PDA is not Andrew and Neil’s thing, but when they’ve become more comfortable showing affection with each other alone, they start to show some subtle affection under very specific circumstances
Not around the team, but around Kevin
Because they spend a lot of time around Kevin
Kevin still prefers having Andrew with him to feel safe
Plus, the three of them have night practices
And the great thing about Kevin is he does not care
Nicky would freak out and gush over the smallest thing
And Allison would have questions
Matt would be staring and discussing bets
Dan would stare too and probably try to get another picture of them if she thought she could get away with it
Renee wouldn’t react badly, but they don’t spend that much time alone with her
Aaron would be annoyed after everything Andrew has put him through any time he’s so much as looked at a girl
But Kevin doesn’t really pay attention to Andrew and Neil’s relationship
He’s pretty much indifferent unless Andrew is getting in the way of Neil paying attention to exy or Andrew is actually making an effort at exy because of Neil
Andrew and Neil show tiny hints of affection in front of Kevin, but never kiss or do anything too major in front of him
It’s the small things
It’s Neil mentioning he’s hungry and a few minutes later, Andrew coincidentally making food for himself and bringing some out just for Neil, while Kevin’s sitting at his desk with highlights playing on his laptop
It’s Neil resting his arm between the driver and passenger seat and Andrew setting his arm next to Neil’s a few minutes later, just close enough that their pinkies are barely touching, as Kevin spouts off stats in the backseat
It’s Kevin making them sit through a historical documentary and Neil and Andrew sitting close enough that their legs are touching, while Nicky’s at the library, trying to finish up a project at the last minute
It’s fingers interlocked as they walk through the abandoned parking lot after night practice, while Kevin silently reflects on the practice and decides what to work on with Neil next time
It’s Neil punching the court wall in frustration because he doesn’t have Kevin’s new drill down and Andrew storming over, grabbing Neil’s hand, and ripping his glove off to get a look
Andrew holding Neil’s knuckles close to his face to investigate the damage while Neil insists “I’m fine.”
Andrew holding Neil’s hand so gently in his for long enough that Allison would have definitely made a comment
Andrew not really believing Neil’s fine until Neil flexes his fingers to prove he can
Andrew dropping Neil’s hand, throwing Neil’s glove at his chest, and staring him dead in the eyes as he says, “No, you are an idiot.”
And Kevin not seeming to notice the moment they just had as he asks Neil “How stupid are you? You are lucky you didn’t break your hand.”
Author’s Note: I decided to write this to celebrate the trailer of American Assassin coming out and it was a fucking amazing trailer. Dyl looked so good. oml. I want to thank like all my friends for encouraging me that this is good! I wanna thank @dumbass-stilinski for looking it over, helping me with some parts, and just being amazing all around. You da best babe. I hope you guys enjoy!!
Collab with the incredibly awesome @texting-bangtanbts
Sweat dripped off your face, occasionally mingling with a tear
as the two droplets mixed together and left tracks on your face. The gym was
essentially empty, especially considering it was almost midnight, aside from
the employees and the one middle aged man on the opposite side of the room. You
were lucky that this particular gym stayed open until midnight on the weekends.
Lena cast a concerned glance your way every ten minutes or so, or rather
whenever she looked up from her paperwork at the front desk. You had been there
for several hours, stopping only when you absolutely needed water or a rest,
and the young woman was beginning to worry for you. The music was turned down
low, a soft hum, overpowered by the satisfying thud of your gloves against the
leather bag hanging in front of you. Jab, cross, uppercut, hook,
hook, uppercut. You
chanted in your head repeatedly, your body following through the motions as you
repeatedly punched the bag in front of you. The massive black bag swung
slightly from the power with which you hit it, and you became so focused on
beating the shit out of it that you stopped paying attention to anyone and
anything around you.
How could you be so stupid? Jab, cross, uppercut, hook, hook, uppercut. How
could he be so stupid? Jab, cross,
uppercut, hook, hook, uppercut. The events from earlier that day flashed
and swirled behind your eyes, reminding you of the text messages that started
it all. The way that he had completely disregarded how you would feel. Gritting
your teeth, you swung at the bag harder, panting with effort. With a jolt, the
bag swung backwards from the force of your hit, and you reached forward to grab
it, resting your sweaty forehead against the leather and closing your eyes to
take a breath. You took several shallow breaths, swallowing thickly to
take in more air. There was absolutely no point in being angry. Even after
years of being friends, Taehyung still couldn’t figure out that you liked him.
You thought that by this point it would be obvious, considering every time he
went on a date or talked about another girl you got a bit jealous. It was
childish yes, but you couldn’t believe he still hadn’t figured it out.
A fresh wave of anger
rolled over you as you remembered what he had said this time. “Princess
syndrome” he had called it. Ignoring the protests from your legs and arms, you
let go of the bag and sank back into your stance, rolling your neck and
shoulders as you got ready to start your next round of punches. You took a deep
breath before resuming your assault of the leather bag in front of you, brows
furrowing in concentration, knuckles rubbing against the insides of the gloves
despite wearing wraps.
“I didn’t know you boxed.” A deep voice spoke, startling you
slightly as you went to deliver a cross. You chuckled dryly at his comment.
“I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me Taehyung.” You replied,
a hint of bitterness lacing your words. If he noticed it, he didn’t say
anything. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him standing there, arms
crossed as he watched you. Damn him. Why the hell did he always have to look so
fucking attractive? You were supposed to be mad at him and then he shows up
looking like a damn model. Shaking your head at your own thoughts, you
delivered a particularly strong hook to the punching bag in front of you, the
sound music to your ears. “How’d you find me anyway? I doubt you did it by
Taehyung clenched his jaw ignoring the obvious jab at him,
gritting his teeth before answering.
“Jimin.” Was all the boy said, his eyes locked on your figure as
you landed blow after blow on the bag in front of you. You looked tired, not
just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. He could see it by the
way your shoulders seemed to sag more and more after each punch.
“Bastard.” You muttered, cursing your other best friend under
your breath between pants.
“Why did he know and not me?” Taehyung asked, failing to hide
the slight edge in his voice. As if he realized how his question sounded he
added quickly, “Or the rest of the boys for that matter.” You grinned to
yourself, recalling how Jimin had discovered that you were a boxer. Grabbing
the swinging leather bag, you smirked at the boy beside you.
“Who else do you think taught him?” You quirked your eyebrow
teasingly, momentarily forgetting you were mad at the boy next to you. Taehyung’s
eyebrows raised in surprise, recalling how Jimin had decided to try boxing
before their Danger MV. Something about a more accurate portrayal. Even after
the video was done, he had kept up with it. The others had always assumed it
was simply because he liked it, but now Taehyung realized that it was because of
you. It was simply a bonding activity with one of your best friends.
Staring at the boy in front of you, you finally took a moment to
really take in his appearance. He was wearing a beanie, something that you felt
should be illegal, and was dressed in his usual model-esque fashion. Clenching
your jaw, you stopped yourself. You were mad at him, you reminded yourself.
Eyes hardening, you angled your body back toward the bag and were readying
yourself to punch again when a large hand grabbed your wrist stopping the
motion of your arm. Your eyes trailed from the soft hand that had your wrist
firmly in its grip, up to the brown eyes you had come to care for so much. Your
lips parted slightly in shock at the situation you had found yourself in.
“Can we talk?” He asked you sincerely, his eyes searching yours
for answers. You bit the inside of your cheek before you pulled your wrist from
his hold, him easily letting you go.
“What’s there to talk about Tae?” You asked him, not meeting his
eyes as you undid removed your hand from his grip, pulling your arms into your
“Y/N, come on. We need to talk about what happened in the Group
Chat today.” Taehyung said, making no move to stop you again as you returned to
your punching combination.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” You replied shrugging at his
words as you delivered a solid right hook to the bag.
“You blowing up at me is nothing to you?” Taehyung scoffed in
disbelief. You tensed and shot him a glare.
“That’s not what I said.” You grit out, eyes blazing as fresh
waves of anger and jealousy rolled over you. Taehyung scoffed again, crossing
his arms and raising an eyebrow at you.
“Oh really? Because that’s what it sounds like you said.” His
words snapped something inside of you. With a frustrated and guttural groan,
you slammed your fist into the bag in front of you. Taehyung stiffened in surprise
at your actions, you had never seemed this angry, or violent for that matter,
“That’s just it! You never fucking hear what I say!” You glared
at the boy in front of you, your E/C eyes meeting his warm brown ones, the fire
slowly freezing over and turning your glare cold. Not waiting for a reply you
spun on your heel and stalked over to the bench where your bag sat, unstrapping
the leather boxing gloves and throwing them on the ground.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Taehyung threw his hands
in the air exasperated, following you over to the bench, an irritated
expression gracing his usually jubilant features. You rolled your eyes at his
“Oh! And let’s not forget what you said to me. ‘Princess
syndrome’ I believe is what you called it, oh and petty and stupid too.” You
sneered, reaching down to grab your previously discarded gloves and throw them
inside your gym bag.
“Hey! You blew up at me for no reason first. Remember?” Taehyung
retorted, his deep voice not holding any of its usual warmth. You froze at his
words. Did he really have no idea why you reacted the way that you did?
“You really don’t get it… do you.” You mumbled, the break in
your voice barely audible as you gingerly ran your fingers over your raw and
reddened knuckles, turning to face him. Despite being wrapped, your several hour-long
stint with the punching bag had left the tops of your knuckles red and raw, and
a few of them were bleeding slightly. In hind sight, you probably shouldn’t have
spent the first half an hour with the bag sans gloves, but you were in such an
emotional rage that you didn’t care at the time.
“Damn it Y/N!” Taehyung slapped his hand against the wall next
to him, causing you to jump slightly. He looked down at you, his height
advantage, although small, making him even more intimidating. His eyes were
blazing in anger and annoyance, but upon seeing you flinch they immediately
softened. Dropping his hand, he followed your eyes to your knuckles, swearing
under his breath. He reached for your hand slowly, but you drew your hands back
into your chest.
“Don’t.” You told him softly, still not meeting his eyes as you
slowly began to unwrap your fists. The anger he had felt previously now mingled
with the feeling of hurt that had blossomed inside of him. First you hadn’t
told him about what was obviously a large part of your life, and now you wouldn’t
even let him help you.
“Why? What the hell did I do? Huh Y/N? What did I do?” Taehyung
fired off his questions at you, his voice rising with each statement. You
glared at him eyes blazing.
“You really don’t know?” You asked him, your voice barely a whisper.
Although if you listened closely, you would be able to hear the note of sorrow
that was buried beneath your words. Taehyung looked at you bewildered.
“If I knew, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!” He exclaimed,
running his hand through his light brown hair in frustration. You looked at the
boy in front of you. Even when he was angry he was undeniably beautiful. From his
hair to his boxy smile that you adored so much. To the times that the two of
you sat on the couch for hours binge-watching Anime. To the times that he had
come to tell you all about a date that he went on. He was clueless about how
much you cared about him. He had no idea how much it hurt when he ranted and
raved about a date, how whenever he talked about how hot a girl was you would
look her up on social media and compare yourself. How it felt like a knife in
your chest whenever he came home from a date with a huge smile on his face.
“Why did I have to fall in love with an idiot?” You mumbled to
yourself, not noticing the way that Taehyung’s shoulders tensed at your words.
As soon as you realized that you had said your thoughts out loud your fingers
stopped idly unwrapping your wrists and your eyes snapped up to meet his. The
two of you stood wide-eyed and frozen for a moment before anyone spoke.
“What did you say?” Tae stuttered, his husky voice wavering in
shock. You shook your head rapidly.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t get hurt anymore. I fucking can’t Tae.”
You responded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He knew. He fucking knew. Your friendship was
over. The two of you stood staring at each other for a moment in silence before
Taehyung turned around and walked away. Your eyes glazed over in tears and you
sank down to the floor, forgetting about the rawness of your knuckles and your half-undone
wraps, drawing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You
took shaky breaths as you sat on the gym floor. Your skin was salty with dried
sweat and your face was now streaked with tears as your shoulders shook,
heaving with each sob.
Without warning, someone gently took your half-unwrapped fist in
their hand and continued to unwrap it. At first you assumed it was Lena, but
the hands were too large, and far too warm to belong to your friend. Your spine
stiffened and you slowly removed your head from its place nestled between your
knees. Taehyung was crouched in front of you, gingerly unwrapping your fist,
his gaze trained intently on your raw knuckles. As the wrap dropped to the
floor, you watched mesmerized as the boy in front of you reached beside him to
grab the wet towel he had brought over and sat on the bench, using it to dab
softly at the raw skin.
The two of you sat in silence as he cleaned and wrapped your
knuckles with a roll of gauze he must have gotten from the front desk. After
securing the wrapping on your right fist he brought your hand up to his lips
and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your hand. You stared at Taehyung, your
mouth dropping open slightly. He smiled his boxy smile, the one that you loved
so much, at your expression.
“Why did I have to fall in love with an idiot?” He asked you
softly glancing down at your now bandaged fists pointedly. You opened and
closed your mouth at his words, as Taehyung’s eyes were trained on you.
“I…” You trailed off, “I thought you left.” You admitted pulling
your hand up to wipe the streaks of tears from your cheek. Taehyung softly
grabbed your hand, moving it to the side before he used his large hand to cup
the side of your face, thumb wiping away a stray tear.
“I’m sorry for what I said.” He muttered softly to you as you unconsciously
leaned into his palm. You gave him a half smile.
“I’m sorry I blew up at you…” Your voice trailed off as you bit
your lip trying to regain control of your emotions. Taking a shaky breath, you
looked over Taehyung’s shoulder, focusing your gaze on the one of the punching
bags suspended over the gym floor. “Every time you talk about a date, or a girl,
it felt like someone was punching me in the chest. I would compare myself every
chance I got, trying to understand what was so great about them.” You chucked
dryly, shaking your head at yourself, “I know its petty and stupid.”
“Y/N, I’m so sorry that I didn’t say anything to you earlier.
Fuck, I’m sorry that I didn’t notice how upset you got whenever I talked about
a date.” The deep voice of the boy in front of you drew your eyes back to him.
He glanced down at your hands shaking his head in disappointment and disgust. “And
now you’re hurt because I was a dick and you decided to take out all of your
emotions on a punching bag.” You quirked the corner of your lips at his words.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I box.” You said sheepishly.
Tae looked at you in disbelief, your eyes widening as he threw back his head
“How about we make it up to each other.” He suggested, a soft
smile overtaking his features, watching you intently as he spoke, “Over dinner?
Tonight?” You bit your lip as you stared at the boy you loved, his smile
growing at your answer.
“It’s a date.”
So this is the first imagine that I’ve ever written and posted somewhere so I hope you all enjoy it. And a huge huge thank you to the talented @texting-bangtanbts for making the awesome texts!
It’s funny watching TV documentaries of animals being dissected because the people dissecting the animals always wear protective gear and sometimes even full body suits but I know if you put a bunch of VC folks in a room with a dead elephant we’d all be knee deep in its guts wearing nothing but jeans and maybe latex gloves.
A/N: I finally have enough chapters of this finished so that I can start posting. I will be posting once a week and I’ll try and stick to mondays, but I can’t guarantee anything. I need to thank my beta @thorne93 for still keeping up with me, you are awesome and I would be thoroughly lost without you. Feedback is highly appreciated since I practically live for the stuff.
This story is going to be a very bumpy ride, with a lot of angst, pretty much in most chapters. The reader is in an abusive relationship. I will warn properly for each chapter, and do my best to tag it properly as well. But if you are easily triggered, this might not be a series for you.
This is also an AU. Dean is a doctor, Sam is a lawyer.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Alex (OMC mentioned)
Wanings: Mentions of abuse, low self esteem, language, Dean being a doctor (yes that’s a warning)
You were sitting in the emergency room, one arm carefully cradled in the other, wondering if it was the third or fourth time you had broken that same arm. You could hardly feel the physical pain of it anymore, and on the inside… you were just numb.
You sat there and looked around the near empty room, some informative posters on the walls, some pamphlets on a stand in the corner, several year old magazine littering the few tables, and a half dead plant near the entrance. You had gotten pretty familiar with this room over the past few years, and you imagined that at some point you would get immune to the smell of disinfectant, and the deafening quiet in the room… but no. The smell still made you queasy, and you had read through all of the magazines at least twice.
As you sat there and waited, like you had done so many times before, you wondered how your life had come to this. After you graduated high school, you had decided to take a year off before you started college so that your boyfriend, Alexander, could move with you to wherever you wanted to study. He had gotten an internship at his dad’s construction company that was set to start right after graduation, but he promised that after that year, he would come with you wherever you wanted to go. You made your peace with that and started your own job hunt.
Bellamy doesn’t believe in any higher power, not really. He also doesn’t believe in fate, or coincidence, or any of those other things that people like to blame random happenings on.
But he will admit that if he did actually believe in any of those things, he would be fully convinced that they were laughing at his misfortune at this very minute which. Honestly, he would be too if not for the stab wound in his side. Stab wounds apparently make the whole laughing thing kind of difficult. Who’d’ve known.
“Would you just hold still?” Clarke huffs as she tries to clean the wound.
“And your bedside manner sucks, princess.”
She pinches the soft skin on the inside of his bicep and he yelps, glaring at her balefully.
It’s not like he wants to be here, sitting on the uncomfortable examination table in the ER, shirt off, and paper crinkling noisily beneath him each time he so much as breathes. No one ever wants to be in the ER, leaking blood all over the place because they were fucking stabbed in a mugging gone wrong, not even if the opportunity lends itself to a bout of truly morbid humour.
Just this morning he was telling his sophomores about the Ides of March and now here he is, living his own version of it. Again, he would be laughing except- stab wound.
Clarke is bent over his side, wisps of blonde hair escaping her braid and looking platinum in the harsh fluorescent hospital lighting. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she goes over the cut with antiseptic, and he hisses once more.
“That hurts,” he grunts, and then flinches again when she goes back in with another piece of gauze. Most of the bleeding has stopped, but there’s still a lazy trickle that she has to keep wiping up intermittently.
1,2,3 & 16 with Bucky Thank you love, and sorry for the other one xD
2. “You save everyone, but who saves you?”- Bucky Barnes
After moving to the Avengers compound as the teams doctor, always being there to check up on them after missions, fix any injuries and on a couple of occasions saving their lives, you’d fallen hard for a certain metal armed super soldier, and lucky enough for you, he’d fallen just as hard.
“Steve, what did I tell you about jumping out of planes without a parachute?” You sighed, getting up from your desk as the blond super soldier limped in, held up by your annoyed looking boyfriend.
“Okay, but technically-” He started, silenced by both you and Bucky narrowing your eyes at him, “Fine…” He muttered, hopping up onto your table with a wince.
Snapping on a pair of gloves, you set about examining all of his newly acquired injuries. Prodding gently at his ribs, you heard him hiss above you.
“Well, this seems to be where most of the damage is…” You murmured, unrolling some bandage, “Luckily for you, with your advanced healing, you should be fine in a day or two. Just take those specially made painkillers Bruce made, and make sure to rest up.” You instructed him, making sure not to wrap the bandage too tight as to not restrict air flow.
“Thanks Doc.” Steve smiled sheepishly, pressing the ice pack you handed him gently to his ribs.
“It’s what I’m here for, just quit doing stupid shit.” You smirked, throwing your gloves away.
“I’ll try my best.” He smiled, ruffling your hair before leaving the room.
“So, how’d the mission go? Other than that idiot hurting himself again?” You murmured to Bucky, not looking up as you washed your hands.
Sighing, your brown haired boyfriend hopped up on your desk, ignoring the disapproving look you sent him. “It was… a mission…” He muttered, running a hand through his hair.
“That bad, huh?” You asked sympathetically, linking your fingers with his.
“Yep.” He sighed, rolling his neck before looking down at you, “Glad to be home though. Saving the world is a tiring business.” He smiled tiredly, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.
“You save everyone,” You whispered against his lips, letting your hand rest against his cheek, “But who saves you?”
“You do.” He murmured, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours, “Everyday.”
The sound of glass shattering makes
you jump and turn around in alarm. A few
feet behind you one of your rookie techs is standing near a lab bench behind
you, staring in shock at the broken glass at her feet. In an instant you know what it is; the mini
habitat you’d constructed in the lab to mimic the conditions of the last planet
the Enterprise had visited. Your team,
led by you and overseen by Commander Spock himself, had been tasked with studying
the various flora and fauna the team had retrieved from the surface of the
planet. This particular terrarium had contained
the beginnings of a fruit bearing bush, one that the commander had been
particularly interested in for its healing properties. The only sample had been in that tank. Which was in pieces, on the hard floor of
Okay so long story short: today at the cycling competition I was directing the traffic for, a moose tackled one of the cyclists into a ditch (justfinnishthings.jpg). Because grav is a filthy enabler, I now have 500+ words of a road cycling fic in the works, because the magic words Bucky in spandex were uttered. It’s gonna be posted when I eventually get it finished, but here’s a terrible, terrible example of what I use my perfectly good Sunday evenings for:
Sam and Steve stare a little. 107 pulls off his scuffed, slightly cracked helmet and throws it towards the moose, making it hoof it back to the forest. He has an incredibly good aim. Steve is a little impressed.
107 is also insanely pretty under that helmet: sweaty dark hair on a French braid, wild and furious grey eyes, a straight nose and an angry, wide mouth. Steve takes it in, his gaze sliding slowly down at the very, very clingy spandex suit and the lean body under it, and suddenly not getting hard in his bike shorts is really damn difficult.
107 screeches as he notices the road rash on his arm: a mess of bloody scrapes, mangling the tattoos on his forearm. “What the fucking fuck,” 107 screams in baffled fury, ripping his gloves off and throwing them to the direction the moose went, too. “Come back you fucking glorified forest cow, I will turn you into a fucking fur coat! Do you know how much this tattoo cost, you motherfucking flea nest!”
Sam makes a weird, winded noise, like he’s choking on something. Steve can’t stop staring at the furious, injured man spewing profanities at forest animals while wearing the colors of the bisexual flag on his torso, and a huge logo of Barton’s Bi&Cycle across his chest.
Steve’s pretty sure he’s a little in love.
“Steve!” Sam hisses as he scuttles to Steve’s side, stuffing his camera into the bag swinging on his shoulder. “The dude just collided with a goddamn moose, don’t just stand there making gooey eyes at him but take him to the medic, damn it.”
“Yeah,” Steve says, blinking, still slightly stunned by the moose of love Amor just launched his way.
A/N: This is based on that prompt, but it changed quite a bit along the way. I hope you like it anyway! P.S.: my medical knowledge is nonexistent, sorry for the inaccuracies.
1. The one with the wine glass
You fell for the first time immediately after coming out of
your mother’s womb. The doctor’s hands had slipped and you’d been dropped on
the cold hospital floor. That first incident had only been the premise of what
would become your entire life.
It was what you had come to know as a typical night. The city was wet from the earlier rains, causing a moonlit highlight on the bricks and asphalt. It also kicked up an unpleasant stench, but one you had grown familiar with in all of your years of living here.
“Alright, kiddies. Time to work,” a burly man clapped his gloved hands together before throwing open the back door of the truck.
Barrels and barrels full of bootleg lined the inside. Thousands of dollars of product for the family to profit from, brought over on a meat truck they used frequently to disguise their hauls. But from where? The shipping yard, you guessed. Now if you could just figure out when it docked…
“What are you thinking about?” the boy next to you asked.
You hadn’t realized he’d been watching you. He scratched his hair underneath his cap before straightening it with a smile. Yoosung, or ‘Lucky’ as he was known, was always smiling. He seemed to practically skip instead of walk. Not the typical mafioso wannabe. But neither were you. In any case, he’s the closest thing you had to a friend right now. And you needed that.
“That it’s cold as shit and I wanna get this over with,” you huffed.
Lucky and some of the other boys popped up into the truck. They all shifted the barrels in their spots as if to weigh the contents before proceeding to move them. They had to roll a few of them down before you could start to dolly the liquor inside the small storage warehouse.
“Attaboy,” the driver said gruffly and condescendingly. His wide hand pat one of them on the back as they wheeled a barrel away.
“Turn the lights off, you nitwit,” the beautiful brunette, your capo-Jaehee, seethed as her heels clicked around the side of the truck and stopped in front of the driver.
“S-Sorry, right,” he nodded before scrambling to the front to turn the headlights dim.
“This is the last job for tonight, so make it snappy,” she played with her gloved hands, seemingly annoyed, “well go on!” she urged you.
You picked up the pace and wheeled the barrel Yoosung placed on the dolly for you. A single one wasn’t too heavy, but do 5 or 6 in a row and boy were you feeling it. Towards the end of the truck you felt beads of sweat on the back of your neck.
“What’s her deal tonight?” one of the boys whispered as you all worked to shift the hooch inside the storage room.
You glanced back to see Jaehee and the driver. It looked like she was scolding him, all while gesturing to the truck.
“Probably in a rush to get to the club to see ‘Pretty Boy’ sing his little heart out so she can drop her panties,” one of the guys joked and pretended to sing into a mic dramatically.
“Shut the fuck up, idiot,” another one smacked him in the back of the head, “if I have to listen to any more of your stupid jokes tonight I’m gunna stuff ya in one of these damn barrels.”
“Alright, alright, lay off,” he rubbed his head with a sour face, “I was only tryin'a lighten the mood.”
A flash of headlights washed over you before being turned off. You all stopped to watch a black car pull up by the truck. You and Yoosung both paused, gripping your dollies and watching as a man in a brown trench coat stepped out and straightened his collar. Bits of red hair peeked from his hat and a serious expression plagued his face.
“Shit, what’s he doing here?” one of the guys whistled menacingly.
Though you had only seen him a handful of times, you knew who it was. Saeyoung, the Underboss. Or as people liked to call him-‘The Mad Hatter.’ You believed him responsible for countless hits over the years. And now you all stood to watch, though some of the outfit stayed back in the warehouse, exchanging quiet glances and pretending to work.
“It’s a wonderful night, isn’t it?” Saeyoung and his two body guards met Jaehee and the driver.
“It’s a bit too cold if you ask me,” Jaehee replied.
“Ah, but it’s a clear night,” he looked up to the sky, “star, after star, after star. An endless void. If you look long and hard enough you can get lost in it. How many do you think there are?”
He returned his gaze to the two of them, his solemn face unchanging. Neither of them spoke.
“I asked you a question,” he turned to the large man, “how many do you think there are?”
“Stars? I-uh…” you could almost see the man begin to sweat.
“You can count, can’t you?”
“Well ya, but I-I don’t know-“
“Of course you don’t. There are too many up there. Maybe a simpler question, then? Since you can count and all..how many barrels am I missing from this truck?” he gestured to the meat truck.
“Missing?” his big belly heaved with his now labored breathing.
Saeyoung’s fist swung into the mans gut and sent him coughing to his knees.
“Now, now. You’re good with numbers, remember? I’ll give you a second to count them in your head before telling me. And you’d better tell me. Or things are only going to get worse for you.”
The man started to sob at Saeyoung’s feet, “I don’t know nothin’ about missing barrels I swear on my kids life,” he pleaded.
“I don’t like liars,” Saeyoung grabbed the mans hand and pulled the glove off, “shall we count together? Maybe that will help.”
He singled out the mans pointer finger, while the driver looked up to Saeyoung’s face in terror. His wet eyes were pleading.
“One…” Saeyoung bent the finger back in a swift motion. The snap of bone was like a dry twig breaking under your boot.
The cry in pain filled the empty street and the body guards stuffed the man’s mouth with a cloth before holding him in place on his knees. He struggled for a moment but quickly admitted defeat.
“Two,” another snap of his middle finger, “three…”
Even with the cloth to muffle, you could hear the pain bellowing from his chest. Tears streamed down his stubble-heavy face and his brow pinched together in agony. It took everything in you not to stop him. The cold metal of the gun on your thigh had never been more apparent.
“Four,” the pinky was the last one and it broke easily, “four barrels. Now do you remember?”
He let the mans hand fall before stepping back. The cloth was pulled from his mouth before shoving him forward into the damp asphalt. Shaking and nodding at Saeyoung’s feet, his right hand was a mangled mess now.
“Good, I thought so. Now you won’t forget that number,” he tossed the glove at the mans face, “get out of my sight.”
With his good hand he palmed the glove and clambered to his feet all while stifling sobs. Wobbling slightly and almost running into Jaehee in the process he started to walk fast in the opposite direction down the silent street.
“Hm…I changed my mind,” Saeyoung reached into his coat and pulled a pistol to aim at the man.
The truck blocked your view but the sound of the shot and the thud that followed were telling enough. Your legs were suddenly jello and a pair of hands held you up.
“Keep it together,” Yoosung whispered as he grabbed you. You were just noticing his eyes had glassed over slightly and there was an indent where he must have bitten his lip.
All you could think about were flashes of Saeyoung’s face as he held a gun to your head. ‘Lemme show you what we do to rats and pigs,’ he’d say, his sadistic grin being the last thing you see before he squeezed on it.
“Someone clean that up,” Saeyoung gestured to the body before turning to one of the men, “you, get this truck out of here.”
He handed a wad of cash to Jaehee, explaining that she was to deliver it to the man’s wife. It was to help her get by, at least for a little while, without a husband.
He took long striding steps back to the car. His gloved hand opened the door and he turned to you with a smile before getting in.
“Hey, Lucky! Both’a you, be in the wind before the bull arrives, huh?” he waved and got into the back seat.
The bit of food in your stomach was trying to make it’s way up but you took some sharp breaths to calm your nerves as the car drove away. No wonder there wasn’t a soul at the station willing to try and infiltrate this syndicate. They all either laughed at you or turned a cold shoulder when you brought it up. Not even the feds were willing to acknowledge this level of organized crime was going on. Businesses and citizens alike accepted that this was just the way things were. And here you were, a cop gone under cover. A rat. A bull. The regret was like a thick syrup that clung to you. This was the first time you realized you were probably going to die. But there was no turning back now.
“Come on, there’s still a bit of work to do…” Yoosung pat you on the back with a solemn face. It was the first time you’d seen him not smiling.