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fuctacles · 2 years ago

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Henderson's older brother is kinda fine :/ [Part II]

me: I'll write a blurb and nothing else popular demand: *slides into my DMs* [Part I] [Part III]

They finished Eddie's assignment that first day but Dustin invited him over again the next week. He told him to bring whatever homework he has, and they can brainstorm it together.

This time Eddie braced himself as he approached the door, expecting to run into the older brother again. But to his surprise, Dustin was the one to open the door.

"They left you unsupervised?" He raised his eyebrows as he stepped past his friend.

Dustin rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.

"Very funny. Steve had the morning shift today, but he should be back for dinner."

"Ah, the things we could get up to until then," Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief but Dustin slapped him in the stomach with the strength of a dwarf.

"Yeah, like helping you graduate."

"Oof," Eddie winced, twisting away from his deceitfully powerful hands. "You're no fun, Henderson. Where is your adventurous spirit?"

"At the DnD table, duh."

"Touché."

So Eddie put on his mom-charming pants (they worked the best when no actual moms were involved, just like all his other pants) and did not go looting around his friend's house. Instead, he spread his latest assignments on Dustin's bed, claiming it as his territory for the time being. Dustin worked on his own stuff at his desk, like a civilized human being. Barf.

An hour of relative silence had passed before Dustin set down whatever he was doing and turned in his chair.

"I think you're like Lucas."

It took Eddie a moment to even process the words. He looked up to find his younger friend propped up on his elbow and staring at him.

"Huh?"

"I think you might be like Lucas," he repeated with his customary eye roll.

Eddie thought about the sporty jock-wannabe Sinclair, scrunching his nose.

"How?"

Dustin seemed pleased to be asked that as he sat up eagerly to proceed with his reasoning. Which were for sure very scientific and not pulled out of his ass. Eddie braced himself for an impromptu lecture.

"His grades dropped when he got his own room. But he aced all his tests when it was being painted, and he had to bunk with Erica for a few days. So, we made an experiment and whenever he would study or do homework with someone else in the room, it got better results than when he worked alone," he paused, eyeing his friend. "Are you following?"

Eddie clicked his tongue.

"What I'm following is you used your friend as a test subject."

The boy threw his hands in the air in the way that always made Eddie grin. The kid was so delightfully dramatic.

"For his benefit. And now for yours!"

Eddie huffed in thought, simultaneously hopeful to find a solution for his skittery brain and irritated it might have been that easy this whole time.

"So I just need a study buddy?" he asked, scrunching his nose.

"Yep," Dustin grinned at him. "I know your uncle isn't home most of the time, but you're welcome here whenever you need to work on something."

Eddie mulled that thought in his head, weighing pros and cons and asking his gut how it felt about it. His gut likes the food in Henderson's house though, so it might be a bit biased.

"You know what, Henderson? I just might take you up on that."

As if on cue, the front door opened and closed, the sound of keys dropping in the bowl following.

"Dustin?"

"Up here!" Dustin hollered and if Eddie was a lesser man, with shittier taste in music, it might have damaged his earbuds. But they were honed in by the sweet tones of metal, therefore a screeching teenager was not enough to break them at this point.

"Oh, hi Eddie!" Steve was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and hair not as magnificent as Eddie got used to seeing, a poster boy from a hairspray commercial no more. Ah, what capitalism does to people.

"Your hair looks sad," he observed with a slight tilt of his head.

"Uh," the guy raised his hand to his hair, pulling at the flat fringe self-consciously. "Well, sorry I didn't have the energy to doll myself back up after 8 hours of customer service."

Eddie snorted.

“Doll yourself up? Who says that?”

“I do,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms but the reddening apples of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Good. What grown-ass man refers to himself as a doll? Even one looking like an animated Ken. But that would be dark magic, which Eddie of course doesn't condone.

“I think Robin started it,” Dustin offered, unhelpfully. “She was trying to bully him, but it backfired because he actually likes it.” He made a disgusted face.

“Hey!”

“A doll, Steve? That’s kinda gay,” Eddie shook his head feigning disappointment. Instead of morphing into irritation though, Steve’s face hardened, and suddenly he remembered his nerdy friend’s brother was actually a jock. Former, reformed, doesn't matter. Abs were abs.

“Yeah? And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, eyes set on Eddie, unblinking.

He took a quick glance around the room. The window was open, but it was the first floor and Gareth would kill him if he broke as much as a finger again. So he dusted off the little matchbox of courage that was left somewhere inside him, and offered:

“Uh, nothing? Gays are cool. Dolls are cute. All is good.” He stretched his lips in the best attempt at a smile he could muster right now.

Steve still has not blinked, which was starting to stress Eddie out. Were his eyes always this piercing? He was staring for too long, could match their exact shade to one of the trees surrounding the trailer park by now, but was too afraid to look away. If he showed weakness, he might get chewed alive, spat out and stomped on, for a good measure.

“Good,” Steve said finally, and Eddie could breathe again. “We don’t badmouth gays in this household.”

“We don’t,” Dustin nodded feverishly, eager to get his brother out of the room. This indeed seemed to appease him, as he finally unclenched his jaw, uncrossed his arms and rapped his knuckles against the door frame.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and start on the dinner. You stayin’?” he asked, eyes back on Eddie, who was paralyzed enough, that Dustin had to swoop in and answer for him.

“Yep, he’s staying.”

“‘Kay,” Steve slapped the door frame, suddenly smiling again, and closed the door. If not for the slow breeze from the open window, Eddie would be already dead in the vacuum-sealed room, because he surely took away all the oxygen on his way out.

He scooted on the bed to face Dustin, who was about to open a book and start reading like whatever had just happened hadn’t just happened.

“Soo, is Steve…?”

Dustin looked at him. Eddie looked at him back.

“Is Steve what?” Dustin prodded, in that annoyed tone of his.

Eddie was a wordsmith, he could write and lead campaigns, produce not-half-bad lyrics and lie his way out of trouble. Usually. He got this.

He opened his mouth. Frowned. He did not get this.

“Gay?” he asked quietly.

“Pshhh, no,” Dustin waved his hand. “He’s a ladies' man.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie nodded like the bobbing head figurine on his uncle’s dashboard. “Then why…”

Dustin shrugged, the unhelpful bastard.

“I think his father is a homophobe? And Steve was kind of a jerk a few years back, he’s trying to be better now. Overcompensating a bit, if you ask me but eh,” he shrugged again. The helpfulest kid in Hawkins. Baby Henderson opened his book, closing the topic, so Eddie fell back on the bed, taking a well-needed break from his study break.

Normally, when the topic of gays was brought up, it was unpleasant and long-winded, full of exchanged opinions, usually hateful ones. Here, the Hendersons were treating it like small talk, not the can of worms that just opened in Eddie’s stomach. Okay, gross. They would crawl around, who knows in which direction? And the can itself? So many sharp edges, so unsanitary.

Needless to say, it wasn’t something Eddie would forget about quickly like they seemed to expect him to.

Alas, he was Dustin’s study-guest, so the kid gave him five minutes to ponder on the worms crawling inside him, before slapping the side of his head with a book to get him back on track. He wouldn’t even let him out on a leak pass until he showed he was done with the chapter he started.

Finally free for a second, Eddie left the bathroom but instead of returning to Dustin’s room, he was lured downstairs by the atrocious sounds of ABBA. Was ABBA gay? He was going to overthink everything now, wasn’t he? Honestly, the whole pop genre felt gay. Metal, that was manly as fuck. Very heterosexual.

For a second he stood in the kitchen’s door frame watching the older Henderson sway his hips around in a yellow apron. It would be almost endearing if the music didn’t make his brain try to collapse on itself.

He quickly approached the radio and slammed the pause button to save the poor man from further eardrum damage.

“What is this?” he asked when Steve turned to face him.

“Uh. The radio?” he frowned, the poor guy having no idea what he was saying. The top 40 made him delirious.

“What was the radio playing?” Eddie asked in his most condescending tone, eyebrows raised.

“.... ABBA?”

Eddie scoffed.

“I’ll bring you some real music, hang on a second.” And he was gone, on a quest to educate the masses. “Masses” being one Steve Henderson, but as an older brother and Dustin’s role model he had a duty to uphold and Eddie was generous enough to help him out.

He ran out to his car and rummaged through his cassettes, wondering which one was most appropriate for a cooking background. Not a thing he would practice himself, but metalheads eat too, sometimes, so it couldn't be such a farfetched concept. Right?

Eventually, he dumped an armful of tapes on the counter, grinning at Steve wildly.

“One of them has to work for…” he waved a hand in the general direction of chopped-up vegetables. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I will not believe you haven't cooked before.”

Eddie only shrugged at that and popped the first tape of choice into the player. Steve frowned at the tunes but wisely didn't object.

“Since you’re making yourself comfortable in my kitchen, why don’t you help me out a bit?”

“Ah, I’d love to, but there’s this solo I just have to-” he broke into an elaborate air guitar, imitating the riffs from memory while banging his head. He couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he was undoubtedly impressed. Eddie looked metal as fuck. He was super cool, super manly.

“I thought you were just taking a dump but then, guess what? I hear Iron Maiden from the kitchen!”

What wasn’t cool, was being scolded by a fourteen-year-old.

“Got lured by the sweet tunes, huh, big guy?”

“Dustin please, take him away from me.”

Dustin looked between the older boys, one maniacally jumping around, the other wielding a knife and a carrot. He considered his chances and favorable outcomes.

“If we switch to Metallica I’ll help with cooking,” he offered, to which Steve shrugged and Eddie gleefully switched the tapes.

He jumped around, watching the two Hendersons work together and to his absolute terror, he felt a teeny tiny desire to join in. Thankfully, his pride was still hidden beneath a half-dead tree.

He circled them like a curious cat, getting closer and closer, until his face almost squished against Steve’s arm, still dutifully chopping.

“What are we making?”

“We,” Steve accentuated, jostling the intruder's head. “Are making baked vegetables. You are jumping around like a lunatic.”

Eddie gasped.

“I am providing entertainment!”

“Can you provide the baking pan?” Dustin asked dryly. “It’s in the oven.”

“Only if it means I get to taste the fruits of my hard work.”

“You don’t have to help us to get dinner.” Steve bumped his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “But, helpers get an extra cookie.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie was truly a genius. He got to help out his fake little brother and his older brother without outwardly asking to be included! And to think he failed senior year twice.

“Go do your nerdy things, I’ll call you when it’s done,” Steve wiped his hands on a towel, food in the oven and the timer set. Dustin was more than happy to leave, and was first to run up the stairs. Eddie was about to follow but a light tug on his shirt stopped him. He turned around, confused, only to be met with Steve pressing a finger to his lips, which, more confusion.

Not easing his grasp, he pulled him back into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, where he grabbed a jar and popped it open, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

“One,” he ordered, and without having to be told twice, Eddie reached in to find a chocolate chip cookie.

“You trying to poison me?” he asked, even if his tongue was one slip away from tasting the treat.

“I would never put poison in my baking,” Steve made a face like the mere suggestion offended him. Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“You made this?”

“Fucking- Eat it before Dustin comes looking for you. I’m trying to be nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, putting the jar back away.

Eddie felt a little bad for pushing him, but only a little. He finally put the cookie in his mouth and took a bite.

Holy shit.

“This is so fucking good!” he mumbled, crumbs flying everywhere, which earned him a disgusted expression.

“Good thing I haven’t swept yet,” Steve murmured, looking at the floor with disdain. “Now scram. Don’t show up until dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Eddie saluted, crumbs dripping, and ran away, before Steve’s deadly kitchen rag could reach his butt.

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 [Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

#mine #steddie #ff #eddie munson #st #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #fanfic #Steve henderson #steve is a henderson #eddie is an idiot #older brother steve #the hendersons #The Hendersons

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heavens-moonlight · 1 year ago

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𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟮 : 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗨𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗟𝗬 𝗘𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧

𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 | 𝟬𝟯 : 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦

Author’s Note: Well, here we go...The game has finally started but who will survive? As always, let me know your thoughts and all comments are greatly appreciated! ♡

The dorms are much more spacious than anticipated as Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won beeline for the sole coffee table in the middle of the room, occupying either side. You instead, opt to unceremoniously plop yourself down onto one of the sizeable bunk beds, plugging your phone in to charge, having depleted the power source earlier on the bus ride over.

With a familiar chime, the battery icon flashes, but you do a double take as you realize the bar has gone back up to more than 50%. "That's strange..." you whisper more to yourself than anyone, but Yoon-Seo hears you.

"What is?"

You flip over onto your stomach and turn your phone screen toward her. "Look." You point to the upper right corner, forefinger tapping at the yellow bar, lightning symbol on display. "I'm sure it was at 26% earlier but all of a sudden it's paused at nearly double what it was previously."

"Maybe you mixed up the percentages?" Yoon-Seo suggests.

"I don't think so..." You scratch your head in confusion as Yoon-Seo shrugs, neither of you having a clue in the slightest.

"Electronics are good when they work," Jung-Won says, padding over to the chair by your head where Yoon-Seo left her backpack. You place the phone face-down on the nightstand and see her slip a small gift box inside the unzipped bag, making a shushing motion with her pointer finger against her lips. Smiling, you mimic the locking of a key and throw it away behind you, keeping Yoon-Seo's birthday surprise between the two of you. "Ugh, I need to take a coding lecture but my laptop's failing to connect to the internet."

Yoon-Seo scoots her back against the side railing of your bed and crosses her arms, tsking at Jung-Won. "You keep badgering me nonstop for reading, but who else except you would willingly study during a school trip?" Yoon-Seo shakes her head. "Stop acting like the top of the class, Madame Mensa."

Jung-Won doesn't look up from her laptop screen, monotonously correcting the nickname. "Mensa is the name of the organization. You're supposed to say Mensan for the people. How many times do I have to tell you?"

You laugh at the habitual repartee between them, but get cut off by a ding signaling an incoming notification. Peering over Yoon-Seo's shoulder, you eye as an app materializes on her home screen, one you don't recognize nor have you ever seen it in the default bundle all phones come with.

"Jung-Won, what's this? I said I don't need it."

"It's really not me. I haven't touched your phone at all."

Curious, you grab your own phone and glance down at it, the same little round-edged square making its appearance. "Yoon-Seo, I have it too. Neither of us downloaded it or scanned the QR code when we arrived."

[ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍ��. ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇɢɪɴ sʜᴏʀᴛʟʏ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀssɪɢɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ]

"Mafia game?" As you touch the screen, an envelope unfurls following animation. "Wasn't this what they were playing earlier on the bus?"

"Yeah..." Yoon-Seo confirms distractedly, verifying her own occupation. "I guess I'm a civilian, not that I expected to be anything else. How about you guys?"

"I'm also a civilian."

[ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ ɴɪᴍ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏʟᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ. ]

"Me too," you fib, hoping that it wouldn't be questioned. You weren't a very good liar to begin with and hoped this would pass. Maybe there would be a reward for winning the game, but either way, at least you knew your closest friends were on the same side as you.

Still, for some odd reason, it didn't seem fit for you to reveal your real character. Being a doctor seemed too important of a role to just go around telling everyone willy-nilly. The three of you rarely kept secrets from one another, and so you trusted that a white lie for the game this one time could be forgiven.

Before any of you can discuss the odd happenings of the unexpected game further, paragraphs pop up in successive order, outlining the standard rules:

𝟣) ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛʟʏ ᴀssɪɢɴᴇᴅ ᴀs ᴀ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴏғғɪᴄᴇʀ, ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴇᴇ ғɪᴛ, ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴғɪʀᴍ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ's ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ.

𝟤) ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴇs ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅɪsǫᴜᴀʟɪғʏ sᴜsᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ.

𝟥) ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋ sᴛʀɪᴋᴇs ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀɪᴛʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs.

𝟦) ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴇᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ sʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ.

𝟧) ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪs ɪɴ sʟᴜᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴡɴ.

𝟨) ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴs ᴏʀ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴏᴠᴇʀʀᴜɴs ��ʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ, ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ.

[ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀs ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴄᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs. ]

You're still trying to wrap your head around the summarized instructions, sensing that there was much more to the game than meets the eye. Why was there no outlining of the individual tasks required for those with specialized occupations? How many of you were assigned to each role? What happens after execution?

Jung-Won's voice interrupts your thoughts, the thread of worries pausing in its unending tangling inside your mind. "If you push a name, a vote gets cast apparently."

"You elected someone already...?" It was quite obvious how much Eun-Ha pushed for Yool determinedly in the group chat, and reluctantly, you and Yoon-Seo follow suit, knowing full-well Yool's obsession with the game and his caliber for winning streaks.

Pensively, you start scrolling through the partakers' list, seeing your classmates' yearbook photos, including your own. Being the overthinker that you are, your mind starts spinning with all of the possibilities on how this game could end, but you had no clue why it even began in the first place. The awareness of budding anxiousness courses through you as a slight breeze from the window sends goosebumps raising on your arms at the late revelation. "But guys...why does this app have our identifiers?"

Yoon-Seo turns to you, eyebrows knit together in agreement. "Right. We didn't even sign up earlier. Who granted them access to gather this protected information?"

Jung-Won bites at her nails, eyes shifting back and forth across her phone screen, the glare of its light reflecting off her glasses. "The internet isn't working either. How are we able to play the game anyway?"

Silence encases the vicinity around your trio, no one knowing what to say to the other, all questions remaining unvoiced and unanswered.

"Why don't we go back down to the lobby and see if there's anyone we can ask?" you propose, Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo readily assenting.

The reception desk as you head downstairs is as empty as it was the moment you came in, maybe even more so as reticence settles over the expansive building, the sky having gone ominously dark from a single look out the glass doors of the entrance.

"Our teacher hasn't come back yet? He left so long ago..." Yoon-Seo walks around the reception desk, circling for any clues. "Nothing could've happened, right?"

"What if he got into an accident?" Jung-Won states bluntly, drumming her fingers against the marble countertop.

"Yah, don't say it like that..." you warn. "Words can be dangerous. You don't know what it can subject someone to."

Before Jung-Won can list more outrageous possibilities, Jun-Hee sidles up on the opposite side of the counter where you're spinning back and forth in the chair slowly, lost in thought.

"Hey Jun-Hee, do you know when Seonsaengnim will be back?" Yoon-Seo directs at him while she flips through the binder of contacts placed beside you. "These numbers aren't what we need at all. They're just for the retreat center's use like maintenance and all that."

Jun-Hee shakes his head. "I can't reach him." He pulls out his phone, only to sigh and slip it back inside his pocket. "Are any of your guys' devices working?"

"We don't even have service." You look around once more, surveying areas within your eyesight in case any adults would spontaneously reappear. "Shouldn't there be at least one staff member or at the very least a security guard on patrol at night?"

"I guess they all went with our teacher." Jun-Hee walks up next to you and settles down on the counter to your left.

You raise an eyebrow. "Every single one of them? They didn't think to have anybody stay behind as a chaperone?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Jun-Hee begins. "It does seem a little unnecessary for all of them to up and leave."

"Then, what do we do now? How long do we wait?" Jung-Won stares at the clock ticking away. "It's barely nine o'clock. Surely, it wouldn't take him twice as long to pick up the others and return here, right?"

"There must be a phone in the staff lounge," Yoon-Seo stops her rummaging around under the desk long enough to say. "Jung-Won, let's go and search there."

"You're leaving me here alone?"

"Not alone," Yoon-Seo waggles her eyebrows so only you can see. "With Jun-Hee, of course."

Jung-Won conceals her smile behind her hand not so discreetly and begins to drag Yoon-Seo away. As they pass, Yoon-Seo pats Jun-Hee on the shoulder and cautions him. "If she gets lost, you'll be in big trouble."

He turns to her. "You've known me since we were babies, who do you take me for?"

Yoon-Seo merely ignores him and follows Jung-Won upstairs happily, an extra spring in her step, making it known how proud she was of herself. Rolling your eyes unnoticeably at their less than subtle tactics, you could only hope they were actually going to find a phone and not saying that purely for reasons of ulterior motives.

The hush after is stifling without the buffer of Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won. Jun-Hee is staring straight at you, hands bracing the counter on either side of him waiting for you to say something, but you're staring down at the floor, purposefully refusing to make eye contact.

"Are you mad at me?"

That was the last thing you expected him to say. "Of course not." You look up at him briefly, but what a mistake that was. With you lowered in the chair and him sitting up on the raised desk, your eyes meet his lips first and your mind automatically reels back to the kiss on the bus. Darting your eyes back to your lap immediately after draws out a weary sigh from Jun-Hee.

"Even now you can't look straight at me. At least tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it." When you're thinking of what to reply with, Jun-Hee grabs the chair's armrests by your sides and pulls you in closer, leaning his head down so that his form towers over yours. With nowhere else to look now, you're forced to gaze upward and the expression on his face has your stomach tightening in knots, guilty. "Now you're finally looking at me." A beat passes before Jun-Hee's eyes become downturn. "I'm sorry."

Your gaze softens as you glance into his dark brown eyes, seeing your own image in his irises. "I'm the one that should be sorry." You place your hands that were settled in your lap onto his forearms, and he instantly gazes down at the contact before looking back to you, his attention unwavering. "Don't ever apologize to me when you didn't do anything wrong, Jun-Hee."

His eyes dart back and forth between your own, questioning. "Then why have you been avoiding me? Did something happen while I was sleeping earlier on the bus? If there is or I made you uncomfortable in any way—"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," you're quick to salvage the situation and dismiss the notion entirely, even though he couldn't have been more spot on. He had always been an observant person. This you knew too well.

I didn't want you to find out my feelings for you and lose you as a friend all in one.

Instead of the full truth, you tell him only half of it. "I didn't want you to find out how tired I felt and have you worrying over me. I know you're the class president with greater, more important responsibilities, but I also know, above anyone else, that I can't burden you with my troubles just because I'm your friend."

"Seol-Hwa, even then, you could've told me." His hands move to rest on your shoulders. "You'll always be my top priority." In a much quieter voice he says, "And I'll always worry about you."

"Jun-Hee..."

He looks you dead in the eyes, expression open and filled with warmth. "I don't like when you're sad. You look the prettiest when you smile." You don't even get a chance to get a word in before Jun-Hee plows on, turning his head away slightly. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was abashed to be saying the things he did. "In the gymnasium earlier, you were laughing so carefree with Yoon-Seo. It's been a while since I've seen you like that with me. I can only be happy if you're happy..." He's almost sulking, his countenance like that of a kicked puppy.

You laugh genuinely, your head hitting the back of the chair. "Kim Jun-Hee, are you jealous of my friendship with Yoon-Seo right now?"

"I got you to smile this time!" He grins back brightly at you and the two of you sit there looking at one another, neither grin dropping. The soft exhalation of his laughter trickles into your ears once again, Jun-Hee being so content with having you in his presence, and you bask in how happy the sound makes you. Any previously existing tension disintegrates in an instant, and oddly enough, you feel closer to him than ever.

The moment gets cut short when a text from the app's group chat comes in, a start contrast to the discussion earlier, votes having already pooled in for Heo Yool.

[ 💬 sᴏ-ᴍɪ: ʟᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴏɴ-sᴇᴏ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɴᴇx. ɪᴛ's ᴜʀɢᴇɴᴛ. ]

The oddly specific and demanding tone of the message irked you to no end. "What is this about?" Never once have you seen So-Mi try to interact with your friend group voluntarily.

Jun-Hee waves his hand dismissively. "For the event tomorrow, we're interviewing everyone about the trip and the general experience."

"Even in this situation?" you ask incredulously.

Jun-Hee chuckles. "You know how So-Mi is." His eyebrows lift pointedly.

You pat his thigh accidentally, having missed his knee entirely and feel the muscles tense beneath your hand although he doesn't move away. "Don't you find it odd?"

Jun-Hee tilts his head, equal parts confused and curious. "About...?"

"Everything." You gesture around. "The lost signal, the disappearance of supposedly responsible adults, this automatically installed app that has our personal data, and the mafia game we're all in even though we didn't choose to play?"

Jun-Hee mulls it over for a second. "I honestly have no idea what's going on." He ruffles your head affectionately. "But don't worry so much. I'm certain once morning comes, everything will be alright."

"I sure hope so."

Your conversation quietens as heavy footsteps pad across the glossed floors and you squint to see the figure in the distance.

"Joo-Won?"

Jun-Hee turns around at your discovery and notices your classmate's bloody nose, a spark of recognition flashing across his eyes. "Where are you going?"

Joo-Won looks from Jun-Hee to you, and back again nervously, seemingly deciding whether he should say something or not. "W-Well, the guys wanted to see me for a second. So..." he stammers out.

You frown, knowing of the relentless bullying Kyung-Jun's group puts him and Da-Bum through.

"Wait there," Jun-Hee directs, hopping off the desk, and Ju-Won picks at his fingers, clearly on edge at the impending encounter.

"Be careful," you add in as an afterthought before he can leave.

"I will, now that I have you fretting over me." Jun-Hee smirks cheekily.

"I'm being serious, Jun-Hee." You fix him with a stern but caring gaze. "Try to be less confrontational. It won't be good for you or Ju-Won to get on Kyung-Jun's bad side."

He nods, understanding. "I'll try my best." Waving, he begins to lead Ju-Won away, the latter shuffling after with his head down pitifully. "I'll see you soon. Don't go anywhere where I can't reach you!" Your eyes trail after their distancing forms, agitatedly until you can no longer hear their footsteps echoing down the hall.

Not even a full minute has gone by before Yoon-Seo and Jong-Won show up again, trudging down the same stairs they climbed up less than an hour ago. Judging by their walk and the look on their faces, their search must've proved unsuccessful.

"Nothing came up?" You fall into place with the two as your all make way toward the pool.

"The phone lines..." Yoon-Seo begins, dishearteningly. "None of them worked. Every single ring had us fooled."

You stare at her in shock. "But—"

"We tried contacting 119 and even picking up incoming calls immediately, but no one answered." Jung-Won hangs her head despondently.

"This trip is starting to take a very wrong turn..." you hypothesize out loud. You don't even get to explain to Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won your reasoning before Na-Hee comes by, skipping over joyfully, oblivious on how to read the room.

"You all came." Na-Hee grabs your hand and Jung-Won's in each of her own, motioning with her head toward Yoon-Seo to enter. "Yoon-Seo, you should head inside." Without questioning it, Yoon-Seo does as she's told.

You slip your hand out of Na-Hee's nippily, and her smile wanes faintly, somewhat hurt. Hyun-Ho had confided in you that he liked her, but given what you knew about Na-Hee, you weren't fond of the idea. Not wanting to disappoint him, you don't say anything when he brings her up, but the things she has been a bystander for following in So-Mi's schemes never sat right with you. Silently, you hope that one day Na-Hee would come to her senses for Hyun-Ho's sake, but you've been proven wrong time and time again.

"Are these solo interviews or what?" you inquire curtly.

"They want to record Yoon-Seo first. You can come in a bit later."

"Can't be that special of footage." Jung-Won pulls you by the elbow, sidestepping Na-Hee and pushing the doors open of her own volition.

You're met with So-Mi, Ji-Soo, Yu-Jun, and Woo-Ram, all crowding around Yoon-Seo and singing her happy birthday with a makeshift cake comprised of stacked choco-pies.

So-Mi steps forward, offering Yoon-Seo the sweets and urging her to blow out a single measly candle that wasn't even lit beforehand.

"Since when have you done stuff like this? You barely give her the time of day." Jung-Won eyes So-Mi suspiciously, voicing your same exact thoughts.

Yoon-Seo is way too nice, proceeding to thank So-Mi. You, on the other hand, didn't buy into the latter's nice girl act whatsoever, and clearly, neither did Jung-Won.

So-Mi shoots Yoon-Seo a saccharine smile. "Don't mention it. We should celebrate since we're friends." The word doesn't roll off her tongue easily, openly not a genuine desire. "We brought a present too." You narrow your eyes at the group as they're trying to hide their shrewd smiles, albeit unsuccessfully. "Let's start with a birthday beating and plunge!"

Instantaneously, you try to drag Yu-Jun, leaving Jung-Won to fend off Woo-Ram, away from Yoon-Seo with no luck. More force would just topple all three of them straight into the water. You didn't particularly care if the boys fell to the very bottom depths of the pool, but Yoon-Seo shouldn't get soaked, no less on the night of her birthday. She didn't deserve this horrible of a treatment for simply being too trusting, genuinely wanting to see good in everyone with no ounce of judgment or malice.

So-Mi guffaws hysterically in the background, bent over clutching her stomach like the sight is the funniest thing she's ever witnessed. "Put her down," she orders in between giggles, wiping away a tear from her eye. "She's about to cry." Standing akimbo, she bites back her sneer, turning to the rest. "We went too far, didn't we?"

"You think?!" Jung-Won rounds on her, eyes blazing with anger.

You haul Yoon-Seo back up to her feet as the boys scatter, high-fiving. As she stands up again after you've barely let go of her hands, So-Mi swiftly shoves her over backwards, sending her diving into the water with a loud splash, droplets flying every which way.

"Are you crazy? How could you do that?!" Jung-Won kneels next to you by the edge of the pool, watching as Yoon-Seo resurfaces.

"You ok?" You reach out a hand to her, close enough that she can grip your fingertips.

"Yeah, I will be."

You breathe a sigh of reprieve, but it's rather short-lived when Yoon-Seo starts kicking madly underwater, her arms and legs flailing before she sinks beneath, no longer visible.

"Yoon-Seo!" you shout, but hear no response.

"What a funny 'prank' to you guys, huh?" Jung-Won yells crossly at So-Mi's group, everyone standing shell-shocked. How they have the conscience to even feel the tiniest bit of remorse is beyond your understanding.

The group tries to urge Woo-Ram to go in, but in hindsight, being on the receiving end of the prank didn't seem so appealing anymore.

Livid, you turn around to heave So-Mi backwards and she goes tumbling to the ground, the silver platter she was holding in one hand clattering and smashing cake crumbs all over her. For whatever reason, Ji-Soo is still recording, but you could care less about the captured situation. "Be glad it's not the pool I pushed you into." She's stunned enough that she can't find it in her to form words.

Na-Hee opens her mouth, outwardly wanting to apologize, but swallows the excuses when you glare at her in turn. "I was right about you all along. You'll never change."

You kick your shoes off and jump in after Yoon-Seo without hesitation, Jung-Won screaming for you in the background. Thankfully, Yoon-Seo is still conscious, but scarcely, and you manage to guide her toward the rungs of the poolside ladder. Jung-Won yanks Yoon-Seo up and over the edge, throwing a hand down to you.

"Yoon-Seo lost her shoes. I saw them earlier but couldn't reach them, so let me retrieve them too."

Jung-Won looks into the chasmic pool apprehensively, more concerned after what happened, but nods in acknowledgment, going back to propping Yoon-Seo up. "Come back quickly, Seol-Hwa."

Everyone is huddling around Yoon-Seo while you plunge back under, holding your breath comfortably as you grab her sneakers. Right as you're swimming on the path of return, something cold clamps onto your leg, refusing to let go. The vice-like grip tightens, pulling you downward to drown in darkness. No matter how hard you kick, you can't resurface due to the invisible power.

"Seol-Hwa!" Jung-Won calls out to you, frightened. "I'm going to get help, hang on!"

The last thing you see are spindly, mottled, black fingers, color washed out grey in the lighting; something sinister and otherworldly. As it curls tighter around your ankle, so too does your chest constrict, the coldness of the touch seeping into your bones and you find the sense of prior trepidation returning in full force before everything sinks into oblivion.

Lungs burning and head throbbing, you open your eyes groggily, the pristine white walls of the infirmary slowly coming into focus. In the bed next to yours, Yoon-Seo is still asleep.

The digits on your left hand are numb, and you look over to see Jun-Hee gripping it like a lifeline, head resting atop his arm by your knees. Your body protests as you turn on your side, muscles stiff, trying to draw your hand free. Reaching out, you card your fingers tenderly through his hair, the ends still yet to dry. Did he jump in?

After a while, he wakes up with a start, eyes flickering to your face. A shaky sigh of relief escapes him seeing the tiniest of smiles from you, any prior sense of unrest vanishing.

"Are you in pain at all?" He cradles the back of your head, helping you sit up as you dangle your legs over the bed's edge, seated knee to knee with him.

"How long have you been here with me?" You sweep the fallen fringe away to the outlines of his face, fingers lingering against his forehead. "You should've gotten changed at least." Your hand falls back to your lap when you can see his eyes better, unshielded. "You'll grow sick at this rate, Jun-Hee."

"Says the one I'm stressing over."

"I'm fine now," you assure.

"Why didn't you wake me up as soon as you came to? Do you know how terrified I was?" His brows are furrowed in concern still, and you lift your hand again to smooth the crease lines away.

"But you rescued me," you speak quietly.

"I thought you were dying in front of me and that I wouldn't be able to save you in time. I can't lose you; do you know that?" His hand comes up to cup your face delicately, barely daring to touch it wholly, almost afraid you would disappear if he did. "You're someone I can absolutely cannot let go of." You don't realize you're crying until Jun-Hee runs his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the twin trails of tears. You're not usually one to cry, but in this moment, you were overcome with emotions. "Why are you crying?"

"I was worried. Not for me, but for you." His hands are shaking where they're pressed against your face. You put your hand over his, expecting him to pull away at your next words. "I know you like to avoid the water as much as you can after..." you trail off, teardrops still falling. "You willingly jumped in to save me when I know how deep-seated your fear runs."

He smiles sadly at you. "I found out that the care I have for you outweighs any of my existing fears." His hands have stopped shaking and you drag them down, yours coming along with it to hold them together. "I told you earlier to not go someplace where I can't reach you but after this, I'm willing to follow you to the ends of the earth. Even in death, as long as it's with you, I wouldn't mind the thought."

Your heart stutters in your chest at the sincerity of his words, and you know that your feelings for him would never fade. Not in this lifetime. "Jun-Hee..."

"Seol-Hwa? Jun-Hee?" Yoon-Seo's trembling voice has the both of you looking in her direction, but Jun-Hee is yet to release your hand.

"Yoon-Seo..." you reply, eased now that she's awoken. "How are you feeling?"

"I can't recall what happened at all." She holds her head, staring blankly ahead. "But somehow, I find I'd rather not remember." Yoon-Seo moves over to sit on your cot, back-to-back with you. The warmth radiating from her is welcoming. "Seol-Hwa, thanks for always being there. You're a good person through and through."

"Tell that to yourself." You smile and lean your head back against hers. "What are friends for?"

"Saving one another's lives now apparently," Jun-Hee jokes, lightening the atmosphere.

"Then I owe you one," Yoon-Seo continues. "I'll be your Superwoman next time."

"You and Jun-Hee really are like one another. What did you both do together when you were babies to make you fearless like this?" you question, exasperatedly fond. "Readily giving up your life for another person?"

"Only because we know you'd do the same. That kind of sincerity comes once in a lifetime."

The door creaks open just as Yoon-Seo ends her sentence, So-Mi's group filing in self-consciously, Jung-Won leading them in with her arms crossed.

"Apologize," Jun-Hee states emotionlessly. "Right now," he emphasizes, leaving no room for argument. "Pranks are supposed to be harmless, not harmful."

So-Mi grimaces at his harsh tone. "I'm sorry," she's quick to apologize. "Seol-Hwa."

She's not looking directly at you but past to the side of you, gaze straying to your hand in Jun-Hee's where he's absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb into your palm, not aware of his own actions. One corner of So-Mi's lip twitches, but aside from that, she doesn't comment on it. If the others have noticed, they don't say anything either.

"I'm not the one this should be reserved for."

You see her bite her tongue, annoyed at having to repeat herself once again, but not yet dropping her fake performance. Plastering on the most pitiful puppy eyes she can conjure up, she shifts her attention to Yoon-Seo, still pale. "I do feel guilty. We truly just wanted to wish you a happy birthday." So-Mi forces the waterworks on, squeezing one teardrop out at a time.

"I don't think I've ever been pushed into a pool as a birthday present before," Jung-Won mutters not so quietly under her breath.

Yoon-Seo elbows her subtly. "It's okay. Don't cry, So-Mi."

You and Jung-Won both whip your heads toward Yoon-Seo, in pure disbelief. Neither of you would've accepted that half-baked, insincere apology.

"Really?" So-Mi's eyes widen on cue, as if she didn't expect Yoon-Seo to be so pardoning. "Will you forgive us?"

"Of course, I accept. I'm alright now, so let's just put it in the past."

Jung-Won doesn't attempt to hide her distaste as she groans aloud. "Yep, totally fine. You just almost went and saw King Sejong is all."

"That's enough," Yoon-Seo whisper-yells.

"Alright, everyone out," Joon-Hee cuts in, feeling the tension in the room. "We'll all talk later."

So-Mi is the first to leave, unmistakably irritated and shamed at the same time. No matter how hard she tries to mask it, you see right through her well-crafted persona. Na-Hee lingers, the last one to exit. Before the door slams shut, she catches your eye, but in finding a look of indifference staring back at her, she turns away without saying a word, the light from the hallway dimming once more.

"That wench spilled crocodile tears."

"Jung-Won ah," Yoon-Seo expresses tiredly. "She said she was sorry."

"I don't care. It wasn't genuine. She acts up because you're the only one that gives way to her."

Yoon-Seo gets up to drag Jung-Won away and out into the hall as the latter begins to raise her voice. Their conversation lowers, but you can hear the last bit of it as they step outside.

"What would you like me to do then?"

"You don't have to do anything," Jung-Won reasons. "I'm only saying I don't tolerate her or her victim mentality, and neither should you."

"Shouldn't we head out too?" You turn to Jun-Hee.

He shakes his head lightly. "Stay and rest a bit more."

"I really am fine." You give his hand a squeeze in affirmation. Despite saying so, you continue to shiver in only your thin white button-up still damp in random patches from being submerged earlier.

Jun-Hee opens the backpack by his feet and tugs out his uniform cardigan, wrapping it around your shoulders. "Here, put this on. You're still cold to the touch."

"Then what about you? Sitting in wet clothes isn't comfortable."

"I have extras I brought with me." Jun-Hee's name tag still pinned to the sweater falls into his line of vision and he can't help smiling to himself that you haven't noticed it's positioned right over your heart. "Plus, it looks better on you anyway."

"It what?" You lean forward, tilting your ear in his direction, not sure if you heard correctly or if they were still water-logged.

"Nothing," Jun-Hee evades, suppressing his smile. It seemed too far-fetched a thing for him to say in either circumstance, so you leave it be, not wanting to wander down the winding paths of your own thoughts. He crouches down and draws the heel of your socked foot to rest on his knee, his free hand untying the laces of your shoes placed to the side.

"I can do it myself," you tell him, flustered from all the attention you were receiving.

Without looking up, Jun-Hee proceeds to put your sneakers on your feet. "I know you can." He goes so far as to knot them tight, tying bows on both sides. "But I want to do it for you." His fingers reach out to trace the shoelaces all the way to the ends of the aglets, remembrance in his eyes.

Embarrassed, you put your feet back on the ground but he looks up at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. "You kept them."

"Of course, I did." You gaze down at your shoes. "You gave them to me."

His own white sneakers come into view, and you wonder why you never noticed his laces, dyed in your favorite color, and yours in his own. "So did I. I didn't think you would."

"Why not?" You toe his shoes with yours. "Just because we made them during summer camp a few years back? A gift is a gift," you reply, nearly pouting.

He laughs at the faux cross tone of your voice, but as his eyes trail upward, the sound chokes and dies off at the end. "Uh...your shirt's now see-through..." He coughs awkwardly and stands up, looking away, a slight tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. "I'll see you out there." Jun-Hee picks up his backpack, hurriedly slinging it over one shoulder before turning to look back at you once more before leaving.

Only a short bit of time has passed, but the moment you step back out with Jun-Hee's cardigan on, you slam straight into Hyun-Ho. He steadies you by the upper arms, eyes widening upon seeing you. "Seol-Hwa!" Before you can react, he throws his arms around you and gives you the most suffocating of hugs, larger form squeezing you tight as his arms encase you, rocking back and forth.

"Hyun-Ho. Can't. Breathe." Your voice comes out punctuated, every pause a ragged intake of air.

He lets go soon after, yanking your head every which way to assess for any injuries.

"Ouch!" you exclaim. Hyun-Ho doesn't know how to control his strength so every pat comes out more like slaps. "Alright!" You try to push his hands away but they're hell bent on checking your well-being. "Ok! That's enough!" You say with finality, laughter bubbling up as your cousin continues to shake you around like a rag-doll. "Yah! If I didn't have any bruises, I sure do now!"

Hyun-Ho steps back, chiding. "Where's the thank you, huh?"

"For giving me new injuries?"

"Is that how you repay me?" Hyun-Ho scoffs. "I was the one who found you in the pool first."

"Y-You were?!" You splutter. "How come no one told me?"

"I said I found you. I wasn't the one who saved you." He shrugs like it was common knowledge.

"Aish." You shove his shoulder but he stands his ground, not budging an inch. "And you're thick-skinned enough to request a word of thanks?"

"Obviously." He flicks you on the forehead, drawing a scowl from you. "I went and got Jun-Hee for you."

"Ok, and...?" You're more baffled than ever.

"Geez, this ungrateful brat." Hyun-Ho tries but fails to hide his smirk. "Who do you think handed you over so you could be carried by Jun-Hee all the way to the infirmary?"

"What?!"

"You looked more comfortable in his arms than on my back, but really, it was no big deal." He shrugs. "All in a day's work for me."

"You—" you point a finger at him, gawking and at a loss for words.

"Also, nice change of outfit by the way." He raps his forefinger on Jun-Hee's nameplate, nails clacking on the piece of plastic. "I know it's your favorite brand."

You gasp as you finally notice, immediately unpinning the white rectangle and slipping it in your skirt pocket. "I'm going to kill him," you mutter under your breath.

"Why not kiss him instead?" Hyun-Ho jests, knowing well enough by now to evade your incessant slaps to his back, running down the hallway as you give chase after.

The two of you come to a stop when the rest of your classmates congregate from the other end of the hallway where Jun-Hee and So-Mi were making an announcement about retiring for the night and trying to contact the teacher again tomorrow morning.

Yoon-Seo taps your shoulder from behind and tilts her phone screen toward you where a timer has popped up.

Before anyone can so much as take a step toward their rooms, the intercom comes to life.

[ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ᴇɴᴅs ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ. ]

With everything that has happened since you got here, the mafia game had slipped from your mind.

Suddenly, Yoon-Seo's meter starts counting down from 59 seconds, and with the ding comes a renewed sense of excitement from everyone around you, sleep long forgotten.

While Yool and his friends incessantly chatter away, trying to place blame on one another in good fun, you're the exception. Questioning the origins of the game, you feel a sense of foreboding, an ill-omened current in the air. You were known among your friends to have good instincts, but you hope against all hope that this time, your intuition wouldn't be true.

Jun-Hee walks over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder that makes you jump out of your skin. "Seol-Hwa...? Did you hear anything I said?"

Hands trembling, you grip onto the rolled-up sleeve cuff of his shirt. "I...don't think we should've voted."

You eye the shaking numbers on Jun-Hee's phone screen, growing shades redder by the minute as it nears zero. He doesn't get a chance to reply as successive announcements come in.

[ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴀs ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇᴅ. ʜᴇᴏ ʏᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ]

Seconds later, Yool lets out a guttural scream of agony, clutching the side of his head.

"Oi, look at this kid. Gosh, he's just begging for attention again," Eun-Ha utters with clarity, unfazed by Yool's prankster tendencies. While everyone laughs at her statement and his actions, you study his face contorted in pain, veins popping up in his neck.

That kind of intensity isn't for show.

"Jun-Hee...Something's not right," you undertone tremulously, fingers slackening from the grip you had on him. The moment those words leave your lips, Yool falls to the ground, slumped over.

As his friends crowd around, Jun-Hee is rooted to the spot, intertwining your hand with his, holding on tight. You can tell he wants to go help as well, but he keeps throwing glances down at you and ultimately decides against it.

A sickening cracking sound has you sliding your eyes slowly over to see Yool's neck snapping rearward, the rest of his body contorting into a standing position in descending parts. Like a puppet controlled on a string, his limbs bend in odd angles, much more grotesque and inhumane compared to his earlier stint in the gymnasium. As his head straightens again, screams ring out down the length of the hallway.

You press yourself against the wall, finding it hard to breathe as you look directly into Yool's rolled eyes, now completely white, no irises in sight.

The White Butterfly's Murder.

You knew. You knew that butterflies were often seen in the spring as a divination of death, a harbinger of impending demise if it were to encircle someone while in flight. But to have it be white, the color of innocence yet also the color of surrender, you can't help but to wonder if these were all signs you should've heeded. Would we still have ended up here?

Eyes are windows to the soul, they say. Here, you realize, now stands a soulless individual.

Eun-Chan and Yeon-Woo have both fallen to the floor in a heap, staring up at their now unrecognizable friend with nothing but absolute fear in their expressions.

A mindless Yool throws himself side to side, intentionally crashing his head against pictures framed on the wall, glass shattering into a million pieces and raining the floor with shards akin to glitter.

But not all that glitters is gold.

You can't tell if it's the glass reflecting light, or if your tears are distorting your vision, but the scene hazes and blurs, turning into the illusion of a haunted nightmare you so desperately want to wake up from.

The horrific effect doesn't end there as Yool proceeds to crouch down and thump his head repeatedly against the floor, prostrating himself as if he's paying for sins he doesn't even remember; sins he can't even begin to atone for.

Blood is pouring in rivulets down his face, pooling around him like the expanding rings of a target, leaving only the center for his body to stay dead centered.

A broken sound escapes from your lips and Jun-Hee pulls you into his arms, shielding you against him, screening your eyes from having to look any further. Where your ear is pressed against his chest, you can hear the pounding of his heart, but even that sound alone is not enough to drown out that of Yool's head bashing against linoleum.

You squeeze your eyes tight, hard enough until you see spots, but these faint flickers of light are not lucky stars you can wish upon tonight.

If you could, you'd wish to be able to wake up. To start again from the beginning.

But you can't.

Rather, frozen in this cruel reality, you can only escape once you cease to wake up again.

And Yool does just that.

A thousand footsteps running toward a bitter end.

A crash as hope falls apart.

A thud to cease the beating of a heart.

And then...complete silence.

Before you lose consciousness, you feel that same vice-like grip from the pool return in full force, unbreakable chains around your heart.

This time, you're not sure anyone will come to your rescue.

This time, you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 | 𝟬𝟯 : 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

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audentiaspacesworld · 2 months ago

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Smart & Functional Kids Study Table Design for a Productive Space

A well-designed kids study table design creates a perfect learning environment for children. It should be ergonomic, clutter-free, and have enough storage to keep books and stationery organized. A good study table enhances focus and comfort, making study time more enjoyable. From compact wall-mounted tables to spacious desks with shelves, there are various designs to suit every need. Choose a study table that blends style with functionality to boost your child’s productivity and creativity.

#study table design #study table with bookshelf #modern study table designs #study table designs for students #study table with bookshelf design #kids study table design #study table design for bedroom #bunk bed with study table #modern study table design for small room #study table ideas #corner study table design

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bullet-prooflove · 8 months ago

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Sending hugs always!

There's a war up against my heart and head

For Mitch Ripley please and thank you!

Tagging: @kmc1989 @spaghettificationandpretzels @mini-bee-bee @mandy426 @jareaulamontagnes

Seperation!Series:

Marley 2.0 - Mitch doesn't realise your hiding a secret from him.

Not Your Problem - Mitch feels you pulling away from him.

Pill Popping - Mitch confronts LJ about what happened in St Clair.

Not Enough - Mitch realises he won't ever be enough for you after you reveal what happened in St Clair.

Therapy Sessions - Mitch talks through his issues with his counsellor.

Hollow - Mitch returns home to an empty house.

Swings - You and Mitch discuss what your mother told him.

You shouldn’t be in Mitch’s bed, you shouldn’t be straddling his hips, you shouldn’t be fucking him but you are because right now you need to feel anything but this crippling numbness that’s eating you up inside. His hands grip your hips because he’s there on the cusp, his eyes locked on yours, his jaw clenched.

Your hand comes to rest on his throat, squeezing hard and he thrusts up into you unwillingly.

“Don’t.” You say, your voice stern. “Don’t hold back from me.”

And Mitch can’t help himself, his release overcomes him, crashing through his body like a freight train and he’s coming in long, hard spurts inside of you, your name tearing from his throat. The feel of his release filling you, tips you over the edge and you climax around his over sensitive cock, gripping him so tightly it steals away his breath because it’s such a beautiful mix of agony and ecstasy.

You slip out of the sheets when he falls asleep, dressing in the light from the dawn as it breaks outside before you walk down the stairs of the home you built together and leave out the front door, locking it securely behind you.

You don’t go back to your parent’s house instead you head to the fire station. It’s quiet tonight, the folks on the shift before yours are all tucked up asleep in the bunk room. There’s just you stalking the corridors like a ghost. You shower the essence of your estranged husband from your skin, redressing in your paramedics uniform, ready for your shift in a couple of hours

“Marley.” Cruz calls out when he sees you coming out of the locker room. You’d forgotten he was covering for McCleary tonight on Squad, that’s the Lieutenant in charge. “You’re here pretty early, is everything ok?”

No, you think. Nothing’s ever going to be ok again.

“Yea.” You say with a smile that doesn’t feel like your own. “I just wanted to get a jump on things before the audit next shift.”

“Marley.” He says gently, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders as he studies you because the expression on your face. It’s one he’s never seen before, not in all the years he’s known you. “You know you can come to me if there’s anything…”

“I fucked Mitch tonight, right after I found out I couldn’t have kids.” You find yourself saying and Joe doesn’t quite know what to respond to that.

“Are the two of you…” He trails off because they all know you’re separated and they all know it’s not that simple.

“I don’t know.” You tell him despondently, tucking your hands into your pockets as you tilt your head away from him. “I don’t know anything anymore Joe.”

“Ok.” Cruz says, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he guides you towards the Squad table, pulling out Severide’s plush leather chair for you to sit in. “Let’s get you settled and you tell me all about it.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#mitch ripley #mitch ripley x reader #mitchell ripley #mitchell ripley x reader #chicago med

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wishforhome · 2 months ago

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wip wednesday - just boat things

i'm really struggling with the pacing of the fic I've been working on for the last month. i have all these parts that I love but I'm still not managing to fit them together in a way that I like.

That said, Viago and Vero spent three days stuck together on a boat. There is only one bed. Enjoy some trope-fuelled snuggles. (Viago insists any physical affection present in this scene is purely practical and professional.)

1110 words | wip excerpt | rated T | viago/rook

Vero is not fond of ships. They are, in fact, not fond of water generally. This explains their discomfort, the low thrum of anxiety they feel as they board the merchant vessel from the docks at Salle. It is only this, and nothing more. In any case, if Viago notices, he does not say anything.

One of the sailors shows them to their berth, set at the end of a narrow hall beneath the captain’s own quarters. It is a small room, only slightly larger than the closet in Vero’s quarters back at the estate. There is a narrow bed built into the far wall, and a small table that folds down next to the door. Vero sets their scant luggage beneath the bed, and Viago stands near the entryway. With both of them in the space, there is little room for either of them to move.

Viago eyes the small room with obvious displeasure, his posture rigid. But there had been no second cabin available, and besides which they have shared quarters this small before. (Although that had been different – it had been before, and on that voyage the cabin had had bunks, and so they had slept separately.)

It will be three days to Dairsmuid if the weather holds.

“This is satisfactory,” Viago tells the sailor at last, who nods and leaves them to settle in.

Three days on the water. This is the only reason Vero is nervous. It is not Viago’s proximity, the promise of three nights spent in a too-narrow bed next to him, or the assignment that waits for them in Rivain.

(It is a strange thing, this contract Viago has given them. Social manipulation – seduction – is not their forte. Infiltration, combat, poisons – these are their strengths.

Still, it is not too complicated a contact, requiring only a distraction. On paper, it seems easy enough, and if Viago thinks they are capable, then – then they must be. He has never asked them to do anything they were not capable of doing.)

The first day passes quietly enough. Viago spends it on deck, while Vero stays below. It is easier to ignore the pitch and roll of the ship if they do not have to look at the expanse of water that surrounds them. They avoid the window, preferring not to watch the too-distant coastline. They spend the time reviewing the dossier Viago had prepared for them, studying the floor plans of the estate and trying to imagine contingencies.

Viago comes back down at dinner, and they eat a quiet meal of bread, cheese and salted pork.

Afterwards, they dress for bed in silence, not looking at each other. There is a tension between them, which Vero chooses not to examine too closely. Instead, they are quiet as they settle onto the thin mattress, tucking themself along the wall. Viago follows them, lying with his back to them. They can feel the warmth of him, and they focus on that, trying to ignore the way the ship lurches, the sound of water against the hull.

Minutes pass, Vero pressing themself as close as they can against the wall, while Viago lies stiffly on his side behind them. The ship rocks in a steady motion, and Vero presses their nails into their palms, as though they can create stillness through sheer force of will. Vero is not sure how long they lie like that, both of them silent in the narrow bed.

Eventually, Viago huffs a sigh. He turns then, shifting on the thin mattress until he is facing them. He slides an arm around their waist, pulling them against his body until their back is pressed snuggly against his chest. Vero goes rigid at the initial touch, but then Viago tucks his head in against their shoulder and notches his knee between their legs, and slowly, they relax.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yes,” Vero admits.

They still feel their body tense each time the ship rocks against a particularly strong wave, but Viago’s grip on their waist tightens, and that helps.

“You still hate water,” Viago says, his breath warm on their neck. “I’ve never asked why.”

It is still not a question, but it is close enough.

“When we learned to swim,” Vero says. They look at the wall in front of them as they speak. “They would force us under. Something about teaching us not to fear death.” They still do not speak often of their old House; there is little need to now, in any case, because House Calveri is dead. They had been dismantled one contract at a time, mostly by Vero’s own hand. They had blocked Viago’s ascension to Fifth Talon, and so he had removed them from the board.

Viago makes a thoughtful sound. “Wasteful,” he says, “and shortsighted.”

They have come to see his cold pragmatism as comforting. Viago is not sentimental, and these are the only comforts he offers: the promise that he would not be so cruel, not because he is incapable of cruelty, but because such things do not serve him. They trust this assurance more than they would ever trust a kinder promise, one made on the grounds of morality or care. In Vero’s experience, people cannot be trusted to do the right thing, but Viago can be trusted to do the smart one.

“I’m yours now,” Vero says. This thought, too, is comforting, because Viago protects what is his. He protects them now, using the the warmth of his body entangled with theirs on the thin mattress to steady them against the constant motion of the ship. It feels strange, being held this way. It is not uncommon now, for them to sleep in his bed, to drift off in his arms, but it is always after other, more base kind of intimacies. This more simple kind of closeness, born from a mix of practicality and care, is unfamiliar.

He makes sound of agreement, and his hand moves under the hem of their shirt to find bare skin. He is not wearing his gloves, and his palm is warm against their stomach. His thumb strokes absently at their skin, finding the line of an old scar and tracing its length. There is no intent behind the touch, and his breath is steady and even against the back of their neck.

“Go to sleep,” he says, as though simply ordering them to do so will make such a thing possible.

Still, Vero closes their eyes. They are not sure if the movement of the ocean has slowed, or if it is just that Viago’s embrace has made them feel more secure. They are tired, suddenly.

#viago de riva #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age fanfic #oc: vero de riva #antivan crows #rook de riva #da 4 #wip #wip wednesday

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18catsreading · 1 year ago

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Adaine: you can just move back in, if you want

Brennan: you see that Sandra Lynn looks at her at this kitchen table and is like [as Sandra Lynn]: we'd love to have you, Aelwyn.

Adaine: she'd love to have you Aelwyn.

Aelwyn: does this invitation extend solely to me, or to my 15 cats?

Emily/Fig: I can make room for them

(Brennan breaks and laughs here)

Ally/Kristen: i start setting up a chicken hutch for them

Siobhan/Adaine: yea we have a catio into the graveyard

Ally/Kristen: we have a catio!

Zac: (aside to Brennan) what happened to you?

Siobhan/Adaine: we turned the graveyard into a catio.

Brennan: (returns from behind the DM screen) i just don't know what Emily meant by make room! "We can make room"?

Ally/Kirsten: you guys kick Kristen out

Brennan: it sounded so sinister. It sounded like there were 15 worse animals that you were going to get rid of.

Ally/Kristen: I have can trim the fat around here

Brennan: we can trim the fat. I think i know exactly who can

Siobhan/Adaine: kristen you're out. The cats: in.

Ally/Kristen: all right. They live in my, like, cathedral room

Zac/Gorgug: they can move in with Fabian

Lou/Fabian: what the hell are you doing here?

Ally/Kristen: I'm bringing the cats

Brennan: Aelwyn does actually move back in

Siobhan/Adaine: hell yes

Brennan: she moves back into the bunk bed

Ally/Kristen: i make a point of being kind of rude to her, but in the way that she likes, so its not all super sweet.

Brennan: yeah

Ally/Kristen: I'm like, nice outfit. Clown! And i keep walking to breakfast. I look back, is she smiling?

Brennan: i think there's a couple --

Adaine: don't talk to her like that *winks exaggeratedly*

Brennan: the first time she does that, let me see how she does measuring how hard to come back. That's a 5

Aelwyn: oh, you don't like this?

Kristen: oh, uh, its, uh. Looks like shit.

Aelwyn: ah, i understand. Well, i'm trying to dress for the job i have which is librarian. But dressing like someone who wants the whole world to know that they're desperately alone is another option.

Ally/Kristen: Kristen hugs her staff

Adaine: okay, actually, don't talk to her like that

Aelwyn: no, we're playing! You wear the same tracksuit every day. You know that's not right.

Kristen: yeah. Yeah! I forgot something in my room!

Adaine: sometimes she dresses as a cowboy

Emily/Fig: i get behind Aelwyn for a tabletop

Ally/Kristen: what are you doing?!

Brennan: you get behind Aelwyn for a tabletop?

Emily/Fig: Kristen, if you don't get this I --

Ally/Kristen: i'm running, i'm running. No I just forgot something!

Brennan: Aelwyn turns down to look at you and says [as Aelwyn]: drop something?

Ally/Kristen: i forgot something!

Emily/Fig: i was acting like a fucking cat, cuz you love em so much! And I give her a wet willy and run.

Brennan: the wet willy gets her way more. [As Aeleyn]: uuugh! Noo! The house -- Mordred is lively. There's very fun study sessions.

#brennan lee mulligan #dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high junior year spoilers #ep 16 untapped rage #siobhan thompson #lou wilson #ally beardsley #zac oyama #brian murphy #emily axford

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ksiondzkanexkiii · 11 months ago

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MAYBE YOU'RE NOT A BAD PERSON | John Price

Next chapter (2)

The story is also on wattpad, Nebook, Tumblr Enjoy

Chapter One

Jinx. A teenager they approved of as a lost cause incapable of fixing a teenager who is and will forever be rebellious and unfit for society. She herself has earned this designation

A lost cause

Did it bother her? As long as she was at peace then no. But life on the street could never be peaceful, she had never learned that in all her sixteen years of life. Life is never peaceful and everyone lies, ever since she could remember she had been alone, but did that bother her? No. Yes.

She felt lonely, of course, but she also felt that she could make it on her own. A bit of narcissistic thinking, but that's how she thought she would survive, and apparently she succeeded, because she is still alive today.

Miracle.

Lying on the uncomfortable bed of the reformatory she looked up at the ceiling, the teddy bear who accompanied her like a faithful friend lay on her chest exceptionally she would pull him out to hug him she always did when she doubted. It gave her peace of mind as if the teddy bear was the only person dead because he was an object, but she had the feeling that he understood her. As the only

The day was to begin as always wake up after Friday morning toilet breakfast at six o'clock school activities from eight to fifteen free time until seventeen afternoon study time until nineteen showers and sleep. The constant routine that blended into her veins was tedious, of course she tried to find entertainment wherever she fell, but it wasn't enough.

The boredom that entered her nostrils like oxygen that sucks in caused her to be bored. Who would have expected that? She didn't know what to do. She knew to strive for routine, she had already learned many times that it was better not to piss off the guards, it always ends uninterestingly from an intense beating with a baton to leaving her for days in solitary confinement with poor food and drink such that she would not die of thirst.

She longed for freedom, every day she would have prayed to escape this hell, which was called a juvenile correctional facility, but a new name had formed in her mind. Cops' mental institution.

How much she would give to be able to run free again, to feel the same adrenaline rush when she stole something to be able to run away from a familiar shopkeeper again. She longed for that come what may, those were her darkest times, every day she wondered if she would survive.

Would god be so merciful as to give her extra moments of life, before placing new stumbling blocks at her feet, she would give her whole body along with her soul for... for a good home

Every day described was routine, but today... today was something different, she woke up later than usual as if the guards had skipped her. As if they wanted to starve her to death, when she jumped off the top of the bunk bed she noticed Isolde her cellmate. She disappeared not there.

Didn't she wake me up?

Jinx thought, more and more questions were being asked in her head, but there were no answers. The cell was closed, the small wooden table was further against the wall and continued as small, but also large, because two people could write in notebooks on it, the small lamp continued to stand on the desk, the lower part of Isolde's bed was bedded. As they always do when they get up, so they did not forcibly lead her out by herself she left

Why am I alone? As she approached the cold bars of the cell she leaned her hands against them trying to look out through the closed bars she saw nothing. It was dark in the corridor

Is it still night? Am I asleep?

No answers to these questions

Isolde was not there. She was alone, confused unusually. She wouldn't remember Izo was supposed to go to solitary confinement for misbehavior, Izo was more of the docile inmates. Jinx wondered how she ended up here, but the younger girl always brushed off the question by saying she didn't want to talk about it. Jinx did not press

She thought she shouldn't

Isolde didn't press Jinx to talk about her life either, Jinx thought her life was twisted like... How? Well, that's how she always came up with all sorts of twisted things, but now nothing was popping into her head. She let out a shuddering breath and goosebumps appeared on her skin, it was cold in the cells as if she was in a cooler, but the heat to the icy room was gently getting in. And she had nothing to warm herself with anyway, her navy blue prison uniform hung loosely on her body and a white undershirt hugged her chest. Jinx wasn't a fan of buttoning up her uniform shirt, so she walked around with the undershirt on and the navy blue uniform shirt served as outerwear.

The navy blue pants hung on her like a sack of potatoes were certainly too big, but they were fine at the waist, only every now and then she had to pull them up to keep them from falling off her waist and showing the underwear underneath. The washed and slowly deteriorating sneakers that were the only ones that came with her to the prison and had not been taken away were already slightly chafing the teenager's skin, she was definitely slowly growing out of them, but there was no point in asking for new ones yet.

Besides, she loved the shoes too much to leave them behind, they had gone through so much time with her that she didn't want to leave them behind even if it was to end up with bruised feet.

Her legs carried her to the wall, where she impetuously hit the cold brick wall to slowly slide towards the ground to sit on it. As cold as the wall was the cells were never heated only for the winter the guards gave them thicker quilts that was it, if they froze to death the guards did not grieve. To them it was normal, as if every kid in this reformatory was a lost cause as if there was no saving them.

Jinx thought otherwise

Of course that those kids were doing wrong she also committed crimes, but behind every bad act there was a reason. There could have been a myriad of reasons, but the criminals, at least the juvenile ones, were never listened to why they did it, they just had these two phrases written into their files, which hurt everyone.

A lost cause

They could have helped give them another chance. To listen to them. But no.

The authorities thought they knew better what was worth saving and what was written off, everything according to them was listed as unsalvageable, unchangeable. But every kid who came here was panicked. They were afraid. She was also afraid when she came here could she blame the kids there for being afraid? No, but the guards were of a different opinion every day new juvenile prisoners who were not understood and were sent here to change to serve time for their actions were doomed to eternal derision and insults from the prison guards.

Was there anything they could do? No. They couldn't even stand up to them, say enough, that they should stop. There was nothing they could do, they were doomed to it. The reformatory was supposed to teach humility and calmness listening to orders and learning to enter society, but the reformatory only taught how people in authority control us as they lie to us right to our faces mocking us behind closed doors.

Jinx was no longer the youngest, but she was still not an adult, she was a teenager who lived on the streets because that was the way life had chosen her. As if a god had said it was her destiny to suffer forever, but feeling pain, she believed she shouldn't exist after all, she was the one who escaped from her parents' basement to try to survive on her own. At the age of ten she learned quick turns in sprinting, as well as refining her sprinting and mind, when she was eleven she learned to do parkour well jumping from one fire cage to another or jumping over a fence didn't always end nicely at least at first. When she was learning skinned knees and elbows and hands were the norm, but eventually she learned, she also perfected the art of stealing to somehow survive.

The hardest time was in winter, thick clothes blocked some of her movements as well as slowed her sprinting, she couldn't wear anything lighter because she would freeze. Winter was always the hardest like the period when people wish each other happy holidays and the new year she was undergoing the most important test then. Whether it was all she learned on the street or learned from it, she survived winters with difficulty, but then it was a signature that she learned to live in winter. She didn't care about dirt she was constantly dirty, being homeless involved

With constant struggle

With constant filth

And that rats are your friends, unless they have rabies, then not.

And that everyone lies and there is no help on the streets, no friends of the homeless. The rivalry among the homeless was of two camps, either you are their family not even biological family, but family or you are their enemy for life, Jinx chose the term enemy of all. She didn't trust them, she preferred to gather supplies herself and live alone rather than give away what she managed to gather and give to others as generosity, she was the one who gathered it all then why should she give it away claiming that these elderly homeless people need it? They're going to die sooner or later anyway, they're going to die faster than her so why waste food on them?

- Stop feeling sorry for yourself. - the British voice of a familiar guard spoke up. Sullyvan. This nasty guard stole her affection, she liked him. In a friendly form of meaning of course, she loved to tease him and he loved to remind her how much she had fucked up in her life - after you grieve elsewhere," sighed Sullyvan pulling out his keys with a clank.

Raising an eyebrow Jinx watched his movements as he opened the cells, the key went into the lock and was turned the clank of metal against metal echoed through the empty cells and the prison hall. The teenager didn't know what he was talking about. As if a familiar guard caught her unspoken question he smiled - You're out. That's what you do. - He confessed to her, the teenager's lips parted

Going out? To freedom?

She won't have to look at those nasty gray shades of the walls in the cell as well as the walls of the prison, she'll be able to escape this routine that boiled in her veins which she vomited and shit so much she couldn't count. She won't have to eat food in this nasty place, come on it can hardly be called food mostly watered down noodles with some unknown sauce she always wrinkled her face at the sight of it while holding back her vomiting motions.

But she had to eat it to not die, come on she would have gladly jumped into the arms of the dark reaper. But not like this, death by starvation was for those who gave up those who no longer had the will and strength to keep fighting - Oh fuck on, don't think so much," Robert complained, his patience was never great. For that she liked him he often lost patience, but he was a good man a good nicotine dealer - Jeez, you can't just tell me I'm leaving and not give away the details - I muttered raising myself gracefully on my hands to get up from the ground.

- You'll find out all the details soon enough - confessed the guard began to lead me down that familiar dingy corridor, the echo of our footsteps spread along the entire length of the corridor and bounced off the walls - What's there to explain much? I'm going to freedom - the surprise written on the face of the teenager exceptionally amused the guard, who patted her on the shoulder

- You'll be surprised honey, you'll be surprised," he confessed with a slight giggle and his British accent sounded on his lips so that she had to strain her hearing and wits to understand him. If sight kills Sullyvan would be dead more than once he could have already dug himself thousands of graves thousands of times Jinx sent him the same or that threw daggers when she didn't like something - You watch out Sullyvan yet you will find that your dick will get smaller - muttered quietly the teenager entering the room where she had been questioned many times.

She didn't like this room, not because this is where they interrogate all juvenile delinquents, but for the fact that they also used this room for torture as she called it. When someone misbehaved they would take them into this room lock them up and beat them as if they wanted to kill them, but at the edge of life and death they would restrain themselves as if they guessed that what they were doing was wrong, but... they kept doing it self-reflection was lacking and the trauma in the prisoners grew with every fucking day.

Jinx wished the walkers of these youngest had it better, but she could only dream. All she could think about was what was about to happen to her next interrogation? Not then the main one of the guards would come for her. Torture? After all, she hadn't done anything wrong, at least not recently. They could have found out about the cigarette dealer, but then Robert would have been screwed too and not just her, she was already alone in the room a metal table stood in the middle of the room and two black chairs beside it, she couldn't forget how uncomfortable those chairs were she spent hours sitting on one of them as she got up from the table the other day she could sit down that her legs didn't exist. The same for her butt.

She didn't even notice the moment the woman walked in she was quite an older woman to her eye, but she didn't have that many gray hairs, she could have been in her forties, but work had caused her a mass of wrinkles and the little gray hairs that are in her bun and in her bangs - Oho fuck Laswell - muttered Jinx running her hand over her already tired face, a day full of thoughts was slowly killing her

She knew Kate, she was the one who caught her. If only she hadn't trusted her she wouldn't be here, but that trust hadn't disappeared by some miracle she respected this womanodź herself couldn't explain why. Maybe it was the idea she came up with when they tried to catch her, the local police couldn't handle it so they called for better support not the military, but the CIA agency was no longer a go-between as Jinx found out the day she was caught. She was extremely snarky and annoyed, but Laswell saw something in her, but never told her what - Should I be happy to see you? - The rhetoric in Jinx's question was ignored by Kate

- Yes you should. I have an offer," the older woman confessed as she sat down in an uncomfortable chair at the table, feeling sorry for her she doesn't know what she's done sitting down in that chair, "You'll get out of juvie," the woman began as she saw Jinx's eyes glowing her blue irises showed hope which Laswell beat like an egg to scrambled eggs, "But you'll be in the care of the military so you can re-enter the civilian world when the government decides you won't harm anyone," Laswell explained

The hope in the teenager's eyes was extinguished, someone is supposed to watch over her like a child? She is not a child to hell she is sixteen years old. And she is not dangerous! She has changed, no. She hasn't changed.

But the offer sounded so beautiful she wouldn't have to see all those guards' faces anymore, she wouldn't be afraid of whether she did everything right and whether she would end up in this Hall but for the torture. Everything sounded so beautiful, she couldn't believe it

Everyone lies, after all

But. If she turned it down she would be a fool, she didn't know what to do herself. But if an unsuitable and incompetent caretaker came along she could easily escape, but then she would lose a sure roof over her head and food, if she got it at all. New caretakers might not trust her as much and claim that the food they give her is plenty and there would probably be enough to keep her from starving to death, but she would certainly lose weight.

She didn't know what to do

A mass of questions few answers

To trust or not to trust?

What should she do?

She didn't know. She was at the mercy of fate, which was anyway like a flimsy thread that had survived more than she had in her entire life - And what will I get out of it? - asked the skeptical teenager Laswell turned her head slightly to the side without taking her eyes off the younger girl - If you behave well and show the committee that you have changed you will regain your full freedom - stated Kate leaning back crossing her arms on her chest. The teen squinted her eyes wanted to find any sign that Laswell was lying, but couldn't.

Either the agent is so adept at hiding her lies or it's Jinx who can't read them. The offer sounded so beautiful in the teenager's mind - Fine. I'll go," Jinx stated, "But what if I don't change? - she asked suddenly, when Laswell started to get up, the older woman interrupted her activity to look at Jinx - Then you will come back here. And most likely you'll get out when you grow up, but it won't be that easy you'll then be monitored constantly every day until you make one mistake and end up in an actual real prison and not a reformatory," she explained without lying to Laswell

It sounded a little like a threat, Jinx began to regret asking - Well no matter. Let's go," she said, wanting to lose this topic already not to think about it intensely, she was tired. The day had just begun and already sucked all the essence of energy on her.

- Okay, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. For that, pack to what you want to take, if you have anything," Laswell stated, waving her hand towards the Venetian mirror for the guard to escort me to my cell.

A new opportunity?

New fun. But if they fucked it up it will come back here and it won't be colorful, but was Laswell lying sometimes? She didn't know, but new paths in life interested her she wanted to check them out.

She had been on this show before she had been with police officers most often commentators, but they gave up at her frequent pranks she had been with ex-military men who had retired, but she was too quick and resourceful for them.

Jinx is now curious to see what Laswell has come up with for her, already new plans are forming in her head on how to fuck up the life of the one who wants to take on her care. This is going to be interesting

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elliebyrrdwrites · 10 months ago

Text

McGonagall pulls the handful of us 8th year students into her office after dinner. She pulls us aside and tells all eight of us that we’re outcasts. We don’t belong, we don’t fit.

It might not be what she actually says, but it is what I hear and, I always hear the truth.

But she pulls us aside and she says that we no longer fit in the dungeons or the towers high in the sky. She pulls us aside and she lies. And I know she lies because I’m the only returning Slytherin from my year. I could fit anywhere, my one single body fits anywhere. It’s slender, though tall, and I’ve lost so much weight, you could stick me into the cracks between the stones on the floor and I’d sleep better than most.

McGonagall, she pulls us aside and tells us that they’ve taken the old abandoned third floor corridor, on the right hand side of the building, and they’ve rebuilt it. They’ve taken the old, useless, unwanted piece of real estate and they’ve turned it into a temporary holding cell. They’ve filled it with beds, she said, and our very own common room and private bathrooms. But, since there is so few of us, the showers are co-ed and I wonder if she wants us to be fucking instead of studying.

Not that I’d touch any of the students surrounding me.

Because the eight of us, it’s me. And it’s Granger and it’s Longbottom. It’s Lovegood, it’s Dean Thomas and it’s Michael Corner. It’s Hannah Abbot and it’s Zacharias Smith.

It’s going to be all of us, stuffed into a small space, sharing showers and I’m almost certain someone is going to end up slobbing a knob in the showers and I can’t even begin to tell you how much it bothers me to know that it won’t be me.

If I have anything to do with it, it won’t be Granger either.

If I can’t fuck, then neither can she.

I’ve decided that I don’t care about my education. I’m exceptional at magic, I excel in all subjects. I don’t care about politics. I just care about taking that little bit of myself that she stole from me. I care about making her life as miserable as I am. Together, we belong in misery.

So, McGonagall takes us all and she leads us to the third floor corridor that used to be off limits and she opens the door to the right side and unveils something that reminds me of a cheap rendition of my family’s drawing room.

There’s a few couches, a chess set. There’s two tables meant for doing our homework. There’s a window that overlooks the Black Lake.

There’s a fireplace that is already cackling away with burning lumps of wood. Another tree lost to the world, a little less oxygen left for us to breathe.

McGonagall points to the door to the left of the fireplace and she tells us that there’s a there’s a room that way, and another room that way, to the right of the fireplace. Two rooms. Split amongst the eight of us. She tells us that each room connects to a shared lavatory.

This is quite simply the worst.

I’m stuck in another kind of hell. I’ll have to sleep with Longbottom, Thomas, Corner and Smith.

Except, McGonagall doesn’t specify if the girls are separated from the boys. She just tells us to choose wisely and to make the most of the situation, and then she hands us our schedules and sweeps out of the room, leaving all eight of us to stare at one another in horror.

Only, Zacharias Smith is eyeing Granger. He has taken his eyes and he’s running them over her round tits and her indulgent hips. He’s taking his eyes and he thinks he’s going to convince her to bunk with him and I laugh out loud when he opens his mouth, his eyes zoning in on Grangers tits.

They all look at me as if I’ve lost my mind. But Granger won’t look at me. She’s doing that thing again, that dismissive bit that makes me want to slam her against the wall. It makes me want to pull her hair and bite her cheek.

“Which side do you boys want?” She asks. She’s tilting her head and cocking her hip and I get the distinct feeling that every boy in here wants to fuck her raw. I have the feeling that even the girls find her sexy but secretly, they probably hate her.

Of course, I don’t want to fuck her.

The point is, another ant is crawling up my neck and I can’t help the instinct to slap my hand over it, murdering the sacrificial ant. Because, god save the queen and all that shit. I have to remind myself that I am the only wizard in the room who does not want to fuck Hermione Granger.

Her eyes dart over to me. She finally looks at me, her eyebrow lifting as she eyes my neck. It’s probably red from the force of my slap. I wonder if she can see the poor little ant corpse.

Longbottom rubs, anxiously, at the back of his neck and shrugs. “We could flip a coin.”

“Why don’t we look at them before we decide.” Michael Corner suggests with a yawn.

“I doubt they’re much different from each other.” Granger shakes her head. She looks at Abbot and Lovegood and lifts a brow at them. “What do you think?”

Lovegood points to the room on the left side. “Let’s pick this one. It’s closest to the exit.”

“Very well, it’s settled. Good night, boys.” There goes Hermione Granger, bossing everyone around and there goes everyone else. They just take it, they bend over, they lift up their skirts and they just take the big cock she sticks in all of their asses.

“Well,” I begin. “Since it’s near the exit, I think it’s best if we take the room.” I sniff and lift my chin and Granger puts her eyes on me and I leer at her. I leer and I wait for her to bark something, anything at me.

She shrugs and rolls her eyes, instead. “Whatever.” And then she’s walking away, again. She’s taking her eyes and she’s pulling them away from me and again, she leaves me unfulfilled.

She disappears into the room, on the right, and Lovegood and Abbott follow her.

The males all shrug and disappear into the door on the left and I think about sleeping here on the couch.

Instead, I follow and fall into the bed closest to the door. I don’t remove my dirty clothes, I don’t even take off my shoes. I just lay my dirty, sweaty head onto the clean linen and close my eyes.

I don’t know if I sleep or if I have somehow manipulated time.

I open my eyes, like I’ve only just blinked and there’s sunlight streaming in through the window.

There’s a shower running somewhere. I can hear it through the door that separates our room from the girls room.

Three shower stalls. Three sinks. Three doors for private toilets. One urinal tucked into the corner. This is the information I’ve quickly collected when I step into the bathroom. I hang my clothes and scourgify them. Until I can sneak away to the shrieking shack, this is all I have.

The witch taking a shower is Granger. She’s singing a song that sounds like something I might like to wrap around my brain for a moment. She sings like I don’t even exist in the world and it makes my stomach ache. How do I make her respond to me? How do I make things make sense again?

There’s something happening inside of me. It feels like the ants have invaded the bathroom. It feels like they’re all over me, inside of me and it feel like these little ants are full of electricity.

Like they have some sort of power over me. They force me to stand in front of her shower stall in nothing but my boxer briefs and I’ve become glued to the tiled floor.

And the point is, I can’t make myself do anything else. The point is, that when she shuts the water off and pulls the curtain open, already wrapped in a towel, I’m standing right in front of her.

She sucks in a quick, startled breath when she finds me there. Quickly though Granger’s fright vanishes and her eyebrows pull down as she stares at me with something like concern.

Her skin is like a flower with morning dew.

Her hair is piled atop of her head and only the curls that hang limply around her face are damp.

I can’t move. My fingers twitch, like I might reach out and grab her. Like I might press my hand against her shoulder and slam her into the wall. Like I might hide us away and finally hurt her the way I secretly want to.

With my hands, with her skin changing color beneath my fingers. With my mouth, my tongue, my cock.

Wait.

No.

This is Granger, and I hate her.

So, I tell her what I think. “No amount of showering will ever get that dirty blood of yours clean.” I say it but my dick is threatening to tell her something else.

The corner of her mouth lifts, her shoulder mottled with drops of water shrugs.

“Whatever.” She says it and there’s something airy and whimsical about her voice.

And something inside of me reacts. I break.

I break and I can’t help the things I do because it’s just the natural process of things.

When she makes to move past me, I use my body to block her from leaving the shower. A shiver runs up my body, and her big brown-gold topaz eyes widen as my hand wraps around her upper arm. I move her backwards and force her back against the wall. My hand wants to hurt her, it wants her to give me all of her time and all of her attention. If even for just a moment.

Her skin is slick and slippery and suddenly, I’m imagining the space between her thighs.

Now, I know I’m not the man my parents hoped I would be.

I’m something worse, because whatever they raised me to be, doesn’t include imagining my fingers in Hermione Grangers cunt.

But, I need to make her and I belong. We need to go back to where we belong. Together. Or else, what am I? I never belong. Except for when I’m bothering Granger.

“Malfoy,” She gasps out my name and I hold her against the wall while my body closes in on her. My hand is wrapped around her arm and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

Her round tits are pressed against my chest and her head is tilted up, staring up at me with caution, with fear.

“Stop dismissing me.” I growl quietly into her face.

She says nothing, and she just stares at me like she can’t decide if I belong. So I move my other hand into her hair at the back of her head and pull. “Did you hear me, Mudblood?”

Her eyes flare. They’re gold and brown and they burn. She’s scowling up at me, fighting the hold I have on her hair. Her bun is coming loose, strands are falling down and framing her panicked and angry face.

Something warm creeps into my chest as she lifts her fist, balled up and angry and she pounds it against my chest. “Fuck you, Malfoy.”

Oh, yes. Fuck, yes.

My body pushes into hers. I’m digging my hips against her and I’m smiling, actually fucking smile. “There she is.” I murmur and she sucks in a tight breath. We’re all too close and it’s a sin, really. It’s a sin to have my cock so close to that warm space between her thighs, but it feels better than insulting her. It feels better than when I told my parents to fuck off after they picked me up from the facility this summer.

She swallows hard. I dig my nose into her temple and breathe her in. Lavender. Damp grass. It’s wonderful. It’s awful. I hate her.

She completes me.

Her angry little face completes this crumbled bit of rock I’m standing on.

“You and I,” I say into her ear. My hand loosens its hold on her hair, and finds its way to her hip. I hold her in place, between me and the wall.

Her breasts are pushing against me, over and over, as she pants. Her breath is coasting against the side of my face.

I want to tell her that we belong at each others throats. That we belong, somehow, together, but also, apart. I want to tell her that I need her. I need her anger and her vitriol.

But none of that comes out.

No, instead, my teeth close over her earlobe. She whimpers and arches her back. And I repeat the words, my tongue snaking against the shell of her ear.

“You and I.” I say it again, like it’s a promise.

My hands detach themselves from her. With one hand holding her towel over her naked body the other shoves at my chest, hard.

“Fuck you.” She hisses again, before I let her past me. She storms out of the shower stall and I hear her bare feet slap against the tiled floor before the door to her room opens and closes behind her.

There’s an ant on my stomach. It dies by the palm of my hand. Another is on my chest, my arm, my face. Slap, slap, slap.

What the fuck is wrong with me? What did I just do?

My fingers dig into my hair and I laugh. I laugh and I feel tears sting the backs of my eyes. I have no idea what I’m doing. But, for the first time in two years, I feel less like a prisoner. For the first time in two years, I feel like the taste of freedom is just near the tip of my tongue.

Who knew it could feel so good?

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faerieyoongles · 1 month ago

Text

The Keepers 006

Hello, Keeper #0054. Welcome to your first assignment. Jeon Jungkook is the son of the wealthiest arms dealer in South Korea, and your job is to ensure his safety at all costs except one, he cannot know of your existence. In fact, nobody can know of our Society's existence. We have rules we must follow and a timeline to protect. Do your job and do it well... we're counting on you.

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Chapter Select My Masterlist Questions?

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warnings: gun violence, death, blood

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Chapter 006

I returned to my post at 4 AM the next day, exactly twenty-four hours after I received the authorization to leave in the first place. I grabbed anything I could before I left. Food packets, first aid supplies and medication, even an extra pocketknife just in case. I added another sack to my belt to carry more items. My guns have been polished and cleaned, both pocketknives sharpened, and I’m fully stocked with ammo. I was fully prepared to face whatever crazy quest Jungkook sent me on now, except for one annoying factor that I unfortunately couldn’t do anything about. My head was throbbing, pulsing with the rhythm of my blood as it moved through my veins. Not taking my infusion for the first time ever was a horrible idea. I couldn’t think straight, all I could feel was my muscles at my temples twitch and strain. I felt dizzy. I took some pills in the hopes it would help but no luck so far.

Upon approaching Jungkook’s window, I see another Keeper in my spot. I lock eyes with him, he nods and then moves away, disappearing into the shadows. It was the same Keeper I had seen take my place when I left my post. The substitute. I wonder if he was debriefed on Jungkook the same way I was. Does he know everything I know about him? Something inside me scraped against my scalp, causing my temples to twitch. Was it jealousy? Possessiveness? I’m not sure, all I know is I hated the idea of someone else watching over Jungkook while I was away.

I shake my thoughts away and peer back into the window looking into Jungkook’s room. He was exactly where I left him, sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep. Of course, he probably had a full day in between now and when I left last night, but I liked to think that his world paused the moment I left. That I hadn’t missed out on anything.

I slowly opened his window, as I had done many nights before. The only thing that was different was his clothes. He slept on his back with his hands on his chest, his lips slightly agape. I’ve never had the urge to watch him sleep before, but right now he looked so peaceful. I envied the fact that he got to rest each night in a warm bed. The twin bunk bed I slept on at the hub was made of metal and a stiff mattress. The blankets were scratchy and barely thick enough to keep out the harsh cold of the sewers. Jungkook’s comforter looks soft and warm. All I wanted to do was crawl in next to him and shut my eyes. I bet if I laid close enough, I could fall asleep with his scent wrapped around me. In fact, this whole room smelled like him, in the best way possible. He embodied the essence of fabric softener and vanilla. I’ve never smelt anything quite as pleasant, and as I took a big whiff up my nose, I felt all my muscles soften. He’s slightly snoring, chest rising and deflating in a rhythmic pattern. I could get a little closer, smell him more, see all the little details of his face I never get to study…

Holy fuck, what the hell is wrong with me? Snap out of it, Fifty-Four, you have a job to do!

My thoughts are interrupted by a sudden bright light and disruptive ringing sound coming from Jungkook’s bedside table. It was his phone. Fuck! I slipped quickly underneath the bed just as Jungkook was opening his eyes. Thank god he didn’t store anything under there. I hear him stir above me, then the ringing sound is silenced.

“Hello.” Jungkook croaks out, voice still asleep along with the rest of his body. I can hear a muffled voice on the other side of the phone, but it’s too faint for me to make out what the other person is saying. “Now?” He questions. “Hyung, it’s-” he pauses for a beat, I’m assuming he pulled his phone back from his ear to look at the time “-four in the fucking morning. What could he possibly want at this hour?” I hear the bed above me creak loudly as he moves, the muffled voice on the other line still ranting about something. Suddenly, Jungkook's feet are right in front of my face. He stood up from the bed and was walking towards his dresser. When he walks far enough away from the bed, I can finally see his face again. He’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Moving the phone away from his ear, he presses a button and the voice on the other line becomes much louder. He places the phone atop his dresser and starts opening the draws.

“He says they need them ‘in a timely manner’.” Says the voice on the other line. I’m ninety percent sure it’s Namjoon. “Normally for an order so last minute, I’d tell them to fuck off and wait till we can get to them in the afternoon, but I don’t want to aggravate him anymore than we already have.” Jungkook grabs a shirt from his dresser and takes off the one he’s wearing. Oh god, he’s undressing. I shouldn’t look, it’s creepy to keep staring at him from under his bed while he strips. I’m suddenly reminded of when he changed in front of me the first time, back in Yoongi’s building. Heat flushes my face. I didn’t feel this hot the first time I saw him almost naked. In fact, I didn’t even think about the fact that he was exposed in front of me at the time. I look away to let him change in private. It’s already invasive enough that I’m hiding under his bed. Plus, my moral code wouldn’t let me even indulge the idea of peaking a look at his unsuspecting body. “Meet me at the van when you’re ready. I already have the package loaded.”

“Alright.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and finishes changing. He’s put on the same thing he usually wears, a tee shirt and jeans with his old brown boots.

I head down to the van before Jungkook is even down the stairs. I needed time to slither underneath it again. By now, I’ve done this quite a few times, so I was used to the motions of it. I took note that there was a medium sized crate loaded in the back trunk. Namjoon hadn’t yet closed the doors when I got there. It looked the same as every other crate they delivered last week. Every one of them was filled with a variety of different weapons. Pistols, handguns, rifles, automatics, any gun I knew to exist- they sold it. Usually, there were other things like ammo, knives, sometimes explosives but I’d only ever see them trade those once. Other times, there’s trackers or silencers, maybe bullet-proof vests or shields if the customers paid enough. The more important the customer was, the bigger the package and the quicker Jungkook and Namjoon would have to get it to them. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them deliver a package this big, and if Namjoon is insistent they must deliver it now, the client must be extremely important.

The two men drive about half an hour into the city. From what I know of Seoul, which isn’t a lot, this wasn’t the safest part of town to be in. It was barely even dawn, yet it seemed like the whole city was awake. Noise blared in every direction, from police sirens to people shouting. Litter was all over the street, my back scraped against a few cans and bottles, thank god for my suit or else my back would have been all scratched up. Jungkook finally turns the van down a narrow street, then down a long alleyway behind a set of buildings. This looked to be a small clearing where the shops around here kept their garbage disposals. We were surrounded by graffitied concrete walls at all angles. Even the noise of the rest of the city seemed to dim back here. Both men got out of the van, and when I looked to the side, I saw the boots of four men waiting in the corner. They walked towards the van while Jungkook and Namjoon walked to the trunk to open it.

“What took so long?” Asked a deep melancholy voice. The man speaking wore thick combat boots.

“You called in the middle of the fucking night.” Jungkook spit back as he opened the trunk, revealing the crate.

“Clearly, I should've called sooner.” The deep voice replies. “Open it.” He gestured to the other men beside him. The men move towards the trunk, and I hear the sound of the crate being popped open. The deep voiced man steps closer, peering into the crate. “This is not the amount we asked for.” He says sternly.

“Well, it’s what we have.” Jungkook says. “If you want the rest of the automatics, you’ll have to wait a few days.”

“No. We need them now. Today!” Shouts the deep voiced man. “You promised them all last week.”

“They’re not that easy to get, Taehyung.” Namjoon argues.

Taehyung. This is the leader of the Cobras. This was the man Jungkook had been plotting against, the one he's desperately trying to cut ties with, the man going around the city leaving bodies in his trail.

“With the quantity you’re asking for, we have to be diligent about obtaining and transporting them.” Jungkook says. “For the one's we do have, the safest bet is to transport them in smaller quantities to not look suspicious. If anybody else in the city knew we were carrying these, we'd be making ourselves a target.” I see Taehyung stalk closer to where Jungkook was standing.

“If I knew any better, I’d say you’re keeping them from me deliberately.” Taehyung sneers.

“Why would I do that?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, why would you do that?” Taehyung moves away from Jungkook and back to the crate. “I heard you paid Yoongi Hyung a visit last week.” I can feel my pulse thicken. The image of the fear in Mr. Min’s eyes flashes in my head. “How is he?”

“Fine, I guess.” Jungkook keeps his tones and breathing normal. He doesn’t seem nervous like I am.

“May I ask the reason for your visit?” Taehyung looks towards the two men, and there’s a beat before anybody says anything. “I heard Seokjin Hyung was injured too. Weird, I thought the two of them were business buddies.”

“They had a… disagreement.” Namjoon says.

“Coincidentally, at the moment you showed up?” I can hear the aggravation in Taehyung's voice. I haven’t even seen this man yet and I’m already cowering in his presence.

“It was just bad timing,” Jungkook says “We went to see him and Mr. Min ‘cause we haven’t seen them in a while. That’s all. You could go and visit them too if you want.”

Taehyung scoffs. “You know I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Namjoon asks. “Mr. Min practically raised you. You know, he doesn’t blame you for what happened that day.”

“Yeah, well I blame him.” Taehyung sneers. “My father and my bride would still be with me if it weren’t for that man.”

I hear Jungkook scoff. “‘Bride’ is a loaded word.”

“We were to be married, weren’t we? I’d probably have an heir by now if she were here, and we all would’ve benefited if the original alliance was still intact-”

“She hated you.” Jungkook spits “Don’t you remember who pleaded to break the alliance in the first place?”

“She would’ve come to understand.” Taehyung moves even closer to Jungkook, his face a mere inch from him. “She hated me then, sure, but she was mine. There would’ve been nothing she could've done about it if her father hadn’t gotten involved.”

Jungkook keeps his position, staring Taehyung straight in his eyes. "You were foolish to think Mr. Min wouldn’t have involved himself, and you’re even more of a fool if you really think she wouldn’t have just killed you herself. She was being kind by asking her father to reason with the Cobras-”

“Enough!” Taehyung growls right up against Jungkook. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

“You brought her up.” Jungkook points out. Taehyung walks away from his position in front of Jungkook.

“Unload the crate.” Taehyung orders his three men. They do as such, lifting the crate out of the trunk and onto the concrete floor. “I’ll give you three grand.”

“Only three? That’s half of what you promised for this shipment.” Jungkook spits out. He makes no effort in concealing his disdain for the gang leader.

“You only gave me half of what I asked for.”

“Because the amount you’re asking for is impossible, we’re giving you everything we can." Jungkook holds his stance in a way that looks defensive. “This crate is worth five grand at least.”

“Need I remind you of the alliance we have with your father? You get us the weapons we need, and we protect your little business.” Taehyung and his posse stand firm. “It’d be a shame to disrupt that system over an argument about money, but I'm able to do what is necessary. Get us our weapons, and we won't have a problem.” I can hear a gun being raised.

I have to move to a better position. If something goes down, I’ll never get to Jungkook quickly enough from under the van. I moved to the front, opposite where everyone was standing. I slip out and stand in front of the hood. If I moved to the top of the van and laid flat, I would still be well hidden. Plus, I’d have the advantage if a shootout were to happen. It was still pretty dark out, and my suit does exactly what it’s intended for, blending in with the shadows. Moving to the top of the van, I peer down but only slightly. If I lift my gaze too high, I’d be too exposed.

In the corner of my eye, I see a shadow move. I look in that direction, but there’s nothing. I advert my gaze back to the men in front of me, but there it is again. A swift shadowing moving behind one of the large disposal bins. I hone my focus on the shadow for a moment. No, not a shadow, a Keeper. Who else here had a Keeper protecting them? Maybe Taehyung. But why would a notorious mass murderer have the honor of the protection of a Keeper? I know the Head Grieve said death and destruction was necessary in order to keep the timeline heading towards the best outcome for society, but somebody like Taehyung seemed to only cause harm. What could Taehyung possibly provide that could be counted as constructive?

The other Keeper hiding behind the garbage locks eyes with me. Fuck, this means that if shit really hits the fan, I can’t just team up with Jungkook like I did last time. I could actually get in serious trouble if another Keeper saw me expose myself to a human.

“Listen, Hyung,” Jungkook has his hands up, showing complacency “this is genuinely the best we can do.”

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?” Taehyung accuses. “Why do I feel like you’re purposely withholding weapons from us? This whole month, you’ve given us nothing but issues every time we request a shipment. Now, you’re in cahoots with the Mins again?”

“We’re not ‘in cahoots’ with anybody, it was just a visit.” He pleads.

“You’re a terrible liar, Kook. Does your father know about your little day trip?” Jungkook goes silent. “Of course he doesn’t. He’d probably kill you himself if he knew.”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon interjects, “put the gun down and we'll work something out.”

Taehyung moves his eyes over to Namjoon. “I’ve already worked something out.” He looks back at Jungkook. “I’ve spoken to your father.” Jungkook’s face drops. This is the first time I’ve seen him show any real fear. It seems the scariest thing that actually shakes Jungkook to the core, is his father. “He says any potential deals with the Mins have been rejected. He promised all ties with them had been fully severed.”

“And you believe everything my father says?” Jungkook retorts. “I have a contract right here-”

“Kook.” Namjoon warns. He flashes a look to him, almost as if asking ‘we’re doing this now?’

“that proves he, himself, reopened business with the Mins.” Jungkook continues. Taehyung goes silent for a moment, he looks almost hurt.

“I don’t believe you.” He challenges.

“See for yourself.” Jungkook pulled out the document we stole from Yoongi’s office out from his back pocket. How long has he been carrying that thing around with him? He unfolds it and shows it to Taehyung. “By the end of this month, we’ll no longer be providing our services to you. All our products will go to the Min Industries.”

Taehyung just stands there in awe-struck. I can see the paper shaking in his hand as he reads it. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.” He promises. Taehyung crumples the documents and chucks it at Jungkook's chest. “If you stay out of our way, we’ll stay out of yours. The Mins will leave the Cobra’s alone, so long as you stay away from both our businesses.”

“I will kill both of you and everyone you love!” Taehyung yells.

“Unless you want the Mins to turn you into the police, I suggest you not do that.” Jungkook warns.

“Fuck the police, they’ve been on our tails for years.”

“Because they could never find you,” Namjoon stalks a little closer to the gang leader, who’s flailing his arms in disbelief. “you wouldn’t want somebody exposing your whereabouts to the law, would you?”

“Is that a threat?” Taehyung questions.

“It’s a warning.” Jungkook states.

“Fuck your warnings!” Taehyung shouts. “I’m king of this city, and those who are not allies are enemies. Do you know what I do to my enemies?” Taehyung raises his gun again, and so do the three men behind him. “I ruin them!”

Taehyung fires his gun, but just as he does so he’s tackled to the ground by Namjoon. The bullet he fired barely misses Jungkook's head and puts a dent in the wall. Fuck, this is terrible. I can’t do much except shoot from my position. I take my gun out from its holster and point it straight at Taehyung, who’s lying on the ground trying to dodge the punches Namjoon throws at him. Two of the other Cobras are also trying to pry Namjoon off Taehyung, while the third Cobra is getting his ass beat by Jungkook. The poor guy is knocked out cold in seconds. I try to keep my aim steady, as to not accidentally shoot Namjoon in the process, but they’re twisting and turning all over the place it’s hard to get a solid shot. I finally feel like I have a good angle, I’m about to take a shot when I feel excruciating pressure on my back. I let out a horrid scream, catching the attention of most men below the van.

I look behind me and see the Keeper that was behind the garbage bins. She was standing on my back. Not just standing, stomping. I could feel my spine threaten to snap and she jammed her boots along the outline of my bones. What. The. Fuck. She was deliberately exposing herself, standing straight up atop the van for all six men below to see. Are there any Keepers who actually abide by the rules in this city? Fuck it then, if she’s going to play dirty, then so am I. So much for staying in the shadows.

I move my gun and aim it at her head. I shoot and she dodges quickly. She reaches down to try and pull my gun from me, I use this opportunity of a close proximity to headbutt her in the face. I hear her groan, along with a cracking sound that I’m assuming is her nose breaking. She tumbles backwards, giving me the ability to stand up. My back has a piercing pain running up and down it, but I push that to the side for now. I look back at Jungkook, and he has the last two remaining Cobras both jumping on him. I can deal with the Keeper later, I have to save Jungkook first.

I hop off the van and tackle one of the Cobras attacking Jungkook. The first one isn’t easy to take down. I twist his arm back and he yells like a baby. I kick him hard in the stomach, sending him flying back towards the wall. The other one comes at me, I take one of my pocketknives out from my belt and flick it open. The Cobra latches onto me for a moment, then my knife is in his abdomen the next. He looks me in the eyes as I twist the knife deeper into his flesh. The two Cobras I just took down looked young, and I almost feel bad.

“I see you have your own Keeper now, Kook.” I hear Taehyung say from behind me. I turn around and see Taehyung and the other Keeper standing next to each other. I have a million questions dancing in my head, but there’s no time to address any of them. By Taehyung’s feet lay Namjoon holding his stomach. He doesn’t look so good. There’s blood running down his shirt and dripping onto the ground. “She may be able to protect you, but she can’t protect the ones you love.” Taehyung takes his gun and aims it towards Namjoon’s head. “Take off your mask, Keeper!” he shouts at me. “Now! Or I’ll shoot!” I don’t want Namjoon to die, but I refuse to take my mask off, especially after Mr. Min’s warning.

"Why?" I ask, firmly.

"I want to see the look on your face when I kill you and your assignment." Taehyung has the most vicious smirk across his face.

“Please.” I look behind me and see a pleading Jungkook, scared and desperate.

I raise my gun towards Taehyung’s head. A second later, the other Keeper takes out her gun and aims it at Jungkook’s head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” She says. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. There’s no way out of this. I can’t find a solution where I can get both of them out and keep my mask on. I sit silent for a moment, but nothing changes. If I shoot, Jungkook dies. If I do nothing, Namjoon dies, and maybe Jungkook too. We’ve been outsmarted. I’ve been outsmarted. Why do I keep constantly failing?

I lift my hand and pull my hood back. My long black hair is kept neatly back in a ponytail. I can feel my hair swing out and touch my back once my hood has been fully removed. I move to my face, my heart throbbing so loud I can hear it in my ears. I take the mask and remove it off my face. I feel the cold air of the night hit my pores instantly, and I can smell the musty city clearer now.

I look Taehyung straight in the eyes. “There.” I say. His face drops, eyes shoot out in horrible disbelief. “Happy?”

I look over at Namjoon, and he’s giving me the same look. I look back at Jungkook, and he too looks like he’s seen a ghost. What’s going on? This was the same reaction Mr. Min had when he looked into my eyes the first time. Damn, was I really that ugly or something?

“You.” Taehyung croaks out. “You’re supposed to be dead!” I look at him confused. The other Keeper moves closer to Taehyung.

“Our memories are wiped upon entering the Society.” She says into his ear. “She likely has no idea who she even is.”

“Did you know about this?” Taehyung sneers at his Keeper beside him. She nods slowly.

“She entered the hub about a week ago.” She replies.

“And you didn’t think to inform me of that!” Taehyung yells, he moves his gun from aiming at Namjoon to the Keeper. Instead of attacking him, she backs away.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” She insists. Jungkook takes this as an opportunity to move towards the bleeding Namjoon on the floor. I follow, Namjoon continues to stare up at me, face going pale. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s shocked to see me or because of the amount of blood he’s losing. “Love, please. I swear, I was planning on telling you.”

“When exactly? I trust you with everything and I expect the same in return!”

“I do trust you!” She pleads. She removes her own hood and mask to reveal her face. It was the girl from the hub, the one who sat facing away from me in the corner. “I just- I knew how much this would affect you…”

I hand Jungkook some gauze from my sack, though I don’t think they’re going to do much. Namjoon’s been hit right where his lungs are, and he’s starting to wheeze, his eyelids fluttering open and shut.

“No, no. Hey, look at me.” Jungkook says softly to him, slapping his cheek a few times to wake him up. “No dying tonight, alright.” Namjoon doesn’t respond, just tries his hardest to keep his eyes open.

“We have to go.” I say softly to Jungkook. He looks back at me, and there’s water building up at the base of his eyes. He looks back at Namjoon, then me, then Namjoon again. “Put him in the back of the van.” He nods. I take one side of Namjoon and Jungkook takes the other. We hoist him up and try to lead him to the trunk of the van.

“Stop!” Taehyung ordered us. “You’re not going anywhere!”

“Hyung, he’s dying!” Jungkook pleads.

“I don’t give a shit!” Taehyung yells. “All of you are dead to me anyways.” Taehyung raises his gun once more. I try to grab mine at my belt, but both my hands are occupied trying to hold Namjoon up. There’s not enough time to react.

It seemed like minutes, but it was only seconds. The bullet leaves the chamber of Taehyung’s gun, the blast echoing off every wall around us. As soon as I hear the gunshot, I feel Namjoon go limp.

There’s a bullet hole, right between his eyes.

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Author's note: Hey! Thanks for being so patient with me, sorry about the long wait. In the past week, my dizziness has kind of worsened, I'm going to try and do my best to keep up with posting three times a week, but I might have to start doing twice a week instead. If I plan on being slow to update again, I'll let you know in advance!

Also, I decided I'm not going to do a taglist. Not a ton of people asked to be a part of it, plus my tags aren't working correctly. I don't know if it's an issue with my laptop or what, but it's just inconvenient and unnecessary so I decided I'm just not going to do it lol. Sorry!

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#bts fanfiction #bts ff #bts #the keepers #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkookff

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