” With only a press of a remote control, the television set played the crackles of thunder. Ayu jumped at the sound.

“God, damn it- wait is that a dead body?”

Oliver sneered, “Yep, and this is a kid show’s first minute of the first episode.”

“Well this is going to be… a thing.” Ayu sat down on the couch with wobbly knees.

This’ll be fun.

“It won’t,” he hissed, curling up to his knees with an organ playing.

***

“This house isn’t fun.”

The third episode began to play. Oliver and Ayu had settled themselves on the couch with separate blankets, Ayu’s being thicker and covering his entire being.

Oliver sat against the middle cushion. He enjoyed himself over the nostalgia of the first few episodes while glancing over at Ayu’s reactions ever so often.

It all consisted of him flinching and muttering words of help. Humorous to say the least.

“Just wait until you see Mr. Rious, Ayu. He’s the best character.”

He glared at the screen. “I don’t wanna see this man.”

“He’s a fun dad for Noll,” Oliver chuckled. “Wait, that’s a spoiler.”

The show continued to play and Oliver watched along the adventure.

“What do you mean Rious still isn’t here? He hasn’t been in five years! What is this about him being my-”

“Oliver?”

The boy snapped back from his focus. “What is it?”

“You said you were adopted, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“How’re your parents then?”

“Oh.” Oliver hummed in consideration. “I just have an adoptive parent really. It’s me and my mom here.”

“Huh… Did you ever have a dad?” Ayu tilted his head down, curious eyes shining at Oliver.

“I apparently did before my mom took me in.” He leaned back. “He died and got my mom her career choice.”

“Really?” The blanketed boy’s tone didn’t hold as much emotion as prior. “How’d that happen?”

“Simple. He killed himself during college years.”

Ayu choked.

“Now that’s the reaction I expected,” Oliver stated dully.

Ayu gawked, “You don’t just say someone killed himself like that, Jesus Christ-. I thought he just got in some accident or monster attack!”

Oliver shrugged. “My mom thought I was mature enough to tell me when I was younger and I think I’ve matured enough over the past years to talk about it… Probably the most fucked up thing I can say about myself without getting arrested.”

Ayu frantically blinked over and over. “Do- do you ever think about him? Or like, miss him or anything?”

Oliver scoffs. “That’s always the dumb question. I never even knew him; how would I miss him?” He ponders for a second. “Thinking is another thing.”

Ayu didn’t give a reply. The show played as they talked.

“Sure, it’s always interesting to hear about him, I guess. But I mostly just think about him in ‘what if’ scenarios.”

Ayu’s face gleamed with worry. “Like…?”

Oliver bit his lip, then took a breath. “Like what if I die like that?”

Ayu’s eyes widened. What did he expect? His mouth fell flat as he muttered. “I…”

“Noll! What are you even doing?”

“Look, I know I screwed up some times, but this’ll help, won’t it?”

“… Don’t?”

“What? Don’t die?”

“Yeah…”

Oliver smiled. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s been the plan for a while. ‘Least for my body and sub-conscious to say so-”

“Just don’t die, please.” Ayu tugged on Oliver’s blanket. “It’s a dumb thing to ask, but… it’s not fun.”

Oliver studied his expression hidden through his hair. It was torn with scared eyes staring and glimmering a vermillion again. His reaction begged the question: so, who did he have to deal with? But the boy pushed aside the conversation at the end of it. “Let’s keep watching.”

“I uh, yeah that ending scared me.”

“Your reactions are some of the best. But did you really not expect Rious to do that?”

“Look I was hoping he’d be a funny, crazy guy,” Ayu retorted.

“You watch Crimson. Don’t they have screwed up villains in that?”

“Yeah but that was different. Crimson made them goofballs in the end!”

Oliver just eyed him. “Did it really creep you out that much? You’ve definitely seen worse-”

“Yes, it did.”

He laughed it off and transferred the topic. “I learned one of the themes on my uke. They were fun ones, weren’t they,” he teased.

“Shut up.”

Oliver sat up. “The song’s kinda slow but I did it.” He paced back to his room to grab his ukulele out of the case. In the corner of his eye, he peered his switchblade on the corner chair. A piercing in his bloody lip could suffice for the time being, so he stepped aside. He won’t come into this room anyways.

He ran back to the living room where Ayu played with his now soft hair and sat back next to him.

“Surprisingly the full version sounds really nice,” Oliver mumbled as he tuned up his instrument a bit. “Okay…” He took a breath before starting a set of chords.

Overall, the protagonist’s theme laid great poetic-ness to the story as a well-meaning representation of his backstory and foreshadowing to come, at least in Oliver’s head. The theme was rather soft. The plucking of the strings following and drifting along one by one emerged the room in an echoing tragedy. Notes played to the tune of the mother’s lullaby of tender somber, and eventually, her words began.

“If you sing me a lullaby,

Then maybe a love song too…

And one day, you’ll sing me a requiem,

And someday, they’ll sing yours too.”

Her song was a simple poem, not much substance in lyrics. The song held meaning in the story at least.

After some repetition, it took a few strums and tabs to finish the piece.

“And that’s the song.” Oliver set down the ukulele while speaking. “It might be a little boring but who knows, my music tastes may just be boring.”

“You really sing good,” Ayu commented.

“Well, you mean, I sing well.”

“Shut the hell up,” Ayu pushed Oliver, nearly making the boy fall over from the force. “I hated grammar out of anything in school.”

“School’s pretty easy,” Oliver flaunted, striking a pose. “But I’ve also been told that I’m gifted in music.”

“Oh yeah? Then stop being a show-off,” Ayu snapped back at him.

“Sorry,” he replied, with no meaning expressed in his words and tone.

Oliver returned back to his ukulele to play with the strings. The tune he formed ended up being major somehow. Things are going well for now at least-

“Oliver, are we gonna talk?”

Great, I jinxed it. “Huh?”

“You said you were going to but… I guess you just wanted to distract yourself.” Ayu crawled closer to Oliver.

The boy didn’t make any movement; he continued playing with a nod.

“You… really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Another nod.

“Look…” Ayu started. “I get this entire thing is fucked up. I still think it’s too fucked up for me to- allow it to get in my head. But I can still listen… I wanna be helpful for somebody for once. ‘Specially with that stuff you were saying earlier…”

Oliver stayed quiet.

Ayu sighed. “I’m sorry if I scared you there… Just say what you want.”

Oliver’s melody dwindled down each beat getting slower until a full stop. He breathed in and out before saying few words. “I can’t fix it if you were wondering.”

“What?”

“I’m supposed to be like this, without a choice.” He took a pause. “I think I was a pretty big accident.”

Ayu’s face scrunched up. “I don’t think jokes are good for right now.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I can’t change or control it. And I may end up hurting both you and Annette so… I think it’s best that you guys stop hanging out with me. Like most people.”

Ayu curled up more into his blanket with pondering eyes. “… I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure-”

“You’re one of the only people I can actually talk to, Ollie. You look like a good guy too.” His stared up directed into Oliver’s gaze. “I don’t think you should give up on a possible answer just yet.”

“I,” Oliver stumbled on words. “I still wanna keep at least some distance.”

“How come?”

“Well, whenever I make friends, I end up screwing them over the worst way possible by accident so that’s a reason.”

Ayu blinked up again. Then realized. “Oh.” He made a crooked smile, brows faced with slight worry. “I’m pretty sure I’m strong enough, still.”

Oliver’s face goes sour in doubt.

“Oh yeah… how come you always wear that jacket?” Ayu tugs at the red cardigan. “Don’t you have more?”

“I do,” Oliver answered. “But I mainly use this one since blood stains are harder to find with this.”

Ayu cringes. “That… sucks.”

“It does.” Oliver tugged his left sleeve farther down. “It really does.”

Oliver looked over at the clock on the stove. He stood up and dragged Ayu to get up too. “You should get going. My mom’s gonna be here in an hour. Do you want me to take you?”

Ayu passed him off. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for bringing me over. I feel fresh, yanno?” He pulled up his newly cleaned jacket up to his nose, eying Oliver as he sniffed it.

Is he trying to hide that? Oliver chuckled at the thought. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Uhm, see ya later.” Ayu grinned as he shut the door.

Oliver only muttered back his words; however, as soon as the door closed, he rushed to his room and jumped onto the bed. “Oh, thank God!”

“Thank Him for what?” Vittorino appeared against the wall like every day.

“I have a dog’s nose and he doesn’t smell terrible anymore. Plus, he didn’t wanna kill me!”

“Oh, right. It wasn’t that surprising.” He snickered. “It’s been a week again, how’ve you been.”

“Shut your damn mouth; I almost forgot about it.”

“Hungry then,” he proclaimed. “Are you gonna eat soon?”

“Til I’m forced to, I’m not gonna.” The boy slugged himself off the bed to the switchblade on the chair. “Now, if you can please leave? I’m about to have a snack.”

He made his way to the bathroom routine.

“Sure, fine. Just don’t drink too much. Alice’ll get mad at me again.” He disappeared as soon as he told.

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure she will.”

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #bst #chapter 8 #swearing warning #suicide mention #death mention #murder mention?#blood mention warning #why are my tags always like this #bst oliver #bst alice #bst ayu #bst vittorino

9 notes · View notes

httpdabi · 5 years

Text

Mom’s Boss

Word Count: 9.2k

Caracters: Wonho x OC

Genre: Comedy, romance, smut

Warnings: 18+, public, age gap

I was never into older guys, or guys my horrible mother brought home. Until I saw her handsome boss... and suddenly, my mind was changed.

Growing up as a only child wasn’t a problem for me. It didn’t affect me the way it did a lot of people. I remember some girls nagging how they want a brother or a sister. In my case it wasn’t like that. Not like I didn’t want a little sibling, but that child would only suffer. He would live without parently love just like I did and honestly, I wouldn’t wish that even to my worse enemy.

My parents got divorced when I was only 6 years old. Usually parents fight for the child because they love him. Mine were fighting over me simply to win. Because of the pride I guess.

At that time I didn’t understand what was going on, but once I got older I started to think about how would it be if my father won on the court.

Now when I’m 21 years old things got different. I could go where ever I want, but I didn’t really have any normal possibility. My father got new wife and literally new family. His wife can’t stand me, she has an attack simply hearing my name.

Finding a job and living on my own was also impossible, since I’m still a student. You simply can’t find a job without any experience and even if you do it’s not well paid for living. Like you can’t find an apartment or anything.

That’s why I’m stuck with my mother.

Now, all I Want is to have my own space, to be left alone and of course my mother did as I wanted, in fact, gladly. In other words, she just continued what she did before, ignored my existence.

Sometimes when my fathers wife goes somewhere he would visit me over and for a moment I feel a bit better. After his work we would to make pancakes together and talk about life. But even then, things weren’t as I wished they would be. He never suggested anything, he didn’t want to break his new family. He didn’t want to make his wife mad. The only thing he did and is still doing is sending me a bit money every month, so I could buy myself everything for uni or at least have some money for coffee and so.

I didn’t make any problems, wanting to hurt my mother wasn’t my intention. After all, was that even possible ? Whit what can I hurt her ? Anything I do doesn’t bother her at all.

,, Happy birthday!!’’ My best friend Jiso screamed, jumping on me and pushing the present she bought me, in my hands.It was too early and I honestly didn’t expect that she will give me a present immediately.

,,Open it!’’ she ordered and smiled at me cutely. I nodded my head sleepily and started opening the small packet. It was so well decorated, I felt sad that I had to ruin it.

When I opened it I found my favorite sweets, the book I was looking for a long time, my favorite movies and some marches from my favorite youtuber.

,, Thank you so much’’ I said and hugged her tightly. Maybe for some people that kind of present was cringe, but for me it was perfect. It showed how well she knows me.

,, Wanna go eat some cake after uni ?’’ I asked her, I knew that she will agree, that I didn’t even to ask actually. But you never know.

In the class some people remembered my birthday and some didn’t. I found it cute how my friends made a small prank on me, giving me presents when the lunch break was. But not normal presents. For example, Taehyung gave me toilet paper, Changkyun gave me a pack of noodles, Lisa gave me cheese, Ilhone gave me his picture. I found it nice that they made such a cute plan, I mean, they didn’t forget me. At the end they gave me two games I wanted to buy for my Play Station. Spyro and Crash Team Racing.

Seeing the confused faces of other students when they saw Tae giving me a toilet paper made my day. They were all like what the fuck. Even some professors were giving us that wtf look.

The whole time Jiso was planning something, what could we do, not giving me even a second to resist. If she wasn’t talking, she was writing something n notebook for me to read. So in short, random uni day.

,, First, we can go to starbucks and have a coffee and eat some cake. Then we can go eat some bbq and drink a bit’’ Jiso said placing her arm around my shoulder.

,, Or we can go drink a coffee and go drink tonight.’’ I suggested, having a sudden urge to party and get drunk. Even tho Jisoo and others made my day, I was still upset. Upset because my mother didn’t even bother to send me a message. But I was trying to stay positive, maybe she didn’t forget. Maybe she wanted to graduate me in person or maybe she even had a surprise for me.

,, Well, that can do too. We didn’t go out for a long time’’ she said like she was thinking out loud.

,, Wanna go party or go drink a cocktail ? ‘’ I asked as I took my wallet out of my bag before we got inside the Starbucks. As usual it was full. While I was buying us coffee and cake, Jiso was looking for a place to sit.

When everything was done, I took our food and looked for her. She found a nice and comfortable place to chill. It was in a corner, the perfect corner where you can choke on your cake without people staring at you.

,, I can’t wait to get drunk. I miss the taste of Sex on the beach’’ she said closing her eyes and imagining the fresh taste of the cocktail.

,, Yeah, we can go to peaches. I also miss that perfect banana cocktail. ‘’ I said feeling totally excited for the night ahead of us.

,, What will you wear tonight ?’’ She asked me with full mouth, plus adding some coffee in her mouth.

,, My black skirt and probably my leopard printed shirt, I bought it yesterday. It’s really nice, it shows my shoulders ‘’ I said trying to explain how it looks.

,, Can’t wait to see, it will definitely look amazing on you. You’ll get laid’’ she said with her usual derp face.

,, Well, I just wanna get drunk’’ I said as I winked at her, making her roll her eyes. That was definitely her new habit.

Anyway few days ago I decided to watch out and eat only healthy food, to lose some weight, and here I’m eating the nutella cake like there is no tomorrow. Yeah, which means, Mission impossible 6 just came out, it’s called me on a diet.

It was around 5 PM when we finally decided to go home. The whole day we were simply lazy together gossiping other people we know and judging people we don’t know.

I wasn’t so excited about facing my mother. I had some nice time with Jiso and thinking about dealing with her was running my mood already.

When I got home for a moment I thought how it would be better if she just got somewhere else and forgot that I even exist.

But hey,

When I got in the house, she did surprise me, only that wasn’t a surprise I was hoping for.

She was sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine in her hand and on the arm chair, with a whiskey was sitting a man. He was tall, well built. His black hair was like a perfect contrast with his bright and clean skin.

They both looked at me totally confused. I understand why the man was confused, he didn’t know me, he probably didn’t even know I exist, God knows if she ever mentioned that she has a daughter. But why was she confused ?

,, Oh, hi dear! You are home’’ She said, standing up and placing the glass on the table. I looked at her even more confused and even pissed off. It was irritating, every time when she brings some man home she acts like we are happy family.

,, This is my boss’’ she added fast, while I was pouring some juice in my glass. I turned around and looked at them. It was a first time I could say that the man she brought home was actually really handsome.

I made my way toward the man and gave him my hand and honestly that move shocked her more then anything.

,, Hoseok’’ he said while shaking my hand. I said my name and nodded my head, giving him a sign that it’s nice to meet him. My mother was really shocked, I think she would be less shocked if I took a gun and shoot him. I never acted that way toward any of her mans. Well, being honest, I wanted to make a scene, but her boss is such a snack.

Her taste in man was always so horrible, but this time it was an excuse. Even tho she’s my mother, I wasn’t sure what was he doing with her.

After that, I just turned around and made my way toward my room. Being totally honest, if I had a boss like him, I would definitely never call sick.

I jumped on my bed, closing my eyes and taking few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down a little bit. Not wanting to listen to their conversation. I put my earphones in and closed my eyes on few minutes.

The fact that she really didn’t know its my birthday, mad me almost cry. I was breathing heavily, trying not to cry.

When I finally calmed down and when the right time arrived, I changed in the outfit I planned and started doing my makeup. I didn’t reay care about what they were talking about, but for a second they took my attention.

,, You got a really pretty daughter’’ I heard Hoseok saying, making me more curious. On my surprise my mother didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything, all she did was changing the topic.

In a short time my makeup was done and I was totally ready. So I took my bag and made my way out. They were sitting in the kitchen, once again, their eyes on me.

,, Where are you going?’’ My mother asked, giving me one of her most disgusted looks.

,,Out’’ I simply said and she nodded her head. Her behavior was very irritating, it made me look like I’m the bad one.

,, Come eat with us’’ she said, thinking I’ll just ignore her, as usual. But instead of ignoring her, I just took a plate and sat there with them.

For a moment she got lost, I felt she just adopted me and didn’t know how to start the conversation.

,, Don’t drink too much tonight’’ she said, trying to act like a caring mother.

,, Aha’’ I nodded my head, showing how I don’t give a flying fuck about her and her act.

,, I wish you would stop acting like this’’ she said acting like she was really hurt. At that very moment I understood why Leonardo Dicaprio didn’t win an Oscar for such a long time. My mother took them all. Such a great actor.

,, Just let me eat’’ I said almost rolling my eyes, while Hoseok was eating quietly, probably feeling extremely uncomfortable.

,, I’m your mother, you have to listen to me’’ she said placing spoon on the table. If I didn’t plan to kill myself with alcohol, I wouldn’t deal with her at all, but I had to eat something, anything.

I just ignored her and started eating. I actually felt really uncomfortable because her handsome boss was there. Trying to keep my mouth shut, I just continued to eat. But she was pushing every button possible. When she said how I’m always like that, I wanted to slam the plate against her face.

Without a word, I just stood up, took my stuff and went out.

Taking one cigarette to calm myself down, I texted Jiso that I’m on my way and on my luck, she was already ready.

My mind was still surrounded with words my mother spat on me. All the crap she said, how she behaved. It was still pissing me off and I couldn’t wait to start drinking and forget about it.

Jiso was waiting for me in the center, staring at her phone, smiling and typing real fast. Probably some guy. She always had guys flying around her. I mean, she has a beautiful face and beautiful personality. If I was a man I would also try to get her.

She placed her phone in her bag an hugged me. She looked really incredible. As always. She can wear a trashcan and still look amazing.

,, Oh my god, look at Jooe. She always tries to look like Kylie Jenner or something’’ she said when she saw Jooe standing beside McDonald’s with some guy.

,, Kylie Jenner Walmart edition’’ I said laughing.

,, One dollar store’’ She added giggling. Jooe was always that kind of person trying to be good with everyone, but gossiping all the time. Or just simply and in short. She was fake.

Anyway, we didn’t waste any time. Cigarettes were already bought and the only thing we needed was alcohol.

Of course we didn’t go out alone. Taehyung, Changkyun, Ilhoon and Lisa also wanted to join us and being honest that really made me happy.

There was a time when we used to go out every weekend and we really had so much fun. Every time after going out we would go to someone’s place and order pizza and talk till we all fall asleep.

We met Lisa near the club and made our way in. It was a 2000th party so we were really excited. Like every fucking song hits you like a truck. SIMPLY LOVE IT.

We found the table we reserved and immediately ordered the drinks, starting with the banana cocktail I missed so much. The music was already amazing, as always. We really knew every fucking song, it was really awesome.

After some time, the guys arrived. They were much worse then us. They loved parties like this one.

Thanks to my friends, I forgot about my mother, I forgot about what happened earlier. We were having so much fun.

,, Let’s go smoke one’’ Jiso screamed and I just nodded my head and we both made our way to a smoking zone.

When we got out, the song Pump it started playing and being honest the song isn’t something special, but me and Jiso loved Fergies part, or whatever her name is. We used to listen the whole song only because of it.

We sat on the small couch and lit our cigarettes, singing her part loudly not giving shit if other people were looking at us weirdly.

,, Just let it go, let it go HERE WE GOO’’ we screamed before Jiso hit me with her elbow.

,, That guy over there is checking you out’’ Jiso said, giving me a sign which one. At first I couldn’t see which one, until he lifted his glass in the air and winked at me. It was no one other then my mother’s boss.

At first I looked like I saw something non-natural but then I jus smiled and waved at him.

,, The fuck, you know him?’’ Jiso asked in shock.

,,Well yes, no, I don’t know. We met today, actually, few hours ago’’ I said a little bit confused. What the hell is he doing here.

,, What am I missing ?’’ she asked excitedly .

,, He visited my mother, he’s her boss, or maybe her new lover’’ I said and the only thing I could think of was HOLY SHIT.

,,Hey’’ he was suddenly standing in front of us, and not only was Jiso shocked, I was too.

,, Hello’’ I said a little lost, that he even approached me.

,, So, here’s where you are hiding ?’’ he said with a small smile formed on his face.

,, She’s not hiding, she’s celebrating her birthday’’ Jiso said placing her arm over me and kissing my cheek. Hoseok was a little bit in shock, maybe because of what happened earlier.

,, Where are my manners, happy birthday ‘’ he said as he took my hand in his. I could totally say that he was extremely curious, but too kind to ask about my mother and what happened earlier. But after all, I don’t know what she told him. Jiso was already getting bored and started giving me small signals that we should go back.

When we stood up, Hoseok asked if he can borrow me for a second and of course Jiso simply agreed and went back to ohers.

,, Come here’’ he said and placed his hand on my lower back, giving me a sign to follow him. We arrived to the table where his friends were. Of course they all looked good and elegant just like he did.

,, What do you want to drink?’’ he asked me. He was so close, I could literally feel his breath on my ear. Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t jump on every man I see, or touches me or tells me something. I don’t jump on every man my mother brings home.

But if you want me to be totally honest, Hoseok was a man I would literally kill for.

I didn’t know him of course, but his appearance was literally killing me. After all, I can freely say that I never met someone handsome as him.

After few moment he ordered for everyone and we all cheered for my birthday.

It was still weird. I mean, if it was someone else who did it, it would be different, but it was my mothers boss, which I only met today.

What was even more weird to me was the fact when he introduced me to his friends, he didn’t say that I’m a daughter of one of his workers.

When the drink was finished I went back to my friends, where Jiso welcomed me excitedly. That girl was drunk as fuck.

,, WHO’S THAT???’’ Lisa screamed on my ear and of course Taehyung also wanted to know everything. He pushed Lisa to the side and placed his arm around me.

,, Wanna know if he likes you? Cause I’m expert in that matter’’ he said loudly pulling my head closer to him.

,, He does, he’s looking at you’’ Tae said drunkenly and giggled. He was always so silly when he gets drunk.

Every time a good song was playing we took a shot, which means every 3 minutes. But nobody can blame us, I mean with songs like Just dance, Umbrella, Say my name, Wannabe and Hit me baby one more time, you just had to kill your self.

,, I love this party’’ Changyun screamed and jumped on me and Juso . ,, And I love you guys’’ he added placing a kiss on our cheeks before drinking another shot.

I could feel that Hoseok was watching sometime and drunk like that, I really loved it.

,, Do you mind if I sleep at Ilhoon’s place?’’ Jiso asked me, drunkenly, like I could forbid her. I always knew that there was something between them. Like, no one could suspect that they are probably fucking around, but those small looks and signs they were giving each other.

Well of course Jiso told me before, she’ll more likely die then hold that to herself. Even when she sneezes more then one time, I’m the first person to find out.

It was around 3:30 AM when I decided to go home. Lisa was the first one to leave and whne I said that I’m going, Jiso happily said that she’s going too. She probably didn’t want to leave me behind. Of course Taehyung also decided to leave, since he kinda got tired of all the Jumping.

Usually I would either go home with Jiso or Changkyun, since we are living in the same area. But Jiso had other plans and Changkyun wanted to stay longer with his other friends.

Tae wanted to walk me home, but I didn’t want to bother him, so I just told him that I’ll call a taxi. Drunk like that he forgot how hard it is to get a Taxi on nights like this, so he agreed.

It was getting pretty cold and I was literally begging God to finally send mi one.

Well, he did, but some dudes jumped in it, right in front of my nose.

I thought that I’ll fucking die, every time a taxi arrived someone stole it away from me. I really thought it’s the end, but at my surprise a car stopped right in front of me.

I expected the person to be some drunk fucktard, but it wasn’t. It was Hoseok.

,, Need a drive?’’ He asked as he opened the window. Maybe if he wasn’t alone or if it wasn’t so cold and I didn’t wait for so long, maybe then I would act out differently. But on top of all those reasons, I was drunk as fuck.

,, Hop in’’ he said. I was still thinking should I get in the car or not, but just as he said that, I got in the car immediately.

,, You know, it’s dangerous to stand in the dark all alone, especially at the place like this one. There are a lo of insane people around.

,, I was waiting for a taxi’’ I said lazily, enjoying the warmth in his car.

,, Oh, be happy I saw you. You could wait till tomorrow’’ he said concentrated on the road. Damn, the only thing I could clearly think of was how fucking handsome he is.

,, So, how was your day?’’ he asked, probably feeling uncomfortable from all the staring. But I really couldn’t stop looking . Let’s just say, I was drunk.

,, Thanks to m friends it was fine’’ I aid leaning my head on the window.

,, Did you get a lot of presents?’’ he asked me politely. I don’t even know how I managed to reply what they bought me, but after I replied I really passed out. I guess being finally in a warm place after standing outside for more then hour in that cold, it really made me pass out.

I can’t say that I didn’t remember anything after. In fact, I do.

I remember him taking me out of the car, so easily like I was a feather. Usually I’m not a person that is hard to wake up, a freaking fly can wake me up.

But since alcohol got me pretty much, I felt like I’m about to pass out, last time I was drunk like that was on Changkyun’s birthday. Taehyung made me drink more then usual and I remember when I got in bed, the whole fucking room was spinning. Well, that’s how I felt now.

Of ocurse, I had no thoughts in that moment. I was really like I was in coma, but man, he was really gentle. Later, I couldn’t believe that bulldozer like him could hold someone so gently. It was so nice that I literally fall asleep in his arms again.

Next thing I knew, I woke up in a unfamiliar room. In very first moment I was in shock, where the fuck I am and so. But then I recalled what happened-

I wasn’t in my clothes, I had an oversized t-shirt and shorts in which I could fit 3 times.

The blinds were down and my phone wasn’t around, so I wasn’t sure what time it is. Maybe I would brush it of and continue sleeping. I mean those sheets were like heaven, but I felt thirsty as fuck. Well as usual, after alcohol you can drink a whole river.

When I stood up, I realized that the shirt was in false way on me. I lazily turned it around and when I was about to make a step, I decided to take off that shorts. It was too big anyway. And the shirt covered my since it was oversized.

I wasn’t sure where to go, since the apartment was really big. But I saw a TV light coming from a room and decided to go there. It was a really big living room and well, I couldn’t concentrate on how the room really looks, because Hoseok was there. Shirtless.

,, Oh you are awake’’ he said surprised. Switching his position, sitting on the couch.

,, I felt thirsty’’ I said like a lost child. For real, the scene looked like in those movies, when a child asks their mother to tell them they just threw up. But in this case, I was just thirsty and Hoseok wasn’t my father. Even tho I would gladly call him daddy.

,, Here’’ he gave me the bottle , checking me out.

,, I’m sure you had a shorts’ he added confused.

,, Oh, did you do it?’’ I asked, If I wasn’t drunk as fuck I would probably feel mad, but in a situation like that, I could only feel thankful to him for taking care of me and mad on myself for letting something like this happen.

.. Yeah, but I tried not to look’’ he said protecting himself. Cute.

,, Yeah I noticed, the shirt was wrongly on me, Thank you’’ I said thankfully. ,, And I’m so sorry for causing so much trouble to you’’ I apologized.

,, No, it’s alright. It’s better that you fall asleep in my car, then in Taxi’’ he said shaking his head.

For a moment I had, but really had to check him out. He was only in his baggy shorts. I wish I could just jump on him at that moment, but yeah, whatever.

It was weird even to think that he’s my mother’s boss. And because of that it was really weird to see him shirtless like that.

,, I wasn’t sure if I should bring you home. But then I was sure your mom, wouldn’t be so happy to see you like that.’’ He said

,, More likely she wouldn’t be happy to see me with you’’ I corrected him.

,, By the way, I apologize for my behavior you had to see at the dinner’’ I added as I took a sip of the water.

,, No, it’s okay. It’s normal to have a family fight sometimes’’ he said, and smiled a bit.

God, I had to use all my fucking power not to even think about dirty stuff I wanted to do to him. How the fuck did my mother get him.

,, Well, if you are having a thing with my mother I have to tell you, that’s the only way we communicate’’ I said preparing the man for the future.

,, Wait, wait, wait, hold on’’ he cut my sentence, looking extremely confused, his hands in the air giving me a sign to stop talking.

,, Why the hell would I even have something with your mother ? Wait, just what ?’’ he was so confused, maybe more confused then I was.

,, Wait, so you don’t have a thing going on?’’ I asked him confused.

,, No, why would you say such a thing’’ he asked me shocked. So cute.

,, Sorry, usually she brings home guys she only has something with ‘’ I said defending myself.

,, Oh my god, no offense, but no’’ he said, shaking his head.

,, Well never mind, but she probably likes you’’ I thought out loud and at my surprise he just laughed it off.

After the small conversation, I just went back in the beautiful room, with those beautiful sheets, falling asleep the very moment I got in the bed.

In the morning, I woke up around 11 AM. It was the first time I slept so well in a while. Whit in a while, I mean fucking 10 years.

If I had a chance, I would stay in that bed forever.

When I realized that the time for me to change just arrived, I wanted to lie there on the floor and cry till I drown in my own tears.

I wanted to see if Hoseok is home, so I could thank him once more before I leave. He was in kitchen drinking coffee and doing something on the laptop.

,, The sleeping beauty woke up’’ he said smiling at me cutely.

,, Morning’’ I said as I bowed politely.

,, I wanted to thank you one more time. I know I can’t do much, but if you ever need help with anything, please contact me’’ I said and bowed one more time.

,, No need to thank me, it was nice to have someone over. But where are you going? You should at least have a breakfast here. I went to the bakery when you were asleep’’ he said.

Honesty I don’t understand people like him who can stay awake till God knows when and then wake up really early and do stuff.

,, How do you manage to wake up so early and do all this. How many batteries do you have’’ I said surprised. I will never be able to do something like this.

,, Well, you just get used to it’’ he said still smiling. Even if I really wanted to stay, I didn’t feel comfortable.

He didn’t really want to agree with me not having a breakfast, but at the end I had to accept his drive to home, at least.

At home I was really like insane, being honest he couldn’t get out of my mind. Even tho it wasn0t anything special. But since I rarely get any kind of affection from anyone. I’m not used to small things. Even if a guy opens a door for me, I’ll be like wow and think about it for a whole day, having some scenarios in my head.

But that only lasts for a day or even shorter sometimes, because at the end nothing really happens of course. Sometimes I wish I didn’t fall or mistake someone’s kindness for flirting or something.

Silly me.

But hey, I should be happy it doesn’t last long tho.

Few next days I didn’t think about it so much anymore, I didn’t see him at all, so all my thoughts were gone. Of course, the fact that I would kill for him was still there, that shit didn’t change.

After a long ass uni week and sleepless nights writing everything up which literally destroyed me, weekend finally arrived. Well, I never studied or did my representation on time. I always did it in more hectic way, but hey, that’s just me after all.

Thanks God, the spring was finally coming. I couldn’t stand the winter anymore. Like, I always love it when it snows on Christmas, it’s just so magical. But when the Christmas is done, so should be the winter. In my opinion of course.

Since Jiso was out of the town this weekend, I felt sad that I didn’t have anyone to waste my time with. Not like I couldn’t call Lisa and others, but I already knew that they had other plans. Still, that didn’t stop me from going out a little, even if it meant only going to the nearest shop.

Since the weather was really pretty, I decided to wear my Buttoned Pleated pink skirt, well not that ugly to see pink, it was more like moody pastel pink I guess. My black Crew Neck sweater and a black beret.

I didn’t do much around my hair, since it was already straight, but I did put a little bit of makeup before I took everything I needed and left.

It was around 5 PM when I left home and of course my mother wasn’t around. Only God knows what she was doing or where she was. Thinking about how she can see Hoseok every day, or well, more then I can, made me really jealous.

Sick, right?

Since, the weather was really beautiful I decided to take a walk to the shop that wasn’t really near our apartment. I took one cigarette and played Ariana Grande’s new song Bad Idea. Even tho I’m pretty lazy person, I always loved to take a walk. I always wished to have a dog that could accompany me, but yeah, that couldn’t happen.

In the shop, I always get carried away and buy more stuff then I should. Not like they are so expensive, it’s more about that I have to carry them home on my own. Plus every time I see Tulips in store, I have to buy them too. Because, why not, I love them.

But of course, I had trouble carrying it back home and of course the bus was driving ever 30 minutes because it’s weekend, and of course I had to choose the store that wasn’t close at all. Because I’m simply stupid and don’t think at all.

,, Heyy, get in’’ I heard familiar voice. Turning my head around I saw Hoseok in his fancy car. Hahh, so casual, like a hero in a movie. ,, Oh wait, let me help you’’ he said and parked the car on the sidewalk for a second. He took the bags from me and placed them on the backseats.

Of course, once again I could refuse his drive and all, but well, why should I ?

,, How have you been? ‘’ He asked me. He was wearing a black suit and white button up shirt, looking really amazing.

,, I’ve been good, but the uni was a little annoying this week. What about you?’’ I asked politely, trying to avoid looking at him as much as possible.

,, Same, there is always something to work on. How’s your mother ?’’ he asked, looking on the road.

,, I don’t know really’’ I said, hoping that this topic will die.

,, Oh, okay. Well, what are you doing today ? Any plans ?’’ Hoseok asked me, looking at me for a second.

,, Not really, I’ll probably just watch Netflix all day honestly’’ I said playing with the yellow tulips in my hands.

,, Well, if you want you can join me on dinner ? ‘’ he asked, showing no emotions at all.

,, Sure, why not’’ I said looking at him. His yaw line had my attention, so beautiful.

,, But, there will be some of my friends and workers, probably with their girlfriends.’’ Hoseok said, moving his hand nervously around the steering wheel.

,, Well, I don’t really want to interrupt then, it would be weird I guess’’ I said, feeling a little bit disappointed.

,, Oh no, noo. You would actually do me a favor then. My friends made a small bet, how I can’t find and bring a girl for such a short time. You remember them maybe’’ he said, giving me small looks.

,, That’s a little bit weird. But I did tell you to contact me if you need anything, so ‘’ I said thinking about how well he took care of me last week. ,, Do I look alright tho ? ‘’ I added fast, fixing my skirt.

,, Oh, you look incredible, don’t worry’’ he said and smiled a little bit.

On the ride to the restaurant, we were talking about lots of stuff and even about my mother and our relationship. And at my surprise, Hoseok was really on my side, he didn’t support my mother’s behavior at all. He was a weird person. Like, very communicative, but the way he talked, it made me feel like I was overpowered.

When we arrived, Hoseok parked his car, while I was impressed with the whole place.

,, So beautiful’’ I said, still in my own world.

,, Yeah, you have to appreciate the nature, soon it will be the mall’’ he said, making me giggle a little bit.

,, Anyway, what do I have to do ? I probably shouldn’t be too loud or annoying’’ I said casually. Well, I was pretty loud in the car, describing everything and yeah. Hoseok stopped for a second, while a smile was formed on his face.

,, Well, just follow my lead and just be a good girl’’ he said still smiling. Damn, if he said to me to jump from the tallest building, I would do it without thinking twice.

Good girl,

If he only knew what was going thru my head at that moment.. oh

,, What do you exactly mean ? ‘’ I asked him confused.

,, For example, don’t look at other guys, have manners and so’’ he said and smiled again. It took me a good minute to think normal again and give him a proper answer.

,, I can do that’’ I said, realizing that I sounded like a scared kid.

When we went in, I really felt like a child who just got in Disneyland. The restaurant looked amazing, I felt like Queen Elisabeth will walk in any second. It was definitely not my level.

,, I’m not sure about this’’ I said, a little bit scared. I don’t know how many friends or worker were there, but they were probably just as rich and yeah just as him. That’s not where I’m supposed to be.

,, Don’t worry. Just be good and I’ll reward you’’ he said, placing his hand on my lower back and giving me a sign to follow him. Pretty weird how his words had such an effect on me. Every time he said something, I found myself listening to him. Not sure if he had his way around people, I mean he definitely knew a lot, he’s company is one of the biggest companies in the city. Or, I was simply under his spell.

We were the last one to arrive and honestly, I really felt uncomfortable. I felt like they were about to eat me alive there. Hoseok probably noticed, so he introduced me to everyone. He pulled one chair out for me to sit and he sat beside me.

Being honest, I felt really bored. All of them were probably older then me. After all, they already knew each other, so I was an outsiter. But what really surprised me, they didn’t look so formal as Hoseok did. At least not all of them.

Hoseok ordered some expensive steak with I don’t even know what, while I decided to order just some pasta. I felt uncomfortable even looking at those prices. Horrible.

,, Wanna drink some wine ?’’ He asked me and of course, when did I ever say no to wine ? Well, and I was kinda curious how does an expensive wine even tastes like, probably like money.

After some time, some girls or wifes of those people started talking with me. I was thankful they didn’t ask me what my job is or anything like that, but I’m sure they didn’t really dare to ask. They were simply polite and talking about random stuff.

,, Do you feel comfortable now ? ‘’ Hoseok asked me. He was really close, I could feel his breath. I nodded my head and smiled at him. All he did was smile at me and then took his glass of wine, giving me a sign for a toast.

The wine was really good, I was actually correct. It indeed tasted like money.

Since I didn’t want to embarrass him, I was eating really slowly and with few breaks. Well, I was looking how others are eating, I tried to copy them of course.

But, as I took one bite, I was literally a second away from choking. Not because I didn’t know how to eat, or because it was too hot or anything. It was because Hoseok’s hand was all of sudden on my lap.

I wasn’t sure what was going on. Maybe he did it accidentally if that was even possible. If we weren’t in a public place, I would pretty much like it, his hand on my lap, perfect. But I didn’t even know how to react.

At first, he didn’t move his hand at all. He was simply talking with his friends or what ever, but his hand remained on my lap. At some point, he started moving his hand up and down, literally rubbing my thigh gently. I didn’t know what to do at all, I was afraid that I could react wrongly.

,, Is there something wrong ?’’ Hoseok asked me. I just looked down where his hand was, but all his did was smirk a little.

,, Just be good’’ he whispered, moving his finger in circles.

He didn’t even give me a chance to react and his hand was already doing something else, squeezing my thigh. I tried to keep calm as possible. At that point I couldn’t even talk with anyone. All I did was kept quiet and played with my food. Until I felt his hand really near my private parts. Slowly playing around.

I only hoped that no one noticed. But after all, I was covered with the tablecloth and the decoration. So his hand was really covered. Well, he wasn’t that crazy to do anything like that knowing anyone can see. He has a reputation to keep.

When his hand found it’s way under my skirt, I almost gasped. He didn’t waste any time, he started rubbing my clothed clit, while he calmly talked with his friends about the work.

I couldn’t believe that I actually didn’t try anything to stop him. But, well I did say clearly that I would kill for him. That wasn’t a joke.

,, You are already wet’’ he whispered, but of course, he didn’t get an answer from me.

,, Spread your legs a little ‘’ he ordered, but did it on his own, not willing to wait at all. He continued to talk as he waved his hand under my underwear and pressed a finger right over my clit, trailing it up.

,, Are you alright ?’’ the woman asked me and honestly at that moment I totally forgot her name, well fuck it, it was the last thing I could think about. The best I could return was a smile and a small nod.

Eating and chat continued as per usual. But meanwhile his finger rubbed up and down my clit. One of Hoseok’s fingers slowly pushed into me and I had to pretend to be blowing my nose so that they didn’t see the look on my fucking face.

Well, not giving a flying fuck Hoseok simply pushed another finger, slowly moving them in and out of me, literally hitting my g-spot. His moves were sharp and fast, and I was surprised that no one actually noticed. Or at least I thought so. I didn’t know where to look or what to do, all I wanted to do is fucking cum and honestly I was really close.

But suddenly, he stopped and all I felt was emptiness down there.

Hoseok at my surprise apologized, saying everyone that I’m not feeling well and that we are leaving. His hand was once again on my lower back, but I didn’t mind that. I liked it how simply one touch can be as a sign how he’s in lead.

He didn’t say a word at all, all he did was opened the door for me and going around to the drivers seat. Without any word he just turned on the car and drove away.

I didn’t know what was going on, well, just few minutes ago he was fingering the fuck out of me under a table, in a fucking public place and then another minute he’s all quiet acting as nothing happened.

It was extremely weird and it was fucking driving me crazy. Not knowing what was in his head was making me go insane.

When we arrived, he parked his car in front of the house. He turned it off and turned his face to me. I wasn’t sure what did he want, what’s going on. But all this silence was pretty much uncomfortable, even more then that whole dinner.

,, I guess this is it’’ I said as I nodded my head. He didn’t reply, he also nodded his head as he leaned it on his hand.

,, Well, anyway, thank you for treating me. It was really tasty’’ I said and not waiting for his reply I just got out of his car and made my way to the house door. And just as I was about to unlock the door, I felt a hand grabbing my arm and pushing me back.

I couldn’t really choose or protest, his hold was way too strong and just in second we were standing in front of his car. Again.

And again no words, but he did look pretty upset.

Then suddenly, his hands were on my cheeks and he pulled me closer and kissed me. I didn’t know if I expected something like this to happen or not. But after all, I did kiss him back.

Hoseok opened the back door without breaking the kiss. He pushed with one hand the stuff I bought and I totally forgot about, and then he pushed me inside and hovered over me.

,, Is this all about the bet ?’’ I asked breathless.

,, Which bet? There is no bet, I just wanted to show you around me. My property.’’ He said, his eyes being a shade darker then usual. Or I just imagined it.

I didn’t reply, all I could do is kiss him and place my hand around his neck. He was all over me, kissing me back, then kissing my neck, pulling my shirt and my skirt up.

,, God, I can’t wait to have you’’ he said, leaving sloppy kisses over my neck. ,, But let us finish what we started’’ he said as he pulled my skirt totally up and pulled my panties to the side, pushing two fingers inside me immediately.

He didn’t do any vanilla shit, he was fingering me like there was no tomorrow and this time I didn’t have to hold back at all. I was a freaking moaning mess and I didn’t give a shit if my whole neighborhood will hear me.

He didn’t have to rub my clit or anything because I was already all wet. He started curving his fingers making me moan even louder. I guess he liked me loud now, since he added the third finger and started to fingerfuck me in a incredible speed.

Very short after I came all over his fingers, which made him pull them out as I laid there in his car panting heavily.

,, My turn’’ I said and before I could even try to get up, he held me down not allowing me to move.

,, No babe, thinking about your lips around my cock is driving me crazy. But I want to fuck you first. I’ve been waiting for this since I first saw you’’ he said as he placed a kiss on my lips.

,, Let’s go inside’’ he said as he opened the door of his car. I was actually really confused.

,, But my mother is home’’ I protested, knowing 1000% that she’s home, Probably asleep. After all I never brought anyone home. And the first person shouldn’t really be her boss, she definitely had crush on .

Or maybe,

Well, she wasn’t really a nice mother

In fact she was far from it.

,, So what ? That’s even more excited’’ he said pushing me out of the car and kissing me all the time.

Oh fuck it.

We just made our way inside. Even while walking, Hoseok couldn’t stop kissing me. The very first moment we got inside, Hoseok pushed me against the door and pulled me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and I could feel Hoseok’s hard on clearly.

,, I will fucking ruin you’’ He whispered, grabbing my ass and squeezing it hard. He obviously remembered where my room is, since he didn’t have to ask me for the directions.

When he opened the door, he immediately pushed my shirt over my head and tossed somewhere in my room. I didn’t like unfairness so I had to take off his shirt. It took me a bit longer, since it was button up shirt, but still I did give my best. I couldn’t wait to see those abs again.

Even tho I was trying to take of his clothes nicely, he didn’t. he simply ripped my skirt, leaving me only in my underwear.

,, Hey, that was my favorite skirt’’ I said, pulling his pants down, together with his boxers and holy crap, the first thing that got thru my mind was if this will even fit ????

,, I will buy you a new one, I’ll buy you anything you want ahh-‘’ Hoseok said, but I cut him of, giving him one big lick. He grabbed my head and without any word he started fucking my face and since I didn’t have so much experience, I started choking on his dick, saliva dripping down my chest.

That didn’t last long tho, since he pulled me up and pushed me on my bed. I closed my eyes, picturing how amazing it’s going to feel to be filled up with his large member. As he got over me, he started pumping up and down and rubbing his dick over my clit. He pulled me once again up and placed me on his lap, offering me to ride him.

He didn’t have to say anything else, I just positioned my self, his hands on my hips and he slowly started sinking me down onto his dick. It was a feeling I will never fucking forget.

First few seconds, both of us had to get used to it. He leaned his head back on the wall as he breathed heavily. Since I couldn’t wait any longer, placed my hands on his wide shoulders and slowly started moving up and down. I shifted my hips around in circular motions while he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

Now even the fact that he was my mother’s boss didn’t bother me. And the fact that she probably fall asleep thinking about him didn’t bother me either. If I was all the time on my own, then I had to choose and do what I want.

Since my thoughts made me mad, I started moving my hips even faster and of course Hoseok accepted that well. Hoseok was meeting my thrusts. Every time I was about to slide down he would move his hips up, hitting me hard and when he started to hit my g-spot I fucking lost it. I couldn’t help it, I had to moan, but then he did shut me up, pressing his lips against mine.

I closed my eyes, not being able even to move myself. But he gladly did the whole job. Thinking about how we will probably do this more oft also drove me insane. There was some sick thrill of a sexual rendezvous where we could get caught.

,, Oh God, Hoseok.. Fuck.. ‘’ I squeezed my eyes shut tight and he pulled me closer to him so that his lips could attach to my nipple, sucking it lightly.

My back was already arching off, gripping on his arms, shoulders, anything. I couldn’t hold it anymore as I let myself go as I came all over his dick.

He didn’t stop tho, he helped me with my orgasm and honestly. I never had a longer one, it was so damn good. I wished it lasted forever.

But even tho I had my orgasm, Hoseok was far away from his. He turned me around and entered me once again, but this time more aggressively.

He placed his one hand around my throat and started fucking me without any mercy. Not like I needed it. It felt so good.

My muscles gripped his cock tightly as he pushed himself into me deeper and harder. I placed my hand over his one, giving him a small sign that I need air. Of course he immediately left my throat and his hands were on the edges of my bed now.

His moves were so fast and rough that I had to bite his shoulder to keep myself quiet. He kept driving his cock in and out of my pussy, hitting my G-spot once again. Never in my life happened to me, that miracle to cum twice. But here he was, making it all true.

,, Ahh fuck’’ I cried. I nibbled against his neck, smelling his scent, wanting him all over me. Kissing his neck I closed my eyes and tried not to be loud. But I’m sure that we were already too loud. He was fucking me so hard that the bed was literally about to break.

I wrapped my legs around him and my arms around his beck, probably leaving some marks, I could feel his precum dripping in my hole. My walls clenched on his cock tightly again and my muscles tried in vain to hold on to the pounding shaft . I could feel his cock tightened up and contracted hard, sending the vibration in my wet hole. After few deep and hard moves, both of us came hard.

Hoseok collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily as his dick was still twitching inside me. He took it out and lied down beside me breathing in my neck.

,, Are you on pills ? ‘’ Hoseok asked me quietly. I looked at him and just slowly shook my head.

,, I’ll get you the best one. From tomorrow you’ll use them.’’ He said and kissed me, pulling me closer to him.

He stood up and wore his boxers. I tried to stand up but the pain between my legs didn’t allow me. So Hoseok had to find me my oversized White shirt and my penties.

Then at my surprise he just got back in the bed and covered us both with my covers.

,, Are you staying ?’’ I asked him confused

,, Yes, is there a problem ?’’ he asked, pulling me closer to him.

,, Well, my mom ? ‘’ I said still confused.

,, Oh don’t worry about that, your mom is the last thing you should worry about’’ he said, covering my back better.

And with his words, I did feel better immediately. After that, all that mattered to me was the comfort of the covers and his strong arms around me.

hope you enjoyed it

Sorry for all the mistakes and typos, I’ll correct them sometimes in future haha

379 notes · View notes

hollenka99 · 5 years

Text

Peer Pressure

Summary: Jack had pushed and pushed. He'd chipped at Sean's mind until he cracked.

Warnings: Like with The Friend, there’s a whole bunch of unhealthy/toxic friendship and resentment. Plus Chase’s suicide is referenced.

Sean's problems begin when Angus gets worse. Jack's always had a big mouth. He tends to speak before he truly thinks things through. Sean's technically to blame for that. However, it hasn't been much of an issue until now. The first time Jack brings it up, he hates to reject him. The painfully dejected look in his best friend's eyes breaks his heart. He wants to help, he really does. He just can't. Not long after, he spends an hour or two looking for a game with an open world. Perhaps he could put on an Australian accent for the anniversary of the character's first appearance. Nothing comes up. Life gets in the way. Sean forgets about the search for a while. Jack never allows him to forget for too long. What starts as "I'm worried about Angus" soon morphs into "Angus only called me Jake once today". The longer it goes on, the more desperate Jack gets. And angrier. Sean has never seen such frustrated fury in his friend. He wishes he never had to. He's not sure when exactly their friendship takes a turn for the worst. It happens after he dyes his hair green, that's all he knows. Sean is excited to dress up as a superhero and Jack is just as pleased to make a new friend. Jackie as a character is expected. His age though? Not so much. Sean never intended for him to be sixteen years old. It causes conversations about school and whether the boy would need an education in the first place. Sean doesn't necessarily see the point. Jackie was currently the only minor in their world. Even if he created a character with children at a later date, the kids would probably be the wrong age group to attend school with Jackie. If it was that important to Jack to see the young superhero have an education, he would have to do it himself. Being home-schooled would also allow Jackie to do his job. 'His name is Marvin.' Jack says a couple days after the magic set video. Sean can't say he was expecting this. Although, he probably should have. It had just been a dumb video. The mask was cheap, something to use once and forget about until you throw it away in a big spring clean. The magic set was the same, only with extra smaller parts. Nothing was meant to come from it. He hadn't even given himself a name. It was just 'Jack the Magnificent'. Where the hell did 'Marvin' come from? "This better not happen again." Jack demands. "I don't want another Angus. God knows you're not going to help." Oh please, would he shut up about Angus already. How many times did he have to tell Jack it wasn't possible before that information got through his thick skull? He's tried. Slightly out of spite, Sean prints out all records he's kept of his research efforts and hand delivers them to the egos' home. Whoop-de-do, it triggers another argument. The Skype call to Signe is long. He thinks he can move on. Oops, haha, I didn't mean to create you but I still want to be on good terms with you. No, of course he can't get on with his life. Jackie has to get himself gravely injured. The demands come from two this time. For once, he's happy to co-operate. The doctor character is fun to play. Screw Jack with his questions about the accent and backstory. It's his channel anyway. If he wants to play a character a certain way, he will do just that. In the case of Dr Schneeplestein, he is an eccentric doctor who probably should have his license checked on and a father whose children were the reward in marital blackmail. The best part is that there are a surplus of games revolving around hospital procedures. See, he could think things through. So there. Not fully satisfied, Jack begins to bargain for a tweaked home life on Schneeplestein's behalf. The doctor suddenly has trust issues regarding his wife instead of her being a cheating, manipulative woman. In the compromise, Sean is also made to increase Schneeplestein's medical competence. When Sean points out the whole joke was that the doctor has dubious qualifications, Jack reminds him he isn't the doctor they'd requested. He guesses that's true. He doesn't want all this to become truly canon yet. That's why he is pleasantly surprised to find videos that are uploaded privately still work to develop an ego. Perfect. Until it isn't. Jack comes complaining about the confliction in 'Henrik' caused by the subscribers still believing the old characterisation. He asks if the egos were a joke to Sean. If anything is a joke, it's their relationship half the time. There are times where he can't think straight thanks to the stress Jack dumps on him. He wishes the guy would shut up for once. Yet, somehow, Sean can't bring himself to change his character. He could, theoretically it would be so easy, but he can't. For the hell of it, he throws in a little extra. They can't die. Or, to be more specific, they can't die for long. Jackie gets stabbed and bleeds out? Easy, just deal with the wound and he should wake up after a while. What this means for Peter, who knows? Sean is thankful when the accountant isn't granted life. That's one less person to keep happy. Like seemingly everything ego-related he does, it backfires. Within a year, this fail safe will have caused more suffering than hope. Sean isn't to know. However, he convinces himself he's done the right thing for once. He sure as hell knows how much trouble it's going to cause him if they don't believe that too. He makes an irreversible mistake in the October of 2016. He gets so caught up in the teasing and build up that he doesn't contemplate how this will affect everyone. Sure, to him it's a bit of red paint. But to Jack? He doesn't want to imagine the scene Jackie discovers. God, he can't believe he's been so thoughtless. Resurrecting the dead is exhausting, he finds. He postpones visiting Jack for a day before realising his avoidance is likely making matters worse. The dread cumulates to the point he swears he will be sick if he doesn't actively focus on his breathing. The loophole he made in September might have ensured nobody died permanently but it never mentioned scars. It's not visible behind the bandages but he knows it's there. Jack is pissed off. Rightfully so. Matters worsen even more after Jackie vanishes while attempting to get away from their fighting. It's just another thing that's ruined the egos' perception of him. If he thought the hill Jack was ready to die on was Angus, he's got another thing coming. There's only so much he can take before he has to force apathy for the sake of his sanity. He understands he can't control Antisepticeye. Once this situation is dealt with, he vows, the demon will never be used on his channel again. The subscribers' love for the character will have to ignored. It's too risky to play Anti again. He puts the red suit on again. In the short video, only a minute or so in length, Jackie sprints through poorly lit corridors to the exit. Sean acts scared and looks behind him frequently as he runs. It is uploaded privately. His community didn't need to know anything about this. He hopes with everything he's got that it works. Nothing. For days, for weeks, for months. Sean doesn't bother letting the egos know what he'd tried to do. It's guaranteed Jack and Marvin would tell him to try harder. He has no idea what that means in this context. Their lack of respect causes him to give up all efforts to have a good relationship with them. Jack still comes over every now and again. Their birthday goes far better than he'd hoped. Plus, Marvin appears to be coming into his own magic-wise. Sean doesn't like what Jack is implying when he mentions he's stopped learning German. At least he appreciates the video he made before Christmas with Henrik. In an emotional slump, he buys a bunch of Lyons boxes and mini chocolate eggs. It's just a parody of Dude Perfect from someone with zero accuracy. Then he does the stupid thing and creates life again. Fuck it, his wife hates him and he may never see his kids again. Chase Brody's depression causes him to pretend to shoot himself before the end card plays. When Jack calls him and demands to know what the hell he was thinking, Sean has no answer. Afterwards, the ego doesn't provide his creator with any updates. Insisting he has the right to talk to Chase only makes him more hated. Despite having never met before, Chase already resents him. The next time an ego is intentionally created, Sean's going to be there to intercept them. They're not going to enter that home and have their opinion of him influenced by people who wished he wasn't in their lives. The next new guy would be given a fair chance to see Sean for what he was. A massive screw up when it came to the ability he's unsure how to master. In no way is he some villain. August is around the corner when Jack asks to visit. The two of them seem to be on the same page that day. Sean is more than happy to hang out and cheer him up. Believing Jack would be empathetic, he begins a conversation about how the YouTube algorithm was bothering him. Over three years of working as a duo on the Jacksepticeye channel meant Jack should understand where he was coming from. But, of course, his friend makes it all about himself and his own problems. Why wouldn't he? It's what he usually does. They argue because apparently that's the only way they communicate with each other nowadays. Jack sure knows how to pack a punch. Being friends with him shouldn't be such a struggle. Sean snaps. The emotional fatigue of trying to keep up with the algorithm and all this fighting causes him to make one of the worst decisions he'd ever go through with. If Jack wants him to be the bad guy, fine. Sean would be the bad guy. Just this once, he'd actually be the asshole. "You want to sleep, I'll let you sleep." He threatens when Jack begins walking off mid-argument. "Bring back Jackie. He's been missing for months. Do something!" Jack flings viciously back seconds before he marches out the door. He can tell Signe regrets asking him how the gaming session went. He dresses as Schneeplestein as soon as he finalises his plan, pretending he aims to save a version of himself in Bio Inc Redemption. He loses. Oops. He acts as he feels the real Schneeplestein would, desperate not to watch another patient die. He sends the video to Robin for editing. The final uploaded product is nowhere near what he'd recorded. His audience are all talking about Anti. They were praising him for his acting and Robin for his editing. But... he never included Anti. Any recollection of filming the final scene was non-existent. And the parts with Henrik getting possessed weren't him either. The more he thinks about it, the further the terror sets in. Jack had pushed and pushed. He'd chipped at Sean's mind until he cracked. It had only meant to end with Jack slipping into a coma. Just a chance for Sean to focus on his own problems for once. He would have gotten Henrik to wake his patient up when Sean was ready. God, he just wanted peace for a change. It was never meant to happen like this. Marvin is deaf in his rage. Chase is equally distraught. They forbid Sean from entering their home. Henrik is missing and Jack is unresponsive. What had he done?

#writersofjack #creator au #my writing #morally ambiguous sean mcloughlin #jacksepticeye #unhealthy relationship #unhealthy friendship #toxic friendship #jacksepticeye egos #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #chase brody

4 notes · View notes

izupie · 6 years

Text

IzuOcha Request 2 - ‘Beep Beep Beep’

Requested by @darkprincess238 ! - "The guy living below me has a really loud alarm clock that always wakes me up at the crack of dawn."

((I had fun with these beans again - thanks for your cute request - hope you like it!))

(Read on AO3)

------------------------

Ochako groaned loudly and yanked her bed quilt up over her head.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

It was that alarm. Again. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to cling onto the last hazy wisps of sleep that were rapidly clearing from her mind, while the alarm from the floor below pierced her eardrums.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Ochako reached out of the cocoon of duvet she’d made to snatch her pillow and slam that over her ears too. As if it wasn’t bad enough that whoever lived in the room directly below hers had an obnoxiously loud alarm clock (that she swore must be set to maximum volume), but they would also leave it to beep for just long enough that she would be fully awake and unable to fall asleep again afterward.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The beeping finally ceased and Ochako let out a relieved sigh, though her relief was short lived at the realisation that she was now, once more, totally awake at- (she peeked out of the duvet at her own alarm clock and groaned again at the tiny blue numbers glowing in the pre-dawn darkness) -five o’clock in the morning.

Far, far too early considering she had work at eleven, and she’d got caught up chatting on Discord until two a.m. again. Which gave her a horrifying grand total of three hours sleep.

Ochako lay on her back and glared at the ceiling of her apartment, wondering if she should just get up and have some breakfast, or whether she should attempt the futile act of trying to fall back to sleep again. She envied people who could nap and sleep heavily, since she was a terribly light sleeper, and has always been jealous of her friends at college who could have naps between lectures, or before they went on a night out, while she would just have to suffer through the inevitable sleep deprivation. She smiled at the memory of Momo falling asleep at a house party once, and everyone piling their coats on top of her and putting a pillow under her head.

With a sigh Ochako flung back the bed quilt and swung her legs over the side of the bed, took a gulp of water from the glass on her bedside table, and rubbed her tired stinging eyes. She didn’t even know who lived in the apartment below hers. She kind of wished she was friendly with any of her neighbours, because then she could have asked them about it, but she’d only very recently moved in, so she hadn’t really had chance to get to know anyone yet. She could only imagine that the other residents in the vicinity were just very used to it? Or that they were all heavy sleepers and it didn’t wake up anyone else but her. Maybe it bothered everybody, but no one could bring themselves to tackle the alarm owner about it...

She considered this last option carefully.

So really.... She could be doing everyone else a favour by getting the early morning wake up call to stop, right?

Ochako glanced over at her own alarm clock again. Only about ten minutes had passed. Nobody could get ready to leave in just ten minutes from waking up, surely. If she was quick, she might be able to go down a floor and knock on their door, just to explain that if they must get up that early (afterall, she reasoned, she didn’t know what they did for a job) that if they could just turn the volume down, or not leave it to beep for so long, that would be fine.

Totally reasonable.

Ochako drew her eyebrows together and took in a quick sharp breath, gripping her hands in front of her like she was ready for a fight. Let’s do it.

Not really considering her state of dress; still in her pink sleeping shorts and a grey tank top that had the words ‘Shine Like The Stars’ printed in glittery pink lettering on it, Ochako grabbed her keys, slipped on her comfy old sandals and swept out of her apartment. As she was trotting down the staircase she realised she hadn’t even brushed any of the tangles out of her bed-head hair, as her short bob style tended to get into a mess while she slept, so she quickly ran a hand through the front longer bangs and shook her head to try and get it looking at least a little bit presentable and bouncy. (She didn’t really imagine she’d made much of a difference.)

Ochako made her way into the correct corridor and walked down the length of doors, one hand gripping her chin in thought, trying to imagine her own corridor above and how many rooms down she was.

When she found the right one she hesitated in front of it, feeling her nerve fading, but it suddenly flung open and Ochako squeaked in surprise, instinctively jumping backwards. Her foot slipped out of one of her sandals in her haste and she jerked violently. Her other foot pitched in the opposite direction to try and correct her balance, but she ended up lurching forwards instead and her ankle twisted painfully. Instead of the face plant to the floor that she was expecting, Ochako opened her tightly clenched eyes to see white fabric and realised she was being held by a strong grip, pressed tightly to the solid chest of a male. She looked up in a surprised daze and she distantly wondered how eyes that green could even be real, and that they matched his messy, wavy green hair.

“Ah-!”

“Uh-!”

He had a scattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose. (It was kind of cute.)

After a brief pause Ochako realised they had both frozen, faces only inches apart, mouths open in silence to let the other speak, with her chest still pressed securely against his and- oh Gods! She wasn’t even wearing a bra!

As if both coming to the same conclusion at the same time they sprang apart, Ochako blushing furiously and folding her arms over her chest, thanks to her thin pyjama tank top not leaving much to the imagination, and she winced and hissed with pain from her twisted ankle.

“S-S-Sorry about that! - I mean- not sorry that I caught you obviously, but- you know...” The mystery guy rushed on, a bright blush staining the skin under his freckles as he snapped his attention to the ceiling. He must have caught the sharp hiss she couldn’t contain as she winced, because he looked back down with a concerned expression. “Oh, a-are you okay? Are you hurt?” He asked softly.

He had a kind, expressive face, though there was something about his eyes that made her believe he was stronger than he seemed.

Ochako waved her hands in front of her frantically, his kindness making her blush even harder and momentarily forget why she had her arms crossed, “No, no, don’t worry, just a little twisted ankle.” She explained, trying to sound positive instead of just intensely flustered.

She took a moment to notice that he was wearing a closely fitting white t-shirt (with the word ‘shirt’ printed across his broad chest), trendy black shorts, and striking, vivid red high-top sneakers that her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to. Meanwhile she became intensely aware that she was in fact still wearing her pyjamas; her thin tank top, very short shorts, her favourite pair of old well-worn sandals, and she still had severe bed-head... and she’d been caught loitering in his corridor at five in the morning.

At this point Ochako very much wanted the ground to open up beneath her.

“Th-Thanks for catching me!” She blurted out, remembering her manners. “Can’t believe I tripped over like that.” She tried to laugh through her embarrassment and slammed her arms over her chest again.

Izuku’s eyes deliberately flicked away from her again, sensing her embarrassment, his blush still staining the skin across his nose. “N-No problem - I shouldn’t have flung open my door like that, really.” He fidgeted. “So, um, did you need me for something?”

Oh, right, she’d been right outside his door. Think, think, think. After only three hours sleep her brain was completely blank on how she could explain this one away. The truth would probably be for the best, she thought, trying to reach for the fire that had sent her there in the first place - he was right there, so she should just tell him about his dumb alarm clock, even if he seemed totally sweet and friendly...

While she battled with her inner thoughts, he bent down and picked up her sandal (of course she still only had one shoe on, she realised, horrified) and offered it to her. But when she stepped forward to take it back, stuttering another highly embarrassed thank you, she cringed again at the shooting pain from her ankle.

He frowned in concern. “It looks like that might be nasty. I’m so sorry I made you jump...”

He was so concerned and full of misplaced guilt that he didn’t seem to have considered that it was her fault for being right outside of his door at five in the morning in the first place.

“Here, let me help,” he continued, “I’m a paramedic, so I can have a look and make it feel better in no time, I promise.”

He smiled shyly, then waved his hands in front of his face in a fluster. “O-Oh I should introduce myself before offering to take you into my apartment- not that I mean it like that- that sounds creepy. I know it’s a bit weird to ask you to come inside since we don’t know each other...” He rambled, rubbing the back of his neck, while the blush on his nose and cheeks darkened. He took a breath and tried again, “My name’s Izuku Midoriya, I work at the UA Hospital in the city.”

Ochako couldn’t help but smile back, amused by his earnest and awkward offer. She tried to ignore the odd fluttering feeling in her chest. “I’m Ochako Uraraka, nice to meet you. I’m... not usually such a mess,” she chuckled self-consciously, folding her arms tighter around her chest, “or, you know, loitering around corridors early in the morning. I actually live in the apartment above yours.”

She pointed to the ceiling and Izuku followed with his eyes.

“I... was wondering about that,” Izuku confessed, looking back down with an apologetic expression, politely referring to the strangeness of the whole situation.

Ochako slammed down the impulse to hide her face and pretend this whole thing wasn’t happening.

“Anyway!” She chirped over enthusiastically. “I should really get going before your neighbours come to see what all the noise is out here.” She laughed a little too loudly, waving the sandal he’d given her in the air. “And they see me wearing my pyjamas and one sandal.”

She was such a coward. He was too nice - she couldn’t tell him about the alarm now! Maybe she could write an anonymous letter and post it under his door while he was out...

Izuku frowned. “Please, just let me put a bit of ice on it at least, so it doesn’t swell. I can check you haven’t really damaged it.”

“No, no, don’t worry, I mean, you were obviously on your way out, and I don’t want to hold you up, and I’m sure I’ll be fine-” She put her sandal back on as she spoke and attempted to back away, but as soon as her twisted ankle bore her weight she gasped.

Izuku shot forward as if to catch her if she fell. His fingers ghosted over the arm she’d put out to steady herself.

Seeing she was standing steadily, he let his arms fall back to his sides. “As a medical professional I’m really advising you not to try and walk on that ankle for a while.” He spoke in a strong voice that left no room for argument, and his eyebrows were crinkled together in concern. His professionalism seemed to completely remove his stuttering and awkwardness. “I can’t make you, but please, I really think I should take a look at it.”

There was a beat of silence while Ochako bit her lip and thought about ways she could get out of putting a stranger to so much trouble, considering she had originally come to scold him, but then Izuku turned around and crouched down slightly, motioning for her to get on his back. A shocked protest instantly formed on her lips as she realised he meant to give her a piggyback ride into his apartment, but it died unsaid as she considered the situation. There really was no way she could even hobble back to her apartment in this much pain. She sighed in defeat and hopped up, arms instantly winding around his neck, and cheeks burning as his hands gripped her bare thighs to stop her from falling.

Ochako had always considered herself to be a little on the chubby side for her height, but he straightened up effortlessly like she weighed nothing at all, and she could feel the solid muscles in his back and the strength in his arms. He was a lot stronger than he looked.

Her thoughts whirled, telling her that this should be really inappropriate, but knowing that he was a paramedic made it slightly more okay - because he was just doing his job, right? Of course, they were still total strangers... that alone made this situation odd. But there was something so earnest and honest about him that she trusted instantly, and she could see how he would make an excellent paramedic. Not that it lessened the racing of her heart or the fire burning in her cheeks. This was the closest she’d ever been to anyone of the opposite sex, and she was unused to the proximity of someone she was clearly attracted to. His broad back was so warm that she had to resist the temptation to lay her head down and close her eyes.

She just really, really wished she’d at least stuck a bra on before leaving her room, she lamented, pressed tight against his back.

Izuku took a few steps towards his apartment and his professional image was offset slightly the deep crimson blush on the tips of his ears, and there was a wobble in his voice that managed to break through his calm exterior as he stammered, “H-Hold on.”

Then he pushed the door open.

Ochako wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, because she should have realised before that the apartment would an exact replica of her own in terms of physical layout, but she was thrown aback to see the same space as hers look so drastically different. While hers was very utilitarian, and contained very few personal touches, his entire apartment was a mass of super heroes; most of the walls were taken up with colourful super hero posters and prints, there were a couple of bookcases stuffed full of comic books, and a huge display cabinet that stood off to one side was filled with rows and rows of figures and collectibles.

“You... really like super heroes.” Ochako observed out loud.

“O-Oh- uh- yeah...”

Izuku crouched down as he reached his kitchen, so that she could climb off and sit on a wooden kitchen chair.

“Not that that’s a bad thing!” She clarified, unwrapping her arms from around his neck, a little reluctantly, and taking a seat. “Super heroes are great!”

Izuku smiled gently, not meeting her eyes, while he brought over another chair to face her.

She pouted.

“You don’t think girls like super heroes?” She accused.

“It’s not that! It’s just... I’ve been teased a lot about it over the years.” His smile turned sad.

“No way!” She fumed. “Who would tease someone about something they’re obviously so passionate about? And I swear everyone is into super heroes these days. It’s hot news! Me and my friend Iida always go and see the new hero releases together at the movies.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, maybe not the newest few...” She admitted. “I’ve got less free time and less disposable cash since I finished college.”

“Relatable,” Izuku agreed with a soft smile, the skin crinkling at the corners of his bright green eyes.

Ochako looked away, her heart racing, and hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

He fetched a bag of peas from his freezer then disappeared out of the kitchen for a moment and returned with a cushion from his living room (that had a Captain America shield printed on it), then placed it on the kitchen chair facing her. Very gently he lifted her twisted ankle and slowly lowered it onto the cushion. He was careful not to jolt her injury, so his fingers were feather light on her skin, but Ochako could feel callouses on his fingers and rough ridges on one of his palms. Once her foot was resting on the cushion she sucked in a sharp breath as the frozen peas were gently laid on top, but it almost instantly soothed the throbbing.

“Sorry,” he apologised.

Ochako shook her head.

“No, no! I’m sorry for all this trouble I’m causing you!”

“No trouble at all,” Izuku said cheerfully.

He crouched down and became so absorbed in examining her ankle that he didn’t notice her curious gaze on his hands; one of them was marked with thick stripes of puckered skin that she hadn’t noticed before, and he put that hand to his chin as he mumbled something too low for her to make out, focused entirely on her ankle. She wondered what the story was about his scars... they looked like they could be from a nasty injury...

“Does it still hurt?” He asked, making her jump a little as he finished mumbling and turned to address her suddenly.

“Oh, it’s a dull ache now, it’s not as bad. Thank you so much. Those are some magical peas!” She enthused.

Ochako tried not to cringe. ‘Those are some magical peas’... Gods, she wished she knew how to flirt like a normal person.

But Izuku laughed and stood up. “Can you take paracetamol? I’ve got some if you want some.”

She cleared her throat a little. “That would be great, thank you.”

He made his way over to a kitchen cupboard and Ochako peered into it as he pulled open the door; there were baskets full of creams, ointments and medication in there, and there were even a couple of bright green first aid boxes. She considered that it wasn’t unusual for a paramedic to have all sorts of medical remedies in his apartment, but it looked like he’d got a whole pharmacy stuffed into the cupboard. Maybe he was prone to injuries? Or he was just very prepared. He pulled out a box of paracetamol and a roll of bandage and then poured her a glass of water from the sink.

She gulped down the paracetamol gratefully and Izuku crouched down by her ankle again, removed the bag of frozen peas, and gently began wrapping the bandage around it, his fingers feather light on her legs while he wrapped. (She might not be wearing a bra, she thought, but at least she’d had her legs waxed recently.)

“This is just to keep the joint supported, but it looks like we stopped it from swelling too much and if your pain is gone already it will be fine, though it might be tender for a day or two though.” His voice was firm and confident and Ochako melted into his reassurance, trusting him with her injury and leaning back in the chair. He really must make an excellent paramedic, and put everyone so at ease...

“I’m surprised you’re not a doctor - you’re really good at this.”

Izuku smiled while he worked.

“Actually, I always wanted to be a paramedic. When I was younger I was always getting into accidents, usually just getting scrapes and stuff, but I was hit in a nasty car accident one day, and it shattered most of my hand and arm.”

Ochako couldn’t help her eyes wondering to his scars.

“The paramedic that came to me that day was the coolest guy I’d ever met. He made it bearable. I was only being brave because I thought it might impress him.” His face softened. “He was my real hero, and I knew I wanted to be that for someone else. Paramedics go to these scenes where the pain is raw, and the help they provide is immediate, for the patients’ health and their state of mind, you know? I wanted to be there for that... and be just like him.”

Ochako saw a fiery passion in his green eyes that almost shocked her in such a gentle face, and she really wanted to tell him how amazing and admirable he was, but she felt choked up, and instead her voice stuck in her throat.

“And done.” Izuku added proudly, standing up.

She tore her gaze away from him and looked down at her ankle, wiggling her toes experimentally. It really had stopped hurting so much now. And she had a good few hours before she had to go to work, so by then she should be almost back to normal. She sighed with relief.

“Ah! Work!” She yelped, bolting forward and making Izuku jump slightly. “I haven’t made you late have I? You must start early to be up at this time.”

“No, no, don’t worry.” He waved his hands. “I actually start my shift at seven, so I’ve got a little while yet, I just like to go for a morning jog and an early work-out.” He explained.

“A five in the morning jog to your work-out...” Ochako mused. “You mean at the gym? But... the nearest twenty-four hour gym is ages away! You jog that far? And then go for a work-out on top of that?”

Izuku smiled, and something playful tugged at its corners. “And then I jog back too.”

“You’re crazy!” She laughed with a wild shake of her head, struggling to even comprehend doing that much before seven a.m.

He covered his face with an arm and groaned as if wounded. “I know! I'm one of those terrible morning people – I’ve always got so much energy when I get up, even though my alarm is set for five every day.”

“That's my version of a nightmare.” She whined, knowing that she was also getting up at five every morning thanks to him anyway, then added, “Don’t tell me you jog to work too?”

“Even I’m not that crazy,” he said with a grin.

Well, at least she knew why she was subjected to that alarm every morning, and how he was so toned and muscular, she thought, peeking up at him and feeling her cheeks heat up at his sweet, genuine smile.

Something warm and fluttery settled in her stomach.

Ochako squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head again a little to try and dispel her thoughts.

“I’m sorry for keeping you from your morning torture then,” she said cheekily. “You’ve got enough time to still get to the gym and come back, right? I should head back upstairs anyway.”

Ochako shifted herself on her chair and sat upright, moving her leg and placing her foot to the floor carefully, though she was pleasantly surprised to feel that it was much better. She stood up slowly, holding her arms out to steady herself like a gymnast, and beamed at Izuku who hovered beside her.

“See? Much better. Thank you so much.”

Izuku’s face bloomed a light red under his freckles and he cleared his throat loudly.

“Y-You’re welcome... but are you sure you don’t want some help back to your apartment? I’ve got time to do that much at least.”

Ochako swatted her hands in his direction playfully. “Don’t be silly! There’s an elevator down the end of the corridor, I’ll just use that instead of the stairs. It’s a short walk, I’ll be fine. You go get your work-out!” She punched the air.

He looked unconvinced but she tried hard to walk to his door without limping too much, to ease his concern.

When they were both in the corridor Ochako suddenly felt a little awkward about what to say. They were still relative strangers after all... Should she wish him a good day or something?

She was saved from having to say anything by Izuku nervously asking, “Um, s-so, would it be okay if I came and checked on you tomorrow? Just to check your ankle is healing well. You’re in number fifteen, right? The apartment above mine?”

Ochako’s blush deepened. “S-Sure. I’ve got a day off tomorrow, so I’m free all day, just knock any time..... Except five a.m.” She added with a laugh, knowing full well that she would be woken up by his alarm clock again then anyway.

#izuocha #thanks for your request!#izuku x ochako #my fanfiction #my hero academia #izuocha fanfiction

145 notes · View notes

arrianna21 · 6 years

Text

~Boundless Love~ Chapter 1

Tutoring sessions with the school’s bad boy is never dull, for either of you. Who knew that opposites do attract? Needless to say, you two actually end up learning more about each other in more ways than one.

badboy!taehyung/disabled!reader | College!au

Word Count: 3,408

Your finger punches in the numbers, graphing calculator displaying the digital equation. One press on the ENTER key reveals the answer as 25. Same result you got on your paper. Problem now completed, you grab your coffee and take a sip from the green straw. Warm brew coats your tongue as you drink, bittersweet liquid traveling down your throat. Lips releasing the partially chewed plastic, you set the cup down.

Students bustle around the campus coffee shop, snatching bags of snacks and ordering drinks before quickly paying, retrieving plastic cups as they rush to class or go to whatever extracurricular activities they may have. The few tables in the room are occupied by people working on homework or taking a break, electronics and papers scattered on the square tops.

Normally you would be studying in your dorm right about now, but since you decided to do tutoring sessions, your little working spot was now at the heart of campus. Looking at the clock, you watch the hands lazily drag across the face.

7:04.

Double checking your papers, you make sure you have the correct worksheets, drumming your nails as you look at the worksheets. This was your first meeting with this particular student and so you decided to bring a little bit of everything, from formula sheets to an array of practice problems, just in case.

A girl two tables down was typing on her laptop, word document displaying an essay, her eyes shifting from the screen to her papers next to the iced tea. One guy was using his backpack as a pillow while he slept on top of the table, the couple at the next table were talking while they shared their drink. Another boy has his nose in a textbook, the binding threatening to collapse as he waited in line behind a group of girls.

When the barista brings the iced coffees out, the trio eagerly swipe their drinks from the counter, walking past you and you hear something about an upcoming sorority event. Returning to observing the tranquil space, one of the girls stops her conversation to greet someone just out in the hall.

“Hey, Tae,” she sings and a chorus of greetings follow from her friends.

“Ladies,” a deep voice answers.

“About time,” you mumble, looking at your phone screen to see the time is now 7:12. Three more minutes and you could have left. Sighing softly, your eyes raise to find a boy sauntering into the small café.

Signature bandana wrapped under his mess of hair, you watch Kim Taehyung stand at the entrance before slowly making his way around the tables. It’s not difficult, despite the tight space since he didn’t have a backpack, or any supplies for that matter. You knew what you were getting into when your boss assigned you a list of students to tutor, one of which was the school’s bad boy and notorious troublemaker.

If you were being honest, you couldn’t really blame the girls for getting all starry-eyed, he was attractive. Yet his constant skipping of class and sometimes complete disregard of school rules was annoying at times. When he wasn’t making special appearances in class he was usually off vandalizing a building or stealing the campus golf carts for a quick joyride. He would have been expelled long ago, if only the college had proof that he and his mischievous friends were the culprits.

Taehyung looks around the room and you shift your gaze once more to your pile of things, fiddling with your pencil. From your peripherals you see him look at each table’s occupant, walking past the sleeping guy and couple. His scuffed converse shoes tap on the linoleum. He briefly slows his pace as he looks at the girl on her computer, who doesn’t pay him any attention. Continuing his aloof stride, you wait for him to come towards the back of room where you are located.

Red sneakers soon stop at your table you slowly lift your head at his approach. “Are you the college algebra tutor?” he asks, white teeth on full display.

“I am,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow before giving a polite smile of your own.

He pulls a chair out from beside you, sitting at your left as he props his head on an elbow. “Cool. I’m Taehyung.” He extends his to you and you blink.

At least he has manners which is always a plus. It takes a second for your brain to send out a command and you lift your arm in return. His hand grasps yours softly, palm heating your skin from the physical contact.

You introduce yourself as well before leaning back in your seat. Picking up the stack of papers, you straighten them and the rectangular sheets align themselves before being set down.

“Nice to meet you, Taehyung. I know this is our first meeting, but next time please try to be on time in the future. If students don’t show within 15 minutes without prior notice, the session will be cancelled.” While you inform him, you grab a pencil and hand it to him.

“Right, sorry. I’ll let you know next time.”

“Do you have a specific section you want to work on today?” you ask, pulling out some more scratch paper from your folder. Scribbling out a heading that reads Practice #1 along with the date, you look up when he doesn’t respond.

“What, we’re not going to go over the syllabus first? It is our first day after all,” he smirks and you have to keep your eyes fixated on him instead of inside your head where they wish to go.

“Sorry, but I didn’t print out a copy. I’ll be sure to have it with me for those who don’t have a basic comprehension of rules, but here’s a brief summary for you. Be on time, ask relevant questions that focus on the material, come prepared,” you stare at him and his lack of things,” and do your work.”

“So show up, ask questions, bring snacks, and pay attention, got it,” is his response.

“Sure,” this time you don’t bother stopping your eye roll, pushing your papers aside so you can open the red textbook to the table of contents. “Which chapter are you having a hard time with?” Angling the book towards him, you let Taehyung glance over it.

Flipping between the two pages, he skims through each description and points to one while his other hand is spinning the pencil with his fingers. Chapter 3: Polynomials. You sift through your papers and find a worksheet with some practice problems, setting it in front of him. “Okay, show me what you can do.”

The dancing pencil freezes. “Damn, you really don’t waste any time starting the torture. Aren’t you gonna teach me first?” Though he’s surprised there’s a faint smirk on his lips.

“I want to see how much you know and then I’ll help.” Your thumb taps on the table as you stare at him. Jutting your head, you motion to the crisp sheet and he sighs but begins writing under the first problem.

He finishes quickly and you check his work. “Not bad. You almost have the right answer except you forgot about this x here,” you tell him, grabbing a red pen and turning the page so you can write on it. “Just move this here, solve for it, and you should get x=3 and x=-3.” Turning on your calculator, you type the equation so you check for the answer. The number 3 is displayed and you return the paper to him. “Now do try with the next one.”

Taehyung scribbles under problem #2, lead squeaking on the sheet and he turns the paper when he’s finished so you can look it over.

Nodding, your nails clack on the calculator as you plug in the numbers and it displays the same answer as his. “Good job. Let’s make things more interesting, try #10.”

“Interesting? Yeah, right.” His short laugh fades when he glances down and spots the complex problem filled with lots of numbers and exponents that go to the sixth power. You purse your lips to hide your satisfaction at his silence. “Okay, I’m starting to see why you’re a tutor now. You like to see us students suffer,” he says and you shrug.

Pinching the sheet of notebook paper, you hand it to him. “Here, you might need this.”

“Thanks,” is his dry remark, sliding the white page closer so he can copy the problem down on the first line. It takes him longer to solve and you watch him bite his lip as he works, brows furrowed in concentration. The yellow pencil scratches, lead painting the white a dark grey while you continue your observation.

Despite him needing help with the material, he didn’t appear to be flustered nor did he pause for more than a few seconds which was fascinating considering the fact that most of your other peers would get stuck after some point. While others would be unsure, Taehyung’s confidence never actually faltered.

You push your calculator towards him when he’s done so he can check his work. Using the pencil’s eraser, he types the buttons and hits ENTER, which the screen then displays a different number than the answer on his paper.

“You’re so close. I think you either misplaced a number or you didn’t factor properly. See if you can find it,” you suggest to him.

Taehyung scans over his work and his eyes light up when he finds the mistake. Erasing the bottom half, he fixes it and gets the same answer that is on the calculator.

“Good job! Do the last two and then we’ll be done for today.”

The last two turn out to be especially tedious and when he gets stuck on the first one, you help him as you explain the problem step by step. Despite the minor hiccup, he remains unfazed, simply watching as you write down the correct method, leaving a few notes on the side in blue ink for him to remember.

“There’s actually lots of ways you can do this, but I find this way to be easier. If you have another option that works for you and you still get the right answer you can do that instead.”

He nods and push the paper towards him so he can work on the last one. Again, you help every now and then, pointing to where he went wrong. “One tip to keep in mind is you can tell how many answers you need to find by looking at the exponents. If the highest power is four, you know that there will be four roots to find.”

Taehyung looks up at you when you say this, eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Huh, that’s good to know,” he replies, returning to the problem so he can continue working. Once he’s done he shows the paper to you and you skim through it.

Sliding your hand across the table, you point to his answers. “Close, but you’re not done yet. The x is still squared so you need to find the square root. Other than that it looks good.”

He divides the 4 and 25, x equaling 2 and 5. “And then they have to be plus and minus, right?”

“That’s right.”

Taehyung boxes in the answers and you nod.

“Great, you’re really getting the hang of it,” you tell him. Checking your phone, you see that it is just after 8:00. “If you want to meet again we can. It can be with me or another student it’s up to you, just call the tutoring center to schedule another appointment.”

Collecting the sheets of paper, you slip them in a pink folder so you know which one is his.

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick with you. I don’t know want to know what the other students are like with their teaching methods,” he chuckles returning your pencil and you take it before putting it with your other writing utensils.

“They’re probably more lenient than me I’m sure. If that’s the case, then you can just text me directly.” Pulling up your contacts, you push your phone to him and he does the same with his, setting it in front of you and you put in your information.

He gives your phone back and grabs his in return, opening his messages as he starts texting somebody. “Well, if you don’t mind my torture methods I guess I’ll just give you some homework for you to practice.”

The boy’s thumbs pause, hovering over the keys when he realizes what you said. “Wait, hold on a second. I thought you were a tutor, not a teacher.” He complains, eyes wide as he stares at you with his mouth partially open.

Ignoring his objection, you flip through the pages and find some problems for chapter 3, grabbing another blank sheet of paper so you can write down a few exercises along with the page number. “I mean; you were concerned about the syllabus so it’s only fair if I stick to protocol.” You give him a pointed look and put the assignment away. “By the way, this is yours to keep,” you add, handing him the striped pink and white folder.

“Gee, thank you. So I guess I’ll be seeing you in two months.” Since he had no bag, Taehyung had no choice but to carry the neon file with him, which was noticeable against his dark clothes.

“That’s fine. Whatever works best with your schedule, just let me know and I’ll check what days I have available.”

Your unfazed reaction at his bluff has his lips poking out in distaste and he grunts. “Fine, I’ll see you in a week.”

Shaking your head in agreement, your fingers grasp the front cover of your textbook as you prepare to close it but he stops you by pulling it towards him. You watch with raised brows, hearing a click.

“Do you not have the textbook?” you ask, eyes narrowing and he looks up to meet your glare with a smile.

“Not yet,” is his response. He shuts the book and it thumps from the force before he pushes it back to you.

Putting your hand on top of the book, you drag it closer and put your other folder that has all your scratch paper next to it. “You need the textbook for the homework and that’s not coming from me.” All the college algebra professors assigned work from the book, some even going further by adding pop quizzes to see who read the chapter.

“I’m not going to support a school that forces people to buy its exclusive textbook that costs that much money,” Taehyung scoffs, not that you blamed him in the slightest.

“Then you might want to find a friend because you won’t find it online,” you suggest and grab your calculator, sliding it up so you can put the cover on.

“Eh, I’ll see what I can do.” He says, his chair scraping on the floor as he stands. “Do you want some help putting your things away?”

You look down and see all your things across the tabletop. “Actually yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he responds, stacking your folders and spiral notebook on top of the textbook before picking them up to put them in your backpack. While he does that, you click your pens shut, tossing them in your pencil bag and zipping it closed, sliding it onto your wrist.

You hear your backpack zip as well so you grab your empty coffee cup and phone. Taehyung walks ahead of you with his new pink folder clutched in his hand. Following after him, you stop to throw your cup away before leaving the café and find him waiting in the library foyer holding the door open for you.

“Thank you,” you say and he hums in response.

As you prepare to leave, you hear him call your name and you turn around to face him.

“Thanks again for the help. I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

“Of course, I don’t mind at all. Yeah, just text me when you want to meet and if you get stuck on any of the problems, call or text me and I can help. It also helps if you go to class.”

Taehyung blinks, “how do you know when I’m in class or not?”

Shrugging, you look away before bringing your gaze back to his questioning stare. “We’re allowed to sit in classes that we tutor so we can stay up to date on the material. I go to your class every now and then, but whenever the professor takes attendance you’re never there.”

He heaves a loud sigh, slowly walking backwards. “Fine, I’ll go to class.” His eyes flicker downwards for a split second. “By the way, I like your shirt. Really suits you,” he adds, lips turning upwards and you have to glance down to remember what you were wearing.

You snort upon reading the printed text.

“So she does smile.”

Raising your head, you roll your eyes, smirk still on your face. “On occasion.”

He cocks his head to the side, “for now,” is all he says before turning around and walking away.

You watch his retreating figure before heading back to your dorm. The distance to your building isn’t far, taking a little less than 10 minutes to get there. When you arrive, you slip under the alcove and grab the lanyard around your neck. Finding the key at the bottom, you pick it up and insert it into the lock, twisting it to the side. Your door opens and you pull out the key before going inside, metal frame shutting behind you a few seconds later.

“Honey, I’m home,” you announce your presence to the room.

“About time,” a voice says and you see your roommate lying on the couch, eating a bag of chips while watching T.V. “How’d it go?” She sits up and holds the bag out to you to which you stick your hand inside.

“Pretty well actually.” You admit, biting into a salty chip. “Taehyung’s a bit cocky, but he’s nice and didn’t give me any problems.”

“That’s good.” She says and you nod, going to the dining table so you can put your pencil bag down, slipping the wristband off. “Are you hungry, Y/N?”

“Starving.”

“Want some of that leftover pizza?” she asks and you hear her grunt as she stands.

“Yes, please,” you sing, turning around to watch her walk to the kitchen.

Your roommate opens the fridge to grab two slices for you and you make your way to the living room bookshelf, reaching for your history book that is resting on one of the lower shelves. As you get close, you bring it towards you and then you try to turn around, only to feel a thump from behind when you hit the wall which causes you to wince.

“Are you banging on the wall again?” Your friend asks, opening the microwave and setting the timer before pressing start.

“No!” you yell in denial.

“Liar,” she hollers back.

Muttering to yourself, you maneuver your way out from the space and retreat to the table, placing your book on top. The microwave beeps a minute later and your roommate sets the plate in front you.

“Thanks, Kara.”

“Uh huh,” she grabs a napkin from the middle of the table and puts it next to you. Looking up at her, you see her smirking at you.

“What?”

“Nothing. I still can’t believe you wore that shirt,” she says through pursed lips in an attempt to hide her smile as she walks away.

“Hey, my SMArtass shirt is great! Apparently Taehyung says it suits me.”

Coming back beside you, she puts your cup of water down next to your plate, white straw sticking out of it. “In more ways than one, that’s for sure.”

Your response is to whack her arm and she sticks her tongue out, lightly kicking the wheels behind you.

“Don’t hit me!”

She scoffs, “I didn’t even hit you, I bumped your chair. That’s payback for the poor wall you put a dent in,” Kara responds before sitting back down on the couch.

“You’re just jealous that I’m stronger than you.”

Your friend barks a laugh, “oh whatever. Shut up and eat your food.”

A/N: It’s finally here! With only a couple of hours to spare, this has been posted on the very last day of August. Honestly, this is another work I’ve been waiting to start on for a year because it wasn’t ready and I still needed to plan some things. So the reason I was waiting for August is because this month is National SMA Awareness month! I’m going to go in further detail about what that is in later chapters, but the short and to the point summary is that a good majority of people with this disease are wheelchair bound. (Like me!) This idea started out when I noticed there wasn’t a lot of disabled stories in K-Pop. The few I did come across were about different disabilities such as, being blind, deaf, or unable to speak, so I decided I would write my own story about someone who relies on using a wheelchair. Surprise! Okay, so this is super duper long, but please leave your feedback and let me know what you think. Thank you again for reading!

#v scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts #v #badboy!taehyung #disabled!reader #Boundless Love

140 notes · View notes

essongz · 5 years

Text

cold in these bones of a man & a child

ft. luke summary. after running into the classmate she tutors, esme begins to suspect that there’s more to his situation than she assumed after seeing unmistakable signs. date. flashback to the summer before the current school year location. the dot, esme’s house tw. abuse

Luke The summer had just barely started and already Luke was in over his head, not that it was too different from a normal day for him at the Baker household, but hockey was just barely getting scared - practices staying a bit scarce at the beginning of the summer. But he hadn’t told his family, and when he’d missed family dinner it hadn’t gone over to well. It was a shock to himself that he was able to get out of the house that night after the beating he’d received once his mother and Becky had gone to sleep. It was what had led Luke to the dot in the late hours of the night, not knowing where else to go. It wasn’t his first time ending up there, but it was vaguely new for him. Sitting on one of the stool his sweatshirt was hanging loose from his body, as he could already feel the bruises forming along his ribcage, and under his left eye. He’d wiped his face the best he could though bits of dried blood still clung along his bottom lip and around his nose. The hood of his sweatshirt pulled around his head as he was trying to hide his face from anyone that might know him. Just happy to be left his silence he’d thanked Eli after he’d handed the coffee over to him, sitting down in front of him as he was pondering where he would go tonight.

Esme Debating with herself, Esme checked he phone one last time, figuring she wouldn't be terribly rude in just getting a drink so near to closing time. The hours in the day had slipped away from her, and even so late in the evening, the night was young in her eyes, figuring a caffeine break wouldn't hurt. It wasn't as if she couldn't sleep in if it kept her up all night. Slipping past the door, she beelined to the counter, greeting Eli before placing the order for her obnoxiously handcrafted iced latte - soy milk, light hazelnut syrup, but no classic and no whip, moving to the side of the counter to await its arrival. She felt a little better about her last minute trip as she noticed the body beside her, glancing over again to get a better look. She almost hadn't recognized Luke as he hunched over her own drink, looking worse for wear. "What the hell happened to you?" She gaped, forgetting decorum in the public space.

Luke Picking up his coffee he was hoping it would at least warm his body up, though the second it had touched his lips it burned, something he could only thank the cut on his lip for. Reluctantly he’d sat his glass back down, not bothering to look around, that was until he heard a familiar voice beside him. Just barely turning to face her, he’d kept his gaze low not wanting to meet with her eyes. “hockey.” The male muttered as he was hoping that she’d believe the lie. “Pretty vicious sport.”

Esme The sight was bad enough from what she could take in simply from his silhouette, but once Luke had opened himself to speak, she got the full effect, her face showing the confusion at what she was faced with. "Clearly..." she accepted, eyes dancing over each new injury. "Was the coach not watching? Shouldn't he have like, called a time out or something? You look - " she paused, not needing to add insult to injury. "I'm sure you know how you look." As the cup was sliding her way, Esme distractedly thanked Eli, ignoring the order for a moment as she invited herself sit in the next chair, still gawking. "Are you aware that you're still bleeding?"

Luke “It’s all part of the game, builds character.” Which was true, though fights at practice hadn’t ever really amounted to anything, and the ‘build character’ was just something that his father would tell him in-between hits. Though it was true, and this had built Luke’s character a lot, not in the best ways — though it had also taught him something about how he would never be. At the last question, Luke had brought his hand to his mouth, dabbing it on the back of his hand to see that she was right. “sorry..” He’d muttered, before he was reaching for a napkin. Truth be told he hadn’t really noticed that he was still bleeding, but assumed it was the drink that broke it back open. “Should stop soon.”

Esme "Right, break a bone and you'll be halfway to a Nobel peace prize," she mocked, never liking the anecdote he offered. She knew it was his hobby, and she wasn't going to try to downplay it, but anything that left him that battered didn't seem a worthwhile time in her book. "You're apologizing for bleeding..?" She clarified, growing more perplexed with each moment. "You're awfully casual about drinking your own blood," she frowned, nodding to the marked mug in front of him, more evidence of the wound around the rim. "You should probably clean it, or put something on it, if it gets infected everyone is going to think you have herpes."

Luke “Apologizing for making you see it.” Luke had quickly answered as he had felt bad for running into someone that he knew, not wanting to her to have to see him like this and he knew it didn’t look good. “I will, just waiting to hear back from Dallas.” Pulling out his phone it was no shock that the other hadn’t texted him back yet as he assumed he was busy with the kid, but Luke also hadn’t planned on going home at all tonight. sitting his phone down on the counter his hand had picked up a few more napkins, wiping at the rim of his glass not wanting anyone else to see it, and definitely not wanting to force Eli to have to deal with it once he left.

Esme "I've seen blood before," she dismissed, seeing no qualm. His answer was odd, Esme finding no correlation between the blood and the teammate, far too oblivious to the situation as a whole. "You're man enough to get your ass handed to you on the ice but you need your boyfriend to play nurse for you?" Her words were fully in jest, still willing to believe his marks were solely from the sport.

Luke “I can clean myself up, need him to leave his door unlocked and couch unattended.” His answer was quick, probably too quick for his own good as his tone had taken a dark turn before he was realizing that Esme wasn’t the person that he had a problem with, and he needed to correct himself. “I just — “ shaking his head he was thinking about his words as his tone was returning to normal. “I just need to crash on his couch tonight, can’t go home is all.” Can’t, don’t want to, physically cannot force himself to go back home tonight? The girl was smart, though he was hoping that she wouldn’t read between the lies.

Esme Taken aback for the first few seconds, it dawned on Esme that she may have crossed a line. Truthfully, she didn't know Luke well enough to be making such touchy jokes, especially when she had no idea what she was treading on, so she accepted the small snap. "Do your parents not like hockey..?" She assumed too innocently, still not smart enough to leave well enough alone. "They're closing soon, what if he doesn't answer?"

Luke At the next question Luke had shaken his head, just happy that was what she’d asked rather than something else, as it could have went an entirely different way. “Forgot to tell them about it tonight.” Which actually was the truth, and he had applauded himself in his head for getting one true statement out finally. “Then I’ll walk around until he does, or I’ll crash on a bench or something. It’s nice out, and I don’t think anyone will mess with me, looking like this.”

Esme "Does Jesus not approve of contact sports?" A mildly facetious question, she honestly didn't know if athleticism was involved in the scripture, and she wouldn't have been too shocked if that were the issue. "That's... weird, and incredibly transient of you," she thought out loud, though the words weren't exactly polite. Debating the offer for a quick few seconds, she knew she wasn't opposed to be in his company, at this point should have been the case, for sure. "I live a couple of streets away, if you don't feel like waiting. I was just going to do some online shopping, but you can help me decide on prints," she smirked, realizing how ridiculous the offer was. "Or study, get a three month head start on the year."

Luke He’d choose to ignore the first question, not wanting to bother with getting into whatever can of worms that really brought up, and right now he just hadn’t felt like debating different passages. Her offer wasn’t something that Luke had expected though he would have also been a fool to turn her down. “Yeah, alright — just until I hear from Dallas.” The male nodded as he was moving to reach for his wallet, pulling out some money to pay for the both of their drinks, as well as a tip as he was handing it over to Eli, apologizing then for the dried blood on the coffee cup. Standing up was a bit of a struggle as he knew that walking wasn’t going to be fun, but something that he could suffer through. “Three month head start, sounds awful — but I might be able to help you pick out prints.” Whatever the hell that actually meant.

Esme Her hands moved to her shoulders, held out in defense at his condition. He didn't need to accept her offer, though she was oddly relieved he did, so she wouldn't press her luck in asking him to stay any longer than he wanted. She hadn't realized what all the money was for until the bill was cashed out, her eyebrows pulling together slightly. "Thank you? You didn't have to do-" she trailed, observing his hardship. Unsure of where else his troubles lied, she offered no assistance, worried she'd only make things worse. "Okay," she accepted simply, following to the door. Kicking herself for arriving on foot, she was at least relieved that the walk was short, the two teens arriving at her doorstep just minutes later. Letting them into the house, she noted the light in the kitchen, her father standing at the counter in plain view. Not wanting a charade, and already knowing he was thinking the worst, Esme instinctively reached back to Luke's wrist, pulling him quickly down the hall, up the stairs, and into the safety of her room.

Luke Luke hadn’t thought twice about paying for her coffee, if she was going to take him home in his state then it was really the least that he could do. He’d offered a simple shrug, small as he was trying not to move too much as he was following her to the door. He hadn’t been the fastest walker, though eventually they’d reached her front door and Luke hadn’t thought that it took too long as they were getting inside. Noting the other male in the house he hadn’t planned on speaking at all, though when she was grabbing his wrist he had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from making a noise, the all too familiar taste of blood returning to his mouth as his arm was being pulled to follow her. He’d managed to get up the stairs and into her room before he was pulling his own arm back, the sleeve of his hoodie being moved to his mouth to wipe away the fresh liquid. Looking around then he hadn’t wanted to sit down, everything that looked too nice, and he had just looked — dirty in comparison.

Esme "I didn't think he'd be up still," she muttered, not bothering to mask the irritation in her voice simply from seeing the elder entity. Releasing him, she closed the door behind them, instantly relieved to be out of her dad's line of vision, proven by a quick exhale. Luke's internal conflict unbeknownst to her, she crossed the room to flop down onto her bed, folding her hands over her stomach to shake off the annoyance of coming home before glancing over to Luke as he lingered. "Are you just going to stand there?"

Luke He’d still been looking around the room when he heard her voice, turning to face the girl before he was able to speak. “Just didn’t want to get anything…dirty.” He finally stated, deciding that was the best word to use in this moment. Walking towards her bed he knew that his sweatshirt wasn’t actually dirty and if he sat on the item that it would be fine. His arms had moved to the bottom hem, slowly pulling it off at the motion of raising his arms had strained him. However what he hadn’t anticipated was his shirt sticking to the hoodie, causing it to raise as well, giving Esme as good show of whatever his torso had looked like in this state. Though just as soon as Luke had felt the air on his body there was an audible ‘shit’ before he was getting the hoodie off and pulling his shirt on. Folding it up to sit down on her bed, moving himself them to sit on top of it, along the edge of her bed, feet on the floor.

Esme "It's a bedroom, not a museum, it'll be fine," she laughed, not directed towards him in ill will. She thought nothing of him shedding a layer until the one beneath it followed through, Esme's eyes going wide. A reflex, she crawled closer to where he was sitting, reaching to lift the shirt again. "That looks really bad," she muttered, more concerned than confused.

Luke At the touch he couldn’t help but to flinch before remembering where he was, and despite not really knowing much about Esme he had felt safe here. And when his shirt was being raised, he’d just moved to lay on his back, her bed molding to him perfectly as he was already comfortable right there. “Yeah, I’m kind of clumsy.” He muttered, not wanting to look at it himself. Luke knew well enough to not bother with looking at the marks that he knew would heal up on their own time, the first night just always being the worst.

Esme She retreated just as quickly as she'd tried to inspect, his reaction scaring her off. She wasn't great with boundaries in the first place, but the lack was more prevalent when it came to shirtless boys in her bed, trouble with the disconnect. When he relaxed, she tried again, more tentatively this time, pulling the fabric high enough to reveal the bruising. "I thought you were really good at skating? She pressed, her words not meant to demean. "I don't... know what to do with bruises. I can do cuts," she offered vaguely.

Luke There was a small cut on his pec, though she hadn’t lifted the shirt high enough, and Luke hadn’t expected her to clean him up at all anyway — it wasn’t her job, and it was that last thing that he’d ever really ask her to do. “I’m good at skating, sometimes you just, mess up.” He put in the best way that he knew how in this moment. “I’ll be fine, not the first time I’ve had a bruise. You don’t have to clean anything up, wouldn’t ask my ‘boyfriend’ to do it, so I wouldn’t ask you to either.” Luke added as he was using her word for Dallas from earlier, a very faint smile playing on his lips.

Esme "I see that," she murmured, greeting each bump and bruise with a frown. Her head tipped as he used her earlier words against her, unamused by the statement. "Not the point, jackass," she droned, noting the tiny glimmer of a smile. Moving into her bathroom for a moment, she dug through the drawers to find the bandage she knew was somewhere, abandoned after dance class someday, she brought it back to the bed. Forgoing the concept of personal space, Esme hovered over him, pulling it around to try to at the very least cover the afflicted area. Stretching it to his rib cage, the strange comparison reared itself; the hand outstretched to hold the bandage in place had an ominous similarity to the mark along his ribs, her eyes scanning between his skin and her own fingers. "Did someone grab you at practice?"

Luke Luke was far more comfortable in the unfamiliar bed than he should have been as he was molded against the mattress. So once her felt her getting off the bed he couldn’t stop his eyes from slipping shut, just getting comfortable before he’d felt her once again, but this time on top of him. A soft groan had fallen from his lips, though he couldn’t complaining as he knew that she was helping him right now. When the question had registered, his eyes had shot open — looking up at the girl as his mind was racing. “N—no, I just fell. That guard rail can be nasty..” He trailed off, mind going back to picture the rink and the guard rail that lined the ice, it wasn’t blunt enough to do any real damage, and definitely not look like something else, but he was also hoping that she hadn’t spent enough time on the ice to know that.

Esme "No, this is definitely a handprint, look," she implored, holding her hand out just above the mark embedded into his skin. There was no way her mind was playing tricks on her now, each line too distinct to be anything abstract. She knew hockey could get violent, but she couldn't imagine it needing to get this personal, her eyebrow-raising as her mind was made up.

Luke He should have known that the matter wouldn’t have gotten dropped just like the rest had, though he had been kind of hopeful for it. Still, she was smart and that’s why he was more than nervous that she was going to start drawing conclusions about why he hadn’t wanted to go home, and that his injuries had looked like more than just a hockey mishap. he hadn’t needed to look down at the mark as she was pointing it out, though still he propped himself up on his elbows the best that he could, looking down with a hum. “Must have forgot, maybe someone slammed into me or something. It’s hard to remember everything that happens in a game.” Luke had finally spoken, partly fumbling over his words.

Esme If it wasn't for the shock of it all, Esme would understand that none of this was her business to be questioning, but right now her curiosity was taking over. "You forgot getting grabbed this hard?" She pressed, incredulously. At a loss as to how that would be remotely possible, she reached her own hand under her top, gripping her side as long as she could stand, and even then the marks were clearly more temporary than the ones plastered to his body. "And don't you wear padding?"

Luke At her questioning he had to shake his head, eyes closing once again as he was trying to not relive the night he’d already experienced. And while he knew that esme hadn’t known about it, and probably was just trying to help he couldn’t stop the sentence the came out. “Just stop..” His voice was quiet, much quieter than he had anticipated for as it was laced with far too much emotion for someone he had barely known. “Please — stop..” It not being the first time those words had left his mouth in the past 2 hours. He knew his surroundings, knew that he wasn’t home and that his father wasn’t anywhere near him, but the continuous questioning feeling all to familiar and in a sense of deja vu, that when she had lifted her hand to mark her own body he’d flinched, thinking that her arm would be making contact with him.

Esme "What?" She asked, not able to make out the faint plea the first time around. When he repeated himself, this time almost pitifully, she retreated, holding her hands up to show her surrender. She wasn't good with this sort of thing, not used to being the passenger in bouts of breaking, but finally she understood the boundaries she was coming too close to usurping. When he jerked away from her, she sat back on her feet, creating more distance until he eased up. "Woah, what's - " No. Just let it go. Moving the rest of the way back, she stepped away from the bed all together, walking to retrieve her laptop from a chair across the room and keeping her distance as she returned. "You said you'd help me pick out clothes," she reminded, the only thing that came to mind now was to distract from the situation altogether.

Luke He wasn’t happy with himself right now, and he shouldn’t have been here, the last thing that Luke needed was to get Esme messed up in this fucked up mess that was his personal life. Coming here was a mistake and he would have been better sleeping on a park bench if it meant she wouldn’t be questioning him. His hands had moved to cover his face as he was taking a deep breath, once he felt the other getting off of the bed as part of him was almost too sure that she’d ask him to leave. However he was surprised to hear her voice again, hands sliding down his face before he was readjusting his shirt to pull it back over his body and the bandage that she’d placed on him. Given where she was sitting he was grateful as he could roll onto this side that wasn’t bruised up and be able to see the laptops screen. “Right, clothes.” He slowly nodded, pulling his hoodie under his arm to rest his head on. “what….were you thinking?” The male asked, at least trying to go along with the new subject at hand as anything was better than the previous one.

Esme She couldn't bring herself to watch as he attempted to calm himself, though it secretly was something she envied. She was never able to center herself so expertly without the aid of a chemical calm, though she knew it was a sordid thing to be green over. She pretended not to hear the heavy breath, perhaps for the sake of them both as she whirred her computer to life, typing in a few familiar urls to pull up the boutiques to skim through. "Maybe some skirts, I don't know. That's your job," she informed, slowly sliding the computer his way for him to scroll. "Pick me out a cute first day of school outfit."

Luke Luke had watched as she was typing in a few different urls, and passing the laptop over as he sat it on the bed between them. Clothes were never his things, always just putting on whatever was closest, sweatpants, basketball shorts, a t-shirt of any kind — this definitely wasn’t his area of expertise but he knew that she was just trying to distract him, and for that he could humor her, as he was grateful. “Giving me free range might be dangerous. You could end up going to school looking like a clown or something.” Looking through a few things he wasn’t even really sure what Esme liked, and other than ‘skirts’ he hadn’t much to go off. “Something like this?” He asked, bringing up a pleated, right above the knee skirt. “Looks like it has colors or something.” The male muttered as his phone was going off, looking around for the device for a moment before locating it.

Esme "Just because you pick it out doesn't mean I'm actually going to wear it," she alerted, peering over the side of the screen to see what she was getting herself into. "Cute," she nodded, "basic enough to go with everything. What about a top?" She continued, actually coming to enjoy this. Pausing, her eyes trailed over to the phone, nervous for a reason she couldn't explain. "Dallas?"

Luke “Well now I might be offended, thought that I might be your new fashion life coach.” Though Luke couldn’t even get it out with a straight face as he was letting out a soft chuckle. Unlocking his phone he could only shake his head at her question. “Becky, actually. Wondering where I am.” He muttered as it really wasn’t unlike his sister to be wondering where he had taken off to in the night, though usually he could answer with Dallas’ place. Tonight though he hadn’t wanted to tell her his actual location, just opting for the ‘out, see you tomorrow’ message. He hadn’t wanted anyone else in his family to message him, or becky to ask any more questions so Luke hadn’t though twice before he was powering his off phone, placing it on the other side of his body before he was speaking again. “Where were we?” Luke asked, already clicking through the tabs.

Esme "You'll have to prove your prowess, in that case," she teased, smiling at both the joke and the shift in his mood. "Oh. Did you tell her you were at your new consultant job?" It was a little odd that he'd turned the device off completely, but she'd pried enough for one night, pulling her eyes away. Hands gesturing back to the computer, she let him carry on, scanning the rows he moved through. "Don't let me down."

Luke Luke already knew that he wouldn’t get the job, but still he was happy to know that she was so willing to give up the reins of the job. “Told her not to worry about me is all.” It was just easier to turn off his phone, not wanting to deal with Becky’s questioning, though he also wouldn’t know when Dallas texted him back at this point — so he wasn’t sure who the real winner was here. glancing over at the girl he’d sized her up for a moment as he was looking back at the screen. “If it was up to me you wouldn’t wear anything at all.” He finally muttered, at least wanting to get any tension out of the air, even if he was still looking like a mess.

Esme Having no real reason not to believe the answer, Esme nodded, letting him move past the text. She wasn't sure if she'd heard the statement correctly at first, her jaw dropping open, only a small scoff filling the pregnant silence. "You've got some balls," she finally exclaimed, her laughter breaking past the shock.

Luke Of course he wasn’t sure how she was going to react, though Luke hadn’t ever been one to really hold back and it was no different now. Plus, as far as he was concerned she’d already seen him half naked, not in the best way — but it had happened. “Didn’t hear you deny it though.” The male simply spoke before he was pulling up a sweater type shirt of some sort, turning the screen to face her once more. “There’s your outfit, might be cold one the first day. Who knows with Degrassi.”

Esme For as little as Esme knew about Luke - and even less now, it seemed - she could tell that he shared a similar sense of humor, and maybe that was why the words hadn't offended her... not that she thought he'd have cared either way. "What's there to dent?" She asked innocently, getting a glimpse of the sweater. "You didn't even try," she chastised, though a whisper of a smirk remained. Still, she added the piece to her cart. It wasn't her style, but maybe she could salvage it yet - she was always up for a challenge. "Maybe stick with hockey, I'm not sure women's fashion is your forte."

Luke “Good answer.” The male grinned as he was pulling the sweatshirt more under his arm, letting his head rest on it once more as she was telling him about the sweater, and it was all true. “I tried with half of the outfit, can’t expect me to get it all right. I never claimed to know anything about fashion.” Though he had noticed that she still put the item in her cart, so he’d hoped that he hadn’t entirely done everything wrong. “Sticking with hockey in the plan, assuming that I can get a scholarship or something for it at least.”

Esme he back and forth wasn't unusual for the two, though usually it stemmed from disagreements in the short time Esme had been Luke's tutor. But this was new, this was... flirting? "You succeeded with half, I'll give you that," she nodded. Truly, she was impressed that he'd gone through with the task in the first place, though that could have been the desperation. "If you're this clumsy in high school, let's hope you keep those teeth through college," she treaded, eyes focused on the screen.

Luke Of course Luke had noticed how attractive the girl was the first time he’d laid eyes on her, though he hadn’t thought too much of it — not knowing if there would ever really be a time that he’d get to know her. Then she’d became his tutor and while Luke would normally have tested the waters right away, it just hadn’t seemed like a good idea off the bat ; and there was something about the girl that slightly frightened him. Scared and horny was basically his complex around Esme. At the mention of his teeth the male only smiled, baring the pearly whites to her. “I’ve got them all still, I think I’m good.” He smirked, tongue running over his teeth before feeling the no longer bleeding cut on his bottom lip. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Esme She still couldn't be sure what Luke's intentions were, but she'd be lying if she said her interest wasn't piqued by his demeanor towards her. The teeth shone were conflicting; she could admit to herself that it was a nice sight - the teeth themselves, and finally a smile, but she also couldn't think it wasn't simply to taunt her. And maybe that was the thrill for her, someone to keep up with. "Good to know," she murmured, raising her arm to point to the door dividing the rooms.

Luke Following her point, Luke had slowly sat up before he was able to pull himself from the bed, slowly walking to the bathroom as he was just pushing the door behind him, unsure if it even closed but he also didn’t care too much. Immediately walking to the sink he had finally began to inspect his face, fingers moving to pad at the bruising underneath of his eye ; happy that it was at least summer and he wouldn’t have to explain it to anyone. “Hey, where do you keep your washcloths?” The male finally called out, before he was moving his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off with a hiss at the soreness of his body. Fingers then moving to unwrap the bandage she’d put over him just so he could get a look good at himself.

Esme It amused Esme that Luke was so comfortable in her house, flitting around like he'd been a regular visitor. It didn't bother her, and at least someone didn't feel the need to hide out and walk on eggshells while cased in the residence. It wasn't excellent hostess skill to watch him through the sliver of door, but that didn't stop her, watching the muscle stretch as he reached to undress. "Uh, bottom drawer on the - Luke. I mean left," she quickly corrected, cringing at herself for the mix-up. It wasn't like her to fluster easily, but too much about the older boy was catching her off guard that night.

Luke Of course he’d caught the slip up, though Luke hadn’t thought much of it at all, as he was following her instructions and bending down to open the drawer, another hiss falling from his mouth before he was grabbing the washcloth and standing up. Turning on the water then he’d gotten the washcloth damp as he was finally cleaning up the dried blood around his mouth, and then around his nose. Shifting closer to the mirror to really inspect himself, noting that his nose hadn’t seemed to be messed up at all, which was for the best. His face as a whole hadn’t taken long to clean up, but then he was twisting his body looking at his lower half in the mirror. It didn’t look good and there was no denying that at all. He’d spotted the spot that she had mentioned earlier, very clearly being able to depict the hand marking on his abdomen. The bruising was the most awful that he’d encountered in his life, but it was definitely one of the top rankings, sadly.

Esme Nothing lucky about it, Esme was distracted by her own incident by the sounds of anguish from behind the door. Whether he wad telling the truth or not, it was still something Esme disesteemed. It was a sick fascination to watch him from afar, able to take in each sight more carefully now that he wasn't being begged not to. She didn't know what to think of the whole ordeal, but there was something going on that he wouldn't ever own up to, that much she knew for certain. For now, however, that would have to stay in her head. They were in a happy medium now, between the class lessons and personal questions, and she realized she didn't want to lose that.

Luke The events of the night were stuck in his brain, though Luke was more focused on where he was now, rather than what had happened earlier and he was just happy that the questioning had stopped. Cleaning along his chest it was a little bit better looking now that he hadn’t any residue left. Turning around he got a good look at his back, happy to see that it had looked just as normal as ever, and didn’t need any care. He’d then moved to rise out the washcloth once more getting as much of the blood out as he could before folding it up and sitting it on the sink. Picking up his shirt and the wrapping then Luke had moved to walk back out into her room, holding it up. “Think you could help me again?”

Esme Shuffling away, Esme thrust herself across the bed, laying across one side to appear inconspicuous. Clearing her throat, she glanced over as if she hadn't been aware of his presence before the question registered. "Oh. Yeah," she agreed, propping to her knees to crawl to the edge of the bed in front on him. She held her hands out to take the bandage back, taking a moment to roll it back into place before touching it to his skin, gingerly wrapping it around. This time around, she was more cautious, now that she'd seen the extent of the damage, but soon enough the task was completed, and Esme fastened the cloth into place. "There," she announced, hands lingering.

Luke Moving closer to the bed when she was propping herself up, Luke had handed over the bandage, arms just barely raising as he was watching her. It had felt better with the bandage around him, almost just keeping his body in place even he knew that nothing was broken. “thanks.” He’d finally spoken, once she was finished — noting that her hands were still lingering over his body but he hadn’t planned on really drawing attention to it. Taking a small step back he had pulled his shirt over his body before he was moving to sit back down on her bed. “Left the washcloth on your sink, tried to clean it the best I could.” The male muttered as he was shifting to get himself comfortable.

Esme It wasn't easy to make Esme squirm, least of all with bodily harm, but each pass around Luke's torso, she found herself on edge. If it wasn't self inflicted, it wasn't her forte, and this she knew had not been his doing. "You're welcome," she returned, sheepishly pulling her hands away as he redressed. "That's fine," she answered, moving to her feet to retrieve the cloth for the laundry.

Luke Of course Luke knew that he should have turned his phone back on, checked to see if Dallas had texted him or not, but Esme’s bed was far too comfortable and his friend had been long forgotten. Watching as she was moving into the bathroom to get his washcloth he’d felt bad for not grabbing it himself, a manner that his mother had instilled in him at a young age. His arms had just barely crossed over his chest as he was settling into the girls bed, not even sure what to say to her right now other than ‘thanks’.

Esme By now, Esme had forgotten that Luke had come here to wait out Dallas, distracted by how effortlessly the time was passing here instead. It was an unfortunate pretense that he was here in the first place, but she'd make the best of it and only hope that he'd do the same. She didn't think anything of the retrieval, picking up what seemed to be a clean corner of the cloth and walking it down the hall to drop down the laundry chute.

Luke He’d watched the girl for a moment before he was looking over and seeing her laptop still open to the website they’d been looking at. Getting an idea he’d navigated through, find a lingerie set or two as he was quickly adding them to the cart, figuring that she’d find them whenever she actually did check out, or when it arrived — either way, Luke was sure it would be a surprise. Hearing the girl in the hallway then he’d clicked off, returning the laptop to his previous destination, as he was reaching to pull one of her pillows underneath of his head. This wasn’t the place that he thought he’d end up at, but he wasn’t upset with it either, and oddly enough he’d felt safer than he would have at another place even though he was in an unfamiliar location.

Esme Too naive for her own good, Esme had no reason to believe that he'd done anything tawdry to her cart, making a note to check out later on. She didn't see anything amiss as she walked back into the room, but she did spot an awfully cozy Luke nestling himself in her bed, feeling the need to comment. "You adapt to your surroundings awfully well, don't you?" She asked, utterly amused by his ease.

Luke It was her voice that had drawn him back to the present, eyes opening as he was looking over at the girl, a faint smile finally playing on his lips. “You’ve got a comfy bed, and I’ve had a long night.” He was exhausted to say the least, but he also knew that he shouldn’t get too comfortable as this was, her bed. “And you’ve gotten me half naked twice tonight, relaxing in your bed just seems right.”

Esme His excuse was threadbare, but she wasn't complaining about his presence. The truth of the matter was that Esme didn't make a habit of sharing a bed with whomever had been shirtless prior, knowing herself and her addiction to attachment too well, but it stood to argue that this was a special case, the exposure not one of passion by any means. "You got yourself half naked, don't start gas lighting," she chuckled, sliding down to sit on the empty mattress space beside him.

Luke He was trying hard not to get himself comfortable, or too over his head but it was hard as her mattress was basically calling out to his body, begging him to get comfortable and stay there. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.” The male nodded as he was moving to make more room for her as she was sitting down. “Just tell me to get lost and i’ll leave to your regularly scheduled night.”

Esme "I would have taken it either way," she canted, cocky and most truthful. Her legs pulled to curl into herself as he shifted to make room, his offer unnecessary to hear. "I don't care if you stay," she thought out loud. "Like I said, all I was doing was shopping for clothes, and apparently I'm better without them," she simpered. "You should probably let Dallas know you're alive, though."

Luke “I’d expect nothing less from you.” Luke grinned as he was settling into the bed once more, happy with his surroundings for the night, until he heard the mention of Dallas. “Probably should..” The male muttered as he was moving slightly to pat around, looking for his phone before he realized that he didn’t have it on him. “I must’ve left my phone in the bathroom.

Esme Esme's personality was an acquired taste, that much was painstakingly obvious to anyone you'd ask, but the banter with Luke was completely liquid, flowing so naturally you'd think they'd been old friends -or something close- rather than a student under her guidance."Oh. I'll get it," she murmured, taking the few steps into the room to look. She plucked the phone from the counter, holding down the power button as she stood at the sink.

Luke Thanks” was the last thing that Luke had gotten out as he watched her stand up and walk towards the bathroom. In the meantime he’d turned more into her bed, kicking his shoes off as he was rolling to lay on the good side of his body. His head had easily nuzzled into the girls pillow as he was crossing his arms over his chest once more. It was the first time in a few days that Luke had actually felt safe sleeping somewhere, and with the night he’d already had he was exhausted. Not being able to hold back the sleep any longer it had soon over taken his body, eyes closing as he was drifting off to sleep.

Esme As the phone rose to life, the screen lit up, something Esme could have easily ignored until the next several notifications dinged, rapidfire as each preview crossed the screen. Dallas had finally answered, asking how bad "it" was this time, Esme's eyebrows pulling together. She knew it was risky, but she swiped the screen aside, revealing the other messages, all with a similar tone. Becky sounded worried. His mother sounded worried. His dad sounded... what did that mean? "It won't happen again," she whispered to herself, reading over the line again. Knowing she didn't have the time or privacy to inspect it, she shut the phone back off, walking out to the bedroom only to be faced with Luke, fast asleep. Finding her own phone, she searched for Dallas on FaceRange, shooting him a quick message that Luke was fine and sleeping, leaving it at that before setting both devices on her end table. He looked peaceful, the first thing she noticed, smiling to herself before shutting the light off and moving into the other side of the bed. Her own thoughts surely wouldn't be shutting off for the night, but at least one of them could end their night properly.

#➳ 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 | luke #para #tw:abuse #tw:blood #p:bones

1 note · View note

the-magnus-archives-archiver · 5 years

Text

Piecemeal

Case: 0112905

Name: Lee Rentoul Subject: Murder of his associate Paul Noriega Date: May 29th, 2011 Recorded by: Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London

Let’s get one thing straight right off – this is not a goddamn confession, alright? If you go to the police with this, I will deny every word, and I know enough about the law to know that even if I spill my guts to you about all the horrible things I’ve done, it will count for nothing in court. It’s not like you’ll even be able to help me, I just... My mate Hester said he came to you a few years back, been seeing ghosts and that, and you guys looked into it and told him it was some sort of noise messing with his head, ‘infasound’ or something, and he’s fine now. I need that. I need you to tell me that it’s just coincidence and my mind’s playing tricks, and I need to not lose any more bits of me.

So yeah, I killed that asshole Noriega. Stabbed him in the throat and left him to bleed out on the dockside. Maybe that shocks you a bit, maybe not, but trust me when I say he had it coming. Eight years we worked together, and it was him that got carried away kicking McMullen’s head in and moved it from assault to GBH, but sure enough when we get picked up he turns on me and I get pinned for it. Five years I served because of him, while he walked free as you please. I’d say that I was due a bit of payback and I certainly got it.

It wasn’t my first choice, though. I’m not stupid and parole keeps you on a short enough chain that slitting Noriega’s throat was not my top priority. Don’t get me wrong, it was something I’d been itching to do for five goddamn years, but I wasn’t in a rush. I had plenty of time to arrange something nasty for him, and I wanted him hurt more than I felt I had to do the deed myself. So when I got out in June last year, I bided my time and kept my ear to the ground. Tried to get in touch with him, but was told by the few friends we had in common that he wasn’t interested in talking to me. He’d clearly done ok for himself in the years I’d been away, and could afford some muscle to make sure that I didn’t bother him. I ended up with a couple of bruised ribs when I finally got tired of the run-around and tried to have it out with him properly. It was laying there, some grim side street in Lewisham of all places that I came to the decision that if I was going to hurt this asshole, and I mean properly hurt him, I was going to have to think outside the box a bit.

I decided to pay McMullen a visit. Before Noriega had gone to work on him, Toby McMullen was just some street punk. These days he was just a street punk who had trouble turning his neck. I’ve met plenty of born losers in my time, I mean it’s kind of a given in this business, but I’ve never met someone so intent on being a screw-up as McMullen. When I saw him he was high as a kite and barely knew I was there, but you bet his eyes lit up when I mentioned Paul Noriega. It took hours to get anything useful out of that waste of skin, but eventually I pieced together his side of this sorry tale. Noriega had paid him a visit in the hospital, apparently, before the police had picked us up, and promised that if he fingered me for the assault, then he’d have all of the narcotics his little junkie heart could dream of. Only once he was out of hospital and my conviction had gone through, it wasn’t two days before McMullen was out on his arse again, and Noriega didn’t want to know. Any idiot could have seen it would play out that way, but not poor, stupid Toby. Still, he’d been itching to get the knife in for almost as long as I had, and he had had the freedom to plan it, so I asked him if he had anything I could use.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when he suggested magic. Toby had always been into all of that mystical crap, even before the drugs, and if there was some half-baked New Age fad going round you could bet you’d find it dribbling out of his mouth whenever he was coherent enough to actually talk. I punched him in the gut and turned to leave. He followed me, doubled over and struggling for breath, begging me to help him. He said he was serious, said it wasn’t like the other stuff, said he knew someone with real power, who could put the hurt on Noriega, but he just didn’t have the money.

I should have kept walking. I should have shaken him off. I should have beat him so bad he couldn’t turn his neck the other way either. But I didn’t. I stopped and I listened to what that piece of human garbage had to say. I was an idiot.

So Toby took me to see his friend Angela. He never gave me her second name. I asked him what it was: Wicca, voodoo, some crystal bull? But Toby said no, nothing like that. Said he didn’t really know how it was supposed to work, but had a girl a few months back, had told him about Angela; said she’d used her services on a particularly unpleasant ex-boyfriend. Apparently he’d disappeared, and they never found a body. So then I’m thinking maybe there’s no magic there, just a killer with a schtick, but hey, if that was the case it was fine by me, just as long as Noriega got done.

When I finally met Angela, it was all I could do not to cave McMullen’s head in. I’d just about convinced myself I was going to be meeting with a hardened killer, maybe one that kept a bunch of spooky Halloween crap around, but still someone who’d get the job done. I wasn’t even put off when we pulled up to a well-kept suburban house in Bexley. But when the door was answered by an old lady in a lilac dressing gown, I almost lost it. McMullen asked if she was Angela, speaking in a quiet voice like he was actually scared of the geriatric fool. The old woman said yes, she was Angela, and asked us to come in.

The house felt almost as old as its owner – faded floral print wallpaper, dark oak furniture and threadbare carpets. The walls were covered with framed portraits, the sort you’d get in any cheap antique store or charity shop, although as we went into the living room I noticed something that I didn’t expect: they weren’t paintings, they were jigsaw puzzles, each completed and framed. And sure enough when we sat down on the worn cloth sofa, there in front of Angela was another jigsaw, half- finished. I’ve got no problem with the elderly, and if they want to throw away their last years putting together a damn picture then I’m sure not going to stop them, but it wasn’t exactly going to kill Noriega, was it?

I was so angry at this massive waste of my time, that when she offered us a cup of coffee, I almost put McMullen face-first through the glass table in front of us. I grunted something which Angela apparently took as a “yes please”, and so a few minutes later there I was drinking instant coffee from a chipped mug that this doddering old ass clearly hadn’t thought to wipe the dust off of. When she asked if I wanted Paul Noriega dead, I nearly choked.

She asked it very matter-of-factly, like it was a question on some form she knew the answer to but had to fill it in anyway. I glanced at Toby, who nodded at me, and I thought what the hell, I might as well play along. So I said yes. Yes, I did want him dead. And more than that, I wanted him to suffer. Angela smiled when I said that, a warm smile that suited her round face, and said that that wouldn’t be a problem. I started to explain the situation, but she waved it away and told me that Toby had filled her in on all the details, and that there was just one thing she needed from me, that he couldn’t provide. I started to tell her that I wasn’t paying for someone’s gran to take out a hard case like Noriega, but she said no, she wasn’t after money. She said that she was “well-compensated” for the service she provided and that all she needed from me was an object, anything that I had taken from Noriega. Not a gift, she said, staring into my eyes with a look that I recognised from years of working with very unpleasant people. It wouldn’t work if it was a gift.

At this point I was starting to feel uneasy. Not scared, alright, I wasn’t scared of this old woman, but being around her was... bad. I don’t know how else to say it, she was bad. You’ve got to understand, I know dangerous, I understand dangerous, hell, I am dangerous. This was something else. But I wanted Paul Noriega dead so badly. Five years ago, just before we’d been picked up by the police I’d borrowed his lighter. It was a battered old Zippo, used to have a picture of a topless woman on it, but now that was almost worn away. After he turned on me in questioning, I didn’t feel much like returning it to the treacherous backstabber, so I held on to it. I hadn’t thought much of it, but here it was, still in the pocket of my jacket, all those years later. I handed it to Angela, and she gave me that look again, and told me that it would work just fine.

And then we left. Angela told us not to worry about it, that Paul Noriega wasn’t going to be bothering us for much longer; we just had to wait until she was finished. Finished with what exactly, she didn’t say, she didn’t need to. We knew whatever it was we were probably better off not knowing.

The waiting came hard, though. After he’d had me roughed up, it seemed like Noriega had decided I wasn’t worth worrying about. I’d see him walking those streets like he owned them, his pair of leg- breakers in tow, and I knew there was nothing that I could do about it. He knew it too. So I waited. And I waited. I waited for the shot, or the knife, or the poison or the... whatever would end him for good. It never came. Days turned into weeks and there he still was, as cocksure as ever.

I was patient. God, I was patient, but after three weeks I had almost written off that useless old bag as a time-wasting con job. I was going to give her one more week, just one, but then something came up that I couldn’t ignore. Word came down that Noriega was meeting someone at the docks, some fence by the name of Salesa. The man dealt mainly in stolen art and curios, valuable stuff, and was paranoid as hell, which meant Noriega was going to be there alone. It might have been a trap, sure, but I’d been sitting on my ass waiting for him to magically drop dead for so long that if there was even a chance it was on the level, I had to take it.

Turns out it was true, and went off smoother than I could have hoped for. I found the warehouse a few hours before the meet, and staked out a good spot. Then I waited. Salesa turned up first, a big Samoan guy with close-cropped hair, flanked by four men in dark suits, who carried a square wooden crate between them. They went into the warehouse, and sure enough five minutes later there he is, that snake. He was alone, and seemed to be limping slightly. He headed inside through the same door, leaving it unlocked. Perfect. There was no point me going in yet. I wasn’t keen to get my head kicked in by Salesa’s goons, so I just watched, my hand gripping the hilt of the combat knife I’d bought at an army surplus store I know is happy to sell off-the-books.

It was almost an hour later that Salesa and his men left, still carrying that box. They didn’t look happy, but I could have given a damn. As soon as they were round the corner I headed inside, as quietly as I could, and there he was, leaning up against a pile bricks, smoking. I started to move towards him, but as I got near he must have heard me, and turned around. He started to say something about reconsidering, and lowering the price, when he realised I was not Salesa. Then a look passed over the face of Paul Noriega that I will treasure forever. No matter what happens to me, the memory of that look of panicked terror will stay with me.

He turned to run, but whatever was wrong with his leg meant he tripped over the bricks instead. I grabbed him by the collar, my knife already out, and dragged him up. I had always been the stronger of the two of us, and he knew he couldn’t fight me. Holding up his hand, he begged me to wait, to listen. I noticed that his hand was missing a couple of fingers, old wounds that had long healed over, though I didn’t remember seeing them before. It didn’t matter; I could hear the blood pumping in my head and nothing was going to stop me taking my revenge. He begged for mercy, as I plunged the knife into him once, twice, three times. Again and again and again I stabbed that backstabber until, finally, I him let him fall. He landed on the floor hard, dead weight, his head making a thick, cracking sound as it hit the bricks, and blood began to pool on the floor around his body.

As the rage started to fade and my breathing returned to normal, I took a second to look over poor dead Paul Noriega, and saw something seemed to have been knocked loose when his head hit the bricks. Picking it up, I saw it was a glass eye. I looked back at the corpse, and sure enough there was a gaping hole where his left eye should have been. When had that happened? He certainly had both eyes when we had worked together and all ten fingers as well. He’d also had all his teeth, where now I saw gaps all over that dead, smiling face. I shivered, though I don’t know why.

I won’t go into detail about how I went about disposing of the body. Just trust me when I say that even if the cops did find any piece of Noriega’s corpse, they wouldn’t be able to pin it on me. And life went on. His boys did come looking for me when their boss didn’t return, but I knew to lay low for a while, and soon enough they realised that if he was gone, they weren’t getting paid either way and moved on. And so I had my revenge, and that should have been the end of the story. But it wasn’t.

It was five days after I killed Noriega that I found the first package. I was on Tottenham Marshes, near the reservoir, on business you don’t need to know, and I came to a metal bridge over one of the streams there. Now this wasn’t a place I went often, and I don’t think I’d ever crossed that bridge before in my life, but there, lying in the centre of it, was a small box. It was wrapped in brown paper and string, like an old-fashioned Christmas present, and had my name printed on it in clear letters: LEE RENTOUL, FOR IMMEDIATE CONSIDERATION.

Obviously I was a little bit freaked out at this but not as freaked out as when I opened it. Inside, lying was a black cardboard box, full of cotton wool and a single severed finger. It was obviously some sort of threat; some punk reckoned they could put a scare on me. No chance. I threw the finger into one of the canals and set the box on fire before throwing it in a bin. I headed home quickly, keeping my attention all around me and my hand on my knife. I was so busy looking behind me, I didn’t see the hole in front of me, and I tripped. As I fell forward, I felt a hot pain in the hand that had been on my knife. You guessed it. Falling had caused the blade to slice clean through my little finger.

I’m not too proud to admit that I screamed at this. I tore up my shirt, trying to make a bandage to stop the bleeding, at least until I could get to a hospital. But as I began to wrap it up, I noticed that it wasn’t actually bleeding. The wound was closed. It had healed, like it had happened years ago. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to do. So I just went home. I wasn’t getting my finger back, so I figured I could try to deal with it after a decent night’s sleep.

There was another box at my flat. Same as before. This one contained two toes. I tried to ignore it and keep my foot well away from any knives, but... I was trying to adjust the settings on my flatscreen when it fell off the wall. Hit my right foot and, well, have you figured it out yet? That was two weeks ago. Since then, I lost four more fingers to accidents, most of my toes, this eye I managed to put out on a goddamn fencepost. I’ve lost count of the number of teeth gone, and believe me when I say that you don’t want to know how I lost the hand. Each time, a box wrapped in brown paper: LEE RENTOUL, FOR IMMEDIATE CONSIDERATION.

I’ve tried everything. Once I thought I managed to outsmart it. Spent the day in my bedroom – nothing sharp, no edges. I’d taken out everything except the mattress. It didn’t matter, I woke the next morning with an agony in my foot far sharper than any knife could cut, and the big toe missing, just like the one I’d received the morning before.

I knew it was Angela. Of course I did, I’m not thick. Whatever curse she’d laid on Noriega must have passed to me. I went over there, you know. Went to confront that old... and you know what happened? She let me in. She was, nice, civil. Offered me another cup of coffee! I told her where to stick it. Demanded, asked, begged her to stop whatever was happening to me. You know what she did? She shrugged. She just shrugged! Told me that “Some hungers are too strong to be denied”, whatever the hell that means. So I went for her. I was going to strangle the life out of that curse-flinging bag of bones. But as I reached for her, I... I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. I know that that’s how I lost the hand. I know I chewed it off.

Look it doesn’t matter. I just need your help. I need this to stop. I don’t know how, but this is your area, right? This is what you do. You look into this weird ghost crap, right? Well this is the definition of weird ghost crap, and I need you to help me. I need you to save me from whatever is happening.

I don’t have much time. I got a box this morning, a few hours before I came here. It was a tongue.

Archivist Notes:

It doesn’t look like this case was ever properly followed up. According to the supplementary notes, shortly after making his statement, Mr. Rentoul became violent towards Institute staff and in the ensuing incident there was... an accident. No details are given, but it apparently required Mr. Rentoul’s hospitalisation. I’m reminded of a somewhat tasteless joke about loose tongues. He did not return to the Institute afterwards, and his statement was archived. According to the arrest records Sasha uncovered, Mr. Rentoul was telling the truth about the somewhat chequered past of himself and his associate Paul Noriega, with extensive files on both of them. The last listed interaction between the police and Mr. Noriega is two months before Mr. Rentoul’s statement, and since then no sign can be found of him in police records, or indeed anywhere else.

I sent Martin to look into this ‘Angela’ character, not that I want him to get chopped up, of course, but someone had to. Apparently he spent three days looking into every woman named Angela in Bexley over the age of 50. He could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws. Useless ass.

Tim has done his best to try and hunt down Mr. Rentoul and see if we can contact him for a follow-up interview or evaluation, but it looks like he disappeared shortly after making this statement. We were able to find his old landlord, though, who said that Mr. Rentoul vanished in early April of 2011, leaving many unpaid bills and no forwarding address. He said that when he had gone to clear out the flat, he had been surprised to find there was no furniture left. All that remained in the house, he said, were hundreds and hundreds of small cardboard boxes.

Source: Official Transcript and Podcast (MAG 14 Piecemeal)

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #MAG #MAG14 #MAG 14 #Piecemeal #Statement #The Flesh

4 notes · View notes

eachainn · 6 years

Text

Camp NaNo Snippet #4

Mikleo made a soft sound, Sorey pulling his attention back to the present. He watched Mikleo for a moment before dragging his fingers up Mikleo’s back. “Falling asleep again?”

There was a pause as Mikleo thought it over. The seraph eventually hummed and shifted so he his head tucked under Sorey’s chin. “Tempted.”

Sorey chuckled, hiding the sound in Mikleo’s hair. He felt Mikleo’s hold tighten on him before going comfortably loose again. It seemed like the temptation had been too much, which just made Sorey want to smile. He was too comfortable to protest.

He kept stroking his hand over Mikleo’s back, looking around the room he was in. It was nothing like he was used to, either from home or the days he had spent in the Abbey while he was training. He was the son of a priestess and a printer, not poor enough to suffer through hard times, but not rich enough to satisfy the Abbey. He had only gotten in because Lailah had sponsored him, Sorey was sure that if Michael had offered he would have been rejected on the spot.

Still, he wasn’t resentful of it, mostly because Mikleo didn’t lord it over him. He was taken for what he was, which was a relief after spending days smiling through little slights and letting them roll off. At least traveling was better than that, he could walk away and not have to see the tightening of Lailah’s jaw as she took the insult and had to walk away as well. After all, it wasn’t her fault.

Sorey glanced over the soft sea-green walls, his gaze jumping to some of the artifacts in the room. Then again, knowing that Mikleo was a seraph, Sorey didn’t know if artifacts was the right word. They had probably been purchased when they were new and interesting and had just been kept. Sorey itched to go and look at them, but that would mean wiggling out of the cocoon of warmth that he had made for himself. It could wait until later, maybe when Mikleo woke up again. Sorey was sure that they would continue their discussion. If not, then there were always other times. He had a feeling that Mikleo would be inviting him back many times over the week, if only for another debate or to talk about Camlann; maybe sex.

He smiled widened, Sorey not bothering to tamp it down. It wasn’t just a one-time thing, and he was relieved of that. It made all the thoughts that had been drifting through his head all day a little more welcome. Twice was not a surety, but Sorey had had affairs that hadn’t lasted as long, so it was something. With Mikleo there was an actual connection, more than just attraction. The last time he’d had conversations like this had been with Jude and Milla. Certainly that was enough to allow himself to consider the dowry that would go into a pact. After all, he was a Shepherd, and one without a partner.

There had been no pact with Lailah, they had both been fine with that. Sorey had his Shepherd’s pact with Maotelus and the idea of Lailah being his Sub Lord had been strange. No matter how many years passed and how long Michael had been retired, he would always think of the two of them as Shepherd and Sub Lord.

Still now that he was away from Ladylake, he would need a Sub Lord eventually. He would be out on the road, trying to reach the far flung villages and towns, with only himself and Aino. To have a seraph meant that he could do more, help more people, which was the important thing. The problem was attracting a seraph.

Sorey glanced down at the tangled mess of Mikleo’s hair. His fingers curled on Mikleo’s back, feeling the seraph squirm against him. He wanted it to be Mikleo, it was all too easy to imagine the two of them striking out on the road. After all, they were already working so well together, they had the same interests and there was an attraction. The latter was less important, but it was there and Sorey couldn’t deny it. Nor could he deny that it had only been a day.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to shake his head and laugh. It was too much, too fast and he knew it. He knew it every time and he still rushed into it. He was doing it again here with Mikleo. Two days was a better record for him, but not enough to allow himself anything more than this. What they had was a few lively conversations about history, two nights of debauchery and a common home town. Sorey knew that many other pacts and marriages had been formed on less.

He bit his lip, opening his eyes to stare at the opposite wall. Then again, those marriages and pacts came with something else. For one, most of the ones that he heard about were from the gentry and nobility. They had secure positions of Shepherds in the city or Praetors. Sorey could count on one hand the number of traveling Shepherds that had a seraph as their partner. It was rare for a seraph to want to brave the dangers. Most of them were already settled in positions, either as Lords of the Land or attached to a family through current or past pacts. After all, most Shepherd pacts tied a seraph to a family for generations. Lord Zenrus was the usual example, the seraph watching over the D’Aramitz family until the family line had died out. Even then, Lord Zenrus had stayed to watch over the lands and house. Lailah was an exception to the rule, striking out on her own after Michael had retired instead of staying back. Then again, it was hard to keep a seraph on a Shepherd’s pension of 50 gald a year. It made his own salary of 100 gald a year look glamorous by comparison.

Sorey stared at the window, working the calculations in his head. He wasn’t particularly valuable. He had his salary and then what he could get from his parents. From Muse he might get 500 gald upon her death, unless he retired himself and took over her living. He shivered at the thought. It wasn’t that working as a priest wouldn’t be horrible, Sorey just couldn’t imagine being tied down to one place like that. From Selene, he might be able to get the same, but that would come from selling her print shop as well, which Sorey couldn’t bring himself to do. Selene had been in the midst of getting an apprentice contract fleshed out when he passed through. It would be better if the apprentice inherited the shop, because Sorey was not about to take someone’s livelihood away to make himself look better. That only left one other avenue through his father.

Georg Heldalf was technically his father, a helping hand in the miracle he was. A child in long tradition of people fumbling to have children in any way they could and the church looking away. Muse had once showed him his birth certificate that was kept in the parish records.

Sorey Bergier, born to Selene Bergier nee Cléireach and Muse Bergier by blessing and miracle of the seraphim.

The phrase was a familiar and one that had followed in the next five other entries, which meant that the miracle was more common than implied by the wording. Although, Sorey had seen his father more often than some of the others that had been born in Camlann. Georg Heldalf had made a point of visiting every few years and inviting Sorey out to Pendrago. He might have only gone when he when was accepted into the Abbey, but his father and the rest of his family had made Pendrago feel like home. Even with that, Georg didn’t owe Sorey anyway. There was no sign that they were related in any paperwork, so there was no obligation there. But Sorey did owe his father something, at least the word that he was considering at least making a pact with a seraph. It was the kind of thing that Heldalf and Kara would want to know about.

He jumped when a finger prodded his side, Sorey trying to scoot away from the questing finger. Mikleo didn’t seem to notice because he kept poking at Sorey’s side until Sorey was on his back. The seraph wasted no time to flop on top of him, pinning his shoulders down to the bed.

Sorey stared up at Mikleo in shock, his throat going dry at the sight of Mikleo perched above him, the seraph’s hair curtaining his face. Sorey wanted to reach up and touch it, but Mikleo’s weight kept him steady.

Mikleo glared at him for a moment before reaching up to smooth his fingers over Sorey’s forehead, rubbing over it there before letting his hand slide down to cup Sorey’s cheek. “I can practically hear you thinking.”

Sorey stared up at him before smiling. “Is it that loud?”

“Like a clock.” Mikleo leaned over to kiss Sorey’s forehead. “Ticking away.”

“I’ll try to tick a bit quieter.”

Mikleo laughed, nuzzling into his hairline. He lingered there for a moment before sitting up. Sorey watched as Mikleo carded his hair back, almost pulling it back into his usual queue before letting it fall around his shoulders again. “No, I’m up. And we can’t just stay in bed all day.”

“Can’t we?”

Mikleo groaned and rested a hand over Sorey’s face. “No. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll never want to move if you do that.”

“That wouldn’t be too bad.”

Mikleo muttered something, Sorey missing it and the expression on the seraph’s face. He only had glimpses of Mikleo’s face between the seraph’s fingers. And then the barrier was removed, Sorey groaning as Mikleo got off of him. He reached out for Mikleo, his fingers trailing over Mikleo’s hip before the seraph was away.

#my fic #sormik #tales of zestiria #fic: Resonance and Resistance #camp nanowrimo

6 notes · View notes

everlarkingjoshifer · 6 years

Text

A Different Way CHPT 13

Hello, my lovelies,

I’m here with another late ass chapter of this crazy story. It’s been a busy week for me but I’m trying. LOL

First, I would like to thank @titaniasfics and @javistg for her incredible beta work. (You ladies are awesome!) To @mega-aulover @jobanana7 and my sexy Hubby for being such amazing cheerleaders and finally to @sunsetsrmydreams for her beautiful banner.

To my loyal readers and those who have left such incredibly sweet comments, I just wanted you all to know how incredibly honored I feel and you guys are the very reason I keep writing despite all my doubts and second thinking. Without you, I wouldn’t even be in the position I’m in. So Thank you guys, thank you for your continuous love and support. Know, that I appreciate everything from the bottom of my overly anxious heart!

If you’d like to access any other chapter, you can do so here AO3

As always, don’t forget to read, review, and reblog. Now on to the story...

Katniss awoke to Peeta’s arm slung across her hip. They’d decided to cuddle on the sofa and ended up falling asleep. After an unsuccessful attempt to move, she instead resorted to using her free hand to shake him awake. “Peeta wake up.”

“No, not yet,” he moaned, wrapping his arm around her tighter and breathing in the scent of her hair.

“Peeta, I don’t want the kids to see us like this. We have to get up before they do,” she insisted patting him on the arm.

Blearily, Peeta raised himself from his sleep and rubbed his eyes. “Fine, I’m up.”

“Toothbrushes?” she asked covering her mouth.

Peeta pointed to a general area, “It’s in the closet with the towels.”

Katniss nodded and went to freshen up. She widened her eyes when raccoon-like prints looked back at her and groaned. this was exactly why she hated makeup so much. Turning on the faucet she tried to wipe as much of the mascara as she could. Once she was satisfied with the results she got to brushing her teeth. Hoping Peeta hadn’t noticed the disheveled mess she’d woken up as she walked out of the bathroom and said, “Should I make breakfast?”

“That would be great!” Peeta said brightening up while he folded the comforter.

The kids woke up midway through Katniss making scrambled eggs and bacon.

“So, what is it with Johanna and your sister? Are they lovers or roommates,” Peeta asked with a bite of his eggs.

Katniss choked. “Oh god, no, they’re just roommates. They’re both highly hetero.”

“What’s hetero daddy?” asked Rye, big eyes looking his way.

“It means a man and a woman like each other,” Peeta answered looking at Katniss.

“Oh, so it’s not like aunty Rue, right mommy? She likes a girl,” Willow added.

“That’s right, baby, she’s a lesbian. You get two aunties. Aunty Rue, and Tia Clove,” Katniss replied smiling. She looked over at Peeta. “Rue’s my old college roommate.”

Peeta nodded understanding. Once everyone had their tummies filled, Katniss hung out until Willow begged to go home because she missed her own clothes.

Putting on her coat, she smiled at Peeta and squeezed his hand while Willow gave Rye a quick hug goodbye before walking out of the house.

A couple of weeks passed. Katniss had never felt hornier than when around Peeta Mellark. It was as though she were a teenager all over again. She would often go over to his house while the kids were at school. Sometimes as early as dropping Willow off. Sometimes he would let her in and had what Katniss considered to be the hottest sex she’d ever experienced, and other times work took a priority leaving Katniss to settle her discomfort on her own which frustrated her to no end. Her hand could only do so much as Peeta was more than attentive and knew exactly which buttons to push.

Her work, thank God, never suffered. But when Johanna Skyped her in the middle of her little sessions Katniss grunted with frustration at not being able to finish, cursing herself for not bothering to close the stupid laptop.

“What the hell are you doing, and why are you so sweaty?” Johanna asked rummaging into a chip bag.

“I was busy if you must know,” Katniss answered hoping to avoid any more questions.

Johanna looked unconvinced as she chewed. “Doing what?”

“None of your business,” Katniss clipped.

“Ask her if she was flicking the bean,” yelled Prim off camera.

Katniss gasped and turned crimson.

“Oh my god, you were, weren’t you?” Johanna squealed.

Katniss shook her head. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Liar. I can always tell when you’re lying,” Johanna accused. She turned to call Prim who rushed by. “Your sister was flicking her bean.”

Katniss covered her face. “Oh my god, I hate you both.”

“You were?” asked Prim looking both surprised and a little grossed out.

Katniss swallowed and closed her eyes as she nodded. She could hear both girls squealing gleefully and felt herself blush even more.

“What brought on this new course of events?” asked Prim settling on a chair next to Johanna. Both women looking attentive waiting for an answer.

Katniss sighed knowing there would be no way she could keep her secret from them. They’d eventually wear her down. “I slept with Peeta.” Mortification set in as both her sister and best friend gasped and Johanna yelled a ‘fuck yes’. Katniss could picture them pumping their hands triumphantly.

Rolling her eyes she groaned, “Okay, you can stop now.”

“Hell to the no,” yelled Johanna enthusiastically. “You have so much more to explain. When did this happen and, more to the point, was he good? I betcha he was good.”

“ I really hate you,” Katniss groaned.

Johanna stuck her tongue out. “No, you don’t. You love us.”

Prim made a disgusted face. “Ew, I don’t want to know about my sister’s sex life.”

“Well then, cover your dainty ears. Wouldn’t want to affect your delicate sensibilities,” Johanna advised.

Prim stuck her tongue out.

“Why me?” Katniss whispered knowing her best friend was right.

Johanna gave off a cartoonish cackle, “Why not? You’re super hot and you can be nice when you want to be.”

Katniss gave them the middle finger as she did everything to avoid their gaze. “I’m awesome, okay? And for the record, yes he’s amazing. Come to think of it, I don’t think Gale was ever half as good as Peeta. I think this is the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Probably the ONLY good sex you’ve ever had. It doesn’t look like Gale would ever be good at any of it,” Johanna tuned in.

Katniss snorted. “How would you know that?”

Prim rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. He’s so into himself that I suspect he’s selfish. Bet you he was more worried about his pleasure than yours.”

“Not to mention that I think he has a small dick that curves to the left and he has problems with cumming as fast as the flash runs,” Johanna chimed in.

Katniss laughed nervously. “How did you know?”

“She was right?” asked Prim scrunching up her face. “Ew.”

“What can I say, I’m a talented woman,” Johanna looked so proud of herself.

Clearing her throat Katniss continued, “Actually, I’ve been sleeping with him for a couple of weeks now.”

Both Johanna and Prim’s eyes looked like saucers as they gasped and covered their mouths to muffle their squealing. Katniss was beginning to suspect Prim and Johanna were part dolphin, what with the frequency they emitted through the computer. It was both thrilling and annoying at the same time.

“You’re fucking that hot piece of ass and didn’t tell us right away? Oh, now I’m mad,” Johanna murmured and glared once she regained her bearings.

“Yup,” Katniss answered.

Prim looked impressed. “Not bad.”

Rolling her eyes, Katniss told them the whole story of Gale and his insensitive words. Both ladies reacted appropriately, with Johanna promising to crush his nutsack between her hands and Prim, who wasn’t one to use curse words, finally calling him a fuckface.

When she got to the part where Peeta showed her his painting and she discovered her portrait they sighed romantically.

“Don’t be such a stingy hoe and share more details already,” Johanna pouted bouncing on her chair like a spoiled five-year-old.

“What else is there to say, though,” Katniss asked shrugging.

Prim laughed shaking her head. “You could tell us if you guys are dating. Do I get to call him my big brother now?”

“That’s the problem, we haven’t exactly established anything, and he hasn’t taken off his wedding band. I’m afraid I’m falling for a guy who feels he has to keep the memory of his wife alive as some sort of punishment to whatever he feels he’s guilty of,” Katniss said. She hesitated for a second taking a wavering breath. “I’m scared,” she whispered

“Katniss, there’s nothing to be scared of. He’s loved you forever, and I’m pretty sure he’s feeling just as insecure as you. I mean, you have to deal with Lame Gale,” Prim said looking to Johanna for assertion.

Katniss pursed her lips, “But what if he decides that having a relationship could ruin his son?”

“That won’t happen. Rye would’ve already rejected you and he hasn’t,” Johanna put in choosing to resume her chip munching.

Katniss groaned running her hand across her face. “What am I gonna do?”

“Katniss, do you love him, or even like him enough to know that you can love him?” Prim asked.

Katniss thought for a minute. “I’m not sure if what I feel for him is gratitude for helping me so much or love. Maybe it’s a combination of both, or I don’t really know.”

“Well, I suggest you figure that shit out first,” Johanna said with Prim nodding vigorously.

Katniss huffed. “Well, I guess fuck me, huh?”

Johanna wiggled her eyebrows. “More like keep fucking him! He’s delicious looking, you lucky bitch.”

Katniss snorted. “Shut up.”

#ADW chpt 13 #everlark fic #enjoy!#this was such a fun chapter to write!

31 notes · View notes