#((Shes going to be like sheen at show and tell 'this is my scarf and ear warmers i got from the traveler!!')) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerwrites06 · 4 years

Text

break my mind’s eye IV — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Three days passed since their reconciliation and it felt as if the layer of ice around them finally melted into a somewhat comforting warmth. Mornings rose with an innocent conversation on their jobs except Jungkook tried to keep things discreet while they were eating. Nights ended in peaceful slumber, on the few occasions where Belle would sleep on his chest or Jungkook hugged her from behind.

The heavy pit in her stomach elated soon after a couple of decent sleeps. Especially now that the designing process for the Spring Line was almost over. Madame Saitos’ dresses were incredibly rare because each piece of clothing was handmade save for a few trips on the sewing machine. Which is why the designing process comes with a time restraint to ensure that the most raw ideas spewed onto the paper. Of course tweaks here and there would always be required but that time limit created some of Saito’s most prestigious fashion museum worthy designs.

Since Belle designed around half of the finalized line, she would handmake her own designs and the news alone could keep her happy for the rest of the year. After losing an opportunity to see her designs on the runway a tear almost jerked in her eye getting that chance again.

Secretly though her favourite design she made this month was the satin white suit for her ever fashionably selective ‘boyfriend’. Belle saw the kind of suits in his wardrobe, burgundy velvet, black with golden vectors, silk deep blue and over half of them were Saitos’ original designs. She knew that this suit had to match the standard of his entire wardrobe.

This morning Belle stood in front of an ironing board, briefly smoothing out the textures of the newly designed trouser ensuring that minimal pressure was placed. Glasses slightly slipped down her nose with her hair in a loose bun. Her body draped in a fitted black long sleeve tucked into a khaki green midi skirt and a short scarf tied around her neck.

The woman had enough time out of her work schedule to showcase the suit himself. Especially since ‘Jeon Jungkook preferred private deliveries’ as Saito would say with a playful roll of her eyes.

From what she observed Jungkook came back to the mansion for a lunch time refresh and almost right on the minute, the sound of a car stopping rung in her ears. Something fluttered in her heart knowing whose footsteps grew louder as the corner of her lips curled up when the familiar male showed himself, a small smile directed towards her.

Jungkook muttered a few words about the car to one of the guards before walking towards her while the pants now laid out on the ironing board neatly. “You’re working at home?” Hands dug into his pockets, eyes flickered down to the soft white pants.

Belle smiled with a bright glint in her gaze before turning around and grabbing the open box. “I wanted to give it you properly but—” Partially bandaged fingers hovered over the fabric of the freshly ironed jacket folded with care inside the box. “Do you want to try it?”

Something jolted inside him seeing the woman look over at him that he couldn’t quite describe in any sentence. But he nodded nonetheless. Shrugging off his own blazer, Jungkook kept a close eye on the graceful way she brought the long back suit out displaying it in front of him first. The corners of his lips instantly curled seeing the familiar winged design on the back, similar color to the whole suit except it had a sheen like texture that glistened when brought into the light. A design that resembled one animal he admired the most next to dogs. “Phoenix wings?”

The girl nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah. It’s the first time I’m making a suit for you so–I wanted it to be personal.”

Her voice had turned so sweet in the past few days that Jungkook could melt by the sound at this point.

Belle walked closer and draped the blazer around him, letting his arms into the sleeves before it perfectly lay on his shoulders. As distracting as the measuring session was the woman managed to make the fitting as close as possible. “Is it comfortable?” When the male agreed, she felt a sense of accomplishment burst through her. Saito had her make and mend suits all the time when she was not named a ‘designer’ but somehow knowing this one was done well allowed for a tiny celebration in her belly.

Jungkook watched her beautiful eyes light up, that strange jolt sparking inside him again which he ignored for the time being. “I want to give you something too.” He glanced down at the magnificent blazer before looking up at her.

“What is it?” Belle watched him carefully shrug off the suit so the entire outfit could be placed neatly for the event it’s meant for.

Gentle hand wrapped around hers, Jungkook led her upstairs to their shared bedroom.

Once they reached the area Belle was made to wait on the bed while the male rushed into the walk-in wardrobe. The only thing she could make out properly were the sounds of rummaging through clothes and slight slamming of something wooden. Then his figure appeared again holding a small deep red velvet box in his hand. As soon as her eyes reached the object, her heart hammered before her mind could even catch up. It didn’t take an expert to assume what might lay inside the box as she had seen many like it for one particular occasion.

“I know it looks daunting.” Jungkook reassured as if sensing the thoughts rushing inside her mind. “A lot of deals tend to have paper contracts which we will get at some point.” He padded closer before kneeling down completely in front of her while she sat on the edge, his arms brushing against her knees. “But for now—I want to give you this. As a promise that I’ll never pull the rug from under you…ever. This agreement is as solid as the pillars of this mansion. Nothing will ever happen to it.”

Like a thin paper ripped out from her eyes Belle faced her true reality staring down at the now open box, showcasing a glimmering diamond ring. Growing up the woman had been one of those people who believed marriage was a sacred bond. A promise that two people would stay loyally and happily together till the end of their comforting days. Jungkook showed no sign of being disloyal nor did Belle feel any deep sense of unhappiness in these few days. Looking at the truth behind the veil seemed naïve in this situation knowing it would only make their ordeal miserable all over again. She couldn’t afford to be miserable now. Taehyung was getting better, taking his medicine and moving to become a better man and she had to stay strong to ensure that happened. He deserved to come out happier from all this just as much as she did.

So she smiled down at the male seeing a comforting shine in the ring now. Perhaps a sign of hope rather than some sensationalized sacred bond. “Which finger should I put it on?”

Jungkook chuckled, pulling the ring out and gently taking her left hand. In no manner of hesitation the ring was softly placed on her fourth finger fitted to near perfection. “I borrowed one of your rings to get the fit.”

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered. Her hand absentmindedly reached out to caress the skin under his white collar feeling a slight warmth. Leaning in, Belle pressed a tender kiss just on the corner of his lips before pulling away.

His breath choked in his damn throat feeling her soft lips; his hands almost wanting to caress every inch of her skin and forget about the rest of the days’ work. Though Jungkook respected that Belle understood they couldn’t. No matter how amazing the idea sounded. He merely let out a slightly shaky sigh before giving the beauty a smile. Unfortunately he had to look back at the watch knowing there was a meeting looming in the next half hour almost leaving an empty feeling in his gut. “I have to go back to work.”

Belle nodded, snapping herself back to reality. “I have to go too.”

Hesitantly unlocking their joined hands they both went to their separate locations for the rest of the work-day.

Another two days went by in a blissful rush as Jungkook and Belle grew friendlier towards each other to the point where they would even share laughter through jokes from work or childhood life. Belle found out that his mother worked at a magazine company in Beijing while his father ran the investment companies in the US. They were very hands-off parents when he was growing up so his aunt practically adopted and raised him which is why his personality differed greatly from his father. Though his tactics in this business were heavily influenced by him.

Jungkook discovered her parents had been more fond of a son than a daughter so she had to jump through a lot more hoops to be good in their eyes. Eventually it never worked, Taehyung took care of her most of her life so far. That is until her parents were killed in an accidental explosion at their place of work which led to her older brothers’ downfall. Belle’s uncle and aunt tried to take care of him from time to time while she worked at the boutique until at some point they grew tired of babysitting a drug addict.

The two never really had a person to truly share mixed feelings about their upbringing. Even if Belle had Taehyung, he would always somehow reel back and tell her that their parents loved them both equally. Which she knew fully well was not true no matter how much it felt comforting to believe it.

Though the deep conversations usually faded back into playful serenity again now more comfortable with each other’s presence than ever before.

In came the day of the garden party.

Belle dressed herself in a baby blue midi dress, the overlay adorned with the same colored flowers on a sheer material trailing down to touch her knees, crème colored hat to finish it off. The second event she was going to with Jungkook but this time no sense of dread passed through her nor any stress. In fact the woman wanted to see Jungkooks’ aunt wearing the gorgeous dress she chose for the occasion. And Jungkook wearing his own custom made suit.

A similar routine where she walked down the stairs while the white-suited male gave some instructions to the guards possibly about keeping an eye on the mansion while they were away. Then he turned to face her once she reached the center of the living room, a soft smile immediately tugging at the corner of her lips.

The extremely aware corner of her mind now buried itself under all the elation developed through the past few days. Some part already knew that this was a ruse. Jungkook was successfully gaining everything he asked for without barely lifting a finger and Belle truly had no valid choice to disagree. Though if that thought swirled around in her head for too long, it would start aching and this whole experience could fade into torture again.

Perhaps there was a comfort in pretending that his hand intertwined with hers radiated comfort rather than entrapment. The guards bowing to them and leading them into the car showed a sign of protection rather than no means of escape. Jungkook might think the woman a pawn but that did not mean she was one.

From where she sat in the car shoulder pressed to him and hands still linked, Belle imagined herself to sit at the far end of the chess board rather than the front as a mere pawn.

Once they reached the garden party the couple was welcomed with a vibrant burst of nature, people in colorful dress and bright suits floating through the bushes like pixies. Occasionally a photographer or two flashed their camera towards them but hardly anything intimidating like the previous event. Eyes almost immediately flickered over to them when they walked out of the car. Holding Jungkooks’ hand actually provided some kind of comfort knowing she was not alone and exposed to all these people.

Bushes shaped to represent different safari animals, crowds of pink, white and red roses all around coupled with fragrant jasmines and chrysanthemums. The garden looked almost endless from the sides. Belle noticed the large cherry and peach blossoms, little petals falling gracefully and a gorgeous mansion to pull the whole picture together. The building adorned a taupe sandstone with golden detailing similar to Jungkooks’ estate except aged a bit more.

“Darlings!” Boyoungs’ voice rung in her ears as the woman bounced towards the couple wearing a royal purple midi dress with some matching wrist gloves and a floral hat to top it off. Purple tinted lips stretched out in a bright smile, hugging the both of them with the same enthusiasm.

The older female led them to the main table where her husband sat with a few other family friends who welcomed her with an intrigued smile. Sitting under the shade of the laced line umbrella provided some cool away from the warm sun while they were served tea.

Boyoungs’ eyes immediately flickered towards the shining diamond around Belle’s finger and a small gasp caught in her throat. “Oh you proposed!” Her announcement ripped through the entire group and onto a few others outside of the umbrella as a rush of cheer passed on like a infection.

Belle merely smiled with her gaze fixed on the rose tea while Jungkook chuckled nervously. She hoped they would not ask for a romantic proposal story but they all seemed to just pat the young male on the back. Some of the ladies asked what kind of cut it was which the girl gave an answer from observation. It didn’t take long for her to realize that most of these people were probably arranged to marry. So the idea of any romantic story would be useless to them even though Belle and Jungkook were supposed to be a ‘love’ marriage.

Somehow the lack of her own froufrou story made it easier and harder to sit at the table. Belle politely listened to stories of awkward marriage arrangement along with an attempt to sound less hostile towards each other. For a minute she prided in being so good at pretending that her marriage was happy and full of light.

Though the pretense became exhausting really quickly. Her posture began to falter as her rose tea reached the end of its fill and the shade from the sun created cloud over her mind.

“Excuse me.” Belle spoke as gently as she could to the crowd. “I’m going to take a stroll.” She smiled getting up from the chair, chest feeling a little constricted.

Jungkook watched her in slight concern when she excused herself. Truthfully nothing about this conversation comforted him either. The whole idea of marriage, especially one that came from a business arrangement didn’t spark happy stories and it was a situation that some attendees at the table could relate to. The only thing he could do as a sign of comfort was touch her hand lightly which she squeezed in response before he watched her walk deeper into the gardens.

A couple of minutes passed and Jungkook grew tired of the conversations bubbling between his family friends so his eyes wandered to other attendees. Eventually his eyes set on one particular male, simple black suit with a silver necklace around his neck and blue lens glasses over his eyes.

Excusing himself from the table politely, he walked over to where the other male had been examining the jasmines. A few colorful pixies rolled in front of him and giggled when he gave them way until finally he was able to come close to a more reassuring face. Well second most reassuring to the one that just glazed through the gardens on her own.

“Didn’t know you were so fond of nature.” Jungkook smirked standing next to him.

“Well a lot of my supplies come from plants.” He shrugged, eyes merely scanning over the flowers and trees not really focusing on anything in particular.

“Technically they’re my supplies but sure.” He dug his hands into his jacket pockets, attention trailing and silently searching for a familiar blue dress. “Anything to report?” It was a regular, almost absentminded question at this point whenever he saw the male since he was responsible for most of the sells around this area.

Hoseok took a generous sip of tea before wincing as he stared at the decorative cup. “Rose tea tastes like piss.” He cleared his throat, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Everything’s fine so far. Clients are rolling in payments from all corners, some even paid in advance to ensure secrecy.” He placed the tea cup on one of the vacant tables before looking out in the gardens again. “Except a few regulars like Kim Taehyung still hasn’t paid.”

“I told he already paid all his previous payments.” Jungkook shook his head, brows furrowing.

“What about the one the five days ago?”

The younger male had to connect the dots for a few seconds as his forehead knitted. “Five days ago? He’s been in rehab for almost a fortnight.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it’s working. I remember all my sells.” He rolled his eyes a little. “Well I kinda just give it to Taehyung instead of sell.”

“You do know I could kill you for doing things like that, right?” Anger bubbled right up to his throat except not directed towards Hoseok.

“Hey you’re the one who told me to give younger clients a break.” He defended.

“I know.” Jungkook had the strong urge to tell him that Taehyung already paid the biggest price of all strolling around the cherry blossoms. “Don’t sell it to him anymore.” He ordered simply.

“What?”

“If he asks again, send him to me. Don’t give him anything.” He seethed the last word spotting Belle now as a bright suited man walked up to her. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the familiar face even from this distance.

Hoseok stared at the male quizzically. No client ever received this kind of special treatment even to send some kind of a message. Hell if he wanted to send a message, Taehyung would have been dead in a ditch somewhere for police to scrap him off. Yet Jungkook wanted to keep the man alive for some reason. “Why—”

“Just…” Jungkook sighed trying to push his frustrations even though he wanted to explode right there and then. “…Just do as I say.” Eyes flickered back over to Belle again who was now conversing and smiling with the man causing a small twinge in his chest. “I’m trusting you to do this for me, Hobi. Alright?”

The older male still looked utterly confused but nodded nonetheless. “Of course, man. You’re the boss.” He pressed his lips together. “Now can you tell where they put the whiskey?”

Jungkook glanced around the party before leaning into him. “Ask the server with the blue flower on his breast pocket. They usually bring in secret batches for more important guests. The password is periwinkle.”

“Is that some kind of fancy slang for penis?” Hoseok winced.

He stammered already imagining Belles’ reaction to that statement being far more dramatic than his. “It’s a shade of—just go.” Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little as the male rushed to find his source of sanctuary.

Boyoung was definitely on par with the seasoning of fashion since a garden party was the absolute perfect way to create inspiration for spring design. Granted this years’ line finished in its designing process, there was no reason not to take in the sheer amount of beauty. How ethereal would those peach blossoms look on a silk kimono or chrysanthemum detailing on a wedding dress. So many colours and designs all around her Belle had the strong urge to twirl like a little child in pure happiness.

But to keep up a decent appearance she merely smiled watching the cherry blossoms fall gracefully down to the ground. Hand held out the woman managed to have one land on her palm. That was when a voice spoke from behind her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She turned around to see a man with a wisteria shaded suit and a charming plump lipped smile. His chocolate brown hair parted to the side with eyes that expressed both kindness mixed into a little intimidation. “It is.” Belle smiled at the male before glancing back at the scenery again.

He took a small step forward. “I’m Kim Seokjin.” He stated holding his hand out which the woman accepted kindly after a moments’ hesitation. “The owner of the Sangria House.”

Belle only heard a few rumors about the Sangria House much like a person who evaluated life in a brothel based on assumptions and fiction stories. From what she knew, it had the mixture of a teahouse and a brothel but that was pretty much everything. Either way she smiled knowingly trying to be polite even though the girl had no intention in admiring a neatly dressed pimp too much. “Kim Belle. Nice to meet you.”

“With the murmurs I’m hearing, it seems Kim will be turning to Jeon very soon.” Seokjin smirked, glancing over his shoulder towards the flowing pixies all over the garden.

The woman tried to maintain the smile despite her prior momentary peace in the garden now being diminished. “Maybe not that soon.” She mumbled.

“Why do you say that?”

Her heart leaped slightly, the sudden urge to just spew out her whole situation in hopes that Seokjin would never be in her line of sight again. But the woman knew better to keep quiet especially since these attendees would probably not be that helpful nor would they find her ordeal abnormal. “I have a lot of other responsibilities right now.”

“Ah yes the new and coming designer for Saito.” Seokjin nodded, gaze lowered to his feet for a moment before looking over at her again.

Belle smiled politely feeling a sense of pride towards her workplace. Saitos’ outfits were rare so it was hard hearing about them from just anyone. Except from the way this man held himself and the reputation of the Sangria House, she knew Seokjin was not just anyone.

“You know, I had been wanting to order a few new dresses from Madame Saito as a refreshed décor for my angels.” Seokjins’ request lingered in the light breezy garden. “Maybe I could personally order you as my designer.”

A chill rushed down her spine either from the breeze or the fact he said ‘my designer’. Still the woman sighed lightly and smiled. The opportunity to create a contact was a literal dream come true. But the man did not know her designs nor did he see how she worked. Which gave the unsettling assumption that Seokjin was asking on his mere personal interest just by looking at and talking to her.

“Darling!”

Belle heard a familiar voice call out as a flash of white strolled towards the two of them. Immediately a more genuine smile tugged at her lips when Jungkook stood, arm gently wrapped around her waist.

“Mr. Jeon.”

“Mr. Kim.” Jungkook’s fingers gripped at her dress for a second before smoothing it down. “I hope you don’t mind if I whisk away my lady for a minute.” It wasn’t really a question from the sound of his tone and when he was already pulling her away.

“Think about my offer, Ms. Kim.” Seokjin smirked.

Belle could only get the chance to nod before she felt herself being led off towards the mansion.

“Bit of a rushed interaction.” Belle remarked as they walked into the majestic building Jeon Boyoung called her home. Instead of crème, the mansion adorned a dark wooden interior with antique hand-painted portraits of what she assumed were ancestors of the Jeon family including a modern one of Jungkooks’ extended family. The large painting was the first thing people saw when they walked in, Jungkooks’ aunt and father sitting on chairs while their spouses and children stood on the far ends.

She could easily see the mixture between Jungkooks’ parents from his mothers’ soft round eyes and small pouty lips to his fathers’ sharp jaw and intimidating brows.

“You looked like you needed a bit of rescuing.” Jungkook replied simply with a shrug following her gaze up to the portrait.

“Oh yeah he was definitely ‘talking’ me to death.” Sarcasm seeped through her tone as she walked forward towards the wide entry hall having the strong urge to scream and see if there was an echo.

“Believe me that’s his superpower.” He tried to explain as well as keeping up with her slightly excited exploration. “Seokjin got his company to the highest ranks of the elite through his eloquence. Hell he even convinced me to invest.”

“So you invest in brothels.” Belle turned around to face him now, not really caring what he did in his work since it all could be listed down into a category of inappropriate. “Did you get good discounts?”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sangria House is not just a brothel.”

“Yes yes don’t think a girl working alone in the city hasn’t heard that before on the streets.” She raised a brow. “Let me guess…it’s a respected establishment with highly trained employees who get paid a fair wage. Did I forget to mention the highest bidder gets to take away a novices’ virginity? And the fair wage only exists if you’re a full-fledged angel. Oh and they get to wear pretty dresses.” Belle gave him an advertisement happy smile before walking carefully backwards.

“You’re telling me you’ve been recruited into Sangria House before?”

Belle shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure every person who looked unemployed enough has.”

Jungkook kept glancing behind her to check if it was safe enough to be walking like that. “Guess fate wanted you to come to this place one way or another.” He smiled.

“Ah so you did get a few investor gifts.” She turned back around walking towards the flight of stairs. “What were they like?”

His eyes trailed down her body when she bounced up the stairs feeling a quick tremble. “I’ve experienced better.” Jungkook quickly caught up to the woman and grabbed onto her hand to keep her close to him for a few more moments.

Belle smirked up at him trying to back away cheekily before her back hit the wall. “I think he had a good offer.” She muttered averting her gaze a little.

“Really?” He tilted his head placing his palm on the wall next to her head. “Do you have to wear a pretty dress to come with it?”

She playfully slapped his chest. “Not that kind of offer.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but admire her every little movement as if he would lose her if he missed a second.

“He wants me to design some dresses for his angels.”

“Are you going to agree?”

Belle shrugged soothing the place she slapped lightly. “He’s ordered from Saitos’ before so—should be a good contact.”

Jungkook only hummed in response.

“What?” The corners of her lips curled up already sensing what made the man look so uncomfortable at the prospect.

“Nothing…”

“Alright, I’ll just go back and talk to him again.”

Before Belle could prance down the stairs, Jungkook hooked his arm around her waist and pressed her back against the wall. One free arm leaned next to her head while he leaned down with a small smirk. “Everyone’s been talking to you today.” He brushed away the loose hair from her face before his arm wrapped around her again, making sure no space escaped between their bodies. “Maybe I just want you to myself for a minute.”

“I am an independent woman, Mr. Jeon.” She teased with a faint smirk. “You’re going to have to ask nicely.”

Jungkook smiled as she played with his sharp collars. “May I—please have you all to myself for a minute, Ms. Kim?”

Belle hummed, taking her hat off and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just for a minute.” She acknowledged in a whisper.

All he needed was her say and his lips magnetized onto hers, tasting the brownie she nibbled on earlier. Palms rubbed over the soft fabric of her blue dress to her bare arms and the back of her neck, sliding down to where he could feel the curve of her plush peach. Almost a week had passed since they last touched each other in this manner but Jungkook burned up so much, he could surpass a furnace. Kisses trailed down to her jawline.

Pausing on a soft patch of skin on her neck he bit onto it humming in satisfaction when she gasped lightly. Jungkook could listen to those sounds on a record player if he ever wanted to find peace when she was away. He couldn’t help her squeeze her whole body a little to ensure that this wasn’t all a dream. But the heat radiating together told no lie.

Soon frustration seeped in as the clothing around her felt too restricting causing his hand to sneak under the skirt of her dress. A satisfied sigh brushed against her lips feeling how warm her bare skin felt against his own almost lulling to a transient relaxation. Like nothing could go wrong at this moment.

“We can’t do that under a minute.” Belle giggled, noses nudging against each other as they intoxicated themselves in each other’s breathy laughter.

“I just missed touching you.” Jungkook whispered feeling his mind far too blurry to care about putting up a wall and sounded more calm about this situation. He loved feeling her against his skin. So much so that he had rub his hand up her hips, torso and breast after sneaking out of her skirt. Every crevice drove him insane.

Her core pooled at the firm brush against her body, lightly touching her nipple before he gently grabbed her by the neck. Eyes closed unable to focus on anything else in the hallway even if she tried, her lips practically parting on its own for Jungkooks’ tongue to explore her mouth once again.

“Jungkook! Belle! Aunt Boyoungs’ calling!”

Jungkook groaned under his throat making Belle chuckle at how desperate he got from a few naughty touches in their momentary privacy.

Fixing her dress to make it look proper again, the couple walked out holding hands towards the party with a new air of joy around them.

Patience had always been one of this strong suits. A trait many men of his stature lacked so when he excelled at it, respect for him shot up through the roof. So why was it that he could not keep his hands to himself whenever Belle so much as stood next to him? Merely a day passed since the garden party and Jungkook had already kissed every part of her face whenever he got his chance in the morning.

It didn’t help that the woman had a talent in noticing when someone was literally trembling to feel more of her. She got ready wearing nothing but a thin, satin robe causing her slightly plump thighs to peek out of the clothing. The man had to physically turn his head away so he could focus on putting his tie on without looking like a toddler doing it for the first time. Even then he still pecked her temple and cheek when he stood behind her.

Even when she finally left for her work, her small goodbye kiss lingered on his lips for most of the afternoon which meant he had to space out for a few seconds during meetings before finally answering any questions or making any demands.

Then a call rung in his phone while he sat in a car on his way for a check-in at the warehouse.

Hoseoks’ name appeared on the screen.

Heart sinking down to an abyss, Jungkook answered the phone. “What is it?”

A sigh passed from the other side of the phone. “He came back again. I’ve sent him to you now. He’s on the way to the mansion.” Hoseok sounded just about as helpless as Jungkook felt when the two quickly ended the call not wanting to waste any more time.

Postponing the check-in, the driver took him straight back to the mansion a little quicker than he was legally allowed to but they reached before Jungkook could groan in frustration. He wanted to get the whole situation over and done with. Dealing with client was already frustration as it were on a normal day but now more than ever he wished he didn’t throw away his pack of cigarettes already.

Not that it was his fault anyway since Taehyung decided to ruin the entire deal in less than a month.

Once inside the mansion Jungkook saw the hooded man on his knees with four guards surrounding him in front of the dormant fireplace. Shrugging off his blazer he slammed it down onto the floor before stomping over to him. He spotted the mans’ blood shot eyes and chapped lips, skin glistening in sweat. When he finally stood before him, a deafening silence lingered in the air.

This was what would have happened. Taehyung on his knees ready to accept his bloody fate for taking advantage of his long trained patience. The man had the shaking urge to continue with that plan. It almost worked until he remembered the soft linger on his lips again. “How long have you been taking it?” He asked in a grim tone.

Taehyung hung his head, lips pursing together.

“I asked you a question.” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth, feeling his final nerve being tugged at.

“Couple of days.”

“A week is not a ‘couple of days’” His fingers curled up into tight fists. “And you had the gall to ask for more? Did you even finish it all?”

“I—I didn’t ask for that much.” His voice was meek under his breath.

Jungkook scoffed turning around for a moment to catch his fiery heaving. “You didn’t ask for that much.” He repeated the statement in his own mind and felt the lava flooding past his control. When it reached the peak of the volcano, one of his fists swung across Taehyung’s face, a crunch sound touching his ears.

The male cowered on the floor, hands over his nose as blood trickled through his fingers and his eyes looked more bloodshot than before.

“This isn’t a buy and sell anymore, Taehyung!” His voice echoed throughout the walls of the mansion. “Do you even realize your little sister lives here now? Because of you!” Jungkook spat watching Taehyung struggle to get himself back up again. “You think she’s here just so you can continue scrapping drugs for free?!”

“You’re the one who made the deal in the first place!” He shrieked through his hands.

Jungkook grabbed at his hair, forcing him to look up at the male. Blood drenched him from his nose down his neck but it only angered the man further. “I only made the deal because I thought you’d do anything to make sure your sister was safe. Even if it meant facing the real world without anything numbing you out.”

“Jungkook…” He heard a familiar murmur from behind him almost making his stomach jump up to his throat. Before he could turn back to see, the floral dressed figure already padded closer to the scene, eyes flooding with tears.

Despite the ache in his heart, the male still let go of Taehyung roughly to limp back onto the floor. “Tell her.” A growl sneaked within his voice. “I want you to tell her what you did.” He gestured towards the woman.

Belle hesitantly walked and knelt down in front of her brother as he tried to get up again. Her hands held onto his shoulders just until he was on his knees as well. A sob caught in her throat seeing the blood smeared on her older brothers’ face. His blood drenched hands attempted to hold her somehow but only ended up staining her skin and some of the lighter flowers on her black background dress. “What happened?” She whispered.

Taehyung lowered his head, biting down his bottom lip to conceal a small sob.

“Tae—” A little annoyance flew straight to her head thinning her patience to near nothingness but to be the cool headed one in the volcanic pit made from the living room, she kept her voice calm. “Tae, please answer me.”

“I couldn’t—” He sniffled, gripping onto her arms. “I couldn’t do it.”

She pressed her lips together as the tears jerked out of her, streaming down her light berry colored cheeks. Immediately the woman shook her head before wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” Jungkook argued. “He had a responsibility.”

“And you made a promise.” Belle met his gaze with a subtle tremble in her tone, getting off the floor. “Addiction isn’t just going to go away.” Her voice rung soft in his ears as she padded closer to Jungkook instantly melting away most of his fury. “You could’ve done the absolute worst to me, it was still going to take time.”

His eyes twitched a little feeling the ache on his knuckles a little too prominently, desperately wishing he took a small puff of a cigarette prior to this meeting. Jungkook glared back at Taehyung who already looked like he was going to pass out from the one punch before he looked at Belle. Everything felt so much better in these few days. He saw her smiling more often and playing around that now watching her face drenched in tears and her neck streaked with blood made his chest clench in immense pain. “He’s going to stay here from now on.” He declared struggling to keep his voice steady. “We’ll have nurses and guards looking after him until he gets better. There’s no chance of him sneaking out anywhere.”

Belle watched the male gesture towards his guards who grabbed Taehyung firmly and led him towards another room through the hall next to the bar. Silence plunged back into the room as the woman tried to meet Jungkooks’ gaze again. Even if she tried to form them, no words managed come out of her. She did not know whether to be thankful or just more exhausted about this whole ordeal; the ring around her finger now felt heavier than ever.

Jungkook walked towards the bar. With a loud sigh, the male practically threw a glass onto the table before roughly pouring some golden liquid to the brim and taking a generous swig.

In small hesitant steps she stood behind the counter. Grabbing a cloth and drenching it under a tap, Belle wiped off any residue of blood on her neck and arm.

“How’re you so calm about this?” Jungkook asked solemnly.

Who knew that simple question could cause a thick lump in her throat. “I’m not calm.” Fresh tears gathered at the brim of her eyes while she cleaned out the towel again. “I’m just tired.” She sniffled feeling an invisible but heavy weight on her shoulders that she couldn’t get rid of even if she wanted to. “Really tired.”

Jungkook watched her from over his shoulder trying to drink another sip to get rid of that ache in his chest again. A few maids walked out of Taehyungs’ new room with some old sheets and bloody cloth, bowing to the two of them quickly before excusing themselves. Once the room only consisted of them, he pulled out another empty glass.

“I don’t drink.” Belle muttered, standing next to the male in front of the counter.

He turned back towards the small fridge behind them and reached inside for a plastic bottle with some red liquid inside. “You like cranberry juice?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation. The right corner of her lip twitched a little as Jungkook filled her glass up halfway. “Thank you.” She whispered, gently holding the crystal before taking a shy sip.

Jungkook sighed leaning on his elbows against the table, eyes scanning the now empty living room. “I’m really tired too.” He murmured. “It’s not really 9 to 5 job like it looks, you have to—mold it with your personal life and let it run you until finally…” He held up his glass. “This kills you… Fun old life, isn’t it? Violence, alcohol and—”

“Sex.”

“Not really getting much of that lately.”

“Don’t expect it tonight either.” Belle took a more generous sip. “Maybe next time beat people up in a warehouse like all the normal crime lords.” She gestured towards the empty space in the living room. “That was the second time.”

He looked at the empty space again with an added annoyance before hanging his head, scoffing. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”

She had a tiny smirk curled up her lips before leaning to press a warm kiss on his cheek. “That’s what you get for punching my brother.” She whispered. “Too bad though.” Belle looked down at her outfit. “I really wanted to show you something.”

Jungkooks’ eyes immediately trailed down her form again, fingers twitching. “Showing me something isn’t technically sex.”

“Nice try.” Belle patted his back before leaving him in own heated mess to go upstairs. “Good night, Mr. Jeon.”

Once again he was left watching the beauty walk away from him and all he could do was take in every inch of her body and every strand of her hair until it drove him mad. If the alcohol didn’t kill him, she might just.

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts mafia au #jungkook mafia au

273 notes · View notes

shelby-love · 4 years

Text

SIRIUS BLACK

A little Bit of Amortentia

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none this is a certified fluff piece (2.3K words)

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing this! Harry Potter is such a great world, and I’d love to explore more of it. Requests for HP are OPEN!!

P.S for everyone wondering Remus is actually my favorite out of the Marauders

"Well I still think you're missing out," Lilly stated after a long rant and because of how sweet she was, she had decided to stop her mouth right at that sentence.

You only laughed lightly, pushing through the student body with Lily Evans hot on your robe. "Sneaking out to Hogsmeade is something I'm fine with missing out on."

She shook her head, determination settling hard in her brow. "That's beside the point."

"Then what is the point?" You asked, hugging your textbook closer to your chest. When you noticed that the auburn-haired girl was no longer by your side you bunched your brows together and turned around. "Lily? Lily, what are you doing?"

Her eyes were wide, bright green eyes blazing at you. "You seriously have no idea?"

You had idea of course. So much so that you felt embarrassed by the mere thought of it…

Him.

"Come Lily. We're late for Potions."

She shook her head and followed you reluctantly, only because she knew that your professor would surely be disappointed if you two showed up late. Lily and you were after all, Horace Slughorn's favorite students.

"This isn't over," She mumbled.

Perhaps for her it wasn't. Lily Evans tended to see the best in all people. It was the good in her that made her give in to James Potter little after Christmas this year after hating him her entire schooling at Hogwarts.

"He matured a lot," she would tell you, and while that might have been true for James it surely wasn't true for the boy you laid your desires upon.

Sirius Black.

Either he was purposely ignoring you, or he really was a dimwit.

***

"Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals." Horace Slughorn informed, keeping a safe distance from the steaming love potion. The rest of the girls in the class not so much. Each of them neared the potion little by little with a boy in mind. Lily and you both shared the same thoughts as those love-obsessed girls – only you didn't show it. Despite having boys in mind, Lily and you stood put.

"Lily, dear, how about you come here and tell us what you smell?"

You hard-pressed your shoulder against hers as she smiled shyly, obvious to what she was going to smell. James Potter stood at the other end of the assembly of students, looking at his lovely girlfriend with pure adornment.

For a second, they had you wondering if you could ever find love like that.

"Do you know why I asked Lily to tell us what she smells?" Horace asked, sending you a look that had a simple meaning.

"Because the potion is supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us…" You answered quickly, just like he wanted you to.

"Marvelous Y/N. Good job," Slughorn praised you whilst ushering Lily to tell you all what she smelt. From the corner of your eye you managed to catch James' sly smirk as his eyes darted from you, to his very uninterested friend.

Sirius Black.

You swallowed, focusing your eyes on your best friend that stood in front of the potion, holding her hair so it doesn’t fall into the potion with a face as red as a tomato. "Vanilla, freshly cut oranges and –"

He cheeks flamed even more if that was even possible. She dashed away from the love potion and stood back next to you without revealing the third thing, although everyone knew already. James was grinning like an idiot. "What was the third smell?"

She shyly turned her mouth to your ear, "James' quidditch uniform."

You laughed out loud before Lily shushed you down frantically.

It was all fun and games until Horace called out for you, "Y/N would you mind telling us what you smell? Don't be shy now, come."

A part of you wanted to say "Yes, professor I would mind." but the other more rational, and smarter part of you had tied your hands behind your back in defeat. Lily gave you a push and sooner than later you found yourself standing over the love potion.

"I-I smell…" You inhaled slowly, the potion's fumes filling you up. Several different scents found their way into your nostrils, making you have a hard time deciphering them because of the sensual overdrive they gave you. "Roses…the smell of sea and-"

"Oh no," you mumbled, barely audible for everyone but yourself.

"Was there something you wanted to say dear?" Horace asked, having heard your mumbling barely.

"No…I um, smell petrichor," You stated somewhat awkwardly but very, very quickly. "You know, um, when the r-rain hits the ground…"

"Ah, yes," realization dawned upon your professor. "A lovely smell. A lovely smell indeed. Very well, miss Y/LN thank you. You may go back to your place."

Lily Evans waited for you, beaming, "Mind telling me what the third smell was?"

"Shut it Lily."

"But I told you mine!"

***

You glanced at the sign above the pink looking door and sighed. Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, it said. You had known about this small tea shop that was located on a side road off the High Street in Hogsmeade Village even before you had arrived at Hogwarts. A boy from Hufflepuff had taken you there on a date once, sometime during your fifth year. It wasn't an especially pleasant memory, being cramped and surrounded by snogging couples at only 15 with a boy you didn't particularly like that way. Nevertheless, it had happened, and there was nothing you could do about the lingering memory.

The overall cute place was owned by Madam Puddifoot; the same woman who dearly welcomed you in the moment you stepped through the door.

You hoped to spot Lily there, after all that's why you were there. When the front of your little notebook changed under the influence of the Protean charm, you knew it was Lily instantly. While the Marauders had their own tricks, maps and such, Lily and you had thought of something far more practical. It would do you good, the charm, as it was expected to be known by every student that wants to take the N.E.W.T.

A win-win situation that was.

But although Lily Evans was nowhere to be seen, you still decided to sit down, trusting her not to pull any tricks on you. Save for the snowy weather, your day has been good so far and you didn’t want anyone to disrupt it.

Cautiously, you sat down and leaned against the plush sofa, discarding your scarf and coat along the way.

"What can I get ya lovely?" A sweet woman asked, hearts practically swimming within her irises. A pale pink apron with daisies was secured tightly around her waist, dolling her up prettily.

"I actually won't be staying, I'm waiting for-" You started, although you were sure in the fact you were going to have to buy gilly water at the very least. Even waiting comes at a price here.

But that didn't seem to be the case as the bells jingle and a dark figure waltzes through. The ladies' man, a member of the Marauders that had the most beautiful features pursued by impeccable dark hair and grey eyes walked in without a care in the world. Sirius didn't know it, but he had your toes curling every time.

You immidiately glanced around the cute shop, seeing nothing but loving couples.

No lone girl in the shop save for you.

Realization struck you in the gut and you swallowed, wanting now more than ever to disappear into a hole…or turn into a little bird and fly away.

His eyes swept across the stuffed shop, getting attention of several girls who were obviously there on a date. Boys exchanged distasteful glances between themselves, sensing Sirius to be an equal competitor that could easily give them a run for their money. "Y/N?"

You dared to say his voice softened upon seeing you. "Sirius."

Sirius' smile widened teasingly. It looked like the smile he would give his best of friends.

But you didn't want that. Not that you would tell him that.

He glanced around the shop once again before slipping into the free chair opposite of you. Without a care in the world, he stripped his snowy coat off his shoulders, his muscles tensing under the movements.

You swallowed.

"I'll have some butterbeer thank you," Sirius said, pulling out a generous amount of sickles for the waiting waitress you forgot was even standing there.

"And the lovely lady?" She mused, giving you a wink.

"Pumkin juice." You choke out.

Like a real gentleman, Sirius halted your attempt to pay for your drink with a raised hand and a wink.

Why does everyone keep winking?

You shook your head at the rogue thought.

"4 sickles young lad."

Sirius handed her the coins and she disappeared, leaving a trail of literal hearts whisking underneath her steps. "Talk about exaggeration."

Sirius' low chuckle at your random comment had you flustered immediately.

"So –" You both voiced at the same time.

"No, you first." You said quickly, brushing some misplaced strands of hair out of the way.

"You can go fi-"

You gave Serius the look you would usually give Remus and James many times on many different occasions; the one that said not to argue with you. Only this time it felt like a completely different look. It intrigued the stubborn boy even more; dragging him deeper into the pit of feelings he had for you.

"Fine," he said, casually twining his fingers atop the table. "I have a question."

"Um…o-kay."

He smiled at your nervousness and decided at that moment to just blurt out the question that's been nagging him since it happened. "What did you smell during potions yesterday?"

"Y-you mean when I smelled the Amortentia?" The strongest love potion ever created that had the ability to reveal ones biggest attractions with a simple sniff. “That potion?”

"Mhmm," he said. "If you tell me what you smelled, I'll tell you what I smelled."

"You must be bloody joking," You exclaimed. Almost everyone knew that you smelled someone. Not just the rain and roses. Someone.

Unlike with Lily, they had no idea who it was.

No one knew save for Lily who probably told James.

Who probably told Remus?

Remus, Peter…

Sirius.

A million thoughts raced through your head. What at first was a blind date will turn out to be the biggest prank the Marauders ever pulled on someone. The biggest prank in Marauders history. You were sure of it.

"I-I should go," you muttered, grabbing your bag and coat in a haste to get out.

Sirius' eyes went wide in alarm, "What are you doing, Y/N? Where are you going?"

"Away from you," You said sternly. "I don't plan on being your new plaything so just leave me alone."

"Woah, woah, woah. Why would you think that?" He asked with what looked like genuine confusion as he held your hands in a vise grip to stop you from leaving.

"B-because…" Words stopped coming once you realized.

Telling him the reason behind it would ruin everything.

"Because you like me?"

You stared at him in shock, eyes widened to the size of a quidditch snitch. No, a bludger. "I don't know what to say to that."

Sirius outright laughed at you and your attempt to conceal what you both already knew, "Look…"

You swallowed.

"I like you too Y/N."

"I know, so let's just forget this ever happen- Wait what did you just say?"

The two of you were, unbeknownst to you in that moment, holding hands atop the cute table, looking like a real couple at that moment to anyone who walked into the shop.

"I like you," He repeated slowly, more audibly for you to comprehend this time. "I know I've been a…"

"Bully," You butted in quickly.

"No I wasn't!"

"Severus begs to differ," You reminded.

"Whatever," Sirius brushed you off, tightening his hold on your two hands. Warmth seemed to come off him in waves, making it all the more comfortable to be in his hold. No wonder girls fawned around him. "What I'm trying to say is – the four of us were idiots, and you were the girl I thought I didn't deserve."

You almost melted.

"So, when I saw what James has with Lily," He confessed. "I wanted that…but with you."

"So why didn't you come up to me?"

"Thought you'd reject me," He said quickly.

"True."

The way he looked at you had you tumbling down your brain for word, "B-but you've changed… And I like you too Sirius."

"I'd like to take you out somewhere else," Sirius proposed. "If you'd have me."

"Of course," You smiled, for the first time freely. "I'd like that very much."

Never in a million years would you have guessed this would be happening; Sirius standing behind you, helping you with your coat…

And holding your hand on the way out.

"You still didn't tell me."

“Tell you what?”

"What you smelled in the Amortentia."

The question didn't sound so attacking as it did 10 minutes ago, and you felt like you could answer it with more ease. "You really want to know?"

"Yes, I would like that very much."

"Fine," You stopped somewhere in the middle of the square, feeling quite brave and bold. "You."

He didn't look surprised, maybe relieved more than surprised. The relief shone in his grey eyes, you could see it. His long black hair blew against the wind that swept through Hogsmeade in a wildly matter. Sirius seemed closer now more than ever as he gazed into your eyes. Whilst you probably looked crazy in the cold wind, the weather only seemed to compliment the once a big troublemaker before you.

"Good."

You creased your brows, "You didn't tell me what you smelled."

Sirius chuckled, "You of course."

Pleased with his answer, you let him do something you've been dreaming about for quite some time.

He kissed you.

The kiss felt electrical, making your body go haywire. Sparks, as cliché as they sound, they were there, present from the moment the kiss started and until it ended. Sirius had his warm hand against your cold cheek, bringing you closer than ever before.

You hadn't shared this with any other boy save for the one you were with right now.

You didn't have what Lily and James did because their love was theirs and theirs only.

Sirius and you will build a love of your own. Something characteristic to you two only. Here in Hogsmeade, or wherever in the world. A long life was ahead of you and you, now more than ever, felt like you could do anything.

Even pass the N.E.W.T.

Tags (general (all posts)): @fofisstilinski @short-potato @miranda0102 @httphiddlestan @caromichaela @xx-missunicorn-xx @jemmakates @theravenclawmarauder @httphiddlestan @tclaerh @chefdoeuvre

Tags (Harry Potter): /

Let me know if you want to be added to my Harry Potter tag list! My updated tag lists ♡

MASTERLIST

#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black one shot #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders era #marauders imagine #marauders fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter writing #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader

294 notes · View notes

spookysanta · 4 years

Text

braided. (c.e.)

Summary: she hates when he’s right, but she hates it even more when he knows he’s right and won’t shut up about it. or, he likes to do her hair more than she does.

Pairing: Husband!Chris Evans x Black!reader

WARNINGS: none

i don’t hate it anymore, thankfully.

UNEDITED

***

“Y’know,” he said as he entered the bedroom they shared from his shower, his waist wrapped in a towel, white steam trailing behind him from the hot bathroom. “I could ask what you’re doing, though I’m not entirely sure I’d like to know.”

“I’m not entirely sure I’d want to tell you.” His wife shrugged without missing a beat. She didn’t want to tell him that she learned a new hair-braiding technique on social media and decided to give it a try, only to stop halfway because her hands began to cramp.

“Well, it seems to me that you started on your hair and got tired.”

“Shut up.”

She hated how he just knew stuff.

And of course, she’d expected him to already have known what she was up to.

She didn’t have to tell him what was happening, because he just knew her. He knew that this would be bound to happen, especially now that she’s home full-time. When she isn’t working, she scours the Internet to find something new to do; today’s activity must’ve been hair related. She knew he would tease her for quitting her hair halfway through (like she usually does); but sometimes, she just loses interest, or her hands cramp up, she can’t help it.

“And here I was, about to offer my services to help. But no, you don’t deserve it since you’ve chosen to be mean to me.” His feet padded across the brown carpet floor over to their dresser to pick out clothes for an interview later in the day. “I was ready and willing to be the helpful husband.”

“Were you?” she retorted.

“Yup.” He discarded the towel around his waist, displaying his chiseled frame for his wife to see just because he could. He dressed himself, putting on a plain black button-up shirt and dark jeans despite the interview being conducted via video conference. “I was. I’d consider myself a nice guy, doll. I’m very helpful when I’m needed.”

He finally carried himself over to her, who was sat on their shared bed with her back against the headboard. He leaned over her tauntingly. “You sure you don’t want help?” he mumbled, lips brushing hers in a way that intimidated her.

“No.” she huffed.

“Fine.” He gave a peck to her bottom lip, standing up straight and heading toward the door. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need me…until then, have fun.”

He winked at her before exiting the room.

Did she mention how much she hated when he was right?

There aren’t many times when he’s just right about things, but when he is…it makes her blood boil. It’s not just that he was right, it’s the gloating that follows.

It makes her want to make him sleep on the porch.

After his interview—which had to have gone well, from the sounds of his infectious laughter coming from downstairs—she sent him a reluctant text.

To Chris:

Okay. Fine. You win. Can you come help me now? My hands hurt.

First, it was quiet. Then, there was a loud cackle that made her hands cramp more.

She heard his footsteps (along with Dodger’s, for obvious reasons) bound up the stairs. He let out a breath as he entered the room, holding back laughter. “You rang?”

She cut her eyes at him, but softened her eyes when Dodger jumped onto the bed next to her and rested his head on her thigh.

He moved her so that he could sit behind her, the bed sinking to accommodate his frame. She sat in between his legs. “Show me what you were trying to do.” He motioned to her phone that was tossed to the side.

She showed him a set of box braids that, to him, looked a little different that what he was used to. “Here.”

He usually helped her with her hair when she wanted to do protective styles like this—either she gets sleepy and she asks him to finish; or her hands cramp; or she gets bored; or he gets bored…

Regardless of why, the fact of the matter is now he knows how to do her hair and she planned to use it to her advantage—without the gloating, preferably, but she can only ask so much of him.

“Why do they look different than the other ones?”

“They’re knotless.” She replied. “I saw them on Twitter and tried to do it.”

“And…?”

“It’s too hard.” She groaned, plopping her head behind her on her husband’s chest.

He sat her up and looked at her hair. “You didn’t get very far.” He noted. She’d completed about four braids before he went to his interview, and since then, she’d only done two more. “How about we do the rest the way we know how, okay? It’ll go by faster.” He kissed her temple.

“Ugh.” She gave up. “Fine.”

“I know that’s not what you want—”

“At all.”

“—but you’re tired and I know you’re not going to help me until the end, and I don’t know how to do them the knotless way.” She felt him shrug. “Or, you can just have these four and be done.”

She nudged his chest with her elbow, making him chuckle.

He started reluctantly, first taking the rat-tailed comb and creating a part in the back of her head that spanned from ear-to-ear in width. She reminded him gently as she turned on the television, “don’t forget the gel”; and he knew all about the gel, by the way. The gel that smelled like heaven but was sticky and hard and was oddly fluorescent in color, and he had to use it because, “it keeps things neat”.

If it were up to him, they wouldn’t use the gel at all. But it’s her hair and what she asked for, and all he wanted was to make her happy.

Taking a piece of synthetic hair from its wrapping and folding one strip over the other like she taught him, he pressed it to the square part of her hair, braiding it into her scalp.

She’ll admit, he’s gotten quite good at it.

She won’t tell him that, of course—his ego’s already the size of Jupiter. But she will say, it’s a lot cheaper to have the two of them tackle the apparent feat of doing her hair as opposed to having to pay someone to travel all the way to their home to do the same job. In her mind, she was much more willing to spend the $80 on buying the hair and supplies, than the $250 (plus a generous tip) to pay one of her friends to do it.

He got on a lot easier than she seemed to. He completed six braids by the time Belle’s father was taken into the Beast’s castle; he’d done another five by the time Belle and the Beast played in the snow.

They made some conversation as he braided, but it was mostly her reminding him not to braid too tight. “It’ll pull when it’s time for them to come out.”

“I know, I know.” He replied gently, tapping her on the shoulder to hand him the gel when he needed more to lubricate his fingers.

Thankfully, these ones were were relatively large in size. Where they would usually be doing this all day, he was closer to being done in four hours. By the time he got towards the top of her head, Beauty and the Beast was over and she—much to his dismay—put on Age of Ultron.

Let’s be clear: she only puts on Marvel movies to fawn over her husband (and his castmates)—she already watched all the movies before they were married and knew their respective plots.

“Do we have to?” He groaned. “I’d really appreciate it if we watched something else.”

“Why?” she groaned back, mocking him playfully, reaching behind her and pinching his thigh. “You look pretty in your outfit.”

“You’d think so, huh?”

She laughed, watching the man that swept her off her feet quite literally fly through the air, his red, white, and blue shield in tow. Her eyes darted to the same shield that sat framed in a case in the corner of the room.

(He planned to move it to its own display in the living room, but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet.)

As if he read her thoughts, he mumbled to himself, “I gotta move that shield downstairs.”

“You said you were going to do it last week,”

“I meant to,” he turned her head to the side so he could start a new braid above her ear. “but I got sidetracked with work—I had meetings all week last week, remember?”

She nodded slowly in understanding, her head beginning to ache on her neck from having to remain still for so long.

She sat up straighter when she felt him get closer to the front of her head. She held up a mirror to see where his most recent part stopped, then she parted her own hair in the same way, taking pieces of synthetic hair and starting on the very front.

“Now you want to help me?” he laughed. “I’m almost done.”

“I needed a break.” She shrugged.

“I think four hours is plenty of break time, don’t you?”

“It depends.”

After another hour-and-a-half of them braiding her hair and debating—some would call it “bickering”—about why he wouldn’t dress Dodger up as Captain America for Halloween this year, they were finished.

She sighed, the tightness in her scalp irritating, but soothing in the same.

Her husband got up from behind her. Going into their bathroom, he went in the cabinet and took out a vile of oil, small and made of glass with a dropper for a lid. It was a combination of oils—some he’d heard of, some he hadn’t—that she liked to put on her hair to maintain its sheen.

He also took the time to grab her hair mousse and satin scarf, two other things that didn’t have much meaning to him until he married her.

He sat back on the bed. Wordlessly filling up the dropper, he dripped the oil onto her scalp, making her jump at first. He made sure to coat all her partings. Then he pressed his fingertips to her scalp, rubbing in gently the product.

“You okay?” he mumbled in her ear as he massaged her.

She nodded with a hum; her eyes closed in relaxation.

If there was one thing they enjoyed doing together, it was her hair.

He didn’t quite know why either. He liked helping her, yes; he liked talking with her as they did this, of course—but what was it about these kinds of moments that made his heart flutter?

There was something about massaging her scalp that made him feel closer to her. It was almost more intimate than sex, in his mind (which was saying a lot).

After a while, he stopped. She wanted to turn her head and whine to him to continue, but then she felt it.

She felt the cold foam on top of her head. Shuddering, she asked, “What’s that?”

“Mousse.” He said simply. “I’ll rub it in and then tie you up.”

She giggled childishly, “You’re gonna tie me up?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead. “But not like that. Not yet, at least.” He pinched her side, which was something he always managed to do to be playful no matter how full his hands were.

He ran the product all through her scalp and down the shafts of her braids, the irritation immediately relieved. When he finished, he tied her scarf over her hair, making sure it was secure but not too tight.

“There.”

She turned to him, resting her head on his shoulder softly and kissing his scruffy neck. “Thank you, baby.”

“You don’t have to thank me, honey. This is what I’m here for.”

That made her heart flutter.

They sat like that for a while—her resting against him, and his arms around her protectively, careful not to pull her newly-installed extensions that they—ahem, he—worked hard on.

“You still have to do your ends, doll.”

Ugh. She hated that part; she always ended up burning herself somehow.

“Yeah, I know,” she sat up and stood, stretching her tired muscles. Her shirt rose just a bit, her brown tummy on display.

He almost licked his lips in lust.

Almost. He was trying to behave.

“I’m gonna go boil some water.” She yawned, trudging out of the room and to the linen closet to get two towels—one to wrap around her shoulders, and another to dry the ends of her hair once she soaked them.

In the time it took for her to get downstairs and into the kitchen to set a pot of water on the stove to boil, he’d changed into his loungewear and followed behind her. He found her seated at the kitchen table, half asleep. He tried to be quiet, but he startled her awake.

“Sorry.” He said, sitting in the open seat next to her.

She yawned again, “It’s fine.”

He found it adorable that she always got so sleepy after they finished her hair. He didn’t know if it was because of her having to sit still for so long, or if it was the scalp massage he’d given her. He didn’t really care why, because that meant he’d have another excuse to cuddle up to her.

The water soon gurgled from the stove, its heat steaming the screen of the above microwave oven. She stood, wrapping a towel around her shoulders and going to the stove. He emerged behind her, deciding that he would do it for her (since she always ended up injured).

Holding the pot by its handle, he gently dipped the ends of her braids into the hot water, taking the other towel to wring the hair dry. He did this twice, making sure that all her hair had gotten submerged and wrung.

She held her breath, clutching tightly the towel around her shoulders. She trusted him, obviously, but she still was terrified.

It took him all of five minutes to finish. By then, her arms grew tired, so she was grateful. He dumped the hot water down the sink’s drain, setting the pot back on the stove to cool down before he washed it.

Meanwhile, removing the towel from her body, she continued to wring out excess water from her ends so that they didn’t drip when she made her way upstairs to clean up. “I’m gonna put these in the wash, okay?” she kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Alright, baby.”

She smiled, thankful to have this man in her life.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He replied, kissing her hair.

—

tags (from sign-up sheet): @justtwhst @lokisbitch27

other tags: @cyberdoshee @honeychicanawrites @lovlisumi

#chris evans x black women #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #add to masterlist

269 notes · View notes

deepdisireslonging · 4 years

Text

Chained to the Wall

The Reader and Elias are scheduled to sing together after winning the Intercontinental Title. One problem: Roman Reigns. When he threatens the Reader in more ways than one, she plans a way to retake control.

Pairing: Elias x Reader (Y/N) x Roman Reigns

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, SMUT, knife use (not fun), bondage, sub!Reader, dom!Elias, threesome (no M|M), oral (male receiving), implied further SMUT

Word Count: 2395

Note: Happy New Year! In true Lizzi fashion, this was supposed to post half an hour ago. @staff still hasn’t fixed that queing function. Anywho, here’s a fic I’ve been working on since 2019. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy!

You took a second to breathe. Never in a million years, except only in your wildest dreams, could you have foreseen the moment when you would be standing in the ring. Let alone with the love of your life about to sing in front of several thousand people plus more watching at home. Your next shuddered breath caught Elias’s attention. His brows furrowed with worry.

You smiled and covered your mic. “There’s a lot of people here.”

Elias mirrored your movement and covered his mic. “If you’re not ready…”

“No. I want to sing. I want to sing with you.”

He smiled at you and gave your hand a squeeze. The camera in front of you counted down the seconds until Elias, your partner and Intercontinental Champion, would begin his intro. He moved your hand to his shoulder, ready to play.

“Hello, I am Elias.” He couldn’t help but grin at the returned greeting. “Tonight, I have a very special vocalist joining me tonight. I’ve been trying to introduce their voice to you for months… she finally said yes.”

As the spotlight widened, the arena burst into a deafening cacophony. You beamed openly, knowing full well they would be booing you in a few seconds once the song started. It took more seconds than you were expecting, but you sang above them. Your voice was strong and you felt on top of the world.

Your mic, and Elias’s, and his guitar mic cut out. While you scrambled to check the receiver at your hip, Roman Reign’s music cut through the darkness. Elias kicked his stool out of the way and stood between you and the entrance ramp.

But Roman didn’t come that way.

You were tugged back, and a fist flew past your face to collide with Elias’s chin. When the lights came up, Elias was struggling to his feet and Roman Reigns was standing between you.

Faster than you could blink, Roman’s hand was around your throat. You squeaked in shock and Elias attempted to step forward.

“I wouldn’t if I was you.” Roman ignored the boos that filled the arena with a smile. Behind him, Jey Uso and Paul Heyman stepped into the ring to be further back-up. Not that he needed it. “I don’t have to snap her neck, but it wouldn’t take much to keep her from singing again. Just a slight,” he tightened his grip, “squeeze.” He watched amused as you tried to scratch at his hand. “Claws down, baby girl.” His eyes glinted dangerously at your second of hesitation. His fingers twitched. You dropped your hands down to your sides, holding them flat against your thighs to hide their shaking. Out of mic range, but loud enough so Elias could hear, Roman chuckled. “Always so responsive.” He ignored your glare.

“What do you want Reigns?” Elias was nearly flexed out of his shirt, muscles churning with ready energy.

“I want my title back.”

“That’s not going to happen, Roman.” Despite the momentary tightened grip on your throat, you wheezed out your statement. “And you know it.”

“Ooh. Using my first name. I must be in trouble.” He spun you around to hold your back against his chest. His swell of pride pushed into your shoulder blades at Elias’s thinly veiled rage. The threatening fingers against your skin kept your silent. “I will have my title back. And it’s coming back to me… tonight.” His rumbling chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. You gasped as his grip teasingly jostled you. “In the meantime, I think Y/N can hang out with me.”

“Like hell I will.” You twisted and pushed at his chest with more courage than you felt, not that it had much of an effect. Especially when his grip flashed to the hair on the back of your head, pulling you close.

“Fine.” He gave you a mocking nod. “I don’t think I have to say it, but just in case: do not interfere, Y/N. The consequences could be… showstopping to you or your accompaniment.” He released you.

You ran to stand between him and Elias. Roman chuckled. He gave you a nod, smirking and taking a step back. “I’ll see you both later tonight. My title will be on the line, and by the time the show ends, it’ll be mine again.”

Together, you stepped to lean against the back ropes, giving plenty of room for the Tribal Chief and his court to walk by. You never took your eyes off of Roman. Buzzing electricity pulled at the base of your skull. A plan began to form.

***

The sixty-plus minutes simultaneously dragged and flew by. There were too many things to do, and not enough time to ensure their completion. But each time you checked a clock or your phone, the minutes inched by, keeping you on the razor’s edge.

You brought it with you to the ring.

Roman had made his entrance. Patiently, he waited for Elias. When you showed up instead, wearing a thigh-length skirt and an icy glare, he frowned. You made it all the way into his space before he knew he was in danger. As the knife in your hand pressed against the underside of his jaw, he let out a surprised puff of air.

“You threatened my throat earlier. It’s only right that I return the favor.” Carefully peering around him, you added, “on that note, you also threatened my partner.” He surged forward, stopped only by the blade. “Stay,” you mouthed.

Roman closed his eyes with a growl as the ring bounced. He watched the Titantron on the stage. Elias quickly dispatched Jey and Heyman. They would not be a threat to the night’s title match. You lifted the knife off with a wink. They second you were out of the ring, you caught his eye again and bent the rubber blade in a mocking curve. Roman looked at the canvas to hide his smile. It was hardly the first time you had outsmarted him, but he could plan his vengeance for you later.

As for the match, there were several times you nearly leapt into the ring. Taking away the Big Dog’s back-up had backfired. Roman Reigns had been a champion many times over under his own skill. With Spear after Spear, it looked like he would be again. Elias held up admirably. Until the Guillotine Choke was locked in. Your partner would never tap out. And you would never throw in the towel, or a scarf or gauntlet, for anything. It was up to the referee. He called for the disqualification bell after you finally ran headfirst into the Gorgon Knot of limbs. Elias was knocked free. He sputtered and coughed back into consciousness.

On jelly legs, he met you on the ramp. You shoved the Intercontinental title back into his hands.

“Thank you, Dove.” He kissed the side of your head as you helped him back up the ramp. “I’ll meet you in your dressing room after cleaning up. For your special present.”

“Don’t clean up too much.” Winking at Roman, you returned your partner’s forehead kiss. “I have a feeling that present will just get ourselves dirty again.”

***

With the knocking at your door, you primped your hair in the mirror one last time. “Come in.”

“I thought I told you to stay out of it, baby girl.”

You spun, sliding across the wall before Roman could pin you into a corner. All too soon, he loomed over you. Beating on his chest did nothing. He caught your wrists and fought them above your head. Of course they bumped into the handcuffs you’d prepped for celebrating with Elias. That earlier chill down your spine returned under Roman’s dark grin.

He leaned his forehead against yours. “We’re gonna have fun tonight.”

“Funny. That’s what I was going to tell her.” Elias locked the door behind him, distracting Roman long enough for you to click the cuffs around his wrists. The Drifter hugged you close when you ran to his side. Roman further tangled in the chains, following you and kicking out at Elias. “Well done, Dove.”

“What is this?” Roman snarled.

“An opportunity.” You were bubbling with excitement. Elias tightened his hold around your waist to keep you grounded.

“Did you really think my partner didn’t tell me about your little trysts back in the day?” Leaning his body forward, he brought his cheek level with yours. “I don’t blame you for taking her first. I applaud you. But now she’s with the better man.” He ignored Roman’s struggle with the cuffs. “Here’s the deal: I can let you go and we can have a little rematch, or… we can both enjoy her little… melodies.”

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes drifted shut. Slowly, Elias tilted your head to the side with his nose, running it along your jawline. He maintained eye contact with Roman as he gingerly kissed your pulse-point. Your nails clamped around his wrist, dragging it to your throat. The tiny whimper that escaped your mouth made Roman’s eyes glass over.

A warm hand slid down the front of your body. The other tightened its grip on your throat. Dipping under the waistband of your jeans, Elias shimmied your pants down with your panties, baring you to Roman. At any second, Elias was ready to stop and release his rival. But Roman didn’t say anything. He was watching you. Watching your breath catch in your chest. Eyeing the sheen grow over your skin. Roman knew you were blissed out, and Elias hadn’t even started yet.

When he did start, you almost lost your footing. His fingers, well talented on his guitar, pulled through your slick. The only thing holding you up was the hand on your neck. You clawed at his jeans as sparks tingled through your nerve endings. Between your thighs you were dripping. It was running down your leg.

Roman wanted to lick it up. He settled on licking his lips instead.

Elias released your throat, sending you careening into orgasm. Before you could recover, he ripped off your shirt, and pinned you to the wall next to Roman. Both of your hands fumbled with his belt and his jeans until his cock was able to slide through your slick. He filled you slow and quickly enough to take your breath away. Tossing your head back, you bared your throat for his teeth to drag across your pulse point, reveling in the scratch of his beard on your bare skin. When you dared to open your eyes, Roman was there to fill your vision. His hair was plastered to his forehead. There was something… feral about the way his whole body leaned towards you, held back by only the cuffs on his wrists.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Elias stilled, but toyed with your clit to make you writhe on his length. “Especially when she’s so close to cumming.” To emphasize his point, he thrust roughly. You cried out his name. Roman thrust into the air. Elias worked himself to completion, taking you with him into bliss. Stepping back, he let you fall to the floor.

You landed right in front of Roman.

He couldn’t see. Not really. Not anymore. Only one thing was on his mind, and it was the same in yours.

“Please, baby girl.” Roman panted, licking his bottom lip.

A moment later, you were licking up and down his cock. Kissing the tip. And twisting the measure you couldn’t swallow with short strokes.

The wide, calloused grip of Elias pushed you further onto Roman’s length. The Tribal Chief maintained his glare for a minute. Then his eyes closed and he moaned deep in his throat. You sucked and hollowed your mouth, drinking down his length and humming and begging for a deeper taste. From your spot on your knees, you could just see his face contorted in pleasure. Pleasure that you were causing. You moved more. Faster. Desperate. Behind you, Elias still had his hand on your head, reminding you who had placed you on your knees in the first place.

With a strained roar, Roman was seconds from filling your mouth. When he strained against the cuffs, Elias yanked you off and up to your feet. He tossed you to lean against the spot where he just fucked you. Roman’s lip curled into a snarl. From his pocket, Elias pulled out the handcuff’s key. He stepped into Roman’s face, silently daring him between two options.

Your lovers glared at one another as Elias unlocked the cuffs. They jingled against the wall, empty. A second of silence glittered. Then Roman was on you, kissing you, clawing at you, instead of beating Elias to a pulp. He pounded into you, seeking the release he almost had. You were a vessel, a means to an end. And you were loving every second of it. He steadied himself against the wall, placing his mouth right next to your ear. Your skin rushed with heat to hear his sighs. The moans. And the desperate grunts as he chased your ends. For you were desperate for release too. You could hardly breathe with all the need coursing through you.

When it came, Roman shuddered and stiffened against you, pinning you tightly to the wall. You clamped your thighs around his waist, riding it out.

Elias was there to catch you when Roman rotated to lean against something sturdy. They sandwiched you between them. With your mind still spinning, you couldn’t tell who was behind or in front of you. It didn’t matter. They were both warm, and both had brought you to brilliant heights of delight.

“That went well.”

You hummed into the chest of whoever was holding you.

Roman rumbled above you. “That it did. Though I liked to fuck her until she can’t walk or-”

“I did fuck her that hard. She fell to your feet easy enough, didn’t she? Or didn’t you like her sucking your-“

Grabbing him by the beard, you tugged Elias down for a searing kiss. When you broke apart, he panted and needed a second to collect his thoughts.

“Round two back at the hotel?”

“Only if we really get to share her this time.” Roman arched an eyebrow.

They looked down at you as one.

It was going to be a long, lovely night.

***

More Roman Fics:

Such a Tease (S)

A Reflection of Us (S)

Back Hallways (AR, F, S)

Taste of Terror (S, Horror, Vamp!Roman)

More Elias Fics:

Chiffon in the Streets, Lace in the Sheets (S)

Jealous (S)

Fuck the Demon Away (A, S)

Full For A Song (S, Challenge Fic, Angel/Demon AU)

***

Masterlist

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @brianaraydean @chwehansol98 @fireflyfunhousetrash @laochbaineann @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @shieldgirl18 @tinyelfperson @writtingrose @xladyxfatex @gold--gucciempress

WWE Tags: @1dluver13xx @a-home-for-stray-stories @flightofthefantasies @livelifewondering @mother-forker @neversatisfiedgirlfics @racheo91 @roman-reigns-princess @scuzmunkie @secretagentfangirl @wrestlersownmyheart @thirst-n-bullshit @top-1-percent-blog

Elias Tags: @mrsbreezango @ohnojustimagine @secretagentfangirl @sixdegreesofsamson @team-elias @wrestlingbabe

Roman Reigns Tags: @danielle-ferrara @imagination-of-a-fandom-slut @it-is-reigning-men @littledeadrottinghood @mybeautiful-worldrrfics @savmontreal @stylesgirluk @theangelsfightwithdevils @vanity1385

#roman reigns x reader #elias x reader #roman reigns smut #elias smut #wwe x reader #dom!roman reigns #dom!elias samson #sub!reader #wwe fanfiction #reader insert

115 notes · View notes

honeyyui · 3 years

Text

Laito Appreciation Week 2021 - Day 7

✧༺♥༻∞ The final day is here!! It feels like this whole week went by so fast. ∞༺♥༻

To end things off, I wrote a fic! This is the first DiaLovers work I’ve ever done (and I’m still a bit of a newbie to publishing my writing online in general), so I’m kinda nervous but I hope you all enjoy!

I put it on AO3, and it can be found linked here.

This story is about Laito and Yui’s relationship. Be warned though, it isn’t meant to be happy, and it contains some potentially upsetting themes. Be safe!

Thank you so much @everything-laito for hosting this event. I had such a great time participating.

✧༺♥༻∞ If you don’t want to use AO3 for some reason, I’ll also put the fic below the cut of this post for accessibility's sake. It might be a little cumbersome to read on here, though. ∞༺♥༻

From a young age, Yui Komori already had a vague idea of what “love” was supposed to be.

She slowly picked things up here and there - from books where at the end of the story, the hero saves the damsel in distress, from songs on the radio filled with longing and sweet poetry. As she grew older, she learned of love from giddy classmates; girls gushing about their very own prince charming who would ride in on a white horse. They whispered of heartfelt handwritten notes and soft shoulder touches. Young. Innocent. Hopeful.

But most importantly, she learned of love from her father. He would tell her the same thing over and over.

Wait until you grow older. Meet a nice, upstanding Christian man at church. Wear a white dress. Get married. Raise a family. Be a homemaker. You will live the perfect life.

Every night in bed she’d get lost in thought. She’d created an idealized image of this elusive lover in her mind, falling asleep to the idea of a peaceful, pious life in the idyllic countryside.

Now, she had long since lost the ability to picture it.

Yui sat cradling him, panting and heaving. Streams of moonlight poured through the church’s stained glass and illuminated their bodies, which were covered in an intermingling sheen of sweat.

Through her desperate sighs, she spoke.

“This isn’t what I imagined.”

“Imagined?” Laito asked with a smile. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s not...what my father told me.” Yui still breathed heavily, her pale, quivering chest rising in a slow and painful rhythm.

He waited patiently for her to continue.

“Told you about what…?” Laito prodded at her with his words, as though looking to coax out any stray emotions bottled up inside. He cocked his head to the side inquisitively.

“Love.”

“He abandoned you.” Said Laito, stroking Yui’s now-messy hair. He brushed away a few slick strands that still stuck to her forehead, and tilted her head up by her chin so he could stare into her eyes. “What could he ever understand about love, hmm?”

“But-” Yui stuttered.

“I thought we were past this.” Laito’s spoke, his voice low and flat. He narrowed his eyes, and his grip on Yui’s face grew tighter.

She felt her breath catch in her throat. “I...I know. I’m sorry.” She gulped, repeating it once more for good measure. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okaayy, I’ll accept your apology...” Laito cooed, delicately trailing his fingers from her jawline to her neck, and then along her collarbone.

Yui breathed a sigh of relief.

“...If we continue.” Commanded Laito, pressing his fingertip into the divot at the base of her neck.

“More?” she said, shocked. Whining in dismay, she slumped forward, desperately reaching for a warmth that was not there.. “I’m so tired...I can’t…” She hardly had the strength to raise her hand to meet his. “You took so much… and it’s been hours…”

“Ah ah~” “Don’t you remember our vows?”

She felt his expression turn dark - his gaze boring into her core. Yui squeezed her eyes shut, and as she did she felt Laito yank her body forward and pull her in painfully tight. He held her so close that she could feel his breath against her ear. She felt as though she was suffocating; the smell of blood and sweat filling her mouth and nose and stretching its violent tendrils down her throat.

“Don’t you love me?’

His fingernails dug roughly into her shoulders; angry half-moon divots pressing themselves into her flesh.

“I...I do.”

“Good.” Said Laito. He ran his hands over her shoulders, tracing circles along her all the way down to her exposed chest, which was peppered with puncture wounds and bruises that bloomed in unsightly colors. “I love you. I love you.” He chanted softly, repeating it like a mantra. Deft fingertips explored Yui’s body with reckless abandon, poking at fading welts and prodding at old scars. He pinched her soft skin, eliciting the same reactions as he had time and time again without fail. Her body was a record for him to rewind and replay as he pleased. “I love you.” He whispered again, as if trying to convince not only Yui - but himself as well - that it was the truth.

Before she knew it, Yui’s body hit the floor as she was roughly shoved down.

She stared up at the church’s ceiling - a tall peak surrounded by walls filled with ornate stained glass and beautiful murals. Splitting into fragments, the bright moonlight still filtered through the intricate pattern and dizzying mixture of colors, dying itself ethereal hues. The light’s reflection bathed the floor in a deep blue glow, faintly creating the illusion that it was a vast ocean, threatening to swallow her up at a moment's notice.

Above the windows, she could see a weathering and faded painting of the sky. Billowy white clouds spiraled around and around, and cherubs and angels flew up towards the sun; hands outstretched gracefully, accompanying God at a golden throne and the grand gates to heaven.

It looked impossibly high from where she lay.

As Laito lifted her legs to her chest and pushed her down deep into that endless ocean of blue, she let herself become lost in thought.

Every day was similar. First thing after he’d wake up, he’d be all over her - in bed, In the shower, in the garden, anywhere. Anywhere and everywhere, any time he wanted. She’d obey his wordless instructions, melting into his carefully calculated touches and strokes. When he did speak, she let the praise and degradation blend together into a sickening mixture until her head went numb and she took it all in - fully and without inhibition. The crippling shame came later, though by now she’d long learned to bury it.

He’d tease her mercilessly, then fall silent when he’d had his fill.

One time, she begged for a kiss. A real kiss, not just one meant to satiate her complaints, or one that served to pacify and mystify her; not one that led to anything else, not one meant to be a formality that preceded torn skirts and trembling legs. The most she got was a quick peck on the forehead.

She learned to live with it. After all, this was what love was, right? Who was she to dictate the way he showed his love?

I have no right, she thought once, massaging her aching muscles and wiping still-damp tears from her face, to pass judgement on others.

When they loved, she’d get lost in the ache of his nails and fangs, and she’d scream until her throat went raw. It didn’t matter that she hardly got a moment alone - it served to help quell the feelings inside: the fear that someone else would rise to the surface and claim her mind when she was caught alone and vulnerable. At least he kept her occupied. Satiated. When she felt the pain of his love she felt something that uniquely belonged to her. She took the pain and became it.

Laito’s sharp, quick thrusts snapped her back to reality. She attempted to steady herself by pushing her arms into the floor, but her vision swam and she shuddered vigorously. Was it the anemia? Her heart? She no longer knew. Her body felt alien.

This is love. She told herself, his one hand around her neck and the other creeping its way to her mouth.

Before she could fully realize it, she felt a hot tear run down her cheek and spill on to the floor. Then came another. And another. By the time they had started, stopping them was futile. She moaned through her choked sobs.

“Why are you crying?” said Laito. “Wait, don’t tell me - you’re feeling sentimental about joining our bodies again in the place we married? In the place where you had your first?” He eased his grip on her and removed his fingers from her mouth, instead opting to drag them though her still-falling tears. He licked his pointer finger languidly.

“I DON'T KNOW!” Yui wailed. “I don’t know..”

He stopped moving, and stared down at Yui with hawkish eyes. “...You aren’t worried about God, are you?” Laito smirked, failing to suppress his amusement.

Yui smiled through her tears. “No... because I think he stopped watching over me long ago.”

Eventually, the moonlight faded and dawn crawled out to take its place. Fresh sunlight trickled through the glass and warmed the still, silent air. Yui had long since passed out, curled up in a limp heap on the floor next to her wrinkled clothing.

“Bitch-Chan,” Laito whispered, gazing at her sleeping body. “We’re going to have to go home eventually…”

Kneeling down to pick up her uniform, he dressed her, careful not to jostle her awake. He haphazardly tossed her skirt on - not bothering to zip it - and let her blouse bunch around her neck like an odd-looking scarf. He forwent her bra, socks and underwear - slipping the very latter into his pants pocket. Slowly, he slid out of his uniform jacket and placed it around her shoulders as a covering.

On the floor beneath where her clothes had been, sat a lonely rosary.

He watched her chest rise and fall softly a few more times before gingerly lifting her up onto his back. His calm footsteps echoed throughout the church.

Yui groggily woke to soft, rhythmic movements and the feeling of something fluffy behind her neck. Still half-asleep, she relished in the soft, warm feeling and listened mindlessly to the tempo of her own drowsy sighs.

“Eh? You’re stirring now?” said Laito.

In her state, she could hardly find the words to respond to him. She still wasn’t cognisant of much around her.

On vague instinct, she moved one hand to reach for her skirt pocket. Something wasn’t right.

“I think…” mumbled Yui. “I forgot something.”

“Really now?”

“I can’t remember…” she drawled.

Laito soothed her with a gentle “Go back to sleep. We’re almost home.”

Well, whatever it is, thought Yui.

If I forgot it, then it probably wasn’t that important.

#Laito Appreciation Week 2021 #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers #dialovers #fics #my fics

17 notes · View notes

toplinetommy · 4 years

Text

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Four) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 8.9k

Warnings: tyson still aint 21 and is drinking in some parts

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

September/October 2018 - Denver, CO

“Does Tyson know you have a boyfriend?” Caitlyn asks as you near EJ’s house. She sat next to you in the passenger seat, while her boyfriend, Josh, was in the back.

“Considering Aiden’s not my boyfriend, no.” You respond, turning right onto EJ’s street. Caitlyn shakes her head at you and you know exactly what she’s thinking since this is about the fourth time she’s brought it up.

“I just don’t get why you can’t tell Tyson you’re seeing someone, considering he’s your best friend and all.” She shrugs looking out the window at the big craftsman-style houses in the neighborhood.

“Because it’s still casual and it hasn’t really gotten brought up yet. I really don’t see the big deal.”

“The big deal is that the last time you and Tyson saw each other was at Gabe’s wedding when you guys had a moment,” She moves her hands in front of her, putting an emphasis on ‘moment’. You pull up to EJ’s house as she finishes talking, parking your car on the curb.

“It was a wedding, they’re full of ‘moments’,” You put finger quotations around moment. After the wedding, you had gone back to Denver while Tyson went back home to Alberta where you guys resumed your friendship like nothing had happened. The summer was spent with a numerous amount of FaceTime’s and sending memes to one another. Sure, the thought of kissing Tyson would occasionally pop into your head over the summer months when you especially missed him, but that’s exactly what you blamed it on. The fact that he had never brought up the almost-kiss gave you even more reason to do the same.

“I just think there’s a deeper reason why you haven’t told him that you won’t admit to yourself.” Caitlyn shakes her head as the three of you walk up the long driveway. The rest of the walk is silent until you walk in through the front door and are greeted with loud cheers at your entrance.

“Y/n Y/l/n!” Gabe cheers, lifting his arms above his head, a beer in each of his hands. You laugh at the sight and go to yell his name back to him before you notice Tyson whipping his body around at the sound of your name combined with your laugh. Tyson all about shoves his blonde captain out of the way to get to where you’re standing across the living room.

Both of his hands are also clasped around cans of beer, some of it spilling as he sets them down harshly on the nearest surface on his way to you. You shriek as he wraps his arms tightly around your torso, picking you up a few inches of the ground. He sets you down but the two of you stay joined before you’re the one to pull back from him.

“How’s my superstar been?” You ask, looking him over as you rest your hands on his biceps. He’s wearing a pair of chino shorts, his thighs filling them out from a productive summer and his biceps have a golden sheen from spending so much of his summer outside.

“Better now that I’m back in Denver,” He smiles, eyes shining as he also looks over your body. You’re sporting a pair of loosely-fit mom jeans with a scarf you wrapped around yourself as a DIY top,. Tyson looks over to Caitlyn and Jack who are standing behind you as they watch your reunion, saying hi to them.

“So there’s stuff kind of going on everywhere. A lot of people are on the deck and in the backyard playing games or in here enjoying the AC.” He starts, pointing around to the large group of people all around your small group. “You can put your alcohol in the fridge too, there’s one in the kitchen, obviously, but if it’s full you guys can use the one in the garage.”

The three of you nod at his suggestions before he’s dragging you outside to meet the new guys that were signed over the summer. Once the two of you make your rounds you settle into lawn chairs that are placed by the firepit in the back.

“How was your summer?” Tyson asks before bringing his beer to his lips.

“Pretty good, I actually had to work, unlike some other people I know.” You chirp, glaring at the brunette next to you in a joking manner. He rolls his eyes at your comment before you continue. “Besides, we talked like four times a week, you know how my summer was. Oh! Jack officially moved in about a month ago.”

“Oh really? I’ll have to get his number so he can hang out with the boys. Ya know, so he’s not stuck with you girls all the time.”

“Hey!” You exclaim with a spirited tone. “We’re a great time and you know it.”

“Yeah, with all your pop culture gossip and medical drama tv shows. You guys are a hoot.” He shrugs, Candian accent popping out as he speaks. He downs the remainder of the light-brown liquid in his can, before setting it down on the grass next to him.

You laugh in shock and give a shove to Tyson’s shoulder once he’s sitting straight up again, “Shut the fuck up, you know you missed it.” He coughs lightly, pretending to have choked on his beer due to your shove.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t miss it,” Tyson brings a hand to his chest in fake distaste. His gaze turns soft as his eyes focus more on your face, his eyes slightly squinting due to the harsh sun that was beginning to set past the horizon. The freckles that had appeared on your cheeks and shoulders due to the time spent in the sun, your hair was a little lighter from getting highlights recently and it was longer than he remembered it being, and most importantly the genuine smile he missed seeing in person. “It’s always nice being able to go home and see everyone, especially being able to be on the lake. It was harder than last summer, I missed a lot of people.”

“Yeah, but you get to see people you grew up with and live a little calmer.” You respond. Tyson had always told you his favorite part about his Candian summers was the calm pace of the season, a much needed contrast to the grinding he’d put in for a majority of the year when the NHL season would come around.

“Yeah, I get to see Dante, who by the way you need to meet whenever he comes to town, and some buddies on other teams,” Tyson points out. “I don’t know, I felt like part of me stayed here in Denver. I don’t know if it was just because I missed everyone or just because it’s so different from home or what.”

You nod your head in understanding, knowing how difficult it was to leave a place you called home for more than just a week or two. “I think it’s just because you’ve established a life here. No matter how exciting or happy you are to be back home, part of you will miss where you spend most of your time.”

“And the people I spend all my time with.” He adds, gesturing to the people occupying the backyard. You glance around, noticing Nate, Tyson, and Big Z playing Spike Ball, while some of the guys and their wives sitting around the table that was on the deck. As your eyes land on where Caitlyn and Jack are standing with JT and Sydney, Tyson’s eyes land on you, thinking specifically about how good it was to be back not only in Denver but to be back where you were. Even if it was only his second season with the Avalanche, he truly felt like he had found his place in Denver, both with his hockey career and with the friends he had made.

“Josty! Y/n! We’re starting flip cup, let’s go!” JT shouts at the two of you, pulling Tyson away from his thoughts. The two of you stand up and saunter over to the large table that’s set up on the grass where a large group had formed. Before you can say you’ll be right back and that you need to get a refill, Tyson is placing his hand on the small of your back letting you know he’ll grab drinks for the both of you.

“You and Tyson look like you’ve been awfully close since we got here,” Caitlyn acknowledges, nudging your shoulder with hers.

“We’re just catching up, we haven’t seen each other since July,” You answer shortly. A few more people join around the table as the two of you speak, all grabbing solo cups and filling them up for the game. Caitlyn gives you a knowing look and before she can say what’s on her mind you stop her, “And no, I didn’t tell him about Aiden. Stop bringing it up.”

She brings her hands up in defeat, knowing that if she continues to talk about it you’ll just get angrier with him badgering. Tyson reappears next to you, Bud Light in one hand for him and an Angry Orchard in the other for you.

“I haven’t played this since that time at the hockey house senior year,” You admit to Tyson, who’s pouring his drink into his cup as you crack open yours.

“Hopefully you’re as good as I remember.” Tyson chirps, thinking back to that night the two of you really met. With where your friendship stood now, it seemed like that day in North Dakota was ages ago.

“From what I remember - which isn’t a lot because I was blasted that night, you were terrible.” You laugh, a few of the guys on the other side of the table also laughing, hearing the chirp.

A numerous amount of rounds pass, Tyson consistently being the reason you lose, while you were the reason your team would win. The sun’s been long gone for a while, the source of light being the decorative string lights along the deck and yard. The slight chill in the air causes most people to relocate to the kitchen and living room of the house, a few retreating to the basement to play poker or video games.

You spend most of your night near Tyson in some way, whether it be directly next to him or in the same group until he disappears to join some of the guys downstairs. The late-night starts turning into the early morning and Caitlyn and Jack are letting you know that they’re getting ready to go home.

“I’ll text you when Jack and I get home,” Caitlyn assures you as she hugs you goodbye before heading for the exit of the house. You make your way to the kitchen to switch out your now empty cider for a glass of water, choosing to f. Once you fill your glass up, you lean against the counter next to the sink and pull out your phone to see the Instagram story Caitlyn had tagged you in. It’s a Boomerang of you and her clinking your drinks in a ‘cheers’ from earlier in the night. You share it to your story as well before bringing your glass to your lips.

“Getting tired already, eh?” Tyson reappears, choosing to lean against the counter next to you. His one hand is gripping his beer as he was one of the few people still drinking at this time of night. The still moment as you laugh with a scoff before responding oddly feels like you’ve been in this exact moment once before.

“Caitlyn just ditched me to go have sex with her boyfriend,” you answer. Your phone vibrates in your hand and you see that Aiden’s texted you back. The vibration pulls you from what felt like another world of thinking, and you unlock it pulling up your messages to respond to Aiden.

Tyson couldn’t help but notice the increase in your attention towards your phone throughout the night as you type out a response. Granted, with the time that it was, more people were seen on their phones than in groups talking or playing games. Most attendees were starting to quiet down and a few were making plans to head out. You were typing away at your phone with a small smile when Tyson interrupted you with a slight shoulder shove.

“What’s got all your attention?” Tyson asks curiously. You quickly place your phone face down on the counter beside you giving Tyson your full attention.

“No one.”

“Oh, so you got a someone then, eh?” He asks, quirking one of his eyebrows up.

“It’s just some guy.” You shrug. Some part of you still didn’t know how to bring up Aiden’s presence in your life to Tyson. Even if Tyson was just a friend to you, it still felt weird for a reason you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

His palms tighten against where they’re resting against the countertop the two of you are leaning back on, the joyful smile that was once on his lips disappears into one you can’t seem to read. Whether that be the alcohol you’ve consumed or just the simple fact that you’d never really seen Tyson look at you the way he was right now.

“Like a guy you’re seeing or?”

“Like a friend I’m seeing later.”

Tyson’s unreadable face turns into one of confusion as he mutters an ‘oh’ and looks back towards the expanse of the open kitchen in front of you two. He may not have seen you at all in the past three months from being back home, but that didn’t mean that you guys weren’t calling each other at least three times a week to catch up, so the mention of a ‘friend’ confused him. With that being said, he definitely thought that the two of you were open enough to let the other know if they were dating someone.

“His name’s Aiden, I kind of like him but we kinda just hang out at night if you know what I mean,” You spill.

Tyson swallows as he internally debates on whether or not he wants to directly ask you why you hadn’t mentioned this to him before or if he just wanted to skip over that whole part. He goes with the latter, “How long have you guys been talking?”

“Not that long, like a month?” You shrug your shoulders. Tyson doesn’t respond, partially from his slow reflexes that the alcohol in his system has caused and from the slight discomfort he felt about the news. “Oh, he’s here,” You announce as you read the text that pops up on your screen. You set your barely touched glass of water into the sink and start towards the front door.

Tyson pushes off the counter, following close behind you, “I’ll walk you out.” And if he had wanted to do that just to get a good look at the schmuck that was picking you up, you didn’t have to know. While we’re at it, he might have also suggested it in hopes that this Aiden guy would be intimidated by a different guy walking her out. He may not have been that tall, but Tyson knew damn well he was still leaner than most guys, and he had every intention of using that to his advantage

You nod your head at Tyson, walking around the house shouting to the remaining guys that you were heading out. As you get to the entryway and find your coat, Gabe saunters over to properly say goodbye.

“You guys heading out together?” Gabe asks, glancing between the two of you, a slight smirk forming on his lips. Tyson opens his mouth, no sound coming out at the suggestive question his captain makes.

“No, just me. My ride’s here.” You answer shortly, pulling your white sneakers on completely.

“I’m just walking her out,” Tyson says, almost as soon as you’re done speaking. Gabe nods his head in an awkward manner before turning on his heels to go back to what you assume is the group he was previously in.

You move towards the door and Tyson beats you there, even in his drunken state, and opens it for you. The two of you are greeted with none other than Aiden standing on the front porch. Tyson visibly puffs his chest out and pushes his shoulders back once he sees the man in front of him is in fact, much taller than him and very much the opposite of what he thought this guy would look like.

Aiden looks between the two of you, your body staggered right in front of Tyson’s as you say a quick ‘hey’. You turn around, going to give Tyson a side hug but he has other plans and embraces you fully. You hug him back, looking up at him getting ready to say bye when Aiden’s voice breaks your departure.

“I didn’t know you were partying at some mansion,” Aiden says, taking his hands out of his sweat pockets to point up towards the house you were gathered in front of. Tyson loudly scoffs at the statement and rolls his eyes. He was still in the early part of his career and he still hadn’t really gotten used to the whole other people making snide remarks about his lifestyle and career.

You pull away from Tyson, taking a step towards Aiden, “I told you I was hanging out with Tyson.”

“Not Tyson Jost and an entire NHL roster.”

Tyson holds back his scoff this time. He could already tell that if this guy was gonna be around much longer he was going to have to hold back making snide remarks. If he was already this intimidated and this annoyed with the group of guys you regularly hung around, he had a lot coming for him if he was planning to stick around.

You squeeze his bicep with one of your hands, choosing to not respond to Aiden’s comment. “I’ll see you on opening night?”

“Yeah, you will,” Tyson answers, smile starting to come back to his face. You nod your head and turn around to head towards Aiden’s still running car at the end of the driveway.

The energy at the Pepsi Center was electric, to say the least, and the city of Denver was excited to have hockey back. Especially after a disappointing first-round exit in the playoffs in late April. You had kept up slightly with the off-season news - mainly due to Caitlyn’s interest - and knew that they would have high expectations with the new additions to the team.

Caitlyn was adorning her MacKinnon jersey that she had owned ever since he was drafted while you sported the #17 on your back per Tyson’s request. He always joked about how you were one of the few people that even had his jersey due to his younger age to which you always scoffed and called him a superstar despite only being in his second year.

Your small group consists of Aiden, Caitlyn, her boyfriend, Jack, and yourself. The four of you had all decided to get tickets yourself and make it a sort of ‘double-date’ as Caitlyn described it. Jack wasn’t a huge hockey fan, but he was a huge fan of Caitlyn so he had borrowed one of Tyson’s hoodies to wear since they were a similar size. Aiden was what he liked to call ‘an average hockey fan’ since he knew a lot about his hometown Avalanche team and the big names of the NHL, while not knowing much about anything else.

The four of you stopped to get drinks before heading to your seats in the mid-level section. With it being the opening night of the new season, tickets were more expensive than usual so you had all opted for cheaper seats to save money. Besides, the four of you were planning on joining the team’s festivities after the game when they headed downtown to their usual post-game bars.

The game flew by, the Avs coming out with a 4-1 win. The dominant win only contributed to the already high level of buzz in the arena and the surrounding areas. The four of you took your time exiting the arena and heading downtown, knowing that the guys you were meeting up with wouldn’t be out for at least another hour. You guys had carpooled to the game so the four of you all jump into Caitlyn’s SUV before she drives down to the parking lot she usually parked in on nights out.

By the time some of the guys make it to the bar, the four of you alongside some other WAG’s reserved a section in the back corner for the large group. Cheers erupt as they all enter, a way of saying congrats to a great win to start off the season. Everyone greets one another before everyone starts to disperse slightly to get their own alcoholic beverages.

“You remember Aiden,” You shout to Tyson over the loud bass, resting your palm on Aiden’s chest.

“What’s up, man?” Tyson greets. He goes to shake Aiden’s hand which Aiden happily does, however, Aiden keeps his other arm around your shoulders making sure you stay tucked into his side.

“You guys had a great game,” You complement with a smile towards Tyson. His eyes are bright, and his cheeks are full as he opens his mouth getting ready to respond when Aiden makes a comment you wish he hadn’t.

“Sucks you had that penalty, though.”

Tyson grinds his jaw as opposed to making a rude comment. If Tyson really wanted to be petty - and he really did; then he would’ve made some comment about how he made more in one 60 minute game than he probably did in a month. You squeeze his hand that’s moved to your hip in annoyance, glancing up at him with a look that screamed ‘why the fuck did you say that’.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tyson announces, turning around on his heel and making his way towards the bar. You watch his body movement as he walks away, noting how nicely his grey slacks and jacket combo fit him.

“Why did you say that?” You turn towards Aiden, hissing up at him. “You don’t think that people already told him about his mistake? Ya know, like people that actually know what they’re talking about?”

“I know what I’m talking about,” He says easily, taking a sip from his IPA.

“Just leave it to the people that actually breathe hockey for a living. It was a rude comment to make, especially to my friend.” You say, continuing to look up to his face sternly. His face falters a little bit to an apologetic look before he says he’s sorry. Tyson reappears a few minutes later, joining you, Aiden, Caitlyn, Jack, JT, and Sammy. Instead of him coming back up to you directly, he steps to the side and jumps into conversation with Jack.

Caitlyn moves closer to you and Aiden, “So Tyson’s met Aiden then.” You nod your head at her in answer, sipping on your margarita as she gives a knowing look. The subject of their meeting just as quickly as it gets brought up and everyone starts talking about the game and how excited they are for the season. Anyone could tell - and especially the people that were around the team like you guys were; that the chemistry of this roster was something special.

JT comes up to a little while later, ditching Tyson and some of the other guys at the table, “So this is the new guy, huh?” He asks, his hand holding his beer pointing at the guy you had been attached to all evening.

“Yep,” You smile excitedly. “This is Aiden, Aiden this is JT. He lives with Tyson and Kerfy, who you haven’t met yet. Speaking of Kerfy, is he around?”

“Nah, he went back to the house after to see his girl,” JT answers smoothly. “When are you guys coming over? I always see your car over at Caitlyn’s but you haven’t stopped by at ours since we’ve been back. Come to think of it, I’ve barely seen you since Landy’s wedding even though I’ve been in and out of town since then.” JT takes a large swig of his beer, seemingly finishing it as he rests it on the nearest surface.

Before you can muster up an excuse about being busy with work, Aiden’s face flashes in confusion. “You live close to each other or something?”

“They all live across the street from Caitlyn, I thought I told you that when I told you how I knew everyone,” You knit your eyebrows in confusion turning back towards Aiden. Aiden’s confused face relaxes a little, thinking back to what was probably the third time you guys hung out when you had finally decided to tell him you knew a large portion of the Colorado Avalanche.

You notice a movement at the table most of your friends are sitting at, and watch Tyson as he stands up from the booth he’s at as he makes his way over to three of you, jumping into the conversation. His cheeks have a slight pinkness to them and the top few buttons of his shirt have been unbuttoned.

“So, Aiden, what do you do?”

“I manage a construction company out in Aurora,” He answers, his voice booming over the surrounding sounds. “I’m thinking of getting my masters in business administration, but I haven’t made a decision yet.”

Tyson nods his head, being somewhat intimidated by Aiden’s expanse of education, something he clearly lacked. JT asks him where he got his undergrad, Aiden answering him, and saying he went to Michigan State.

“Oh, no way! I went to Michigan.” JT smiles, which you mirror. You’re happy that someone seems to finally be taking an interest in Aiden and your relationship with him. The two of them banter about which school is truly better, and you hold back your opinion not knowing much about either school.

Both you and Tyson stand quietly, listening to JT and Aiden talk about the MSU/Michigan rivalry. JT asked about what it was like at MSU and Aiden had asked him about what it felt like to be a D1 athlete at arguably one of the biggest schools in the country. As Tyson listens he can’t help but notice Aiden’s empty hand and how it’s placed on your stomach, holding you back close to him. You notice Tyson’s eyes turn a little darker and his hand tighten around his glass as the two of them speak, especially when he sees Aidens hand flex where it’s placed against your stomach and you get a sudden wave of claustrophobia and shove his hand off of you and instead choose to interlock your fingers with his. Aiden shoots you a small look of confusion before you interrupt.

“I’m gonna go get another drink, I’ll be right back.” You announce, completely slipping our of Aiden’s grasp. The sudden feeling of heaviness surrounds you as you head towards the back bar, fully intending to order just water and calm your now ragged breathing. As you approach the bar counter and set your elbows on the slightly sticky surface, you turn your head to the group of guys you just left. You look at Tyson, the shortest in the group start taking a few steps in your general direction before Aiden places his hand on Tyson’s shoulder, harshly moving past him.

“You okay?” Aiden asks as he approaches you.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you let out. “I just got really claustrophobic out of nowhere, it’s probably the alcohol.” It’s not completely a lie, you did start feeling overcrowded, but it most definitely was not the alcohol’s fault. If you really thought about it, you were probably the most sober person in your immediate group.

“If you want to leave we can head out, I don’t mind,” Aiden suggests, placing his hands steadily on your hips. You lean up to him to give him a quick kiss on the lips before nodding your head no.

“We can have another drink, then leave. Sound good?” You muse. Aiden nods his head in response, ordering both of you new drinks before you head back over to your group. You notice an empty spot in the booth next to Tyson and decide to snag it, pulling Aiden by his hand to stand next to you.

“What are you drinking?” You ask leaning into Tyson’s ear.

“A rum and coke,” He answers turning to look at you, not missing where your hand is joined with Aiden’s. “So you guys, like, official now or something?”

You look up at Aiden before answering, who seems to be lost in doing something on his phone, “Yeah.”

Tyson nods his head in response, taking a large gulp of his drink. He stays quiet as he takes in the piece of new information, processing it all. The moments from Gabe’s wedding when he almost kissed you flashes through his mind before he takes his free hand and rubs it along his face. He moves his hand to his lap, preoccupying the other with the thin, black straw in his glass.

“He’s really great and I think you guys will get along,” You start in an attempt to fill in the silence. “We can all try to hang out sometime soon so you guys can get properly introduced.”

“That sounds great, YY/n,” Tyson says, eyes locked on the glass in front of him. There’s little emotion in his tone as he speaks and you start to wonder if you did something wrong. Before you can ask if everything’s okay with him, he moves abruptly,

“I’m gonna go get a refill.”

You stand up, moving out of the way so he can stand up and head to the bar and you look at his glass on the table that’s close to full in confusion. You sit back down on the cushion of the booth, pulling Aiden next to you as you watch Tyson move through the crowd. He goes in the exact opposite direction of the bar which has you knitting your eyebrows, and walks up to a girl you don’t think he knows by the looks of him introducing himself. You watch their encounter from afar, head resting on Aiden’s shoulder.

As the pair continues to talks, you look around for your immediate friend group, finding Caitlyn and Jack at the end of the bar closest to you and Aiden,

“I actually think I’m ready to go now,” You move your head from off of Aiden’s shoulder, placing your hand there instead. “You order the Uber and I’m gonna go say bye to Caitlyn and Jack.”

“Aiden and I are gonna head out,” You shout over the music. “Let me know when you guys leave and get home!”

“Of course, everything okay though? I feel like I haven’t seen you all night and when I did you seemed distant.”

“Yeah, just some anxiety,” You excuse, your gaze still heavily following on Tyson and his new friend. Caitlyn notices your distant stare and follows it, letting out a large sigh at the sight. If anyone in the bar was as close to you as she was, they too would notice the invisible lasers from your eyes to the second-year hockey player across the room.

You guys exchange silent looks before you wrap your arms around her, hugging her goodbye. “Lunch tomorrow, yeah?” You say pulling away.

“Sure, let me know when you guys get back. Love you.”

December 2018/January 2019 - Denver, CO

Walking up the snow-covered sidewalk to the Rookie House, trying to keep your balance as you hold two hot cups of coffee in both hands. Once you reach the front door, you grasp both cups in one hand, knocking on the door with the other. Tyson swings it open a movement later, a large smile on his face and making grabby hands at the coffee.

“Here’s your coffee,” you say, handing over both cups to him as you move to take off your shoes. You sigh out, “Wow, I feel like I haven’t been over here in ages.” Tyson had been out of town briefly for a game in St. Louis then had a string of back-to-backs all weekend so the two of you hadn’t seen each other much recently.

“Because we only see each other when we’re out or in group settings it seems,” Tyson responds as the two of you make way to his kitchen. If it weren’t for his playfully light tone combined with the small smile on his face as he looked at you, you’d think he was making some sort of accusation. “Thanks for the coffee, how much was it? I’ll Venmo you.”

“You don’t need to Venmo me, Tyson. It isn’t a big deal.” You assure, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

He grabs his phone from where it’s resting on the white counter in front of him, starting to tap away at the phone screen while he responds, “And it’s not a big deal for me to Venmo you.”

You roll your eyes at his playful response, “I’ll just send it back to you.”

“And I’ll just send it right back, two can play this game,” Tyson smirked. He sets his phone down, not bothering to Venmo you, knowing that you will in fact turn it into a war where the two of you are sending the same $4 back to one another until one of you gives up.

“What have you been up to? I feel like we haven’t had a best friend heart-to-heart in a while.” You start. You tuck one leg underneath you on the counter checking your Apple Watch as it vibrates. Ignoring the notification from Aiden you turn and smile towards Tyson’s standing figure across the island from you.

“Good, good. The team’s been rolling lately and the guys can definitely feel it in the air. I’ve honestly been having so much fun playing with them day in and day out.” He rambles, a smile on his face as he talks about arguably his favorite thing in the world. “Enough about hockey though, I already talk about 99% of the time. I’ve been learning some new stuff on my ukelele, I’m officially up to knowing four songs now.” He laughs lightly and smiles a little wider. He’s leaning over the island making the two of you seem closer than what you actually are.

“That’s awesome!” You exclaim, wrapping your hands around your coffee. “Do you bring it on the road with you? I can’t remember if you ever told me.”

“I did on our east coach trip last week, actually. I didn’t play it as much as I thought I would so I’m not sure if I’ll do it again,” He shrugs.

“Yeah, and it’s probably not the most ideal item to travel with,” You reason, shrugging at the idea of traveling with a musical instrument.

“What’s been up with you?”

“The usual, working a lot, spending a lot of time with Aiden, Caitlyn and Jack too.” You start, a smile making its way on to your face thinking of all the quality time you’ve spent with those closest to you recently. The smile falters as you look towards Tyson, who seems to have a distant look on his face when you mention those names. “I’ve been really happy lately, but I feel like we don’t talk that much anymore, which needs to change.”

“How about this: once a week we’ll have that conversation. We’ll just talk about anything and everything that’s on our minds and take time to just be heard.”

“Mark me down in your calendar then, once a week, Tys,” You agree, looking over at him. He could see the happiness on your face, even though your previous smile had faltered. He could see the gleam in your eyes that you always seemed to get when you talked about the ones you cared most for. He smiles too at the thought that you guys would officially get back to what was considered as part of your normal routine. He considered asking further about yours and Aiden’s relationship before he finally pulled the trigger, knowing it was polite to do even though he didn’t necessarily want to know the details of your guys’ relationship.

“How have you and Aiden been?” Tyson straightens, putting more physical distance between the two of you as he asks about your relationship.

“I met his family over the weekend.” You start. Your eyes are locked on the movement of your fingers playing with the sleeve on your coffee out of nervousness as you bring up the news to Tyson. You know Tyson wasn’t the biggest fan of him, even though it may not have been obvious to everyone since he was still always so friendly around him.

“Really?” Tyson inquires.

“Yeah, we went to his parent’s house for dinner on Sunday, it was nice.” You answer thinking back to what you would consider the next step in your relationship with Aiden. “I think they liked me.”

“That’s good, eh?”

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I don’t know. It just kinda felt weird, like I felt welcome and all, but I just felt like the vibes were off on my end. Someone made a comment that kind of stuck with me.”

Tyson raises his eyebrows in question, urging you to go on.

“I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard his mom and him talking about how if he thought I was his soulmate.”

“Oh? What did he say?” Tyson asked, tensing up in his seat. He too started fidgeting with the coffee in front of him as you continued to speak.

“He said he thinks I could be the one yeah.” You let out, a large sigh following. Silence surrounds both of you as Tyson takes in what he just heard come out of your mouth. You and Aiden had only been official for what some people would consider a short three months, so it was a lot for you to even take in when he had said that to you.

“C’mon y/n, you can’t seriously think that Aiden of all people is your soulmate,” Tyson suggested with a scoff as he moved to sit on the barstool next to yours, foregoing the cup of coffee on the other side of the island.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You bite, snapping your head to look at Tyson as he folds one of his legs underneath him. The casualness of his tone and his body posture only makes you angrier with his accusation.

“He’s clearly not your soulmate. Your soulmate isn’t supposed to constantly ask you to change or get annoyed by your quirks. He doesn’t like any of the guys on the team who are some of your closest friends! He’s insecure and is always bringing your energy down when he’s around.” He exclaims, his voice rasing as he continued to ramble.

“No, fuck this, I came over here to hang out with you because I haven’t seen you in a while, not for you to shit-talk my boyfriend. You’re just too immature to understand all of this and how important it is to me.” You say, shaking your head looking at him in disbelief at where all of this is coming from.

Not even a sliver of silence is allowed between the two of you before he speaks, “I’m just trying to get you to see what literally everyone around you sees! No one thinks he’s good for you.” His voice only continuing to rise as the words feel like they’re cutting you open with how harsh he’s speaking. You’re pretty sure this is the first time you’ve heard him use the tone he’s using to not only you but to anyone.

“Oh, good, well I’m glad everyone is going around my back to talk about my personal relationship and how they feel about it. That’s great, Tyson.” You throw your hands up in the air, before rubbing your face with them.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean it like-“

“If you didn’t mean it you wouldn’t have said it. Simple as that.” You affirm, lowering your voice as you stand up from the island. You grab your phone and your keys, heading for the door while Tyson is still in shock at your abrupt movements. He snaps out of it as he hears the rustling of the nylon on your winter coat as you pull your arms through it. You hear the harsh slide of the barstool across the hardwood floor as he takes long strides over to you.

“Do you love him?” Tyson asks in a soft but still firm manner, his facial features relaxing a little. It’s a simple yet loaded question that really makes you think as you take a step out of the front door. With one foot on the welcome mat and one hand on the outside doorknob, you glance at Tyson once more. Instead of answering him, or even saying anything that closely resembles a goodbye, you turn around and start walking down the sidewalk to your car.

As you step into your car, you glance back up at the front door, noticing Tyson still standing in the open doorway. Both of you are frozen for a moment and you see him scratch relentlessly at his arm before you take your eyes away from him and fully enter your car. You could hear the faint sound of the front door slamming before you turned your keys in the ignition and started heading home.

Do you even love him?

The question lingered heavily in your head ever since Tyson asked you that when you guys last talked. The question felt even heavier as you sat on your couch next to Aiden, the two of you eating Chinese take-out and catching up on The 100. You had felt content with him this whole relationship, and as you thought deeper you realized that was all you felt. Content with your relationship and the attention that came along with it.

He noticed the blank stare that was on your face as you continued to push the mixture of rice, broccoli, and chicken around on your plate. Aiden moved to place his hand on your sweatpant covered knee to grab your attention to which caused you to snap your head in his direction.

“You good?” Aiden swallows. “You’ve had this blank stare for at least, like, five minutes.”

You bring your fork up to your, eating a mouthful of rice before you set your full plate on the coffee table with a ‘clink’. You maneuver your body into the corner of your couch so you’re body is facing his.

“Do you love me? Or like, are you falling in love with me?” You ask, deciding to be straight forward to avoid as little confusion as possible.

“Why are you even asking me that?” He asks in an accusatory tone. He mirrors your previous actions and sets his plate on the table next to yours. “I just took you to meet my family last week, why wouldn’t I think this is where this relationship is going.”

“I just feel like that’s not where I see it going.” You admit. Aiden stares at you, dumbfounded by your sudden admission feeling. His mouth is slightly agape, not knowing exactly what to say before his upper torso stiffens. “I was just thinking and I just feel stagnant with where our relationship is and I’m sorry to say it but I don’t think I’ll fall in love with you.

“Is this because of Tyson?” Aiden accuses, questioning the real reasoning behind this conversation.

“What? No!” You exclaim, shocked by the accusation. He knew the two of you were best and friends and knew the history of your relationship with him. You had no idea where the accusation was coming from and before you could ask, Aiden stands from his spot on the couch.

“You clearly don’t see it then, but okay.” Aiden closes, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch and shrugging it on before walking out of your apartment with a light slam of the door.

You stand there for a few more minutes, taking in all that had just happened, and taking in the sight of his half-eaten Chinese. You’re not really sure what to do, and you’re not entirely sure you should feel this normal after breaking up with someone. Pulling out your phone, you check the time before deciding on calling Caitlyn. She picks up on the second ring with a cheery hello before you start.

“Aiden and I just broke up.” You state simply, little to no emotion laced in your tone.

“What? Are you okay?” She asks in shock.

“Yeah, I guess,” You start. You put the phone on speaker before setting it down on your kitchen table and start picking at your nails. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“The second he walked out of the door I wanted to call Tyson, no offense, but I haven’t talked to him since our fight the other day.” You admit, biting on your cuticles.

“Y/n,” She says, dragging out your name.

“Can I come over?” You ask, already going over to put your shoes on.

You arrive at Caitlyn’s house not too long later, letting yourself in and dropping to her couch with a loud groan. ”I’m so over this whole finding your soulmate thing.” Caitlyn laughs, walking into the living room from her kitchen, bottle of tequila in one hand, and a mixer in the other for you. She hands both to you as you take a pull from the tequila before taking a large sip from the mixer.

“Is it bad that I wanted to talk to Tyson the second Aiden left?”

“Uhm, I don’t think so,” She starts to reason. “I mean, he’s one of your best friends. I think it’s pretty similar to you calling me.”

“I guess,” you softly respond. You clasp your hands in your lap, picking at your cuticles, pondering the events of the past hour. “Whenever Tyson had asked me if I loved Aiden, the question hadn’t left my brain, and honestly, I’m really glad he did ask me.” Caitlyn chooses not to respond, instead staying quiet and letting you say anything that’s on your mind

“Before he left he said I don’t see it with Tyson?” You ask, infliction in your voice. “Do you know what that even means?”

Caitlyn thinks as to what Aiden could have possibly meant by the statement. She clearly has an idea as her face twists in what seems to be confusion. Her mouth opens and closes before she finally speaks, “I think that it could mean a lot of different things, but you need to figure out what it means on your own. Have you talked to Tyson since you guys got into that fight last week?”

“He texted me and apologized and I said I was sorry for just walking out on him like that, but other than that, no. I miss him.” Suddenly, the emotions you lacked feeling in the span of the last hour came flooding to you and your eyes glossed over at the thought that the last time you saw Tyson you yelled at him. You sniffle, trying to hold back the actual act of crying and Caitlyn scootches her body closer to yours. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and you rest your head on her shoulder. At the very moment you open your mouth, a sob comes out of your mouth instead of words.

“I haven’t watched any of his games and I’ve been looking at his stats and he’s been playing like shit.” You let out through the break-in your cries.

“Oh, y/n, you know you’re not the reason behind that. I watched some of the games and the whole team hasn‘t been playing very well, not just him.” Caitlyn assures you while moving her hand up and down your shoulder in comfort. “Why don’t you call him when his game ends. He’s in Ottawa, yeah? They’re two hours ahead so you’ll still be up.”

By the time the game ends - and when your eyes are dry, the Avalanche lose to Ottawa 5-2 and you give it about another hour before you check Tyson’s location on Find My Friends to see if he’s at the hotel. You see that he’s there and you pull up his contact, thumb hovering over the call button.

“You got it, Y/n, there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Caitlyn reassures you. “Do you want me to stay or leave the room?”

You let her know she’s good to leave and do her own thing and you press the call button, bringing the phone up to your ear. To your surprise, the line only rings once before you hear the click on Tyson answering.

“Hey,” You say softly, breathing out a huge sigh of relief now that you’ve gotten this far.

“Hey, I’m sorry-”

“No, I’m the one that should be sorry, Tyson,” You interrupt.

“I’m sorry too, but it’s the past now, yeah?”

“I am though, sorry. Me walking out like that wasn’t right and calling you immature was even worse. You’re the exact opposite and I hope you know that. You were just trying to help me see what everyone else saw, and I get that now.” You admit. Your anxiety about the situation starts to ease a little bit as you get the apology off your chest.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I just yelled at you of nowhere, it was unnecessary,” Tyson also apologizes. “Wait, what do you mean you get that now?”

“Oh, uh, Aiden and I broke up,” You answer. “Today, actually.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyson responds softly.

“Don’t be. You were right, I didn’t love him and I didn’t see myself ever loving him.” You answer with a shrug. You feel much lighter now that you’re saying all of this out loud for the second time and especially feeling better now that you’re talking to your best friend.

“It still sucks.” He mutters back. The line goes quiet for a bit, the only sound either one of you can hear is the scratchy breathing through the phone. “I missed you.” He admits, breaking the silence.

Just with that statement, you can feel yourself get emotional all over again, your previously dry eyes turning glossy again. “I missed you,” You hiccup.

“Hey, are you crying?” Tyson asks, sitting up further in his hotel bed.

“No,” you lie, wiping away at the few tears that and running down your cheeks.

“Don’t do that,” He says, and you can picture him scrunching his eyebrows together as he speaks. You let out a breath and smile a true, genuine smile, for probably the first time in at least a week. “I’m actually really glad you called. I needed to talk to you.”

You hum in question at his statement, urging him to go on.

“So, I’ve been playing like a literal pile of dog shit lately and before you interrupt me to tell me I’m not, don’t. I’m playing terribly.” He starts, and you’re pretty confused as to where this conversation is headed. “I, uh, got pulled aside after the game. I’m getting sent down to the AHL when we get back to Denver.”

“Oh my god, Tyson,” You respond in surprise, voice barely above a whisper. Your body jolts to the edge of the couch to sit straight up as you bring your free hand to cover your mouth in shock.

“It’s okay, it happens to a lot of young guys. I just have to go down there and work my ass off to be brought back up.” Tyson says, but you

“Still, that’s a lot to take in. Do you know how long you’ll be there?”

“No, coach said he thinks I’ll be back soon as long as I can prove myself to be a higher caliber player,” He continues. “Our team’s in Loveland, too, so I’ll be able to still stay at my house. I'll just have to commute more.” The uncertainty in his voice makes you anxious, and you know that he’s more upset with himself than he’s letting on.

“Like I always say, you’re a superstar and everyone knows it. You’ll be back in no time.” You assure him as you relax back into the couch.

“Thanks, y/n, I appreciate you being here for me. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” You smile, silence falls between the two of you again and you hear him yawn on the other side of the phone. “I’ll let you get some sleep, Goodnight Tys.”

“I’ll see you when I get back, right?”

“Of course, love you.”

“Goodnight, y/n, love you.” He responds, the simple phrase causing your smile to widen and butterflies to appear in your stomach. You were happy you had your best friend back.

tag list: @REAVENEDGES-LIES @oilers2997 (if you want to be added just let me know)

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost #alex writes #ybtmastm fic

98 notes · View notes

alloftheimagines · 5 years

Text

billy hargrove | heaven-sent | part twelve

masterlist | series | part eleven

words: 1.5k

warnings: swearing, smoking, hints towards abuse

summary: she’s an angel. he may as well be the devil. one would not exist without the other.

Frances awakens to the blinding midday sun washing out a clear blue sky, and she rubs her eyes in an effort to wake herself up. Beside her, Billy snores lightly, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, his lips puckered ever-so-slightly.

The heater is still on full blast, and his cheeks are flushed, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. She untangles herself from the heap of blankets and turns it down, careful not to wake him.

Then, she remembers why she is here. Hopper. El. They're still gone.

She unfastens her seat-belt and opens the passenger door as quietly as she can. One foot is out when a low rumble sounds from Billy's chest.

"Runnin' out on me while I'm sleepin', angel?" He squints one eye open, his lips curved into a smirk. "That's cold, even for you."

She groans quietly. "Figure you'd be used to it with all the girls you take home."

"Ouch." His arms emerge from his blanket and he stretches with a silent yawn. His hair is flattened from leaning against the headrest for so long.

"You shouldn't have let me fall asleep," she scolds.

"You needed it," he counters, throwing the blankets in the backseat. He no longer wears his jacket, and Frances watches the way his muscles ripple beneath his white shirt. "You wanna see if your dad's home yet?"

"You don't have to keep doing this, Billy," she says quietly, timidly, as she leans back into the car and shuts out the cold. "I'm sure you have better ways of spending your Sunday."

"Undoubtedly, but if I let you out of my sight again, you might have another breakdown and wander the woods like a madwoman." His voice is light as he turns the key in the ignition. "It's no problem, Fran, really."

"Okay," she nods, clipping her seat-belt on again. She doesn't have it in her to argue, especially since her legs are stiff from a day spent wandering all over Hawkins yesterday. "Let's go."

* * *

Despite the circumstances, there is something peaceful about riding in the car with Billy in daylight. Frances's eyes drift dazedly, following each tree they pass, each car that passes them, in an attempt to distract herself from the heaviness in her chest.

Billy taps the steering wheel restlessly, his eyes still swollen with sleep. They have already checked the trailer, and Frances made him wait in the car a few miles back while she checked the cabin in the woods, muttering an excuse about a hunting spot.

"If I ask you why you sleep in here sometimes, will you tell me?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"I told you last night," he replies dismissively, looking out of the window to avoid eye contact. "My house is a shit-show."

"Why?"

He hesitates. Frances sees his blue eyes icing over and she knows before he speaks that she won't be getting an answer. "Just is, alright?"

She nods in understanding, licking her dry lips nervously. "The trailer is empty most nights save for me. You're welcome to use it if you need to. You don't need to stay in your car."

"Am I your charity case now, angel?" he growls, jaw clenching.

She exhales in annoyance. "That's not what I meant."

Her gaze falls outside again, and it freezes there as they pass one of the fields. In the middle of it, sticking out of a thick patch of woods, is Hopper's car.

"There!" she exclaims, urgency causing her voice to rise. "Pull over at this farm. That's my dad's car."

He obeys, taking the next turn down into a narrow lane, where the overgrown branches scratch against the windows. Frances is suddenly glad that it is daylight.

The lane leads to one of the old farms, though there are no animals around save for a couple of horses in the stables. Frances's heart begins to race, and the car has barely stopped before she climbs out of it.

Merrill Wright, the owner of the farm, is standing beside his tractor, chewing on tobacco as he watches the Camaro pull in with only slight interest. There's no sign of anyone else here, her father or otherwise.

"Mr. Wright," Frances greets as she approaches him quickly, motioning to the chief's parked car across the field. "Is my father here?"

She can hear Billy's heavy boots crunching on the gravel as he slams the door shut and follows behind her. In a minute, he is beside her, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Wright eyes him wearily.

"Naw, I haven't seen your daddy. Sorry, Frannie."

"But his car's right there," she pointed desperately, her heart falling into her stomach.

Wright shrugs, shielding his eyes from the sun and scratching his head. "It's been here since yesterday afternoon. No sign of Hop, though. Strange. I called it into the station earlier."

"What did they say?"

"Their guess is as good as mine: they got no clue where he is." Guilt flits over his expression when he realises his own insensitivity. "Look, I'm sure he's fine. You and your boyfriend here wanna come in for some late lunch?"

Frances shakes her head, saying, "He's not my boyfriend," at the same time that Billy mumbles, "We're not together."

"Thought he didn't look nothin' like your Byers boy," Wright states. "Anyhow, you hungry?"

"No, thank you." Frances pastes a shaky smile on her face, ignoring Billy's scowl at the mention of Jonathan. "Do you mind if I have a look around the car?"

Wright gestures to the field with raised eyebrows. "Be my guest. Watch the smell, though. The damn pumpkins are rotting."

Frances is about to set off. Now she stops, frowning. "Wait, what?"

Merrill nods frantically, his lips curling in anger. "I told your daddy a couple a'days ago that that damn Eugene has poisoned my crops. I expect that's why he stopped by. Why he left his car here, I'll never know."

"Eugene?" Billy asks on behalf of both of them, slipping a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it.

"Owns the farm by the lake. Had the nerve to accuse me of contaminating it, then mine here goes the same way the next day."

Frances and Billy share a bewildered look before Frances looks back at her fathers car, sitting lonely in the field. "Thanks, Merrill. We won't take too long."

"No skin off my back either way. Take all the time you need."

Frances shoots him a grateful smile before heading across the field. Her sneakers sink into the mud, the smoke from Billy's cigarette curling around her as he catches up with her. "I feel Sorry for your dad, havin' to deal with small town hicks paranoid about some conspiracy against their damn crops."

"That and underage drunk drivers, right?"

"Lucky he didn't have to deal with me."

She rolls her eyes.

"You didn't tell him," Billy points out after a moment, puffing his cigarette again.

She stops, turning around in confusion. "What?"

"The farmer. When he mentioned Byers, you didn't tell him he's not your boyfriend anymore."

"I have bigger things to worry about," she says, her face deadpan.

His usual smirk dances on his lips, but in his eyes something darker than just teasing glistens. "Yet you had no problem correcting him when he assumed I was your guy."

She scoffs, shaking her head. "You did the exact same thing."

He shrugs it off, adjusting the collar of his jacket. "I'm just sayin', it's interesting is all. Where is Byers, anyways? Shouldn't he be the one helpin' you with all this?"

Distracted, Frances covers her mouth with her scarf as they reach the infected plants. Merrill had been right: the pumpkins are turning a tar-like shade of black, sinking into the festering soil. The smell is the worst part of it though: it reminds Frances of decaying corpses, causing nausea to settle in her stomach. She swallows to keep down the bile.

"Jesus," Billy coughs, stubbing out his cigarette so he can cover his mouth. "Smells worse than the cow shit."

Frances ignores him, pressing her forehead to the car's glass and peering in. It's empty, her father's coat left abandoned on the seat. There's still a light dusting of frost on the trunk and windshield, proof that it hasn't been touched since this morning.

"You think he went into the woods?"

"I don't know," Frances replies, eyeing the mass of tall pines in front of her. The rotting is endless, the twisting, mouldy vines disappearing deep into the forest. "Worth a look."

Even as she says it, she knows she will not find him. Her chest is tight as she fights for each breath, Billy leading the way into the trees. The pumpkins explode beneath her feet, green and grotesque. She falters when they come to a spade stuck in the ground, though there is no hole in sight. The ground looks the same here as everywhere else: damp and untouched.

She kneels, running her hands over the soil. Her fingers come back black.

"Is that your dad's?" Billy questions from behind her.

"I think so," she whispers. Flies buzz metres away from her on the vines. Something sticky and grey and eerily familiar clings to them, something that makes her feel cold right to her bones. She touches it and an emptiness rolls over her like a violent, black wave.

"I think I know where he is."

200 notes · View notes

kumeko · 4 years

Photo

A/N: I’m having fun writing this. Part 3 of the @marveltrumpshate fic I wrote for @wombatking

Summary: There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am, to an empty room, with an empty bathroom, and the kitchen all to herself. Kitty hit the jackpot.

…

There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am. Absolutely luxurious. Kitty wanted nothing more than to sprawl over her bed, languidly stretching before she finally rolled off. Unfortunately, her right leg was a dead weight to all of this, so she had to settle for lazily yawning and spreading her arms above her. The birds had been awake for hours, her dormmates equally so, and she had the most glorious sleep. She hadn’t even noticed when Rogue had left for training, her roommate for once not waking her up with her extensive morning prep.

For a girl who claimed that she didn’t care what others thought of her, she spent an awfully long time in front of the mirror. Kitty chuckled at the thought. Rogue was full of strange contradictions and the more she learned, the more she liked. It was strange to think that at one point they’d fought like cats and dogs.

Well, if Kitty were honest, they still fought sometimes now, but they always made up after.

It was harder than she expected, to get off the bed. Her leg felt weird, her movements even more so—her legs didn’t feel in sync, her left far too light and quick, her right too slow and heavy. Walking was a strange hop and dance. Dressing even more so. She half-wished she had Velcro pants, like the ones Spike used for his stupid “my pants ripped off!” joke. The only problem was that they were ugly. On the bright side, she was more than used to putting a little pain in for her fashion.

As she passed by a window, she caught sight of Jean and Amara running through the obstacle course, sweaty and tired. “Glad that’s not me,” she murmured, grinning as she stepped into the for-once-empty bathroom.

She’d been wrong. The best part of her broken leg wasn’t sleeping in, it was the fact that there was no rush. No one knocked on the door, asking her to get out. Kitty didn’t have to bounce impatiently on her feet, waiting for the door to open so she could rush in. Nope, the bathroom was all hers, for however long she wanted.

So was the kitchen, so was the tv—if she’d realized how good it was, she’d have broken her leg ages ago. Maybe in six weeks she could break the other one. Chewing on a piece of toast, she idly flipped through the channels. News, weather, Say Yes to the Dress, Psycho—

“Ready to go?” Scott said, suddenly appearing behind her.

Kitty almost dropped her toast, surprised. Instinctively, she turned off the TV, flushing a bright red. “I, that—” She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling flustered. This was fine! Technically allowed! No one expected otherwise!

Yet it was one thing to relax when no one was around, and another to do it in front of her slightly sweaty housemate. Scott’s hair might be carefully combed, but his skin still had a light sheen to it from all the exercise. Noticing her stare, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

He’d always been a slightly dense brick. Fighting back her embarrassment, Kitty scarfed down her toast and stood up. “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

“Alright then. I pulled my car up front, so just slip in.” Scott picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “You know, instead of a reality show, you should try watching the news.”

If Kitty could have, she would have stomped to the car.

-x-

“Hey girl!” Kitty got no other warning before a pair of slightly tanned arms wrapped around her neck, hugging her tight. Tabitha pressed her cheek against Kitty’s, her messy hair tickling her neck. As usual, her perfume was as loud as she was. “Heard you got hurt.”

“Tabitha!” Kitty laughed, leaning into her friend. She’d been getting lonely anyways, sitting in the playground as she was. Kurt had gone to get lunch and unfortunately the track team wasn’t practicing, so she couldn’t even stare at them. “Did Amara tell you?”

“Didn’t have to, I have eyes.” Tabitha let go and rested her hands on her hips. “I hear Blue is now two for two for training accidents?”

“It was my fault this time, not his.” Kitty rubbed her neck sheepishly. To be honest, the other time hadn’t been entirely his fault either—Tabitha had a little to do with it. Gesturing at her leg, she explained, “I broke my leg, so now I’ve got that ugly thing.”

“I know training sucks, but I didn’t think you’d go that far to get out.” Tabitha whistled as she saw the cast. “Damn, that’s clunky.”

“I know, right! It’s like I have snowpants or something.” Kitty rapped on the top of her cast. “It’s so thick! I don’t want to know what’ll smell like after all of this heat.”

“You’re lucky it isn’t summer, or you’d be roasting in it.” Tabitha scrunched her nose, her lips curling with disgust. “Broke my arm once, on a job, and not only was I utterly useless after, I reeked like Toad.”

“Seriously?” Kitty didn’t have to ask to know what sort of ‘job’ she was referring to. Wincing, she looked at her cast again. Tabitha had to be exaggerating, right? “It’s not that bad, right? I can’t get it off for six weeks. I don’t want to deal with smell on top of everything.”

“Just spray some perfume on it.” Tabitha winked. She mimed spraying it on. “Works like a charm.”

“Eww.” Kitty glared at the offending cast, her heart sinking. Just how stinky could the thing get? She groaned. “So either I smell like Toad or a flowershop.”

“Hey, the choice is yours.” Tabitha grinned, shrugging. “I bet Logan won’t like either smell.”

“I don’t think Rogue or Kurt will like it either.” Resigning herself to her fate, she hoped they’d still hang around her after six weeks were up.

“Cheer up, it’s not that bad. You get a lot of sympathy goodies.” Tabitha crouched next to the cast, a marker in hand. She started doodling something, just out of Kitty’s sight. “People open doors for you, give you seats, sometimes even food—”

“You shouldn’t eat things strangers give you,” Kitty warned, worried about that last one. Sometimes, she was amazed Tabitha made it to high school. More often, though, she was impressed the school hadn’t burned to the ground multiple times, considering her short temper. “And what’re you drawing?”

“You’ll see!” Tabitha replied cheekily, her brow furrowed as she finished her masterpiece.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

“I’m pretty good at that, ask anyone.” Tabitha smirked up at her. “How’re the geeks taking this? Bet Logan ain’t happy.”

“They’re like, the only bad part.” Kitty grimaced, remembering Scott’s lectures. And she had to get a ride from him for the next six weeks—her mornings were going to be so ruined. “I swear, Scott and Jean won’t shut up about it, and Logan’s just counting down the days till he can make me suffer again.”

Tabitha stood up now, laughing. “Sounds like ‘em.” Hand on her hip, she gave her a wry look. “Honestly, you should just ditch that whole scene and join me. It might not be the best place to stay, but it’s the funnest.”

There was absolutely no way Kitty was staying in that rundown house the brotherhood claimed was ‘livable’. She’d been there a handful of times, and each time she wasn’t sure how the place hadn’t been torn down. At the very least, it had to be filled with lice or something. “I’m not that desperate.”

“Yet.” Tabitha pocketed her marker and waved before waltzing away. “Lemme know if you change your mind.”

“Not happening!” Kitty laughed, watching as a garbage bin exploded.

-x-

Kitty lay on her bed, examining her cast by her tablelamp light. It was, perhaps, the first time she’d gotten to use that thing without having to cram for a test or something. Today was actually full of firsts—she finished her homework without having to rush, she had dinner on time, and hey, she saw an episode of her favourite drama on time instead of catching a rerun.

Even now, she was lying in her bed, at 11pm, and not bone-tired for once. Across the room, Rogue snored lightly as she slept, too tired from training to complain about the light. The house was utterly silent at that this time and if it weren’t for the lights-out rules, she’d have snuck around to see just how different the house was at night.

For now, she bent over her cast, running her fingers along the different signatures she’d collected. After Tabitha had signed it, the rest of her friends popped in, one after another, all ready to make a mark. The once white cast was now a collage of signatures and messages. Rogue had written her name in purple ink, with nothing else added to it, and Kitty couldn’t figure out if it was because she didn’t have anything she wanted to write, or if it was because she was too embarrassed to put anything.

Feel better soon, Honey, Kurt had written in blue ink, and Kitty smiled as she pressed her fingers on the pink heart he’d drawn beside his name. It was utterly cheesy, but she liked that about Kurt.

There was a picture of a grumpy Logan next to Spike’s name, and Kitty covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. He was a terrible artist, and that only made it funnier. Logan was either a furious hedgehog or he was some new evolution of a bear. Definitely not human, at the very least.

Finally finished with all the easy to read signatures, Kitty leaned forward and strained her neck to see what was on the back of her cast. More importantly, to see what Tabitha had spent so long drawing. Biting her tongue and squinting, she could just make out the picture.

It was a dick.

Of course it was. She flopped back on her bed, and silently swore revenge.

#xmen #kurtty #kitty pryde #kurt wagner #xmen evolution #nightcrawler #shadowcat #fanfic

14 notes · View notes

the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Ice Cream and Grass Stains (Bucky x Reader)

Requested - #15 from My Avengers Prompt List

Person A: This isn’t how I imagined saying this but… take all your clothes off. – With Bucky, for the two anons who requested it.

Warnings - Violence, Gore, Swearing and Really Bad Flirting...

Ice Cream and Grass Stains

When The Black Widow tracked you down and dragged your ass back to the Avengers compound, you’d really thought she was arresting you. She had jumped you in the middle of a heist after all, but she knew more than you thought she did. She’d known you were stealing classified files from a Hydra Agent and she presented those files and you to the team and recommended you join them. And the rest was history.

That had been three months ago.

Now, you were a fledgling hero on her first team mission. You had hoped for something easy, like taking down a base in the middle of nowhere. Not a knock down, free for all, fight to the death with aliens in the middle of Chicago.

“Newbie, Falcon needs help getting civilians to safety, three block south of you.” Clint said in your ear, through the comm unit.

“On it.” You said, running towards where you’d been instructed.

You saw Sam pulling a group of people out of a café and pointing them towards the safety of the police blockade.

“Little bird, big bird said you needed a hand?” You said as you jogged up to him.

“Yeah, get these people to safety. I need to get back up there.” Sam told you, clasping you on the shoulder and making sure you were ok with it.

“Fly away my friend, I’ve got it from here.” You assured.

He gave you a toothy grin and took off.

“Folks, if you’ll follow me?” You asked politely, trying not to show them how nervous you were.

They dutifully followed you until you handed them off to the police officers who’d set up a perimeter around the battle.

“Civvies are A-Ok, where to next, eye in the sky?” You asked Clint.

“Barnes has been cornered in an office block not far from you. He says he’s fine but just tell him you got lost and needed his help to find your way back to the rest of the team.” Clint suggested.

You bit back a snort of laughter at the fact Clint had Cheat Codes for dealing with The Winter Soldier and let him direct you to the office building.

Bucky was on the fourth floor and he was decidedly NOT fine. He was fighting off twelve of the outer space bad guys with a pocket knife. Though to be fair to him, he was holding them back and looking unfairly hot whilst doing so. You sprung onto the backs of one of the aliens before they could even notice you were in the room and used your own knife to slice it across the throat, landing in a crouch when it fell dead.

You spun around in the crouch, slicing through the calves of a second alien and angling your knife so it impaled its own skull on the blade as it fell. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw him take down three of them in rapid succession.

“What are you doing here?” He snarled while he broke the neck of another with a sickeningly satisfying crunch.

“Helping?” You offered, ducking under the swing of one of the extra-terrestrials coming at you.

“Get out of here, go find the others.” He commanded.

“But…”

“Get out!” He shouted, kicking one of the ones coming after you in the ribs.

You ignored him and tackled an alien round the middle of it’s long body, piledriving it to the ground and stabbing it through the eye socket. One of it’s friends grabbed your shoulder, fingernails piercing your skin. You hissed in pain as it bodily picked you up and flung you a good twelve feet across the room. You smashed into the wall, cracking the plaster and landing on the floor with a thump.

You were seriously winded and it took you nearly a full minute to stand up. There was a horrific burning pain across your back and you saw the sharp jagged edge of a piece of metal on the wall. You must have caught your back on it, which explained why you felt so very dizzy and weak.

Bucky saw your body sail past him and heard the impact it made with the wall and he snapped. Red clouded his vision and he tore through the remaining aliens viciously, destroying them before they could even think about going after you while you were vulnerable. When the last one died under his metal grip he whipped his head around to look at where you were landed and he felt relief flood his system when he saw you standing upright and looking sheepish.

“Are you ok?” You called over to him tentatively.

“Unlike you, I can take care of myself. Unlike you, I can heal on the off chance I actually do get hurt. I don’t need a pathetic, unskilled, wannabe hero to jump in and save me. You just ended up getting on the way and I had to save your ass.” He snarled.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“What, no snappy comeback? No witty one-liners?” He snapped.

“Not today.” You said, hanging your head low.

“Are… are you crying?” he asked derisively, noticing the sheen in your eyes.

“You know what? I am. Because I’m bleeding to death over here and you STILL have to take the time to make me feel two inches tall.” You choked out.

He rolled his eyes at you and stomped over, pulling the tact suit away from your injured shoulder.

“It’s barely bleeding. You’re fine.” He told you, his eyes widening when he was the smear of blood on the wall and the puddle of the thick red liquid pooling at your feet.

He cautiously leaned over to look at you back and let out a sharp intake of breath when he saw the large gash from your right shoulder to your left hip. It was deep and ragged, bleeding heavily.

“Shit!” He swore, springing into action.

“I need a med evac on the south side of the west building here.” He said into the comms, ripping his own jacket off and trying to use it to stem the bleeding.

“Damnit. Ok kid, they’re coming but it’s going to be a while. I can’t move you, I’ll tear up your wounds worse.” He told you.

You mumbled something in reply, swaying slightly.

“Whoa, stay with me. I need you to watch my six while I’m cleaning up this mess.” He joked, gesturing to your back.

“m’kay.” You muttered.

“This isn’t how I imagined saying this but… take all your clothes off.” He instructed, getting up to search the room for anything that could be even remotely classed as medical supplies.

He heard you fumble with the zipper of your tact suit as he tore through desk drawers, until he lucked out and found a first-aid kit with sterile wipes and a suturing kit. He also found a half-empty bottle of vodka. When he turned back to you, you were wincing in pain and trying to pull off the tact suit without moving.

“I’ve got you.” He said softly, grabbing a hold of you.

You were losing more blood than he had initially realised. He shoved stuff off of a desk and picked you up, gently laying you down on your front on the desk.

“Sorry about this doll.” He apologised, using one of his many knives to cut the tact suit off your back.

“How did you imagine it?” You asked him weakly.

“Imagine what?” He replied, using someone’s discarded scarf to mop up as much of the blood as he could.

“You said, you imagined it differently. Telling me to take my clothes off.” You told him and he briefly faltered in his actions.

He hadn’t even realised he’d said that. He’d been distracted by your injuries, it must have slipped out.

“Sorry.” He apologised, wiping his hands with a sterile wipe before gently probing at the edges of the gash.

“Tell me…” You pushed.

He sighed wearily and let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“You’re not gonna let me live this down, are you?” He asked.

“Well you’ll probably get lucky and I’ll die before I have the chance to tell anyone.” You laughed softly.

“You’re not going to fucking die. That’s an order, do you understand me?” He commanded.

“This isn’t how I imagined saying this but… Whatever you want, Sergeant.” You said cheekily.

He laughed at your wit, even in the throes of agony.

“I can stitch this up, there’s enough supplies but I need to clean it first and I’m sorry, but it’s going to hurt.” He apologised, holding the bottle of vodka.

“Gimme.” You demanded, gesturing to it and he sighed, but opened it and handed it to you.

You managed to angle your head to the side and take several long gulps before handing it back to him. Before you could think about what he was going to do, he poured the alcohol directly over the gash.

“MOTHERFUCKING FUCKER! FUCK YOU BARNES!” You screamed and he had to pin you down to stop you from thrashing.

“Sorry.” He winced.

“Don’t apologise you absolute wanker, I’m going to give you something to actually be sorry about. As soon as I can stand up.” You vowed.

“I believe you sweetheart.”

Oh so now I’m your sweetheart? Few minutes ago I was a thorn in your side.” You scoffed.

He swallowed thickly, guilt seeping through his bones at the harsh words he’d spat in your face.

“I was angry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said, threading the needle and pinching the edges of the gaping wound together.

“Well, fuck that hurts, I forgive you. Especially since now I know it was mostly just your pent up sexual frustration.” You said.

“We’re back to that huh?” He sighed.

“I wanna know how you imagined it.” You pushed.

“It starts with me finally working up the nerve to ask you to let me take you out.” He admitted.

“And if I said yes? How would it have gone?” You asked him.

“I would have picked you up at your door and given you flowers, the one’s you always stop and look at through the window in the grounds. We would take my bike, you’d have to sit behind me and wrap your arms around me.” He chuckled.

“And where we would we go?”

“Somewhere quiet, where nobody else was. I would have said a picnic but I know you, I’d just take you to the fucking McDonalds drive through because you’re a cheap date.” He scoffed and you tried to hold yourself still while you laughed.

“I’d get a McFlurry right?” You checked.

“With an apple pie to smoosh into it.” He confirmed.

“That sounds good right about now. So then what?” You asked, biting down on your lip when he got to the widest part of the wound.

“I’d take you to the park, and I’d lay my jacket on the ground for you to sit on. You always look so fucking beautiful in the moonlight you know?”

“I didn’t know actually.” You giggled.

“Stars have got nothin on you sweetheart, surprised they don’t just stop shining altogether.” He said, his old Brooklyn accent coming through.

You let out a low, impressed whistle.

“You’ve got lines Barnes.” You teased him.

“And I’d pull them all out on our date, I’d make an ass of myself trying to impress you.” He laughed.

“I’d think it was cute.” You assured him.

“Yeah, you would. Eventually you’d get tired of it though and you’d kiss me just to get me to shut up.” He revealed.

“Devious plan, I like it.” You sniggered.

“I’d kiss you till you couldn’t think straight doll, then I’d keep kissing you. I think once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.” He admitted.

“And when I was all dumbed out from your kisses, then you’d tell me to take all my clothes off?” You whispered.

“You know me too well.” He confirmed.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I can’t believe you wanna fuck me in a public park, I didn’t figure you for such a pervert.” You said and his shoulders shook with the force of his laughter.

“Couldn’t even spring for a motel room huh?” You continued and he had to stop stitching for a second he was laughing so hard.

“You want The Ritz doll? I’ll get us The Ritz.” He asked, continuing with his task of sewing your back together.

“Nah, I want Ice cream and grass stains.” You told him sleepily.

He chewed his bottom lip anxiously as he tried to figure out if you were humouring him, or if he might actually stand a chance. He would have never have admitted any of this if he hadn’t accidentally blurted it out and needed to distract you from the pain.

“So Doc, I’m I gonna live? My Sergeant says I gotta and I hate to disobey an order.” You asked.

“You’re going to be just fine. Banner and Cho can fix this in no time, you’ll be up and about in a couple of days.” He promised.

“Good, good. I’ve got a date this weekend.” You sighed.

His heart panged painfully in his chest. You had a date… So you were only humouring him. You probably thought he was joking around, trying to keep you amused while he stitched you up.

“Anyone I know?” He asked with a false cheeriness.

“Yeah actually. Sam finally got it together and asked me out.” You told him.

“Sam? Sam Wilson? Sam Wilson the Falcon?” He stuttered.

“That’s the one, not sure if he has anymore nicknames though. I’ll let you know once I’ve seen him naked if there’s anymore we can add to the list.” You joked as he pulled the final stitch through your skin.

He felt physically ill at the idea of you and Sam, never mind you and Sam naked. Of course someone else would have asked you out though, you were beautiful and funny and brave. Even if he had moved faster, you would have probably turned him down, he wasn’t

“You do know I’m joking right?” You interrupted his internal takedown of himself.

“Oh. So it’s not Sam?” He said, almost relieved.

But if it wasn’t Sam, it was still someone else.

“Bucky…”

“Yeah?” He said softly.

“Ask me out you fucking idiot.” You commanded.

“What?” He said, choking on his own saliva and scooting back from the desk so he could see your face.

“I told you, I want ice cream and grass stains.” You said, smiling at him softly with so much fondness in your eyes it literally took his breath away.

“Me, you want to go on a date with me?” He checked.

“Unless you didn’t mean it? Oh god, you didn’t mean it. Ugh, I’m such an idiot.” You groaned, burying your face in your arms.

“I meant it!” He exclaimed loudly.

You peered up at him with a mischievous, cocky grin and he huffed out a laugh as he realized you’d played him.

“Sweetheart, will you let this idiot take you out?” He asked, grinning.

“Hmm, I’ll have to check my diary… make sure Sam’s not free this weekend.” You joked.

“Doll…” He groaned.

“You can take me out Barnes. I’ll wear something easy to take off.” You said.

A/N - All is ok in my world again so I’m coming back to writing :)

832 notes · View notes

angelofarts · 4 years

Text

Of Crochet and Comas Part 1

I crochet. I do not knit. Knitting is an inferior art form. I crochet. I am complex.

“I am full of it,” I muttered to myself, staring at the words on the screen. The thing is, when your whole personality is this one thing you do and you can’t actually tell people it’s what you do, what do you tell them? Do you play the sympathy card? Do you make something up? Do you ignore the paper in the hopes that it’ll go away, knowing at the last hour you’ll play both the previous cards at the same time to scrape a pass?

Yeah, inevitably I end up on option 3.

I pushed away the laptop, leaving it on the scrunched with the blanket on the end of my bed, half buried under my duvet. No matter how many times Mom comes in and eyes it sadly, or Dad shakes his head at me, I refuse to give it up. That blanket is mine, no one else’s.

“Going to the hospital,” I called to my mom who was in her office as I found a clean t-shirt.

“Is it visiting hours?” she called back as I sniffed the armpit of the shirt. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly clean, but it was clean enough for my purposes.

I swung out of my room, scooping my backpack up. “Yeah, they let me in whenever,” I told her as though she didn’t already know this. She looked up at me, her eyes out of focus, and swept her fringe back. Defying the laws of gravity, it immediately sprung back into a frizzy mess.

“Okay, ride safe,” she said vaguely, turning back to her spreadsheet. “Take your phone and your backpack. Get some homework done.”

I nodded, even though I knew she couldn’t see me, and left through the passage leading to the back door. My bike stood there, the patches that weren’t orange rust peeked through with dark grey. An archaeologist had once offered me fifty bucks for it, convinced it outdated several of his finds, but old Raptor was mine until I got my license and could upgrade to the equally crappy and significantly more expensive rusted car sitting in our driveway.

The hospital wasn’t far away, and yet I somehow managed to get flipped off four times, honked at six, and almost hit twice. Regardless of the fact that I was in the right lane, one of the drivers tailed me a block, yelling obscenities. I merrily waved my middle finger back at him until he drove past, obviously deciding some kid on his bike wasn’t worth ruining his afternoon for.

At the hospital, I chained my bike up to the stand in front of the visitor’s entrance and hiked my backpack further up my shoulders. The air conditioning hit me, and I winced – despite cycling here and it being winter, I’d forgotten anything practical for the day like a sweater or hat or scarf, instead standing in my jeans and tee like normal.

“Hey Aaron,” Nurse Nancy called from her station. “Good to see you.”

I felt a goofy grin split over my face. “Nancy my love, how have you been? Keeping our affair a secret, I hope? I’d hate to have to become your sugar daddy when I have no sugar to provide.”

Nurse Nancy, a woman probably old enough to be my grandmother, gave me a good natured chuckle and tsked as she waved me past towards long term residency. I clutched at my chest dramatically as I staggered through the swinging doors.

Entering the ward, I waved at the nurses and some of the residents who were out for the morning. Bert, an old man with a heart condition, was reading in the common area where he first taught me how to cheat at poker. Lizzie, a middle aged woman with some sort of hormone malfunction was next to him, yelling at the politicians on TV. She was the reason I was passing history – the woman was a walking library.

Not a lot of the residents are permanently in long term, since most medicines can be administered at home, but Bert and Lizzie had no one to help them take the meds, so they had been a staple of this wing for the four years I’d been coming in.

Closer to my destination I ran into the younger crowd – teenagers my age who had to come in for a month or so at a time for some or other condition. Lisa I knew had cystic fibrosis and came in whenever she flared up, although you wouldn’t say she was chronically ill from how put together she always looked – long blonde hair always tied back, always in real clothes when the others would spend days in pyjamas. Richard had Crohn’s disease, and you could always tell when he came in from how much weight he’d lost or gained. There were others – diabetics, cancer kids, a whole host of them who somehow had managed to find a society within themselves, one which I, as an outsider, was very much not a part of.

Finally, I reached the last door and propped it open, to the familiar, rhythmic electronic beeps of the heart monitor and the gush of air in and out of the respirator.

“Hey bro,” I whispered softly.

My brother, Kenzo, didn’t reply, not that I expected him to. His chest artificially rose and fell as I softly dropped my backpack to the floor and sat in the visitors chair next to him.

Kenzo was the one who introduced me to crochet, back when we were kids. I, at four, had less than no patience for the wool and stick my mom was trying to show us, but he took to it like a duck to water, and within three weeks we were both going at it. Anything to be like my big brother.

Just a year separated us, but it was a year that made a difference. Kenzo was the model student, the popular sports star who somehow was genuinely nice to everyone. One year he found out who didn’t have Valentines, and anonymously sent fifty crocheted roses to the girls and guys (He’d made me help of course). One year he raised money for charity through selling scarves. He was Mr Perfect, as far as our peers were concerned.

I didn’t have the same sheen on him – bathing together until you’re three does that to a person – but even knowing the crappy stuff he did, like the brief stint of shoplifting before I threatened to turn him in, or the time I caught him and our neighbours smoking pot in the back garden, I couldn’t deny that he was a good brother. Until the day he wasn’t.

Until the day he ended up here, in a coma, because of me.

I bent over to open my backpack. “Here, I made you something. Winter is getting cold, and you need some protection I bet.”

I emerged with a hunter green hat, one I knew would suit his colouring because it suited mine. The green clashed with the dark brown of my hair, bringing some colour into my pale cheeks. I pulled it onto his head carefully and tucked it around his ears the way he used to like it.

“Looks great, bro,” I said softly, leaning back. “How are you still hotter than me though? Hardly seems fair. If you take Nurse Nancy away from me now, I really will have to call mutiny.”

“Nurse Nancy?”

A curious voice had spoken from the door, and I bolted upright, kicking my bag under Kenzo’s bed. At the door stood a girl, about my height, with pale skin and auburn hair, clutching a bag.

“Sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I only came to drop off this blanket and I didn’t think there would be anyone in here because there’s never anyone here when I come past and when I heard it I stopped because you never know who could be here talking to their family and I don’t want to interrupt but then you mentioned Nurse Nancy and she’s my aunt and she’s married to my Aunt Ellen so I hate to burst your bubble but I think you might need to find a new girlfriend.”

She finally stopped to draw breath, after the most impressive babble I’d ever heard. I waited a beat to make sure she was really done.

“You should offer your lung capacity to Lisa.”

Red began to bloom in her face, spreading from her nose to her cheeks and down her neck. Now that I was paying attention to her clothes, rather than her words, I could see she was dressed in a button up shirt, cardigan, and a pleat skirt. Her shoes (leather brogues) were neatly tied and polished to a shine. Throw in her dark blue lace tights, and I couldn’t help but feel like she was a time traveller from the 1940’s.

She let out a laugh, and to my humiliation, I realized I’d said the last of my thought out loud. It was my turn to flush, although it wasn’t nearly as spectacular as hers.

“Tesha,” she introduced, holding out a hand.

“Aaron,” I replied, taking it and giving it a limp shake.

“Are you Kenzo’s brother?” she asked curiously as she set down the bag she’d had slung over one shoulder, patterned with birds. “I come in here often, but I’ve never seen you here before.”

I nodded. “They gave me free reign since he’s a coma patient, so I’m not usually here in normal visiting hours. Which begs the question – what are you doing here?”

“Christmas in July,” she said cheerfully, pulling out a woollen blanket in deep burnt orange.

“It’s May,” I countered, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes as she set the blanket over Kenzo’s legs.

“Don’t be a buzzkill. Time is meaningless, so presents are eternal.”

I snorted as I fell back in my chair. “I should use that line with my teachers to get extensions.”

She smiled and tucked the blanket down gently. “There you go, Mr Kenzo. Looks just as good as I’d expected.”

If this was a magic story, Kenzo would have woken up then through Tesha’s kind action, or her sheer force of personality and charm. This isn’t though, so naturally I noticed at that moment that the blanket was knitted, and let out a derisive snort.

“What?” Tesha asked defensively, her eyes flashing slightly.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s just that Kenzo doesn’t like knitted stuff, especially not machine knit. But I’m sure it’s a nice blanket, really.”

Her mouth started to pinch. “This,” she said very clearly, “was not machine knit. This was hand knit, by yours truly, and you are a snob and not very nice. I’m leaving now.”

With that, she swirled around and left with a little “hmph.”

I got up to chase after her, not sure if I was going to apologize to her or further mock the institution of knitting. When I got to the corridor though, I saw that she’d disappeared, no doubt to engulf someone else in her snobbish, “superior” items.

“Whatever,” I muttered to myself, turning towards the bathrooms.

On the way there, I ran into Richard, who uncharacteristically stopped to talk to me.

“Dude, did you do something to piss off Tesha?”

My face flushed again as I quelled the urge to push past the dark teen in front of me. He had a disease, he was basically skin and bones, he had no contribution towards me sticking my foot in my mouth…

“No,” I snapped. “She’s being a snob.”

Okay, so much for being nice to sick kids. I try to be nice to the teenagers here, knowing that if circumstances had been different it was very likely that I would be one of them, but it was difficult when none of them usually acknowledged my existence. Between their cold shoulders and the tip toeing I got at school, I was getting rusty with appropriate social interactions.

Richard snorted loudly. “Yeah, right.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

He shifted in his wheelchair, and his jersey slipped down one bony shoulder. “Tesha is a saint. No way she started it.”

“Were you there?” I demanded, pushing into the bathroom. It was mean of me, but I let the door swing closed before he could follow, knowing it was near impossible for him to enter.

When I emerged, unfortunately he was still there, but now talking to Lisa. I snuck past them and back to Kenzo’s room to wait out my time in the peace of my brother.

#writing #spilled ink #writing about crafts #of crochet and comas #pandemic writing #its just for fun #please dont judge me

6 notes · View notes

nowitsdarkfic · 5 years

Text

chapter twenty-three (the manhattan affair)

December 26, 1988. Somewhere underneath the northern side of New York City.

I can't shake the image of the boy with no hands from my mind as we're rolling along the pitch dark railways underneath the City, from his lack of a face to the fact he had no hands which were cut clean off at the wrists.

Okay, I'm curious about him now, and also the fact that the subways are indeed haunted. I wonder what else lingers in the wires and cables of these black stone tunnels. If the boy with no hands is just one example, I can only imagine what other type of spirits are here. Could this be where Mrs. Snow hides out during the summer months? That would be understandable, given it's cool and dark down here where it's as hot as a rain forest back up north.

I hold onto the rung over the crown of my head; Lars is huddled right up next to me with the collar of his coat popped up towards his face. He has his left hand stuffed into his coat pocket and his right arm pressed up against his body as he's holding onto his cane: seems rather pointless given it's nice and warm in here from the heater vents overhead at the moment. It's just us here on this car: there's an elderly couple in the one in front of us and a couple of other people in the one behind us. Awful quiet here in the big city, especially given it's the day after Christmas.

“You know, there's a recording studio over in Rochester,” Lars breaks the silence right then.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! Music America!”

“I could probably get you some space there in the new year… we recorded Kill 'Em All there. In about two weeks, no less. I just now thought of that, too.”

“Okay. Maybe I'll ring them up once all is said and done here. What I want to know is—and I was thinking about this on the way over here, too—what're we gonna say to Candace?”

“What're we gonna say to Candace?” he echoes.

“Yeah, like—how are we gonna introduce ourselves to her? 'Cause the whole time I was thinking 'man… she's a writer. She's gonna want a proper intro otherwise we're just come across as a couple of goons off the street.'”

“Well, you are not wrong about that, Joey,” he assures me, “arguably speaking, we are a couple of goons off the street. I took a cab and your car broke down. We came off the street, but—you've read about Candace, haven't you? How Maya was going around looking for her and everything?”

“Yeah, she's Maya's foster sister, and she left home when she was sixteen, and ran off to Denmark.”

“Hang on, hang on—to Denmark?”

“Yeah, that's what the—” I stop myself. And then it dawns on me. “Ah, shit.”

“What's the matter?”

“I left the file folder in my car. It's under the seat, too.”

“Wait, what file folder?”

“After Angeline and I were at the Morlente's house in Boston, she gave me a file folder filled with everything that she and Dominique have found about Maya and also Candace. I took it with me when I went to my parents' house on Christmas Eve and I stuck it under my seat 'cause I—didn't wanna keep it in my coat forever.” I refrain myself from telling him about the copy of After the Watershed Maya had given me the night of the accident.

“Did you at least lock the car?” he asks me.

“Yes.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Anyways, that's one of the things I read about Candace. Everything else that we heard about her was totally made up.”

“Huh. Wow. She was in Denmark.”

“Yep, Copenhagen. She was laying low there for the greater part of a decade and came back here to the States not even a year ago.”

“See, I got a phone call from Dominique telling me Angeline told her that Candace is here in New York City and then she gave me the address. I wanted to come here for my birthday today and I wondered if you were up for it, so I called your place just two days ago and didn't get a reply, and I only assumed that you had already left.”

“Nah, I was down in Camillus spending Christmas with my parents,” I point out. “You must've just missed me, too, 'cause I didn't hear my phone ring at all. Wait. Two days ago? When'd you call me then?”

“It was like—middle of the day, like lunchtime. You didn't hear the phone ring at all?”

“Not one time.”

He knits his eyebrows at me and the screech of the brakes catches my ear. We must be getting close to Grand Central. I let go of the rung over my head and flex my leather clad fingers.

Indeed, I see the first glimmers of golden light around a corner in the tunnel.

Within a matter of seconds, we're bathed in the rustic warmth and spindly high arches of the Grand Central Terminal. It's always exactly how I picture it, from the brass pipes jutting out of the walls and leading down to the furnaces underneath the hard slate floor, the cold metal over our heads, the frosty glass in the windows, the heavy dark oak wood in the railings, and the partially shiny silvery machines here and there down on the floor. Next to every single hinge is a set of gears like the ones we see on the fire escapes. Each of the platforms is made of clean brick and reinforced gilded poles. Everything either has a brassy sheen to it or has a great deal of gilding to it, even the big black and white clock perched over the ticket booth. As the train is grinding to a stop, I can see the snow outside of the station has picked up. Well, at least we don't have walk far.

The double doors open and Lars and I step out of the car into the cozy warm train station. I almost don't want to leave here and head out into the snow given it's so warm and comfy. But we're on a mission of sorts.

As we're walking across the floor to the big doors on the other side, I take a glimpse up at the high ceiling. I usually picture every inch of Grand Central being so clean that I could probably eat my grandma's lasagna off of the floor. It's the shiny, polished metal and brick and mortar corner of the otherwise rusted and stone raw City.

But I'm seeing a lot of… stringy kind of stuff hanging off the particularly high parts of the ceiling. It looks like cobwebs, but it's not, though. It almost reminds me of that little bit of lace I found on the lampshade in my living room that one time. After Maya cleaned my apartment, she missed that little piece of what resembled to lace. That's what this stuff looks like.

More of that lacy sort of stuff. Stuff that looks like a big bundle of cobwebs dangling down from the rafters.

Makes me wonder now…

“Joey, this way!”

I drop my gaze down to find Lars guiding me away from the the line into the ticket booth, which I was about to walk into. He leads me to the front doors, and I tug my scarf over my face once again. Lars covers his face with the collar of his coat as we proceed to walk down the snow covered sidewalk.

“So where does she live again?” he calls out to me over the noise in the street.

And I point up the sidewalk. I'm pretty sure this is the right way: I recognize neighborhood after hanging out here with Anthrax and of course from the Soundgarden show. And there's the bar that we went to, the one Maya works at and resembles to an ice cream parlor. I lead Lars to the building next door, an apartment building with a low, partially collapsed stairwell and a long string of gear powered fire escapes running up the walls. I push open the black wooden front door and we're in the warm front lobby with a pair of elevators on one side of the room. I pull the scarf down and give my head a shake as we head on to the doors closest to us.

“Let's see, she lives on the fourth floor,” I recall from the file folder. “Can't remember the number, though.” I reach out to push the upward button .

“Never been in an apartment building that doesn't have a door man before,” Lars mutters aloud.

“I know. It's… kind of unsettling, actually. How easy it was for us to get in.”

The doors open and we step inside the dim lit wooden elevator. The cables above the ceiling squeak at the feeling of our combined weight, and it makes me a little nervous. I lean against the narrow brass railing as Lars pushes the button for the fourth floor. The doors close and the rickety thing lifts up the shaft: I hear the gears grinding down below at the bottom of the shaft.

“Man, this thing has seen some better days,” he remarks at the stains and the rust on the railing behind me.

“Yeah, no shit! I pity the poor bastard who's over two hundred pounds who's gotta commute with this sort of thing on a regular basis.”

“I think the two of us combined are over two hundred pounds.”

“Yeah, I think we are. This thing sounds like it's struggling.” I swallow down at that thought.

But within time, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors grind open. Lars darts out first and then I follow him into the hallway with the ash gray walls and the pitch black carpet. There's nothing lighting this place save for a row of golden light bulbs surrounded by silver wires on the ceiling over our heads. The doors slide shut behind me and we glance either way down the corridor.

“This is it?” he wonders aloud.

“Yeah.”

“There are no doors, though.”

“There is one way the hell down there, though—” I point down the left side of the corridor and I lead him all the way down the hard black carpet, all the way to the very end, where there's a black door contrasting the ash gray. He ducks around me to reach the door first.

“You wanna knock or should I do it?” I ask him.

“I'll do it,” he offers me. He raises a hand and knocks three times on the panel right in front of his face. I linger right behind him with my hair still soaking wet from the snow. I give my head another shake when there's a soft click on the other side, and we're greeted by a short, kinda chubby young lady with reddish brown hair and wrapped in a black cardigan. She's got a round, full face, an upturned nose, and big eyes that look like they're about to leak tears at any given second.

“Yes?” she greets us in a gentle voice. “Can I help you guys?”

“Hello, Candace,” Lars replies. “My name is Lars, and this is Joey. Er, we wanna talk to you about your sister.”

She knits her eyebrows together at the sound of that.

“Maya? Did—something happen to her?”

“A number of things happened to her,” I explain.

“We,” Lars starts again, “have had some help of the New York Times and a young, aspiring journalist in Seattle in figuring things out because it's better if we do it and—not have to deal with the police.”

“Oh, that's—I totally get that.” She closes her sweater over her prominent chest. “Um, please, come on in! You guys want some coffee? You look cold.”

“Yes, please!” I take it up as we step inside her little studio apartment, the walls of which are painted a nice soft green. There's a little soft blue sofa right in front of us next to a small black bookshelf chock full of books and a tall bright red floor lamp that's lighting the whole front room here in soft yellow light. On the other side of the lamp is a door hanging ajar: figure that's her bedroom. I turn to find a row of hooks next to the door once I close it behind me. She's got all manner of knick knacks and things on her shelves, including a little bamboo plant in one corner of the room, right next to a heavy writing desk with a typewriter in the middle of it.

“Hang up your coats, take off your boots, and make yourselves at home here,” she encourages us as she walks into the kitchen right in front of us. I strip off my coat and take the hook closest to the door; I sling my scarf over the collar and, once I make sure it's not going to fall onto the floor, I take off my gloves and cram them into the left pocket. It's nice and warm in here so I unfasten the top two buttons of my shirt.

“So how'd you guys find Maya?” Candace starts us off as she takes a couple of mugs out of one of the cabinets.

“Well, actually it was me who found her,” I tell her, running my fingers through my wet curls. I set my hand down on the side table next to the desk, one with a black clay statue of a rooster standing on one foot.

“I ask because—” She stops at the sight of Lars as he's taking off his coat.

“I'm sorry, where have I seen you?” she wonders aloud at him.

“I'm Lars Ulrich from Metallica,” he states with hesitation.

“The song that closed Denmark,” I throw out there as the statue falls off the table. I drop down with it in order to catch it before it hits the floor.

“Be careful with that—I got that in Stockholm,” she warns me before turning around to pour the both of us mugs full of coffee. “Anyways, I ask because part of the reason why I came back to the States was I got word she was missing. By the way, how do you guys like your coffee?”

“I like a little cream,” Lars tells her as he hangs up his coat on the hook next to mine.

“Black, baby,” I join in as I set the statue back onto the table.

“I ask you about yourself, Lars, because you are absolutely everywhere in Copenhagen.” She opens the fridge for some cream for his cup of coffee. “So you just look familiar from my living there for so long.”

There's a clanking of a spoon and then she picks up the mugs and walks back into the front room with them.

“Come on, sit!” she orders us as she sets down the black mugs on the coffee table before the sofa. Lars and I take our seats there while she sits down at the chair before her desk. She turns to us and fixes her sweater again.

“So,” she starts, eyeing me and the pinky ring on my right hand as I'm reaching out for the mug, “how'd you find her?”

“I live out in a little town called Oswego.”

“Oswego… oh, I know where that is. That's—Rochester area, isn't it?”

“Rochester, Syracuse—it's right on the shore of Ontario.”

“Wow, she ended up way the hell up there?”

“Yeah, and the leads we've gotten so far have said she was trying to find you, like she was following a book tour or something or other.”

“Funny, 'cause—my last book tour was like two years ago and it was in the British Isles. Does—she know where I live?”

“As far as we know, no,” Lars answers, picking up his mug and taking a sip.

“She does work at the little bar next door, though,” I point out after leaning back in the comfy sofa.

“She works there?” She's genuinely shocked by that.

“Yeah. You didn't know that?”

“No. I only know about the time she ran away from home and we picked her up down in New Orleans, but that was it. She ran away because she—” She stops herself and bows her head.

“What's the matter?” I ask her.

“This part's always hard for me to stomach because the wound's still raw.”

I swallow down my first sip of rich black coffee before turning to him. Guess Maya running away really got to her.

“Well maybe—Lars and I can change your mind,” I tell her in a low voice. She knits her eyebrows together and eyes me with a bit of scorn.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“…no,” I reply to her. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, it's just you've got kind of a come hither look in your eye.”

“He always looks like that, though,” Lars points out.

“I really do.”

“Oh. Well. Then it's understandable—I mean, if you've got it, flaunt it. But you have what the Scandinavians refer to as 'kavorka'. You might not see it for yourself, Joey, but you are—very sensual. You've got this almost sexual vibe to you from the big earthy brown eyes to the disheveled curls to the fact that even though you are quite svelte in build, almost scrawny in fact, you've got a lot going on in your hips and your thighs. Not to mention, you are obviously bringing attention to your chest with the unfastened buttons on your shirt. You're—a very earthy man.”

“I am part Native American after all,” I explain.

“Well, it's just—Europe is so liberated and free that it's almost jarring to see it here in the States.”

“What do you mean?” Lars frowns at her, taking another sip of coffee. She fetches up a sigh.

“Those kind of vibes are almost pushed to the side and they have—” She pauses again. “—horrible effects.”

“Still don't understand,” I confess.

“I always knew why she ran away to New Orleans, but I could never tell my mom, though. It would break her spirit. It's because Maya and I—we were—”

“Yes?” Lars asks.

“It's okay,” I encourage her.

“—we were abused. To of great extent. I took the worst of it and… my guess is she didn't want to be around that. So, she ran off.”

I almost drop the mug of coffee at the sound of that.

1 note · View note

bitterbetterbun · 5 years

Text

Umber

[Pt.1/Day 1 of NaNoWriMo]

Klara laughed at the lighthearted response to her question. It wasn’t every night that she met someone still willing to hold fast to their sense of humor. She liked that about Jennifer. The sky began to brighten around them, the Sun calling for dawn over the hills in the distance. The wind that blew Jennifer’s hair into her face and wrapped it around her neck was lost on Klara. She wished she could feel it. Instead, she knowingly turned her attention to the train tracks behind Jennifer’s heels.

“I really enjoyed talking with you tonight.”

Jennifer smiled, the sheen of wet in her eyes showing the sincerity of her momentary happiness. Though Klara knew she was in no danger, she took a step back.

“So, Miss Lingston. How did you die?”

The roaring sound of a train horn came from behind Jennifer just as she stepped back onto the train tracks. Klara closed her eyes when the blaring lights came into sight, turning her head as she heard the all too familiar sound of metal going at 90 miles per hour obliterate flesh and bone within a millisecond.

The soft sound of an alarm came over the loud whoosh of the train. Klara opened her eyes and stared up at her ceiling. She silenced the alarm and sighed.

“Another suicide.”

The wood floor beneath her feet as she got out of bed was a comfort she welcomed. It reminded her that she was awake, and in better cases, that she was real. Klara flicked on the TV as she made her way around her small apartment, readying herself. The newscasters voice came to life.

‘-has not yet been a full 24 hours since forty-seven year old Jennifer Lingston’s tragic accident and yet, hundreds of family members and friends have gathered to make sure she will never be forgotten. City council will be meeting in an hour to discuss the addition of a train track safety class in all school districts...’

Klara started up the shower, happy to drown out the robotic voice coming from her television. She stood under the stream of water, letting in encompass the whole of her body and wash away all of the vivid memories she had from the previous night. The worst part, she thought, was that they were not even her memories to begin with.

After her shower and another fifteen minutes of scrambling around her bedroom to dig out her sweaters, Klara was out the door. The scent of fall was in the air and she was all too ready for it. The beautiful leaves, crisp and nearly weightless, reminded her of an important recurring theme in her life. Death and the beauty within it. The leaves turn, ripen and wisen on their branches until it is their time to let go. Then they float down, like snow flakes, softly kissing the gound at the end of their decent. The allegory of it all was ironic to Klara. Perhaps we all do fly at the end of our lives. But Klara knew better. Flying and falling were two very different things.

Then there were the leaves that were picked off, their lush green lives taken from them prematurely. And the accidents, as well, the leaves blown off by the wind. That was the difference between humans and leaves. Most leaves fall when they were ready and the few rest come to and end of their cycles prematurely.

Humans almost never made it to the grave organically. The gust of wind plucking a healthy leaf from a branch could be the cancerous smoke from cigarettes that entered a man’s lungs. Everything about humanity was nearly inhumane.

Klara took a deep breath of the autumn air. Fall really was the most beautiful time of year. But no matter how she looked at it -- the crunchy leaves, the warm, earthy smells -- Klara couldn’t help but think about the fact that she was surrounded by death.

The bright sound of a bell rang as Klara entered a coffee shop. With a glance, she spotted who she was looking for and moved to join him.

“Morning sunshine,” Talbot welcomced Klara, never breaking eye contact with the newspaper in one of his hands, a coffee cup in the other.

“Morning.”

Klara set her bag and coat down in the chair across from his.

“Want a refill?”

“You know it.”

Klara took Talbot’s cup, returning shortly with it and one of her own.

“Train track safety classes,” Talbot tossed the paper to the side with a humorous grunt as he lifted his freshly filled coffee cup to his lips.

“But of course, using that money to teach kids about important things like, I don’t know, sex-ed maybe? Well, that would be atrocious.”

“No one wants to think about their kids fucking, Talbot, they wanna prevent their deaths.”

“STDs?”

After staring at Talbot with concern, the two friends broke out in laughter. If there was anything they agreed on, it was everything.

“Tal, did you know doctor visits from STDs directly fund the golden toilet seats in the White House?”

“You’re wrong, Klara.”

Talbot took a sip of coffee, lowering lifting his brows.

“They fund the man that wipes the shit off of the President’s ass.”

“Jokes on you!” Klara slammed her hands on the table in victory as she leaned forward.

“His is only doing his country’s duty so he isn’t even getting paid.”

“Did you just say ‘duty’?”

The two laughed again as Klara kicked Talbot from underneath the table. Though the coffee shop was small, its environment seemed to welcome people like Klara and Talbot with its private tables and warm and cozy atmosphere. Talbot smiled at Klara, glad to see the life back in her eyes after a fit of laughter. He could only imagine what she must have gone through last night. He leaned in to speak softly.

“So?”

“Another suicide.”

“How do you know?”

“Like I know every time,” Klara propped her chin up on a fist, “she told me.”

Talbot nodded, sitting back as she assessed the information from his friend. He leaned in again.

“Klara, how long do these dreams usually last?”

“I don’t know. Time is weird in dreams. Sometimes it can feel like I’m there, living their whole life with them. Other times, it goes in a flash. All I know is they all have one thing in common.”

Talbot tapped the front page of the newspaper on the table, “That they all died the day before.”

“Ugh.”

Klara put her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes in tired, circular motions.

“This is all too weird.”

Talbot grabbed hold of one of her hands, pulling it from her face.

“Let’s be fair, klar,” he stroked it while tenderly looking her in the eyes, “you were weird before this phenomenon.”

Klara snatched her hand, giving him a sly ‘whatever’ smile. He knew just how to make her feel better. That’s why he had become the only person she could trust when it came to things she couldn’t understand.

“Think of it as like some sort of power, hm?”

Klara sipped her latte, mulling it over.

“It can’t be a power. It’s not like I can save any of these people. They come into my dreams after they’re already dead.”

“Who said everyone with powers has to be a hero?”

Damn, Klara thought. He had a point.

“Fine.”

She sat back, lifting up her chin.

“Then tell me, oh wise sir, what shall I do with this... spectacular talent?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask.”

Talbot slammed his laptop onto the table, the browser page open and ready. Klara jumped in surprise.

“Did you have that waiting under the table the whole time?”

“Read it.”

Klara rolled her eyes, fixating her gaze upon the screen. She looked from one striking word in the article to the next, pinning phrases in her mind; fortune teller, witch, speaker of the dead.

“You want me to be a wacko physic?”

“I want you to make yourself some money.”

Klara’s brows lifted in curiosity. Talbot took that as a sign to continue.

“You don’t have to tell people their futures, the exact opposite really. Connect with the families that lost a loved one and give them some clarity and closure.”

Talbot clicked to another tab full of information on the topic.

“It won’t be like you’re taking advantage of families that lost someone dear to them because it’s true, you actually do see these people. You charge for your service, that’s all. And-”

Klara gently closed the laptop, abruptly stopping Talbot in the middle of his prepared speech. As if reading her mind, he knowingly rubbed the back of her hand with his.

“I hear you, Tal. It’s a good idea. I mean, I am poor.”

“You are poor, oppressed and a POC which basically screams ‘steal from the rich’ if you ask me.”

Klara sighed out some laughter.

“True. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to let the world know about all of…” she gestured to her head, “this yet.”

“I get that.”

Talbot grabbed both of her hands, looking his friend in the eyes.

“Drinks.”

Klara smiled, “strong drinks.”

She found it silly, being able to find comfort in another person when the thing she feared the most was within them all. Her whole life was turning out to be a contradiction. But perhaps, she thought, she was looking at it wrong. A gust of wind blew a pile of pumpkin stained and maroon leaves around outside. Perhaps it wasn’t a contradiction but that one thing complimented the other. Death was not to be feared, it was a thing to be accepted. It was a thing of beauty. And as brightly as life shone throughout all of them -- the buzzing sounds of a coffee shop, the pitter-patter of people hurrying to work outside -- death was in them all. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps knowing that one day will be your last, it would help a person to live each day as just that -- their last. Or, in contrast, the pressure could make that same person end it all before something else had the chance.

Klara shook her head. She was thinking too much again. Her thoughts were not her own nowadays, and she found herself analyzing every aspect of life as it is and after its course. She was aware she was no philosopher but she sure felt like it, sometimes. But though another may have a different take on the prospect of life and death, one thing would always remain certain.

Death was inevitable.

The two gathered their things, Klara wrapping herself up in a thick knitted scarf as they headed out for their next stop.

#nanowrimo #umber #pt 1 #day 1 #writings #original work

1 note · View note

12miraenie · 6 years

Text

Pieces

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Potential trigger for miscarriage?

Word Count: 5k+

Summary: The mirror is not broken, reflections are still as clear as day. It’s just the way you see yourself that’s changed.

A/N: Compiled up 2 anon’s request, here it is a long one. Proofread was as always...not done. Enjoy! 💕

✾ Link to Masterlist

“I’ll tell Nurse Ahn to bring in a cup of tea.”

The screeching sound of a chair being pulled back was followed by you hastily standing up and waving your hand to the doctor. Too distressed to think otherwise, you removed your jacket from the hanger along with your scarf and bowed down.

“Thank you but no, Doctor. I want to take some air.”

You avoided his eyes when you bowed once more and went out of his office. You didn’t need to look in his eyes to know what must be in them. Sorry, pity, sympathy. You didn’t want another to look at you like you are a broken piece of toy, the very thing your parents did when you woke up in a hospital bed.

You climbed the stairs to the roof with much difficulty, feeling like every organ was being lacerated by force with each step. There was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, and your hair was in messy strands around your face. Pushing open the iron door, you were greeted by a strong surge of winter wind. It sent shivers down your body, goosebumps were aligned on top your skin. With small steps, you walked over to the ledge and sat down against the railing. Tears spilled out the moment your body came in contact with the cold, hard ground.

Good thing your parents brought you to a private hospital. The floor was quiet, no busy in and outs or conversations buzzing in the hallway like regular hospitals. It was good nobody saw you running down the hall crying, hair in front of your face looking like a mess.

You shivered again and pulled your scarf tighter around your neck. If your parents saw you like this, they would take turns to scold you about not taking care of your health, especially since you’ve just come out of a big surgery.

It was supposed to be the first good night for you in three months. After the company project you’ve been working on was completed, you finally got the chance to rest, and your parents came to town to stay with you until Minseok’s done his conference in Japan. It was two hours before the scheduled arrival of your parents. You remember grocery shopping and cooking by yourself in the kitchen, and the next second dizziness came crashing down on you, and you struggled to stand all of a sudden. Before you could hold on to something to stable yourself, you had blacked out.

The next time you opened your eyes, a blur of people were around you, running along and pulling your stretcher in the hospital hallway and someone, probably an EMT shouting words. Most were just buzzings to you, but you still picked up a few.

“Pregnant patient with minor head injury…huge blood loss.”

The passing fluorescent lights above your head was the last thing you remembered seeing before darkness took over and you lost consciousness.

Did the result surprise you? You couldn’t come up with a definite answer, because you knew something was wrong long before. There were sudden fatigues, dizziness, or pain in your stomach region that you couldn’t pinpoint what the exact problem was. Busy with work back then, you blamed in on stress and lack of sleep and didn’t bother paying the doctors a visit. When you woke up in the hospital and talked to Doctor Kim, he opened the report and showed you what you had.

Severe anemia with iron deficiency.

The chance of miscarriage went up a lot because of your inherent problems, and you remembered his next words clearly, “This complication…is not something to be treated lightly. Because you were found and sent here an hour after the blackout, and the anemia symptoms started showing in the early stage of your pregnancy…Y/N, I think it would be unlikely for you to be pregnant again. I’m sorry.”

You clutched the railings tight in your hands, the coldness seeping into your palm fought off the nauseating feeling in your stomach and the bitterness of the bile coming from the back of your throat. It’s impossible for you to think that you were to blame for your own child’s death. How can you take that in lightly? To think that you killed a life. A baby that belongs to you and Minseok.

Oh god.

Your eyes shut tight like a reflex at the thought of Minseok. The last time you called him was a little before the accident at home, you guessed that he’s probably aware of what happened by now. Your parents are not exactly good secret keepers. You bit your lips as a sharp drop of tear escaped your eyes. You can’t even imagine what the kind of look in his eyes would be. Absolute devastation, probably. And when he learns the truth? When he finally realizes that the reason a your-his child’s gone was because of you? What would he think then?

You buried your face in both hands and sniffled. The cold wind left a stinging sensation when air went up your nostrils and more tears came out of your eyes. You didn’t want to see Minseok now, you are not physically and emotionally prepared.

You can’t even look him in the eyes.

Freshly showered and dressed in a robe, you snuggled up in two extra thick blankets and leaned your back on soft cushions on the uncomfortable hospital bed. You couldn’t even turn around without hitting the side. On the table next to you was the food your parents bought. They even got the fried shrimp from the food stand in Hongdae that people line up half an hour for. Your parents are not usually keen on breaking the supposedly “strict” rule that you have to eat according to doctor’s orders, they probably did all those to cheer you up.

Flicking the remote, you opened the TV and switched to a random drama. Scooting a bit down to a more comfortable position, you leaned your head on the headboard. An IV was still attached to your right hand, tracing your head up, you focused mindlessly on what you read 9% Normal Saline dripping down in a slow pace on the metal hanger.

You hated it. The needle has never left your hand since you woke up. You hated the hospital smell, the never changing menu of hospital food. You hated the way nurses look at you whenever they come in for check-ups. You hated the way your mom canceled her plans to visit her best friend in Europe and your dad dropping everything at work to stay at the hospital all day long. Every time you told them that you are okay, that whatever happened is in the past, they don’t believe you.

It took you one temper tantrum and two hours of explanations to get your parents to agree to only visit you during visiting hours and go home to sleep. They have been here for 50 or more hours and didn’t get one second of closed eyes. You were mentally drained by the time they said goodbye and closed the door behind them.

You can’t do it all by yourself.

It reminded you how much you miss Minseok. How much easier things would be if he’s here. Your mind went back to the previous times you were hospitalized. He is always the more thoughtful one, bringing you hot packs, reminding you to eat medicine, and holding your hand when you did blood tests and got injections. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest when your parents told you that he is on the plane back here, but your thoughts are over the place, and you are not sure if seeing Minseok would be a good idea for now.

Taking a sip of the water, you grimaced at its lukewarm taste. You turned your attention back to the TV and pressed down the remote to change channels again. The drama on screen was a sad one, and sadness wasn’t really something you were looking for at the moment. Turning up the volume, you tried to immerse yourself into a variety show you always loved. But somehow it’s hard to even lift the corner of your lips at the show that still gets you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Maybe the sound of the TV was too loud because when the door to your room was slid open harshly, you didn’t expect to see a panting Minseok with the nurse in attendance hot on his trail.

“Sir, visiting hours are over-“

She stopped talking when she saw you were still up.

“Hey, Soojin, this is my husband over there. Could you please maybe…give us a few minutes?”

The nurse you’ve grown to be friends with bit her lips before sighing eventually.

“Ok, ten minutes. It’s already against protocol.”

“Thank you, Soojin.”

She gave you a soft smile and closed the door behind her.

Minseok was frozen on the spot during the whole interaction between you and Soojin. He stayed motionless, the warm brown cashmere coat was still draped over his arms, the luggage tag still intact on his bag, and he was wearing the exact same clothes he packed for the conference. Minseok fixed his eyes on you. You were not one bit prepared to let him see you like this. Too sudden.

For a while, you just stared at each other. Him standing near the door and you leaning on pillows with barely enough energy to move. Then all of a sudden you burst into tears.

You were scooped into his arms the next second. Minseok’s hold on you was tight, tight enough to squeeze your ribs into one piece. The hospital gown was extremely flimsy, you shivered when your face came in contact with his coat. But it didn’t matter at all. You relished in his body heat and allowed yourself to finally let your guard down once. Surrounded by Minseok’s familiar scent, you convinced yourself that everything’s better now. Nothing else matters because he is here.

Minseok patted your back in a slow, steady pattern until your full sobs quieted down to bare whimpers. The bed dipped when he sat on the edge, and you felt his hands carefully moving the plastic tubing away before finding yours and intertwined your fingers together. His cold hands against your warm ones, but you’ve never felt better.

“Don’t cry. I’m here now.”

Minseok’s voice came out deep and raspy, and it only spurred you to clutch onto him tighter. As a matter of fact, Minseok really is your only savior, the only person you can hang on for dear life when everything comes down. He has been right beside you for better or for worse. Somehow at the moment your mind went back to your wedding vows when Minseok held your hand in his and said the words “I do.” while staring at you with enough determination and confidence to turn the sun around. You might be biased, but no one is better than Minseok as a husband.

You pulled away from each other, but Minseok didn’t let go of your hands. It was only then you really took in each other. His normally neatly styled hair was messy, strands falling out in different direction. There seemed to be a tension between his eyebrows, you can’t tell if they are creased or not. You moved your eyes from his bloodshot, slightly puffed eyes to the dark circles, and to his chapped lips that were pursed in a straight line.

“Min…”

You addressed him for the first time, there was a fragile edge to your voice that caused Minseok to frown and look at you concerningly. It was hard enough to say those words yourself already, and Minseok’s stare was making it harder. The thought in your head that you were trying so hard to get rid of resurfaced the second he walked in your room, and even though you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it’s not going anywhere. Not even after probably a thousand repetitions of you didn’t do this.

It’s not your fault.

“I…I lost our child.”

Once again, you buried yourself in his warmth as if it helps to keep you warm. But the cold, hard feeling from the bottom of your spine could hardly be ignored, and even you were wrapped in Minseok’s arms with a pool of blankets around you, you can’t help thinking about it. How it is your fault, and you killed your child.

“No.” Putting the finger on your lips, Minseok cut you off and shook his head, “Please don’t do this. Not now. I didn’t wait a whole day in Osaka airport for the first flight back here to listen to you blaming yourself. I’m here now. You haven’t lost me.”

You nodded, his tone believable enough for you to relax and focus on him instead. Minseok took off his coat and shoes and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sleep. It’s already late. I’ll stay here.“

His words triggered the underlying tiredness that took over your body in one second. The next thing you know, your eyes are closing, your brain is shutting down, and soon your head hit the pillow. Vaguely you remembered Minseok pulling up the blankets over your body and making sure you were comfortable.

The last thing you remembered was a kiss on your forehead before everything went black.

“What about that art show? You told me before that you wanted to go there.”

Not hearing a word from you, Minseok looked up from his laptop and frowned. You were staring at the front absently, only paying a sliver of attention on him or whatever he’s been talking about for the past ten minutes. He sighed loudly and shut the lid closed.

“Y/N?”

This time his voice got louder. “Hey, Y/N?”

You snapped your head up when Minseok called you the third time, returning from your train of thoughts. It worried Minseok quite a lot now, ever since you recovered you would go into these trances and just blankly staring into space and not paying attention to anything. At first, he thought it was just the side effect of the medicine you ate, but as time passed, it has gotten worse. Increasingly Minseok felt that you have been distancing yourself from him, almost like you did it on purpose. He’s confused and a little angry.

He’s been trying everything to make you happy. You smiled less, went out less, and spoke less. You chose to stay behind the closed doors of your bedroom at home, and even if you are out with him, you don’t seem happy. Heck, Minseok can’t even remember the last time you really had a conversation together.

“Ok. You need to tell me what the problem is. I can’t do this on my own.”

You frowned, eyebrows slightly arched as you turned your attention to him and blinked slowly.

“Do what?“

Minseok sighed, exasperated breath leaving his mouth. “Are you serious? Do you not know the problem? I mean, shouldn’t you know the best if you are the one treating your spouse like a stranger?”

You tugged on the corner of your mouth, letting out a huff. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Min.” You shook your head and leaned down to take a sip of your water. This seemed to agitate Minseok more because he became apparently more aggravated, and louder.

“Really? I know you said you wanted space, but it’s been three months already! And I am tired of my wife distancing herself from me? I am your husband for god’s sake! You should be able to tell me everything!”

“It’s not about the...the accident-” You gulped, still unable to say the word out loud. The mug thudded against the table when you tried to make eye contact with him under the dim kitchen light, but Minseok turned away before you could do so.

“See, this is exactly where the problem is. You still can’t face it, Y/N. How can you get over it if you can’t even admit you had a misc-“

“Stop! Ok? Look, I don’t know what’s with you tonight, Min. Trust me. It’s not about that.” Your fingers clicked the table top with each word. You were getting irritated as well. You admit you were different than before, but he shouldn’t have the audacity to accuse you of not paying him enough attention when something as heartbreaking as losing a child happened to you. Not just your body, your emotions too.

“Trust you? Ok, if this isn’t the problem, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong.“ Minseok threw his hands up in the air and huffed. He pushed through his hair and stared at you dead in the eye, “Are you having an affair? Cheating on me?”

You were already on the brink of losing control, and when he said that you just snapped.

“You know what? I never thought you were such an attention seeker before. My world doesn’t go around you, ok? So what if I am cheating? Huh?”

You stood up, anger already burning in full scale. “How can you ask me to move on when I lost a baby-our child from my body? Do you even understand that feeling when you wake up and suddenly can’t feel that extra weight, that extra heart beating inside? You don’t fucking understand, Minseok.”

He went silent for a while and took a position of leaning against the counter.

“You could have talked, communicated with me about everything. You should have done all that to get it off your chest. I don’t know what you are so reluctant to do that.” He shook his head in disappointment.

Blind anger and hurt drowned out your logic at the moment when you blurted out, “If this is what you think, if you can’t even understand me this much, then we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

You turned around abruptly to your bedroom and slammed the door behind you, leaving Minseok standing in the kitchen. Tears flowed out the moment you squeezed your eyes shut and leaned against the door. Your hands were clutching the door handle so tight trying not to let your emotions go to overdrive.

No sound was made from the outside. After taking a few deep breaths and hastily wiping away your tears, you walked to the closet and pulled out a suitcase and started throwing everything in. You had no time to fill half of it before the door burst open, revealing a Minseok in obvious distress, who froze when he saw the suitcase.

All sense of anger was gone in his eyes, and panic took over his features.

“What are you doing?“

A humorless laugh escaped your mouth as you threw another article of clothing in. “Can’t you see? What else is packing for then?“

Minseok reached you in three long strides and took hold of your arm. “No, you are not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”

His eyes were clouded with frustration, but the panic and anxiety behind his eyes were not exactly concealed in plain sight. His hold on you was strong, but not enough to make you hurt. It almost felt like he’s pleading, holding on to you like he depended on it.

“You can’t leave me like this, Y/N. I can’t-I won’t lose you too.”

Tears that threatened to come out of your eyes didn’t make it before you masked your emotions behind an emotionless face. You shook your arm away from his hold and turned sideways to zip up your suitcase. God it hurt when you looked at him from under your lashes and breathed out, “You can’t do anything if I want to leave, Minseok. You can’t hold me here.”

Minseok dropped his arm and looked down dejectedly. He didn’t look once as you shrugged on a jacket and tugged your suitcase past him into the living room and eventually out of the door.

“Oh god, what have I done?“

Minseok pushed his body up and reached over to his phone reluctantly. His head hurt like hell, and he cursed under his breath when he squinted at the screen. Who the heck calls at 2 in the morning?

His mind got clearer when he recognized the caller ID almost immediately. It belongs to one of your friends, he remembered you telling him that you went to college and took the same history class. He frowned, why would she call him right now?

“Hello?”

He pulled his phone away from his ear immediately. The other end was too loud, hurting his eardrums with what sounded like base and synth music only a nightclub would play. Before he can say anything else, a voice made him sat up instantly.

“Seokie. Minseokie. Why aren’t you here already? They have the best club music here, and the DJ is so hot.”

A string of giggles and laughs followed suit, and although Minseok can’t help furrow his eyebrows when you mentioned the DJ, he cared more about something else. Like where you are, or what the fuck you are doing in a club.

“What are you do-Just tell me where you are, ok? Are you in a club?” Minseok put his phone closer despite how much his ears hurt from all the noise. You were definitely drunk, slurring all your words and making it hard for him to know what you are talking about.

“Hello? Y/N?”

Minseok threw away his blanket and hurried to put some clothes on.

“Hey! Y/N, are you there?”

After some shufflings on the other end, Minseok was greeted with your friend’s voice. “Minseok? Is it you?”

He had no time for pleasantries and cut straight to the topic, “Where is she? Just give me an address.”

The loud pumping bass made Minseok frown. He has always hated clubs, hated the skyrocketed amount of alcohol people consume there, hated the barely dressed girls who press onto random people, and hated whatever goes on in the hallways or behind doors.

He squeezed through a mountain of people before he could see the bar clearly. Although it was 2 am, people seemed to be having the time of their lives in the club. Minseok saw your friend almost immediately, standing at the end of the bar looking at her phone. As he got closer, he spotted you too. Although you had your head down leaning on the bar counter, he couldn’t have mistaken you for anybody else.

Minseok grabbed your shoulders gently and put an arm around you protectively. Your friend looked up to find him, and a relieved expression took over her features. She shouted over the music, “I’m sorry, she wanted to destress, and I couldn’t stop her, so I had to follow her here to make sure she’s alright. She only drank and never left the bar.”

Minseok nodded curtly when you stirred in his arms. You got up from the bar stool and staggered before turning around and looked him fully in the eye.

“Seokie! You are here!” You said in an artificially high voice, making Minseok frown. It was so obvious that you drank, and by the look of it, you drank more than one shot.

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you? How much?” The last question was directed to your friend, who shrugged and tugged her lips.

“I told her to stop after the third one, but I don’t know, she thrashed around. I didn’t want her to cause a scene.“

Minseok put both hands on your shoulder securely, “Come on, you are leaving right now.”

You giggled and snaked your arms around his waist. Pulling him closer, you tiptoed and whispered in his ear, “Come on, Seokie. Dance with me.”

Minseok’s stare only hardened. He removed your arms from him and gave you a stern look.

“No. I’m taking you home.“

Strangely, you stopped protesting on the way out. Minseok made a path in the crowd and had one arm out to shield you from bumping into other people. You shivered from the chilly wind and Minseok shrugged off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders.

He helped you get in and buckled your seatbelt when you stared at him wordlessly, with something unreadable glossed over your eyes. He wasn’t sure if you were conscious enough to know what’s going on, but you didn’t even blink looking at him. You leaned on the passenger seat when Minseok started the engine.

“When was the last time we had fun together? Like real fun? So strange, I can remember you doing the same thing picking me up from a party in college. Whose was it? Chanyeol? Jongin? I can’t remember.”

You turned your head sideways and looked at Minseok’s side profile. Your cute pout and drunken babblings would have a different effect on him otherwise, but both of his hands were gripping on the steering wheel and no visible emotion was shown on his face. He seemed to be paying full attention to the road, without even casting an eye to you.

“You are no fun when you are Minseok. I missed Seokie…but it doesn’t matter. When I’m with you, I am happy. Really happy.” You dragged the last word longer on your tongue and pouted. Crossing your arms in front of you, you leaned even closer to him. The seatbelt was straining your actions, and you hissed when it slid across your collarbones roughly. A redlight happened at the same time, Minseok hit the pedal when you fell back to the car seat.

You giggled and reached one hand over to touch his arm. “Oh, I didn’t know you can be this blunt, Seokie. And rough…but I like it.”

Minseok sighed out loud and grabbed your hand to put it back in your lap. In normal circumstances, he would laugh and roll his eyes at your not so subtle at all flirting, but other things were occupying the entirety of his mind at the moment. Like the fact you turned up in a club utterly wasted, like how you didn’t contact him after leaving for 2 weeks, like what exactly went wrong between you two.

You woke up knowing it was the worst morning you’ve ever had in a long time, worse than the time you went out for cocktail tasting with Minseok. Your head felt like it’s been pounded repeatedly by an iron hammer, and your limbs were beyond your body’s control. You groaned at the sunlight hitting your face and turned sideways, unexpectedly hitting something warm. You stiffened and opened one eye, squinting at what’s in front of you. Everything was too bright, but unmistakenly you were inches away from a person. Your eyes widened the moment you tried to piece everything together. Did something happen last night? You tried hard to recall any event from last night, but your mind was of a useless haziness. You jolted up immediately despite how much more your head hurt at the movement. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you tried to process what exactly was going on, before coming face to face with Minseok still lying down on the bed but staring at you with his eyes.

You breathed out loud in relief when you realized it was just Minseok and brushed your hair back. It was hard, not to say awkward, to even maintain eye contact with him after you left that night. You shifted a little further away and leaned your head against the headboard.

“We need to talk.“

Minseok threw the cover off and walked away, leaving his back facing you as he went out of the bedroom. He returned with two tablets and a glass of water, and you took them over gingerly. You gulped down the whole glass hungrily and placed the empty glass on the bedstand.

“Why?”

You didn’t need him to explain further to understand. He was asking you why you left. But how could you tell him? How could you tell him that you can no longer be pregnant? You looked at Minseok once again and took in the sullen look on his face.

He was no better than you in the past two weeks.

You bit down on your lips and took a deep breath, deciding the tell him the truth. He deserves that, more than anyone else.

“It’s not only a miscarriage, Minseok. I…we can never have a baby again.”

The big moment where Minseok gets all disappointed, angry and slams the door and leave didn’t play out according to your script. He was still in the same position, didn’t even bat an eyelash when you revealed the truth. You frowned, this is not the reaction he should have right now.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know?“ Minseok crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, “Y/N, your parents told me the moment I got to the hospital.”

You were at a loss for words. So he knew it from the beginning. All of your stresses, pent-up frustrations and worries were for nothing?

“I didn’t know you put that little faith in me, Y/N. You really thought I would leave you for that?”

“But…” You know how much he loves kids. From day 1 of your relationship, you knew Minseok is an absolute fan of children. So are you. As you all grew older and got married, Minseok would gush over newborn kids from either your friends or his. You were 100% sure that one day you two would have a little life cradled in your arms too. Not being able to have a kid would devastate Minseok, you were sure of that. He could have a way better life without you now.

“Why me? Why didn’t you leave?”

“I didn’t marry you because of other reasons. I married you because you are you and because you’ve shown me what love can feel like. No other person can do that.”

Minseok sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his arms, tight enough for you to feel every curve of his muscle under his t-shirt. Close enough for you to hear his every heartbeat.

“You are the one, Mrs. Kim. I should have never let you out that door that night, and I’m never letting you go again.”

51 notes · View notes

jbsargent · 6 years

Text

Romantic Relationship Day - Kiss Goodnight [Original Fic Fest]

Another day to share something for @originalficfest , this time it’s Romantic Relationships Day! I’m hoping a one-sided, unrequited love might still suffice! This is a short story of the love a candle feels for the young lady whose life it lights up. I thought about doing just a small sample of it, but I like it too much. You can read this and other stories on my blog, if you’re so inclined.

***

I’m stuck wherever I’m placed, but where I’m placed is always important. I came into this world with a spark from a cigarette lighter, pulled out of a womb of plastic and cardboard, set down in a small, tin wax catcher to sit on an end table. I had a perfect view of the festivities.

“Happy birthday, Hannah.”

“Thanks, bro.”

The den was full, standing room only. People gathered around a young blond woman, who sat in front of a white cake, speared with thin, colorful candles that ran the spectrum of the rainbow. “Can I blow them out now?” she asked, shifting in her chair.

“No, no way. We gotta sing.”

Everyone laughed before taking in big gasps of air. They belted out a song, and I danced about, my back against the wall. Shadows danced with me, on the walls behind their owners. We had our own little party, me and my projected friends. Hannah blew out her candles, and people cheered, as if she had completed some great feat, or more likely because they could eat. Someone set a stack of small paper plates and a knife onto the table, and murmurs rumbled through the collective about how good the cake looked. Hannah’s brother leaned in, setting a hand on the birthday girl’s shoulder.

“Hey…where’s Terry?” he whispered.

Hannah’s eyes jumped around the room before settling on an empty plate. She turned her head slightly to her brother. “I don’t know Mart.”

The subject had been dropped when someone passed her a plate with a slice of cake. As the night went on, people laughed as I continued to sway, until someone asked to turn the lights back on. The den light outshined me in an instant, flooding the rooms with fluorescent light, as it tended to do in its quick and brilliantly showy nature. The shadows I cast were minimal now, limited to the curios on the end table with me. I watched as Hannah mingled, lithely sweeping through the room to have small conversations about how “We should hang out more,” and “What a lovely place you have here.”

The night grew later, and I grew a bit shorter. People began wrapping themselves in coats and scarves to brave the cold Midwestern evening. You could smell the crispness whenever someone opened the door. The home cleared out quickly, and it was just Hannah, me, and Mart.

“You want me to stay for a bit?” Mart said as he slowly shoved his hands in his pockets, watching Hannah shuffle away from the door.

“No,” the girl sighed, gathering up plates from their resting places, conceived out of pure laziness. “I’ll be fine. I think I just want to spend some time alone.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Why wasn’t Terry here, like, at all?”

Hannah dashed by me, and for a moment I was caught up in her swiftness. She stopped at the trashcan at the end of the counter, dumping her refuse into its open mouth. “Wish I could tell you Mart.”

“Going out for like three months and he can’t show up for your birthday? Swell guy.”

“Might not be for much longer.” Hannah grabbed a scarf from the rack near the door, and swung it around the back of Mart’s neck. “I’m a big girl – I can take care of myself.”

“Alright then, just…keep me posted,” Mart slid his arms into his coat and turned to the door. “Don’t leave that candle burning. You wanna set your new house on fire?”

“Yeah yeah, get going. Drive safe.”

Mart closed the door quietly behind him. It was just her and me now. Hannah took a deep breath, setting her hands on the end of the counter as she stared off at nothing.

I’m sorry Hannah. I’m here though. Just…notice me.

Hannah looked my way, and I swayed to get her attention. Her head tipped to one side, and her shoulders sank as she drifted away into thought. Her cell phone rang, and she checked the display. She let it ring for what felt like a year, we could have celebrated another birthday.

“Hello?” she answered. “Yeah. No, everyone’s gone already.” She listened for a moment. “No, I want to be alone tonight.”

Oh, you want to be alone.

“Don’t bother. Good night.”

Hannah clapped her phone shut with one hand and threw it into the room, onto the couch next to me. She continued to clean up, and I just flickered. When she was done, she shut off the lights to the kitchen and noticed my light brightening up the room again. She walked over to the end table and bent down, looking at me. I could see myself dancing in her eyes.

Don’t worry about it, Hannah.

Her hand reached up behind my head, and she pursed her lips. My first kiss goodnight.

The next time I woke, it was just Hannah and me. I flickered and danced, my light bouncing off the bevelled tiles on the bathroom walls. She set a smoking match down onto my tin base, and then turned away, sinking deeper until water reached up to her bare shoulders. She let out a relieved sigh, brushing the water up onto her collar, the thin sheen reflecting my light on her soft neck. Seems it was a time for relaxing, and I figured that would be fine.

Let’s just enjoy a night to ourselves, Hannah. You deserve it.

Hannah dried her fingers on a towel draped over the edge of the tub, and then she lifted an open book from a tray next to her. Her head leaned back against the wall, and she raised the book to my light. Over our time together, Hannah’s legs swept up from under the water’s surface before slinking back down, leaving one knee, glimmering with a watery veil, just above the water. She swept through the pages of her book with the blade of her finger.

Are you liking the book? I don’t read as fast as you, so I only catch some of what’s going on, but I like what I do get to read. Heh, sorta sounds my like my life – I spend it sleeping so much of the time, only getting to see you and what’s going on when you need my light. I don’t mind though, coming out for special things likes birthdays, dinners, love-making sessions, and relaxing bath times. I get to be there for the fun. But Hannah, I hope things go well for you when I’m not there to give you my warmth.

In some respects, it was strange to see her like this. Hannah was surrounded by people, but seemed distressed about one person that wasn’t there. Now, though, she was happy, relaxed even. I hope she can hold onto that feeling.

I woke up to Can’t Let You Go by Matchbox Twenty playing from the speakers in the cabinet. Hannah was rushing around with her usual swiftness, the hem of a floral skirt following closely behind her. I caught a glimpse of my form in wine glasses on either side of me. The oven beeped, and Hannah darted back across the dining room. She cursed under her breath trying to put oven mitts on when her cell phone rang. She wrestled a dish off of the top rack and set it on the stovetop, pulling the mitts from her hands as she made her way to the table, where her phone sat, ringing.

“Hey, are you almost here?” Hannah answered. She leaned against the table, her hip pressing on the edge. “What? Stephen…”

I’ve heard that tone before. Her weight shifted, her nice skirt bunching up on the table.

“That’s not fair. We’ve had this night planned for a week.”

That phone, it’s nothing but bad news Hannah.

“No, fine. Whatever. Have a good night.”

Hannah clapped her phone shut, and clenched it in a trembling hand. She slapped it down onto the table, and the silverware clanked as it hopped on the wood.

Oh, Hannah.

The girl pushed off the table, grabbing one of the plates as she left. After a few moments, she returned with a plate full of vegetables and a marinated chicken breast. The smell was delightful, us fires, you see, we do good work. She poured herself some wine, and my bright form was more pronounced against the red in the glass. She left the bottle unstopped as she set it down, and then sliced into her chicken breast, my light glaring off the blade of her knife.

You seem upset, again.

I flickered, and she glanced at me as she took a bite of her dinner. She exhaled sharply as she chewed, and it almost blew me away.

Careful, I’ll stay as long as you want me to.

Hannah ate the rest of her dinner in silence, every once in a while checking her phone and tapping on the number pad. Sending passive-aggressive messages, if her expression was any indication. By the end of her meal, her nerves had calmed considerably, but she didn’t have that same content look to her like before. She set her fork down on her plate in such a way that it produced no sound. She looked at me again, and sighed.

See, I’m still here. I haven’t disappointed you, have I?

Hannah leaned toward me, cradling my swaying form in her cupped hand. I saw myself swinging in her eyes, but they trembled as tears formed.

Don’t cry, Hannah.

She blew me another kiss.

“Yeah, the power is out in the whole neighborhood,” Hannah said, speaking into the phone pinched between her ear and shoulder.

She shook her hand, putting out the match and tracing a thin ribbon of smoke through the air. My light was the only in the room, or even in the house for that matter. Rain battered against the window, tiny wet fingers tapping against the glass in indiscriminate waves.

“It’s okay. I’ll just read here with a candle. The power will probably come back on before I wake up.” Hannah set the pitch-tipped stick on my tin base, before sitting down in the couch next to me.

Things seemed much more different in this dark than they did in the dark of the birthday party. Hannah was the only one in the house, and I was the sole light source. I was responsible for all shadows that swayed on the walls. It seemed like a monumental task, but I felt more than up for it; I was still tall, still bright.

Just the two of us, right? We’re not waiting on anyone else?

“No, he’s gone - we’re done.” Hannah replied.

Done? So you’re alone then. Are you upset?

“No…y’know, it’s good. It’s better that I spend some time being happy with myself.”

You think so?

“Yeah. I should focus on myself.”

That’s a good idea, Hannah.

Hannah turned her head and watched me sway in the dark. “Yeah, I can’t keep clinging to garbage relationships just to have someone there. I’ve noticed I’m a lot less stressed when I’m alone.”

Alone with your candlelight, right?

“Yeah, exactly.” Hannah chuckled. “It’s better this way, for now at least.”

That’s great to hear.

“No, no I won’t burn the house down. I’ll talk to you later. Have a good night, bro. Stay dry.” Hannah closed her phone and let it drop into her lap.

She reached forward to the table in front of her, sliding a small, hardcover book into her hands. A flash of light outshined mine from the window for a brief moment, before relinquishing the darkness back to me. Hannah turned her head from her book and looked out the window, the night and the rain making the outside a glossy black. She began to count, whispering the numbers with a timely pause between. By the count of eight, a low growl moved over the house, rattling the window in its sill. Hannah nodded, turning back to her book.

“We’re gonna be here for a while,” Hannah said, looking at me.

We? I danced happily. That’s fine, we’ll just relax here.

The sound of the rain was soothing, mixed with the intermittent flaps of the pages Hannah turned. Thunder continued sparingly, and Hannah ignored the lightning, keeping her attention to the book. It was nice, not having to worry about a call from someone to disappoint her, I was happy to see her in genuine contentment, after the trouble at the end of her birthday, as well as the trouble before her dinner.

It wasn’t long before Hannah had fallen asleep, her open book resting on its pages on her chest. The rain had subsided, all I could hear was her breathing. In this darkness, there truly was nothing but her and me. I had grown shorter, there wasn’t much left of me now. My wick was on its last inches, the oil of my wax drying up. I flickered.

Hannah, it looks like I’ll be going soon. I’m sorry to leave you, but at least we got to spend time together without that phone of yours disappointing you. I suppose, in a way, I’m just like those boyfriends – we had some good times, but in the end I’ll be leaving, sure as the sun rises in the morning. At least with me, you knew I wouldn’t be around forever. Even then, I never let you down, and I enjoyed this time with you. I shouldn’t have cared so much about getting your attention. I should have realized that I was important enough just because you chose to have me there. My existence, though short-lived like all lives, is brilliant in its own small way.

Hannah turned in her sleep, her head leaning toward the end table where I sat. Down to the last of my wick, smothered in melted wax, my fire shrank. Yet, as my light disappeared, sunlight began to pour into the living room from the front window. A small beam moved between the branches of the tree in the front yard, and landed across Hannah’s lips. The tip of my wick dulled from orange to black, a silver ribbon of smoke rising from it, swaying like a hand waving farewell.

Good night.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you think!

#originalficfest #writeblr #writing #fiction #short story #spilled ink #love #unrequited love

6 notes · View notes