⊶Keep Quiet⊷( Hoodie x Reader - SoulmateAU!) ON HOLD

⊶ Chapter Nineteen ⊷

hello! i'm back from the dead with an update, yay? end of the chapter is pretty confusing but honestly can't find another way to describe it so if anything needs to be made clear just hmu~

quick update on life is that ive been plagued with prelims- sadly they wont be over until some time in january. so i honestly can't tell when the next update will be. 

but all i can say is that there will be a special christmas oneshot. tell me ur ideas :) https://www.quotev.com/quiz/12334818/choose-the-creep-100-follower-christmas-special

see ya in the next chapter~

⊶⊗⊷

The fireplace had been lit, god knows how they managed to do it drunk out their minds but who were you to judge? The flames crackled as they crawled their way further and further up the charred bricks of the chimney. Swirling the amber liquid in your glass you took another sip the liquor didn't soothe you, your shaky hands making the glass clink against your teeth.

As the fire roared on you expected the smell of burning wood to overtake the room. But the fire couldn't be blamed for the thick smoke that clung to the room, the reason for that was lovely old Tim. Reclining on an aged armchair he sat with a lit cigarette, the crystal ashtray next to him already filled to the brim. Obviously, he didn't care much for his lungs shrivelled up lungs- or basic cleanliness for that matter.

Must have other things on his mind.

Like the whole ass human being they kidnapped-

The gun pocked against you a painful reminder of your options here.

Taking another sip you looked around the room trying to familiarise yourself with the exits if you needed to make a run for it. The ceilings were high and windows tall and narrow, it looked old. Boards covered portions of the broken windows in a halfhearted attempt to fix up the place. Still, the cold night air crept in and wiped past you only to be engulfed by the hungry flames. There weren't any curtains.

In front of the worn-down couch you sat on, was a coffee table scattered across it were various papers stapled together, an empty Pringles tube, magazines, newspapers and coasters (even though the empty mug sat rather proudly on top of a stack of tabloids). Honestly, it was surprising you could still see the wood of the coffee table, how much junk did they have? That's not even talking about the sad little table next to Tim's armchair. Along with the overflowing ashtray the table was littered with cigarette packets and scratch cards..? Why would you keep scratch cards around...? Who in their right mind-

They kill people. They probably don't have a voice of reason.

Standing tall above the litter that covered the table was a simple lamp, the only other light source in the room other than the fire. There was a broken light above you, swinging threateningly. The light didn't look that heavy, had someone tried to pull it off the ceiling, how else could it hang like that... Did people casually rip lights from the sockets around here? Honestly, it wouldn't surprise you at this point.

This house was a fucking nightmare.

Photos were hung up on the wall the glass clouded making them ineligible. But hey. The cushions on the couch were really fucking comfy. They had little intricate stitching on them. Maybe you could steal one. Sure whenever you hit them a cloud of smoke came out- but just look at those dainty little flowers!

"(Y/N)" Snapping back to reality you watched as the man took another drag from the cancer stick.

"...Yes..?" For fuck's sake, your voice was as shaky as your hands.