#I’m speaking as someone that IS a low class citizen

[ghoulish00]

I think Everyone should get to go on a little trip every year for their mental health. I wish it was more affordable for middle-lower class citizens

[seeklovenet]

Why Are Latina Girls So Good Looking?

Why Are Latina Girls So Good Looking?

There are roughly over 5.four million U.S. The highest childbearing come from the poor Hispanic girls who are non-citizens, non-English audio system and low in schooling. Hence, many poor infants arrive and develop up inappropriately in old and new locations where Hispanics are concentrated. Immigrating to the united states is a method to search for a greater life.

Travel has allowed me to understand my culture and my own identification. She’s both high of her class in her career, or a keep at residence mom focusing only on her family. To be “coqueta” signifies that she is most likely going playful, type, and like-able. There is the tiniest sense of cockiness implied with this behavior, however it's undoubtedly confidence, not pondering she is best than anyone else.

If you can’t speak any Spanish, you’ll immediately come off as uncultured and unwilling to expand your language skills on your Latina partner. Eating spicy meals is a rite of passage so don’t cry or hyperventilate during your meal with your Latina or her family. You shall be carefully monitored to see if you cross the “Gringo” test.

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This is very true when they're upset. No matter what race, gender, or ethnicity, everyone has their very own unique qualities. This article was written from my private experiences with my Latina spouse and every step has personally labored for me.

Unfortunately, in this day and age this fashion of approaching relationships appears to be so very hard to search out. Tell me i'm mistaken and that i heaven’t seen anything nice that you simply wrote. Hello I just began “dating” a Latina who lives in Colombia. We haven’t truly met but however have Skyped and textual content a lot.

Travel Blogs

And with great reward come nice duty, so I’m going to share with you how one can appeal to a Latina woman with out even trying. Next purpose why you need to date a Latina is because Latin music may be very diverse. It varies from the lively rhythms of Central America and the Caribbean to the more austere sounds of southern South America. However, Latin music is likely one of the catchiest to dance with. Dancing to Latin music with your Latina girlfriend would be the fanciest date. Latinas like to embrace their pure magnificence.

Passion and hard work have triggered Latinas to start engaged on their own lanes. This shows how Latinas have some sort of nice vanity and consciousness of reaching a better life. When it comes to a relationship, Latinas will make a fantastic lover. Instead of all the time relying on their companions, Latinas prefer to stay true of what they're capable of. As long as they can do it, they may try not to bother their significant different.

Nobody wants your “woke” accusations of racism. Although my spouse is submissive, her latina temper terrifies me. Hahahaha I wouldn’t say that every one stereotypes are true, but there's some reality in a few of them. She’s used to being taken care of, and she’s used to taking excellent care of folks.

Journey Assets

I had a GF from Spain after I lived in Belgium. She made enjoyable of how I spoke Spanish and the Belgians and French made enjoyable of my Cajun French (mother from LaFayette, Louisiana–she taught it to me). Good affirmation to what I just about already know. I consider your evaluation of Latin girls may be applied to women of all cultures. I am of West Indian lineage, and have found these attributes are present in women Who I really have dated of many alternative cultures.

Would love to find a beautiful Mexican woman who would get pleasure from being a life companion and desires higher. Someone who just can’t have better regardless of how exhausting she try’s. Strong – Latinas are strong and we are not referring to this in a bodily means. Many Latina ladies face adversities of their daily and total lives, which leads them to be sturdy in a way that may be tough to precise in words. It is the state of mind and consciousness of being a luchadora – knowing that they are prepared and not afraid of what they might face to ensure their pursuit of happiness. Latinas have such a broad variety of delicious cuisine.

In your personal opinion do you assume she only needed me for papers? Because now when i wished to visit her in mexico she minimize off all contact with me, a week ago, and i attempted calling her and writing however i get no response. Even with the issues I am or I’m not… I know these stereotypes to be true. I thought her article was even handed and honest. It pointed out cultural variations which may be completely true but in addition mentioned there are exceptions.

You will wonder of what they turn out to know. Anyway, you don't have to fret when you may have problems that want latin word used in dating a treatment. Your Latina companion will find a means to make things better.

Hopefully, they will construct a stronger bond with their companion. Your response to that remark seems to ignore the fact that not all latinx are Spanish talking. Why do Hispanics like to ignore the existence of non-Spanish talking latinas?

I’ve had complete rooms of people guessing my racial roots as a recreation multiple times. It truly turns into frequent practice for Latina women to come back together looking for group love and support. It’s also a tendency to not tell the older ladies within the family an issue to keep away from scaring them into bad well being. Culturally, we are much less more doubtless to be casually promiscuous, so the probabilities of cheating are statistically lower.

I’m a gringo fortunately married to a Latina for over 20 years. I lived in Australia, and I was always the one Latina! It’s nice to cross cultures and I wish you all one of the best. My spouse may not have a degree but she is a toddler care expert and is doing what she can to become extra concerned in training just to be with our son. A conventional latina is very loyal to her man and takes marital vows very critical.

Hispanic or Latino tradition consists of the traditions. Thus, courting a Latino will information you to study additionally about their religious beliefs and practices, language, idioms, and legends. Indeed, these fields corresponding to literature, arts, music, delicacies, history, social and household values of the Hispanic folks also one of the best a half of a Lania. Latinas are lucky cause Latino tradition is wealthy in holidays and traditions. Some are more traditional than others, but all of them assist keep their culture alive.

[mango-bango-bby]

(I keep messing up between your accounts, sorry 😅) Here is my request for part 2 of Royal Dabi 🤗💕

♡ Kings Orders ♡

(A/N: I absolutely love au’s so much like 😭😭😭 And don’t worry, a lot of people do that!! I hope you like this one day I think I wanna wrote Dabi and reader’s royal wedding 🥺🥺)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, fantasy au, royalty au, king!Dabi, servant  reader, forced kissing, forced engagement

Summary: The king orders you, a servant, to be his (Yan!Dabi x GN!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

Part One ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You walk through the empty ballroom, trying to carry the large bucket of water so you could clean the floors. You sigh setting down the bucket onto the floor. The ballroom was enormous and you had been ordered by a higher up maid to clean the whole thing. You have to get started if you wanted to finish it within the next few days.

You take a step back getting ready to kneel down and begin cleaning the floor. You yelp, accidentally bumping into someone of something. You begin to turn, immediately bowing your head noticing that it was Dabi. No matter where you were in the castle it seemed like he was always able to find you.

“I’m so sorry, your majesty!” You apologize, keeping your head down.  “One moment, your majesty, I’ll get this out of your way” You say, leaning down to get your cleaning supplies out of his way, only for him to stops you by your waist. “Leave everything there, some other maid will clean it” Dabi says, pulling you by your waist so you walk with him.

“Uhm, where are you taking me?” You ask, trying to pull yourself away from his tight grip. You can’t though. You did have a suspicion that he had favored you. You found yourself being given much more food than normal at meal times, you found out your sheets in the servants quarters had been changed to much nicer ones. You even found flowers on your bed. It didn’t make any sense to you, but you almost felt like the king was courting you

“You’re eating lunch with me today” Dabi says as if it was a well known fact. “Why?” You ask simply, watching Dabi turn to you with a small smirk on his face. “I like you” he said, once again, as if it was obvious. The king never liked anyone, let alone a servant! He didn’t even like his own citizens, often waving them away if he didn’t find it important.

You pull yourself away from him finally. “With all due respect, your majesty. I can’t eat lunch with you” You say, bowing your head, not noticing how piercing Dabi’s gaze ways. “You’re a king, and I’m a servant. We’re from completely different social classes. It doesn’t work” you say, finally looking up. Dabi has a blank expression on his face.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work” You finally finish, letting out the breath you’ve been holding in from refusing the king. You turn around to walk away but you don’t get very far before Dabi pulls you back.

“You don’t think you’re worthy of me? Do you think so low of yourself, doll?” Dabi asks, roughly turning you around so you face him. His face mere inches away from yours. You open your mouth to speak, only for Dabi to take the opportunity to kiss you.

You can’t call out for him to stop, not while he’s kissing you like this. Instead you claw at Dabi’s bicep, trying to get him to release you. It doesn’t work though, as if he doesn’t even notice your protests. You can feel tears prick your eyes as his grip tightens on you.

“You’re so cute” Dabi mumbles, fingers pulling away from you. “You shouldn’t be worried about the class difference. Not anymore” He says, pulling out the ring he had prepared for you. He wasn’t exactly sure the ring size so he has to guess a bit. But it looks like it would fit you.

“Let go!” You cry out when he takes a hold of your wrist, putting the extravagant diamond ring onto your finger. “You will my fiancé, sweetheart” Dabi orders, tighting his grip enough for it to hurt and make you quiet.

“We will marry in a couple weeks. Kings orders”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Next Part ➸ ♡ Thank you for reading, darling!!

[fifiophobia]

Jokers Real Name Explained

(Spoilers for Flashpoint Beyond)

I know I��m a little bit late to this, but in Flashpoint Beyond #5 it was reveled that The Jokers (possible) real name was Jack Oswald White

From what I’ve seen, a lot of fans had mixed to negative reactions to this reveal, with a common complaint being that the name “Jack Oswald White” was a dumb name, or that this reveal takes a major aspect of Jokers character away

This post isn’t going to focus on my opinions of the reveal. Rather I’m going to try and explain the significance and symbolism in his name

———

Jokers first name being Jack makes a lot of sense considering a jack is a type of playing card

Another detail to point out is that a jack card is considered the lowest out of all the face cards (not the lowest in the card deck). Something that makes sense with Joker because he used to be a low class citizen

According to Wikipedia, the name Jack-

“was originally a diminutive of John. Since the late 20th century, Jack has become one of the most common names for boys in many English-speaking countries. Jack is also used to a lesser extent as a female given name, often as a shortened version of Jacqueline”

Being a diminutive of John makes sense because of the name, “John Doe”. John Doe is a name used to refer to people whose true identity is unknown. This makes sense considering how many possible names the Joker could have, and his “multiple choice past”

Also, with Jack being a possible nickname (though usually spelt Jackie) for girls as as well makes sense for Joker too considering he occasionally presents himself in a traditionally feminine manner

Now, I’m still trying to figure out why Jokers potential middle name is Oswald, but I think I have an idea.

The name Oswald usually translates to God, to rule/ruler, or divine power.

This makes sense because the Joker is seen as this chaotic, godlike entity despite being human in the DC universe

Also, he’s been referred as “the clown prince of crime”

(Just a side note: every time I think about Jokers middle name being Oswald, I’m always reminded of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, a character -who used to be an entertainer- that was pushed to the sideline and forgotten by people until he showed up as a villain in Epic Mickey. Kind of like how the Killing Joke version of Joker used to be a poor “nobody” until he became a villain. The main difference is that Oswald is no longer a villain, and the Joker is still a villain)

Finally, I think the reason his (possible) last name is White is because of two reasons

The color white is usually associated with purity and innocence. Which ironically fits in with his possible origin story of being a failed comedian because he started off as someone with pure intentions of helping his family, but becomes tainted after having a terrible day that ended with him falling into chemicals. (Also, it’s kind of funny that the guy with pure white skin has white as his last name)

White is a lot like the last name Wayne. Both being five lettered last names that start with W and end in E. Thus adding another connection between Joker and Batman

Again, this is just a theory for why the writers picked Jack Oswald White to be Jokers possible name. So if you have any other theories, feel free to add on.

[sagendipity]

the law of attraction: de minimis

a quackity x reader law school au

part one, chapter two

[PREV] | [NEXT]

.

“Now turn to your left and say hi to your partner, the person your significant other will hate, after you blow them off on Valentines day to do voir dire.”

Alex chuckles, the sound drawing your gaze right over to him. You sigh dramatically, but can’t help yourself from letting a fond smile take over your features.

“Figure it’s time to introduce myself,” Alex quips, holding out a hand invitingly. “Alex.”

“Yeah,” you say, as you take his hand and shake it. He is warm, and your hand fits perfectly in his. “I picked up on that.”

“You will each work in teams of two within larger groups. I will assign you into a group. Each group will have a defense and a prosecution. You do not get to choose which side you represent. You do not get to choose your client. You do not get to choose the crime.” The professor rakes his eyes across the room of students. They all, including you, are silent and sitting attentively. “The only thing you get to choose is how well you represent your client, whether your client be the accused, or the state.”

Beside you, Alex lets out a low sigh, almost a whistle. His knee is bouncing, the black fabric of his track pants bunching up around his knee with the movement. You want to reach out and straighten it, fix the three white stripes running parallel down the side.

“You may know this: the university is granted a courtroom at the William Kunstler Courthouse for academic use. When you leave this room in a few moments, you’ll find informative packets on my desk.” The silver-haired man grabs a heavy stack of papers, and spreads them out on his desk like a dealer spreading a stack of cards. “Take one. It contains all the information you need to win your case, and pass this class.”

Your breath catches in your throat- you had a feeling this was coming.

“If you lose your case,” your professor says. “You will receive a maximum of a B+ in my class. If you win, you are guaranteed an A.”

The static sound of unsettled murmuring steadily rises in the echoey lecture room. You glance over at Alex, who is leaning back in his chair, legs crossed casually. He’s fiddling with one of the hoodie strings that hangs from his collar.

“This mock trial will work as any other real case. Your jury consists of freshmen students in a jury studies elective. They have no knowledge about this case, and you should treat them not as students, but as ordinary citizens when you go through voir dire.”

Alex huffs a laugh again, a little noise that is quickly becoming very familiar to you. “Explains why he went over voir dire for three hours last week.”

Despite the anxiety thrumming through your veins, you nod in accordance. Your fingers thread and twist through each other, the poor ring on your index finger falling victim to your fiddling. You pull it off your finger and twirl it around in your lap, the metal warmed from your body heat even if you feel more frigid than not.

“A real judge will be presiding over your case. Kissing up to them by bringing them a gift basket and ‘thanking them for their time’ is not frowned upon, but it is not effective. They are the only truly impartial ones in that courtroom, most of the time.”

With every word out of your professor’s mouth, you feel your exhaustion growing.

Isn’t this what you want to do? Isn’t this what… everyone here wants to do, for the rest of their lives?

You look to Alex. He’s looking at the professor with bright enough eyes, but the bags underneath them tell a different story, the skin taking on a bluish tint. His relaxed posture, his crossed arms with his fingers tucked into his own sides, the confident yet also unreadable expression he tends to wear still constant as ever. He looks like he knows something you don’t, and that should scare you.

You slide the ring back onto your finger and fold your hands atop your desk.

“The only difference from a real trial is that you have more prep time, and that you have your partner to help you with your side of the case. Both of you will be present in court, choosing jurors, delivering opening arguments, questioning witnesses, presenting evidence and arguments, and, yes, delivering your closing statements. You better get comfortable with your partner. Your futures rest in each other’s hands.”

You think you feel a headache coming on. You’re about to put your entire future, the fate of your entire career, in the warm hands of someone who is, at this point, just this side of total stranger. That should scare you.

“Everyone take a packet on your way out. I suggest you get coffee or a meal with your partner in the time you would spend in this class on an ordinary day. Information about Wednesday’s class is in the packet. We are meeting at the courthouse.” The professor spreads his arms wide, an enthusiastic grin suddenly spreading over his face, looking as out of place as a daisy on a sidewalk full of snow. “Welcome to real criminal procedure. Class is dismissed.”

.

“Here, before I go.” Alex’s voice pulls you out of your stupor with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You think you can feel the warmth seeping into your chilled skin through the thick fabric of your coat. You look down at where his hand rests on you, his skin a beautiful contrast to the dark red of your coat. Then, you notice his other hand- holding out a post-it note. “My number. I’m really sorry, I have to go- I have a thing to do for a friend- but, are you free this afternoon for lunch, maybe? We can get to know each other a bit before we start spending hours together each day.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you force out, the teasing normally coming naturally, but today it feels like speaking around a rock in your throat. “Um- you have to go?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s a- work thing.”

“I thought you said it was for a friend?”

“It is- look, it’s complicated, I’m sorry. I promise, you can have me as soon as I’m done, I’ll call the minute we’re done.” His furrowed brows stab at your resolve, the questioning facade you put up disappearing like a melted snowflake.

Taking the post-it from his outstretched hand, you carefully fold it into quarters and slip it into the pocket of your slacks. Before you do, you catch a glimpse of a little :] scrawled at the end of the string of numbers.

“What makes you think I want you?” you quip back after a moment.

His face falls for a moment, before he gets the joke and his brown eyes spark back up with the intensity of a firework. An unapologetic laugh bubbles up from his chest, an addicting sound that you feel echoing in your own chest, as well throughout as the high-ceilinged lecture hall.

“I’ll grab you a packet,” you say, nodding your chin at the table at the front of the room that has assembled a bit of a crowd around it. “Go, get your thing done.”

“You- thank you!” Alex grins, his hand on your arm squeezing in some sort of a thank-you before he leaps to his feet and grabs his binder. “I’ll see you soon- promise.”

“Promise,” you nod seriously, holding up your pinky.

You don’t expect him to turn on his heel and link his own finger with yours, pulling your hand tight against his for a moment before nodding with an enthusiasm entirely inappropriate for the situation. Then, he is actually gone, with his green jacket slung over an arm and the papers in his binder fluttering as he whisks out the door.

You notice that the frost in the windows had cleared when you see him jog across the street. He crosses just in time for a gust of wind to threaten to tear off his beanie- he slaps a hand down on top of his head, unruly black strands curling around the edges of the hat as he disappears around a crowded street-corner.

.

You sit yourself down in the library with a pen, a highlighter, and a steaming cup of coffee from the campus coffee shop. For midmorning on a Monday, the library is packed. Most of the students are windblown and dusted with snowflakes, their jackets pulled tightly around their shoulders as they seek out shelter from the horrible weather to chat with friends, classmates, and partners.

One of the only open tables rests right in the corner, sandwiched between two wide windows. You find why it’s empty very quickly, the thin glass doesn’t do much to stop the icy air from leaking in. Regardless, you shoulder your messenger bag onto an empty chair before setting yourself up in the chair farthest from the window. The packets you’d grabbed from your professor had taken a bit of a beating in the trek here, both dotted with little spots of water from stray, melting snowflakes.

Wincing as you smooth the packets out with your hand, you carefully wipe away an ink smudge that one particularly big snowflake had created. The words “de minimis” are smudged out, at least you think that’s what had been there, considering the following sentence.

A court of law is focused on the smallest things. Arguments are described as de minimis, as in, having their foundation built upon the smallest of things. One partial fingerprint is enough to seal someone’s sentence. One word misspoken is enough to cause a mistrial. One sentence too far is enough to get yourself held in contempt. The smallest things seal fates and shape lives, in law as in life.

You take your pen and carefully scrawl in de minimis onto the dampened paper.

.

TAGLIST: @just-a-dreammm @strawberrymilkgeorge @wmmy @nochuwastaken @noraimp @axths @tinyegg @moonamor @lincolnns @boiled-onionrings @esylwen @queennightsetz

[nerdygaymormon]

uhhhh david have you gotten the liahona yet bc idk how to feel about an article i found in there yesterday. it was pretty comforting and basic, but did use ssa the whole time. BUT the youth one was pretty crappy, it used ssa to the max and gave no real hope, was pretty bland and annoying about oh itll be find just believe and jesus and get hatecrimed <3 i would like to hear your thoughts on it, its the first time ive seen any queer topics in church magazines

Thanks for bringing these to my attention.

"Same-sex attraction" (SSA) is the preferred term of Church leaders. They say it's a way of not making it your identity, that this isn't part of who I am but rather is something I'm dealing with. In other words, people "have" same-sex attraction, not that they "are" gay or lesbian or bi.

There have been a few leaks from behind-the-scenes where the apostles say they use "same-sex attraction" because it's the term that people like least. People like it less that same-gender attraction or gay/lesbian. SSA includes the word "sex" and I guess the idea is it gets people to think of sexual acts and feel queasy.

SSA is the term normally used in Church magazines because they follow the lead of the First Presidency and apostles.

There's 3 items in the Church magazines this month about queer people! That's a lot for one month.

————————————————————

The first is a bishop talking about how to understand and include LGBT people at church. After becoming bishop, 3 sets of parents contacted him distressed that their child is gay or transgender (I note that the parents used "gay." He also mentions contacting someone who 'identifies as gay").

His first recommendation is to follow the living apostles. (which explains why the bishop uses "SSA" even though everyone else around him used "gay"). It's a good idea for a local leader to find what the current leaders are saying because it's changed. He also says to read the Church's websites titled “Same-Sex Attraction” and “Transgender.” He provides two lovely quotes from those pages about diversity at church and being loving to people who are different.

His second recommendation is to not be afraid to talk to people who identify as gay, but instead try to have love for them and then let the Spirit guide you in what to say. We're just people, it shouldn't be scary to talk to us, that shows how different he thinks we are from the other people he interacts with in his ward.

The bishop's third suggestion is to speak to people who are familiar with LGBT "issues," share your testimony, and apologize for hurtful things you say. His list of people to contact for help understanding was a little disheartening because he starts with his stake leaders, ward leaders, other bishops, and so on, actual queer people were the last people on his list.

He continues by saying to pull aside members who are saying homophobic or transphobic things and give them some personal guidance, don't share private information that a member shares with the bishop, and just because someone has these "attractions" doesn't mean they're acting on them, and if they aren't "acting" on them then you can let them have a calling.

I have a few comments about the last few things. If no one corrects the homophobic/transphobic comments in public but instead privately suggests the person do better, every one who heard those comments thinks they stand unchallenged. The atmosphere created by the comments is unchanged. Especially if the bishop was present to hear those words, if they go uncontested then people think this is what is acceptable.

You'd think bishops know not to share private information a member shares with them. I've been around long enough to know that when a bishop is unsure what to do, he starts contacting his network (stake presidency, other bishops) asking for advice. Some bishops are discreet when doing this and others name the individuals.

While it seems basic, I recently had a counselor in a bishopric who didn't think gay people could get a temple recommend, that there's a zero-tolerance policy. That is an attitude that is outdated by a couple of decades, but it shows that people need to learn that simply existing as a gay or trans person doesn't automatically mean we are committing great sins.

I do find it interesting there appears to have been quite a few queer individuals in his ward, at least 4 or 5, and reading between the lines it seems they all stopped attending.

The bishop's heart is in the right place. I get he's following the Church leaders and that limits some of what he can do for queer people in his ward. I think his perspective primarily is of making the parents feel more welcome in the ward and not ostracized for having queer kids.

————————————————————

The second article in the Liahona is written by a person with same-sex attraction and his work to overcome the shame he felt.

It's a much better article than the one written by the bishop. This person shares about the shame they felt at having gay feelings and working with a therapist to overcome that shame. He shares 3 lessons that helped him with this process.

1) God and Jesus love and accept him as he is. This is a message that doesn't often get conveyed to queer members and it's important they know this.

2) The Atonement of Jesus Christ offers healing. At first he was wanting the Atonement to cure him of being gay, but instead it helped him be healed of the shame he felt. I hear so many members who think the Atonement can change us from gay to straight, and that's not true. I'm glad he made this distinction. Our Heavenly Parents don't view being gay or trans as something that needs to be cured. I wish that message was taught more openly in the Church.

3) Build deeper connections and show compassion. Loneliness and feeling like you don't belong at church are two of the most troubling aspects an LGBTQ+ person has to deal with if they are active in the LDS Church. Developing close friendships will help with that. Also, queer people tend to be more compassionate than the average person and I believe it's because of the experiences we had to deal with of living in a heteronormative world that isn't made for us.

He includes a few useful tips at the end on how to engage with queer people.

All in all, a much better story than the one written by the bishop. He shared part of how it feels to be a gay member of this church, the idea that he should be ashamed for who he is, that being gay isn’t a burden, that he doesn't fit in.

I appreciated he said this is part of his layers of identity and at the core of his identity is that we're children of heavenly parents. That's more nuanced than the apostles who reject being gay has anything to do with identity and our only identity should be a child of God.

————————————————————

The final story is from For the Strength of Youth. This piece seems like it's written by a queer person, but it's anonymous and given as general advice to show that people with same-sex attraction belong at church.

This article makes 3 main points. The first is that God loves you. That's true, although accompanying quotes to back up this principle aren't specifically about queer people.

The second point is "you belong." All sorts of people attend church, and God is no respecter of persons. Then they have a quote from Elder L. Whitney Clayton that people with same-sex attraction are welcome to come to church. To me, he's an odd choice to give this message as he led the Church's fight in California on Prop 8 to make gay marriage illegal again. Words aren't enough. Saying I'm welcome is not the same as making a welcoming climate.

The third point is that God will help you. They include a quote from Laura F. who experiences same-sex attraction. She writes about prayer, scripture study, temple and church attendance. However, she also says she doesn't know what her life will look like in 20 years, she seems to be leaving open the possibility her journey with God will lead her to romance and out of the church. I thought that was very honest and important.

————————————————————

I found it noteworthy that nowhere in these 3 articles does it say being alone and celibate is good and what God wants.

I appreciate the idea that we can make our local congregations less homophobic/transphobic. The suggestions from the bishops shows that the bar is pretty low and it doesn't take much to make an improvement from how things are now.

The voices of the two gay members was important, what they shared was useful but nuanced, didn't make commitments to staying in the church long-term or testify that what the church requires is what God wants for them.

Even so, it's clear the publisher is very careful. They use "same-sex attraction" so often, I think readers would be surprised the preferred term of most same-sex attracted people would be gay, bi or lesbian. While they addressed some things, like homophobic/transphobic comments, feeling shame & not fitting in, I think they largely skated past the things that make queer people decide that this church isn't for them.

There's a part of me that says I'm glad we're having this conversation in the Church magazines, but another part that says this is too sanitized and doesn't get at the heart of things. These are very hopeful messages that make it seem that queer people could easily choose to stay in church if a few adjustments were made and if they only understood God loves them, which avoids the "doctrine" that excludes queer people from the highest blessings and joys and makes us essentially second-class citizens in the kingdom of God, at least according to our church.

[whereisten]

Mr. Hyde

A Hendery fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Hendery is sweet, charming, and kind, but he possesses a dark secret. Unfortunately, Mr. Hyde won’t stay quiet for much longer.

Pairing: Chemical Engineer!Hendery x female reader (college student)

Genre: angst, smut, fluff, violence, murder, horror

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: mental illness mention, blood mention, knife mention, murder described, death of side character, possessiveness, cursing, smut: semi-public sex, protected sex, thigh riding, nipple sucking, slapping, choking, rough sex, car sex mention, daddy kink, size kink, slight degradation, dirty talk.

(A/N: WELLL Halloween is here you guys!! Thank you for the support we have gotten for this series, I hope you enjoy this fic inspired by the iconic Jekyll&Hyde story!❤️🥺)

————

“Oh, hello Hendery..”

“Hello, Mr. Hyde..”

“And how did it go today..with the Mayor?”

“That’s none of your concern, Hyde. Leave it to me.”

The dark voice lets out a haunting chuckle. “Hendery..what would you like me to do?”

“Nothing! I said, it’s none of your concern!” Hendery slams his hand down onto the counter.

“But it’s our lab, isn’t it?” 

Hendery cups his face as he breaks down to tears. “Why?! Why won’t you leave me alone?!”

“Oh..Hendery, you can’t get rid of me, no matter what crazy toxins you concoct. I’ll be here, I’ll always be here.”

———

“I don’t see what my difference my presence here makes..” You roll your eyes and step out of your father’s black SUV.

The driver closes the door behind you while your father takes your hand in his and waves to the crowd with the other.

Today, you’ve joined him for a fundraising event in City Hall. The program is designed to bring awareness to a Missing Persons Search Team Fund. Lately, people have been going missing at an alarming rate and your father, the Mayor, is unsure of what to do about it. The police and volunteering citizens had done the best they could to conduct thorough search parties but no one was ever found. These people varied in age and description so there was no way to formulate a possible killer’s profile.

Your father initiated a curfew for everyone to abide by until they found the missing people and the kidnapper..dead or alive.

You were a college student and your institution was about two hours away, but your father didn’t feel safe and insisted on you staying at home while taking classes online. You did as he said, for you knew that this must’ve been difficult for him, considering your own dealings with the death of your mother. She was found murdered in an alleyway a few years ago, prompting a change in your father’s life. He was determined to become a leading figure in society that would bring down the city’s crime rate. And it worked...until now.

“The more people we have on board, the faster we find these people and the better I look, the better OUR family looks.” He whispered into your ear while displaying a wide smile to his “fans.”

You smiled as well and nodded.

And so, you found yourself seated at a round table by yourself as your father spoke with other leaders, sergeants, politicians, and the fund creators.

And what difference did your presence make? Nothing.

You scrolled through your phone and huffed. You saw pictures of your friends back at college. There had been a Halloween party the night before and they all posted pictures of themselves in their costumes looking drunk and happy. 

You were jealous to say the least. You just wanted a normal life, but now even Halloween was canceled because of the curfew your father put in place.

You didn’t notice that a slender man with brown hair sat down beside you as you pouted.

“You must be so bored..” His low voice spoke.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Hi..yeah, I am very bored.”

The man in a nice dress shirt and tie laughed and then you realized you may have insulted one of the organizers.

“Oh!” You sat up straight in your chair and put your phone down. “I’m so sorry..I didn’t mean to offend—“

“Oh..of course not, sweetheart. I’m quite bored myself.”

Sweetheart. The way that word left his lips made your heart tremble.

You nodded and stared at his heart-shaped lips, maybe a little too long. “I see..” You looked away. “My name is y/n..the mayor is..”

“Your father..yes, is that the only reason for you being here?” He tilted his head while smirking.

You looked to the side and hesitated. You looked up to him with wide eyes.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry but—“

“Don’t be sorry, my name is Dr. Wong, but you can call me Hendery.”

Your mouth fell open. He looked like he was your age, but he already had a doctoral degree? You were stunned.

“I know..I’m kinda young, but I skipped a few grades.”

Your eyes widened. “Wow! That’s so cool, what do you do?”

Hendery smiled when you looked shocked by his title and complimented him. “I’m the leading chemical engineer at the WCT Lab..”

You gasped, WCT lab was responsible for breakthrough advancements in technology as well as medical advancements. That was what your city was primarily known for. And for this young man to be the leading engineer was amazing. Why was he sitting with you, a college student? Surely, you were only insulting his intelligence.

Hendery was pleased by your surprised look once again, he felt a sense of pride.

“Dr. Wong, I mean, Hendery..that’s amazing! You guys have done some wonderful things at that lab. Well..of course, you already know that.”

You closed your eyes. Oh how dumb you must’ve sounded to him.

But Hendery only adored you even more when you got flustered.

“It’s okay, y/n..It happens all the time. People don’t expect that from me, someone that’s just 21 years old, to be the head of all projects.”

You nodded, then looked to your father who was still speaking with several men and women of importance surrounding him.

“Why aren’t you up there with him?” You turned back to Hendery. “You’re just as important as them.”

Hendery glanced up at your father then back at you. Something about his gaze felt..good. His eyes were intense but made you feel like it was just the two of you in the room. You felt warm as you saw his shirt hug his biceps as he leaned forward.

“My presence doesn’t make a difference either, but it does make me look good.” He gave a wink as his smile widened.

Your face became warm.

“I’ll tell you what..come with me for a moment, I’m going to show you a cool trick.”

He stood up and held his hand out for you to take. You held it and smoothed your dress down as you stood up.

Hendery thought you were beautiful, unlike anyone else. You were like a butterfly with a unique pattern of vibrant colors on its wings. Your touch was delicate like one too.

He took you to the kitchen in the hall. No one was there but the two of you.

You stood by the island in the center.

“What are we doing here?”

“Are you nervous?” Hendery shuffled through the freezer.

“No..” You lied as you looked around for the closest knife to pick up just in case he tried anything.

“The knives are to your right.” He called out, as if hearing your thoughts.

You chuckled and leaned against the counter while feeling embarrassed.

“Okay, so I’ve got some ice..” He placed a few ice cubes onto the countertop and then reached over for the salt dispenser.

“And some salt..”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. “Okay.”

“Now, hold your hand out.” He smiled at you again.

Your brows furrowed but you did as he said.

He placed his hand over yours. Your skin was smooth and warm, his touch was gentle as he slowly traced his fingertips over your knuckles.

He stood so close to you, you could feel his breath on your forehead.

Your eyes grew as a silent moment rested between the two of you, you looked up at him as if no one had ever held your hand before.

He cleared his throat and looked away from your eyes and to your hand. “I’m going to put some salt in your palm, then I’m going to place ice on it, simple right?”

You nodded.

Hendery smiled again and glanced down at your lips.

“Alright..good.”

He poured the salt out then put about three ice cubes into your hand.

“Now, close your hand.”

You do as he says and after a few seconds you wince in pain.

A burning feeling shoots through your hand, you open your palm out and shake the ice to the floor.

“Oh my God, Hendery! What the hell was that?” You look up in pain. 

Hendery laughs. 

“You see, salt lowers the melting point of ice..hence why you briefly experienced the burning sensation.”

“I could’ve gotten frostbite!” 

Hendery only laughed harder. “Y/n...you wouldn’t be so stupid as to let it stay long enough for that...but I am.”

You looked up at him questioningly.

He poured salt out into his own hand and placed ice onto it.

He shut his hand and smiled. You watched him intensely. How could he endure this type of pain for so long?

“Hendery..that’s enough, you should stop now.” 

You go to grab his hand, but he turns.

“No, no, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Surely, that must be painful, Hendery!”

“Does it impress you?” He turns when you try to open his hand again. He smirks while he watches you freak out.

“No..no! It doesn’t, it’s freaking me out actually!”

Hendery pouts with his hand still closed. “Oh no..I wanted to impress the pretty girl.”

You shook your head. “Let me see your hand.”

He turns again.

“Hendery!”

“I’ll let you see it, if you let me take you out some time.”

You tilted your head. “Oh my God, that’s why you did this? Hendery..why didn’t you just ask?” You peel his hand open and see red, burnt skin. Several lesions have been created.

Your eyes widened but Hendery only adores your face while you hold his hand.

“So is that a yes?” He pays no attention to the burns on his palm, knowing that they’d go away soon enough if he just drank the right thing for it.

“You’re crazy, but yes, you can take me out.”

————

[Two Days Later] 

You and Hendery swapped phone numbers later that night. You agreed to go to the street art fair where you would walk around and learn more about each other.

Hendery waved to you as he walked over to the entrance.

He looked cooler now, in a flannel and jeans while aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. 

His hair had a slight wave to it and hung more loosely than it did the first time you met.

“Hey Doc, how’s your hand?” 

Hendery held his palm out to you and to your surprise, you saw nothing that would indicate he had burned himself just two days prior. His palm looked normal.

“W-what?”

“All healed up, I told you I’d be fine.”

He smirked then took your hand and led you through the gate.

The fair was calm, you got to talk about your major in college and why you were home this year.

Hendery told you that he got his degree overseas and came back here to help your town. He said that he always felt drawn to it for it needed so much assistance, he felt he was the one to help.

You liked his dedication to his craft, but even more, you liked watching him talk about it. His eyes were shielded from you, but even then you could tell that he was passionate and in love with his work.

“Well..I guess it’s time to go home..gotta get back before curfew.” 

You stared up at him. “You’re right. I had a—“

“Y/n! What are you doing here? I thought you were home.”

It was none other than your father. He hustled towards you. Hendery’s smile fell as he watched him walk over. 

“I’ll go mad if I spend any more time in the house, dad.” You sighed and crossed your arms.

His focus shifts from you and to Hendery. “And young man, it’s nice to see you again, but what has my daughter done to warrant your presence?”

You rolled your eyes, your finger rubbed your temple.

Hendery chuckled softly. “Your daughter and I had a wonderful time today, we were just saying goodbye.”

Your father frowned and looked back at you.

“Well...goodbye then.” He stepped towards you.

You turned to leave with your father before you could be embarrassed any more. Your father was always like this since your mother died, overprotective and on guard.

“Y/n…” Hendery’s soft voice called out.

You turned back to look at him. Your face looked gorgeous in the sunset, the sun made your eyes glitter and your lips were shaped perfectly. Of all the art he had seen today, you, in this moment, were the prettiest sight he’d ever seen.

“Yes?”

“I’ll..see you later.”

You smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

When you got to your father’s car, he scolded you on how you shouldn't be interested in speaking with anyone right now, for everyone was a suspect.

“You have to be careful, no one is safe!”

You leaned your head against the window.

“I understand, father, but all of my friends are at college right now, would it really hurt if I go out every now and then?”

“Yes! Yeah it would hurt, why? Because you could go missing or lose your life!”

“Why are you so strict? He’s a nerd, what harm could he possibly do to me. I thought you’d like him, I know mom would’ve--”

You stopped when you realized what you had said. Your mom's death was something that you were both still grappling with. You tried not to speak of her, for it only made both of you more upset.

Your dad sighed, he held back tears. “Y/n..I’m sorry..I’m sorry I’m this way..Sometimes I can’t help it, but..I’m just worried, I-“

“I know, dad..let’s just go home.”

When you got inside he spoke to you again before you headed to your room. “That boy..If you want to see him again..He’ll be at the soup kitchen on Thursday, he’s always helping out there.”

You turned and smiled. “Thanks, dad.”

———-

[Thursday]

You had volunteered at the soup kitchen a few times during high school, it was a rewarding experience, for you got to help out while hearing from members of the community that you wouldn’t usually meet or speak to. They varied in age and overall life experiences, each one had a story to tell. 

You stood in the utilities closet of the kitchen alone and put your apron on, but struggled to tie it in the back.

“Damn it..” You whispered, you just couldn’t find the other strap.

Then you felt a presence behind you. 

“Do you need help?” You heard a familiar voice say.

But before you could spin around to face him, his fingers tapped along your waist on both sides and grabbed the straps. He stepped closer, leaning down to breathe against the back of your neck.

A chill ran through your body as the apron tightened around your body perfectly.

You finally spun around to face him.

“Hendery.” 

He watches his name fall from your lips.

He smirks and licks his lips. “How’d you know?”

You laughed, but his intense and low gaze on your face made you weak.

“Your voice..I’d recognize it anywhere.”

Hendery blushed and laughed.

“Do you like my voice, sweetheart?”

Another chill vibrates through your body and you find yourself pressing your legs together.

You breathe heavily and nod. “I do..and I’d like it if you’d call me at night...when you leave work of course.”

“Understood.” He licks his lips again and turns to leave. You follow behind him and out to the main dining area where you both serve food together.

During your break, you watched him go to each table to talk to all of the families eating. He grinned as they asked him how he’d been doing since the last time they saw him the week before.

He even sat down next to any elderly attendees that needed assistance with eating their food.

Your heart fluttered. He was so kind, caring and handsome on top of it all.

“How long have you two been seeing each other?” A man said. His voice broke you out of the trance Hendery had you in.

“Oh..” You turned to him as you leaned against a wall.

“We aren’t dating.”

The man that spoke to you was none other than Yuta, the head chef and owner of Osaka Moon, the best restaurant in the city. He was in charge of providing food for the soup kitchen every Thursday and did a wonderful job each time from what you had heard. Everyone loved his five star meals.

He smiled softly. “Well..if you continue to look at him like that..it won’t be long til you do.”

“Like what?” Your brows knitted.

Yuta only chuckled and shrugged his shoulders before walking away.

But he was right, you started dating. You found yourself FaceTiming Hendery every night until you fell asleep. You spoke about everything, never running out of topics to talk about and never getting bored. His personality, like Cinderella’s slipper, fit yours incredibly well.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the only thing that fit perfectly. 

———

[1 Month Later]

One day at the soup kitchen, the two of you found yourselves knocking over cans of fruit in the kitchen closet.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slid in and out of you for the first time. You just couldn’t hold back anymore. You wanted him badly and a kiss just wasn’t enough.

He covered your mouth with his hand, for your moans were beautiful but grew increasingly louder as he rubbed your clit. 

He breathed heavily into your neck. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ruin you later for being so loud.”

You let out a mewl while the wetness between your legs increased at his words.

Your nails scratched his back as he pinned you against a cabinet.

And later that day, he did ruin you in his car before he let you out to go home. He parked just a few blocks away, luckily his windows were tinted so no one could see him bringing you to paradise in the back seat with your hands tied behind your back with his belt.

You laid down together when you finished.

His fingers played in your scalp as your back rested against his chest. He kissed your neck and listened to you breathe.

“How’s school?” He said in between kisses.

You took his other hand in yours and intertwined your fingers. “It’s okay, finals are stressful.”

“Well, you know I’m here to help.” He kisses you again.

You smiled. “Of course, but I know you have your own issues to deal with. How are things at the lab?”

You knew he had been frustrated lately because some of his appeals for certain projects had been denied by the national organizations. You failed to remember the very specific details he told you the night before, but he was overjoyed that you remembered him even mentioning it.

He smiled to himself, tucking your hair behind your ear as you yawned.

“Things are okay, it'll all work out, I’m sure.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Hendery chuckled. “Because they all give in to me sooner or later.” His voice sounded a bit different then, it was deeper, rougher.

Deep into the night after Hendery drops you off home, he drives down an empty street.

“When will you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“About me! About us..”

“She will never know about you because you don’t matter!” Hendery says sternly.

“Fuck you! I’m the reason why you got this far, you fool!”

He grips the steering wheel and winces. “I like her..a lot. I can’t hurt her. I won’t hurt her.’

“And how many times have you said that before? Hmm?”

Hendery blinks slowly and looks to his rear view mirror.

“The clock strikes 8 and the world goes empty, which poor, wandering soul will be our next victim?”

“‘Our?’ You’re on your own..”

“And when the blood is on my hands, don’t forget to look down at yours too..now shut up, and stop here..this girl looks lonely.”

“No..I won’t do that.”

“I wasn’t asking! Pull over!”

“No!” Hendery struggles, but pulls over and stops right beside a girl waiting at a bus stop.

“Hello..need a lift?”

——

[1 Week Later]

You hadn’t seen Hendery since that night, you knew that he was busy with work, but you didn’t think he’d be this busy.

“Hey.” You say once he answers the FaceTime call.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He looks disheveled and has bags under his eyes. His eyes look intense as he props the phone up beside his computer screen and continues to type.

“Are you still at the lab?” 

Hendery feels soft when he hears your sweet voice, it calms him down. He stops typing and looks at you, all cuddled up in your blanket on the bed.

“Yeah..” he pouts, “I wish I could be there with you right now..”

“Oh? And what would you do if you were here?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ahhh you naughty girl, well..just for that, I’d only cuddle you..”

“Henderyyyy don’t be so cruel, what if I need you?” 

“Then I’d hug you tightly and make you wait until the morning.” He winked and started typing again.

“What if I call you “daddy?” You whisper into the phone, knowing that it would drive him crazy.

His typing fingers stuttered for a moment but he exhaled and furrowed his brows as he continued his work.

“Baby? I haven’t seen you in so long, play with me..please.” You begged.

“No..not tonight, sweetheart.” He wasn’t even looking at the screen anymore.

“But baby..”

“I said no!” He said angrily. You never heard him like this before. His voice was rough again and different, like it had doubled.

He looked at you then back at his computer screen.

He fidgeted and had trouble breathing for a moment, but you stayed silent.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I should go now, goodnight.”

He hung up before you could say goodnight.

That was the first of many moments that were strange to you. Hendery wasn’t as sweet sometimes. He’d be short with you even at the soup kitchen. When you tugged his shirt to pull him to the back he ignored you and fixed his hair.

He looked tired and you tried to pin it on him acting on the stress he was recently experiencing, but the truth was that it was much more complicated.

Late at night, Hendery would find himself fighting someone else. Someone that had been more intent on doing their own thing.

“Let’s take a walk in the park tonight.”

“No, Mr. Hyde..”

“Really? I think it would help you to relieve some stress.”

“I need to sleep..I feel terrible, I don’t even know what you’re doing anymore..why don’t you stop this? Why don’t you leave me alone so I can function like a normal person?” Hendery holds his head as he lays down on his couch.

“You can rest while I take care of the imbeciles out there, the more we kill, the happier we’ll be.”

“No!!” Hendery shouts. “How many more?! How many more must die at your hand? I will control you! You will not overrule me!”

He grabs a glass of green liquid from the coffee table and brings to his lips. He chugs it down as tears stream down his face, but soon he is thrown to the floor on his knees. He feels fingers in his throat, his eyes roll in the back of his head as veins protrude from his forehead. Then, out comes the liquid that he just struggled to swallow.

He balls his fists up and cries. “NOOOO!! That was the last of it!”

“It’s okay, Hendery, it’s time to go to sleep anyway. You’ll make more tomorrow, but you’ll be just as defenseless against me.”

“No, no, please don’t! Please don’t kill anyone else!”

“And what would you rather me do to gain satisfaction? Torture them until they BEG to be killed?” Mr. Hyde laughs sinisterly as Hendery drifts into unconsciousness.

The next morning, Hendery wakes to find himself covered in blood, he can’t remember how he got to his bed or whose blood is on him, but he sees the knife at the end of the bed covered in blood as well. He breaks down in tears and yells out for mercy as he realizes that he can no longer control Mr. Hyde.

————

[Two Days Later]

You meet up with Hendery for a Starbucks date.

“I’m sorry about the other night..the stress got to me.” Hendery smiles softly when he watches you burn your mouth with hot coffee.

The truth was that you like iced caramel macchiato but you wanted to be more “serious” around Hendery so you only drank black coffee like a “regular” adult.

You hissed as the hot liquid burned your tongue.

“How many times do I have to tell you?..just order what you want.” He giggled and sipped his own coffee.

“Eh, I know, but..isn't it a bit childish?” You asked with wide eyes.

Hendery chuckled and ran his hand down the side of your face. He adored you. 

“No..nothing is childish if you enjoy it.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

You sat in silence most of the time as you both worked on your projects separately. Hendery still looked handsome, but strange. You’d glance up at him every now and then and see that his brows were always knitted and his lips moved like he was talking to himself.

He spoke quickly, so you could never make out what he actually said.

The bags around his eyes were red and his cheeks looked more sunken in like he hadn’t been eating well. His shirt was crushed, but when you first met him his shirts were always pressed and tucked in neatly. And his hair had grown out, like he hadn’t bothered to visit a stylist recently.

“Hendery..is everything alright?” You put your hand on his.

He quickly withdrew his hand and held it while glaring at you.

“I’m fine!” He said loudly, the few customers sitting nearby turned to the two of you when they heard his roar.

He realized he was loud and relaxed into his seat. “I’m sorry, again. I-I was just frightened.”

You nod slowly and put your hand back under the table.

Before the two of you departed each other, you gave him a hug and a kiss. 

You walked towards your house as Hendery watched.

He felt pain in his heart when he watched you walk away with a defeated look. You were sad because of him, and he hated that. He just wanted to make you happy, he just wanted everything to be under control.

“Y/n..There’s a new art museum opening up on Friday, your father extended curfew just for it..would you like to go with me?”

You turned to him and smiled widely. “Is that a date?”

“Of course..we can spend some time in my car afterwards..if you want. Would that make you happy?” He gave you a wink.

You nodded. “As long as I’m with you, Hendery. I’m happy.”

———

[Two Days Later]

Hendery decides to have dinner with your father at his penthouse. He pretends to prepare a meal for him that was actually provided by Osaka Moon’s Catering company.

He had a maid make everything spotless and made sure to spend a little more time on his hair and outfit. He had to ensure that your father took him seriously, for he would plan to ask him once more for a donation from the city for his lab. They would be able to do more research this way. 

He had posited the question once before, but gained a disappointing ‘no,’ as your father focused more on the missing people’s fund, however, Hendery believed it imperative for the lab to gain new resources and make new developments that would positively affect the city’s environment.

So tonight, he hoped that with some food and humor, he could convince the mayor. 

“What are your intentions with my daughter? I see you have been seeing each other quite frequently lately..” your father took a bite of his steak and chewed while looking down at his plate.

Hendery smiled. “Your daughter and I have a wonderful relationship, I would say. She is very supportive and kind, the world could be better with more people like her.”

“Well, I certainly agree. Do you feel that you can protect her from this cruel world?” He looks up from his plate and looks sternly on Hendery.

Hendery swallows hard, but nods quickly. “Of course, I’d do anything to protect her.”

Cut the bullshit, get to the question.

A few more minutes pass. The two speak about wonderful changes that have occurred in the past year. Hendery even cracks a few jokes to get a chuckle from your father.

As things whine down and your father prepares to leave, Hendery leans forward and intertwines his fingers on the dining table.

“Mr. Y/l/n, I believe that you are a man of great intelligence, therefore, I believe that you will make the right call by supporting my lab.”

Your father raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms as Hendery continues.

“I believe that you will see the importance of funding our research at the lab. We will be able to make even more groundbreaking developments like we have in the past year. We need the resources should we continue.”

Your father thinks for a moment then shakes his head. “I am so sorry, son, but I cannot issue the funds to your lab at this time.”

Hendery sighs but the mayor continues.

“We are dealing with a huge crisis in our city right now, I have to help our citizens find their loved ones. Furthermore, with the holidays approaching, we must provide food and assistance to families in need. The budget for your lab is not there.”

“Yes, sir, I understand the importance of these things, but I have been asking for your assistance for these past few months now, we simply cannot go any further without it..” Hendery taps his finger against the table while trying to hold back. He swallows the grumbling in his chest.

His eyes stare intensely at the mayor, but the mayor is unfazed.

“I will not provide tax payers money to some boy that wants to do his little experiments..at the end of the day, your work being done is not a matter of life or death.”

Hendery twitches when he hears the mayor’s insult.

“Please..don’t make me do something I’ll regret.” He whispers lowly.

Your father leans forward in his chair.

“Is that a threat, boy?”

Hendery smirks and loosens his tie.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but just because you gave me some food, doesn’t mean I will bend over and let you do what you will.”

Hendery laughs under his breath. “Your daughter did.”

Your father shoots up from the table.

“What did you say?!”

Hendery’s eyes narrow, his mouth grows into a creepy smile as he laughs. “You heard me!”

Your father walks around the table and grabs Hendery up by the collar, but Hendery grabs the steak knife and presses the sharp tip into his neck just deep enough to draw blood.

Your father freezes, his eyes widen in fear.

“Hendery, what in God’s name are you doing?!”

“Hendery isn’t here anymore, you fucking fool. You should’ve just listened to him the first time, now I have to take over because he was too weak!” Hendery’s voice comes out in a deep tone your father had never heard before. Venom practically leaves his tone as he speaks.

Your father stares in confusion as the knife presses in deeper.

“Listen, you worthless piece of shit. We thought you were smart but it turns out you’re just as dumb as any other bimbo in this shitty city. So let’s spell it out for you, give us the money or we will kill your daughter…”

His head snaps to the right. “We won’t kill her!” Hendery’s usual voice cries out.

“Shut up!” He snaps his head back to the left.

“You’re-you’re insane.” Your father stares into his red eyes and pale skin.

He looks strange and scary, like someone that was already dead.

This couldn’t possibly have been the same person he spoke to just a few minutes ago.

“Aren’t we all, mayor?” He chuckles and twists the knife, your father cries out in pain.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll give you the money!” Your father couldn’t lose you like he lost his wife. He wouldn’t mess up this time, he had to give Hendery whatever he wanted if he wanted you to stay alive and well.

Hendery nods. “Good.” 

He lets the mayor go and laughs loudly while still wielding the knife in his hand and watching the Mayor run out.

———

[Friday Night]

Hendery wakes up at 9 P.M. He looks down at his hands and sees bruises across his knuckles.

He sits up straight on the bed and rubs his head.

“Shit..what did you do?”

But there’s no answer.

He missed the entire day because of Mr. Hyde. He was taking his life over, it seemed the potion was no longer having an affect on him, for he couldn’t remember where he was on most nights. But even worse, more recently it seemed he’d blackout during the days as well.

He looks at his phone and sees that he has 13 missed calls and several text messages from you.

“Damn it!” He curses and jumps up from the bed. He runs to the shower to see if he can go to the art museum before you left.

He called you several times as he drove to the museum but you didn’t answer, you ignored his calls because you were pissed he didn’t show.

You were busy speaking with Ten, a writer for the city’s newspaper. He was observing an artwork when he came across you staring at your phone with tears in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You looked up at him with a somber expression then broke down even more. He took you outside where you talked about what happened. He then told you a joke to make you laugh and about his job.

“I focus on stories that deal with art and culture, so of course I had to be here.”

“Oh, that’s very nice. The pieces in there are really interesting..well, at least from what I saw before I started crying like an idiot.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“Don’t say that..you’re not an idiot. I’m sure he has a reason..you just need to talk about it.”

You nod. “But Ten, it’s not just that. He’s been...different lately. I can’t speak with him very often because he gets upset..this was supposed to be our first date together in a long time. It was supposed to be a “first” for us.”

Ten nodded as he watched you sniffle. “Have you thought about leaving him?”

You shook your head. “I really like him...I just think we need more time, maybe we just have to work on communication.”

Ten gave you a smile. “I agree, if you think he’s worth it, then you’ll both find a way to work it out. Now, it’s 9:30..would you like me to drop you home before you lose a slipper, Princess?”

You felt your face become warm as you smiled.

Ten walked you home as the two of you continued to talk about painters and the artistic styles you enjoyed.

You never noticed Hendery watching the two of you from across the street.

He felt his heart race, an animalistic side was creeping out as he watched you laugh and smile with another man. Sure, he didn’t show up for your date, but did that mean that you should move on so quickly?

Hendery grows angry, he sticks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and watches Ten give you a hug at your doorstep.

“I should just text her back and apologize.”

“And what will that do? She’ll just ignore you then go on a date with this guy tomorrow.”

“Thats nonsense, she wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Oh, Hendery, he wants her, she wants him, it’s clear to see. But you won’t believe it until she trips and conveniently falls on his dick, will you?”

Hendery shakes his head. “Shut up!”

“Why don’t we just get rid of him so you don’t have to worry about that happening?”

“No! No more murders.”

“But Hendery, what about the elderly man from this morning? Or the middle aged homeless person from the afternoon? Or how about the young girl from the bus stop?” 

“Stop it, Hyde!”

“Hendery...it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

“No! No!! Don’t do this again!”

But Hyde takes over once more, following Ten as he walks back to the museum.

———

[The Next Day]

You wake up late in the afternoon and turn the TV on for the news. Your dad already left for work so it’s just you in the house.

“Breaking News, it was discovered this morning, a writer from The Chronicles has gone missing. He goes by the name Ten and his vehicle was found with the key in its ignition and the front door open. Ten was last seen at the opening for the new art museum on 45th street.. If you have any information on Ten’s whereabouts, please contact the police at 555-5127.”

Your mouth fell open. The friendly gentleman that you met the night before had gone missing. You instantly felt guilty as you realized that he dropped you home and put his life in danger for it.

Then, your doorbell rang.

You looked through the peephole and saw Hendery.

You bit your bottom lip and sighed. You had been avoiding him since he ditched you, but you should’ve known he would visit you sooner or later when he knew your dad wasn’t home.

You opened the door.

“Hi.” You said with tight lips.

Hendery looked at you with pleading eyes that almost broke your hard exterior. His hair was wavy and hung in his forehead. His eyes looked tired and his face looked drained, but he still looked handsome to you.

“Baby..I’m so sorry, can I come in?”

You widened the door. “Yeah..I guess..”

Hendery brought in a large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a large gift bag in the other hand.

You sat down on the couch and turned off the TV.

“Okay, baby, listen, I’ve been at the lab a lot lately, I haven’t had enough sleep and I..I decided to take a nap like an idiot. I overslept and missed our date, I’m so so sorry, please baby, I didn’t do it on purpose.” He says in one breath as he drops the bag down and gets on his knees in front of you.

Your eyes widen. “Okay! Okay, you don’t have to do that..”

“Do you forgive me?” Hendery’s eyes are round and watery.

You caress the side of his face with your hand while he looks up at you like you’re the messiah. “Hendery..we should talk, maybe you should take a break from the lab..you look tired.”

Hendery melts in your hand as he closes his eyes. “Sweetheart..I love your touch..”

“You’re stressing yourself out, maybe it’s time for a vacation.” You continue.

He places his hand over yours and brings it to his lips. He kisses it softly.

“I’m fine, baby. I promise.” His voice is gravelly and makes you weak.

You sigh. “Sit beside me…”

Hendery smirks, he’s able to change the topic so effortlessly once he hypnotizes you with his eyes and touch. “Why?”

You lick your lips. “Are you really teasing me right now? After what you did last night?”

Hendery chuckles and gets up onto the couch beside you. You take his face in between your hands and kiss him deeply. You both grow hot and kiss each other with more passion as you struggle to breathe steadily, your tongue brushing over his and his teeth nipping onto your bottom lip.

He pulls away abruptly. “Wait..there’s something I have to show you.”

You watch him reach into the gift bag and pull out a large box. He hands it to you and grins. “Open it, sweetheart.”

“What’s this?” You lift the sides carefully and open the top. You then see that it’s a beautiful dress, but not just any dress. As you hold it above your head to let it fall loose from the box, you see that it’s the black Gucci dress that you told him you loved. It was long sleeve but slit down the center with a plunging neckline. 

You gasped. “For me?”

Hendery nodded when he saw your face light up.

“Oh my god! Hendery!” You turned to him with your mouth still agape.

He nodded. “You’re gonna look great in it, baby, but there’s something else..” he reaches into the bag and pulls out a small ring box.

“Hendery..”

He opens the box and shows you a dazzling emerald cut sapphire colored ring.

Your eyes widen even more. “Oh—oh my god!”

You fling your arms around him and hug him tightly.

He laughs as you freak out over your gifts and holds you to his chest. The two of you fall onto the couch and continue to make out.

“I love it, baby, thank you.” You say before kissing his neck.

He feels a chill run through his body as you lay on top of him. “It’s a promise ring, I promise to protect you and love you for as long as I live.”

You felt your legs weaken by his words.

“Hendery..I love you..” you kiss his collarbone.

Neither of you felt that it was early, for there was an undeniable connection that you had to each other. You couldn’t imagine yourselves with anyone else.

You sucked his skin in between your teeth and listened to him moan, the purplish marks you gave him standing bright and clear as the sunny day outside. 

You then pulled the band of his sweatpants down to reveal his hard member and licked the tip leaking with pre cum already.

You forgot about everything as the two of you made love. You only felt him, his love, his embrace, his caring nature. You loved it all and yearned for him to be with you forever.

———

[New Year’s Eve]

Things had calmed down a bit since that day. Hendery started looking and feeling better as his lab received more than enough money to continue research and development projects.

You also noticed that the rate of people going missing each week had gone down significantly, as if the culprit was taking a break for the holidays.

You felt happier now that Hendery and your father were both happier. Things felt right when you had Hendery by your side for Thanksgiving dinner and for the entire day of Christmas. And now, you could ring in the new year together. You hoped that your future would remain as bright as these past few days had been.

Hendery bought you so many gifts for Christmas, you had to leave some of them in his place. But you didn’t mind it, as it gave you an excuse to stay over some nights. Surprisingly, your dad was okay with that.

Your dad lifted curfew for the holidays, meaning you and Hendery could go to the movies or ice skating whenever you had the chance. You also got to make out by the giant Christmas tree by city hall and snap a few pictures together.

And when the nights were cold, Hendery wrapped you in his arms and kept you warm. He’d whisper sweet words into your ear and wait for you to drift into sleep.

He was taking double the amount of his “medication” to hold Mr. Hyde back. He was able to create more of it with your father’s generous donation that allowed him to buy the chemicals necessary. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that a part of him missed Mr. Hyde, for he felt more..confident with him around.

Nonetheless, Hendery spun you around on the ballroom floor as you danced.

The city was having a countdown special at a mansion owned by Johnny, the owner of the popular greenhouse conservatory on the outskirts.

His place was beautiful and you found yourself in awe at all of the art on the walls.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” You looked impressed by his dancing skills.

Hendery blushed. “I didn’t know I could either, but I may have watched a YouTube video or two to prepare for this..” he gave you a wink.

“Ohh..I see.” You laughed out as Hendery watched your beautiful smile. You looked stunning in the dress he bought you. Your neck and cleavage looked wonderful and oh so tempting. Your makeup was also done well, even though he thought you were gorgeous without it.

Hendery looked dapper in his suit and smoothed back hair. His hand on your waist and the way he looked into your eyes as you danced close made you tremble.

Hendery couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting down to your chest. He breathed heavily and the beast inside him dared to crawl out at any moment.

He was struggling to hold him back, but your silky, revealing dress has their thoughts running wild. He’s growing impatient. Sooner or later, Mr. Hyde will take over if Hendery doesn’t hold him back.

Hendery clears his throat and lets go of your hand. “Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom..”

A look of concern crosses your face but you nod and watch him scurry to the bathroom.

In the meantime, you watch your father speak to the elites a few feet away. You take a sip of your drink and look to the other direction.

A lady walks over to you suddenly.

“Hello! You must be the mayor’s beautiful daughter! How are you?” The woman asked enthusiastically.

You gave a smile that your dad would’ve been proud of and shook her hand.

“Yes! I am his daughter and thank you so much, I’m flattered.” You chuckled.

She nods. “You look amazing, but I couldn’t help but notice the ring on your finger.”

She points to the ring on your hand that is holding the glass.

“Oh.. what about it?”

“It’s just...I could’ve sworn I saw it on TV or something..” she puts a finger to her chin.

You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Ahh! Yes! That’s where I saw it, on the news I think, it was missing from a jewelry store! I think it’s worth about 50 grand!”

“What are you talking about?” Hendery pops up behind her.

He walks beside you and takes your hand in his. “Are you really trying to harass the Mayor’s daughter by accusing her of stealing a ring?”

The woman shook her head. “I am so sorry, you guys have a good night.” She walks away.

You turn to Hendery. “What was that?”

Hendery’s face relaxes when he looks back at you.

“I don’t know, but let’s dance.”

You dance for a few more minutes. Hendery starts to sweat and pull your body closer to his, he licks his lips as he watches your eyes fall low.

“Baby, I’m so sorry but I can’t take it anymore.” He takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom upstairs where things are a little quieter.

You stumble into the bathroom while kissing. Hendery fidgets his hand behind him and eventually finds the lock. He also flips the light switch.

He wraps an arm around you, picking you up and placing you to sit on the counter.

You continue to kiss him but Hendery is impatient.

He lifts his mouth from yours and yanks down the fabric of your dress to reveal your hard nipples.

“Fuck..this is what I’ve been dying to see all night.” He latches his mouth onto your nipple, sucking hard as you hold your body up with your hands behind your back.

Your head falls back as his tongue lays flat against the hard nub then circles around it.

“Ahh..Hendery, that feels so good.”

He looks up at you through dark eyes then bites you.

You yelp and look down. 

“It’s ‘daddy’ to you.” His voice is grumbly and deep.

You nod. “Daddy, give me more please.” You look up, dewy-eyed.

Hendery sucks and pumps harder. His touch is aggressive, but you don’t want him to stop. Just as long as he was touching you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, I could just watch you all night.” He whispers into your chest then flicks his tongue over your breast again.

He pulls the other side down now, your breast popping out like it was begging to be released from its restrictive cloth covering.

You sat there on the counter, choking back moans and tightening your legs together as he continued to suck your breasts dry.

“Daddy..please..I need you..need you in me.”

Hendery squeezes your breast harder as you squeal.

“Stand up.” He demands while walking back to a stool in the bathroom and taking his jacket off.

He sits down onto it and pats his thigh. “Show me how you’ll ride my cock.”

You walk over to him and part your legs before sitting down and facing him.

He glared at you sternly, no trace of love rests in his gaze as he watches you like a hungry animal.

“No underwear.” He clicks his tongue when he feels your bare pussy resting on his clothed thigh.

You shake your head.

“What a whore you are, I can’t wait to do whatever I want with you.”

You bite your lip and start to move back and forth, you feel your clit begin to gain satisfaction.

You press down harder and hold onto his shoulder while grinding onto his thigh.

Your chest feels weak. You feel so good as friction comforts that one spot.

“Does it feel good?” He whispers with a straight face.

“Y-yes, daddy, so good.”

“Then stand up.”

Your face contorts in confusion.

“Be a good girl and stand up.”

You reluctantly leave his thigh and stand up.

He grabs your hip with one hand and looks up at you through his lashes. He reaches under your dress with his other hand and delivers a short, sharp slap to your dripping folds.

“Ah!” You cry out, but you don’t dare move.

He runs his hand over it now, caressing it to soothe the pain.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Mmmm so wet, sweetheart.” He licks his lips and delivers another blow.

You would’ve fallen forward had he not been holding you with his other hand.

“You’ve been tempting me all night with this slutty dress, did you think you would escape punishment?” He growls.

And slap after slap you felt your skin getting warm, but your wetness never failing to coat his fingers.

“Please..fuck me.” You exhale after he slaps you.

“Get on your knees.” 

You get on your knees and move to a position where you can suck his cock, but he shakes his head. 

“No no no..on all fours.”

The cold tile aggravates your knees but you ignore it and focus more on the aching in between your legs.

Hendery gets on the floor behind you and flips up the bottom half of your dress so it bunches up by your waist.

He places his hands onto your breasts while grinding his bulge against your ass.

“Fuck..daddy, please.”

He watches you fidget below him, your essence coating his dress pants as you lay there and take him just like that.

Your pussy quivers each time his bulge just barely presses onto it.

You breathe heavily and moan.

“Do you think you can take me, sweetheart?” You hear him zip his pants down. A sense of relief floods your body.

“Yes.”

“Without taking my fingers first?”

“Yes, daddy.”

You can feel his tip hit your thigh. You move backwards and closer to him, just to feel him closer to you, anything to feel him.

“No, no stay still.”

He slides a condom on and watches your ass perk up in the air in anticipation. Your beautiful folds drip before him.

You gasp as he runs his tip in between them to coat it with your slick.

He smirks and grabs your waist while burying into hard and deep.

Your body falls onto the tile, you cry out loudly from the pain of him suddenly stretching you out but he wraps an arm under you and picks you up.

“I said, stay still!” He grumbles out again but his tone is harsher, darker.

Your arms shake as you hold your body up and attempt to adjust to his length.

He was both wide and long, tears escaped your eyes as he slid into your tight opening.

“So..fucking tight..especially for a whore like you.”

You bite your lips to hold back an embarrassingly loud moan.

He slides in and out quicker and pulls your head back by grabbing your hair. “Why are you crying? Is it too big for you?”

He thrusts hard, making your ass cheeks shake against his hips and your mouth fall open. He was never this rough with you, you wondered why he sounded different.

He was also bigger than usual, you thought.

“Mmmm..n-no.”

He thrusts hard again, nestling himself deep within your walls and pushing against your insides.

He then pulls out completely before giving your ass a harsh slap. You fall onto the floor and cry out.

“No, what?!”

“No, daddy!”

He flips you over onto your back just so he can see your teary face and lips swollen from you biting them.

He licks his lips and goes back to sucking your breasts like he did before, only this time, his cock is passing against your silky walls.

You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch. 

Curse words leave your mouth as you are brought closer and closer to the edge.

He placed his hands on either side of your head and fucks into you from above while watching your breasts move with each thrust. His nails dig into your knees as he pushes them further apart, watching his long cock glide into your small opening like magic. The way you open up for him drives him crazy.

You’re so wet, he slips in and out with ease. 

“Should I let you cum?”

“Yes, daddy, please.” You licked your lips and watched the handsome man above you. He had loosened a few buttons but his hair, now free and wavy, dangled over your face.

He takes your hard nipples in between his fingers and pinches them. You arch your back and moan.

This all felt so wrong but so right. Him fucking you hard and into the new year on the bathroom floor while your father was just down stairs a few feet away. 

You came instantly, your body trembling as it clenched around him. Your eyes shut tightly, Hendery watched your jaw clenched and grabbed your chin.

“I didn’t tell you to cum, now I’ll have to go harder.” He growled out.

He fucked you hard, your back rubbing against the tile as he didn’t let up on his unforgiving thrusts.

“Too-too much, daddy.” You cried out as tears escaped your eyes again.

“That’s too fucking bad, you came without permission, so now you’re gonna take it,” he thrusted particularly hard with an emphasis on “take it.”

You moaned loudly and squirmed under him, but he held you still, his fingertips digging into your waist. You panted and cried as a burning feeling shot through your skin..

Hendery fucked you like some kind of animal with a crazy sex drive, placing your legs onto his shoulders and ripping some fabric from your expensive dress.

“Hendery! What the-“

“Shhh!! I want to see my cock fill you up, sweetheart. Want to see my little whore take all of me in.”

A smile creeped across his face.

You got up on your elbows and saw that his girthy penis really was poking through your stomach slightly.

“Fuck..so fucking good, daddy.”

Your hips started to hurt from your legs being open and spread out for so long, but Hendery didn’t care, you were all his tonight, and he was going to make sure you remembered that.

“Who were you walking home with after you left the art museum?”

Your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Why would he bring up something from a few months ago?

“The guy..I saw him take you home..what’s his name?”

He rubs your clit, making you disoriented.

“I don't know Hendery, I went home by myself that night.”

“Oh, don’t fucking lie to me, whore.” He places his hand around your throat and squeezes it.

You clench uncontrollably as your clit feels amazing with his thumb on it.

Hendery cums as you tighten around him unexpectedly. You release as well, his hand tightens even more around your throat. You see stars and shake. Your body feels weak, but Hendery doesn’t pull out or let your throat go.

He leans downward and kisses your lips.

He looks wild and different, his eyes are more intense with a red glow around them that you hadn’t seen before. He has purple and green veins bursting out from his forehead and neck also.

He chokes you while staring into your eyes and as you come down from your high, you notice that something is wrong.

He pulls his limp member out but lets it lay on your stomach.

“Tell me his fucking name!”

Your eyes grow. “Who are you talking about?!” You manage to utter out while slowly losing breath.

He lays a sloppy kiss onto your lips again then pulls away. “Do you want to know what Ten’s last words were?”

You grasped his shoulders. “Hendery, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, but it is, sweetheart..you should’ve seen the look of terror on his face when I held the knife above his head.”

Your mouth fell open, greeting Hendery’s as he laid another kiss. You struggled to push him off of you, so you bit his lip and crawled away from him.

Hendery kneeled on the ground and held his lip. A low chuckle escapes and it’s one that is horrifying.

“But baby, we were having so much fun, why did you do that?”

“Because you’re not funny! I’m leaving!” You stumble to your feet and fix your dress over your breasts.

You rush to the door but Hendery blocks it. You cower in fear. He doesn’t look like himself at all, he looks like some kind of monster with a wild look.

“Hendery? What’s wrong with you?”

“Hendery’s not here anymore.” The deep voice laughs out.

“Let me go.” You begin to tremble.

“Hendery had his fun, I think I deserve to have fun too.”

You were so confused as this monster takes Hendery over, but you quickly devise a plan.

You grab the soap dispenser behind you and quickly hit him in the head. He snarls out in pain but you have just enough time to push past him and out of the door.

You rush down the stairs and call out for help, but then you notice that the fireworks are going off. People are laughing and sharing drinks on the rooftop together.

You turn to head back up the stairs and to the rooftop to get help, but Hendery is already making his way down with an angry look on his face.

No one is in the mansion but you..and him.

You run out of the mansion as fast as you can, hoping that you can find anyone that could help you.

You felt pain in your hips from being stretched out but you ignored it. You were terrified as you heard him bolting after you with superhuman speed.

“Help!! Help me!!” You cried out but the streets were empty, everyone was celebrating the new year as beautiful and loud fireworks lit up the sky.

You continue to run and breathe heavily, you finally create a safe distance between yourself and him so you lean against the back of a wall and wait for him to pass.

He slows down when he no longer sees you..

“Sweetheart..it’s just me and you, now. Don’t worry about him!” Hendery’s normal voice calls out.

You tremble and cry in fear, but cover your mouth as he gets closer.

“What are you talking about? I’m still here, where is the little whore?” A darker voice says.

“She’s smart, we won’t find her.” The first voice says.

You’re confused, it’s as if two people are talking to each other, but it’s just Hendery.

“I can smell her..” the darker voice says.

“No!! No!! Leave her alone!” Hendery fights himself in the street alone, he goes crazy  while yelling and throwing himself around.

“But she’s mine!”

“Mr. Hyde..please just leave me alone..” Hendery falls to his knees and sobs in the middle of the street.

“I live inside you forever, Hendery, with Satan himself by my side.”

“No!!”

And then you only hear silence.

You peak out to see if he has left but to your surprise. He’s right there beside you, his crazy eyes glaring as he smiles.

“Found ya!”

You scream and run away and into the yard of a random house, you stumble into the shed and look around for anything you can use to protect yourself.

A bat.

You take the bat and walk around the yard. 

You see Hendery walking around the house. You take in a sharp breath then run up to him fast and swing as hard as you can.

His body falls to floor limply.

You drop the bat and cover your mouth, screaming once more as you look on the body of your strange lover.

———-

[1 Month Later]

You’re starting the spring semester at college, physically. You and your father both agreed that after what happened, it would be best for you to spend some time away.

You told your father about what had happened that night the next day. He told you that Hendery had threatened him and you both came to the conclusion that Hendery was suffering from some sort of psychological disorder. One that would allow him to kidnap and murder people.

Some missing people were found in the lab’s crematory room, but evidence showed that most victims were cremated. This amount of cremation filled the air with harmful toxins, the very same toxins that Hendery’s lab was responsible for getting rid of.

It was ironic, but now your father was happy that the killer was identified.

People no longer went missing.

All cases were closed.

Except for one, however.

Hendery’s body was never found.

[skylarmoon71]

Reverse Flash x Reader- Oneshot (Flash)

Dealing with this yellow suit wearing maniac was not how you thought you’d spend the night. As an ex citizen from Central city, you knew just about every villain that came out of the tragedy of the explosion. Every day a new one seems to arise, and since you liked having all your body parts as they were, you stayed caught up with the news.

That’s why you’d left the place for some much needed peace. 

Rockstone was quiet, and still pretty populated. It wasn’t that far away from Central City either, so you could still visit your family every now and then.

“You seem awfully calm for someone being threatened."

The dark haired male raised his vibrating hand, hoping to urge at least some kind of reaction. After being brought back and wiped from existence so many times, this time around he’d just been looking to have a little fun. Chasing Barry around was starting to get redundant. And then he supposed the hero had his own problems to deal with right about now.

He planned to stay as low key as possible until he could figure out what his next move was. So kidnapping an unsuspecting victim and forcing them to provide him shelter seemed like the best way to go.

“Not gonna lie, scared the shit outta me when you appeared out of that little portal. Really thought I dodged a bullet leaving CC. Just my luck.” you grumble. Sipping at your coffee, you adjusted your bag strap. “Sorry old man, got a job to get to so if you’ll excuse me.” you walk around him. It was already dark, and since you had a night shift at the university today, you really weren’t in the mood for this.

Your hair is taken with the whip of the wind, and it feels like a blink. Drink discarded on the ground, you stare in shock. He has you pinned to the wall, snare on his face, blue eyes emitting so much raw agitation. “I’d advise against mocking me.”

He’s started to vibrate, the red light overtaking his eyes.

“It’s not wise to test me.”

The echoing of his voice would bring any person to their knees in fear. The look in your eyes shifts from shock to annoyance. Your free hand is hanging at the side of your waist. You raise your palm, and he looks down just as a blue light shoots out. He’s gone once again, obviously not anticipating this. No longer forced up on the wall, you shrug your shoulders, straightening your shirt that was ruffled.

Eobard is now standing at a distance, intrigued. He halts his speed for a second to observe you. He’s positive he has no recollection of you. Being the evil genius that he is, he’s pretty much recorded all the villain metas in Central City. All those years travelling through time also played a big part in it. So why does he have no profile on you?

“Who are you?” He narrows his eyes, and all you provide is a smirk.

“I think you mean what.” You open both your palms, and your eyes are now emitting the same glow as your hands.

“Great.”

What in the world did he get himself into. He really had a knack for picking bad situations.

~Three Months Later~

“I could have just. “ He makes a hand motion, and you don't need to even guess what he means. This guy. You'd just been telling him about your experience yesterday with one of your peers.

“Now now, don’t make me put you to sleep again Bardy-poo. “ You could tell from his facial expression that the name was anything but desired.

“How long do you intend to keep me hostage?” you scoffed at his statement.

“Hostage, I’d like to think of it as a gracious service to society. “

Eobard was still glaring in your direction.

Running into you that night was such terrible luck on his part. He really thought he’d be lucky this time around, but he was dead wrong. You were unlike anything or one he’d ever met. Certainly not a meta. Since you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your origin, there wasn’t much to go on. What he did know is that every time he attempted to do something even remotely evil, you knew about it.

His powers also had very little effect on you. Trying on many occasions to drill a hand through your chest with no luck. You had him mentally and physically subdued. What’s even worse is he was trying to avoid time travelling, cause that would catch Barry’s attention, and the prospect of the male finding him was even less appealing. With nowhere to go, and you keeping him on a tight watch, his only option was to stick around.

It wasn’t like he was completely stranded. He had means to get by for moments like this. With his abilities he could take whatever he wanted without so much as a flinch. You apparently didn’t care much for his little adventures as long as no one got dead. For all intents and purposes, he was a free man, minus the unnamed being keeping him on a leash.

“I can feel you plotting from all the way over here. Something you’d like to share with the class?”

“Will you remove the bind?” He asked. You click your tongue.

“You know I can’t do that. Evil villain and all. I wouldn't sleep very well if I knew you were out there impaling civilians. “

His eyes were still marking you, and you shifted, brows knitting.

“Well...I’m gonna go because that look is a bit off putting.”

Moving to pick up your cup of coffee and head for the door, you’re once again trapped between the speedster and the wall. You’re about to give him another snarky retort, but you become a little distracted by how deliciously rosy his lips are.

You divert your eyes quickly before your mind can stray any further. He doesn’t speak for a moment, and for a second you almost think he’s trapped in the same haze you are. He’d obviously prepared something diabolical to say, but like some of your most recent interactions, his usual malicious intent is missing.

“So, you're gonna say something or are you trying to relive some Korean drama scene."

He blinks, then takes notice of the position. You’re a bit confused at the lost look on his face. If you didn’t know any better you would have said he didn’t intend to do that. Taking a step back, the coldness returns to his eyes, and just like that he takes off. You release a breath.

“It’s getting harder.”

This little ploy was becoming difficult to keep up. If he ever figured it out you’re not sure what his reaction will be. Your reason for doing this has greatly changed from the beginning.

~~~~~~

The little mental battle has been going on all day.

You could barely focus on anything even when you were teaching your criminology class. That night walking to your door, you felt heavy. Not just from the secret you were keeping from Eobard, but also the feelings you’d lectured yourself not to grow.

The dark haired male is not a good man. You keep telling yourself that. But you’d hope that these months being around you would change that. He hadn’t hurt anyone since his arrival. You honestly thought that you could change him for the better. Opening the door, you step in. The area is silent, and it sort of makes you a tad bit suspicious.

“Eo-”

“Good evening.” You jump, glaring in his direction as you push the door close. He’s sitting on the couch casually like he didn’t just scare the shit out of you.

“Geez don’t do that!!”

He’s once again strutting that stupid smirk.

“It’s uncomfortable isn’t it, when things happen that we have no control over. Surprises.” you squint.

“Why do I feel like that has some alternate meaning."

He’s dressed in dark clothing, glasses perched on his nose. Everything about his body language tells you something is up. With his attention now fixed on you, the bag in your hand is placed on the counter. You’re preparing for anything. As you’ve realized Eobard is very unpredictable.

“I’m done playing your game, release me at once. “

Trying not to pay much mind to his request, you walk past him.

“Come on, we've been at this for months. I can’t let you go on a rampage. Innocent lives and all. If you really wanna blame someone then blame yourself. What are the odds that out of all of the people here you decided to grab me right?” you laugh, but you don’t receive any in return.

“You’re under the impression that this is a game.”

Eobard knows there’s no harm he can inflict on your body, doesn’t mean his actions don’t make you nervous. He approaches slowly, but with purpose. With your back now to the fridge, you try to move to an area where you won’t feel as trapped. Eobard in no way allows this. His hands press into the cool surface of the fridge.

“Y-You know this fetish you seem to have with pushing me against stuff is getting kind of old.” Who were you kidding, shit was driving you mad.

“You can’t keep me here.”

There was no humor in his voice. Just flat out hostility. Yet he wasn’t emitting the anger you knew he had inside. Just because he couldn’t kill you didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt you. You’re positive he’s realized that by now. The prospect of him leaving, somehow it caused an ache in your heart. Eyes connected, it was impossible for you not to look so vulnerable.

“I-If you really want to leave then just go.” you willed your body not to shake, but it was becoming difficult to even keep your tears at bay. “Are you toying with me?” He clenched his fist.

You shook your head, lowering your eyes. Why did you have to feel guilty for keeping the truth from him. The guy wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen. “I’m not. You can leave Eobard. “

His eyes grew a little wide at the information. 

“I’m not a witch, or a metahuman. I’m just a mutant.” you state. 

“It’s how I’m able to produce barriers like the one I placed on you. It can only be sustained for a maximum of three weeks. It’s taken me years to get to that point of control. You just assumed I always had the barrier up after a month, and I never corrected you because I was trying to keep people safe.”

That wasn’t your only reason.

This entire time he’d been trying to solve your mystery when the answer was right in front of him. It still made no sense. Why didn’t he leave?

“The only reason you’re still here is because you want to be.” Eobard took a step back.

“That can’t be right, why would I want to be stuck in this wretched town.”

All you offer is a smile. At the back of your mind you hope it’s because he’s grown closer to you than he wants to admit.

“I’ve been wondering the same for weeks now. “

You aren’t sure what else can be said. Thankfully you haven’t started breaking down. You sort of want him to leave so you can have the privacy to do so. You take a breath, forcing a confident smile on your face. “Well the cat’s out of the bag so I guess this is goodbye. Just because I can’t hold you doesn’t mean I won’t know when you’re causing mayhem. Better not fall back to your old ways.”

You refuse to look him in the eye, so you have no idea what kind of expression he’s wearing.

Eobard steps forward and grabs your arm.

“Wha-” your swept right off your feet, and you grunt when your back suddenly comes in contact with the softness of your mattress. Eobard is hovering over your body, and you realize he’s just taken you into the bedroom without so much as an explanation. Not just that, but the hunger behind those dark rimmed glasses is enough to turn you into putty.

“W-What are you doing!!”

“Testing a theory.”

“The fu-” His lips collide with yours and your eyebrows shoot up. If you had expected something, it wasn’t this. His entire body is now pressed into you. You’ve held your breath, whimpering.

This is bad, wrong even. His hands are pressed into the mattress, as he shows no signs of moving, or slowing down. His lips are moving eagerly against yours, and at some point your body has started to respond. You reach up, grabbing a fistful of his black shirt, forcing him closer. Your kisses are desperate now, and raw. One of his hands lands on your thigh, trailing up your leg. Because you’re wearing a dress, you can feel his palm against your skin. You moan, and he takes full advantage, slipping his tongue in.

“So good..”

He tastes amazing. His kisses are even more incredible. If you never came up for air that would be too soon. Eobard parts for the breath you are both in need of. Sapphire orbs have changed to navy, and it elects another needy moan from you. His hand is still on your thigh, caressing the skin teasingly. He’s so close to where you need him the most. Eobard takes pleasure in your soft cries. Now it all makes sense. The reason behind your need to keep him there, his apparent unconscious reluctance to leave you.

“Delicious.”

He licks his lips, pulling off his glasses and tossing them overhead.

“I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. “ You gulp.

Did you?

His lips hover over yours and the logical part of your brain has vanished. You lean up to connect, but he’s keeping you at a distance with that stupidly sexy smirk on his face."

”It appears I’m the one who has you bind now. “

What an unusual turn of events.

Not that you’re complaining.

[ecliptsukki]

a turned spirit ❧ bakugou katsuki / ground zero

navigation | music

➣ genre: angst

➣ warnings: villian!baku, unrequited love

➣ request: bakugou Is fighting the reader and the reader Kiss him to distract him to escape ( Sidenote have you ever watch Jennifers body

➣ a/n: hi, anon! unfortunately, i’ve never watched jennifer’s body but i have seen a few scenes before. if your request is correlated to the movie, i’m so sorry if the fic doesn’t turn out the way you want :((( also! since bakubro’s birthday is today (in the us), i decided to write a fic for him and so i saw this request! i tried to post it yesterday, but i got occupied with homework :/// if the center of the fic sounds like word spew, it probably is because it spaced out in the middle of writing it lmao. i promise i will work on the other requests waiting in my inbox, i just need time. thank you and enjoy!!!

Sirens were going off throughout the city; dark clouds of smoke wafted in the air. Some citizens were being calmly evacuated to a safer location, whereas others were watching the pro heroes fight the villain. 

A loud boom echoed through the streets of the city, attracting everyone’s attention. A flash of orange flames lit up the sky, followed by a hoarse shout. 

You would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, be it in your sleep or in a loud, crowded room. 

Oh how you wished you had Deku with you as of now.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou!” You and your classmates jumped out of their hiding spots, surprising the hot-headed peer.

He gave the group of you an unimpressed stare, hands shoved in the pockets of his low-waisted pants. The blonde gave the decorated room a once over before grunting a quiet thanks of appreciation.

“No need to be such a tsundere, Baku-bro,” Kaminari chirped, nudging Bakugou with his shoulder.

“Fuck off, Pikachu,” the black-clothing-clad boy grumbled.

“Cheer up, Bakugou! It’s your birthday, and everyone here set this up for you!” Kirishima placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Everyone else in the class had began to roam the snack table or dance with each other to Jirou’s live music. You, on the other hand, held a neatly wrapped gift in your arms, collecting the courage to approach and give Bakugou the gift yourself.

Watching as the blonde sat himself onto the plush cushions of the common room’s couch, your feet carried you over to him, forcing you into one reality.

“What do you want?” His gruff voice spoke, staring at your frozen figure.

Lips trembling, you decided your actions would speak louder than your words, at the moment. Your arm stuck out, handing the gift to Bakugou. He looked at you, then the gift, gently grabbing the box away from you.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Internally panicking, you simply nod and hum, eyes focused on your feet. You scurry away as soon as you could, attempting to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks.

Unbeknownst to you, Bakugou was watching your frantic figure gather some water to cool yourself down. 

Cute, he thought, looking down at the custom-made, Ground Zero wrapping paper you used for his gift.

The sound of explosions neared you and the other pro heroes. Some heroes were too injured to fight or were helping the police escort the citizens away faster. Coincidentally, you were the only one who could fight. Luckily, unlike the other heroes, you already had experience fighting the inevitable explosion man.

“Go! Take them as far from here as possible. I’ll try to hold him back,” you shouted at the escapees and your fellow heroes.

You ran forward, closing in on the sound of explosions. You caught a glimpse of the smoke and orange flames and moved to get in closer range of them.

Once you could see the muscular man shooting through the sky, you activated your quirk, attracting his attention to you.

“Well if it isn’t my least favorite UA girl,” his voice echoed down the street.

“Bakugou,” you spoke in a low tone.

“How’s it going, L/N? I see you’re one of the top pro heroes now,” he smirks, little sparks lighting from his palms.

“You could’ve been one too,” you responded, ignoring his question.

“Yeah, I could’ve, but why tie myself down to boring rules?” 

The two of you were walking in circles, neither one willing to turn their backs.

“What about your dream of being stronger and better than All Might?” You brought up his childhood dream, hoping to draw out more time.

“Can’t you see? I am better than All Might. My power is unlimited,” he cackled.

You gulped, frowning at the man ahead of you. His appearance didn’t change much in comparison to when he was a high schooler. Now, he was the shell of someone you had fallen for once.

Scoffing, he spoke, “As much as I’d like to let you stall more time, I’ve got some people to show my power to.”

Seeing as he was ready to boost himself away, you ran towards him, grabbing his arm and trying to pin him to the floor. You wrapped your legs around his waist, legs coming down from behind him, knocking his knees down. Since he was on his knees, you swung yourself around him and pushed him onto his chest, cheek squashed against the floor. You pulled both his arms back, trying to pry his grenade gauntlet off of him.

With you straddling his back, you could feel him chuckle from underneath you, “You really think you can take those off? They were designed so that only I could take them off on my own accord.”

You ignored him, straining to pull of the big and heavy items. It was like taking them off would release him from some imaginary spell you thought up in your mind, like it would liberate your chained heart and he would come back.

Bakugou could feel your efforts beginning to weaken and took the opportunity to his advantage. With a slight roll of his shoulder, he managed to use the gauntlet’s weight to escape your grasp.

With you stuck in a heartbroken haze, you were too late to realize the villain overpowering you until you were the one under him. You stared into his scintillating ruby eyes, searching for even a fraction of the classmate you had mourned over losing. Tears pricked your own E/C eyes, spilling down your flushed cheeks.

For a moment, the blonde’s aggressive façade had faltered, his eyes quivering at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. It was only when he heard the sound of a building collapsing on its weak infrastructure did he warn you once more.

“I suggest you get out of here before I have to hurt you,” he growled lowly, dismissing the bitter taste the words had left in his mouth.

Your mind was telling your body to move, to get up and fight, but your heart was telling you to stay, forcing you to gaze at his complexion much too long.

“No,” you whimpered, unconsciously. Your head shook, hand grabbing onto one of the man’s large wrist that was pinning you down. “Come back. I can- We can help you.” 

You were at your wits end, fighting against a once potential number one pro hero and an unrequited love. 

He harshly ripped himself out of your grasp, spitting out, “I don’t need your help.”

That was enough for you to accept the reality of the situation. Bakugou Katsuki was long gone; Ground Zero was no longer a hero. You must protect this beloved city and its people.

Glancing at the big city hall clock, you realize you’d stalled just about the perfect amount of time for the citizens to escape, meaning all you needed to do was hold Ground Zero back a little longer to ensure he wouldn’t locate the safe house.

Running full speed at the man ahead of you, you dropped to your side, sliding between his legs and flipping up to kick him to the floor. You could hear him elicit a dark chuckle before turning over and firing his blast at you. Fortunately, you were able to hop off of him and put some distance between the two of you.

You knew both close combat and long-range combat wouldn’t work on him. He was fully equipped when it came to his quirk. You, on the other hand, preferred to depend on your combat skills, and unlike Deku, your quirk didn’t increase the amount of force or strength in your attacks.

While you were busy thinking up a plan of escape, you felt your phone vibrate in its compartment in your bodysuit. Bakugou must’ve noticed your relaxed disposition because he began to charge at you, attacking you on all sides, leaving you trapped dodging his explosions.

“I guess some measly pro hero could be a good reward to bring back in replace of their lives,” he shouted, hands bombarding your space.

Your state of mind was panicked. You didn’t know how you were going to beat him, let alone escape. Only one idea popped in your head at that moment, and oh, how you despised it. Your thoughts screamed: “It’s not going to work!” “That only works in cliches!” “Oh my god, are you stupid?” Nevertheless, you had no other plans, no other ideas.

Finding a convenient opening, you leaned in smashing your lips against his, causing him to immediately freeze in his spot. The pink, cracked lips pressed against yours felt like it was out of a fantasy. No, his lips weren’t perfect and soft like a prince in shining armor’s, but his were with meaning: a tragic story made of his life that led to that exact moment.

Pulling away, you spared him one last glance before running out of his sight. He didn’t chase after you. He couldn’t because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t want to leave your side ever again, but he didn’t want the tied down life of a “savior” or a “hero.” Besides, there’s no way he would be accepted as a hero and let roam freely after all the chaos and havoc he’d caused.

Once a villain, always a villain... at least that was what society believed.

The two of you had different destinies with the lines of dark and light. Alas, there was no in between for you to share and no way to turn back the tables called time.

[obsessive-dumpling]

Mini Fic

Meant to post this before Wednesday but didn’t have enough time! But I wrote this little doodle for my beautiful moot @hoe-doroki she deserves better but this is all my brainrot could muster. (Sorry doll)

Please enjoy this mini fic of Izuku, in his sleep deprived state, trying to figure out how to address Kacchan’s apology.

It was a blur. All the people who came up to check on Izuku, being ushered this way and that. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, or that he wasn't happy to see so many faces he missed, he was just exhausted. The adrenaline long since run out, and in its place was just the sheer weight of it all. Not to mention, the additional weight of doubt over simply being there. But even tired and distracted as he was, he wasn't oblivious. 

Or maybe a better way to put it, is that he could never miss something that he never looked away from to begin with. His eyes always automatically scanning and landing on blonde. If we wanted to consider this one of his parallel processes, then it would probably be his first. Always looking to Kacchan, automatically fixing on where he was. He had done it his whole life, and though he was sure the other boy knew of this, he never seemed to acknowledge or participate. 

Until now. 

No matter how the crowd jostled Izuku, pulling him from talking to the citizens, then the heroes, then Recovery girl, then being brough back to the dorms, spikey blonde hair never once left his peripheral. Before UA, it was as if Bakugo Katsuki simply marked north, and Izuku would align himself to it. His former friend’s back the needle guiding him. During their time at UA, that metaphor shifted as they learned to work together again. Making it seem more like being attached by a bungee cord than someone following a compass by themself. If Kacchan pulled one way, Izuku was forced to follow and vice versa. But this? 

This felt more like a dance. As Izuku moved, Katsuki moved, but it wasn't forceful. It felt more natural. Izuku, and his second natured awareness of the other found himself shifting every time he was moved, keeping his body pointed towards the other. This wasn't new, he had been doing it since the compass phase. What was new was the fact that Katsuki was doing the same. His movements were almost unnoticeable but always ended with his body pointed towards Izuku, and usually no more than an arm's length away. With the exception of when his mom finally dragged him to the dorm showers to get cleaned up. Even then though, when he came out, Kacchan was standing near the door. Somehow Izuku knew, he had been there the whole time.  

“Now, I don't expect this to change a thing between us, but I gotta speak... my truth.”

The words rang through his mind.

“Izuku... I'm sorry for everything.“

Izuku..

Izuku.

"Izuku!" 

"Huh, what?!" He shook his head and looked at his mother, whose eyes were wide with worry. "Sorry, I must have spaced out." 

He rubbed the back of his neck and allowed himself to use the opportunity to glance over his shoulder, hoping to still find the blonde hair in his sights. They sat in the dorm kitchen to eat before his mother would allow him to go sleep. When he looked over his shoulder though, he was met with red eyes already on him. He lowered his arm but held his gaze. Neither looked as if they were going to look away. Or even that they wanted to for that matter. Both just stared, with quiet resolution.

“I knew he would bring you home,” Izuku’s mother spoke softly, her voice pulled him away for a moment to look back at her. “It was in his eyes.” 

Izuku didn’t know what to say to that. Just like he didn’t know what to say to Kacchan. His mother saw his lack of answer and smiled.

“You’ll get there,” she continued in her hushed tone. “It’s in your eyes too.”

His eyebrows pulled together, he didn’t know what that meant. He looked over his shoulder again, only to find that Kacchan was gone. Panic built in his stomach, as his eyes scanned the room. Why am I panicking? He thought to himself. Class-A milled about as they “celebrated” their successful retrieval mission simply with some time spent together. But there was no Kacchan.

“You should get some sleep, nerd.” A low voice said next to him. He whirled around just to find Kacchan leaning over him to pick up his and his mother’s plates.

“Oh, thank you Katsuki,” Inko smiled at him, but stood and took the plates from his hands. “You should get some sleep too though.” He looked back at her for a moment, they seemed to share a silent conversation. In the end he shrugged and turned to walk towards the staircase, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly as he passed Izuku. Izuku stared after him.

“Now, I don't expect this to change a thing between us,”

But how can it not? Izuku thought. And what if I want it to?

Izuku stood abruptly when the door to the stairwell swung shut, cutting his sight of the other off.

“Maybe you should go upstairs too,” his mother spoke next to him. “I’ll tell everyone you said goodnight.” She winked at him. He leaned down and quickly kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispered and made his way quietly to the elevator. He waited for the doors to open and when they did he jammed his thumb into the number four button.

“Izuku... I'm sorry for everything.“

I don’t know what to say to that! I never expected an apology! I never wanted an apology! I forgave you along time ago! Did you not see that?

The doors closed and he felt the elevator starting to move.

“but I gotta speak... my truth.”

No, of course you did. Just like I saw you trying to atone. We always see each other, don’t we? But we never say anything! We’re always missing each other.

The elevator dinged and Izuku staggered off, the exhaustion slightly over taking him now. But he stumbled on down the hall, letting his sleep deprivation fill him with bravery, until he faced the second to last door on the right with the gold name plate that read “Bakugou”.

“Izuku...”

I don’t really know what I want to say yet, but I know what I want to hear, and I know who I want to see!

He took a deep breath and raised his fist to knock on the door.

“Izuku…?”

That was too loud to be in his head.

He whirled around for a second time and feared for a moment that he might get whiplash. The thought washed out of his mind as quickly as it appeared though as he faced surprised red eyes. There was silence for a long moment as they stared at each other. Finally, his mom’s voice rang through his head:

“It was in his eyes.”

“Again.” Izuku spoke firmly. He watched as surprise changed to confusion.

“What?”

“Say it again.” The confusion deepened for a beat before suddenly blossoming into understanding.

“Izuku…” The corners of Izuku’s mouth twitched but he held back his smile.

“Again.” Katsuki raised an eyebrow but obliged.

“Izuku,” He spoke with less hesitancy.

Izuku swallowed unsure of how far he could push his luck telling Kacchan what to do. Something told him though, that he could push this pretty far if he wanted to. Unsatisfied with the current results, he continued.

“Again.” He said taking a step towards Kacchan, who immediately stood straighter.

“Izuku.” He finally said with complete confidence and also took a step forward, leaving only one step between them.

Izuku couldn’t contain it any longer, he let go of the sun flare smile he had held back and a fresh new set of tears all at once.

“I gotta speak my truth too,” he choked out. “Kacchan, I---” his eyes became heavier than he was expecting with the tears. They slid shut and he slid forward, closing the gap.

Katsuki caught him quickly and turned him to see his face. Izuku had finally fallen asleep.

A vein pulsed in Katsuki’s forehead.

Are you kidding me? How are you going to pass out at a time like this? He thought to himself.

Unconscious, Izuku turned further into his arms. Katsuki froze until he settled again.

“Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled. Katsuki leaned forward. “I’m home.”

With no one around, a single tear rolled down Katsuki’s face as he slowly bent down and scooped Izuku up under the knees. He fumbled with the doorknob, walked in quietly, and closed the door behind him. He gently laid him on the bed so he could finally sleep, safe, and where he could see him.

Ya know what? I can wait.

“Welcome home, Izuku.”  

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Other Side

Part One

Genre: KSJ Soulmate au

Warnings: none

Word Count: 8.7k

What is tachycardia?

Tachycardia: abnormally high heart rate

Causes: exercise, stress, anxiety, fear, anger, or love

Ventricular tachycardia: may be life threatening; please see: “soulmate”

Since I could begin to retain information around the age of four, I have been taught one thing over and over again.

Soulmates = mortal danger.

Granted, I wasn't the only one who was taught this. I wasn’t raised in some strange cult or taught that love was discouraged.

No, actually. It’s just a part of life.

Soulmates are commonplace, my own parents being an example of that. The world we live in is riddled with beautiful contradictions, one of the most prominent of all those lovely contradictions being the existence of soulmates.

There is no fancy system put into place, no timer or thread of fate that ties us together. There’s really no way of knowing who or when or where you’ll meet the person that is supposed to complete you and bring joy to your life.

I’m sure there’s some sort of way that fate decides when, seeing as the majority of people meet at a fairly young age. The number of soulmates that meet over the age of fifty are few; although it’s been known to happen a couple of times among senior citizens placed into nursing homes.

Soulmates are the sole reason that most children can pronounce the word “tachycardia” before they reach the age of seven.

Tachycardia typically isn’t fatal, it’s something people tend to experience quite often when the circumstances change. Out on a run? You’re probably experiencing tachycardia. Terrified that there’s a burglar in the house? Yep, tachycardia coming right up.

Have you just stumbled across your soulmate for the first time? Tachycardia in its most extreme form will hit you like a brick wall in just a second.

“Who can tell me what the first response you should have when you see that someone has made contact with their soulmate?”

A flurry of hands fly up to the sky, my own included. The steps are rushing around in my brain, just begging to be let out.

“Haneul?” I’m called on and fight a smile as I answer my instructor’s question.

“First, move one of them to a separate room. Place a door between them if possible, and then call 911 if there are no soulmate assistants available.”

My instructor nods, smiling warmly at me. “Exactly. Now can somebody go through the calming exercises step by step…”

Somebody nudges my side, and I turn to see my friend and fellow applicant, Yuri, smiling at me.

“You’re totally getting in,” she whispers to me.

I roll my eyes. “Just because I answered one question right?”

“He remembered your name...that definitely means something.”

Turning my attention back to the front before we’re caught whispering, I entertain the idea before kicking it out. It’s best to not think about it too much, I can’t look like I’m bored or not paying attention. This is too important a day to give a bad impression. The sigil on the instructor’s shirt only serves as a reminder.

The Bighit entertainment logo stands out like a beacon as the instructor moves about, calling up a couple of applicants to demonstrate how to properly restrain someone without hurting them.

His movements call attention to the yellow circle below the Bighit logo, the color that marks him as a ‘soulmate assistant’. Basically just a fancy word for someone who has to make sure if an idol accidentally meets a soulmate at a concert or any other event, nobody dies.

Everyone goes home happy. Alive, and newly bonded.

And if I get this job, that means I’ll go home happy and paid. That’s all I could ever want, isn’t it?

If we’re being completely honest, being hired on as a professional soulmate assistant for Bighit or any other big agency would be a dream come true for someone like me. I would get to travel, meet new people, all the while receiving a steady paycheck while attending concerts for free.

Sure, it’s a tough job. It requires constant vigilance; a single yawn at the wrong time could mean disaster. Which is part of the reason why my parents thought I was a bit crazy wanting to go into such a profession. They backed off a little once I showed them what kind of money I’d be in for, though.

All of it has led to this moment: going through one final walkthrough before we’re called in for individual interviews and eventually left to leave things up to fate. It’s a pretty big deal to have even made it this far. The actual interview process with the soulmate board of Bighit entertainment is rigorous, eventually leading to a one on one interview with one of the managers of either TXT or BTS.

Our group that started off with just over 200 applicants has been filed down to ten. Tensions are high, Yuri’s near constant fidgeting is a sure sign of that.

Ten remain, but only two will be hired on. One for BTS, and one for TXT.

Not gonna lie, I’m hoping I’m getting interviewed for TXT. I have a hunch that Yeonjun, Beomgyu and I would get along great.

Not that I’m picking favorites.

Our small overview comes to an end, the instructor getting to the part we’ve all been waiting for.

“If you’ll remain here for a few minutes, we’ll be pulling a few of you in for interviews. Remember, if you don’t get interviewed today that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Don’t overthink it too much.”

The instructor leaves the room, and a collective sigh goes throughout our small group. Yuri is bouncing her knee, keeping her eyes planted on the wall in front of her. All I can do is wait, I suppose.

Life is cruel that way. It’s the same way with soulmates. All there is to do is wait. Live life as if you aren’t waiting for that one heartstopping (or rather, heartstarting), moment in which you come face to face with the person fate has decided will love you better than anyone else on earth.

It would be foolish of me to say that everyday for the past four years I haven’t entered my classes on campus or any restaurant holding my breath in hopes that today would be the day. College campuses are a kind of hotspot for soulmate activity; one of my trainings was actually spent just shadowing different classes and waiting for something to happen. It was my first hands-on training, and it only lasted a week.

In a single week I assisted in four different soulmate placings.

And that was in the middle of midterms; when the odds of meeting your soulmate are fairly low because stress levels are high. People are less likely to mingle with different groups of people, if they even bother to look up from their textbooks at all. So needless to say I was always waiting for it to happen.

Always waiting, never experiencing. It’s safe to say that after I graduated both my parents and I were a bit disappointed. While it’s not necessarily uncommon for people to reach college graduation age without a soulmate, it’s also an instant way to get everyone to pity you.

Sure, I wallowed for a while in self-pity. However, once I set my mind on pursuing a career in soulmate assisting within an idol group, I was an unstoppable force. And as for finding my soulmate? I used the possibility of working for Bighit as another way to make my parents feel better about their lack of a son-in-law.

If I get the job, I’ll be traveling the world. The chances of me meeting my soulmate would surely skyrocket.

“Choi Haneul?”

I jerk out of my stupor to see the instructor waving me over. Yuri gives me a light nudge, smiling at me encouragingly as I make my way over to the door with a pounding heart.

Fun fact: many people panic and think they’re experiencing what are referred to as “soulmate spikes” the second they start to feel a spike in their heart rate. 9.9/10 times they’re wrong. One way to tell if you really are experiencing soulmate spikes (the initial spike in heart rate upon seeing your soulmate) is if you’re also experiencing intense tunnel vision.

The instructor gives me a curt nod, refusing to give anything away. He simply escorts me down the hallway and into a room where someone is looking over some papers.

Sejin, manager of BTS.

Maybe he’ll pass me along to TXT if he thinks I’d vibe better with them? No, I think to myself. There’s no way I’m about to undermine myself.

“Choi Haneul?” Sejin asks me, a light smile on his face as he looks up at me. I nod, unsure of whether or not I should even say anything. “Please, take a seat.”

The instructor closes the door behind him as he leaves, and suddenly I’m alone with someone I never realized could be perceived as intimidating.

“It’s very nice to meet you, I’m Sejin.”

I nod, fighting a sarcastic chuckle. Does he actually think I don’t know who he is, or is he just being polite? “I’m Haneul, thank you for having me.”

Sejin smiles again, looking back down at his papers. “Of course. Now, this probably won’t be a very long interview. Your stats speak for themselves.” He waves the paper in the air, and I see my application form as well as my transcripts from college. “I do just have a few questions for you, if that’s alright?”

“Of course.” I put pressure on my legs, reminding myself to keep still.

“Wonderful. First off, how comfortable are you with constantly being in new environments and having to adapt to an idol’s schedule? It’s a rigorous one.”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek I process the question. “I wouldn’t say that I’m very comfortable at all.”

Sejin’s eyes grow wide, but he proceeds. “And why is that?”

“I wouldn’t want to grow comfortable with it. That would draw away my attention from my job, and my job pretty much depends upon me remaining alert at all times. Now, could I adapt to the schedule? Without a doubt.”

Sejin gives a small chuckle, leaning back against his seat. “Huh. Interesting.”

☆

“C’mon, we have to celebrate!” Yuri bounces up and down, practically glowing. “I can’t believe we both got interviewed!”

I smile along with her, still a little giddy. “Yeah, but don’t you think that’s a little premature? It was just an interview, after all. The really important part is if they call you after.”

“Whatever, don’t you want to celebrate with me? I never thought I’d make it past the first week.”

That I can definitely agree with. It’s a competitive field for sure, and the agency does its best to weed out the weak. For good reason, obviously. Nearly half of the applicants the first week in were fangirls hoping they would match up with one of the idols they might work with. And the other half? Those were the ones who quickly realized that they weren’t crazy enough to want a job that required excessive time and effort.

“Alright, where do you want to go?”

Yuri jumps in place making me laugh. Dragging me along behind her, we take the first taxi we can find. The streets of Seoul are filling up now that the evening is coming along. It’s a Friday night; everybody is going to be out and about, celebrating the end of another week.

When we make it to the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that the two of us have frequented a little too much over the past few months, there’s a fairly large crowd mulling about. We squeeze into a booth after paying for our food, finally able to eat without feeling like I’m going to throw up from the stress.

“Wow, is it just me or does this taste even better now?” Yuri looks up at me with wide eyes and full mouth.

“Is it just me or do you look like a gopher right now?”

If it wasn’t for the piles of food between us I’m sure she would have smacked me. She settles for a quick kick to the shin instead. Hissing at her, she offers me a sweet smile.

“So what’s Sejin like? He’s always seemed like a sweet little teddy bear to me.” Yuri asks before shoving more food into her mouth.

I shrug, thinking back over my interview. The entire thing probably only lasted about 20 minutes, but I think it went well. “He’s nice. Professional, but he honestly wasn’t that grueling. He just said my stats pretty much did all the talking. I think he was just trying to see if I was crazy or not.”

Yuri snorts, nodding along. “Same. Do you think you passed the crazy test?”

“Too soon to tell.”

We delve back into our food, talking more about our interviews. Despite the huge unanswered question hanging between us, did we make it?, the stress from earlier has dissipated. There’s nothing left to do except wait. I feel satisfied with all the work I’ve put in; there’s not a lot more I could’ve done.

It’s the sound of someone’s phone ringing that has us pausing. We look at each other with wide eyes, but there’s no way they’ve already made their decision-

“It’s just my mom,” Yuri sighs out as she brings the phone to her ear. She chats with her mother for a few minutes, reassuring her that everything went well today. I mindlessly push my food around, the sound of Yuri’s ringtone put me on edge for a moment. They definitely won’t call tonight. We just finished!

“What did your mom say?” I ask once she hangs up. Yuri shrugs.

“Just wanted to know if I was interviewed. She said she’s rooting for the both of us, she seemed pretty relieved that we’re not going for the same position.”

That’s right. While I was pulled in for an interview with Sejin, Yuri was pulled in for an interview with TXT’s managers. As far as we’re concerned, we’re now contending for our spots as soulmate assistants to two different groups. And considering that each group is only looking for 1 assistant, it’s pretty competitive. The instructor did say there was a small chance of hiring two per group, just depending on their needs. One of those would only be a part-time assistant though. Definitely not the ideal position.

“Yeah, same here-”

Yuri’s phone lights up again, and this time there is no sigh of relief as she sees who’s calling.

Looking up at me with wide eyes, she looks like she might throw up all the food we just ate. “It’s the agency.”

Gasping aloud, I drop my chopsticks and wave at her to hurry. “Answer it! Quick!” Yuri gives me a terrified look before slowly bringing the phone up to her ear. I chew on my lip as I watch her expression change from terrified to startled.

“R-really? That’s great news!” Yuri bounces up and down in her seat, and I mirror her movement. “Of course! 9am? Sounds perfect...I’ll be there! Thank you so much!”

She drops her phone on the table as she pants. “...so?” I ask her, and she grins up at me.

“I got the job!”

We both scream a little louder than necessary, the people sitting in the both across from us glaring in our direction. “No way! That was so fast!”

She nods, running her hands through her hair. “I know! They just said the decision was easier to make than they expected, seeing as I have the most experience out of the people they interviewed. I’m supposed to head in tomorrow to go over the contract and get to work.”

There’s a little twist of uncertainty in the pit of my stomach as I realize that Yuri was hired within a matter of hours. What does that mean for me?

“That’s amazing, Yuri. I’m so proud of you.”

She shakes her head, unable to stop smiling. “I’ve got to call my mom, should we head out?” I nod, following her out of the restaurant. She’s practically skipping to a taxi, waving it over. I laugh at her behavior.

“I can’t believe it though. Make sure you tell Yeonjun that we’re meant to be best friends.”

Yuri slides into the taxi, and I follow after her. She fixes me with a dazed smile as she gives directions to her apartment. We live in the same complex, so it’s easy to go anywhere with her.

“I’ll be sure to tell him. Who knows, maybe the two of you are soulmates!” Yuri winks at me even as I cringe.

“No way, he’s way too young for me.”

Rolling her eyes, Yuri manages to get one more comment out before her mother answers the phone. “Whatever, you’re only like what? Three years older? Mom! Guess what!”

By the time we make it to our apartments Yuri is still gushing to her mom on the phone. My own parents texted me, I just responded and told them I was interviewed. Their obvious excitement over making the interview fails to buoy me up, though. Not when I’m becoming more and more convinced that I’m not going to be receiving a call tonight.

Perhaps I’ll wake up to a consolation email in the morning, thanking me for my time and sending me on my way.

Yuri invites me over to her apartment to continue in the celebrations, but I opt out of it. She frowns, about to apologize or something but I speak up before she can. I don’t want any apologies; not yet. That makes it seem like it’s really over.

“My parents are begging me to call them and you know how long they can talk for,” I say, backing away. “I’d better go call them now so I can still get to sleep at a decent time. Congrats again, Yuri. You deserve it. Let me know how everything goes tomorrow, ok?”

Yuri nods, still frowning. “You sure you don’t need anything?”

“Nope! I’m all good. Good night!”

I wave before turning and heading up the stairs. Yuri lives on the ground floor whereas I live on the third. It’s a small apartment complex, and it’s pretty quiet most of the time. Tonight though, people are celebrating the weekend, and the sounds delve into my ears until I have to screw my eyes shut and press my hands up to my ears.

Leaning against my door the second I close it behind me, I sigh. The thoughts are too loud in my head right now.

What started off as a hopeful day has effectively crashed and burned right before my eyes.

Peaking one eye open I glare at the big world map I have hanging up in my living room. To anyone else it’s just another lovely piece of artwork. Painted on a thin canvas with vibrant greens, blues and purples it draws the eye and fills people with wanderlust.  

For me it represents a dream that is becoming more and more unobtainable.

My best friend from my childhood found her soulmate five years ago. We were freshly graduated from high school, it was perfect. I thought that it was perfect, at least. They were able to finish growing up together, figuring out college and taking time to really fall in love before life became too crazy to hardly eat.

They got married two years ago. It was beautiful and they made it look so easy. They finished up college together and moved to Gwacheon. I haven’t seen her for a year now, we’ve just been naturally growing apart.

She’s always been supportive of me trying to find my soulmate. It’s odd, seeing that I’ve always been the one obsessed with learning about them and preparing for that moment and she’s the one that just happened to stumble upon her soulmate right after she turned 18. But she never made me feel like I was falling behind or at a loss.

Our last phone call reminds me of the entire reason why I bought that gigantic world map in the first place, hanging it where I would see it every time I walked in the door at the end of the day.

“You know Haneul, he’s out there. There’s no question about that.”

“I know...just, where? I’m starting to think that he doesn’t want to be found.”

“That’s not true. And if it is, I’ll personally slug him for you.”

“Thanks, I think?”

“You know what you need to do, Han?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“Of course I am. You just have to go out there! Get out in the world, get out of Seoul, and go live your life! The second you get out and start living your life will be when everything falls into place for you. I’m certain of it.”

“I’d love to do that, really. But how on earth do I manage that? I need a stable job, I have an apartment to pay for. I can’t just leave everything to go in search of someone I’ve never met and who maybe isn’t ready to be found.”

“It’s up to you. But I know you, and you’re not happy. I can’t imagine it, I’m not going to pretend to understand. We both know I got lucky...but really Haneul. I know it’s scary and there’s a lot that you don’t know the first thing about, but I just think that if you want to move on from this you have to leave the apartment and get out there. And you think he isn’t ready to be found? Nobody ever is. But I can guarantee that the two of you are both ready to be loved.”

It’s been nearly ten months since that phone call, and it’s been nearly ten months since I became friends with Yuri and found out about the agencies beginning their hiring process. It seemed too good to be true, especially once I found out about the heavy schedule filled with nearly nonstop travelling and meeting people.

I always knew there was a reason I went into the soulmates studies. Finally it seemed like the opportunities were appearing that I so desperately needed.

Ten months. Rigorous training and exhausting schedules that sometimes had me wondering if this really was the right path for me.

But every night, sometimes late enough to see the black sky begin to turn to a hazy gray with the promise of dawn approaching before I even had a chance to sleep, I stumbled home and saw that map.

Somewhere. Every night, I’d see it and chant the word to myself. Somewhere. You’re somewhere out there.

It’s worth it, isn’t it?

Slowly standing up from my position against the door, I glare at my phone as I take it from my pocket. No phone call.

Another glance at the map, the beautiful colors and lines mocking me as it tells me that while he may be somewhere, I am still here. And as long as I remain here, where my soulmate is will be a big question mark.

No phone call. No job. No soulmate.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I make my way to my bedroom. Now would probably be a great time to shower, but I’d much rather just lay here on my bed and stare up at the ceiling as I wallow in self-pity.

“Happy Friday night to me.”

☆

I think it’s on the third ring that I wake up from my slumber, still in my clothes from the day before. Groaning out a few incoherent words, I search my blanket for where my phone is ringing incessantly.

“Who…?”

Finally grasping my phone, I hold it up to my squinting eyes. My mouth drops open of its own accord, my heart rate spiking. Clearing my throat, I attempt to sound like I didn’t just wake up as I answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I’m calling for Choi Haneul?”

My voice gets caught in my throat. “S-speaking.”

“Wonderful. My apologies for calling you so early, I’m manager Sejin, I interviewed you yesterday?”

Straightening out my clothes even though he can’t see them, I nearly scoff at the idea of him having to introduce himself. Like I’d forget.

“Right, no worries. How may I help you?” Slipping into the role of gracious host, I chew on my lip.

Sejin wastes no time getting to the point. “We certainly didn’t expect to come to a decision so quickly, but after reviewing the interviews and applicants, you were a standout Miss Choi. As a representative of Bighit entertainment and manager of BTS, I would like to offer you the position of central soulmate assistant. That is, if you’re still interested.”

I’m practically floating above the floor by the time Sejin finishes speaking. “I- yes! Yes, I would be honored.”

Sejin chuckles lowly. “That’s perfect. Let’s see it’s...6:30 am now? Would you be alright to head in to the company by 9 to go over your contract and meet with the senior soulmate assistant?”

He could have asked me to show up wearing nothing but a garbage bag at 3 in the morning, and I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.

“Of course, I’ll be there!”

“I’ll send you an email with where to go and further instructions.”

“Thank you!”

Laughing again, Sejin allows me this bit of joy. “Thank you, Miss Choi. I’ll see you shortly.”

I’m nearly panting as I end the call, falling back against my bed and staring up at the ceiling with a mad grin. Then, body bursting with excitement I leap up from the bed and hurdle into the front room.

Hurtling to a stop before my map still hanging on the wall, I call my parents.

☆

“I wonder what it’s liiiiike,” I sing at the top of my lungs as I rummage through my closet for something to wear. Double checking the email from manager Sejin, I decide that it might be best to bring in some backup.

Bringing my phone up to my ear, I wait for Yuri to answer the phone. It’s barely seven in the morning, chances are she’s just getting ready as well.

“Haneul?”

The grin that’s been a permanent resident on my face for the past thirty minutes grows wider. “Yuri! I was wondering, could I carpool with you to the agency?”

It’s silent on the other side while Yuri connects the dots. “What do you mean...wait, shut up! You got it?! You got the job?!”

Yuri screams louder than I did while I was on the phone with my parents, but now I can’t help but scream right back. “YES! I got it! They just called me this morning!”

We’re both a happy mess as Yuri decides to bring her things upstairs to get ready with me. “I already picked out my outfit last night, I’ll just bring it up. Be right there!!” She really doesn’t waste any time, because less than two minutes later I open the door to find a panting Yuri nearly buried beneath her pile of clothes and makeup bags.

“Here, let me take that,” I mutter, laughing as she lets me ease some items of clothing off of her pile. “That was fast.”

“Han!!! I’m so happy for you!” As soon as we dump her stuff on my bed, Yuri pounces on me and begins trying to strangle me like a boa constrictor. “I was so nervous for you, and I didn’t want this to drive us apart. I knew for a fact that you were by far the most qualified, they would’ve been complete idiots to let you go!”

Laughing, I drag the both of us over to the closet. “What are you wearing to this, then? What does ‘casual-nice’ even look like?”

Yuri takes the opportunity to show me her outfit, my jaw dropping as she puts it on and shows it off.

“I was thinking something like this,” Yuri says as she straightens out the sleeves of the sweater she wears beneath the checkered brown dress.

My mouth drops open of its own accord. “Wow.”

Yuri frowns as she goes to look at herself in the mirror. “Is it too much?”

“No,” I shake my head as I delve into my thoughts. “I’m just thinking that you’re going to make everyone in there wish you were their soulmate.”

Cheeks turning a furious red color, Yuri waves off my comment. “Whatever. Let’s find you something to wear.”

In the end I try on four different outfits before settling on one that I think will do the job. It’s certainly more simple than Yuri’s but I find that it’s more functional.

“So pretty,” Yuri coos as she gets ready beside me, the vanity proving to have just enough space for the two of us.

“Me or you?” I question, smirking at her. Yuri grins.

“Both.”

☆

Yuri ends up driving us to the agency, much to my eternal gratitude. Once the time came closer, I began to become more and more nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve started a new job; I’ve been working at the university for the past four years and only quit about a month ago in order to make room for the rigorous training that was a result of making it to the final round of applicants.

I’m grateful for Yuri’s company as she chatters about how excited she is, it’s keeping my mind off of the nerves that are currently tying themselves into a knot in the pit of my stomach.

“I just really think that the boys seem really genuine, you know?” She says, tapping out the beat to the song playing on the radio on the steering wheel. “From everything that I’ve seen and heard about them, they seem really cool. I’m excited to meet them.”

Shaking my head numbly as we slow to a stop before a red light, I try to remember just how badly I wanted this job. “Yeah, they do. I’m jealous, I wanted TXT!”

Yuri cackles as she glances over at me. “You can’t even complain, you’re probably going to be paid way more than me!”

That much is true. While Yuri will still be traveling a lot and certainly have her hands full with the five members, I’m going to be paid more. With the constant traveling, meetings, and seven total members, my job will be nonstop.

Either way, the moral of the story is this: we’re about to make some major money. But there won’t really ever be enough time to spend it.

That’s not why people become soulmate assistants. Those that go after it for the money are quickly weeded out. A job that requires all of your time and then some is exhausting, and the uncertain element of every situation is enough to drive some people crazy. I’ve heard about how concerts can be nightmares sometimes, especially when the crowd is huge.

Just imagine it: one of the group members makes eye contact with someone for less than a second, and suddenly they’ve got tunnel vision and are trying to jump off the stage into the sea of adoring fans that are all too happy to receive them. Then, somewhere in the crowd of thousands of fans, there’s a poor person who’s freaking out and feeling the symptoms of tachycardia, but guess what? So is everyone in the crowd. Adrenaline is pumping through them all since they’re at their favorite band’s concert.

Long story short, it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The biggest thing is for one of the soulmate assistants to grab the idol before they can abandon all reason and their heart gives out, and the other assistant has to find the fan who’s wildest dream just came true.

It doesn’t happen that often, but it has been known to happen on occasion. The most recent was at a TWICE concert, where Sana happened upon her soulmate in the middle of a set. The video of the soulmate assistant acting in record time to contain the situation went viral and it’s one that I had to watch several times throughout my training.

“You guys have a senior assistant, don’t you?” I ask, wondering at my title as central soulmate assistant.

“Yep,” Yuri starts back up again as the light turns green, checking the clock. We’ve still got plenty of time. “From the email they sent me it sounds like I’ll be a junior assistant for about six months before moving up to senior.”

“So fast?”

Yuri shrugs. “Sounds like the senior assistant is about ready to retire. What’s your title?”

“Central.”

“Oh, so fancy.”

There are typically two different forms of soulmate assistant hierarchy; the junior/senior pattern and then the central system.

Junior/senior system is pretty self-explanatory: the senior assistant has typically worked with the group for a while already, and the junior assistant acts as an apprentice of sorts. Learning the trade and preparing to someday take over the responsibilities of the senior assistant. They work as a team to ensure the safety of the group.

A central assistant is a more in-depth and new system. Essentially, I’ll have eyes and ears everywhere from various staff members, who are constantly updating me on potential soulmates. All of the staff have been educated in the basics of soulmate studies, so they know what to do to subdue the situation if need be.

According to Sejin’s email, I will most likely be the only licensed soulmate assistant on the team. My job is to remain close to the members so I can hopefully be the first on the scene to help and get everything under way.

It’s exciting, but also a lot of pressure. My only hope is that the boys don’t run into their soulmates for a while; I would like to at least get to know everyone before having to get all up in their personal space.

The agency looms before us in the morning sun, looking somehow inviting and dreadful at the same time. Yuri follows what the security tells her at the front, parking in the parking garage before turning the car off.

8:42.

“We’re a bit early, but at least now we’ll be able to find where we’re supposed to go.”

I nod numbly at her words, trying to fight the pounding in my heart. 

Side Effect #1: Rapid Pulse Rate

“I’m kind of freaking out.”

“Me too. I’m glad you’re here, though.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too.” I grin at Yuri.

It’s quiet in the car before we build up the courage to get out. Our shoes tap against the ground, filling the silent garage with noise. Once inside, we’re directed by a receptionist toward the offices of Sejin and TXT’s management. They’re on the same floor, so we take the elevator together.

As soon as the doors close, Yuri lets out a squeal. “I’m going to dieeee!”

Laughing giddily at her reaction, I lean up against the wall of the elevator and try my best to control my breathing. “Same. Same. Whoo, I need to breathe.”

Side Effect #2: Shortness of breath

The elevator ride is entirely too short, because before I know it Yuri is dragging me out into the hallway and searching for the office #12. I’m supposed to be looking for #17.

Of course Yuri finds hers first, my friend coming to a stop just before the door, turning to grab my hand with surprising strength.

“Quick, tell me that I’ll be fine,” she hisses.

Gently removing her hand from mine, I give her an encouraging smile. “You’ll do great, and everything will work out just fine, Yuri.”

Rolling her shoulders, she gives me a mock salute before stepping up to the door. “See you later?”

“Good luck.”

I scamper past as she knocks on the door, looking back as she’s ushered in by a middle-aged man who must be the senior soulmate assistant. He wears the tell-tale yellow circle on his shirt, his eyes wide and alert as though always on the lookout.

He must have left an apprentice with TXT; there are always a few mulling about the agency to step in for the main assistants when they need to attend to other things.

#17 is just a few doors down, the door already wide open as I walk up to it. I don’t allow myself to pause and freak out again, because I’m scared that they’ll hear me start screaming out here or something.

Shoving down the nervousness to the corners of my mind, I take a deep breath and tap the open door lightly.

Sejin sits at his desk, talking quietly to someone sitting in the chair before his desk. He looks up at me, smiling politely. The person in the chair before him turns around at the sound of my knock, and I find myself face to face with none other than the leader of BTS.

“Miss Choi, great to see you,” Sejin stands, Namjoon as well as he waves.

I bow, hoping that my face isn’t too red as I look into the office. It looks like it’s just Namjoon. What a relief.

“Thank you for calling me back,” I say, nodding to Namjoon. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Namjoon smiles at me, gesturing for me to take the seat beside him. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Sejin spoke highly of you.”

Shuffling into the office, I give Sejin a surprised look. “That was kind of you.”

“I was only telling the truth. Namjoon helped me make the decision in regards to the position, so don’t just thank me.”

Namjoon gives me a sheepish smile before settling back down in the chair. I follow suit, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’.

Once we’re all settled, Sejin produces a packet and slides it across the table to me, another one to Namjoon, and keeps one for himself.

“Ok, shall we get started?”

Sejin begins explaining the contract, Namjoon listening intently beside me. The fact that Namjoon helped with all of this makes me feel a little better somehow. It makes me feel like I won’t be quite so out of place with BTS.

We’re stuck in his office for nearly an hour just going over the finer details of the job, and by that time I’ve finally come out of my shell enough to form a few intelligent questions.

“How many staff members do you have that went through soulmate training within the past three months?” I ask, leaning back in my chair as I examine the Staff Preparedness section in the contract.

Sejin looks over something on his computer. “Within the past three months? Only two; the rest are within the year. We have them renew the course once a year. Why three months?”

“There was a technique that was completely discredited by Léo Dupont and they just began applying it in soulmate training within the past three months. While it may not seem that important, it can sometimes make a big difference in timing.”

Namjoon looks at me with wide eyes, a hint of respect blooming there. “What was the technique he discredited?”

“The glass door technique. It was believed that if the soulmates could still see each other but refrain from actual physical contact, this would assist in the ‘come down’ from the surge in heart rate.”

“It doesn’t?” Sejin asks.

I shake my head. “No, in fact, recent studies show that it nearly doubled the ‘come down’ time. It also served as a spike in the heart rate, long after it should have returned to a normal range. It nearly killed Jennifer Aniston before someone moved her to a more secure location. Best case scenario is a complete cut-off from view, and engaging in verbal contact rather than physical.”

“That’s good to know,” Sejin mumbles, typing something out on his laptop. “I’ll send out a memo with that information as well as advise staff to renew their training as soon as possible.”

We go over a few more details before Namjoon sits up in his seat. “We’re about done, right? I just got a text from Soobin saying they’re all gathered up and ready to go.”

My heart rate spikes again as I realize that we must be meeting together after this. And from the sounds of it, it’s practically the entire agency.

“Yeah, just about. Do you want to sign, Namjoon, and you can head out?”

Namjoon signs Sejin’s copy of the contract before getting up and heading toward the door. “We’re excited to have you join the team, Miss Choi.”

“Thank you! And you can just call me Haneul, don’t worry about it.”

Namjoon’s dimples make an appearance as he smiles back at me. “Then I’m just Namjoon to you. See you guys in a bit.”

Sejin covers the last few points in the span of ten or so minutes, clearly ready to get going like I am. We finish up going over vacation days when he leans back with a sigh.

“And yeah, I think that’s about it. Any questions? Today you’ll be getting a feel for the schedule and meet the boys and staff you’ll be working closely with, so don’t hesitate to ask them any more questions as they come.”

Palms starting to sweat with the idea of meeting the rest of Bighit shortly, I give a curt shake of the head. “I think I’m good for now.” Ignoring the tightness in my chest, I reach out for the contract.

Side Effect #3: Chest pain

“Wonderful. Just sign here, and I’ll send you a copy of this.”

☆

Sejin and I walk down the hall after being dropped off at the fifth floor. The second the elevator doors opened I could hear the ruckus of two kpop groups in one room.

To my shock Yuri’s voice rings out, followed by a bout of laughter. It would appear that she’s already found her place.

Sejin gives me an encouraging smile as we inch closer to the room at the end of the hall. “You ready? It’s been a pretty big couple of days for you.”

I can’t help but find comfort in Sejin’s attitude. I’m glad he understands the deer in the headlights look I’m probably sporting right now.

I hope my soulmate is like him.

The thought passes through my mind suddenly, making me go blank for a moment. While it’s a true sentiment, I have to focus on making a good impression today so I can find my soulmate another day.

One day at a time, Hanuel.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I respond, offering him a shaky smile in return. Sejin chuckles, and I wonder if he felt the same way early on in his manager days. I wonder if he still occasionally feels that way, now that BTS has grown more than anyone ever expected.

He goes before me, entering the room and already falling into a conversation with someone. I hesitate for a second, my heart pounding so hard that it’s hard to focus. Rolling my neck, I take a step into the room.

“Ah, there she is!” Yuri chirps out, leaving from where she was beside Beomgyu, who was showing her a video on his phone. “You guys took a long time.”

If my heart wasn’t currently trying to leap out of my ribcage, I would come up with something funny to say.

“Haneul is very thorough,” Sejin comments from where he stands beside one of the TXT managers. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

“Quick,” I hear someone speak up, “Everyone pretend like Sejin didn’t just say her name!”

It was Hueningkai that made the comment. I can tell who it was because the boy in question is currently dodging an elbow to the ribs from Taehyun. Yuri laughs at their behavior before looking back to me expectantly.

“Oh,” my voice sounds a bit croaky. After clearing my throat, I try again. “Hello everyone. I’m Choi Haneul, it’s nice to meet you all.”

The seven members of BTS come up to the front, gathering in a line like it’s second nature. Namjoon gives me a small smile, which I take comfort in.

“Well, you’ve met me already...this is everyone else.”

Taehyung steps forward, giving me a small wave and grinning wide. “Just call me Tae.”

Jimin gives his friend a wide-eyed look. “Isn’t that a bit informal for just meeting?” Tae’s cheeks go a little red.

“Is it?” He asks, and I nearly pass out from the amount of sweetness in the room. “I think we’ll be good friends, so why not just skip the formalities?”

The boys reflect various levels of long-suffering as Jungkook shakes his head while the rest of the room laughs at Tae’s odd manner. “We both know it doesn’t work like that.”

Sejin answers the question I didn’t even know I was thinking. “In case you’re wondering, they’re always like this. Might as well get used to it.”

Yuri giggles at my reddened cheeks, but I brush off the embarrassment enough to look back at the boys. “That’s good to know.” The boys break from their line in order to return to wherever they were lounging about earlier. Once they turn to leave I feel a bit better; my heart calming down. Hopefully, with time, I’ll be able to breathe properly around them.

I remain near the door, unsure as to what to do next. It looks like Sejin and the other managers are preparing to give a debriefing of sorts and everyone is just waiting around for it. Thankfully, Yuri remains beside me.

“How are you holding up?” She asks me quietly. I give her a long look, conveying the depth of my feelings perfectly.

“I can’t calm down. I feel like I’m either going to pass out or going to run the length of Seoul in five minutes flat.”

Side Effect #4: Lightheadedness and/or fainting (syncope) 

Yuri snorts. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Taehyung calls out to me, pulling me from my conversation. “You’re from Seoul, Miss Choi?”

I smile warmly at him, already taking a liking to him. He’s one big contradiction: his looks make him appear intimidating, but he has the warmest personality.

“I’m originally from Anyang, actually. But I’ve been in Seoul for the past five years.”

“Oh, we’re neighbors!”

Jin is the one who spoke, and I look to where he stands behind the couch, leaning down to watch something on Jungkook’s phone. His eyes are turned up to me, a hint of excitement at being from neighboring cities evident in his expression.

Less than a second is all it takes.

In the second grade, I learned that within the span of a single second, a bumblebee can beat its wings 200 times.

That fact fascinated my young brain; 200 times in a single second?! Of all the wonders in the world I had discovered and had yet to discover in my life, this was the fact that stayed with me. How could such a small creature accomplish such an improbable feat, all within the confines of the time it takes to blink?

My junior year of high school I learned that the average pair of soulmates begin to experience the initial spike in heart rate that leads to tachycardia within the first 0.002 seconds of eye contact. That means, even if it’s a passing glance, the moment those two sets of eyes make contact, everything is about to change.

As I hold eye contact with Jin across the room, I believe that there is a small part of me that knows I should be thinking about everything I’ve learned about soulmates over the past few years. Where are the steps I used to recite day and night in order to keep them memorized?

Yet, that little 8 year old girl with wonder-filled eyes as she learns about bumblebee’s amazing abilities is the only thing I can come up with. Almost as if she’s in the room with me, looking back and forth between Jin and I with that same expression.

Something clicks for me in that single moment as my heart rate continues to jolt and jump. Something seems to connect between bumblebees and soulmates.

Like a bumblebee’s wings frantically beating to keep itself aloft, my own heart begins to do its best to meet the same pace.

Side Effect #5: Heart palpitations (a racing, uncomfortable or irregular heartbeat or a sensation of "flopping" in the chest)

I’m barely aware of distant voices all around me, a few growing in volume as the truth sinks in. I feel arms trapping my own against my torso, and I gasp for air as breathing becomes more difficult. Frowning, I realize that someone is trying to move me away.

Away?

Jin seems to notice I’m being moved away at the same time I do, because the frozen posture he had is broken as he straightens and lurches forward.

He’s all I can see. It strikes me in that moment that he looks a bit different in real life. Sharper, yet somehow more welcoming. Those eyes, although frantic, have kindness imbued in them. The fingers that are outstretched toward me are a bit crooked, and I can’t help but wonder for a moment if our hands will fit together like everyone always says soulmates do.

Wait, soulmates?

Amidst the pounding in my chest and burning lungs, I suddenly have a moment of clarity. The wiry arms wrapped around my torso must belong to Yuri, and she’s speaking calmly into my ear.

“Count with me, Haneul. 1, 2, 3…”

Opening my mouth and marveling at how dry and scratchy my throat feels, I croak out, “...4…5…”

“What comes next, Han?”

“...6.”

Yuri hums, gently trying to ease me backward. When my body locks up, she tries a new method. Coming around to face me, she keeps a firm grip on my shoulders, and gets up on her tippy toes to look me in the eyes.

“We’ve got to move you to a separate room, Han. You remember, don’t you?”

There’s a small voice in my head that wants to tell her that yes, I do remember. However it’s drowned out by the sound of my heart beating in my ears as it continues to pick up speed. Yuri is instructing the boys to grab Jin as he continues marching toward me on shaky legs. He’s only about three feet away, arms extending toward me while Yuri pins my arms down and shoves.

“Grab him!” Yuri shouts even as I cry out from being shoved away. In a flash I see a couple of different pairs of arms reaching out to Jin, effectively stopping him in his tracks as he struggles against them.

“Please,” Jin says in a surprisingly calm voice even as he pushes against Jungkook and Sejin. “Please, just let me-”

“Han, I know your mind is a jumbled mess right now, but please. Remember that this is a matter of life or death. You want to see him?” Yuri doesn’t wait for my response, which makes sense as I haven’t once looked away from Jin. “Then get out of here. Now.”

Like an electric shock to my senses, I breathe in deep. Still unable to look anywhere other than Jin - his sweater has a loose thread on the collar, I should fix that for him - I do the only thing I can.

Closing my eyes is like swimming through concrete, but gritting my teeth I just manage to do it. The second I break contact with Jin, my body relaxes just enough for Yuri to push against me and shove my unwilling feet out the door.

She has a firm grip on the back of my shoulders still as she shouts out to nobody in particular, “I need a room!”

Someone must answer her, because we abruptly change directions before coming to a stop. I refuse to open my eyes for fear of falling back into the imobile state I was in before, and Yuri still hasn’t given me the clear.

“Yeonjun, grab my bag! Bring it to me.”

The sounds of everyone scampering around are drowned out as I hear Jin’s broken voice calling out once more.

“No, don’t take her. Please don’t take her from me.”

Like a dam of freezing water breaking over my head, my eyes open and I spin around, seeing Jin breaking free of Sejin’s grasp and dragging Jungkook along with him.

Just as my eyes find his once more, the door slams shut.

Part 2

masterlist

taglist: @taylorroe3​ @dreamcatcherjiah​ @thecaffeinatedscribbles​ @marianeamine 

[bibliophilea]

Just a Flesh Wound - Ch. 2

Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I’m not sure when I’ll get to the next chapter, but I do intend to phinish this phic!

For @littlebadger.

ao3 | ffn

1 >2< 3 4 5 6

Danny's not doing so well.

It took Tucker, Sam, and Danny four hours to catch those cat-snake-ghost things — tassel-whatsits, he'll have to ask Sam what they're called later — and everything would have been fine if Valerie hadn't butted in, screaming about vengeance and death and whatnot.

Now, three hours later, Danny still hasn't managed to shake Valerie off his tail, and Tucker knows he must be tiring. None of them have gotten a break in seven hours, and it'll only take one slip up before Danny's got a hole in him they can't patch up, or Valerie takes him to her secret lair to do who knows what, or turns him over to Vlad, or—

Don't think about that.

"Remind me again why I can't just shoot at her, Tucker?" Sam growls. She's got Danny and Valerie in her scope, but her finger is very pointedly not on the trigger of the ecto-bazooka.

Tucker lists off his fingers. "One, because you might hit Danny. You're good, but not that good. Two, because you might hit Valerie, and Danny wouldn't like that. Three, because you'll blow our cover, which could blow his secret identity, and who knows how she'll react to that. Four, because—"

Sam sighs in frustration. "Alright, alright, I get it, Tuck."

"Hey, you asked." He raises an eyebrow.

"I know. It's just—" she growls. "I hate that we can't do anything! We can't even direct him to safety because she keeps getting in the way! She's going to hurt him if we can't get her off his tail or distract her or something!"

Sam throws her hands in the air, then flinches as one of Valerie's shots goes wide, hitting the parking garage across the street behind them. Dust kicks up from the impact, and it rumbles ominously. She's lucky that building's condemned, Tucker thinks, and the road workers are on break — otherwise she might hurt someone when it collapses—

Wait.

"Or something," Tucker mutters, before grabbing his binoculars and searching the sky for Danny and Valerie. He catches sight of them as Valerie shoots again, this one barely missing Danny and hitting the condemned parking garage again. It kicks up dust and debris, clouding his vision before Danny darts away again.

"What did you say, Tuck?" Sam asks.

"Or something! I've got an or something!" Tucker exclaims, dropping the binoculars so they hang from his neck. He fiddles with the Fenton phone in his ear, switching it from listen to talk and listen.

"Danny, we need to collapse the building."

"What?!" Two different voices ring out — Sam's beside him, and Danny's in his ear.

"Dudes, just trust me! We collapse the building, kick up a ton of dust you can hide in—"

"Then you can transform and stay invisible while we point Valerie away from you — Tucker, you're a genius!" Sam declares.

"But guys there's — there's people in there and — ah! Shit! — we can't just—"

"Dude, chill. It's the parking garage on the corner. The building's condemned. Just fly low so Valerie shoots at the base. We'll help take it down!" Tucker turns to Sam. "You ready to use that bazooka?"

Sam's grin is feral. "I thought you'd never ask!"

Danny doesn't speak, but he dives down to street level, goading Valerie into following him behind the condemned building with a stuck out tongue. Tucker runs along the street, Sam close behind, taking a good look at the condemned parking garage for the first time. There are no glass windows save for the four corners that hold the stairs and elevators. Most of those windows are gone, now — destroyed by ghosts or by ghost hunters or by kids looking to throw rocks at something that would break without consequence. It doesn't matter now — the building itself is half collapsed, huge chunks of concrete taken out of it as if from an explosion, leaving the broken steel rods within bare. What remains could collapse at any moment, and no one save the dead dares tread there.

He's glad the building is half-collapsed already — it makes finding the main supports keeping the rest of it up that much easier. He's so glad he took that engineering class.

"See that pillar over there?" Tucker asks, pointing into the collapsed side of the parking garage. "Take that one out first."

"On it," Sam says, readying the ecto-bazooka. With careful aim, she fires. The green-tinted ammo sails through the air, exploding against the pillar with a blast louder than a firework. The parking garage rumbles, and some of the lower floors cave inwards. As the greenish smoke clears, they see that half the concrete on the support is gone, the support itself bent inwards.

Sam's grin widens, and Tucker feels himself grinning with her. After hours of fruitless brainstorming, they can finally help Danny escape Valerie's rage!

Together, they destroy more supports, Tucker guesstimating which ones would help the building cave inwards, Sam expertly taking them out one by one. Tucker hears Danny's taunts and Valerie's screams of rage in his ears, and the sounds of impact and rumbles of the parking garage when Valerie's shots hit the building. Dust begins to fill the air. And the parking garage slowly, surely, begins to topple inwards.

Tucker has never seen a building collapse before. Not in person. He expected the dust and the noise, but he never expected there to be so much of it. He turns away as the dust comes billowing towards them — rips the Fenton phone from his ear as it emits a burst of feedback from the collapsing building and curls over himself — feels Sam yank him behind a concrete barrier and they huddle together, unable to see anything beyond the dust or hear anything beyond their less than controlled demolition—

"—can't hide forever, ghost!"

Tucker doesn't know how long it's been —two minutes? Five? Ten? — when he hears Valerie's voice over the buzzing in his ears. That's not good. Valerie should be gone by now. Danny can disappear and fly as a human, but not for long, especially after seven hours of non-stop fighting. He stands up from behind the concrete barrier, and sees Sam do the same out of the corner of his eye.

"He went that way!" Sam shouts and points.

"Inviso-Bill stole my PDA!" Tucker shouts.

Valerie pauses in the air, turning to look at them. "What?"

"Ph— Inviso-Bill stole Tucker's PDA!" Sam shouts.

"He went that way!" Tucker shouts and points.

Valerie shakes her head, growling in frustration, and points at Sam. "You. Uh, citizen. Just tell me where he went."

Sam nods, covering Tucker's mouth. Tucker resists the urge to lick her hand. "He went that way." She points down the street. "Towards the beach."

Tucker pulls Sam's hand away from his mouth.

"And he stole my PDA! My poor Jessica!" He throws his face into his hands, lamenting the loss of his PDA. He remembers when Technus stole and took over his poor PDA, and he sniffles a little. Every good lie has a kernel of truth, he's learned. And it's more important than ever that he sells this lie.

"Ugh, whatever, Fo— uh, citizen, who I definitely don't know. Um. Thanks for the tip." And then Valerie flies away, down the street at first, but steadily rising until she clears the rooftops. She then changes her bearing, disappearing behind the library.

"Man, I thought she'd never leave."

Tucker and Sam jump. They look down to see Danny sitting between them, slumped against the concrete barrier. He looks wiped. His eyes are closed, head lolling against the barrier. One leg is bent, foot resting against the curb. The other is outstretched, slightly elevated onto the sidewalk. His hair, skin, and clothes are stained gray with dust — if it weren't for the sweat beading down his face, Tucker would say he looks like a ghost. Not an Amity Park ghost — rather, a ghost from one of the movies. Quiet. Unmoving. Dead.

Then Danny opens his eyes. Piercing blue reflects the sky above, before turning to Tucker and Sam. He smiles lightly, and then raises his arms. "Help me up?"

Tucker and Sam grab his arms, heaving him up to a standing position. He sways for a moment — then the leg that was outstretched buckles, and he leans hard into Tucker with a grunt.

"Woah, dude, take it easy," Tucker says, adjusting himself so he can take on Danny's weight.

"I'm fine, Tuck. It's just—" he hisses as he gingerly places his foot on the ground, leaning further into Tucker. "Just a flesh wound."

Tucker sighs. "I know, man. But we still gotta check it out." He takes a careful step with Danny onto the sidewalk. "Sam, any luck getting a ride?"

Sam nods, typing into her phone. "I'm texting Mahira — she might ask questions, but more importantly, she won't tell mom and dad."

"Cool." Tucker's about to say something else when a soft snore snuffs against his ear. He looks down to see Danny, leaning his full weight against Tucker, eyes closed and nose snoring in his ear. Tucker smirks softly, rolling his eyes, then adjusts the way he's holding Danny, scooping his friend up bridal style. Danny would never let him carry him like this were he awake. Asleep as he is, he snuggles into Tucker's sweater, pressing his cheek to Tucker's chest. Tucker's smirk softens into a smile.

When did Danny get so light?

He walks slowly, taking his time, letting Sam walk ahead of him as he stares down at his best friend. He's still covered in dust, his hair matted with it. Bruises have begun to form on his arms and face, and are peeking out from beneath his shirt. Between the tassel-whatsits and Valerie, today has done a number on him; and it's barely noon. Despite this, his face is more peaceful than Tucker's seen in a long time. Free of tension around his eyes, free of the constant frown that normally burdens his face. Danny deserves this, Tucker thinks.

Click!

Tucker looks up to see Sam holding up her camera, a smirk on her face.

"Hey!" Tucker shouts, but then stops himself when Danny stirs.

"Shush, you," Sam sings out, turning back around. "You don't want to wake him up!"

"No fair!" Tucker whines, only just loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam chuckles and smiles back at Tucker, then runs ahead to the corner where the SUV is waiting. That must be Mahira.

Tucker picks up the pace, but only just, careful not to wake Danny. He lets Sam answer Mahira's questions; he figures Sam'll fill him in on her excuses later.

He looks down again at Danny, and can't help the small smile as Danny snores against him.

Sleep well, buddy.

[theloneliestshipper]

Imagine if you will, post Mando Season 2, Boba took over Jabba's palace and word gets around. Leia comes to see for herself, and hopefully form an alliance, but- and this is crucial- she shows up disguised as Boushh again. It's a test to see if this Boba Fett is the real deal.

AO3 Link

“Look, I don’t know what more I can tell you. He said his name was Boba Fett.” Cara Dune’s voice was soft and a little tense. Leia didn’t blame her for being nervous. An outer rim marshal being summoned to a command ship would normally proceed some kind of disciplinary action.

Leia flipped a switch on the holoprojector and the image of a firespray-class ship appeared. “Yeah,” the marshal confirmed. “That’s the ship.” Another switch revealed an image of a man in battered Mandalorian armor. She leaned closer to the projector. “Nnnh. It’s not the same. Different colors. And he doesn’t wear a flightsuit under it.”

“It can’t be the same Boba Fett,” Luke reasoned. “The sarlacc swallowed him whole.”

“I’m not saying it is or isn’t,” Cara Dune replied evenly. “But I’ve seen this guy with his helmet off, and something terrible happened to him. If you told me he was chewed on by a sarlacc I wouldn’t blink.”

“Thank you, Marshal Dune.” Leia stood as she spoke. “Speak with Commander Elrith outside. He’ll call a shuttle to take you back to Nevarro.”

She hesitated at the door. “I don’t know if he’s the same Boba Fett you knew. But I know Mando trusts him, and that’s worth a lot to me.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Luke assured her. As soon as she was gone he folded his arms, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his long jedi robe. “Is it better or worse for us if it’s the same guy?”

“I don’t know, but Tatooine has become too important. Someone has to go meet with him.”

“What does Han think about all this?”

Leia looked away. “I haven’t spoken with him recently.”

“Sorry.” Luke’s voice dropped low in sympathy. “How’s Ben taking it?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“I’ll go.” He gestured at holo images. “I’m sure this brings back memories.”

“It does.” Leia took a breath. “But I have to go. I know how to find out if he’s the same Boba Fett.”

---

The hardest thing to get used to was the helmet. The other clothing and light armor worn by the Ubanese bounty hunter fit Leia quite well. She could move around comfortably and more importantly, without notice.

The day she wore it to Jabba’s palace was the first time she wanted to be noticed in it. Chewie made sure that she was. It wasn’t until after she put the thermal detonator away that she saw Boba Fett. He tilted his helmet in a slow, deliberate nod and suddenly being noticed seemed like a terrible idea.

The fact that she was 35 thousand credits richer was not lost on anyone in the throne room. She was offered everything under the stars from sex to drugs to part ownership in an aurodium mine. A spice-dealing Dug followed her around for almost an hour no matter how many times she swung her staff at him. He could sell her the best stuff, he claimed. Pure spice. The real deal.

An armored arm entered her peripheral vision and a blast of fire forced the dealer to scramble back, cursing in Huttese. She turned around to face Boba Fett, a walking threat in scarred armor. “He cuts his spice with filanium,” he said matter-of-factly as the dealer scuttled away. “Nothing you can get here is real.”

“What do you want?” She asked, relying on the voice scrambler to make her voice sound like the voice of Boushh.

“I want to know how you caught Chewbacca.”

Her mind raced as she tried to calculate her response. How would Boushh respond? “Why? So you can steal my tricks?”

“You think I need your tricks?” His tone was mocking, even through his helmet. “I brought in Captain Solo. What happened to the princess?”

There was a terrible roar in her ears. She could hardly hear herself speak. “What?”

“The last time I saw the wookiee, Solo told him to take care of the princess. Wookiees take that kind of thing seriously. It must have been difficult to separate them.”

Leia wanted nothing as much as she wanted to be able to see past Fett’s inscrutable visor. “It was not difficult for me.” She added for good measure, “so the princess has lost both of her protectors.”

“Can’t speak for the wookiee, but Solo needs her protection more than she needs his.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s too smart for him. Maybe now she’ll realize it.”

As suspicious as she was of Fett’s motivations, she had to fight the urge to defend herself and Han. “Some do not let go so easily.”

Fett snorted. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’ll be fine without him.” His helmet turned, following Bib Fortuna as the majordomo passed by. “What did he give you? A marker?”

“Yes.”

“I’m still waiting for Jabba to cash out mine. Hang on to that thermal detonator. You might need it.” He took a step to one side and walked past her, leaving her to weigh his words with a hammering pulse.

Soon afterwards she was exposed as a fraud and forced to become a tasteless display for Jabba and his minions. Fett never said a word to her while she was chained to Jabba’s dais, but he also never strayed far.

There were times when the braver creeps would sneak closer. Sometimes they would tug on her chain when Jabba was distracted. But there always came a moment when they looked beyond her and suddenly and swiftly backed away.

Even years later when she thought about their brief exchange in the throne room, she couldn’t say with certainty. Was it a warning? Did he know?

---

It didn’t take long to find him. She caught a glimpse of his dark green armor outside the spaceport in Mos Espa and followed him at a careful distance. Once again in the guise of Boushh, Leia was invisible. The helmet still took some getting used to. She cut through an alley and nearly crashed her head into a rack of metal utensils hanging above a vendor’s stand.

The jetpack certainly looked familiar. It was the same style of Mandalorian armor, but with a darker color scheme. His build was thicker, his gait heavier. He walked like a man with nothing to fear.

How he ended up as the regent of Tatooine was a subject of some debate. There was a power vacuum after Jabba’s death, and portions of the world were held by warring gangs and factions every bit as corrupt as the Hutt cartel. Now a man called Boba Fett controlled it all. The rapid consolidation of power was impossible for the New Republic to ignore. The only question that remained was whether this new leadership would be a friend or a foe.

The suns of Tatooine were beginning to drop low on the horizon, and the citizens of Mos Espa were returning to their homes. That made it more difficult for Leia to hide in the crowd. She kept to the shadows as much as she could, trying to guess where he was headed. Was he bound for Jabba’s palace, or did he have another destination in mind?

He made a sudden turn, down an alley below a flashing sign. Leia paused to work out the Huttese.

A brothel. Interesting.

She turned the corner and there was no sign of him. Maybe there was a side entrance?

A pair of gloved hands caught her bandoleer and nearly lifted her off the ground. She swiftly turned her staff, grasping it both hands and bracing it against the throat of the man who was now holding her against the wall.

“Well look at that,” he said in a raspy voice that, like the rest of him, was both familiar and different. He released her and stepped back as much as the narrow alley will allow. “If it isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Leia set her staff against the wall and pulled the helmet off her head, drawing in a gulp of unfiltered air before she spoke. “It really is you.”

Boba Fett removed his own helmet. The light was swiftly fading from the sky, but the flashing brothel sign provided enough light for her to see the scars. “What’s left of me.”

Leia had no comparison, having never seen his face before. But even scarred and worn he was a handsome man. “You look pretty good for a dead man.”

“Thank you. You look exactly the same.”

“I’m supposed to be flattering you, not the other way around.”

One hairless brow lifted in a challenge. “Go on, then.”

She leaned back against the wall and pursed her lips in exaggerated thought. “I like your face. It’s nice to be able to finally see it.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Consider me flattered.”

She should turn the conversation to business now. Pleasantry and then diplomacy. But she couldn’t resist. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“In the palace, when you approached me…” she gestured at the helmet in her hand. “Did you know who I was?”

“No.” He said it without hesitation, but with a hint of chagrin. “I felt like a real idiot, in case you were wondering.”

“So you meant what you said. About me. And...Han.”

“Every word. It’s still true, as far as I’m concerned.” He paused, turning his helmet in his hands. “You’re here on business I imagine.”

“Politics. The usual.” Her eyes dropped briefly before returning to his. "I think I will be, you know. Fine without him."

"Good." He held her gaze for a moment before he replaced his helmet. “Business first," he said, motioning for her exit the alley before him. "And then dinner?”

[friendlylocalwhumper]

retirement

“Adrian, how smart phones were developed. Your expert is Mrs. Langley.”

The class murmurs with jealousy as Adrian is assigned a teacher - not only is she fun and friendly, but she works in this same building. An easy assignment. Someone mutters about how he got an easy one because he’s the teacher’s nephew.

“Kristen, the politics of the nineties. You have a retired senator to interview for this one, isn’t that fun?”

The goody-two-shoes students make impressed, interested sounds, while the rest shift in their seats waiting to hear who they’ll be assigned.

“Okay, this next one will be a group of three, because the source always talks too much for one student to catch all the details.” She opens her mouth to continue, but already, kids are groaning.

“Not the one from-”

“Not the old-”

“Come on, Mrs.-”

She speaks over them, used to the complaints by now. “Sheela, Maxim, and Zach, you three have Quinn Mae. You’ll be interviewing them about-”

“The history of the magic community,” Recite the three named students in unison, one rolling their eyes, one slouching in their seat, and one clenching their jaw.

“Yes. That one’s just down the street, so I don’t want any excuses. A late assignment isn’t acceptable at this level. I want an essay from each of you. Mx. Mae will give you plenty to work with, so no copying.”

~

The retirement home is nice enough, all neat and studded with simple, pleasantly neutral furniture. The generic art on the walls gives an aura of charming, if manufactured peace. The deep ticking of a grandfather clock warms the lobby. A smiling lady at the front desk offers caramel candies to all who drag their feet past her.

None of it quite makes up for the walkers left lying around, or the smell of old people, or the tired sass of the caretakers walking around briskly. To a couple of teenagers, it’s the worst place in the world to be. Boring beyond measure, and the old ladies will grab you by the wrist to say something about how your hair looks, or what you’re wearing, or whether they think you’re their grandkid.

The receptionist informs the kids that the senior citizen they’re looking for is on this floor, with all the residents who don’t need supervision. “Quinn Mae is a feisty one,” She says with a fond smile. “They’re all mild-mannered, know all the right things to say, until suddenly your name tag is missing, and they’ll only give it back if you catch them with it. Smug little smile. Watch your wallets and phones, kids.”

Maxim is the only one who doesn’t smile politely at the advice and very adult-like oversharing. The three proceed into the lobby, briefly arguing about which hallway the receptionist said to go down.

“You three lost?” Says some old bag of bones on the lobby couch, wrinkly fingers wrapped around the edges of a newspaper. Thin wire-framed glasses sit low on a flat nose, hanging on for dear life. Dull white hair lies in limp curls on slender shoulders, big faded freckles spread across cheeks that have seen more sun than any other retiree that ambles past.

“No, sir,” Sheela says with bare-minimum politeness.

“Not sir,” Sasses the old person gently, folding their newspaper.

“Uh. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Not that either. Were you asking about Quinn Mae at the front desk?”

“Yeah. You know ‘em? What room’re they in?” Asks Maxim, stepping forward. His bushy eyebrows are cocked with frustration and slight amusement, as if anything the retiree says will be made fun of later.

The senior citizen gives a bare smile, a hint of a quirk to thin lips. “Room one-seven-three, young man.”

The students talk amongst themselves, eager to agree that that was the number the receptionist gave them and get away from this old person who will surely trap them in boring conversation if they linger. Off they go, down a hallway they were gravitating toward anyway, searching for room 173.

Five minutes later, they’re back, looking disgruntled. “Unless Quinn Mae’s disguised as an old lesbian couple, wrong room, old guy,” Grumbles bushy-brows.

“Not a guy,” Reminds the lobby couch-warmer. “Forgive me, you said Quinn Mae? That’ll be room one-twenty-six.”

Off they go again, the grumpy boy nudging at the girl who glances back at the retiree paging through a newspaper and pointedly not watching them go down a different hallway this time.

It’s ten minutes later, this time, that the kids return. One of the boys goes over to the front desk while Maxim and Sheela return to the old person on the couch.

“Okay. Try again, grandpa. Not one-seventy-three, not one-twenty-six. Quinn Mae. Where is Quinn Mae? We’re here from the high school, doing a school project. Old geezer probably talked about us coming, all excited, since nothing else happens here. Where’s Quinn Mae?”

Sheela’s looking at this person with white curls, wise brown eyes, and a slowly spreading, sly smile. She doesn’t join in as Maxim grills them for answers. The retiree looks over the disgruntled boy, then finally meets the girl’s eyes.

“You’re Mae, aren’t you?” She accuses.

Finally, that newspaper is folded and lowered. Quinn nods.

Just in time for them all to hear from across the lobby as the receptionist sighs and nods to the couch, informing Zach, “That’s Quinn Mae right there. They gave you the runaround, didn’t they?”

Maxim looks flustered, but Sheela speaks first. “Mr. Mae-”

“Mx. Mae, if you please.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Mx. Mae, we’re supposed to ask you about the history of the magic community.”

Quinn gives a soft, wobbly hum. They flip over the paper in their hands and run an age-softened finger over a line of text. “Young Man Found Beaten, Rescued. That’s what this article is titled. That sound odd to you?”

Sheela shakes her head. Maxim frowns.

“The article goes on to mention that the young man has magic. Mentioned, not announced as the clear reason he deserved to be beaten. When I was forty, this headline would’ve been, Warlock Found Alive, Scaring Citizens.” Approaching to listen, the other boy, Zach, winces at the word warlock. That word hasn’t been okay to use for years. “When I was your age, there wouldn’t have been a story printed in the paper about it at all.”

“Yeah. They were killed in the streets back then. No statistics on it ‘cause no one cared. We know all this,” Complains Maxim. “Times changed.”

Brown eyes scan across the teens before settling on the one who spoke. “You remind me of someone I used to know,” Replies Mae, looking wistful for a moment before they add, “Someone unintelligent. Times haven’t changed much if a person with magic is still beaten for being warlock scum, have they?”

“Language, Quinn,” Reminds one of the caregivers, pushing a cart of sheets and towels over to the service elevator.

“Oh, heavens, did I do it again? I’m sorry, Julie!” They offer her a kind, harmless smile until she’s out of sight. The teenagers catch a glimpse of the retiree rolling their eyes. “The younger ones don’t understand. I’ll forgive them for it, it’s what I fought for. The luxury to be ignorant without it costing lives.”

None of this aged-revolutionary talk impresses the kids. One of them even looked incensed by it. Quinn’s eyes, having wandered off to ponder their memories, lock onto the one who stands out from the group.

“What’s your name?”

“Maxim,” Says the one who reminds them of Major. They miss him, the old idiot. He used to cause so much trouble.

“Maxim. Do you have something you’d like to say?”

Glancing at his classmates, the young man shrugs one shoulder. “Nah. Just keep talking, we’ll get something we can use.”

“I’d love to help you all with your assignment. Your teacher informed me that you’ll fail this class if you don’t hand in an acceptable essay, each of you.” The newspaper has one corner folded back neatly that they play with slowly as they watch the three kids before them. “But I know someone who hates magic when I see them. If you want me to help someone like that to pass an advanced class, you’ll all have to do better than this. I don’t want to teach you about the history I lived through. I want each of you to study it on your own, come present what you learned to me, and show me that you have the base understanding to even believe what I’ll tell you.”

Maxim turns to leave, uninterested, ready to pay someone to write his essay for him. Zach looks anxious, mouth opening to make excuses and beg for Quinn to just tell them what they need to know to get their project done.

Sheela watches Quinn. Just stands there and waits, judging whether they’re being honest. Quinn leans back in the lobby’s couch and beams.

“You. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. The others, they have to hear it from you. I want you to retell my stories before you write anything down on paper.”

“I’d type it on my phone, no one uses paper for notes anymore,” She argues mildly.

“Fine. You’ll relay it by word of mouth, then take the notes on your phone. Do we have a deal, Miss…”

“Sheela. Yeah, that’s - we can do that. Right?”

Maxim sighs and turns back around, glaring but grumbling his agreement. Zach nods to show he accepts the terms as well.

“Wonderful,” Says Quinn, standing with all the aches of a senior citizen, but the glowing energy of someone about to do their favorite thing. “Let’s go out for a walk. We’ll start with the war and go from there.”

[jaz-xedarix]

The Return of the Star

Thank you so much for your patience and your nice words. I really appreciated them too much. 

So finally I have finished part II, and things are starting to get really interesting.

As I promised there’s a new coloring among the text, I really hope you like it, and I put another one, but a bit older, since I couldn’t resist to post it in this part XD

Thanks so much to @buffaloborgine​ and @trinity-blood-translations for helping me correct this text, your effort is valuable to me. Send you lots of love my friends.

Let’s get started.

               ════════════╠☆╣════════════

                                      II

The Istvan Opera House was located on Andrássy Street, the main avenue of the city. It was an old style building that had survived Armageddon. After the liberation battle, it was the first place restored by the archbishop, to serve as a public building for the citizens. 

The building was built in a magnificent and delicate Neo-Renaissance style. It was an imposing work that could be compared to the Scala in Milan, the Opernhaus in Vienna or the Státní in Prague. The facade had a secluded air, but once inside the decorations in gold and purple colors overwhelmed the visitor with their luxury. 

The “guest of honor” entrance that Esther passed through was no exception. In the boxes facing the wide stage, the rugs were so thick that they reached to the ankles, as if she were in a lavish palace. The walls were lined with works of art and all the furniture had been expressly imported from Rome or Florence. 

However, everything paled when compared to the beauty of the woman who was waiting for her sitting on the sofa. 

“Welcome, Sister Esther. You may be exhausted after the trip...” 

The Cardinal Caterina Sforza, Duchess of Milan, Secretary of State of the Vatican and head of its foreign policy, gave a friendly welcome to the nun. Telling her to sit on the couch that was in front, where the two priests was already sitting, she laid her cup of tea on the table. 

“I've was told you've had a difficult time with the media at the station. I am glad that you are well.” “Nothing happened… More than anything, it was a surprise that…” 

Looking into the gray eyes that smiled at her behind the monocle, the nun awkwardly shook her head like a puppet. For Esther, the Cardinal was a person almost as sacred as the Virgin. Every time she presented herself to her, she couldn't help but get nervous and tense. She brushed off the sweat she didn't have and continued in an uneasy voice: 

“Your Eminence, the journalists called me Saint… what kind of joke is this? And why am I the protagonist of the play that is going to be performed here tonight?” “We'll talk about all that later...” Adjusting her monocle, the beautiful woman looked up at the stage, the curtain still closed, and sighed. “His Holiness will be here shortly. He is accompanied by the Minister of Information, who is the one who has organized all this. I myself know only part of the story. It will be better if he tell us all about it in person… What I want to hear now is what news you bring me from the Empire.” 

The cardinal spoke with the usual serenity. However, her voice had hardened slightly as she turned her gaze back to the nun and priest, as she crossed her legs under her habit.

“Were you able to contact the empress?” “Yes, we have to inform you about it.” Esther steadied herself and her voice changed as she began to recite the report that she had been rehearsing mentally in the way: “We were fortunate enough to have direct contact with the Empress in...” “Well, the truth is that we couldn't speak to her directly…” 

Everything Esther had prepared came to nothing when the other voice interrupted her, preventing her from speaking.

“Eh!?” She didn't even have time to stop him. As he turned to the voice, she saw that Abel was still speaking with an irrepressible verbiage, which did not leave her a space to intervene.

“We did our best to deliver Her Eminence's message in person, but, of course, meeting the Empress in person was beyond our means. Even so, you need not worry, because we asked a local noblewoman, the Marquise of Kiev, Astharoshe Asran, whom I already knew before, to serve as an intermediary. The message will have reached its destination; you can be sure of it.” “Ah? Bu... Father... Wait a minute...” But what was he saying!? Esther nervously adjusted her habit as if to signal him, but Abel did not stop chattering for an instant, gesturing exaggeratedly with his hands.  “Yes, we suffered the unspeakable to achieve it. Abroad, right? One does not know how things are done... To fulfill our mission we spend our days without stopping running up and down... tears come to my eyes just remembering it now that I tell you, and without doubt, you will cry too... Imagine, I lost three kilograms!” 

Where did all this nonsense come from? Esther managed to come to herself and resist the curiosity to see how far the priest would be able to go. 

“Wait... wait, father! Stop speaking nonsense!” She did not know what this foolishness was about, but if it continued like this, Caterina would end up thinking that they had not seen the Empress. Covering Abel's mouth with her hand, Esther yelled in the direction of the Cardinal:

“Ignore him, Your Eminence! We do…”

«We did speak directly to the Empress!» Just when Esther, red with exertion, was about to shout that phrase...

“Cardinal Sforza, I beg your pardon...” An elegant male voice echoed out as the door opened. Looking up, the Cardinal met a man who was greeting her respectfully and who was leading a group of three people. He was middle-aged and wore the purple sash on his habit that indicated his status as archbishop.

“Forgive us for interrupting your conversation, Your Eminence. His Holiness and Cardinal Borgia have arrived.” “Hello Beautiful!” The second voice would seem to have been made up of a frivolous shake spiced with kitsch. It was hard to imagine anyone less suited to wear the Cardinal habit than the young man with long dyed hair and a nasal voice who had just entered. This was Antonio Borgia, the Minister of Information. “How long, right?! Makes sooo much that I did not see how fantastic you are that seems that my aesthetic sense have atrophied, you know? How are we doing?” “Good afternoon, Cardinal Borgia. I see you are very happy. If I'm not mistaken, we met the day before yesterday in Rome, right?” 

Responding sharply to the young man, Caterina turned her gaze to the third figure in the group. Seeing the face of the teenager coming up behind the two men, her cold gaze softened. 

“Ah, Alec…! How was the flight? Are you dizzy again?” “Y..., y... yes, sister...” Dressed with beautiful white clothes, the Pope Alessandro XVIII spoke with a low voice. In addition to being extremely shy around people, to the point of bordering on autism, get out of Rome or even out of the Papal Palace supposed one horrible adventure for him. Anyways, the face of his sister seemed to calm him a bit, because he went on, stammering: 

“I..., I got dizzy a b..., a little... b... but now I'm fi... I'm fine...” “Really? But you don't have very good color. I'll make someone to prepare some medicine for you... Wait, I'll take the opportunity to make the introductions, since we're all here. This is Sister Esther from the Secretary of State. She is the Saint of Istvan” 

Exhorted by Caterina, the nun saluted respectfully. “Nice to meet you. It is an honor to be in your presence, Holiness.”All Vatican employees knew of the reserved character of the pope. In order not to startle him, Esther spoke in a calm voice as she placed a light kiss on his hand.“I am not worthy of you granting me the grace to kneel before you... “ “Ah...! N..., no...” At the touch of the young woman's lips, the pope went from pale to flushed. His breathing quickened, as if he were going to have a heart attack, and he withdrew his hand in embarrassment. ”And…, and…, I… And…, and…, I…, I…”

“Holiness, you must be tired...” said the first man who had entered, placing his hand on the shoulder of the babbling teenager. Maybe half a century of his life had already passed, but his face had manly features that surely wreaked havoc on the opposite sex when he was young. With an attentive expression, he made the young Pope sit on the sofa.

“The show will take a while to start. Get some rest here. If you allow me, I will handle the speech.” “Thank you, Archbishop D'Annunzio...” 

Before Esther's eyes, the Pope was panting hard, as if he were going to have a panic attack or something. The one who wiped the sweat from his forehead to reassure him was Caterina. 

“Forgive me for putting you through something like this, but this ceremony took so much effort that...” “Oh, does not matter! It is an honor to be able to do our bit to the work of her eminence and the Vatican.”

 Emanuele D'Annunzio, Archbishop of Istvan, smiled kindly as he took Caterina’s hand. After kissing her like a gentleman kisses a lady, he turned his serene green eyes to her beautiful face.  “I wrote the script for tonight's play myself. I am afraid that it will not be up to the refined taste of Her Eminence, but it will be my honor that you listen to it... I do not know how the representation will turn out, but...” “It'll be great, you know? Sure: super, super good.” 

The one who responded in this way to the humble words of the archbishop was not Caterina, but the other cardinal present. Antonio, adjusting his bangs, continued with a slightly annoyed voice.  “Because, hey, haven't we helped you with production from the Ministry? I mean, the stage, and the direction, and the actors... Aaaaall of it it’s super mega first class. So if it goes wrong, it will be because of the script, you know?” “We will be forever grateful for your support, Cardinal Borgia. It is an honor that you have dedicated your valuable time to our representation...”

D'Annunzio's words were kind, but there was a hint of provocation in his tone. His green gaze was fixed on the young man, like an adult lion facing the cub that wants to take his place. 

“Today's ceremony is very important to us, because our recovery will serve to show it to the world. Its success will also serve to show the power of the Vatican… We hope to continue having the support of the Ministry of Information from now on.” “...” 

Although the tone was defiant, it could not be said that there was anything really wrong from the archbishop's words. Antonio was silent, something strange in him, as if not knowing what to answer, clearly feeling the difference in maturity that existed between him and his interlocutor. 

In his fifties, Archbishop D'Annunzio was an experienced man who had played a crucial role in the Vatican since the time of the previous Pope Gregorio XXX. As the right hand of Alfonso d'Este, who was then head of the College of Cardinals, he had held important positions as Director of the Holy Inquisition and Chief Secretary of the Vatican. In his spare time he had written dozens of novels and more than two hundred plays, and was considered one of the literary geniuses of his time. However, his brilliance had provoked the envy of Alfonso, who ended up moving him away from the center. His fame was surpassed only by Cardinals Medici and Sforza, the Pope's stepsiblings. No one but a skilled politician would have gotten Istvan city reborn from its ruins just a year after the catastrophe of The Star of Sorrow.

“Ah, but I have not yet greeted the main guest...” 

After silencing the young man, the archbishop turned quickly to Esther, who was silently observing the dialectical combat between the two high religious positions.

“This is the first time we met, but I know you very well, Sister Esther. I beg your pardon for having you come from so far away.” “Ple…pleased to meet you, Your Excellency...” Esther rose, embarrassed, from the sofa at the friendly smile of the priest and lowered her head, blushing at his manly features.“I am much honored that you invited me. It is an honor to meet you personally.” “Not at all, the honor is mine for being able to greet the Saint in person. I did extensive research on you to write this script. I've been dreaming of meeting you for a long time, but... the truth is that you have surprised me. I didn't think you were so beautiful...”       “I… beautiful? Not at all…” 

At the Archbishop's compliments, Esther buried her head deeply and turned even more red. Half confused, half flustered, she looked around for Abel to come to her aid. “It's the first time I've been invited to a box of honor at the opera, but hey, what a sight! Heh heh, I feel like God...” 

The priest was lost in his thoughts, observing the theater, and did not realize that the nun was looking at him. In her imagination, Esther kicked him on the back, while scratching her head, wondering how to respond to the archbishop.

“May I ask you not to call me Saint? It's a too important word that I don't deserve at all...” “You don't deserve it? You are too modest, sister… ” D'Annunzio replied, still smiling, as if enjoying the young woman's bewilderment. Extending his hand to fix her cap, the archbishop looked at her with mischievous face “You are the holy maiden who protected the people and killed the evil demon... As Archbishop of Istvan I cannot be grateful enough. Tonight's performance is my humble attempt to help your feat remain in the memory of future generations.”  “I am very grateful to you, but...” 

With a tight smile, Esther awkwardly shook her head. Her face had suddenly lost its rosy color. Saint Esther? What all that was about? 

She murmured that inside her with downcast eyes, it wasn't just because the name disgusted her.  

A year ago a man had expired in her arms. He was someone who had loved his human wife, someone who had decided to fight the world as revenge because the humans themselves had taken the woman he loved from him. 

The “evil demon” that D'Annunzio referred to was that being. Esther had been elevated to the category of Saint for the "feat" of having killed him, but there was something that did not convince her. All this seemed like a farce in which she did not want to be involved... 

“Ah, by the way, Your Eminence, what about Cardinal Medici? I thought he was also going to be present at the ceremony for the fallen...” “Unfortunately, his commitments do not allow him to leave Rome. He said he would send a representative, but… still not arrived?” 

D'Annunzio and Caterina began to talk about practical matters. Relieved that she was no longer the center of the conversation, Esther turned her eyes to the audience. 

More than a thousand spectators filled the theater. They were all famous people from the city, but Esther didn't recognize any faces. During the reconstruction of Istvan, D'Annunzio had given preferential treatment to the industrialists of Rome and Venice to install their factories and banks in the city. The attendees were all rich people of that kind. The echoes of the conversations that were heard were not in Hungarian, but mainly in the official language of Rome. 

The curtain was still down, but the actors could be seen waiting behind the scenes, probably to come out to say hello before the performance. Among them was a smiling young nun, the heroine portrayed in the flier. The hunchback next to her would be the Marquis of Hungary. The sinister makeup highlighted his monstrous appearance and showed long predator fangs. It couldn't be clearer that he was the bad guy in the story. 

The fragile and beautiful heroine would go through many difficulties, but in the end she would defeat the monster and bring peace to the city. It was such a predictable story that just by seeing the actors you could already imagine. 

But… 

«But the fight end was much more complex», thought Esther, grabbing unconsciously the rosary that hung from her neck.                                                                                                                                                                        «It’s not the urge to kill. I don't have such bad taste as to enjoy killing others. This is a fight for life» 

The man who had said those words was not a mere “evil demon”, nor had Esther fought him for strictly holy motives. There were still many things that she did not fully understand, but it was clear that this had been a struggle for survival. If she had lost, it would have been Esther and her companions who would have died. Yet the young girl couldn't get a question out of her head: «Was it really an inevitable conflict?» 

A nun like her couldn't ask such a question out loud. As long as she worked for the Vatican, a doubt like that was tantamount to questioning her own identity...

“Eh?”

Esther was lost in her thoughts for one moment, but at once came back to herself. Among the actors who had gathered in one corner of the stage, a figure that had gone out discreetly from behind the curtain of the opposite corner had called her attention. 

 It was one girl more or less of the same age of Esther, she had brown skin, an unusual color in the region, and her hair of a raven black. The combination of the daring opening of her dress with the long gloves decorated with precious stones gave her an extremely dramatical air. But what attracted the interest of Esther was neither her figure nor the clothes she wore. Those purple eyes that glowed in the well-proportioned face... she had seen them before somewhere. 

“That girl looks familiar to me...” “Is there something wrong, Esther?”

The voice that echoed behind her was of the lanky priest, who was wandering absent-mindedly around the royal box. As he devoured with his eyes the plate of tea pastries next to the young woman, he asked:

“Suddenly you were silent, doing that face… Oh, do you have a stomach ache? Do you want me to eat those pastries? I don't mind doing you that favor...” “No,” Esther replied dryly, cutting off the priest and added, pointing at the girl with her finger: “Doesn't that girl looks like someone familiar to you, father? I've seen that face already... and not long ago.” “Eh, what girl?” The priest asked in an intrigued voice, and looking where Esther was pointing, he looked confused. “I don't see any girl… Ah, you mean that actress over there?” “No, I mean, the one that has come from the other si... Huh?”  

When she looked back to the stage, Esther furrowed her brow, as well as Abel. The female figure that she had seen an instant before had disappeared. “But how strange... she was there a moment ago...” “Wow! Is that the actress who plays your role? I had seen her in the flyer, but in live she is even more beautiful!” Abel had already lost all interest in Esther and was absorbed in watching the group of actors. He made no effort to hide the drool from looking at the actress. "But what a beauty! Both in style and in attractive it is much better than the original… Ah, but don't be angry, Esther. It is undeniable that she is much more beautiful, elegant and seductive than you, but you have your special appeal. You don't have to worry.” “I have to take that as a compliment!?” 

Esther put the cup of tea on the plate, ready to answer the priest as he deserved, but...

“Ah! The representation is about to begin...” murmured the Archbishop, raising the eyes to the clock and got up to say goodbye to the Pope and the Cardinals. “Holiness, Eminences, I hope you enjoy with the performance. Excuse me, I will give the welcome the public... Come on, Sister Esther.” “What!? Me?” 

Esther was stunned, pointing her finger at herself as she blinked in surprise.Why did she have to accompany the archbishop to greet those people?Seeing the nun's confusion, the archbishop smiled and in a sweet voice, he dropped the bomb:  “Let's greet the audience together… I suppose you have prepared a little speech.” “Sa... say hello to...? A speech!?” 

At those completely unexpected words, Esther was dumbfounded. It was a joke? He couldn't expect for her to just come out on stage in front of the crowd and improvise a speech! 

“Wait ... wait! It's a bit hasty...” “But haven't you come prepared? How clueless my Saint is... Well, what can we do? As I assumed something like this could happen, I have allowed myself the freedom to prepare a small draft. You just have to read it.” “Eh…? But…” 

The archbishop seemed to be completely serious and handed her a pile of papers. Esther received them without knowing very well what to do and looked doubtfully to the priest, looking for his help...

“Ah, Esther! If you go on stage, can you ask that actress to sign an autograph for me?” Let it say,«To Father Nightroad, sweetheart» or something like that, okay? Heh heh heh...!” “!” 

Saving her killer instinct for later Esther heaved a deep breath.There was no way out of it.            

 "Ugh, I'm late!"

Although it was still early November, the winter cold had already fallen on Istvan. Gloomy clouds covered the sky, and although the building was supposed to be equipped with heating, the white breath of the people walking through the lobby of the Opera House could be seen. 

However, the male figure that rushed into the hall seemed immune to all of it. From the gigantic man who crossed the room devastating the carpet emanated a suffocating sensation of summer heat. It goes without saying that such a figure attracted all eyes, as if a monster from another world had suddenly appeared in the room; but the man seemed oblivious to it and advanced with a hard look, as if he were entering enemy territory. 

“What a misery to have suffered a setback precisely when I am representing Cardinal Medici! This mistake can be very expensive, Petros!” 

Dressed in the uniform of a secret police officer, Brother Petros looked up at the clock as if observing an ancient enemy. Although there were still twenty minutes until the start of the performance, he had committed a very serious fault by not having arrived before His Holiness made his entrance. 

Anyway, he had only arrived in the city a few minutes ago, sent by his superior, who had too many business holding him back in Rome. He had not arrived by air, like the Pope, but had taken the land route. The planned inspection of the military facilities had taken him longer than planned, and that had caused the delay. 

Although the inspection had been satisfactory, it was scandalous that the director of the Holy Inquisition arrived after the papal retinue. No doubt a severe reprimand from Francesco awaited him when he returned. If it was just a row that awaited him... There was one other thing that Petros had to worry about... 

“Where will the honor box be?  Eh…? Where the hell am I?” 

As soon as he went through the lobby, Petros stopped. He had to accept that he was lost and began to look around, but none of the doors he saw were the ones he was looking for. 

Indeed, he did not know where he was. He had stormed across the lobby, but had no idea how to get to the honor box. Resigned to search blindly, he began to scan the surroundings with a fierce grin, to see if he could find any sign, but could do nothing more than make a passing child cry.

 The issue was that the box of honor was not accessible from the general entrance but it had its own access, but Il Ruinante had no way of knowing that. He gritted his teeth and prepared to undo his way when...  

“Oh!”

Behind the intrepid warrior monk came a small cry of pain. 

Turning around, Petros had collided head-on with a girl who was walking behind him. The girl fell on her back to the carpet, dropping what she was carrying. 

“Aaah! Forgive me, sister! How clumsy you are, Petros!” 

The man tried to apologize as he picked up the papers, which had been strewn down the hall. The nun was still moaning on the floor, clutching her bonnet.

 “Excuse my ineptitude! Are you OK? Eh? You!?” As he helped the nun to stand up, Petros' face changed as he roared in surprise at his interlocutor, who was still reeling: “You are Esther Blanchett!” “Ah, brother… Petros, right?” Moved by the violence with which the inquisitor had spoken her name, the young woman stepped back, raising her tearful gaze to Il Ruinante, and bowed to him. “We haven't seen each other for a long time… Ah, thanks again for your support in Carthage.” “No, please, I'm the one who owes you... But what am I saying?!” Petros began to respond to the greeting automatically, but quickly came back to himself. This was not the time to chat! “Esther Blanchett! What are you doing here!? This is not the place for you!” 

Finally the nun straightened with surprise in her eyes. “Well, I was getting ready for the speech. Archbishop D'Annunzio has ordered me to greet the audience with a few words and was reviewing the script...” “Has the archbishop ordered it? Impossible. How can it be that...?” Laughing like if he was talking to a little girl, Petros glanced at the script, his expression suddenly turning from skepticism to surprise. Topping the sheets was… the archbishop's seal!? The inquisitor began hastily reading the text. “Wha... but what...?! «Before all of you gathered here I want to raise my voice to denounce...»”

«Before all of you gathered here, I want to raise my voice to denounce that there is pure Evil in the world. I want to raise my voice to say that as long as that Evil is not exterminated, we will have no future. We must unite to fight and defend everything we love, everything we respect. It will be a difficult and tough fight, but all united in our Faith we must face…».

 It was unbelievable, but it seemed to be, indeed, the script of a speech. And it took up almost fifty pages. The tone was a bit affected and overly dramatic, but the closing archbishop's signature seemed authentic. 

“Hmmm! And the archbishop signed it... But I can't believe it! Why did he ask you to…!?” He said, looking at the nun with suspicious eyes. “Are you plotting against me!? Tell me the truth or you will regret it!” “Eh? The truth is that I have no idea what you are talking about for a while now...”

The young woman scratched her head, honestly confused. It was like talking to a drunk who did nothing but repeat the same story. 

“It's not that I don't find it strange to be here, really. First I receive a notice from the Duchess of Milan to come to Istvan, then they ask me to give a speech... The truth is that the...” “The Duchess of Milan… Cardinal Sforza!?” Petros reacted quickly to the young woman's words. The Cardinal... what was that viper up to? 

Actually, Petros was most concerned about what the Pope's stepsister might do during the visit. Taking advantage of the absence of Cardinal Medici, she could try to manipulate His Holiness or do some strange maneuver... He had to be prepared for anything, and the facts gave him reasons to suspect. So the viper had already set off... But he would not trip over the same stone of Carthage again. This time they would not escape from him! 

Staring at the nun, who was staring at him in bewilderment, Petros clenched his fist. That witch had played with him in Carthage. Just when he was about to uncover her plot, all evidence had been destroyed. He knew with certainty that she had had contact with the vampires, although it had escaped him at the last moment. But this time he would catch her. He would discover what is she plotting around the Pope and would denounce it to the world!

 “Ah, there you are, Sister Esther...” 

A cold voice roused the inquisitor from his inflamed musings. It was an elegant male voice, interrupting him as if to protect the nun. 

“I've been looking for you for a while. Eh? I think we've met before… What brings the Inquisition here, Brother Pietro Orsini?” “Yo... Your Excellence!” Hearing his secular name after so long, Petros turned as if an electric current had passed through his body. Seeing the archbishop approaching, he gave a forced salute. “How long! What a joy to see you again!” “Yes, a long time, Orsini. The last time we saw each other was when I left my charge as Director of the Inquisition, right? You were just a kid and look at you now. How time flies!” “I will never be grateful enough for your advice and your attention back then!” Said Petros, bowing deeply, as if he were a spring doll. 

Il Ruinante’s sword was feared inside and outside the Vatican, but there were four people he bowed his head to. One of them was Archbishop D'Annunzio. 

“Please excuse my delay. The review of the troops has taken me longer than I had calculated and the roads were collapsed...” “You can tell me that later...” the archbishop cut him immediately, turning around and say with sweet voice to Esther, who was watching them in astonishment. “Sister Esther, have you had a chance to read the script? It’s almost time for your speech. Let's go up on stage.”  “Yes, I have read the text…” replied the nun, embarrassed, taking the papers that the inquisitor had returned to her with an impetuous gesture. “But, Your Excellence, am I really supposed to read that speech?” “Eh? What do you mean, sister?” 

The archbishop was surprised to see the dark light that had covered the young woman's eyes, and asked with a cautious expression: “You don't like the parliament I have prepared for you? Does it not meet your literary expectations?” “No, is not that. It is wonderfully written and conveys the ideas very well… But the message…” The nun choked with her words… After hesitating and stammering for a few seconds, she looked up, determined. “Why make such a clear call to war? A year ago we fought the Marquis of Hungary, it is true. But it was a pure struggle for survival. We did not think of pretty phrases like «divine glory» or «security of human society»...” “Ah, that's what you mean...” D'Annunzio interrupted the young woman's fiery voice with great serenity. The archbishop's smile keep its charm, but his tone had a certain inhuman echo. “You don't have to take it so seriously, Sister Esther. The public gathered here tonight have not come to hear the truth. What they expect is a dramatic and exciting story… They want the story of the heroic maiden who struck down the evil vampire. Isn't it our obligation to meet those expectations?” “B... but...” “Listen to me, Saint...” D'Annunzio silenced Esther with a gesture and shook his head. The hallway had begun to fill up, and the archbishop lowered his voice, returning greetings to passing guests. “You are a very sweet girl, Esther. I fully understand that you don't like harsh words. But think about it for a moment. Although it has recovered a lot this year, Istvan is still going through difficult times. The life of the citizens, your compatriots, is still very hard. Think how important it would be for them to have a heroine...” 

The archbishop placed a very white hand on her shoulder as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Esther Blanchett, you must be their Saint. You must be the image that encourage their hearts. You must be the strength and the hope of all those you love, of all humanity. I will show you how.” “...”

Esther was doubtful at the powerful words of the archbishop, after opening and closing her lips as if not knowing what to say, the girl sighed deeply.

“Good. I'll try.” “Good girl.” Nodding with satisfaction, D'Annunzio opened the door that led to the stage.“Sister Esther, it's time to go on stage. The public awaits you.” “OK…”

«The public awaits you». She would have felt joyful, but the worried expression of the girl did not changed. Even it could be said that the suffering is evident in her face. Anyways, Esther began to walk dragging her feet. She went through the door the archbishop had opened for her and disappeared down the dark corridor. 

 After closing the door, D'Annunzio made a sarcastic face. 

“What a difficult Saint to handle... one breaks one's back to turn her it into a star, and she, in return, complains...” “Ah?”  At the archbishop's cold laugh, Petros looked up in surprise. Opening the door again, D'Annunzio said in a clear voice, to the surprise of his former subordinate: “I never know how to treat smart ass girls. It's so boring having to lecture them like that… The tools should be quiet and just do what they are asked to do…” “A tool...? Your Excellence, when you say «tool» do you mean that girl? And what does it mean to «turn her into a star»?” 

Petros asked in astonishment. So he didn't really think she was a Saint? 

“Ah! So the director of the Inquisition is still there...” 

The Archbishop of Istvan turned as if he was seeing a stranger and responded with the tone of someone who had just discovered a stain on his clothing.

“You heard me perfectly. Saint Esther is nothing more than an image created by the Vatican. It is a huge fiction promoted through the management of the media and the investment of large amounts of money...”

 The bishop spoke confidently in the dark corridor, as if explaining everything to a tough-minded subordinate.  “As you know, the Vatican is losing power over the secular states. To stop this trend, it is necessary to regain the center of social attention. Creating a Saint is part of that project. Esther Blanchett is nothing more than a tool for our plans...” 

«You shall not worship idols», the Bible made it very clear. Didn't the archbishop know? D'Annunzio spoke as if he did not feel any apprehension or guilt for playing with the life of a girl and the faith of millions of people like that. “Besides, as a tool, it's first class. Her past is impeccable, and it doesn't hurt that she's so pretty… She has a very cute face, don't you think, Orsini?” “Eh? Well, I wouldn't know...”  At the knight's embarrassment, the archbishop looked at him with mocking eyes. “You don't know about that? Well, it doesn't matter… I have to introduce my Saint to the public. Orsini, you can go to the box of honor. Then we will talk about your delay. Get ready.”  

D'Annunzio turned, dropping those cold words, and reached for the door that led to the stage.

“Ah!?”

Frightened, Petros started to run away from his former superior, but just as he was about to give a farewell bow, he remembered that he still had something to ask him about. “Your Excellence... I really have a question to ask you before I present myself before His Holiness.”  Half-closing the door, the archbishop turned with an annoyed gesture at the voice of his exasperating interlocutor.  “What?”

D'Annunzio's voice was reminiscent of a teacher announcing to a student that he had failed. Petros barely repressed his desire to flee and ran from the archbishop just to ask: “I have just reviewed the City Guard, but… Your Excellence, what does this deployment mean? I have seen a complete division or even more. What about those tanks and aircraft!?” D'Annunzio continued walking as if he was unaware of the alarm that echoed in Il Ruinante's words.  “I admire how you have managed to reform in just one year an organization that had been completely destroyed. But for a public order force it is a bit out of proportion. Is there something going wrong?” “Eh? What is going to go wrong?” The archbishop stopped for the first time.

 Twisting his mouth, he answered coldly to Petros’ puzzled gaze. “Certainly the Guard's strength now exceeds what it was a year ago. Nobody hides it. But if the situation of the city is taken into consideration, it cannot be said that they are sufficient. After all, Istvan is the central column of the Vatican's eastern defense line. Their defensive potential has to be as great as possible... don't you think?” “If you will allow me to speak frankly, I think there is a problem of magnitude! The Second Division of the Vatican Army is deployed in this area, which is responsible of the defense work. The City Guard should only perform police functions. What is the point of equipping the police as if it were an army?”

The only response Petros' fiery speech got was a cold smile.  “Well, well, I see that you still don't understand anything, Orsini...” 

The archbishop made no effort to hide the malice and contempt on his face. As if he felt sorry for the stupidity of his interlocutor, he made a face, laughing through his nose. “Yes, there is an army division stationed here. But in the event of war, those troops will leave the region. Won't Istvan have to defend itself, then? That is why we have increased the strength of the Guard... Of course it costs us a lot of resources, but that is why we can’t afford to reduce it.” “But that dismantles all the plans of Rome and Cardinal Medici! Also, you speak of war, but now that the region has stabilized, where is the risk of war going to come from? Neighboring countries respect the authority of the Vatican and there is no sign of any disturbance to happen so...” “Brother Petros!!!” 

The scream echoed like an ice whip. Throwing a defiant look at the inquisitor, the archbishop harshly carved his words into the dark air of the hall.  “Are you the Director of the Holy Inquisition and you don't understand something like that!? Have you forgotten who the mortal enemy of humanity is!? Have you forgotten that this Empire of terrible devils is next to us!? If you've forgotten, I'll remind you. Never forget: this is Istvan, the front line of the battle against vampires!” “Ah…? But...” 

Anyone who had attended their dialogue would have been frozen in surprise.Il Ruinante, known as the most implacable man in the Vatican, had fallen silent. 

When he noticed Petros is not going to reply, the archbishop softened his expression. “Well, I don't want to lecture you anymore. Go back to the lobby. Didn't you come to escort His Holiness? That's all you're worth for. At least accomplish the mission you've been given.” “Y... yes! With your permission...” Gritting his teeth, Petros bowed. 

He was not at all convinced by the reasons given by his former superior, but he had no proper reply at the time. He didn't have time either. He turned towards the exit when... Just then the door closed in front of him. And, as if they were waiting for that moment, the guards locked the door from outside.

“Hey…”

Had they locked him up!? Petros looked around him, bewildered. The doors that led to the stalls were all closed with bolt. The lighting in the hall began to dim as the lighting on the stage took hold. The warrior priest then heard the sound of the presenter's voice through the microphone: 

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Istvan Opera House! In a few moments the Star of Sorrow will begin before all of you.”

“Petros, you are so clumsy!” 

The inquisitor began to get nervous. He had to find a way to get to the Pope's box as soon as possible! However, as much as he searched everywhere he was not able to find an open door. Apparently the security measures were meant to keep the public effectively locked inside the theater. 

He actually couldn’t make someone to open one of the doors invoking his authority as head of the Inquisition, if he did it, that would divert the attention of the speech that was about to start on the stage, and when they found out, the archbishop would scold him again some more. 

“Before we start, the author of the script will say a few words of welcome… His Excellene the Archbishop of Istvan, Emanuele D'Annunzio!” “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” 

While Il Ruinante was sweating while desperately looking for a way out, the welcome speech had begun on stage. Taking the microphone, the Archbishop smiled with all his virile charm. However, the voice that began to echo through the room had the serenity of a servant of God. 

“Welcome everyone. It has been a year since I received my appointment as Archbishop of this city. The road has not been easy, but with the help of the Lord and the collaboration of all of you, we have managed to happily overcome all the difficulties that have been presented to us so far. During this year we have defended in Istvan the glory of the Lord, who brought us a girl. I think we can be proud of it.” 

After uttering those phrases almost without breathing, the archbishop was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes as if he were remembering all the efforts of that year and raised his face to the ceiling. Petros realized that this was not more than a theatrical gesture, but the audience seemed to understand it as one reaction of sincere religious piety. Some mature women even began to sob quietly in the excitement.  Then, after checking that the entire room had gone completely silent, the archbishop opened his eyes again. Still smiling serenely, he raised his right arm to point to the small figure waiting at the base of the stage. 

“Tonight I am moved to have the opportunity to express our appreciation to the person who made the rebirth of this city possible. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the heroine who freed Istvan from the evil monster! Our hope before the devils that threaten us! Sister Esther Blanchett, Saint of Istvan!”

As thunderous applause rose, the hesitant figure of the nun appeared, equipped with a microphone. Blinking because of the bright spotlights and shrugging, the girl looked tiny in the middle of the huge stage, as if she were just a child.

 «She's just a poor kid…» Petros thought as he watched Esther walk across the stage. Come to think of it, the poor girl deserved his compassion for many reasons.First, because she belonged to the Ministry of Vatican Foreign Affairs, which was the lair of that witch, Caterina Sforza. Besides, she had to work with those agents, who had a horrible reputation of being sacrilegious. He couldn't imagine how she could lead a pious life as a nun between them. 

Above all, the entire show that night had not been sought by her, but had been implicated by the surroundings of D'Annunzio. At her young age, being worshiped as a Saint and being commissioned to make a speech to such an audience could only be considered a misfortune. 

“Uh... uh... Go... good night to every... Oh, no...! Good evening, la… ladies and gentlemen. It is an honor to introduce myself to you. I am Esther Blanchett. I do not have words to express my gratitude for this opera to be performed in my honor...”

  While Il Ruinante looked at her with compassionate eyes, the nun had started babbling. The inquisitor’s heart cringed just to see how her forehead was beaded in sweat and how her blue eyes were moving full of insecurity. Trying to smile faintly, the young lady put on the table the script that the archbishop had given to her before. Just when she deployed the first pages and prepared to start reading... the tragedy happened. 

“Ah!?”

The first thing that echoed through the speakers was a small groan. The pages of the script Esther was going to read flew across the stage. 

“No!” Cried Petros, as the papers fluttered like leaves blown up in the wind.Had she forgotten to re-tie the rope that held the pages together? The nun was trying to pick them up in haste, but many had already fallen off the stage. The girl's tensed face had lost all traces of color. But Petros and the rest of the audience didn't have to hold their breath for long. 

At first, the nun was so stunned that she couldn't even speak, it was natural.

 Having to improvise a speech in front of such a crowd, and also being people of such power in society… Even a veteran politician would have found it difficult. How could it cost to a girl who had just turned eighteen? 

In view of the events, no one would have criticized her if she had fled the stage. But the Saint did not.Biting her lip as if she had made up her mind, she rose to her feet, adjusting the hem of her habit. She was still a little pale, but a powerful light shone in her blue eyes. As if attracted by that look, the audience's attention was concentrated on the girl's face when she began to speak... 

“I beg your pardon for my clumsiness… The fear of speaking in front of so many people has left me a little stunned…” Esther began in a vigorous, almost savage voice. “A play will be performed in my honor tonight and I want to express my enormous gratitude to you for taking the time to attend the performance”.

Was this the same nervous nun who had trembled a few minutes earlier? Esther addressed the audience with her head up, as if all the perplexity of before had disappeared. 

“Well, to be improvising she does it very well...” Petros said to himself with admiration, as he looked for the archbishop with his eyes. At the backstage, D'Annunzio seemed to be more tense than before, but he was still looking at the young woman with a satisfied smile. As the nun had read the script before, a few as she remembered, things would go more or less as he had planned. Petros expected the same when he looked back at the girl. She would probably invoke God and the Vatican, would praise the courage of the combatants a year ago and call those present to remain united. If she said that, nothing would be noticed... 

“Thank you all. That was my intention... But now I have changed my mind...”

It would take a long time for Petros to forget how the atmosphere in the room changed with just that short sentence.What she’s going to tell them!? Glancing to the backstage, he saw how the archbishop had stiffened, staring at the nun in amazement, as if observing a ceramic doll that had suddenly begun to speak. 

Esther was not looking at the archbishop, but at the room full of spectators. In her pupils were reflected the innumerable puzzled faces that had been nailed to her. The audience seemed hypnotized by the words of the Saint, who whispered slowly:  “I have come to pray with all of you for the souls of those who shed their blood in battle a year ago. For that I have returned here, to my city.”  The voice was not overly powerful, but it completely dominated the room, where not a cough was heard. Without being too high or too low, it filled the air with a clean and serene feeling. It was the perfect example of a pleasant voice. As proof of this, when hearing her, Petros had completely forgotten that he had to go to the royal box, nothing further from his mind at the moment than to get away from there.

Il Ruinante had been lost in thought, listening to the flow of that voice.

“A year ago, we got a lot of blood flowing. Blood of our comrades, blood of our enemies… It was a horrible battle. But then I thought there was no other option. To survive you had to fight. We couldn't help but spilling that blood. In those moments it seemed that we were at a crossroads between life and death. Yes, that was really the situation. That's why we took up the sword... But now, a year later, I have the feeling that «there was no other option» is not a sufficient explanation for that fight...”

Esther was silent for a moment after the long speech. At the view of the girl closing briefly her eyelids to soak in those memories, Petros thought that this nun did not seem at all like the girl that he knew. More than someone alive, it recalled to the images of Saints that appeared in the murals and religious paintings of the cathedrals.  When she opened her eyes again, a sweet but intense light shone on them. Looking at the audience, which was in absolute silence, she continued with a calm voice. 

“During that battle I met one person... one person who back then was my enemy. He was the man I was trying to kill. But he also believed he had to kill to me to survive.” 

Her expression could not be said to be very refined, nor the sound of the words to be very beautiful. In spite of this, there was nobody in the room that was not captivated by the voice of the Saint. None of those celebrities and distinguished people uttered a single word. They were all focused, listening to the girl, who kept talking as if this was the most normal thing in the world.  

“But it wasn't true, no one should have died; However, due to a misunderstanding, at first, both he and I thought that we had to kill ourselves to survive… And not only him. I believe that among those we killed and who killed us there were many like him. Many who laughed like us, cried like us. Many who we hated. All possibilities were destroyed by a misunderstanding.” 

Perhaps it was the memory of that man that made a trace of suffering appear in the serene voice of the girl. The audience also felt the sting of that painful memory in their chest. Looking ahead, Esther spoke without hurrying, without forcing the words, penetrating every corner of the hearts of the attendees.

“Ladies and gentlemen, distrust yourselves. Be suspicious of justice. Maybe we are too simple. Be suspicious of your ideas about justice in the world. Are they really correct? Aren't they often just what we want to believe? Don't we impose them on our neighbor many times? Be suspicious. Mistrusting these issues is not bad.” 

«Be suspicious of justice».

Hearing those words, the audience felt a slight shudder. Since the nun had started her speech, that was the first moment of doubt. The audience had been rapt with her until then, but little by little the audience began to come to their senses. Esther was not flustered by the change in the audience, so she pushed herself even harder in her speech, expressively moving her arms.

“It may be that these words make you sad. You may think that everything is false and that nothing is certain. God and justice are nothing more than mirages… But they are not. We can distrust, distrust and distrust, but something will always remain. There is always something that cannot be denied… For example, on a winter night like this, meeting with the whole family in front of the stove and feeling the warmth in the heart…” The families in the audience exchanged glances, as if encouraged by the girl's words.“Or look at the starry sky from a deserted meadow and feel how precious our little existence is...” 

As to embrace to all those present, the nun extended the arms and continued talking, pretending this time caress the soul with the voice. 

“Love of oneself and of neighbor ... that's what remains in the end. That is what makes me believe in God. Because God loves us and has given us these gifts. So let's pray together. Let us pray for all the blood that was shed and the souls of all the fallen… Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.”

 Although they had wanted to rehearse it before, the response of those present would not have come out more conjoined. It seemed they had coordinated not only the breathing, but even the pulse. The echo of those words had scarcely been consumed when a thunderous round of applause went up. The ovation did not diminish after the nun finished bowing in thanks. After the archbishop's speech, the audience had remained seated, but Esther's words made everyone in attendance stand up to cheer her on. Even Petros, seeing the reaction from the room, was unable to suppress a cry of admiration.

“And she's just a little girl… What a charisma!” 

 N: A very old Petros’s coloring ;) 

Just with the dubious name of Saint, the girl had managed to move more than a thousand people. This was not normal. Thinking ahead, Petros felt a slight concern.  

If the artificial Saint that D'Annunzio and Borgia wanted to make was added that ability to attract the public, the potential of the girl was not negligible. If she developed her career under Sforza's guidance, she would be a formidable opponent for Cardinal Medici and his followers...

“Hey you! Where do you think you are going!? This is not the time for that yet!” 

Those reproachful words that came from the base of the stage brought the warrior monk to his senses. Turning, he saw a Guard soldier in his gray-blue uniform arguing with someone carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Probably wanted to give it to the Saint. The one who carried the bouquet was a young adolescent. From the daring evening dress she was wearing, she seemed to be the daughter of one of the attendees. However, her dark skin and pronounced features were a rare combination in these lands. Her eyes were slanted and her pupils a stunning amethyst color.The soldier holding her in the gray gloves began to speak in an increasingly harsh voice.

“Didn't you hear me? If you want to give the Saint a bouquet of flowers, you have to wait for her to come down from the stage. Go back to your seat and stay still.” “Stand aside,Terran!” 

The young woman slightly moved the arm that the other was holding, It seemed a only symbolic gesture, but what happened then was anything but that. 

The soldier, who was six feet tall and weighed a hundred kilos, flew off incredibly and slammed his face against the wall. The impact must have made him pass out. The horrible noise of his nose breaking was the only thing that accompanied his collapse to the ground. 

The scene did not go unnoticed. Muffled shouts of astonishment began to be heard from the audience, and in the box of honor the cardinals had risen with tense faces. However, Petros wasted no time in observing the reactions of the attendees, because he had noticed that the young woman had too long canines between her lips...

“No! Get away from her you all!” Shouted Il Ruinante, wielding with each hand the screamers that he wore on his waist. “She is not human! Is a…!”  “Nice to meet you, Terrans. My name is Shahrazad and I come from the True Human Empire…” said the girl, with a voice as beautiful as a bell, but at the same time full of defiant force.  

As the bouquet of flowers was dropped, the long jeweled gloves she wore began to glow. Leaning them against the wall, the girl, or rather the vampire, looked directly at Esther, who made no sign of wanting to flee. 

“This evening I come to see the killer who you call the Saint... and to kill her!”

 With a thud, the wall began to crumble, looking like a spiderweb. 

                           ════════════╠☆╣════════════

And this is it my dear friends, I hope you have enjoyed this and the new Petros’ coloring I added. I tried hard not to include personal notes in the translation, because I love Petros so much and I was like reacting to everything that happened to him.  Maybe that’s the reason I love this arc so much XD  I want to thank you a lot for your patience, for those who still support this and help me out with it, and to those who share the love by rebloging and liking this. I truly apreciate that.  See you soon on the next part, stay tunned because the best part is next to come. Please stay safe and healthy <3 

[sopxhiea]

Wicked

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Enemies to Lovers!

Warnings: Large age gap.

Summary: Alfie and Y/N learn to keep face in between their loved ones but the truth soon threatens to come out. Unavoidable consequences are quick to follow.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“At least put your guards down for me.”

“You know our love would be tragic.”

The sound of barrels rolling on the ground is all that can be heard while someone toys with the paper in front of them. There’s silence but it’s not the comfortable kind, it’s the kind that makes small beads of sweat form on Ollie’s forehead while he waits for someone to speak from the other end of the room.

Alfie stares straight ahead.

Your brother is nonchalant about the situation that’s going on, thankfully. He looks at the paper in front of him and reads it, over and over again before sliding it back to its owner on the desk. Your eyes never meet his.

It’s the meeting you dreaded. You and your brother had been called to Alfie’s office to renew the contract your father had made, it was inevitable and even though you’d spent last night on Alfie’s bed while he found ways to make the meeting go as smoothly as it was humanly possible, you find yourself to be nervous.

Jack, your older brother by a couple years, is not fond of Alfie even though he’s grown up in front of him like you did. They used to get along, you think, until Jack realised that he wanted much more than what he had and ruined anything good in his life after everyone you and him were related ended up under the very soil you walked on.

It’s a tragic story, really but not a story one would be able to make out after taking a look at you. You both look like posh high class citizens, which you are but there’s more to the person you are than what you look or act like. Alfie knows that well.

It had been going well.

You’d managed to hide the fact that you’d been waking up with the very enemy before you for the past four months, there was not one track you left that would enable them to trace things back to the two of you. It was also rather surprising, just how long it had lasted for the both of you.

And you’d fallen, slowly.

It was your fault for thinking so much about him. You knew it was inevitable, you falling for him, that morning where he had cooked you breakfast, you knew that you’d fall for the bear of a man if you didn’t end it right there and then but you didn’t have the heart to do such damage, not to him.

Anyone who knew you well would just laugh at your face if they’d heard just how gentle and kind you were with him. You were usually the one to be cruel, to dismiss any feeling and get on with business but you’d gotten carried away with him, your heart was taking the lead on something in your life for once.

Your guards were still up but they were much weaker when Alfie casted a look on you. They didn’t have the stability and power they once possessed as he worked through every little puzzle you presented to him with yourself. He was much more patient than you’d thought he’d be.

“It looks alright to me..” your brother spoke as Alfie eyed him, he’d never been fond of the young lad since he was much more careless than he should’ve been.

Your brother turned to you and you nodded before speaking. You wouldn’t tell him that you had revised the terms more than twice with Alfie before and that was why they were clean cut and done well according to your brother’s needs. You saw the surprise in Jack’s face due to how understanding Alfie was being and silently thanked him with your eyes before speaking.

“Yes, I don’t see why we need to delay the signing of the contract any further.” the words were breathier than they should’ve been but Jack was too daft to catch on anything unlike Alfie who found himself to grow hotter at the sight of you.

In the last months, he’d seen you in many scenarios but this was the most professional and uptight he’d seen you be in a while due to your brother’s presence. He’d seen you moan his name while your nails dug into his skin, sometimes you’d smile at him in your bare glory in the mornings. He recalled the times you’d play around with Cyril while waiting for the food to cook but you were far from any of those women now.

You are the enemy.

It’s impossible to miss the lines of hate and spite Jack feels towards the man in his eyes. You don’t blame him for not liking Alfie since the family and business history always complicates things. He’d never been the sharp one in the family either so you see the reasoning, although you don’t agree.

Alfie sees your attachment to your brother, him being the only alive one out of your family despite how useless he usually is. He’s not built for this business, everyone knows that but your dead family possesses way too much power for anyone to speak ill of you or your brother. 

But not Alfie.

You know the rumours about him to be lies, mostly because you’ve gotten to experience his kindness in the last months and also because he’d never been that way to you. Ever since you’d known the man as a teenager girl, he’d been the only sane person around including your family in this shit hole.

You and your brother soon sign the deal and shake hands. You don’t miss the glisten in Alfie’s eyes when his hand touches yours and you thank heavens that Jack is entirely too daft to miss it. Alfie’s hand caresses your waist and your eyes widen but he lets go after a squeeze and you realise that Jack has already made his way downstairs.

“Nice job being subtle.” you speak but he senses the sarcasm. He doesn’t lean into kiss you or caress your arms like he usually does when you’re both alone. You see the glint of amusement in his eyes and he speaks.

“Jack’s one daft fuckin’ lad, yeah..” he chuckles while his voice fills the oak walls. You nod at his words but the silence is soon to follow.

“Yeah, he’s not the one for details.” you speak and your voice echoes in his mind for a while for the sole reason of missing you.

“Luv, I-” he speaks but you’re fast to cut him off, there’s a million dollar smile on your lips as he looks at you, clearly taken back but he knows you know what he’s about to say.

“I need to leave, Jack might get suspicious soon.” you say and your words are like glass, cutting through his inked skin as he nods. He knows Jack probably things you’re discussing something about business.

You know what he’s going to say, he’d said it last night in a mere whisper when he thought you were sleeping. You’d pretended not to hear it but the words had been haunting you ever since.

There’s no goodbye this time when you leave through the front door.

-----

Things tend to take a left turn when you think they’re going in the right direction. The room is filled with the kind of energy you remember would fill the walls when your father would scream at you. Cyril is hiding somewhere upstairs to get away from the shouting and the cries that leave your mouth each time you try to explain something to Alfie.

It was one of your worst traits, had always been. You’d cry when you weren’t able to express yourself clearly. Anger and frustration would peek through your eyes and the rest was a fountain of little glass pearls.

“We can’t keep-” your voice is soft and shaky and this time, he’s the one that raises his voice at you.

“Ya’ were the one, yeah, fuckin’ givin’ me the idea in the first place.” he says, his voice booms through the corridors of the large house, you feel smaller than you already are from the one end the of the room as he stands in the other.

You know he won’t hit you but the fire in his eyes is not the kind you’re used to seeing.

“I know that. I just think I’m getting-” you try to speak but he cuts you off. It’s only his voice and eyes that make you feel a tiny bit of fear. The rest of him is calm, he doesn’t seem angry or sad, he’s just confused as to why the conversation is taking place right when he was about to confess his love to you.

That’s what he’d whispered against your skin last night when he thought you were sleeping.

“Wha’ the fuck are you gettin’ love?” he asks, voice in the usual tone as he tugs at his beard.

You could say many things: you were getting tired of him, of his affection. Maybe, he thought, you were getting bored. 

“Attached.” you speak, your voice is low but he hears it and feels his heart stiffen. It’s his fault for thinking that things would go well.

He then stills for a while like the ocean at sunrise. He’s calm s he stares right into your eyes, he knows now for a fact that you’re starting to have feelings. He sees the fronts you’re still able to put up, your guards are not down despite tears rolling down your cheeks. 

It’s too late, he thinks. It’s too late for you to get out of this mess both of you managed to create.

“At least put your guards down for me.” he speaks, no swear words or a harsh tone this time as his voice fills your ear. The voice you were once so desperate to hear. You still are but you can’t help but feel helpless.

This is the first time in a while you’ve felt this helpless.

You try to explain yourself to yourself first, tears covering your face while you start to pace around the room. He sees you close down further and go down a hole that would be highly damaging but he watches for a second, he watches the face you show no one else but the mirror.

Your small whispers and sobs fill the room this time as Cyril comes out of one of the rooms, the animal can see the tension is no longer there but it’s something much worse.

It’s heartbreak, the one thing Alfie has so desperately tried to save you from.

“I-” you start speaking but the words escape you. Alfie’s quick on his feet as he reaches for your small form in the other side of the room. He wraps his arms around you and you feel yourself get engulfed by his embrace.

He smells of vanilla and rum.

You’re lost in time at that second as his embrace is all you can feel, it’s all you want to feel. As you slowly calm down, your hands hug him back. His soothing whispers fill your ear and he’s soon to realise that you’re trying to deal with much more outside of this situation you have with him and this argument is the last drop.

You let him take control when he sits down on the large sofa you made him buy for his living room. He pulls you into his lap and gives you another engulfing hug. It makes your heart ache, that there had been no one before Alfie to care about you, let alone care about you the way Alfie did.

His lips meet your temple and hair every now and then, he plants gentle kisses and feels your breath calm down with every soothing whisper that leaves his mouth. You soon collect yourself, the shock of being seen by someone finds your little heart and sends a wave of fear through it.

To be truly seen by someone.

You lift yourself up from his lap but his hands catch you by your forearms. You stand up right in front of his seated figure. Even though he’s sitting, you can’t help but realise just how big he is compared to you, you dismiss the thought of him on bed like you’d seen him yesterday with a shake of your head and start speaking.

Your voice is not a whisper anymore. It’s the you he knows.

“I better leave.” you speak but he doesn’t understand. He knows you need to be taken care of, in every which way and he’s willing to do that.

But he also remembers the rule. 

It’s the one thing you’d asked from him and from yourself, the game was played with two souls and you were also to blame. You’d blamed him for some time, for getting so carried away with everything but you were quick to follow his drunk in love steps. 

You knew you were falling in love because it was something out of a dream for you. It was intense and painful, you dreaded the times you’d see the real truth behind his eyes, that he loved you back because then it would just be a tragedy. Your heart was okay being the one in love, you could work it out on your own but his silent pleas telling you to stay told you just what you needed to know.

That he was just as mesmerised by you.

“Alfie, listen-” your words cut through his whispers, telling you to stay but he stands up right in front of you and towers above you soon after the words leave your lips.

“No, luv, you fuckin’ listen.” he says right into the room, you can hear him loud and clear while he stands just centimetres away from you, holding you by your arms.

“This, yeah, ain’t somethin’ you can just throw in the fuckin’ garbage.” he says, the voice that used to feel like pure sin now just feels like glass cutting through your skin.

He’s right. You know he is.

This the thing your mother had warned you about before she disappeared into nothing. You know she’s in hell somewhere for the things she’d done, looking up at you and cursing for just how silly you’re being, giving your heart to this man.

“We said-” you speak, trying to reason with him and you try to lift your arms but his gentle grasp prevents you and he looks right into your eyes as he speaks.

He needs you to know.

“I know what we fuckin’ said, right, I was right there, luv and I remember it clearly.” he speaks, there’s a billion emotions swimming in his blue orbs while the afternoon sun hits him in a way that makes you think he’s out of this world. He feels like it.

“Too clear for my own fuckin’ good, yeah.” he says and lets go of your arms. You can see the conflict on his face, morphing with worry every now and then.

You don’t speak for a while but watch him fight with himself, the mighty Solomons is having a mental conflict right before your eyes. There’s not much to be said, you know that. It was the one rule in a very dangerous game you proposed and you both dismissed it, now you’re deep in a hole that can either be lethal or beautiful.

You speak your mind since nothing else makes sense as he stares right at you. Your voice is shaking again. “You know our love would be tragic.”

A few tears find the corners of your eyes, you don’t let go of them because he’s watching. You want him to think you’re stronger than you are but he already knows that you’re stronger than he’ll ever fucking be. You sigh and look at the walls after the words, a thousand sobs align at your throat but you’re not letting them go. 

“Ya’ didn’t think I thought of that?” he speaks, walking towards you until he’s towering above you like he usually is and you look up at his saddened face.

“We were supposed to be hating each other.” you say while staring right at his chest since it’s at your eye-level.

He is the enemy.

He’s the person you were designed to hate. Your father had made you into a business machine that functioned well but he had forgotten one thing, that you thrived on danger. Alfie was exactly what he had told you to steer clear from and now, you knew why.

It doesn’t matter that your heart soars at the thought of the man before you nor does it make sense. You know nothing is enough to create an exception when it comes to enemies, it won’t count that you’re in love or that you crave him and him only. 

It doesn’t matter that he makes you happy and that he makes you laugh. It doesn’t matter that Cyril already thinks of you as his mom and Alfie’s house is decorated with the things you bought him. It doesn’t matter that no morning is good if he’s not next to you. 

Because he’ll always be the enemy.

“You’re th-” you speak but he mimics the way you cut him off and holds your chin up so your eyes meet his.

“The enemy. I know, luv.” he says and you feel his hot breath against your face. 

You shake your head at his words, teary eyes meet his merciful ones and you feel your guard come down, little by little. You want to curse at your damn self for being weak at the sight of him, for bowing down at every little action of kindness this man has shown you.

“We don’t get to fall in love.” you shake your head at your own words as Alfie listens. He always listens. “You and I, this isn’t how things are supposed to be.” you speak once again, eyes closed as you try to make sense of things.

Before Alfie had jumped on a chance to be with you with no strings attached to the either of you, you’d done the proper calculation of outcomes the situation would bestow upon you.

There would be heartbreak and grief in most situations. You saw versions of you not getting attached to him, this would just sail smooth and when the deed was done, you and him would go your separate ways. There were other situations. You’d leave him for being a dick or he’d leave you for being a bitch. 

But he had done none of the things you knew men to be capable of doing.

He hadn’t shouted, the only time he’d touched you was with gentle hands of a simple caress. He’s kissed you hello and goodbye and bought you flowers and baked goods. He’d showered you with affection and compliments and he’d let you in.

 It didn’t matter how fucked up things were, he’d still let you in.

“Tell me how this is gonna work, right, and I’ll follow every fuckin’ rule.” he speaks against your face as you find yourself to be puzzled about the whole situation, the confusion is evident in your eyes.

“That hasn’t worked well before.” you speak and he chuckles feeling victory at the fact that you’re now looking more amused than sad. You watch the lines of worry transform into something else, something much more cheerful as his blue orbs stare at you.

You want it to consume you.

The nights filled with meaningless talk, the waking up together. You want to get lost in his touch and never let go. You want to wake up next to him and spend the day in bed. You know you’ll miss him, you’ll miss all of it.

The small touches and how he whispers your name into the night. You’ll miss the way he looks at you when he knows you’re in public and the way he manages to make your heart do multiple flips.

You know you can’t let go, not just yet.

So you curse yourself and all the mistakes you had done seem like a little one as you try to conjure up the courage to ask him one thing. It’s a mistake, you know that. You already know the man is in love and so are you even though he’s the one person you were supposed to steer clear form.

You’re to blame for the things that follow.

“Why don’t you stay the night..” a small pause follows “....so we can figure this out?”

----

Tagging: @clairecrive​  @parkbearum​ @sourirez​ @bicevans​ @mollybegger-blog  @97freaknik.  @fuseburner  @kiaoizz 

a/n: I think there will be another chapter? Let me know if you guys want another one and also what you thought of this one?

Stay safe and Happy Eid!❤︎ 

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