#[echoes of time] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slttygeto · 26 days ago

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༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 07: off the table

preview: ". . . Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that. . ."

content warning: smut! dirty talk, hair pulling, fingering, handjobs, pronebone!! (she's a filthy one), mention of abandonment issues.

word count: 5k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa@bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: the google doc file for this fanfic has officially reached 100 pages woohoooo 🥳🩷 im actually very excited because this is where the story picks up and starts to get a little saucyyyy 😋🙌🏻btw, ex boyfriend reveal!! had to include the fan favorite, the fandom's boyfriend: mitsuya takashi himself🙂‍↕️and sorry to disappoint yall, chifuyu is just our friend, he doesn't wanna get in our pants. anywayyy can't wait for the next chapter hehe🥰

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

“Chifuyu,” you sound out of breath. Hair disheveled and such choice of clothing confirms to the man that you hadn’t intended for anyone to visit you this time of the night. You stare back at the man, hair now dyed jet black and sporting a very fancy suit, and it dawns on you how long you haven’t seen him.

An entire decade.

Chifuyu didn’t intend for the two of you to separate this way, but clearly he had no choice but to keep you away from Toman’s nasty business (something Hanma failed to do). When he first heard that you were going to move away for your studies, he was sad and the two of you cried as you hugged at the train station with your boyfriend by your side. He remembers the man you used to date and feels his heart sink.

“Can we talk?”

What’s up with men from your past showing up at your door? Not that you mind Chifuyu’s presence, a part of you was still mad that he had lied for all these years about his whereabouts. He doesn’t have to tell you for you to figure it out, the way he fiddles with his thumbs and avoids your eyes as you lead him inside says it all.

“So?”

“What are you doing?” Chifuyu jumps straight to the point, and you’re a bit taken aback by how alarmed he sounds. “With Hanma what are you– this isn’t right, you know that?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you come here to lecture me? It’s been 10 years, Chifuyu!” you cross your arms over your chest, heat rising to your face. “You lied about where you were and you lied about being with Toman–”

“For a good cause!” Chifuyu’s volume rises and you scoff. “You had to stay away from Toman’s business.”

“Why does everyone think it’s okay for them to decide how I get to live my life?” you question bitterly and Chifuyu’s lips are sealed shut. “I mean really–first Ran and Rindou, then Hanma comes back and he’s acting all mysterious and now you?”

“You can get hurt.”

“I don’t care.” You spit out venomously. “You have no idea how isolating it feels to watch everyone around you distance themselves from you thinking it will protect you. All it did was make me scared to try to make friends.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t just Chifuyu or your brothers or even Hanma that you were mad about. Not their absence, or their lies or their futile attempts to shelter you from a familiar life of crime and violence –you were bitter about where you had ended up, what you could’ve had with your previous lover that went so badly even you couldn’t recover from it.

When you moved away for your studies, your relationship with your brothers had already been strained, broken even. They had betrayed your trust in irreconcilable ways, so you turned to the one person you loved so much. You loved and cherished him, you were ready to offer up your heart to him as he whispered promises of a happy family in the near future, with a big house and a pretty garden where you'd water the plants and harvest some vegetables. Then he’d come home and he would show you the latest piece of clothing he had designed for you. You’d wear it happily and show it off to him as he gave you a look mixed with adoration and lust. He promised that he would fill your tummy to the brim, that he would fuck a baby into you as many times as you wanted. It was a shared dream of yours.

Perhaps it was too good to be true.

That man switched up on you overnight–because of a project that had been consuming him for a month straight, he wasn’t able to spend time with you anymore. Becoming a fashion designer was everything to Mitsuya Takashi. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to let anything hold him back even if it was a partner.

You had been in a long, six year relationship when Mitsuya started to put more distance between the two of you, prioritizing his projects over date nights and coming home very late at night after events and gatherings. And every time you tried to talk to him about it–about your relationship–you were met with nothing but a look of exhaustion and disdain. The warmth he once had for you was gone and was soon replaced by a cold, distant look. His touch no longer lingered against your skin during the early hours of the morning, sex had become a chore to the same man who would spend hours making love to you under the moonlight.

That’s when you realized that perhaps, it was time to part ways.

It wasn’t easy at all–you cried in his arms and he apologized for not being able to keep his promise of the perfect family the two of you were once eager to have. And before the two of you could part ways, you watched as the man reached for his neck to unclasp the jewelry wrapped around it. Stepping behind you, he wrapped the necklace around your neck and the two of you shared one last warm look, filled with the love you will always have for one another.

“Keep this. Maybe we’ll meet again one day.”

One day turned into six years of not seeing the lavender haired man. Six years of praying and hoping for something, anything. To no avail. You hadn’t even heard of him on the news, nor were you able to find any of his works anywhere and it broke your heart at the thought of him moving out of the country completely. To think that he needed to change his entourage in order to see some growth–you hope that you weren’t the type of girlfriend to try to grab his wings and pin him to the ground.

Chifuyu had been watching you this whole time. He had been watching your every move, ensuring your safety without having to approach you or so much as get out of his car. He knew of your breakup with Mitsuya, and all he could think of was the last conversation you had with him before moving away for your studies.

“I can’t wait to marry him,” there was a slight blush to your cheeks. Mitsuya had really been the boyfriend to you and Chifuyu could feel the love pouring out of you. “He’ll be such a good dad.”

To say that you were broken after the relationship had ended was an understatement. You didn’t go to work for a week.

But Chifuyu couldn’t approach you still–and all he could do was watch and pray that you take care of yourself and find a way to lift yourself back up.

So it’s safe to say that when Chifuyu heard that Hanma found you, he was enraged. Toman was used to Chifuyu’s calm and collected demeanor–a false facade he had learned to put up in order to get on Kisaki’s good side which helped him a lot. As he approached the man’s office, he could hear a second man’s voice and quickly recognized it to be Hanma’s.

“So what is this about?” Chifuyu doesn’t care that he is interrupting something as he knocks. He waits for Kisaki to tell him to come in and pushes the door open. Hanma’s back is facing him as he sits on the chair and Chifuyu stands near the door with his hands behind his back.

“Kokonoi said that the report concerning his IT business is taking too long due to a bug in the system.” The dark haired man speaks in a monotone voice, his body unmoving. He’s clearly not happy to be here, but he has to do it for his job.

Chifuyu can’t see what’s happening from his position, but he notices that Hanma places a picture on Kisaki’s desk before leaning back in his chair.

“You found her?”

Her. It could be so many people–this girl Kisaki had been stalking, or maybe one of the strippers that had escaped Hanma’s club due to the poor treatment by nasty and rude customers. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the bomb that was about to drop.

“She’s back in Shinjuku.”

“(Name). What was her last name again?” Kisaki brings your picture closer to his face, inspecting and analyzing every feature on your face, down to the way you got dressed.

“Used to be Haitani. Changed it after her brothers got involved in some weird, shady business.”

Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, yet his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. The dark haired man was terrified that Hanma was after you just for fun, that his attempts at protecting you would fail now that the tall, tattooed man was back in your life.

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki puts the picture away and starts to rummage through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

No no no–Chifuyu can’t let that happen. He can’t and won’t let anyone hurt you. His fists clench on his sides, body tensing up. Then he notices. Hanma had gone eerily silent instead of doing his usual, insane laugh.

Kisaki seems to realize the same thing. Sensing the tall man’s silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes were devoid of any playfulness, and Tetta doesn’t miss the way his jaw clenches.

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Chifuyu still wasn’t able to trust him. It had never been easy to do so, a man as dangerous as Hanma was as unpredictable as a wild card in the deck. Had his intentions been clear, Matsuno wouldn’t feel the need to watch your every move even closer since that day.

Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that.

Flustered and perhaps feeling as though he was being creepy, he looks away from your neck and watches as you cover yourself more with your robe. You noticed.

“It was to protect you.” Chifuyu’s voice is soft like butter. He doesn’t have it in him to argue with you, he doesn’t want to argue with you he just–

He misses you so much and it was driving him crazy that he held himself back for all these years, and all it took for Hanma was to see you once at a metro station and he was back in your life. It just wasn’t fair.

Losing Baji had taken a toll on Chifuyu’s mental and physical well being. You were worried about the boy and you voiced it out many times to Mitsuya when the two of you went out to get him a couple of snacks as well as some food for his cat.

It was that worry that made the two of you as close as ever even if your friendship was very short lived before you packed your things and moved away. Luckily enough, Takemichi was in the picture and you had nothing to worry about this time.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that everything Chifuyu has done was to protect you. Even if it meant hurting himself in the process.

“It’s dangerous, Toman.” He speaks lowly as he takes a seat on your couch. “It’s not like how it used to be.”

“I know.” you admit, voice as small as ever. Chifuyu doesn’t want to know how you found out, but he quickly realizes it has something to do with Hanma and sighs deeply.

“Did you ever think it would get this bad?” you ask, taking a seat next to the man who can only sigh and run a hand through his hair.

“I…would like to say no, but things have changed a lot. Mikey is different, people are different–money made them…disgusting.” You remember your first encounter with Hanma. The fancy clothes, expensive shoes and watches didn’t draw a smile on his face. He looked bored out of his mind, like he wanted something to happen in his life and the expression on his face when he realized that he had finally found you after so many years of not seeing you, felt like the first time that man had used his face muscles to smile.

So yeah, Toman was different.

The two of you sit in silence. It’s a comfortable one this time, like a silence between songs–you get to sit and process what you had just listened to and your brain is trying to make sense of everything all at once. But it doesn’t pain you, nor does it leave a heavy feeling behind. You sit there next to your friend from your teenage years and you don’t feel the need to pretend to be anything else. You can be yourself around Chifuyu, even after so many years.

“So,” Chifuyu is the first to break the silence, turning his head as he rests it on the couch. He stares at you with those eyes that mirror a winter sky. “Hanma Shuji, huh?”

Despite his disappointment and perhaps even anger, the man doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease you. You flush at the tone of his voice and look away, completely flustered.

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”

“Is he really that good?” he continues to tease you, narrowing his eyes at you when your jaw drops and you can’t hide that your face was in flames.

“Can we not! Yes, he’s good and we’re two adults having fun.”

“Yeah,” his eyes shift to the love bites on your skin and the state of your disheveled hair. “You’re having a lot of fun.

“Please shut up.” you sigh deeply as you sink on the couch. “He’s actually a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure he’s a pain in your ass–”

“Seriously!” you cover your face. “...I don’t care. As long as I get some action, I guess.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, he’s been less annoying lately,” Chifuyu admits. “Don’t get me wrong, he gets on everyone’s nerves–.” typical Hanma. “--but he’s been different lately.”

“Different?”

You can’t deny that this has piqued your curiosity. What Hanma was to you wasn’t the same to everyone else–you’ve known the man as a teenager and meeting him again as an adult, you realize you may have missed the most formative years of his life—the years that shaped him through struggles and hardships, leaving him the monotone, robotic, and emotionless man he is today.

Toman knew an entirely different version, so a small shift in his behavior is easily noticeable.

Chifuyu recalls an incident that happened three nights ago that really solidified to him that there might be something going on with the tall man. Hanma had walked inside the Toman headquarters all wet and disheveled. Not the kind that would leave you wondering if the criminal had sex. It had been pouring outside for hours on no end, and Chifuyu narrows his eyes when he sees Shuji’s wet clothes–however, he doesn’t seem annoyed. He calmly walks towards the front desk where he asks the receptionist (and his personal assistant when he is having a good day) where his bag of spare clothes was. The assistant, clearly taken aback, leads him towards a giant closet and hands him his bag.

“Thanks.” The tattooed man mutters to the assistant who stands there frozen and shocked.

Did Hanma just… thank him?

Even Chifuyu couldn’t believe his own eyes and ears.

“Yeah. A good type of different.” The dark haired male’s hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, a habit he couldn’t get rid of (not that you minded) then pushes himself off the couch.

“Well…I’m glad it didn’t go that bad.”

“It could’ve, had I not missed you so much.” You say in a small voice and Chifuyu’s heart breaks a little.

“Sorry…”

“Oh it’s fine, I’m used to people leaving.” You try to lighten up the mood, but Chifuyu can tell that this wasn’t a joke to you. The thought of people leaving you was terrifying, but you always managed to find a way to brush it off as nothing but an overreaction.

“I won’t lea–”

“Don’t.” A hand rests on Chifuyu’s shoulder, and all he can do is stare at you. He feels the small tremble in your hand, and he can read your mind. He knows what you mean.

You don’t want empty promises.

“Okay.” He whispers in return, resting his hand on top of yours. “I got it.”

—

Just how busy can a criminal’s life be in a city like Tokyo? Well, it depends. If you were to ask Chifuyu, he would tell you that it was very busy–hopping from one meeting to another, helping manage businesses and attending opening nights and events. Kisaki would say the same, although with the help of his assistant, it feels less hectic and suffocating. And the same goes for every man in Toman.

Everyone but a certain tall man.

Hanma’s specialty was torture. His skill relies on methodically, agonizingly breaking a person’s mind and body until they were reduced to an empty shell. He took pride in the way he unraveled them, a twisted thrill evident in his blown-out pupils—enjoying the process far more than any normal person ever would. So missions were a fun part of Shuji’s job.

Until they aren’t, and he has to request for Kisaki to push them back a day or two.

“What?” Kisaki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean you can’t do it today?”

“Exactly what it means.” Hanma says in a breathy voice, and Kisaki sighs at the end of the line.

“Do I even have to ask why?”

When the tall man laughs, Kisaki’s face twists with disgust. He recognizes that laugh, it was an indicator that Hanma had simply found something far more entertaining than his missions–which was rare to say the least. But he continues to laugh, before heaving out a long, content sigh.

“Oh man,” a tattooed hand brushes the skin of your exposed back, a small meek noise escapes your swollen lips at the touch. “Not sure if I can answer that.” The same tattooed hand then fists your hair and he pulls harshly until your neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle. You try to shoot him a glare, but he pushes his cock deeper and you find yourself biting down on your bottom lip to suppress your noises.

“Bye.” You hear Kisaki hanging up on the other line and look over your shoulder.

“You’re insufferable!” Shuji is amused by the glare you send him, tugging at your hair so that your back is now pressed against his chest.

“I get that often.” You hear the grin in his voice, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers hotly into it. After a beat of silence, Hanma’s hips slam against your ass and your jaw falls open.

“F-Fuck!” you cry out. Shuji’s free hand then goes around your body to grope your boobs, slapping them as he continues to fuck into you hard. Desperately, you dig your nails into his forearm for support and gasp when the hand travels down to your clit.

Your head now rests fully against his shoulder, body twitching and trembling as he continues to thrust into you while rubbing the sensitive bud.

Hanma loved seeing you like this. Not your usual, bratty self who refused to even glance his way–turning you into putty on his cock was something he took pride in, and he couldn’t deny that the more the two of you fucked, the more addicted he became.

A week into your agreement with him, and you had been bent over every surface of your apartment.

First was your couch. Hanma insisted that he wanted to replace the memory of him getting cockblocked by your cat with a nice one. You forgot that the man’s sheer strength was enough to send you reeling, and he wasn’t able to control himself as he snapped his hips against your ass cheeks until the couch had moved spots.

“S-Slow down–!” you tried to beg, powerless as he held your wrists behind your back and pushed your face into the cushion of the couch. Your pussy was squeezing him too tightly for him to think of anything but letting you milk him dry.

“Can’t do t-that doll.” hearing the small stutter in his voice has your stomach fluttering. His fingers dig into your skull as he pushes your face deeper into the couch, muffling any of your noises as he thrusts harder and deeper into you.

Your kitchen counter was next.

The small, crowded space of your kitchen was Hanma’s least favorite spot in your apartment. You shoot him yet another one of your signature glares as he voices his displeasure, and watch as amusement paints his features.

“Small ass kitchen you got here.”

“Not your first time being here.” You try to focus on the food you’re stirring in the pot, and not Hanma’s body towering over yours from behind.

“Anybody fucked ya here before?” His hands grip your waist, pinning you in place and the hand that’s not busy stirring the food grips his forearm.

“Yes Hanma. I am not a virgin.” But given the redness of your face, you might as well be one.

“Oh really? Who was it?”

“You don’t have to know!”

“I gotta know if he was good. Did he make you cum?” You gasp when his hand slides inside your pants, fingers grazing the tuft of pubic hair covered by your panties.

“I-I’m cooking–”

“Did he use his fingers like this?” You feel pathetic as your hand drops the wooden spoon to grip the kitchen counter, body bending forward when the rough pads of his fingers find your clit and start to rub it in circles. He moves further down, collecting some of your arousal before smearing it all over your sensitive bud.

“Stop talking.” You say through gritted teeth, but your hard exterior soon melts away when he pushes his middle and ring finger into your pussy. He doesn’t start slow, nor does he give you time to get used to the sheer size of him as he starts pistoning his fingers into you. Groaning at the feeling of your snug walls gripping his fingers, he buries his face in your neck and pushes you closer to him. You’re reeling at the pleasure, unable to muffle your noises and you would’ve melted to the ground had his arm not been wrapped so tightly around your middle.

As payback, you give him a handjob on your couch.

It’s not that often where you don’t stare at your sexual partners while pleasuring them, but eye contact with Hanma was intense. It felt too…nerve racking for the two of you. So you sit next to him, blanket draped over your laps as your spit covered hand grips his cock. You move it up and down, stroking in the same motion that has the man’s head thrown over the back of the couch and his jaw going slack. From the corner of your eye, you see his reddened cheeks and his furrowed eyebrows and squeeze your own thighs. You ignore the flutter in your stomach, thumbing at his tip and removing the blanket when he starts to buck up his hips, fucking into your hand.

And since you don’t want to make a mess, you wrap your lips around his dick and let him cum down your throat.

“Holy shit,” he says, out of breath. You still refuse to stare at him as you wipe your mouth and grab the remote control to press play again.

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you are.

So you don’t expect special treatment as he batters your cunt with his mean cock, nor do you wait for him to caress your body and whisper sweet nothings into your ear after slapping your boobs so painfully. You like that. You like how mean he is and it’s fucking with your head.

The louder you get, the easier it is for Hanma to fuck into you–arousal is dripping down your thighs, and the sound of skin slapping bounced off the walls of your bedroom. You can’t hide how horny you were, or just how good he was making you feel. All you can do in response to his hypnotizing thrusts is grip his skin and leave your own marks. A way to show that he was yours for the night, even if he were to leave after this and go fuck someone else.

“I-I’m cumming,” you gasp, sounding desperate and clearly not in control of your own volume and voice. Your brain feels fuzzy from all the pleasure, Hanma lets go of your hair and pushes you down until you are on all fours. You’re bent over so perfectly for him that a quiet curse escapes his lips. “S-Shuji, I’m cumming–” not Hanma, not asshole. Shuji.

You’re not sure what kind of noises you’re making, but it sounds so pathetic and whiny that it sends the tall man behind you over the edge. However, you make the mistake of looking over your shoulder and the sight that greets you makes your stomach flip.

A sweaty, red faced Hanma is fucking you so eagerly, hypnotized by the recoil of your ass that he forgets to close his mouth. Fucked out is the best way to describe him. A man who is usually either so amused by others’ discomfort and pain, wearing such a pornographic expression makes you grip the bed sheets and moan loudly as you cum all over his cock.

He lets you ride out your orgasm, gripping your ass cheek and kneading the skin before delivering a harsh smack to it as he picks up his pace until he is emptying himself inside your warm walls. Leaning over, he presses his lips against the skin of your shoulders before asking.

“You...You aren’t fucking anyone else, right?”

“You’re asking that now?” After fucking me and cumming inside me so much?

Obviously you’re not fucking anyone else!

“Just answer.” He demands with a slap to your clit that has you squealing, trapped under the weight of his body.

“N-No!”

“Good.” His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder, and he places both hands on either side of your bodies as he presses his body weight against yours. “Good fucking girl.”

Not sure what he would’ve done had you said yes.

“What?” You’re in a haze, but you still manage to catch bits of what he says and Hanma chuckles to himself.

“Don’t worry.”

“No, you said someth–ah!” your jaw goes slack when he starts to fuck you into the mattress. This position allows him to trap you beneath him with so much ease, until you have no choice but to take his cock and blabber nonsense into the pillow.

“Focus baby girl,” his teeth nip at your earlobe as he sinks his cock again into your cunt “I’m not done with ya.”

Guilt is a weak emotion. Fear, anger and even jealousy are much stronger and can affect someone greatly. If consumed by any of the aforementioned, you’ll find out that sleep doesn’t come to you easily.

Insomnia has followed Hanma Shuji his entire life. There hasn’t been a day where he slept through the night without being woken up in cold sweat and a loud gasp, or without feeling the need to reach for the nearest weapon to him. But as he lays next to you at 3 O’clock in the morning, he starts to question what triggers his insomnia. He’s never felt guilty after a mission, anger only consumed him if someone betrayed him–that leaves out jealousy.

His golden eyes land on your worn out, sleeping figure. He chuckles as he notices your furrowed eyebrows, and his hand starts to move towards your face before freezing. What is he doing? He pulls his hand away, eyes drifting towards your exposed chest before pulling up the covers. He sees the pendant of the necklace resting comfortably around your neck and suddenly feels the need to fix it. Before his hand can reach for the jewelry, your fingers grip it protectively and you pull the covers tightly around your body.

Hah. What’s that about?

“No,” his ears perk up when he hears your sleepy voice mumble into your pillow. “..not..go.”

Not go?

You were obviously talking in your sleep. It wasn’t supposed to make sense.

“Don’t..go.” Sleepiness is replaced with distress. “..kashi.”

Hanma scoffs. Honestly, that’s all he can do in such a situation. After fucking you into a deep slumber, you still manage to mumble another man’s name in your sleep. Which was completely fucking fine of course, you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you agreed on.

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

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myrrhderjuice · 18 days ago

Text

A Ballroom in Chaos

September 9, 2156. 22:15. Durham, England.

Julie Lexington

Alex and I were posing as a couple in front of the ‘elites’ in the ballroom. I was indifferent to it at this point. After so many time-travel missions posing as a couple you get used to it. Lovers in the past, but partners in the present.

The only reason we were a couple in our home time was because I wanted to attend the Rose family birthday gala. Alex had gotten an invitation to attend and I begged him to let me be his plus one. The only issue was I had zero clue what any modern gala etiquette was, but for some reason, Alex did. He gave me brief lessons all last week, but now I had to apply them. I think I’m doing quite well.

The ballroom was decorated in an eerie way. It was the beginning of September, but it looked like the room was ready for Halloween already. Hanging between the pillars outline the room were translucent, black curtains with red string lights hanging down against them. Black pieces of tulle hung from chandeliers in the ceiling to the curtains in between the pillars creating indoor canopies for the tables underneath. The chandeliers glowed with a warm yellow light similar to candle light, only brighter.

Waiters started to scurry around the room, similar to small and scared mice running from something. Odd. Some pushed carts while others walked behind the cart pushers. The waiters walked down the aisle between tables, the two carters at the front continuing to the end of the tables while those in the back would branch off to tables.

I leaned to my left toward Alex. “Were they supposed to enter like that?” I watched as Alex glanced over at me. I heard whispered giggles from across the table and immediately returned to my former posture, without an answer from Alex.

Every table had three waiters now. A carter, and two that were empty handed. In sync, the waiters grabbed the plates of food and set them in front of each guest. I thought back to my lessons with Alex. This would be the first of many courses. I shouldn’t be too greedy with my food.

In front of me was a bowl of soup, labeled:

Compression of Vine Plum Tomatoes & Basil

Gazpacho

Soup wasn’t prioritized on the list of ‘how-to-eat’ etiquette lessons for me. I could only remember bits and pieces of what to do. I looked around the table seeing the ‘elites’ eyes glancing at me.

I heard them whispering-gossiping-about me. Is she going to request grilled cheese for her soup? Or will she pick up the entire bowl like an animal? I hate how everybody must know about everything here. Information spreads like a wildfire

I felt Alex’s hand on my knee and began to watch him from the corner of my eye. In his right hand-dominant hand-he held the soup spoon. I saw him dip the spoon in pushing it toward the back of his bowl then “scrape off” the excess on the edge before bringing it to his mouth. He took his hand off my knee and I took my eyes off of him. His quick mini-lesson was over.

I reached for the soup spoon with my left hand. I heard Alex clear his throat-code for me that I was doing something wrong. I switched the hand reaching out to my right, grabbing the spoon with it and transferring it to my left hand. I mimicked Alex’s movement. Dipping the spoon in, pushing it back, scraping off the excess, then bringing the spoon to my mouth.

As the gazpacho hit my mouth, I could taste the summer wind. The tomatoes had been grown and picked by hand and left alone before being made into the soup. I was no chef, but I had zero doubts in my mind.

Alex Rosenberg

I watched as Julie began to quicken her eating pace. To remind her to eat slower I cleared my throat. Her eyes never moved but she had gotten my message all the same. Her cheeks became flushed and she returned to the slower eating pace. I looked around our table and only saw stoic, yet impressed, faces from the ‘elites’. These people were taught to hide their emotions well. They all thought they were special just because they had money and status. The only thing that made them elite was their high capacity to judge others though.

I glanced around the room, taking note of the waiters. They hadn’t left right after food was served, waiting for any food questions from party goers. However, they should be headed for the kitchen right now. The waiter standing by the other side of the table looked tense. Not uncommon for a caterer, but his clenched jaw and trained eyes were definitely uncommon.

I thought back to the way they entered the room before. They walked in a fearful manner. As if something was chasing them. They were running from something.

Heavy footsteps came from the kitchen, “If you wish to live tonight, then do as I say.” The scurrying of the waiters and tense posture from our waiter now made sense. “Nobody moves, nobody makes any noise. Clear?”

Everybody in the room nodded. ‘Elites’ were trained at a young age to do as an attacker said, unless you were 100 percent sure you wouldn’t get yourself killed. Good thing for Time-Traveler’s training. I couldn’t determine what kind of weaponry my opponent would have on them, putting me at a disadvantage. Do as you're told then.

I heard footsteps to the right of me-fast footsteps. Someone was running, probably a waiter. A gunshot went through the room followed by a thud. Now I knew what kind of weaponry they had on them.

“I’m impressed. Normally there’s a scream or two when there’s a sudden loud sound.” The attacker’s words seemed slurred, like they’d been drinking. That was their mistake. “I’m only here for one woman.”

I set my hand on Julie’s knee. I quickly tapped my finger on her knee, talking to her in morse code. You. Negotiate. From the corner of my eye, I watched her nod. I had a plan now, a second hand in the game.

“Miss Harpeet Tremble.” Former elementary school teacher turned into an incredible scientist. She is a staple in the time-travel community as she revolutionized its complicated science. She had died a couple years ago but Julie looked similar enough to her. I tapped Julie’s knee with my hand then took it off.

Julie’s chair skidded on the floor, alerting everyone to ‘Miss Tremble’ giving herself up. The attacker waved his hand and beckoned her over. Julie looked at me, seeking confirmation. I nodded, I had a plan. I needed her to walk over so I could slip past the hanging curtains.

I waited until Julie was about halfway between our table’s spot along the aisle and the attacker before making my move. I stood slightly, enough to have the illusion of sitting, and lifted my chair up and back. After setting my chair back down I grabbed my dinner knife before quietly darting to the left where the curtains hung. Hidden behind the black curtains and red lights, I took off my suit jacket and rolled my dress shirt sleeves up.

Prepared to fight, I made my way toward the attacker, covered by the curtains and red lights.

Julie Lexington

I had no idea what I was doing before and now I was being watched by all these rich people, walking towards a tipsy shooter. My southern American origins and mannerisms were too prominent in my mind. I just wanted a stress free night.

I had no clue what Alex had planned, but I trust him more than I trust myself right now. The only safety net I had right now was the fact the person in front of me was either almost drunk or drunk. That also puts me at a disadvantage. It would be difficult to negotiate with them if they weren’t in the right mindset.

“Miss Tremble,” The attacker spoke, I felt like I was trembling. “Long ago, you left my beloved little elementary school to go do-” They put their fingers up in air quotes, “Big kid science. How could you leave us like that?”

How could I? “I could because I could change the science you would use now.” I judged the attacker based on appearance to figure out how old they were. “The science we understand now is different than twenty years ago. When you were five or six, time-travel was still such a dangerous thing. Now you can time-travel without fear of dying or getting hurt.” My rugged accent stood out against their posh one, but I took a tentative step toward the attacker. “What’s your name?”

The attacker muttered, “Ivan. Ivan Hardson.”

I spoke loudly, hoping Alex was calling the cops, “Ivan Hardson. I remember you. I told you that you were going to do great things when you were older. I meant it.” That’s a thing teachers say, right? “Look at what you’ve done with your life. Are you proud of yourself?”

“Yeah. I’m proud of myself. I have a stable job, a family, and two dogs. Do you remember the picture of the dogs I drew for you?”

I had never seen a drawing from this man. “Yes, I remember dear Ivan.” I took a second tentative step toward him. “I’m proud of you Ivan. You’ve come so far. Now, may I please see the gun in your hand. I don’t think you’re aware enough to understand what you’re doing.”

His body tensed up, “Was this just a ploy to disarm me?” Ivan yelled. “You don’t even know who I am, do you? Are you even the real Harpeet Tremble? Are you?” Ivan brought the gun up until his eyes could be seen over the top and brought his voice back down, “What if I just shot you right now?”

I took my steps back. I looked around the room, searching for Alex. Searching for my partner. When I didn’t find him, I faced Ivan again. I watched the gun, searching for any slight movements. With my eyes trained on the gun, I started inching backwards.

“Where do you think you’re going?” When Ivan talked, the gun moved and ruined his aim.

“Why don’t you follow me, then you can know exactly where I’m going.” I responded, seeing what movement would do to his aim.

When Ivan walked, the barrel tipped up and down. Good. I kept him trudging around the room.

Alex Rosenberg

Julie was walking around the ballroom with Ivan, making my job of tackling him more difficult. I was watching from behind the curtains. She was walking in circles inside the aisle. She was consistent in her structure, but she would sometimes turn earlier or wait longer to turn. Whether that was her being genuinely inconsistent there or purposefully taking ‘different’ paths, it was good.

I made my way to the closest pillar. I watched as Julie and Ivan made their way around the ballroom, waiting for my opportunity to strike. I made a pigeon coo noise, Julie and I’s signal. I saw her nod; she had gotten my message.

“What was that?” Ivan put a second hand on his gun.

Julie was quick to respond, “It was just a pigeon. One must’ve flown in here at some point.” They rounded the end of the aisle.

I jumped out, Julie jumped backwards. I took Ivan down to the ground. I heard a gunshot and my ear stung. Being closer in his face, I learned that Ivan was in fact sober and aware. I reached my right hand toward the gun, but I saw it wasn’t aimed at me anymore.

“Quit fighting me, or she’ll suffer the consequences.” Ivan had the gun pointed at Julie.

His grip was mediocre, and I doubted it’s do any real damage to her. Still, I didn’t move or get off of him, but didn’t fight him either. I looked over to Julie, her eyes were on the gun. She’d be making the same notes as I did, perks of having the same combat training.

“Get off of me, or she gets it.” Ivan was upset and loud. Julie looked at me. She had a firm look in her eyes, telling me she had a plan.

I reached out for Ivan’s gun. Another gunshot went off, and I heard Julie yelp. The recoil sent Ivan’s hand hitting the hardwood floor. Judging by the lack of strength Ivan put into counteracting the recoil I guessed that the only pain Julie would feel would be the bullet grazing her leg.

I pinned his hand to the floor by his wrist. Ivan threw a punch to my face and I felt blood trickle out of my nose. I heard a new, and larger, gun go off behind Julie. I heard the clicking of heels run to my left and behind me. She was still mobile, which is a good sign.

I ripped the gun out of Ivan’s hand. A second gunshot from the mystery gun went off, this time ‘elites’ did scream. I put my left knee on Ivan’s chest, holding the gun toward the source of shots.

Across the room stood a waiter with a rifle in his hand. I aimed Ivan’s pistol at him, my right index finger hovering over the trigger. I pulled the trigger back. Click. The gun didn’t go off. I ducked and dropped the magazine. Empty. My next best option was to run and hide, creating a distraction from the rest of the attendants.

As I stood up to run, I heard the clicking of a different magazine. I ducked back down. A gunshot went off from the third gun. I heard something thud from across the room. The second shooter. While still on the ground, I turned toward the click, holding Ivan’s gun with the barrel in my right hand. In front of me stood the birthday boy himself. Uriah Rose.

I stood all the way up. If he wasn’t still aiming at something, all threats were neutralized. I handed over Ivan’s gun, and as I did I heard the familiar clicking of Julie’s heels from near the pillars. Though her gait sounded off.

“Are you okay?” I asked, running over to help her walk.

She looked down at her leg, “Yeah, I’ve got the scratch tied up. I’ll be walking like normal in a few minutes.”

I walked us back over to where Ivan was. He was coughing trying to get his breath back. Before he could Uriah swung the stolen empty gun across his face, knocking Ivan out. Uriah looked down at the gun in his hand, then back up at me. “Police are on their way. And I assume the press will want to know what happened.”

“Alex and I are media trained.” Julie spoke leaning against me. “It’s part of basic WATT training.”

We’d have to thank the World's Association of Time Travel later. Because of them, we would be able to recount the events to the press without upsetting anyone in attendance. The ‘elites’ can be distraught and the time-travelers could be heroes.

Uriah had formed a plan, “Alright. You two start planning what you want to say. I’ll come over in a bit to revise and confirm. It is my birthday after all.”

Julie Lexington

September 10, 2156. 00:15. Durham, England.

Alex and I stood outside the venue in front of every news program representative for the globe. We’d spent fifteen minutes neutralizing Ivan and the rogue waiter, 45 minutes with the police, and an hour planning our story. Then the press asked every question they could think of. “Was it someone everyone knew?” “Did they reveal themselves?” “Were you scared of dying?” “What do you think this means for future Rose family events?” “Do you think your injuries will get infected?” The whole shabang.

“I thought I was going to come and have a stress-free night.” Alex was being interviewed right now. On his own. He was a natural at it. He was making jokes, treating the whole deal like everyday work, though it wasn’t far off.

“And how about you Miss Lexington, what were your first impressions of the night?” The interviewer stuck her mini microphone to my face.

“I was really excited to be a part of the gala. I just wish I could’ve gotten more food after talking with the police.” I gave her a smile.

She grimaced at me, I assumed it was because I wasn’t giving her any details on what had happened. “Well thank you for allowing me to interview you guys. I hope you make it to your hotel safely.” As she walked away, I could see her spirit drain right out of her.

We were all tired. ‘Elites’ and waiters alike. The only difference was the waiters had work to get back to in the morning.

“Aw crap. We have to be back at HQ tomorrow.” I whined. “At least we can thank them for giving us the training that kept the ‘elites’ alive tonight, right?”

Alex chuckled, “We can check in with Evette at the European headquarters and let her know that minimum people died because of my quick thinking.”

I commented, “Oh, you mean because of your recklessness?”

Alex was silent for a long time. “Who tackled the guy with a gun?”

“You did, because you weren’t thinking straight.” I yelled, appalled at his ego.

I turned and began walking, with a little limp, toward the train station that would take us to our hotel. Alex waited a while before speedwalking to me, silently bragging about his not injured leg. It was a five minute walk there, and a ten minute commute on the train. While we rode the train, Alex sent Evette-our boss-an email explaining our current situation. When we made it to the hotel room, we took off our shoes and dived into our beds.

Alrighty...so it's a long read. I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoyed it! I had to write a short story for my creative writing class and this was the result.

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