#and they’d be surrounded by the hustle bustle of the people outside but all alone

[chilapis]

Wanting to gush because I’m exhausted and half asleep (while being unable to sleep) and therefore sentimental and sappy Vs. I will kill my self if I name other guy

[jikookiekosmos]

Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv​​​​ for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk​ @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?”

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

[onechicago-upsteadrhekker]

the trouble with wanting (is i want you) - part two

Friends!!!!! I’m here! I’m back! 

I can’t apologize enough for the long wait! It certainly wasn’t intentional, but alas that is the life of a college student and unfortunately school comes before upstead as much as I wish it didn’t!

I hope part two gives you all the feels and makes up for the long absence, however, I do have something to share with you that may make you want to kill.

Part two turned into part three...

So, SURPRISE! This isn’t a two-shot; it will definitely be a three part story and I am happy to say that part three is written (mostly, I have to tweak a few things) so that will be up sometime next week depending on my school schedule.

Thank you again for your patience and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter that contains no real plot, a lot of fluff and mutual pining!

As always, let me know what you think in the comments!

Tagging: @imjustwritingg, @anniesardors, @thetwit, @angelsjedi, @chichichicken, @carissalizz, @maya-asturias

Let me know if you want to be added to this list for part three!

Read on AO3

The next few days are filled with mandatory walking sessions, pain meds every four to six hours and Jay’s smiling face. He was the only reason why she wasn’t absolutely losing it because while she despised hospital stays in general, hospital stays in another city filled with people she didn’t know were downright insufferable.

But he’d made it go from something akin to glorified torture to slightly tolerable.

The bullet wound was starting to heal and the incision from where they’d had to remove her spleen was looking great according to the nurses and everything seemed to be on the right track healing wise, but anything regarding this thing that she and Jay had going on? She had no idea.

One would think getting shot in a different city, causing one partner to literally drop everything and come rushing to the other partner’s side would end in heartfelt confessions and relationships born at hospital bedsides.

But that’s not what happened, and Hailey was seriously starting to wonder if she and Jay were ever going to be on the same page. Or at least read the page aloud because she was fairly certain he felt the same way about her that she felt about him.

Because just partners don’t fly eight-hundred miles to be by your side even if you are hurt.

Right?

And it didn’t help that he was there with her almost twenty-four seven, giving her no time alone to process what he was telling her without words because before this, it had just been subtle glances and warm smiles, teasing words and affectionate eyes.

But this. Flying eight-hundred miles. It was tangible and real, and she couldn’t quite believe it was really actually happening, but then he was there, bringing her her favorite foods from restaurants she’d found during her time in New York and barely going back to her hotel room for sleep, staying by her side to keep her company and catch her up on five weeks’ worth of Intelligence news.

He was there for every lap around the hospital floor and every dressing change. He was there to shoo out the nurses when they were starting to get on her nerves and he was there, rubbing her hand softly when the pain of her bruised ribs made it hard to breathe.

And then there was the way she was constantly being referred to as ‘Jay’s wife’ instead of her own name much like when she was back in grade school and her teachers would call her ‘Sam’s little sister’.

He’d made quite the impression on the nurses and for some reason neither she nor Jay had set the record straight on the actual status of their relationship since that first day when he was mistaken as her husband.

(It was probably the same reason that they hadn’t talked about what Jay flying to New York meant. And to be honest, Hailey was sort of hoping that Jay would set the record straight on their relationship, if only to let her know where they stood.)

And she definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge the dangerous little thrill she got from hearing herself referenced that way or think about what it would be like for real. Nope, not a chance or she might never come back down to reality after having narcotic-induced dreams of three little words, ‘I do’s’, freckled little faces and laughing green eyes.

But then it’s so close, she can almost taste it and it should scare her, but it doesn’t.

Because she can feel it in the way he grins at her and in the way he tells her goodnight at the end of a long day of keeping her company. It’s in the way his arm brushes hers when he’s helping her sit or stand and it’s in the way his eyes hold hers for far longer than he should; his green eyes swimming with hints of the things she dreams.

But until she hears it. Until one of them gathers the courage to actually say the words and put a name to what they already know and feel, then she’s going to wait and guard those dreams carefully because she knows deep in her heart that when they return to Chicago, it will have either worked out or it won’t at all.

She’s not sure exactly when the pieces will fall into place or if they’ll even fit together but she knows they are at the point of no return. And honestly, that scares her the most because no matter what happens, it will always be Jay for her.

Because he was her home, and he had a place in her heart no one else could ever have and that terrified her because she knows that she’ll never get over him if for some reason it doesn’t work out between them.

She tries not to think like that because she’s pretty sure what she’s seen in his eyes is something that looks a lot like love, but it’s hard to be totally optimistic when it seems like the universe is always keeping them not necessarily apart, but not really together. At least not in the way she’s pretty sure both of them want.

So, she sits in her hospital bed, watching him laugh at her attempts to renegotiate her discharge date with the nurses and listens to him chatter about what Will’s been up to and how much he hated being tossed between Kevin, Kim, Adam and Vanessa while she’d been gone even if he liked working with each of them.

They’d been flying crooked he told her and that her not being there threw them all off so he’d be happy when he could take her back home and so would everyone else. In fact, they’d told her as much when Kim had facetimed Jay the day after he’d arrived in New York to get proof of life and see for themselves that she was truly going to be okay.

It was sweet and nice, and it made her realize how much she really did miss her team turned family even if she already felt like she was home just because Jay was beside her.

He was beside her and he was there with her and every time he looked at her over the beeping of the heart monitor she was hooked up to, everything else faded from view. The facetime calls with their friends, the friendly nurses checking up on her every few hours, the general hustle and bustle of hospital life happening outside her room.

It was just them and she’d be lying if she wasn’t looking forward to her discharge date for reasons other than just being out of the hospital because she knew then, she and Jay would truly be alone stuck in a hotel room in a city that neither one of them knew.

And that, she knew, would be the true test.

*

On the morning of the third day she’d been in the hospital, Hailey was given the news that she’d be released by that afternoon. If she was physically capable, she’d be jumping for joy but because of the dozen stitches in her side, she’d had to settle for celebrating internally.

Moving was still slow-going and she still felt overly tired far too early in the day, but she was confident that a night in her own bed (or at least the bed she’d been sleeping in for the past several weeks) would do her a world of good.

And she wasn’t going to think about how Jay being potentially next to her would probably make her sleep better than she’d ever had.

She didn’t know exactly where Jay had been disappearing to when he’d left the hospital at night, but she’d given him the key to her hotel room and he always came back looking well-rested so she felt safe assuming he was sleeping in the same queen bed she’d been occupying for the past five weeks.

Hailey wasn’t quite sure what would happen tonight when it was time for him to go to bed, but she wondered if this was the day they were going to finally get it right, nestled under the bed covers, whispering dreams and promises, her side aching but her heart so full.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Her gaze flicked up to Jay who had entered the room and was walking towards her, his hands already reaching out to help her pull on her coat. Hailey looked up at him as he focused his gaze on putting her left arm carefully through the sleeve of her jacket.

She wasn’t sure if a person could have reversed déjà vu, but the action brought her right back to another hospital room in a different city when she was still reeling from the panic she’d felt surrounding Jay’s terrifying brush with death.

When she’d helped him pull his familiar, worn black jacket over his sling right before she almost told him she loved him.

And now here they were again, except this time it was him helping her and this time she knew they weren’t going home without having the conversation they should have had then.

“Thanks,” She murmured softly, trying to ignore the way her heart raced when he briefly squeezed her hand.

Hailey gingerly sat down on the side of the bed, already worn out and sore from the morning’s activities of getting ready to leave.

“I called a taxi. It should be here any minute,” He grabbed her duffle and sat it beside her, “You sign the discharge papers?”

“Yes, thank God,” She muttered accepting the pair of Sperry’s Jay was handing her.

He chuckled softly, “You are so impatient.”

She shot him a look, “I’m sorry. And who was the one practically begging me to spring him from the hospital the minute he was awake and talking?”

He had the wisdom to look sheepish, but he couldn’t hide the wide smile threatening to take over. Clearly, they were both happy to be leaving the hospital room behind.

As Jay busied himself with packing the last few items into the duffle he’d brought Hailey the day he’d arrived in New York, he can’t help but watch her. She’s moving slowly, but she seems pretty alert for someone who got shot and had relatively serious surgery only four days ago.

Her eyes are bright if not tired and her hair is haphazardly thrown up in her signature high pony, but Jay still thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and he almost tells her just that.

His mouth is open, forming the words when she turns to him after sliding on her shoes, catching his gaze with eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

And he thinks this is why he can never tell her how he feels. She’s always taking the words away with a flash of blue and a dash of blonde because he wants his future to look like her so badly, it terrifies him. And even when he does finally find the words, he knows he will never be able to tell her with words just how much she means to him.

His lips quirk and he shakes his head, turning his attention back to the duffle to zip it up before nodding towards the open door of her hospital room, “No reason. You ready to go?”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to push, and they are going to have the conversation they need to have right here and now, but then she doesn’t and some part of him feels disappointed that they are making themselves wait once again.

He’s not even entirely sure why because nothing is holding them back now. Not really. They are finally both in the same city with no kidnappings, rigged elections or anything else threatening to tear them apart and yet, they are still walking that very fine line of partners and best friends to something openly affectionate and loving and real.

It’s almost too perfect because while he rushed here in a state of panic, not knowing what he would find, Hailey, for the most part was okay and now they were stuck here with basically nothing to do but wait till she could fly without risk of infection or complications from surgery.

He’s not sure if he should be worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop or thrilled that the universe seems to be giving them a hint that it was finally time to take that leap of faith from partners and best friends to something more.

*

“Hailey, you are clearly in pain.”

After the short taxi ride from the hospital, they were finally in the hotel room and now firmly engaged in a battle of wills.

Hailey was currently giving him a glare that reminded him of the way she would silently warn him from across the bullpen to not do something he might regret or when they were down to the last couple of fries during a long stakeout and he was reaching for them.

Generally, he didn’t win the fights when she wore that look but today, he was determined to stand his ground.

“Jay,” It was practically whined and while he understood her reluctance to take the pain meds she’d been prescribed, he couldn’t stand watching her in pain.

In the few times that Hailey’s been injured during their partnership, it hadn’t been too serious, and she usually had a good attitude about doing what she needed to do to recover. So, seeing her like this, pale and tired and just not her normal, spunky self, broke his heart and he wanted to do everything in his power to fix it.

Starting with the meds she’s determined not to take.

He was happy to at least see the trait that was so undeniably Hailey in her eyes because otherwise, she looked like a lifeless shell of the badass detective he knows she is. The oversized pillows she was propped against makes her seem so tiny and she almost blended in with the sheets she was so white.

If he was being honest, she was starting to look worse than she did when she was in the hospital and that definitely concerned him enough to possibly make him take her right back there or at least call Will for his opinion.

Sighing, he uncrosses his arms to move from where he’s been standing a few feet away from the end of the bed holding the prescription bag in a clenched fist.

Her eyes track his movements as he comes to gingerly sit down at the edge of the bed, leaning over on his forearm to look at her closely, “Hailey,” He shakes his head, “Please just take them. At least so you can get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

For a second, he thinks that she’s going to keep fighting him, but then he sees the weak mask she’d had in place slip, the dull look of pain and exhaustion becoming clearly present in her eyes.

“Okay, fine,” She sighs out wearily, and he’s a little surprised that she conceded that quickly even if he knew he’d already won, but then she cocks her head slightly, “What do I get in return?”

Yeah, he didn’t think he’d won that easily.

Jay pushes the flirty and slightly suggestive response that instantly pops into his head to the back of his mind. There would be plenty of time for that later, or at least he desperately hopes so because he knows that now is not the time to start anything of that nature.

When he tells Hailey what she deserves to hear, he wants her feeling halfway decent and looking healthier than she does right now.

If they were in Chicago, he would bribe her with Bartoli’s, but they weren’t. They are in New York and she’s already made it quite clear that the pizza here is a tragedy, so he doesn’t think she’d want that particular food even if he could find a copy-cat deep-dish place.

So, he goes for the next best thing, “What about some Greek? It probably won’t be anything like Greek Islands, but I’m sure I can find a decent place. I could grab you some Pastichio. What do you say?”

The way her eyebrows furrow and her bottom lip sticks out adorably makes him want to kiss the pout away, but he doesn’t.

She shakes her head, “I don’t want Greek.”

Jay bites his lip briefly and refrains from making a comment on the childish tone of her voice as he regards her carefully for a quiet second.

He would never admit it, but he knows he’s a much worse patient when their positions are reversed so he’s more than willing to put up with her stubbornness because he knows it’s just a way to cope with the pain.

And besides, he loves her. He would do whatever he could to make her feel better.

“I’ll get you whatever you want as long as you take your medicine, so why don’t you tell me what it is you’d like to have,” He pushes himself up off his forearm to sit upright, but he still holds her gaze.

She sighs carefully, picking at the covers before answering him, “A Snickers bar.”

Jay raises his brows.

In the years he has known her, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat a candy bar. She could down a piece of chocolate cake at an event, or the random chip bag she’d found during a stakeout, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat the overly processed candy bar before.

“You like Snickers bars?” He can’t help the slightly disgusted tone of his words.

Hailey’s expression instantly morphs into a defensive one, “A girl can have guilty pleasures, and this just so happens to be mine. Now, you said you’ll get me anything if I take my medicine, so you’re lucky it’s not something like a new gun. Or a car.”

Jay rolls his eyes and Hailey desperately wants to swat him but she’s already in a significant amount of pain so she doesn’t think that would be the wisest decision.

“Relax, I will get you your Snickers bar. I promised, didn’t I?” He smirks a little as he moves off the bed to grab his coat that’s thrown over the back of the desk chair, “I just can’t believe I didn’t know you liked candy bars.”

Shrugging a little, she tries not to wince at the pain that small movement caused her, “I don’t indulge in them much; only when I’m not feeling good or if there’s literally nothing else to eat.”

After gathering up his wallet and phone, Jay stops in the middle of the room to regard her for another moment. He shakes his head, “What else don’t I know about you, Hailey Upton?”

She gives him a little smirk of her own, “Lots of things, I’m sure. I was once told I was aloof about my personal life.”

“And just when I thought I was getting to know the person under that tough exterior,” He feels the smile creep over his face, and he doesn’t care that he probably looks like a man hopelessly in love because he is.

He watches as her own expression softens and for just a moment, their eyes meet. A thousand words of unspoken love pass between them and he can see his entire universe in those captivating, blue orbs just as she can see a million promises in his.

Hailey shifts and winces at the sharp pain it causes her, cursing herself for ruining the moment. Those pain pills she’d tried refusing were looking pretty good right about now as the throbbing intensified around her still tender ribs.

Jay noticed her discomfort. He always does, and she could see the concern so clearly on his face it made her heart swell in love. He’s the most caring man she’s ever met, and it’s one of the things she loves most about him.

“As soon as I get back, you’re taking your meds,” Jay frowns, rubbing his thumb briefly along his hairline before dropping his arm, “I’d give them to you now, but I’m not sure I should leave you alone with narcotics in your system just in case. And besides, you need to take the antibiotics with food, so I’ll pick up something while I’m out.”

She just nods, picking up the remote for the television, “Sounds good. I’ll be here watching whatever trash I can find on TV, so hurry back.”

Jay gives her one last smile that warms her from head to toe before he opens the door and walks out.

*

When Jay walks through the hotel door about an hour later, he has the overwhelming urge to call out a ‘Honey, I’m home’, but he doesn’t want to wake Hailey if she’s sleeping and he’s not sure how she would respond to the term of endearment even if it is said teasingly.

It’s funny how that is the thing he feels would be crossing the practically non-existent line they have towing for the past several days. Or weeks really if he’s honest with himself.

As it turns out, she’s not sleeping but still in very much the same position he’d left her in. The TV was on, a rerun of ‘Happy Days’ playing quietly but she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention. Instead, she’s looking down at the phone in her hand, clearly scrolling through something before glancing up at him.

Her eyebrows rise as she takes in the various Target bags he’s carrying in both hands. Hailey let her phone drop in her lap, more interested in what Jay had bought because all she’d sent him out for were Snickers Bars, “Did you buy the whole store?”

He frowns at her as he finds the bag of take-out Chinese he’d ended up getting for their late lunch-early supper to set on the nightstand, “No, I did not, but I did get real food and,” He holds up the other bags he was carrying, “I got you your Snickers.”

Whatever else he’d bought was forgotten as she beamed up at him, already reaching for the candy bar he was digging for throughout his purchases. When he finally found what he was looking for, he tossed it to her, and she immediately ripped open the wrapper.

He makes a face as she bites into the sugary chocolate, “I still don’t know how you eat that crap.”

She responds with an eyeroll because her mouth was too full to make a witty comeback.

“You could at least wait till you ate actual food first,” Jay arched a disapproving eyebrow, his nose wrinkling as he watched her make an obvious display of enjoying her treat. He shakes his head and deposits the Target bags on the lower end of the bed to pull out the bottles of vitamin water he’d bought for her.

“Here, I got your favorite and a couple of new ones for you to try,” He handed her the blackberry flavored one before retrieving the pill bottles that were sitting on the nightstand beside their bag of food.

He read the instructions on each bottle then opened the oxycodone to dump one out, “Okay, you can have one right now and,” He checked his watch, “One at around seven then another at eleven.”

Hailey frowns, but takes the pill out of his outstretched palm anyway, “I hate the way these make me feel. My head feels fuzzy, and I can’t think clearly.”

Jay gives her a sympathetic smile and offers a simple, “I know” because he does know, but he also knows that if she has any hope of getting rest tonight, she needed to be well medicated.

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll try going all day without pain meds, okay? I just want to make sure you have a good night’s rest tonight since it’s your first night out of the hospital,” He tells her as he shakes out an antibiotic pill and then the iron supplement the doctor had prescribed her with for the next few days to hand to her.

Nodding, she knocks the three pills back and takes a swig of her vitamin water. Meeting his gaze, she reaches out to grab his hand and gives it a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Jay.”

The heavy tension that settles over them is now a familiar one and it’s almost comforting in a way as she tells him with her eyes how grateful she is for him.

After a few moments of silence, she clears her throat and withdraws her hand, turning her attention to the bags of stuff piled on the bed, “So, what’d you get?”

Jay blinks, shaking himself out of the trance they’d just been in as he rifled through the things he’d bought, pulling them out to show Hailey, “Well, I did some research and according to WebMD which was confirmed by my brother, weighted blankets can help with muscle soreness and speed up the recovery process.”

“I also got some ice packs,” He dumps out about a dozen before reaching in yet another bag, “And I picked up some of your favorite movies as well as a couple of pairs of fuzzy socks because I know you didn’t pack any and the hospital socks are terrible.”

The tears that spring to her eyes aren’t unexpected because the fact that he knows and remembers how much she loves wearing fuzzy socks when she’s at home decompressing tells her how much he cares even if he hasn’t really said it out loud yet.

The research, the weighted blanket, the movies, the treats, the socks; it’s slightly overbearing, but it’s sweet and it’s so undeniably him that it makes her heart hurt with the love she has for him.

She gives him a soft smile, “For someone who claims to not know me, he sure does take care of me and brings me all of my favorite things.”

“Well, after four years I would hope to know some things,” Jay smirks at her before moving to put the ice packs in the small fridge/freezer combo they had in the room.

He looks back at her over his shoulder, “But, I somehow missed your Snickers habit and it makes me wonder what else I should probably know, but don’t.”

Rolling her eyes, she watches as Jay moves back over to the bed, going for the food he’d sat on the nightstand.

“You know you’re not exactly an open book,” She points out with a wry smile.

He’s not an open book, it’s true, and even though she’s teasing him about it, she knows him better than anyone. Maybe better than even Will knows him. Maybe better than he even knows himself, and it’s ironic because the way she knows him better than anyone is more so through his actions and not his words.

She knows his heart through his acts of compassion. She knows his mind through his steady emotions. And she knows him because he lets her see the deepest parts of himself, unspoken secrets swimming in his eyes and dark memories whispered over drinks.

She knows the things that matter and the same could be said about the things he knows about her, but now that it’s being brought up, she does wonder if there are any meaningless habits she hasn’t bared witness to.

If her mind goes straight to those of a personal nature such as nighttime routines and shower preferences, then she’d never admit it.

“Well,” He handed her a container of Shrimp Lo Mein, “We’re stuck in this hotel room with basically nothing to do so,” Jay sat down on the bed, facing her with his own container of Chinese, “Let’s play a game.”

Hailey arches a skeptical eyebrow, “A game?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods as he takes a bite of his own Lo Mein, “Like one of those ‘get to know you’ games since we apparently don’t know much about each other.”

She frowns, a little unconvinced at this plan and what it could entail, but she’s curious and the slight woozy feeling she feels from the pain meds makes her ask, “What kind of ‘get to know you’ game? Like truth or dare?”

Smirking, he shakes his head, “No. Although, that could be extremely entertaining.”

“Uh-uh. No way am I drinking a bottle of hot sauce or jumping off the balcony or some other insanely difficult thing that you would think was easy,” She takes a bite of her food, trying to shake back the loose hair that keeps falling into her face, “I just had surgery.”

He’s full-on grinning now, chuckling at her impassioned response, “Nothing like that. I was thinking more along the lines of 21 Questions.”

Hailey tries to take another bite of her food, but her hair gets in the way again. She’s starting to get frustrated at the locks that keep falling into her eyes and mouth, making it hard to eat.

Sticking her chopsticks into the take-out container, she uses the now free hand to push her hair behind her ears as she shrugs, “Alright then. We don’t really have anything better to do other than watch movies and eat takeout anyways.”

The way his eyes sparkle at her answer is worth all the cheesy questions she’s sure he’s going to ask.

He stands up, shoving a used napkin into his now empty takeout container and she’s always amazed at how quickly he can down food when he wants to, “We can alternate asking questions and we don’t have to ask exactly 21 questions. It can be more, or it can be less.”

He throws his trash away and starts cleaning up the bed, moving all of the empty Target bags and the stuff he bought off to one side, “Is there anything off limits?”

She hesitates before saying no, shaking her head because while her natural inclination is to keep everything close to the vest, she knows there is nothing that she wouldn’t share with Jay if he asked her.

He makes her feel safe, and she’s constantly finding herself telling him things that she’d never said out loud before anyway, so she already knows that he will guard her secrets and feelings and thoughts deep in his own heart as if they were his own.

It’s like he knows what she’s thinking because the way he smiles at her is so gentle and the secretive sparkle in his eyes is what tells her that the same goes for him.

“You wanna go first or do you want me to?” Jay cocks his head, looking at her as he tears into the weighted blanket.

“You can go first,” She goes to take another bite of food when her hair falls into her face for what feels like the hundredth time.

She sighs internally, her frustration going unnoticed by Jay who had turned back towards the movies he’d bought, opening each of them as he tells her he has to make this first question a good one.

Pretty quickly after waking up from surgery, Hailey had found putting her hair up in its typical ponytail an almost impossible task because every time she raised her arms to gather her hair up, her stitches would pull, and her ribs protested loudly.

After several failed attempts that left her eyes watering, she ended up having a nurse put it up for her and she continued to ask for it done in the mornings before Jay arrived at the hospital to keep her company.

But now, there was no nurse to gather up her long, annoying hair when it keeps falling in her face and even though she’s stubborn enough to try it, Hailey knows if she pulls on her stitches or possibly breaks one, then she’s going to be paying for it tomorrow all because she wanted to put her hair up herself.

She sighs again, this one audible as she sets her Chinese container on the nightstand, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” He turns to look at her, his brows furrowed in concern.

Hailey bites her lip sheepishly as she snaps the elastic band around her wrist against her skin, “Can you put my hair up?”

He looks surprised for a moment before he smirks at the slight blush dusting her cheeks at having to ask for help with a task this simple, “Of course I can, Hailey.”

She hands him the ponytail holder as he walks over to the side of the bed, “But I will warn you. I’ve never done this before.”

She wants to tease him. Maybe tell him he’d better start practicing now if he ever hopes for a daughter one day, but it feels too on the nose when she wants that daughter to be hers too.

So instead, she smirks at him as he moves behind her to start gathering her hair up in awkward chunks. Hailey glances at him out of the corner of her eye, fake gasping, “Don’t tell me that the brave and noble Detective Jay Halstead, the man who jumps over moving cars and shoots sniper rifles doesn’t know how to put hair up in a ponytail.”

“Oh, shut up,” He grumbles good-naturedly, still trying to smooth her blonde hair into his loosely closed fist on top of her head, “It’s not like I’ve really had the opportunity or need to practice.”

Chuckling, she lets him concentrate on pulling her hair through the elastic and tries not to get lost in the feeling of his fingers in her hair and the warmth radiating off him. Her eyes flutter close and she marvels at how gentle he is even with the strength of his hands, well-conditioned in the act of squeezing a trigger.

And just like when making those shots, the precision in which he does everything is still there as he carefully tightens the elastic, securing her hair into place.

Hot breath hit the back of her now exposed neck and she can’t help but shiver. Before he’s stepping away, she swears she feels his hands brush her skin and she wonders if he’s equally as affected as she was by his closeness.

But before it can turn into anything, he’s smiling and settling back into his spot at the foot of the bed, gesturing to the ponytail he’d just completed, “It’s not as good as you do it, but I think it’ll pass.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Jay. It’s out of my face and it’s not like anyone will see it,” She grins at him as she picks up her food, intending to finish it off now that her hair won’t get in her way.

Jay frowns teasingly, “Hey, and what about me? Am I not someone?”

She smiles softly in amusement, “You’ve seen me in worse states and you’re not just anyone, you know that. You’re my best friend, Jay,” She hesitates because she knows that’s not strictly true. He is her best friend and he’s her partner but he’s also the man she loves, and it would be so easy to let the truth slip out.

Looking at him, she sees something in his eyes that looks like hope or maybe anticipation and she wonders if he thinks she’s going to tell him the one secrete she just can’t seem to get out. Maybe she would have told him if they sat there for a few seconds longer, but his phone buzzes and the moment is gone before it really even began.

Hailey wonders if phones are going to be their downfall.

She thinks she sees disappointment flash across his face, but she blinks and he’s looking at his phone with a serious expression.

“Is everything okay?” Her brow furrows as she watches him type out a quick response and put the device back into his pocket.

He shakes his head, sighing, “That was Kev. The Latin Players are on the verge of waging war against a new up and coming gang called The Jets.”

Interjecting, Hailey raises a brow, “As in West Side Story?”

“Yep,” Jay lets out a wry chuckle, “Anyway, the team flipped someone on The Jets’ side, and it looks like they are possibly willing to play ball so Kev was asking for some background info on my Latin Player connect because Intelligence is going to attempt to negotiate a truce before it can escalate to a full-blown gang war.”

She groans quietly, all too aware of the potential complications and ramifications that come from this type of violence, “That’s just what the city needs. A gang war.”

He huffs in agreement, dropping his head in disgust and she can see the tension in his shoulders. Even eight-hundred miles away, the crime and the innocent people that inevitably gets tangled up in it affects him.

Hailey frowns, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. She reaches out a hand to lightly touch his bent knee, “Jay.”

He looks up at her and the empathy she sees in his eyes makes her heart swell in what’s becoming a familiar sensation. Love and pride and admiration and respect for this man she has the privilege to know.

Her eyes soften and she smiles gently at him, an earnest look on her face, “If you need to go home, go home Jay. I’ll be alright here by myself. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, she might have laughed at the way his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, clearly not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

Recovering, his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head adamantly, “No way. They can get along without me. I’m not leaving here without you and I don’t care if you think you can take care of yourself because who’s going to help you change your bandages or make you take your medicine or keep you company?”

He challenges in a slightly playful manner, but the eyebrow he raises dares her to contradict him and she knows he is serious, “Besides, I need to be here if I want to keep my own peace of mind. I don’t work well without you, so I’m not sure how much help I’d be anyway.”

She knows that no matter the circumstance, Jay would always perform above and beyond the call of duty, but she also knows that this is his way of telling her that he needs her and the way he was willing to stay with her in New York makes her heart stutter in yet another way.

Before she can dwell on the feeling any further, he’s smiling again, his eyes crinkling with mischief, “Now back to the game. I think I have the perfect question for you.”

Sorry it ended in a bit of an awkward spot, but I decided to split it into two parts when I hit 10,000 words and I still wasn’t done yet lol so I didn’t know this was going to be the ending of a chapter.

I’d love to hear what you thought and stay tuned for part three!

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 5/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

The Final is a big deal. Even more so this year since it’s the last international competition before the Olympics — the last chance to show the world that you’re worthy of their attention come February. Buck’s been to five of the last eight Finals, and usually all the extra attention from press and fans, even during non-Olympic seasons, make him giddy with excitement, adrenaline pumping through him for almost a solid week before he actually competes.

This time, however, it’s been a week of feeling like he’s going to throw up any second.

It’s not because he’s doing bad at practices — in fact, he’s feeling better than ever, even got to work out his shaky landing on his quad flip that’s been haunting him for weeks. Ice looks the same no matter where you are, so it’s easy for him to get lost in the two hours he’s out there and forget everything and everyone else around him while he works.

When he steps off the ice, though, he’s thrust right back into a world where everyone is keeping an eye on him, watching him to see if he’ll live up to the expectations of being one of the best US skaters a top Olympic hopeful, or if he’ll crumble under the pressure of trying to be the best but always falling a little bit short, especially since the last Games. He’s always viewed it as a redemption — overcoming his injury and clawing his way back to the top — but he can’t control how outsiders view it, has no idea if they feel the same way or have counted him out all together. ESPN can do as many pieces on him as they want, but they can’t guarantee that people are still rooting for him. He’s sure people are talking about him, but he’s steered clear of social media knowing that even if there are nice things about him floating around, it’ll still make him feel worse, crushed by more and more expectations that he’s still not sure he’s going to live up to.

He misses when all that attention would make him feel like he was invincible. 

The biggest thing keeping him sane — despite the 6,000 miles between LA and Turin — is Eddie. They’d seen each other plenty before Buck left, Eddie still coming to the rink every day for PT and light workouts so he could stay in shape while he recovered. It was good, it was normal, even if Eddie wasn’t skating. 

But the night before his flight to Italy, the prospect of being at one of the most important competitions of the season, of his life, without most of his other teammates had hit him hard once again, sucking all the air out of his lungs and making the room spin. 

He called Eddie without even thinking and barely heard him say “Hello?” before he was spilling everything, letting out all the fears and worries he had been trying to keep under control since Bobby told him he was going to the Final. Despite being caught very off guard at 12:30 in the morning, Eddie had listened to it all — really listened, Buck could tell even over the phone. He sympathized with his fears and doubts and didn’t try to downplay them with empty platitudes. And somehow, in those frantic moments, to be heard like that was enough. Enough for the worries in Buck’s head to quiet down and retreat back into the shadows, enough for him to finally be able to breathe. They kept talking afterwards, the smooth timbre of Eddie’s voice making his eyes feel heavier and heavier, until they close and open again to sunlight filtering into his room, his phone on the pillow next to him with a disconnected call and a text that says You’re going to be amazing. Call me whenever you need me.

Buck didn’t think he’d take Eddie up on that, but he’s called him every day since he arrived and every time, no matter what time it is, Eddie picks up and listens to him.

On the last day of practice before short programs, dread settles heavy in Buck’s stomach and doesn’t get any lighter as the day wears on. He skates at the practice rink until his fingers feel numb with cold, and works out after even longer, blasting music in his headphones so he’s not alone with his thoughts for too long. He’s exhausted when he gets back to his room, the quiet that’s become so unfamiliar mixing with the dread and weighing down Buck’s entire body, feeling like it’s trying to push him straight down into the earth. Sinking onto the bed, he dials Eddie’s number.

Five rings, and no answer. He tries again. Nothing.

He tosses his phone to the side and sighs. The dread had lightened ever so slightly at the mere prospect of getting to talk to Eddie, but now it’s back in full force. If he lays here for too long, he’s worried he might melt right into the bedspread.

There’s a knock at the door, and takes every ounce of mental and physical strength he has to get him up. He has a brief, delusional thought that maybe the person on the other side of the door is the same one who didn’t answer his phone, but it’s quickly squashed when there’s another knock, followed by a voice that’s definitely not Eddie’s.

“Buck? I know you’re in there, and I can get my hands on a master key if you don’t let me in right now.”

Hen. 

He opens the door quickly, because he thinks she’s bluffing, but there’s also a very real chance that she’s not. He stands at his full height, pushing back against the dread, and plasters on a smile. “Don’t tell me you have notes 12 hours before the competition starts?”

She looks him up and down, looks through him it seems, judging by the way he suddenly wants to curl in on himself, hide whatever it is she’s looking for. She finds it, he guesses, because she nods decisively and pushes into his room. She grabs his still packed skating bag from the foot of the bed and tosses him his jacket as she goes back into the hallway.

“Come on,” she calls over her shoulder. “We’re going for a drive.”

It takes a minute for Buck’s brain to catch up with everything, but when it does, he hustles to meet her at the elevators. They make their way to the parking lot next to the hotel, where Hen unlocks the Fiat Bobby had rented for the week to get them around. “Bobby’s cool with you taking the car?”

She shrugs. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt me.”

“So I’m basically being kidnapped right now.”

“You would’ve stayed in your room if you really didn’t want to come.”

He smiles a real smile at that — she knows him too well.

Turin is beautiful at night. The city bustles with energy as people mill around, window shopping and filling up tables outside of cafes despite the early December chill. Christmas decorations have already been hung in windows and strung over rooftops, thousands of lights washing the streets in twinkling colors. Buck lets his eyes relax as he stares out the window, losing himself in the colors that pass by, hoping they’ll burn the heaviness right out of him. They stop outside the Palavela, standing out in its shadowy height among the brightness, decked out in ISU flags in anticipation for the start of competition tomorrow. Hen turns off the car and gets out, walking into the shadows of the arena and almost disappearing before Buck catches up. They make their way to the service entrance at the back of the building, where Hen pulls a key out of her coat pocket and unlocks the door.

Buck’s jaw drops. “I believed you about the hotel, but how did you get a key to this place?”

“A lot of people owe me a lot of favors,” she says, leading the way through the back hallways. 

It occurs to Buck that he doesn’t even know why they’re here, didn’t bother to ask, but regardless, he follows her deeper into the belly of the building. Hallways twist and turn as they follow them seemingly at random, until they finally make it to a set of double doors. Hen pushes them open, and Buck has a moment of panic when he sees what’s on the other side.

“Isn’t it bad luck to see the main rink the day before a competition?”

Hen rolls her eyes and walks inside. “You’re not getting married, Buck. And we’re not just here for the ice.” She keeps moving, up into the stands and further up the stairs to the mid-level walkway. It’s a former Olympic venue, so there’s thousands and thousands of seats, and the reminder that in a few short hours, they’ll be filled with people waiting to see Buck thrive or fail spectacularly weighs him down even more, coming down on his shoulders and threatening to make him stumble. He does stumble when he runs into Hen, who’s stopped dead center of the walkway, eyes warm and bright as she nods towards the other side of the rink.

Tears swim into his vision, but not because of shot nerves or worry this time (though those may be contributing to how quickly this is making him emotional).

Fans bring posters to events all the time — beautiful, handmade posters emblazoned with flags and encouraging quotes, showing their love for their favorite skaters and teams. They’re made of cardboard or printed on fabric, but are usually small, hard to see unless you’re watching on TV or very close to the boards. Sometimes, though — with special permission from the venue, usually — they go big, creating huge tarps that get hung up on the banisters surrounding the seats and stay there all week, loudly cheering for their favorites even when they may not be in the stands.

Which is exactly what Buck comes face to face with — two banners hung across part of the middle banister, covering at least 15 seats. One has a picture of him from Autumn Classic, smiling with his gold medal, with “Go Buck Go!” in big block letters over his head, all on a deep red background and surrounded by golden fireworks. The other — the one that really takes his breath away — is a collage of pictures from his programs over the years, some of his more memorable spins and poses emblazoned across the dark blue fabric. His final pose from his short this season, reaching toward the crowd and looking off into the distance, is featured most prominently, with an ornate script next to it that reads “Evan Buckley: Future Olympic Champion”.

He grips the railing a little tighter to keep himself steady, feels Hen’s hand rubbing up and down his back.

“How—” he starts, voice a little raw.

“Bobby and I saw them when we came by earlier to get our credentials. We think someone hung them up after the short dance today so they’d be ready for tomorrow.”

“Wow,” is all Buck can manage. He’s seen his face on plenty of posters, but never like this, never something that he could see from anywhere in the arena, loudly proclaiming that there are fans in his corner, people beyond himself and his sister that see him at the top of the Olympic podium. He knows they're out there, rationally, when he’s not riddled with nerves and self doubt, but still. It’s nice to be reminded. And what a reminder this is.

“I know it’s been a rough week for you,” Hen says quietly, hand still on his back. “But just...take this in. Let it push you through the next few months. They’re rooting for you, Buck. We all are. You’ve got to keep rooting for yourself too.”

As usual, she’s right — Buck went into this season as his own biggest fan, with one goal in mind that felt like it had been slipping farther and farther away with every fall and every less than perfect score. That drive to win gold becoming more and more desperate as the weeks wore on — like if he didn’t get back to where he should be, where he needed to be, he might not survive. But he has people — his team, his family, and fans like this — who are still envisioning that success for him, who believe in him no matter what. Who will still be in his corner even if he doesn’t make it to the top. Who he wants to prove right for believing in him.

Hen pats his back one last time and heads back down the stairs. Buck lingers a little longer, taking in every detail of the banners that he can, since he won’t be able to appreciate them properly tomorrow. He sneaks a few pictures on his phone, quickly shooting them off to Maddie and Eddie. It doesn’t feel like bragging — they’re at the very top of the list of people that have constantly pulled him up when he falls down the hardest. He knows they’ll appreciate this for him, just like Hen did. They’ll understand how much this means to him.

As he follows Hen’s path down the stairs, the heaviness he had convinced himself was etched into his bones feels like it stays behind, making it easier to breathe, easier to be.

Hen’s next to the boards holding his skates out to him. “You’ve got like 30 minutes — skate it out. I’ll stand watch by the door.” He takes them and sets them on the bench before enveloping her in a hug, rocking back and forth as she laughs into his shoulder. She ruffles his hair and pats his cheek before going to her post.

He feels at peace on the ice, finally. The cold isn’t harsh, it’s invigorating. The fluorescent lights aren’t too bright, they’re comforting, lighting up the grooves and divots of the ice, showing all the paths Buck can follow. A couple of laps gets his blood pumping, roaring in his ears and blocking out everything else. He starts with some easy steps — rockers and three turns, over and over like he did in skating lessons when he was a kid, losing himself in the repetition. When he feels good, really good, he goes for a quad flip, confidence flowing into every stroke as he gets in position. He takes off, and he feels light again — right again — like he’s flying, not falling, not sinking.

Figuratively and literally rising.

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s two missed calls from Eddie when he gets back to his room, and still riding the high of his good mood, he FaceTimes him. 

“Wow, I really missed that smile,” Eddie says when the call connects, and Buck rolls his eyes, not even bothering to hide the blush he can feel warm his cheeks. Eddie must have just gotten back from PT — his hair is falling in swoops over his forehead, damp with sweat, his tank top sticking to what little Buck can see of his chest. His blush gets a couple of shades darker, he’s sure, as he tries not to let his eyes linger anywhere for too long.

Buck flops onto the bed on his back, holding his phone in front of his face. “I had a pretty good night,” he says with feigned nonchalance.

“Seeing banners of your giant face already proclaiming you the next gold medalist will do that to you.” Buck laughs and Eddie laughs with him, the sound like pure happiness, burning out the very last of the dread that had been following him since he arrived. It stops quickly when Eddie sits down on his couch and hisses, wincing as he shuffles to get comfortable. 

“Rough day with Lena?” He saw her every day for two months straight once upon a time, he knows how hard she can push.

“Rough couple of days.”

“Are you feeling better, at least? Do the doctors think it’s healing okay?”

“I have a check-up tomorrow, but it’s fine. Just sore.” He finally settles but he still looks like he’s in pain. Buck wants to press, wants to know every detail of his last few days — what exercises he’s done, when the pain really got worse, if he’s resting enough. But this isn’t his injury, and everyone heals differently. And he trusts Eddie, trusts him to know how to take care of himself like he promised he would.

“Anyway,” Eddie says lightly, clearly trying to change the subject. Buck lets him. “I’m sure this good night will make for a good day tomorrow, too. You feel ready?”

“I do,” Buck answers. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that he actually means it. 

“Good. I know you’ll be great. And you’ll have my sleep deprived text commentary to look forward to when you finish.”

Buck winces. “I’m not gonna be skating until like 4AM your time, you really don’t—”

“I really do. I really want to. And there’s not a whole lot you can do to stop me.” Eddie flashes his crowd-charming smile and Buck feels like he’s melting into the mattress again. He tries for a snappy comeback, anything to keep Eddie talking, but he cuts himself off with a yawn, the exhaustion from the week seeming to catch up with him all at once.

Eddie’s smile gets a little softer. “Go to sleep, Buck. I’m gonna take a nap too so I make sure I wake up on time.”

“Okay, okay. Goodnight Eds.”

“Goodnight. Knock ‘em dead tomorrow.”

After they hang up, Buck gives himself a minute, just a minute, to really bask in that, in Eddie’s active support of him from halfway across the world. It’s one thing to have your teammates watch your programs from the stands, but to find competitions on TV, if they’re being shown at all? To figure out time zones and wake up at ungodly hours just to watch you skate live? It may not seem like much, but it’s everything to Buck. He’s only gotten this kind of commitment from one other person in his life — even his parents stopped keeping up once he started competing abroad more. And it’s different with Maddie — they’ve been on this road together for almost two decades, so intertwined with each other’s successes and failures that they’re hard to differentiate sometimes. Sure, Eddie’s been a part of his life for years now too, but as competition, an obstacle he kept trying and failing to overcome. It’s different now that they’re...whatever they are. Friends. Almost something else. 

For the second time tonight, Buck’s reminded of how grateful he is to have another solid, supportive presence in his corner. The last lingering bits of heaviness and loneliness evaporate from within him, and he knows this weekend will be good for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Second place.

Second place is fine. Second place is great, actually. Second place is enough to show the USFSA that he’s still a contender, that he can still keep up with the best of the best despite a rocky first half of the season.

But second place is not first place. Even if it’s only six points away.

Overall, Buck is happy with his performance. He was clean on his step sequences, attacked every jump, and didn’t fall once. And six points behind the skater from Japan that everyone considers Eddie’s biggest international rival, his biggest threat against his potential Olympic gold, would make most other people ecstatic.

He’s not most other people, though. This past week has reignited the fire in his belly and it’s burning brighter than it has in a while. The medal ceremony, the interviews, the gala, everything flashes by because all he can think about is getting back to work, changing transitions and tweaking spins until even the smallest gap between him and any other skater is erased. Until he knows his programs are undoubtedly gold medal worthy.

It’s refreshing — a relief — to be back in this headspace, being pushed forward by obstacles and less-than-perfection instead of dragged into spiraling sadness.

He almost loses it a couple of times, especially when he decides to take an innocent peek at Twitter to see what fans had to say about the Final, the words “overscored” and “inconsistent” swimming in front of him until they don’t mean anything anymore, just leave doubt lingering, trying to find the home in Buck’s brain that it had just vacated. In those moments, he goes back to his messages and rereads the live texts he’d gotten all weekend, and one in particular that makes his heart skip two beats every time he sees it: 

[from: Eddie] I think you make everyone fall a little bit in love with you every time you skate

Eddie sent it in the middle of his free skate, in the middle of dozens of other compliments and criticism of other skaters, and Buck’s sure he was half awake when he sent it, but it fills him with something he doesn’t quite have a name for. Something that makes all of the harsh words and doubts disappear, because none of those matter when Eddie is here telling him that he’s good, that he deserves all of his scores and praises. That he’s loved, no matter how often he may forget.

Another fire is burning in him, a little above the one in his gut, but it’s pushing him just as hard to prove his worth. 

~~~~~~~~~

There’s four weeks left until Nationals, and Eddie still isn’t better. 

Buck can tell he’s getting frustrated too — the tension in his shoulders gets tighter and tighter, the set of his mouth harder and harder each day he comes to the rink still wearing his air cast, only able to work in the gym and with Lena, far away from the ice and the excited chatter of preparing for the second half of the season. Buck tries to be there, a shoulder to lean on, someone to listen, but he also knows how Eddie operates — he’ll slap on a smile and say he’s fine until he’s really not, until he cracks from the inside out and finally explodes with everything he’s been holding in so he keeps up this air of perfection he’s made for himself. Buck used to think it was annoying, that perfect facade, but now he knows it’s more defensive than anything, Eddie just trying to protect himself from the world and maybe from himself.

Buck doesn’t take it personally anymore, and he’s going to do his damned best to be there to keep the cracks from spreading.

It’s after 10pm when he walks into the gym, still breathing heavily from practice, his muscles burning from overuse and the need to be stretched. He was certain he was alone, so he just about jumps out of his skin when he sees someone lying on the padded floor in front of the mirrors. When he gets closer, his blood runs cold for an entirely different reason.

It’s Eddie.

Buck’s first thought is to call for an ambulance, because why else would Eddie be lying on the floor if he hadn’t hurt himself again? But as he gets closer still, Buck thinks this might be intentional. He’s on his back, headphones on, eyes closed, rhythmically tapping his hands to whatever song he’s listening to on his stomach. As Buck's shadow passes over his face, he opens his eyes and blinks at him for a minute before giving a half-hearted smile and closing his eyes again. He looks sadder, somehow, than he has in the past weeks, dark circles under his eyes and none of the golden glow that seems to follow him wherever he goes (though that may be coming just from Buck’s own imagination anyway).

Buck’s not really sure what to do here, how to fix whatever it is that’s making Eddie feel so bad.

So he lays down right next to him and waits.

The headphones come off after 10 minutes, and Eddie doesn’t open his eyes for another five. When he does, he looks over to Buck, and rather than something supportive or sweet or literally anything else, he says the first dumb thing that comes to his head:

“Are we meditating?”

But he gets an actual smile out of it from Eddie, so he takes it as a win. 

Eddie scrubs his hands over his face. “Trying to, I think.” He turns onto his side, facing Buck, and Buck turns to mirror him. He can tell Eddie is searching for his words, the right phrasing to get his point across, and he’s willing to wait as long as he needs to for Eddie to share. 

Finally, he takes a long, steadying breath. “My doctor said I might not be able to skate until the end of January, which means I might miss Nats, which means I might not—” he gestures vaguely at that, like he expects Buck to know what his silence means. Buck knows exactly what he means, and it makes him ache for Eddie, makes him reach out and squeeze his wrist when his eyes start to shine, thumb tracing over his pulse point trying to soothe him. “I’ve worked my ass off for weeks now to get better, and it still might not be good enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says quietly. “I know it sucks. More than anything.”

Eddie goes quiet again, eyes drifting to where Buck is still holding his wrist. He pulls away for just a second before slotting their fingers together properly and gently squeezing. Like always, Buck marvels at how right it feels, to be holding Eddie’s hand.

“Did you know they’ve been saying I’m the favorite to win gold for three years now? Not to brag, but—” he says quickly, eyes wide. Buck chuckles because he knows — knows now — that Eddie doesn’t have an arrogant bone in his body. He squeezes his hand back and waits for him to keep going. “It’s all I can think about. Every time I fuck up a level or finish off podium, it just stays with me, makes me feel like I’m about to crash and burn and everyone is going to be disappointed in me because I’m not actually as good as they think.” Eddie’s trembling, squeezing his hand tighter to try and stop it. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I tricked everyone into believing in me, and this stupid busted ankle is—”

“Hey, hey, no,” Buck says, pulling them up to sitting and cupping Eddie’s face in his hands as his tears threaten to spill over, slipping through the cracks. “You don’t deserve this, Eddie, no one deserves to be injured. Believe me, I know what it’s like to put all of your worth into this, and I still do it, but...you’re worth so much more than just your skating. To the fans, to the team. To me.” Eddie’s eyes drift away from his, trying to find an escape, but Buck holds firm until they drift back. “You are good. Not just a good skater, but a good person. You’ll always have that, gold medals or not. And if no one else believes in you, I do.”

Eddie stares at him, looking dumbstruck, and he’s quiet for so long that Buck worries he went too far, bared himself a little too much. He’s about to backtrack, save both of them whatever awkwardness might come, but Eddie surges forward before he can and kisses him so fiercely he swears the earth stands still.

He pushes away just as quickly, eyes wide in panic. “Shit, Buck, I’m sorry, I know we—” but Buck cuts him off, kissing him slow and deep, hands tangling into Eddie’s hair trying to pull him as close as possible. Eddie’s everywhere, his taste, his smell, his touch, and when he feels Eddie’s smile against his mouth, a smile that he put there, he feels like flying.

It finally clicks for Buck that he doesn’t have to — doesn’t want to — compartmentalize his life so much anymore. Skating and Eddie make him happier than pretty much anything. Why shouldn’t he have both?

They break apart slowly and rest their foreheads together. Buck ended up in Eddie’s lap at some point, and from here he can’t see anything but Eddie, gets lost in the curve of his cheekbones and the pout of his lips, and mentally smacks himself for thinking it was really better not having all of this. Eddie is in his corner, always, and he wants to be in Eddie’s too. Wants him to know he’s there, to remember even at his lowest points that he’s not alone, ever.

Eddie finally opens his eyes and smiles at Buck, soft but absolutely breathtaking. He squeezes his arms a little tighter around Buck’s waist, and Buck is more than happy to get as close as he can, would crawl into Eddie’s chest and stay there forever if he could.

“What are you thinking?” Eddie asks quietly.

Buck’s thinking a lot of things, or at least he was, but now that he’s focused on honey brown eyes so full of affection he could drown in them, his only real thought is Eddie Eddie Eddie.

“I think we’re stupid,” he says after a minute, and Eddie’s laugh echos around the empty gym.

“We’re stupid?”

“Okay, I’m stupid. But I think I want to fix that.”

“Oh really?”

“I think I want to be here for you, for everything.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I think I want to remind you how amazing you are whenever I can.”

“Buck—”

“I think I want to convince you of how incredible you are whenever you stop believing it.”

Eddie’s eyes are shining again, but his smile could also put the sun to shame.

“And I think I really, really want to keep kissing you.”

Eddie shakes his head, smile getting bigger and somehow pulling Buck even closer. “I think we can make that happen,” he whispers. 

He kisses him again, and Buck is soaring.

[meigh-day]

Obligation (Tendou x Reader) - Part 19

———————————————————–

Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Guns, Knives, Excessive Violence, Blood, Torture, Threats of rape

Status: Complete

Word Count: 2k

Previous 

———————————————————–

Epilogue:

The weeks that followed were filled with extremely busy days. Between meetings, dress fittings, rehearsals and so on, you found yourself exhausted at the end of each day. Though the bright side to that was that at the end of each day, you could retreat to the serenity of Tendou's embrace. By the time your confinement had finished you found yourself reluctant to return to your room, though you weren't the only one who wasn't keen on the notion. You had chanced to bring it up one afternoon and the look of misery that came over poor Satori's face had you regretting even thinking about it. However, you did find it reassuring to know that he also wanted the same thing. What you didn't know was that he had wanted you all to himself from the very beginning. The next day, with a little help from some obliging staff, the remainder of your belongings found their way to the room you two now shared.

The wedding, as a whole, was beautiful. It wasn't anything like the small intimate ceremony you had envisioned having one day but, to you, it was a small sacrifice to get to marry the man of your dreams. Even though the last few weeks had been a whirlwind, Tendou had made it all worthwhile. Despite his own busy schedule, he made sure to find time during the day to see you, even if it was just to sneak a quick kiss. If he woke up first, you might find a cup of coffee or some semblance of a breakfast waiting for you and if you were late getting back he'd make sure dinner was waiting. It was really touching just how kind and thoughtful he was being. Someday, when all this wedding nonsense was over, you were going to return the favor tenfold. He had taken such good care of you, making sure you were eating properly, checking in to make sure you weren't pushing yourself, and you wanted to do the same for him everyday.

Despite the hustle and bustle that the day brought, you still found it fairly easy to enjoy it. You were marrying Tendou Satori after all, the only person who had ever found a place in your heart. His beautiful red hair and matching eyes had drawn you in, but it hadn't been his good looks that kept you coming back. It had nothing to do with money or power or anything of the sort. It was Tendou himself that made your heart flutter. The more time you spent together, the deeper your feelings had grown until they were so tangled within that you knew there was no hope of them ever being removed. It was that deep-rooted love you felt for the man before you, his eyes on yours and a smile etched on his lips, that made the traditional vows you recited suddenly seemed all the more profound.

in a flash, the ceremony was over and before you could take two breaths together the crowd descended. Suddenly there was a flurry of pictures, congratulations and a constant stream of people wanting to chat. Honestly, it wasn't until late into the evening, the reception now in full swing and the guests all busy chatting amongst themselves, that you were finally able to breath. You stood at the far end of the room, alone, watching Tendou and Goshiki talk animatedly about something all the while trying to pull a reluctant Semi into the conversation. The room was full of voices and music and it was making you feel a little overwhelmed. You felt warm and stuffy, no doubt partially due to the heavy dress you wore. A quick glance around the room confirmed the horrible lack of windows. Fresh air and a quiet space sounded like just the thing to help soothe your nerves.

If you thought no one would mind, you would have liked to steal Tendou away for this little adventure. Unfortunately, his little group had grown and you just couldn't bring yourself to disturb their merriment. So instead, you slink quietly out a side door and into the house. You didn't really have a destination in mind, just somewhere quiet and away from the gathered wedding guests. However, it seemed like your feet had a mind of their own because you soon found yourself standing in front of the garden door. The last time you had gone through this door had been the night you were abducted and it had been so busy lately that you hadn't really explored outside the house. It's not like you were forbidden from leaving the house per-say, you were allowed anywhere on the property in fact, but there was this small niggling hesitation that had kept you from venturing any further than the safety of a window. Now that you were here, the call of the cool night air was making that hesitation seem smaller and smaller. It only took a moment for your mind to find a happy middle ground. Instead of actually going outside, you'd opted to stand in the open doorway, thus allowing you to get your fix of fresh air while technically still being inside.

"There you are." You let out a small cry, flinching away at the sudden voice next to your ear. The surprise causing you to jump away from the safety of the doorway, landing on your feet in the soft grass. You knew whose voice it was the moment the words had reached your ears but that knowledge hadn't lessened the shock of your husband suddenly appearing from nowhere.

"Oh my god Satori. You scared the hell out of me." You look up at him with wide eyes, a hand on your chest as you suck in deep breaths to calm your racing heart. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his lips.

"Can't help it beautiful. You look so cute when you're surprised." He chuckles as he leans up and moves out of the doorway, closing the small distance between the two of you. Tendou was incredibly handsome on any given day but today, in his all black suit, he looked breathtaking. You thought so even now, your heart now racing for a completely different reason as he came to a stop in front of you.

"Well if you keep that up, you might end up a widower. Not sure my poor heart can take it." You let out a small laugh but stop short when he frowns down at you.

"I'd never do anything to hurt you, you know that, right?" Shit. Your smile falters when you see the uncertainty reflected in his eyes. Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your arms around his back, cheek pressed into his chest as you hold him tight.

"Of course I do! Satori, I trust you with my life." You pull back a little, just enough so you could peer up into his eyes, a small reassuring smile on your lips. "You did save it after all." He hummed in response, sliding his hands down your arms and interlocking a hand with yours. The two of you walk through the garden, surrounded in a comfortable silence. The last time you had been out here, the garden had looked ominous and eerie. Now as you looked around, the light from the moon illuminating the greenery, the garden was all the more enchanting. Whether by chance, or perhaps the skillful maneuvering of your husband, the two of you found yourselves under one of the wisteria trees, the low hanging blooms providing some small amount of privacy. He stood before you, one big hand cupping your cheek while the other held your hand. He looked thoughtful for a moment as he gazed down at you, a small happy sigh escaping his lips.

"How did I get so lucky?" His eyes almost glittered in the slivers of moonlight that shone through the branches and blooms above. "I've been in love with you for years but I never thought I stood a chance with someone as stunning and amazing as you." He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, pulling you against his chest. "Imagine my surprise when I found out you were the one they'd arranged for me to marry." His long fingers drifted up your back and up into your hair, gently brushing and twirling around the strands. "You had no reason to even like me but here you are loving me back."

You could feel your lips trembling with the effort of holding back tears but, with each tender word he spoke, your resolution crumbled. "I know I don't deserve you but-- " He loosens his hold on you, gazing down at your flushed face, tears sliding down your cheeks, a smile on your lips. He gently brushed away your tears, kissing your cheeks and nose as he did. Satori then paused, lips hovering over yours as he looked into your eyes. "I promise, I'm going to take such good care of you. I'll keep loving you everyday and if the last few weeks are any indication, I'm going to love you more and more every single day." With a final grin, his lips met yours, sealing his promise with a kiss.

As the two of you part, your hands reach up to cup his cheeks, gazing into his eyes with such adoration. "I wish you could see what I see when I look at you 'Tori. You are absolutely beautiful inside and out." A wide smile pulls at the corners of your mouth as your thumbs slide across his cheek. "I've thought so since the day we met. I couldn't have asked for a better man to become my husband and I feel so incredibly grateful that I get to be your wife." Tendou bit his lip as you spoke, trying desperately to hold back the tears that were starting to well. He leaned into your soft touch, basking in the paradise of your love. "If you'll let me, I want to do everything I can to make you happy. I love all the things that make up who you are and I want to be a haven where you can feel at ease and be yourself. I promise I'll always be here for you and if there are times when you can't love yourself, I'll just love you twice as much."

Legally the two of you had been married for several hours but, standing together under the shelter of a wisteria tree, the impromptu vows you'd exchanged were far more significant than anything you had said before the gathered crowd earlier. A few tears escaped down his cheeks but you were quick to brush them away. "You know I didn't come out here to cry." Tendou chuckles as he rubs a hand across his face.

"Oh? And I thought you just wanted to scared me half to death."

"No, but the look on your face was impeccable." He grasped your chin between two fingers and gave your head a gentle shake. "I was actually coming to tell you they finally gave us to okay to leave that damned party."

"Wait, really? You should have led with that! This dress is driving me insane." You glance down at your body, the offending dress greeting you. It wasn't like it was ugly or anything, far from it, it was however heavy, stiff and just overall uncomfortable.

"Is it now?" Tendou murmured as he tilted your face back up where you were met with his own dark eyes staring down at you. "Anything I can do to help?" His fingers trailed along your jaw and down your neck, leaving your skin feeling hot in their wake. You cheeks turned pink, his tone and expression turning the unassuming question far more provocative. Words suddenly became difficult to produce yet your body was happy to reply as you pressed up against him, a simple yes whispered through your lips. That seemed to be all the permission he needed because before you knew it you were off the ground and in his arms. You let out a squeal of surprise as he lifted you up and immediately began striding across the garden and back towards the house.

"It'll be a tough job, might take all night in fact, but I think I'm up to the task."

-The End-

[crispycrimebrulee]

Chrollo x Reader: ~Heart of Hermes~

Part 2: Between You & I, We Share the Same Name

Touching down in Yorknew City after a long flight was almost a miracle, seeing as the turbulence always made you uneasy. You’d slept most of the plane ride, trying to manifest good luck and fool proof plans for your journey ahead. It was late into the night already, and the silent, ethereal feeling of the airport as you wandered through the halls alone made you feel like you almost shouldn’t be there. No music, barely a soul running about, not hustle and bustle; just you and whatever secrets Yorknew City’s airport held. 

Stepping out from the airport, you were greeted with that sweet summer air and you sighed. An image of that gray eyed man flashed in your mind, and you scowled. You’d only seen him a few times, but the secrets he clearly kept behind his eyes were alluring, and your desire to know what they were only grew with every passing day. It wasn’t him or his looks, per se, (although you couldn’t deny he was strikingly attractive) but he had an air about him that called to you, like a siren calls a sailor to his demise. He called you to yours, seeking a knowledge that would undoubtedly harm you. But like a fool, you would fall into that harm all too willingly, because as they say, curiosity killed the cat. Resilient as you were, on the flip side, satisfaction would bring you back. If you crossed paths with him, you’d go along with it, but for now, you needed a cab and to get to your hotel room. 

Hailing a cab, you gave him your destination as you settled into the back of the car, checking the time and making small talk. You’d entered the heart of the city and you took in the view: gentle but inviting lights all around, staggeringly tall buildings and a feeling of ambition sat in the air, making you feel like this next job would be eventful and successful. You’d zoned out, admiring the city until you heard the cab driver snapping and calling out to you, asking for payment. You paid and stepped out of the cab, grabbing your things and watching the cab driver peel out from where he left you. 

You checked in, and made your way to your room, to which you sank into the bed promptly. You had some scouting to do tomorrow, but for now, you needed to collect yourself, maybe even get a drink. You laid there for a few minutes before dragging yourself up and looking at the scrolls again, making sense of the routes and passageways in the museum, taking into account any secrets in the building that could make your job easier or harder. Your mind felt numb after 20 minutes, the layout of the museum making your head feel heavy with boredom. You put the scroll down and tucked them away under the bed for safe keeping. Getting up, you left your room in search of a drink. 

Stepping back outside into the city, you walked down the streets in search of a bar. There was a low hum of city business going about, as well as the general city noise, and it was almost calming, hearing the city's unique music travel through the air. Upon reaching a bar, you stepped inside. It had a bit of a lo-fi aesthetic to it; neon lights yet still particularly dark. There were a handful of people there, low conversation and clinking glasses. You sat down and ordered a drink, looking around and taking in your surroundings. The bartender placed your drink down, and you nodded a thank you, taking the drink and swirling it a bit. You pulled out your phone to check the area map to see what part of the city you were in, and how close you were to the auction house. Sitting there casually sipping your drink, you stopped mid sip, for that disconcertingly similar aura seemed to have found you again. You felt it floating around your head, and you glanced to your right, trying to pinpoint the oh-so-familiar man in question. He wasn’t there, so turning to your left, slowly, you nearly spat out your drink. There he was, seated right next to you, with a vodka-cran in his hand, a book in the other. Clearly a look of shock was smeared all over your face, as he chuckled and stuck out his hand.

“I must’ve startled you. I apologize.” he said, his voice low and almost silky.

You looked at his hand and then back at him, slowly nodding your head in acknowledgement. 

He raised an eyebrow and his hand retreated, seemingly to his dismay.

“Why are you following me?” you asked, keeping your eye on him whilst finishing off your drink.

“I’m not. Simply a familiar face” he replied, a sly smile on his face, clearly lying through his teeth.

You made a face, your lip curling upward and you squinted at him, nearly insulted that he’d lie so casually. 

You paid the bartender and shuffled out of the bar, trying to get away from the avid follower. Turning the corner, you walked into an alarmingly menacing group of people; 4 people and they looked like trouble. One with sleek black hair down to his back, and concerningly vacant eyes. A short girl, with short hair and glasses, locking eyes with you. A quite small one next to the man with long hair was in a traditional japanese kimono with short hair, almost hiding behind the taller one. Another relatively short one with an umbrella, half his face covered with a turtleneck-like outfit. This was going to be a problem. You turned, only to be face to face with the gray eyed man, almost looking a little bashful. 

He stuck out his hand again, a soft smile forming on his lips. 

You put your hands on your hips and cocked your head to the side, pursing your lips and giving him a glare.

“I suppose we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Chr-” he started.

“I don’t give a shit.” you retorted, cutting him off and waving your hand, walking around him.

You can tell he was taken aback without being able to see his face, and the group that was behind you was shocked too. You could hear the mans and the group's footsteps behind yours as you walked off, and he caught up to you rather quickly.

“Hey now, that's quite rude.”, he huffed, looking at you, “Allow me to reconcile whatever I’ve done?”

You rolled your eyes and stopped, giving him a dead look. 

“Make your case.” you deadpanned, glancing at the group beside him.

“I’m Chrollo Luicilfer” he finally got out, sticking his hand out once again.

“I’m not shaking your hand.” you replied, looking at it with a slight look of disgust. 

He took it back with a light laugh.

“Alright, I believe that’s fair. Now, it seems you think I’ve been following you-” he stated.

“That’s an understatement and a lie.” you cut him off once again., “Frankly I’m not interested in whatever it is you have to tell me, Chrollo. Goodnight.”

You walked off, feeling everyone's eyes on you. You knew you’d be seeing them all again while you were here. You couldn’t really tell why or how, but they’d show up again, so he had time to make his case.

The morning came with a slight feeling of guilt and a stiff neck. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you slowly blinked, your head still gripped with sleep. The stiff neck wasn’t too much of a concern; that can always be sorted out with a warm shower and some stretching, but the guilt? You knew where that was coming from: your encounter with Lucilfer the night before. You’d been particularly snarky towards him, not allowing him to make his case, as you’d stated that night. To be fair, he had been following you, and you weren’t too fond of the fact that he lied about it. But again, as you had also thought, you’d see him again. 

Crawling out of bed, you checked to make sure your scrolls and all the items you collected over the days were still in your room. Seeing they were still there, you made your way over to your suitcase and picked out an outfit for the day. A white dress shirt and some tan colored bottoms, with white shoes to match. You left just the first 3 buttons of the shirt undone. You set your outfit with a gold chain, and did a little twirl for yourself in the mirror. You grabbed a backpack and made your way to the auction house in the city in order to scope it out. It was some ways away but you’d make it work, and you could use the walk. The city in the morning felt like any other city: loud and full of usual business and massive, leaving one to feel small, realizing that you’re one of many itty bitty pieces in an almost infinite puzzle. 

You rounded a corner and made your way down another street, noting the alleyways and landmarks along the way as escape routes and hideouts if you found yourself stuck in a pinch during the night of your escapade. As if on cue, you felt eyes on you, but not Lucifer's eyes this time. This aura felt eerie and unattached as well as most definitely unhinged. Not making it obvious, you tried to see if the person in question was in your peripherals by any chance, to perhaps gauge how to deal with them. As you kept walking, albeit on high alert, the person and their aura passed you: the man with the long black hair, and he was staring a hole into your very being, his lifeless eyes clearly gaging you, rather than you to him. You locked eyes with him, and he stared back, unwavering. Looking at him soon made you feel like keeping eye contact was dangerous, as if he was reading your thoughts just by keeping up this staring contest. Soon, he looked away and walked faster, leaving you in slight confusion. Clearly he had gathered something from you, physical or not. You searched the light crowd for him, but he’d vanished, aura and all. You finally showed up at the auction house. There was no way you’d be able to get inside without a ticket, and it wouldn’t be open until there was an auction. You peeked around the sides of the building, checking for vents like you did for the Minerva Museum. There seemed to be cameras on every square inch of the building, causing your to furrow your brows in exasperation. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem, controlling the cameras, but it was a bit of a pain, having so many cameras around. There was a vent, but it was much too small for you, or anyone else to fit in. Sure, you could send in your rollers, but to what end? Again, you couldn’t use the vents. You pondered over this for some time before your thoughts drifted to Chrollo and you rolled your eyes at yourself for letting yourself get carried away with a stranger. Peering up, the top of the building was staggeringly high, and you couldn’t be bothered to scale it. Thinking back to how it would only open for auctions and most likely mafia business, you figured, you might as well make like you’re attending the auction, which probably should’ve been your first thought. Originally, you planned to sneak in a different way, without having to dress up for the auction, but now dressing up seemed inevitable. Feeling the rollers in your pocket yet again, you took them out and tossed them into the vent, just to at least get a look at what you’d be walking through. Leaning against the side of the building, you fiddled the balls around the vent, finding the exit through another vent after around 10 minutes. The building was surprisingly busy on the inside; staff running around seemingly to prepare for the auction in the next 2 days. Running the balls along the wall, careful to stop and try to be unnoticeable, you nearly crawled out of your own skin upon seeing a familiar face dressed up like staff: the short man who had been wearing a turtleneck like outfit was standing with a blond man, and they were both extremely out of place in your opinion. They’re scouting the place out as well you thought, studying them from your rollers. You made note not to follow them, but you did observe them walking around, carrying supplies and being somewhat of a help to other staff members. You continued on in a different direction, looking for where the vault might be. 

You had rounded a few corners before finding yourself in a long hallway with a computer operated door by the looks of it. In the peripheral of the roller, the same two men from earlier showed up at the door with some other staff. They were carrying some seemingly expensive items, and they unlocked the door with a slew of passwords and checks. Slipping in through the quickly closing crack of the door, the roller caught sight of what you were looking for: the vault. A huge vault, several feet high, and you could already tell it was several feet thick. There were no vents in the area, so venting in and out would be out of the question. You watched one of the staff members open the vault and take the items from the other staff and the two non-staff and place them in the vault. The staff member turned and motioned for the others to follow suit in leaving, leaving the vault door to close on its own. You quickly maneuvered your rollers to get inside, making it in before it sealed. Turning on the little night vision aspect on your rollers, you nearly fell over with just how full (and large) the vault was. The vault was massive, and most of it was full of interesting and dazzling items from around the world. You tilted the rollers upward trying to see if by some miracle, there was a vent in the ceiling that could potentially lead to the roof, allowing for a rooftop entrance (to which then you wouldn’t mind having to scale the building). There was no vent, to which at this point, you could see that essentially walking through the front door would be the only option. You left your roller in there, seeing as it had no way out until the staff came back, so you rolled it into a corner, and let it sit there for when you eventually would be in the vault as well. 

You made your way to leave the building, seeing as you’d been there for 20 minutes or so. You felt eyes on you once again, letting out a loud exasperated sigh, thinking about how you were being watched at all times at this rate, and you angrily scanned the area for who it was this time. In the distance, in some shrubbery, was the man with the long hair, and a blonde in a green tracksuit, seemingly Gucci. The man in the tracksuit whistled, a wolf whistle in fact, and you couldn't keep yourself from gagging at the less than awful notion of what the whistle was for. You spun on your heels and walked off to the nearest cafe, feeling the two men hot on your trail. Stepping inside, you joined the line, trying to keep your composure. You felt their presence even stronger now, but they aren't behind you. You peeked out the windows of the shop to see them standing there, apparently being scolded by Chrollo. You watched them as you made your way up the line and ordered your drinking, being wary of the men watching you from the outside. Soon leaving the shop, you passed, avoiding eye contact with them as best as possible. You felt all three of them watching you, and you did everything in your power to not lose your mind with the creepiness factor. You looked back, and locked eyes with Chrollo, and even though it was a good distance away, you felt him studying you, trying to read you and figure you out. You slowly averted your gaze and you walked on, preparing yourself for the adventure to come.

September 1st. The night of nights. You wore a black satin full body piece, and some diamond accessories to match. You wore decent and classy boots, both practical and tactical. Although fancy looking, it was also a tactical outfit in general, allowing you to look stunning yet ready to set things straight if need be. You looked at yourself in the mirror and put on your best face. You carried two small knives in your boots and your rollers, and a small handbag, and walked out of your hotel room, ready to snag a gem.

Approaching the auction building, you took a deep breath, seeing as your nerves were particularly jumpy at this point. Not like there was a reason, you’ve pulled similar stunts before. Maybe it was the thought that another massacre would occur, or that you would undoubtedly come face to face with Chrollo again. You sighed and made your way inside the auction house, wary as ever.

Upon entering, the place felt busy and excited, staff running from one end to another, important public figures scattered about and chatting with each other, the lively hum of conversation filling the air. As much as you wanted to see everything happening, you had work to do. By ‘work to do’, it meant finding a staff member who either had the proper access cards for the pre-vault door, or managing to get in there without one. The chances that the staff wouldn’t have their eyes on their card at all times would be highly unlikely, so the chances of getting one would be slim. The auctioning part of the auction hadn’t started yet, so you had some time to get in the vault to take what you needed and leave. This was like any of your other missions, get in, get what you want, get out and go home. Maybe stay for the festivities if you were particularly bored. You took a glass of champagne from one of the servers that were milling about and casually walked around, offering fake smiles and the occasional glass raise to individuals you passed by. You rounded the corner during your stroll through the many hallways and nearly choked on your champagne. There was the door again, the giant metal computer operated one at the end of the hallway, and you could barely keep your excitement within you. You looked around casually, as to make sure you didn't look too suspicious, and you noted three cameras and smiled a little. You walked back out of the hallway, but not completely, as you had a little nen work to do that required you to be near. A slight downside to your nen was having to guess which metal a particular something was made of, and having to wait 10 minutes before opting to control another type of metal. However, in the years of the ultimate guessing game, you’ve gotten pretty good at guessing metals, since there are only a handful. Subtly sticking your hand out, you tried your luck at steel, focusing to cause the cameras to move. The camera’s didn’t move, but both the security door and the vault door rattled violently. Well that’s luck at its finest, you suppose. The camera’s would be a bit of a problem, seeing as they would see you if you walked further into the hallway. You thought, for a moment, about just saying to hell with it and walking under the camera’s, because it’s not like there's any information in the world about you, you’re a ghost after all. As if by grace, the lights all shut down, and you nearly screamed thank you out loud. Still in the mindset of controlling steel, you opened the security door and rushed in, approaching the vault door. Still controlling steel, you worked the gears inside the large metal door to open, regardless of proper passwords and codes. The lights were flickering, but nevermind that. The door opened just enough for you to squeeze in (you could feel the weight of the door after all, no matter how much control you had over it) and let it quietly shut behind you. Letting your eyes adjust to the dark, you put your hand on your hips in triumph and did a bit of a victory shimmy. Step one of your wonderful plan was complete! Grabbing your phone as a (very crude, might I add) flashlight, you searched around the pile of riches in the vault. During your search, you suddenly hear cheering and loud applause, and the lights in the vault turned on. The auction has started, apparently, so you were quickly about to run out of time. You quickly scurried about, picking up swords, weapons, eyes, body parts, pots and jars of liquids and dirt, boxes that ominously rattled and binders of sheet music, passing by delicate books and small dolls whilst looking for your precious Heart of Hermes. It seemed to be 20 minutes of searching before you laid your eyes on a clear box with a small black cushion inside in the corner of the room. You couldn’t keep the small gasp from escaping you, your lip trembling in excitement and a general overflow of emotions. You’d read very little about the Heart of Hermes, and you’d only seen pictures of what an Alexandrite gem looked like, but oh. Oh was this gem far more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined. You picked it up gently, running your fingers over the glass box, admiring the green and purple hue of the gem in the light. Time and whatever your full mission was didn’t even seem to matter anymore, you were absolutely enthralled by the gem and the secrets it would soon unlock. The lights flickered once again, and went out, the cries of shock and the general darkness snapping you out of your euphoric admiration. You heard footsteps coming towards the vault, and you scurried further into the corner, climbing on top of a rather large crate, close to the ceiling almost. The cries of shock you’d heard earlier quickly turned into cries of fear and panic, and you could hear wild footsteps running about, almost in the sense of trying to get away. Something was happening, once again. Another massacre? Maybe...but now was not the time to get caught up in thinking, seeing as someone was clearly trying to break open the vault door. Almost deafening hammering sounds for at least 5 minutes, until they all but stopped. One particularly large hit sent the door flying off its hinges, and you bit your lip to keep from yelping. Your eyes already adjusted to the darkness, now being aided by the slight hue of the emergency lights, your heart sank to your toes upon seeing who was standing in the doorway.

Chrollo Lucilfer.

Now wait just a goddamn minute. He’s here...for what? Was he like you? Did he come to steal things as well? Your mind was going at a million miles a minute, and you shoved the small box with the Heart of Hermes into your boot, careful not to make too much noise atop the crate. 

As Chrollo walked in, a rather large group of people followed in, and you rolled your eyes. An entire entourage just to steal things, meanwhile you were doing it alone. A show off if ever there was one. You spotted the man with the long hair almost immediately, and you could swear he spotted you as well, seeing as he turned towards you.

What luck, y/n. He goddamn did.

He raised his hand and pointed directly at you, ceasing to break eye contact.

“Someone’s in here, Chrollo.” he deadpanned, your ears almost melting from how uninterested he sounded. Rough company, it seemed.

“Oh? A human prize amongst everything else here?” he murmured walking towards the snitch who pointed you out. 

The blond man in the track walked over to them as well, and pointed a flashlight towards you, and almost shrieked in excitement.

“It’s them! The hot one from the other day!” he exclaimed, and then quickly tried to take up a more cool and suave composure. 

You rolled your eyes far and long enough, almost to the point where they’d get stuck in the back of your skull if you did it any further. 

“Rapunzel over here is a snitch it seems…” you hissed, glaring at the man with the long hair.

The other blonde, not in a tracksuit, snickered at your remark. 

“What are you doing here.” the Rapunzel wannabe asked plainly.

You raised your eyebrow at the seemingly ridiculous question.

“Seeing the Pope.”, you sneered, squinting at him “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“The Pope isn’t here.” he replied, cocking his head to the side.

You nearly fell off the crate with how the comment went so far over his head.

“I’m stealing things. I’m going to assume you’re stealing things as well. You’re in a vault, I’m in a vault, we’re all in a vault that we shouldn’t be in, two plus two is four, it all makes sense.” you said, sitting up right and making yourself comfortable on top the crate. 

“Who are you.” he asked.

“I’m a thief. Who are you?” you replied, ignoring the depth of his own question.

Before the man could answer, Chrollo answered for him.

“The Phantom Troupe.” Chrollo proclaimed, a smile forming on his lips.

Oh. You slightly realized the situation you were in at this point. You felt silly not realizing who they were beforehand.

“Chrollo, you've been chasing some criminal this whole time?” a woman with pink hair chimed in, making a disgusted face.

“Uh everyone here is a criminal. You guys aren’t exactly special either in the criminal regard.” you said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“We are The Phantom Troupe. The infamous Troupe. We are special.” she quipped, her lip curled upward.

“You have a title. That’s about it. Society still thinks you’re a bunch of deranged, unhinged kleptomaniacs, and they regard me as the same, so we’re all the same brand of criminal in this room and outside of it.” you said with a sigh, getting disinterested in whatever they had to say.

The pink haired girl rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to come back at you when the man with the long hair spoke up.

“Get down from the crate.”, Rapunzel 2.0 demanded.

You put your hands on your knees and wiggled, leaning forward.

“No.” you smiled, retorting simply. 

“I will take you down myself.” He said, slowly approaching you.

“Touch me and I’ll make you bald.” you declared, pulling out one of your knives. 

Chrollo gently grabbed the man's arm, pulling him back. You couldn’t tell if it was for your safety or the safety of the man's hair. 

“Well, it’s wonderful to see you again so soon. Do you think this time I can have your name?” Chrollo asked, almost kindly, “I gave you mine after all.”

You sighed, because in some sort of fairness, he was right.

“Y/N”

“And a last name, y/n?” Chrollo asked again, leaning forward.

“Don’t push it.” you said, resting your head on your fist.

He chuckled, and put up his hand as if to surrender. 

“Well, what have you picked from this bounty in the vault? May I see it?” he said, sauntering over to you.

“Absolutely not.” you replied, locking eyes with him.

“Well then I don’t believe I can let you have it, y/n.” he said with a sigh, stopping some feet away from the crate.

“That’s not the code of thieves you know.” you sang, smiling a little.

The entire group looked at you, to with your shock, a collective look of perplexion, Chrollo included. However, Chrollo also seemed to be quite amused.

“And what is the rule of thieves, dear y/n?” he asked, bringing his fingers to his lip, studying you.

“Finders keepers. That’s literally how this works. I found it, so it’s mine now.” you said, trying to keep yourself from giggling. This was proving to be quite fun.

Chrollo let out a small laugh and nodded a little considering your response. 

However, that was quickly over as the long haired man materialized next to you, gripping your arm and pulling you down from the crate and holding your back against his chest, practically lifting you off the ground. Chrollo came over and began to pat you down quite thoroughly.

“Jeez if you’re going to do all that at least buy me dinner first…” you whispered, feeling his hands in some unsavory (or savory?) places on your body.

He glanced up at you, smiling a little.

“Then allow me to take you to dinner, y/n.” he cooed, seemingly admiring your face.

You squinted at him. Jokes just seem to pass over these peoples heads like planes.

“I’d rather be dead and 6 feet under than go to dinner with a stalker.” you spat, rolling your eyes and wiggling against the taller man.

“Alright then.” he sighed, turning away.

Panic quietly set in in you, and you began to scan the room. Plenty of swords, most from periods of time when iron was the main type of metal in usage.

“Can I at least say my last words?” you asked, looking at Chrollo.

He turned and smiled, giving you a confident nod. You grinned in return, unable to hide the absolute mischief behind the smile. He waved at the man holding you to set you down and you wiggled a bit, making yourself comfortable.

“Iron!” you yelled, raising your hands.

Considerably, a lot more things in the vault were made of iron than you previously suspected, because a multitude of objects sprung up and flew up haphazardly and flew about while hitting various members. An iron helmet smacked the man behind you in the face, clearly taking him by surprise as he fell over. Taking your chance, you took off running. The look on Chrollo’s face was of slight shock as you bolted out of the room. Turning your head slightly, you were now being chased by the people who weren’t hit by various iron objects. Rounding the corner you nearly fell over yourself as you came to a halt: the police, essentially an entire task force, was milling around the building, clearly called to the attack. Wonderful. Turning to run down a different hallway, an absolutely massive man rounded the corner, and you nearly crashed into him, he looked at you, and then past you, seeing what were obviously his comrades at the end of the hallway. Before they could point out that you were escaping, you ran past him just as the task force opened fire. 

Booking it down the hallway, you arrived at the stairs, nearly falling down them trying to get out of the place. Safely getting down the stairs, you turned again, seeing Chrollo at the top of the stairs, with an almost hungry look in his eyes. He made no movement to go after you, and he stopped the Troupe from going after you as well. 

That look, that I’m-going-to-see-you-again look was twinkling in his eye and you smiled as you ran out the door into the night.

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite Entry #25: Wish

FFxivWrite 2020 Prompt #25: Wish Masterpost The excitement of Happy Hour had finally died down, and as ever, the proprietress was the last one out the door, closing down the teahouse. As she stepped outside, she was greeted with the comfortable crisp of the autumn night air and that quiet not quite silence of insects chirping and the wind rustling through the Black Shroud’s trees, though muffled by the faint ringing in her ears from the volume of the night’s performances. It was dark, save for the twinkling of the stars above and the glow of the lamps on the lawn and what little light shone out the windows of the teahouse. After spending all night inside the busy tavern bustling with people, music, and light, the world outside was bizarrely quiet and empty. It was a refreshing reprieve, a moment of peace, a chance to breathe the fresh air and relax now that her job entertaining had ended for the night. However, it also brought a strange loneliness, to go so quickly from being so very surrounded by others to being so utterly alone, from so much talk and laughter and melodies to only the songs of crickets and cicadas. No other souls still lingered about, as the stillness only emphasized. Val had long since gone home to rest, he said for work from Berrod in the morning. Always work, always training. That’s all it had been, especially since his return from the Empire’s territory. He might as well have stayed there she felt sometimes, for all the difference bringing him home had made. That contract they’d made so long ago didn’t seem to matter to him now. As far as he seemed to be concerned, she was safe, and her life was boring, and thus she had little need of him now. She’d not tell him otherwise, of course. He’d have to figure that one out on his own. With no reason to hurry home, boots shuffling over the dew-dampened grass, Faye wandered across the lawn to the small garden nestled in the corner, passing through the archway that marked its threshold. She’d built a better home for the memorial pyre that Raisan made, a proper place for it, shielded from the elements by brick walls and surrounded by flowers, with a small fountain wrapping around it and benches at either side. She settled down upon one of the benches, watching the ever-burning flames dance atop the pyre in a constant vigil to those lost. The Rising had come and now gone. The Calamity wasn’t where she’d lost him, but all the talk of brave heroes lost always reminded her of him all the same. After all, was it not the fall of Dalamud that had set their lives on their courses, sealed their fates to tear down the entire life around her and see them reunited in an inevitable collision that would ultimately be his demise? What had befallen them was an entirely different calamity. She shivered as a small breeze brought a chill against her skin, drawing her arms around her frame to fight off the sudden cold. When all the hustle and bustle passed, it always felt like something was missing. One of the songs from the evening stuck within her mind. Wish you were here. @its-the-val-pal​

[pocket-clown]

Smile | Arthur Fleck x reader

// AN: I’m going to be entirely honest: I’m very shy about sharing this. This was actually the first thing that I ever wrote for Arthur, and I had posted it awhile back but deleted it within a few hours because I felt (and still kind of do) very... insecure about it, especially since I was, and still am, trying to get the hang of writing for Arthur and I worry that I write him too ooc.

My mental health has been kinda down in the dumps for the last few months (which brings me into thanking the few people that I’ve been DM’ing with on here and how patient with me they’ve been); a lot of stuff that I thought was calming down ended up suddenly flaring up really badly again, and so I wrote this in the span of about three days because I was feeling too bad to sleep those nights, and I needed some way to comfort myself.

Summary: Reader recalls the recent, first meeting she had with a certain neighbor of hers and hopes that it’ll bring about some sort of positive change to her life. Both reader and Arthur are, essentially, total strangers in this - something they both, secretly, hope will change. 

Continuation can be found here

Words: 3,064

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        Very few feelings carried the same weight that emptiness did, and the heaviness that was settled in the bottom of your stomach made your entire body almost ache with physical pain. You’d been able to stave it off for most of the day, but once you were home and left to your own company did it grow in size, and no longer were you able to just ignore it. It permeated your entire being, soaking into every bit of your conscience much like how the dampness of the freezing rain that was pouring down outside would’ve soaked into your sweater if you’d gone out without an umbrella, the thought of which making you curl further into the blanket you had wrapped around yourself as you lay in bed. 

Regardless of how hard you tried to force yourself to think of other things, like the good instead of the bad, or whatever was playing on your small television, you just couldn’t stop your mind from eventually wandering back to the thoughts that did nothing but remind you of how absolutely lonely you were - how utterly meaningless your life felt. It was nothing new - quite the opposite, in fact - but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with, especially since you were in a new environment where you were unfamiliar with pretty much everything that surrounded you, apart from the small amount of your personal belongings that filled your cramped apartment.

Though they varied in intensity, the feelings of loneliness and isolation never actually left you completely; they’d loom over you, day and night, sometimes only a light breeze that tickled the back of your conscience and other times a pest that gnawed a hole into it, and their presence alone made you dread your inevitable return to your small apartment in the evenings where you’d be left with nothing but yourself, your thoughts, and whatever program you could find on TV in a fruitless attempt at distracting yourself. You were just so unbelievably fed up with everything; fed up with feeling so stuck, fed up with feeling so miserable - fed up with just being. Even amongst your coworkers and the crowds of strangers that filled the grocery stores and the seats around you on the subway did you feel so far out of reach, so far out of touch with everyone, that sometimes you felt that you could stand in place and start screaming at the top of your lungs and not a single person would even so much as bat an eye at the outburst. At times you had a hard time even fathoming the fact that you existed alongside them, and you found it an increasingly hard feeling to cope with as time went on and you realized you weren’t really feeling any better like you thought you would’ve. You were beginning to completely isolate yourself; social affairs and being in public had little appeal when compared to the safety of your apartment, and leaving for work was really the only thing you could psych yourself up enough to actually do. 

Why you’d even decided to move to Gotham of all places boggled your mind, but deep down you knew it was a pathetic attempt at trying to surround yourself with more. Deep down, you craved more; more people, more places, more opportunities - because despite your general lack of interest in socialization, part of you actually desired some sort of connection that would give your small existence even a smidgen of something close to true life - something which you were beginning to feel was impossible to find. You’d hoped that moving to a highly populated place with cramped streets and the hustle and bustle of city streets and plazas would’ve encouraged you to come out of your shell, but it was beginning to feel like that was never going to happen, regardless of how much you tried to convince yourself that it eventually would.

That was, until, you actually made the move and found yourself your very own apartment in one of the many neglected complexes that the city had to offer. It was nearly vacant with only a handful of other tenants occupying it, but given your small savings and what little you made from your job it was all you could really afford. Though your hours were close to the normal 9 to 5, overtime for a meager addition to your pay wasn’t uncommon and you found yourself frequently returning home a few hours later - usually around 7, occasionally closer to 8. 

At first, you absolutely hated returning home so late - days at work tended to leave you completely drained of energy and the extra hours left you with little time to take care of non-work related responsibilities - but as the days went on, you realized that if it weren’t for the extra hours that you initially regret picking up, then you wouldn’t have met Arthur like you had.

Arthur - your socially awkward, almost-neighbor; the same guy you were actually warned to stay away from by another tenant when you first moved in. He’d told you something about how Arthur was unstable, something about him being weird and making everyone uncomfortable - but if you were going to be entirely honest, you really didn’t listen. You had always tried to keep yourself from judging someone on a superficial level, especially when you knew next to nothing about them and what little you did know came from the mouth of someone who didn’t even bother telling you their own name. Despite your disincline to believe what you were told about Arthur, though, you really didn’t feel the need to seek him out for any reason or another. He was another guy that lived in your building that you’d probably cross paths with on occasion, and that would be that. 

Or at least, you felt that way up until the day you actually met him.

                                                        -----

Purse in hand, you’d stepped out of your apartment without even a glance up as you rummaged through your bag. Plagued with some of the worst brain fog you’d ever had, you were beginning to develop a terrible habit of forgetting things and not realizing that you were missing something until you were well away from your apartment, and considering how absolutely atrocious your day had already been the absolute last thing you needed was for you to get to the market and realize that you’d forgotten your wallet, keys, or something else equally as important. It was late, nearly 8:30 in the evening, but an impromptu trip to the market was called for as you’d been putting one off for nearly a month and you were starting to run low on quite a few necessities as a result.

Mind far too preoccupied with both making sure you had everything you needed as well as attempting to make sense of the messy mental shopping list you’d made, you were so lost in thought that you failed to notice the presence of someone else in the hallway, and thanks to your complete lack of awareness you collided right into them - the two of you slamming together hard enough that your purse fell to the floor, sending what little contents it had in it scattering, and the other person stumbling backwards and onto the floor with a soft oof.

That other person had actually been Arthur, which you learned eventually, but at that moment you had no clue who the person you’d run into was, and that almost made you feel even worse about knocking them over. You were still new around, and you really didn’t need the others in the building to think you were both careless and rude. 

“- Jesus, I’m sorry!” You blurted out, completely pulled back to reality as you regained your balance and looked down to see who it was you’d run into. “Christ!, I wasn’t even paying attention - I’m so sorry, are you alright?” 

Your eyes met the soft green ones of the particularly tired looking man on the floor in front of you, and for a brief moment you’d forgotten that you’d just knocked him right over as the two of you just stared at each other. He seemed much more caught off guard by the interaction than you were (though you couldn’t really blame him since you doubt he really planned on getting shoved over), and you could feel your face redden with the heat of embarrassment once you realized that aside from your initial apology almost half a minute ago, neither of you had spoken a word or moved from your spots. 

As you stepped forward, prepared to stoop down and offer your hand to help him up, he stopped you before you could by pulling himself up, sweeping his hands behind himself to lightly brush the back of his pants off as he stuttered out a quiet apology.

“Are you alright?” You’d asked him, a bit bemusedly considering the fact that he had apologized to you when you were the one at fault. You kept your attention on his face, looking for any signs of discomfort or irritation; God knew that with the majority of Gotham’s citizens, most would’ve blown up at you for knocking them right on their ass like you had and so you’d braced yourself for the impending blow up - but when it never came and his response was much calmer than you had expected it to be, you couldn’t help but actually smile a bit out of pure disbelief.

“Yeah - I’m alright. I’m fine.” His voice, his deep but soft voice, sounded strained as he spoke, almost as if he were trying to keep himself calm. He probably didn’t want to be in this situation anymore than you did. 

“Are you sure? You fell pretty hard there.” 

“It was my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going -”

“Oh, no! Not at all, it was my fault - I was too busy messing with my… bag.” You cut him off, voice trialing off as you gestured loosely to the items scattered on the floor. “I should’ve been paying better attention.” 

Silence fell over the two of you, neither knowing quite what to say, and you couldn’t help but shift awkwardly in your spot. You debated on apologizing again or maybe even introducing yourself to him, but you figured that if he wanted to know, then he would’ve asked.

I really need to get going.

With a quick glance at him, you knelt down so you could collect the scant amount of items your purse had spilled, trying your damnedest to not be any more clumsy than you already had been by dropping them again, a task that proved difficult as you were so flustered that you were trembling. He seemed to hesitate in front of you for a second, as if he were trying to figure out if he should just leave you to your mess or help, and after taking a moment of what you assumed was contemplation he surprised you by joining you on the floor and handing you your runaway chapstick, an action you earnestly thanked him for. 

The two of you were silent as you collected everything, and once you had the last item it in your hand, you realized that you didn’t actually recognize it - a white, kraft paper bag that was rolled up to keep its contents from spilling out. It felt light in your hand, and when you turned it over to get a better look at it you were able to read the name FLECK, ARTHUR that was printed in bold, small letters along the top of the label that was stapled onto it.

Oh.

Oh.

This was Arthur. 

This was Arthur - this was the guy you were warned to stay away from? The guy who was helping you pick up the stuff that you spilled, the guy who apologized to you when you were the one who’d knocked him over? It made no sense. 

“Huh - I think this is yours. Arthur, right?” You couldn’t help but pray that he didn’t think you were trying to be nosy. You almost regret saying his name; he hadn’t even told you it yet so one could only assume that you’d figured it out by reading the bag, which rattled slightly as you handed it over to him. “I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I just wasn’t sure what it was -” 

“Oh, it’s okay. I didn’t think that you were.” He took the bag from you and smiled; it was such a gentle, albeit a bit unsure, smile that you couldn’t help but mirror as something about it was so incredibly contagious. “And, yeah. Arthur - My name is Arthur.”  

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Arthur!” Your voice wavered ever so slightly, despite your best attempt at keeping it as cheery as you could. It was nice to meet him, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable - though not with him. You really weren’t expecting to speak with anyone else aside from the cashier at the market, and actually having to push yourself to interact with someone on a more personal level wasn’t exactly what you had prepared for. Arthur was kind, from what you could tell, and so you hoped that he wasn’t judging you for how you were probably making the situation much more awkward than it needed to be.

The soft expression on his face seemed to falter ever so slightly, and you realized that the way you had said “...to finally meet you” carried some sort of connotation; it told Arthur that you had already heard about him, and considering how he was spoken about to you it didn’t exactly take a genius to know that Arthur could only assume that what you had heard about him hadn’t been the best.

“Oh, it wasn’t anything,” You tried to dismiss any concern he had as you motioned towards the other apartments down the hallway. “Someone just kinda gave me a run down of everyone else living here - mentioned some names, told me who was around. You were the only one I hadn’t met, yet.” Which was a lie, but Arthur didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that you were so socially inept that you had been putting off meeting your damn neighbors, and he especially didn’t need to know how he was spoken about.

Before the conversation could continue any further though, the weight of your purse in your hand reminded you of why you’d even left your apartment in the first place. 

“Hey - I’d love to talk more, but I gotta run. The store’s closing soon, and I gotta pick up a few things. You sure you’re alright?” You took a step backwards towards the elevator, but kept your eyes on Arthur. You really did feel bad about knocking him over, though something told you he wasn’t that unused to that sort of thing.

“I already said that I was, didn’t I?” His voice was soft, his question rhetorical. You couldn’t help but smile, and you took a second to really look at him; even under the hallway’s incredibly unflattering, shabby lighting you could see that he wasn’t bad looking in the slightest, though he did look a bit tired - he looked like he needed a good nap, or three. He was, obviously, older than you were, but if anything it just added to his charm, as did that slightly too small yellow hoodie that he wore over top of his brown button up sweater. He looked soft, if you were being honest with yourself, and softness was something you learned was becoming incredibly scarce in the world. 

“...So I won’t keep you any longer,” 

Wait - had he been talking this entire time? 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” His voice was tinged with hopefulness, and you found yourself nodding eagerly in response. He didn’t seem to notice how you completely spaced out there for a second, or if he did, he really didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah - of course! I’m right there,” You pointed to your apartment door, “So, yeah, I’ll see you around. Sorry, again, for knocking you over - have a good night!” 

And with a skip in your step, you pivoted around and walked towards the elevator, pressing the call button about four times as you listened to Arthur’s departing footsteps and the rustling of the Rx bag in his hand as he walked in the opposite direction.

In its usual fashion, the elevator took a good minute to open its door, but there was little time to be annoyed as your attention was pulled from it by Arthur’s sudden “Hey!” from down the hallway, and you stuck your head back out into the hall, arm propped against the door to keep it from closing as you looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“You - You have a really nice smile. You should smile more often.” 

Though his voice was a bit uneasy - shy, almost - he sounded so sure in what he was saying that you did little to fend off the smile that bloomed on your face in response.

“I can try to, but only ‘cause you said so.” 

Though you said it with much more panache than you really meant to, you did mean it. If there was one way to get you to do something more often it was complimenting you for it, and something about the fact that it was Arthur who said it gave you butterflies. 

With a quick wave of goodbye you ducked back into the elevator, letting the door slide shut behind you as you tipped your head back and gazed up at the flickering light on the ceiling. Now alone, you let the smile on your face grow as you let Arthur’s words sink in, and you bid him a mental goodnight as the elevator began its rickety descent.

Exiting the elevator and heading out the front door of the building, so long gone from the eighth floor where you previously were that you didn’t see how Arthur lingered in his spot for a moment, eyes fixed on the door of the elevator where you’d disappeared into before he turned and continued down the hallway, the smile you had become so fond of in your short meeting with him settled on his face.

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taglist; 

@tahliamalfoydepp @tsukiakarinobara (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found -Chapter 21

Warnings: nothing really. Mentions of blood and gun violence I guess

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007

She arrives in Dhaka shortly before ten in the morning and takes a taxi to the hustle and bustle of the downtown market area. Her escape from the Mahajan home had gone much easier than she'd anticipated; the challenging part having to somehow slip from underneath the weight of Tyler's arm in an effort to sneak out of the bed. When he did manage to rest, he was a notoriously light sleeper; awakening at the slightest of noises or the smallest hint of trouble. That morning he'd been resting heavier than normal. On his stomach with his arm draped over her, snoring louder than she'd ever heard him. And her heart had nearly leapt clear out of his chest when he stirred, mumbling incoherently but never awakening.

 From there on out, things had been simple. Catching the overnight guards on a joint coffee break out by the pool; laughing and chatting and paying absolutely no attention to what was going on around them. She'd been able to pinch the keys to the rental off the kitchen counter where her husband had left them the night before, along with an extra loaded Glock revolver he kept store in a lock box on a shelf in the master bedroom closet; freshly cleaned and holding a full magazine. 

 She once again considered telling him; shaking him awake and announcing that she was heading to Dhaka. That if he wanted to come along so be it, but she wasn't going to let him stop her. His resistance would have been legendary, especially now that they knew she was indeed pregnant. And she knew his already overwhelming need to protect her would become even more so.  He saw it in the same way as he did the job; she and Amelia were his priorities and responsibility and failure was simply not  an option.

 So she let him sleep.

 The market is just as she remembers; sights, smells, sounds. The dirty streets and derelict  buildings,  the scent of diesel gas and strong coffee hanging in the air, the chatter and laughter of pedestrians and the blaring of horns and humming of engines. She stands across the street from the hotel that they had stayed at a year ago; run down and in disarray, faded paint and cracked mortar, crumbling balconies with missing railings. She can see the patio that had belonged to them; on the third floor, a heavy wool rung over over the wrought iron balcony railing and two simple plastic patio chairs tipped on their sides. Every morning they'd sit out there. Sipping strong coffee and filling their bellies with whatever Tyler had been able to grab that morning. Sometimes they'd simply people watch and make commentary on what was happening on the street below. Other mornings they'd be painstakingly surveying the crowds and sharing notes on anything and anyone that seemed even remotely suspicious. 

 Most of the time however, they would just engage in small talk. Those little yet entirely eye opening conversations that take place between couples when they're just in the 'getting to know you' stage.  Sure, they had quickly come realize what they both liked and enjoyed in bed, but they still very much needed to see if they clicked outside of a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets.

 Her feelings are mixed.  It is both enlightening and disheartening to be back in Dhaka, where she'd fallen in love with the man she now called her husband.  Where she'd been made to feel alive again; deserving of love and adoration,  respect and worship.  She had long ago forgotten what it had felt like to be in love; the butterflies in your stomach,  the way your heart began to race when they so as much smiled at you, those jolts of electricity that passed between the two of you every time you touched or kissed.

  She had thought she'd never experience those  again;  she had a failed marriage, an abusive narcissistic ex under her belt, a job that she enjoyed and could not see herself walking away from.  She had no more trust left. No faith. 

 And then she'd walked into that shack in the Australian outback.

 It is bittersweet. The good memories and the horribly bad co-mingling. And she forces herself to walk away, not allowing her emotions to get the better of her. She needed to keep her head on straight. She needed clear thinking and her instincts to steer her through those busy and often violent streets. And she needed to hold onto that overwhelming need to revenge.  To see things through  to the end of the line.  Nik hadn't been able to finish things off a year ago. But she was determined to.

 She grabs a herbal tea in hopes of soothing her queasy stomach; nerves and anticipation not mixing well with ferocious morning sickness. She'd had to take three Dramamine tablets just to make it through the short flight.  She promises herself that when this is all over, she'll go back to the things that helped her get through the first pregnancy: proper diet and sleep, a psychologically healthy way of coping with stress. If she could get through the first one despite all of the angst surrounding her, she could get through anything.

 She wanders the market to kill time. Talking to the vendors and browsing their wares, attempting to drive away any suspicion as to why someone like her would be in a place like that. Especially alone.  She hides her eyes under the brim of a baseball cap but they are always watching.  Casually observing the people around her. Some of the locals watch her intently; perhaps recognizing her face yet unable to place where and how they actually know it. And she gets friendly smiles and pleasant hellos, readily welcomed into the area.

 It is so easy. It always has been. Blending in in order to to garner valuable information had been her specialty when she was still on the job. Able to gain peoples' trust, casually asking all the right questions without seeming overly interested. The people in the market had taken to her. Taken to them. A young, attractive newlywed couple who'd forgone a traditional honeymoon in favour of outreach work. The premise had seemed wild and far fetched when Nik had pitched it. But it had worked.

 A little too well.

 Her cell phone vibrates in the front pocket of her shorts. Another frantic and downright furious text message sent on Tyler's behalf. He's been calling and texting non stop since he'd woken up and found out that not only she was missing, but also the keys to the rental and one of his weapons.  He's worried. Pissed off. The texts a and voicemails a mixture of of him worrying about if she's okay and demanding to know where she is, and angry please for her to just call him back.  She feels guilty as she stands there, staring down at the last message he'd sent.  Knowing the rage that he must be in; anger and worry are powerful combination. And her fingers linger on the screen, attempting to come up with a suitable reply. She should at least tell him that she's okay. That she'll be home by night fall and he doesn't need to worry. But when the phone rings in her and his cell number pops up on the screen, she hesitates. Thumb over the green talk icon.

 She opts to send it to voicemail instead.

 ***

 He knew something was wrong the moment he awoke. Torn from an unusually deep and peaceful sleep by the baby's shrill, incessant crying and one of the maids pounding on the door and  asking if everything was okay.  He hadn't had a sound sleep like that in years; his senses and instincts always running on high.

 Esme would never leave the baby to cry; believing that you could never spoil a child, especially an infant, with too much attention and cuddles. So when he'd bolted up in bed and saw that her place beside him was empty, he lost it. A combination of rage and worry driving him through the roof. Attempting to stay calm for his daughter that so desperately needed him and failing miserably; relinquishing all care to the now visibly frazzled nanny. 

 His brain immediately switches to auto pilot; propelling him through the room, searching  for clues as to where she's wandered off to. Her purse is missing. The pyjamas she'd worn to bed discarded in the hamper in the en-suite bathroom. And then he sees it: the closet door ajar.  He knows. He just knows. Storming across the room and throwing the door open and grabbing the lock box on the shelf.

 It's empty. The lock picked.

 His first reaction is absolute rage. At her, at the guards for completely fucking up and being so oblivious to what was going around them that they didn't even her sneak out. How does someone get away that fast? Stealing both a gun and a car without anyone noticing? And he's pissed that she won't return any of his calls or texts. Rage and frustration growing with each passing second.

 Worry comes next. That maybe the first anniversary of his near death experience has pushed her over the edge. And it's then that he begins to slowly piece if all together: the freak out that she'd had back home when she'd seen Farhad's picture. Her incessant, almost obsessive need for revenge. How she'd talked about wanting to go back to the bridge. The one place she felt as if she could finally let go of the past and move on.

 He calls the one person he knows can help.

 “Where the fuck is my wife, Nik?” he doesn't even give her a chance to say hello of give her trademark 'talk to me'.

 “Your wife? What are you talking about? What...?”

 “I woke up  and she was gone. You were worried that I'd be the one taking off? My wife is missing, Nik. She's gone. And she stole my gun and my car and I have no fucking clue where she is.”

 Silence from the other end.

 “Don't even try and bullshit me, Nik. I know that you know. There's no way she thought of this all on her own and the only other person she trusts other than me, is you. Where is she?”

 “I honestly never thought it would come to this,” she admits. “I thought she'd just move on. Let it go.”

 “What are you talking about? What...?”

 “She wanted me to find the kid that shot you. Farhad. She wanted me to track him down and arrange a meeting with him. At first I went along with it...”

 “What the fuck, Nik...” he closes his eyes and releasing a long, shaky sigh.  “Why? Why the hell would you agree to that?”

 “I changed my mind. I started dragging my heels. Making excuses. Hoping she'd just let it go.”

 “Well obviously she hasn't.  And she's obviously got someone else helping her.”

 “I think it's Jason. He asked for some personal time. I became suspicious and had Yaz track his cell . It says he's somewhere in Bangladesh. We have no idea of his exact location.”

 There's the rage again. Accompanied by so much more. Worry. Frustration. The burn of bile in his throat.

 “Tyler?”

 “I need to you to get me a flight to Dhaka. Right now.”

 “Tyler, I don't think...”

 “I don't give a shit what you think. I don't care what strings you have to pull or how many asses you have to kiss. Get me a flight.”

 “I need a little time. I...”

 'Now Nik,” he orders, and disconnects the call.

 ****

 “Hey, I remember you!” a cheerful voice calls from across the street. “The wife!”

 Esme is surprised to see him after all this time, still tucked away on a small side street away from the hustle and bustle of the main market.  The vendor that that sold Tyler the bracelet that she'd wandered away to admire. A simple piece of jewellery becoming the catalyst for so much more.

 “I'm surprised you even remember me,” she says. “What with wearing a hat and all.”

 “I never forget a pretty face. Or such a sweet smile. It's been a long time, friend.”

 “A whole year,” she confirms, returning the hug that he offers.  “You've been well?”

 “I have. Things have been busy, busy. You still have the bracelet?”  he nods down at her left wrist,  a prideful smile spreading from ear to ear. “Looks as good as new!”

 “The clasp broke  and my husband fixed it for me.”

 “Ahhh...the husband...nice guy..very tall...very strong...where is he? He here?”

 “Off doing his own thing,” she lies, and immediately feels guilty for it. “We have a baby now. A little girl. Amelia,” she produces her cell phone from the pocket on her shorts, once again ignoring the dozens of text messages that she's received in the past ten minutes alone. Instead, she brings up a photo on the phone and holds it out to out to him. Their first ever family picture; Amelia a mere ten days old, in her father's arm in a white eyelet sundress,  the three of them sitting in the sand.  Barefoot. Tanned. Smiling.

  It seems like a lifetime ago.

 “She's beautiful!” he gushes. “Like her mother. But definitely looks like her father. How have you been? Good? Everyone is fine? You just disappeared last year. Out of thin air. I just stopped seeing you one day. We had some trouble here. Right after you left. Between those drug people that we talked about last time you were here. And some white fellow.  There was a big shoot out out on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Did you hear about it?”

 “I heard a few things,” she says. Not feeling the need to tell him that she'd been right in the damn middle of it. “Do you still have your ear to the ground? Is there anything new going on?”

 “Trouble,” he throws up his hands in exasperation. “Always trouble.”

 She browses his various items as she speaks. “What kind?”

 “Some white fellow is in town. Not your white fellow, though. He's been asking a lot of questions. Wanting to know about one of the street kids.”

 Jason.

 “I thought maybe he was here to cause trouble. Or take the kid away. But they already seemed to know each other. Like they weren't strangers when they met.  They were on a first name basis.”

 She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don't think this white guy was just playing nice to get something he wanted?”

 “Perhaps. But it didn't seem that way. I'm very good at reading people. And I could read him well. They knew each other. No doubt in my mind. Very casual when they spoke. Not angry. Or in a hurry. Just like old friends.”

 Her stomach clenches. And she has to  force the vomit down.

 “Why you ask?”

 She manages a smile. “Just curious. Is there anything else? Did you see anything? Hear what they were talking about?”

 “Just that they left together. Yesterday. From the hotel up the street. The one you stayed at last year. I never saw them again. You know them?”

 “The white fellow is a colleague of mine. Or at least I thought he was.”

 She selects a child's size bracelet for the baby and produces her wallet from her bag; removing  two twenties and holding them out in offering. Too much money for the jewellery, yet not enough for the information he'd given her.

  That was invaluable. 

 “Thank you,” she says, as she drops the wallet and bracelet into her bag. “I honestly can't thank you enough. I have to go. There's some things I need to do.”

 “It was nice seeing you!” he calls after her. “Tell your husband to stop by. Nice guy he is!”

 Esme gives a small wave in farewell, then disappears into the crowd.

 ****

 The hotel manager gives her an extra key with little more than twenty bucks and a brief description of who she is looking for.  And she waits outside of the door, straining her ears for any kind of life inside.  The creak of footsteps on the rickety, bowed floor,  the sound of the shower running through this ancient pipes.

 Silence.

 She lets herself into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. In case a quick getaway is needed and there's no fumbling with knobs and hinges. The room is tiny; much smaller than the one that she and Tyler had shared a year ago in this very building. Sunlight streams through the window, highlighting the particles of dust that hang and float in the air. Like the rest of the hotel's rooms and the building itself, it is a complete dive:  the hardwood floors scuffed and decaying, various stains marring the walls, water marks on the once white stucco ceiling; crude patches of plaster covering where work had been done to fix a leak. 

 Like the room she'd stayed in, the linens on the bed are fresh and new. A crisp white that makes the damage and filth around it even more noticeable.

 She snoops. Going through cupboards in the tiny kitchenette. Rummaging through silverware drawers, cupboards full of chipped mugs and plates. Not knowing exactly what is she's looking for, but letting her logic and instincts guide her; the old aspects of the job quickly returning and filling her with much needed confidence and courage.  There's a coffee cup in the sink; water and soon to dissolved dish soap filling it to the brim, a sponge floating in the midst.  

 He's been gone a while.

 She moves into the combined bedroom and living area next. Leafing through pamphlets, two days worth of newspapers, and discarded sheets of writing paper. Still nothing.  Placing her hands on her hips she takes a step back to get a look at the room. It is surprisingly tidy considering the actual state of the building. The patio door has been left open a crack; allowing the dirt and debris from the busy street below to trickle into the room.  The air is hot and heavy. Suffocating. And the sweat has already begun to gather at her hairline and across her brow.

 The bed is made, sheets pulled tight, and she moves towards it. Pausing long enough to pull open the drawers on the nightstand. Empty.  Frowning, she moves along. Running her hand along the top of the sheet in hopes of feeling something hidden underneath them. Then drops to her knees and slides her hand in between the mattress and the box spring; blindly feeling her way along the smooth surface until her fingers come in contact with something smooth.

 It's a file folder. Brand new. The colour still fresh and vibrant, the corners unbent and still sharp.  And she perches herself on the edge of the bed, preparing herself for what she may find inside. It could be nothing; just some paperwork that included sensitive information and names that preying eyes weren't privy too. 

 Photographs.  Some black in white.  Others in colour.  The bile rises in her throat once again and the nausea kicks into high gear.  Her heart pounds within her chest; hands shaking, the sweat trickling down now. 

 Tyler. Her. Their baby. Dating as far back to his release from the hospital, when Esme was still pregnant and they'd been struggling to keep things together but were optimistic about the future.  One of the moment they were leaving the medical facility with their three day old infant. There's more. So many more.  Outside of their apartment, on the street, at the beach. Snapshots of private and personal moments. Where they're smiling and laughing and completely oblivious to the fact someone was watching them.

 Her cell phone rings and she nearly jumps clear out of her skin.

 Nik.

 She would have just let it go to voicemail. Ignoring it and the text messages that would start pouring in. But she needs to tell someone. Anyone.

 “Where the hell are you?” Nik hisses, before Esme even has a chance to offer a greeting.

 “I'm in Dhaka.”

 “What is wrong with you? All hell is breaking loose.  Why would you do this? I told you to just drop it. To let it go.”

 “You said you would help me.  Where are you, Nik? Why didn't you follow through? You promised you'd help.”

 “I was hoping you'd change your mind. This is insane. You're insane. What...?”

 “I'm in Jason's room,” she announces.

 “Excuse me? What? What the hell are you doing in there? Are you...?”

 “No. I'm not having an affair. It's not what you think.  I sent Jason to Dhaka. To find out more about that kid Fahrad. Only he already knows him. He's in on it, Nik. All the bullshit that's been happening to Ovi. All the threats, all the letters, all the dead animals. He's involved in it. Somehow.”

 “You're crazy. I'm sending Yaz to come and get you and Tyler.”

 “Tyler? What...?”

 “He left for Dhaka four hours ago. He's freaking out, Esme. He's pissed and he's worried and he's on his way to you. I had to tell him. I had to.  He's your husband. The father of your child. He loves you. And he has a right to know what the hell is going on and if you're okay.”

 “There's pictures,” she says. “A whole folder of them. Of Tyler and I. And of the baby. Taken back in Australia.  As far back as when he was still in the hospital.”

 “What are you talking about? Esme...did you break into his hotel room? What the hell are you doing? You need to get out of there. Before he comes back. Just get the hell out of there and don't look back.”

 “I've gotta go, Nik.”

 “Esme, listen to me. Just get out of there and go somewhere safe. In public. Tell Tyler where you are and he'll find you.  Don't make this any worse than it has to be.”

 “I've got to,” she insists, and disconnecting the call, drops both her cell and the folder into her bag. 

 ****

 She returns the key and gives the manager another ten for his troubles. He's grateful; business has been slow and the owner is two weeks late with his pay.

 “Did you find everything you were looking for?” he curiously inquires, and she smiles and slips her sunglasses onto her face.

 “More than I expected to.”

 Her stomach churns. The sweat comes in rivers. Yet she violently shivers as she steps out onto the busy street. Head down to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. Keeping a casual pace, wanting to avoid drawing any suspicious towards her.

 She's half a block from the main part of the market when it happens. A hand roughly snatching her by the top of the arm and yanking her into the alley. A second hand coming down over her mouth to stifle the startled yelp.  Someone big and strong using their power to pin her up against the brick wall.

 “Don't fucking bite me.”

 The voice is low. Savage almost.  Accompanied by furious blue eyes. And instead of sinking her teeth into the flesh of his palm, she shakes her head vigorously to get him to release his grip.

 “Tyler, what the hell?! You scared the shit out me!”

 “I scared the shit out of you? That's fucking rich. What the hell are you doing here? I wake up and you're gone and I find out you're here? In Dhaka? What the fuck?”

 “I told you I needed to come back here,” she feebly attempts an explanation. He's too livid; nothing will get through to him when he's in this kind of state.  “I told you and you refused to listen.”

 “Because I thought it was fucking insane. But if you'd just asked me to come with you, I would have. You know that. What the fuck, Esme? Why were you in the hotel?”

 “You've been following me?”

 “Since the market. Since you talked to that vendor from last year. He's the one who told me you were looking for some colleague of yours.”

 “I broke into Jason's room,” she admits.

 “What the...”

 “He isn't who he says he is, Tyler. He isn't who anyone thinks he is. He even fooled Nik.”

 He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

 “He's one of them. One of Asif's people. And I know this sounds insane and I would probably think so too if I just hadn't gone through quite possibly the most messed up year in my entire life.”

 “Considering the shit I've seen and done, nothing is crazy any more.”

 “The vendor told me that he saw Jason and that Fahrad kid together. Which would make sense at first because I'm the one who told him to come here and track him down. But he said they acted as if they knew each other. And that they left together. So I decided to go to the hotel and...”

 “Commit break and enter,” he finishes for her.

 “Well technically it wasn't B and E because I had a key. But  I found these...” she reaches into her bag and pulls out the file folder.  “Pictures. Of us. Of Millie. Going back to when you were still in the hospital. This is fucked, Tyler. He's fucked.”

 He takes the folder from her and flips through it. She sees the way his jaw clenches and the way the vein in his throat begins to throb, making that thick, jagged scar even more noticeable. Those blue eyes growing darker with each photo.

 “What are we going to do?” she asks.

 “We're going to the bridge,” he tucks the folder back into her bag. “We're going to give him what he wants.”

 “Tyler...no...we can't...you can't.”

 “Do you trust me? I need you to trust me.”

 She nods. “With my life.”

 He takes hold of her hand, pulling her out onto the sidewalk. “Let's go.”

 ****

 “I've done all that I can,” Nik announces.  “Pulled every string and called in every favour I could. I can have the bridge closed for twenty minutes. That's it.”

 “I won't need that long,” Tyler informs her, cell phone pressed to his ear as he and Esme sit in a stolen car on the west side of the bridge. It's all coming together now: alarmingly vivid recollections of the last time he'd been there.

  The sights and the sounds; boots crunching against pavement as he stepped over the sea of bodies that Saju had already collected on his own.  The rapid pops of gunfire further down the bridge, terrified bystanders fleeing from the area, the moans of those that lay dying in the roadway.  He'd already been injured; shrapnel from bullets, shards of glass embedded in his skin, combining with the wounds that he'd suffered the day before.  Shoulder in agony; every movement causing pain like a white hot poker to shoot from the nape of his neck to the tips of his fingers. He'd been vaguely aware of the fact he was bleeding; remembering the way it softly trickled down the left side of his face and both arms.  He was weary; panting and out of breath.

 But he kept going.  With each bullet he fired and each life he took, he counted down the steps...the seconds...until freedom.  Until he'd see her again. Thinking of the plans they'd made while tangled up in bed, naked and sweaty bodies pressed up against one another. His fingers tangled in her hair and her head resting on his chest, their voices sleepy as they talked about all the things they would do as they got to know each other in all the ways that didn't involve. Not that the sex wasn't going. It was incredible. But there'd been so much more to discover about one another and he'd been looking forward to it. They'd travel; that was their final decision. Taking some of the money they'd be paid and taking nothing more than their passports and a few change of clothes and just seeing where they'd end up.  Colorado was first on the list.  He wanted to see the mountains.  Where she lived. Maybe even meet her family. 

 And that..along with seeing Ovi's safe return home...had been what had kept him going. Despite the blood and the pain and the mounting injuries. The thought that someone was waiting for him on the other side of that bridge.

 “Don't kill him,” Nik implores.

 “I will if I have to.”  He is expecting to have to make the decision. Whether to take the younger man's life or just beating him within inches of his demise and then letting him live. 

 “If you can find cover afterwards, I'll send Yaz to get you. An hour. Two at the most.”

 “We'll manage,” he says.

 “Be careful, Tyler. I know you're angry. I know you want revenge.”

 He's not sure if she means against Jason or the kid who'd nearly taken his life.  He choose the former.  “He put my wife in danger, Nik. Who knows what he was going to do to her once he got a hold of her. It wouldn't have been good. You and I both know that.”

 “You don't know how many other people are involved in this. He can't be working alone.  It's too much work for just one person. Don't let your guard down. Make sure you come back in one piece. Both of you.”

 He disconnects the call and slips his phone into the pocket on the leg of his cargo pants. Reaching for Esme's bag that sits at her feet, he takes out the Glock; removing the magazine and one in the chamber.

 “Are you sure this is going to work?” she nervously inquires.

 “It'll work,” he assures her, and drops the gun back into the satchel before placing it in her lap.

 “I wasn't going to kill him, you know. That kid. Scare him. But not kill him.”

 He wants to believe her. But he knows the power of revenge. How loving something and someone so much can cloud your judgment. There was a time where he wanted what she did:  Farhad lying cold and dead in the street. But with the physical healing came some mental repair as well.  Revenge only dragged you down. Hardened you. Made you just as bad as the person who caused your harm.  You'd never be able to fully go on with your life and enjoy your future with that kind of baggage weighing you down.

 “I'm sorry,”  she's staring out the window as she talks; voice low, eyes glassy. No doubt filled with her own memories of the last time they'd been there. “I know you're pissed.”

He snorts. “You think just a little bit?”

 “I know this isn't where you want to be.  In Dhaka. Back on this bridge.”

 “You really think that that's what I'm upset about? That I had to come back here?” he shakes his head incredulously, and placing his elbow on the window ledge, places the side of his head in his palm and closes his eyes. His head feels as if will explode. So many emotions. All of them too powerful and all consuming. And the memories...come back with the force of a tsunami. “How can you know so well one minute and then know fuck all the next?”

 She shifts uncomfortably beside him, knee brushing up against his,  her hands nervously twisting at the strap on her bag.

 He cracks open an eye and casts a sidelong glance at her. This woman that he was wildly and crazily head over heels for. Who had walked into his life and filled the enormous hole inside of him in the way no amount of drugs, pills, and self loathing could ever do.  Who had so willingly and unselfishly given up her life in order to improve his.  Who'd give him a child. Two now, if you considered the one currently growing inside of her.  He lays a hand on her thigh; stilling the anxious twitches. Then closes his eyes once more.

 “That's not why I'm pissed,” he says. “I'm not pissed I had to come here. I'm pissed that you did what you did. You were the one that was worried about me sneaking off. I never thought you'd be the one doing it. All you had to do was tell me. I would have given you a hard time about it, but I would have come here with you. But you didn't give me that chance, did you.”

 “I thought it would easier just to do it on my own,” she confesses. “I didn't want to put this on you.”

 “You're not putting anything on me. The second we put rings on each other's fingers, we said we'd bear the weight of each other's burdens.  That we wouldn't have to deal with things alone. And the fact you just went ahead and left...”

 “I'm sorry,”  he can hear the tears in her voice. Can see the image in his head: those dark eyes filling to the brim, the way her lower lip always trembles. Even when she's crying she's beautiful.

 “And you just didn't leave me. You left the baby.  My  baby. And she needs her mother. What if you'd never come home? She'd spent the rest of her life wondering about you and I'd spent the rest of my life trying to make sure she never forgets you. And what about the other baby? The one that's inside of right now.  Did you even stop to think about them? What could have happened? Not just to you but that baby too? You didn't make these kids on your own. They're mine too. You're not the only one that loves them and would die for them.”

 “I know...” her voice cracks, and he can feel her hand as it settles on top of his.  And he laces their fingers together, squeezing tightly.  “I know you hate right now.”

 “I could never hate you. Ever. There's times where you piss me off and I don't like you very much. But I could never hate you. I love you too much. With everything I am. With everything I have.”

 She raises their hands to her lips and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I love you. I don't think you'll ever realize how much. And I am sorry. I didn't do this to hurt you. Or make you mad. I did it so that I could finally move on. Because it's been so hard...so fucking hard.”

 She cries in earnest now, and he opens his eyes and reaches across the car; a hand on the back of her head as he pulls her into him. Her face tucking into the hallow of his throat. His face in her hair as he takes in the scent in that lingers on those dark tresses.

 “It's time to go,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple.

 “Tell me it's going to be okay.”

 “It's going to be okay,” he promises, and places a kiss to her forehead.  “Trust me.”

 “I do,” she assures him and then gives her bravest smile as she pushes his hair off his forehead. “I'd sort of miss you if you weren't around.”

 “I'd sort of miss you too. Even if you do  do stupid shit sometimes.”

 She kisses him. Her lips soft and warm against his.  Then pulls away and opening the car door, slings her bag over her shoulder and steps out.

 All he can do is sit there and watch her walk away.

[creaturesofazeroth]

10th of September, Alastairian’s Journal

Yesterday was a busy day. Too busy to write even, there were so many things happening!

It started out simple enough. I woke up on the ship, as usual, by the hustle and bustle of the crew getting ready to sail the last way to our destination. I don’t usually sail with orcs, or at all for that matter, so the ruckus simply got too much to sleep through. The day was… Eventless, to say the least. I ended up staying in my hammock for most of the day, re-reading my book. Not that there is a lot to read. Two meager entries, my mentor’s, Marinda, and her life’s story, and my own. Luckily, Marinda lived a very interesting Life, so that alone left me plenty to read.

We made land sometime in the evening, just Before sundown, and i was one of the first ones off the ship. I Think the captain was just as happy to let me go, honestly. Regardless of my pay, he didn’t seem to enjoy having passengers who couldn’t work the ship alongside the crew. I would have helped, of course, if i’d known how to! But in the end i settled for simple not being in the way. 

Booty Bay is… A colourful Place, there is no doubt about that. It’s also a very full of smells and sounds, both pleasant and less so. Mostly less so. But i didn’t let that deter me! I made for the local tavern, a cozy, if a bit rowdy a Place called the Salty Sailor Tavern. I decided to order a cider and have a seat, and i saw plenty of people that were interesting in one way or Another! I Think i saw a real kul tiran tidesage!

But in the end i didn’t even have to approach anyone to find a new story. As i was looking around, i happened to notice someone i first thought to be a troll, then a fellow sin’dorei. Turns out he was a bit of both! I don’t Think he liked me looking at him, but he did end up approaching me! He seemed a bit sour, but after a while he opened up and told me his story. 

His name is Arr’va, and he’s a halfblood. His mother was a sea witch of the Bloodscalp tribe, and his father was an elf. He didn’t know his father, and said his mother ate the poor man. I’ve yet to determine wether or not he was actually serious. He also introduced me to a friend of his. An actual Ren’dorei! I was worried at first, but Relwynn seems nice enough! 

There are so many things i want to talk about but i’m running out of paper. We left the tavern after a pair of goblins found us worthy of their attention. We Went outside, and Relwynn told me a Little about himself. He offered me a room too, so i wouldn’t have to risk the tavern rooms. I was a bit hesitant but i accepted his offer, and ended up sharing the guest bedroom with Arr’va. But Before that, Relwynn asked me to fetch him a drink. I did, seeing as… Well, he didn’t have to tell me about him, i thought it was just fair. I ended up being surrounded by the two goblins on my way out though!  They said they’d help me fix my problems, and Before  knew it they’d pushed me into giving them coins and teleported me outside the tavern. ON THE UPPER FLOOR!

The following hour or so was a mess. We all Went to the tavern, the goblins came back, there was a fight, and i Think Arr’va offered to be my bodyguard. I was too tired to say no, and to be honest i Think i’ll need the help when we leave. I can’t fight on my own after all. 

I Think i ended up sleeping funnily though. I got the worst headache, and i’ve been feeling light-headed all morning. It should pass soon though, such things never did last very long. I can feel the smell of breakfast being cooked, so i figure i should get ready for the day ahead! 

[crocobae]

Winds of Change and Winds of Stagnance

New sights, new sounds, new place… new friends? It had just been him and his trainer for as long as he’d known… It’s going to take some time to get used to this.

i. Frey is so bored.

New Bark Town may have been the “Winds of a New Beginning,” but to Frey right now it seemed more like the “Winds of Stagnance and Boredom.” He slumped down onto his belly, hitting his jaw on the panels of wooden floor. Half lidded eyes stared uninterested out at the mostly empty room where he and his trainer were staying, boarding with some other nerdy looking old farts in lab coats. His food stash remained mostly empty as well, having almost nothing better to do alone in this room while his trainer got acquainted with some people Frey couldn’t care less about.

Things should have been more exciting! Here he was, freshly evolved and ready to adventure and explore with his friends! They were traveling, from city to city, where there was always something new to see and experience. The hustle and bustle, bright yellow shine of Goldenrod, or the cool, muted and somewhat eerie airs of Violet. Frey wanted to see it all!

He’d gotten a taste of the wandering lifestyle, and it was enough to get him addicted. Just him and his friends, on foot, exploring the world as their hearts desired. Vibrant light and crisp scents and fresh tastes. Splashing in the cold waters of rivers and lakes and ponds he’d never stepped foot in before. Getting bigger and stronger with the passing of days as they grew in both size and experience. Meeting and sharing stories around campfires with new friends who agreed to travel with them (a Murkrow, whom the trainer nicknamed Renard).

And now they were stuck here, in one place again, legs up and roots ingrained and stopped.

And he was so BORED.

One of his hands gripped and pinched his mystic water necklace. His foot tapped impatiently, the thumping echoing loudly through the empty room. Barren white walls surrounded him in a room with a small bed, a modest wardrobe, and a white desk where his trainer’s belongings lay haphazardly. Rolling onto his side, he thrashed his arms and legs in the air, trying desperately to expend some of the newfound energy coursing through his bigger body.

What was so interesting about a bunch of towering fans and some trees? They had much more colourful, interesting trees of crimson and vermillion and gold surrounding their home in Ecruteak. Spicy, comforting scents wafted in the air and dark cobblestone roads with history and style oozed through every inch.

Here, everywhere was just… green.

He cried out to no one in particular, rolling on the ground and idly clapping his hands on the floor, continuing to tap. His gaze turned to the only saving grace of the room he lay in, a glass sliding door with a simple view of a fenced in yard. White picket fences obstructed what he could see of the outside world, further making him feel trapped.

Admittedly, he hadn’t had much of a chance to explore with his friends around here. They’d gone straight to this place, whatever it was, cold and clean and otherwise uninteresting to his young, excitable eyes.

…

Renard had snuck out earlier… why couldn’t he? He flinched at the excuse he had given to the Murkrow who’d left earlier, stammering that their trainer might return soon and get worried. Renard had scoffed, flapped her wings, slid the door open, and slipped out. “You can wait here like a good, boring boy, and I’ll be out there making connections and having fun,” she had sneered, before sliding the door shut behind her with her beak.

He grumped, crossing his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. He could be back any minute… Frey glanced down the open doorway, down the hall, hearing nothing but distant chattering.

And then he slid open the sliding glass door. He stepped through cautiously, as if he would be caught in the spotlight, scolded, and reprimanded; a frequent event when he was younger.

Well, it was certainly bright around here? Nowhere near as exciting as Goldenrod, or cool as Violet. He left the door open behind him, slowly sneaking forward. He was still unused to his new form, a size and weight to everything he did now still threw him off balance. He looked downward, the rough, stony feel of the bricks beneath his feet, pausing tenderly and briefly before the divide into greenery.

Soft, crisp grass crumpled beneath his lumbering, uneasy footsteps as he stared up and around him. A soft, steady breeze staved off the beaming sunshine, cooling his uncomfortable skin. Ecruteak City may not have had as much water around, but it also tended to be cooler with the abundance of trees surrounding and permeating the area.

Rapidly, he turned his head, wary eyes watching for anyone who could bust him. His hands reached up to his chest, fiddling with his necklace. Seeing none in his scan, he let out a big breath, and pranced forward. Just like that, he was out and free. Stumbling forward and along the white fence (he tripped a few times over his big feet, thank goodness no one had seen), he eventually found a gate in the fence, where he could easily reach the latch. He slipped through, onto the main pathway.

He stopped short in his tracks, looking around once more for good measure for anyone who might stop and talk him out of his new adventure. A few Ledyba flying overhead, giving wide berth to the spinning blades of those wind towers with which he was so unfamiliar. A Marill across the street running around in circles and hollering, chasing its own tail. A Venusaur sunbathing in the neighbour’s yard, who locked eyes with him, raised a vine and… seemed to laugh ominously?

He shook his head. Of course not.

Breaking eye contact, he chose a random direction and headed off on his own. He’d find his own adventure! Laughing uproariously, his footsteps were still uneasy as he hopped and lumbered onward, sparing only a few glances back toward the ugly, unremarkable, square white building where he and his friends were staying.

Then he darted forward, skipping along with the hopes of finding something fun and new to experience.

~~~

Level 18 Jolly Nature Likes to thrash about

[lalast0ne]

A Blacksoul Tale

A story written by Layla & Wilder

On a snowy night, the train left the station.....destination Canada. The steady rock and roll motion on the tracks had the passengers fast asleep through the night. The conductor dozed, waking to a sea of fog and the realization he was off course, on another set of tracks heading straight into the middle of nowhere.  

At the far back of the train, in the very last car, a couple in distress were currently non the wiser that the train was off course. Sleep eludes them; the man paces within the confines of the narrow aisle while the woman concentrates on her breathing, panting as she’d been taught. Her water had broken a little over an hour ago but they currently can’t go anywhere. The train was holding them hostage, unknowingly.  

Each mile passed by at a painstakingly slow speed. Each rock on the tracks had her rolling in pain. She looked out the window and did a double take, panic taking hold on her as her surroundings finally registered. She’d made this trip enough times to know that the train was not on its usual route.....that this train was not going to Canada.

Feeling helpless and unable to stand seeing his wife in so much pain, the husband steps away to find help of any kind. Making his way through the cars, he passes two or maybe three people, who somehow manage to remain asleep, with the sole goal of making his way to the conductor. He needed the train to stop and he needed help; they needed help. 

One way or another his wife needed to get off this train because, three weeks ahead of schedule, the baby was coming. He growled as he heard her screams of pain and looked back over his shoulder to see her rise from her seat and begin pacing the aisle that he himself had been walking only moments ago.

At 21 years of age, this was not how Margot Carson envisioned she’d welcome her first, and definitely only, child into the world.  The notion of a quick and painless birth were well and truly out of the window. Her fingers turned white as she held onto the head rest of the seats either side of her for support, she gritted her teeth and groaned as another intense pain gripped her stomach. No one had warned her that the pain would be this unbearable and in this moment she couldn’t imagine why any woman would do this more than once. 

Taking a deep breath she peeled her eyes opened and watched as her husband approached; no conductor in tow and no miracle doctor traipsing behind him who’d be able to help. His shoulders were up around his ears and panic written all over his face. He had no clue how to help her, why should he? He’d never experienced this before either, but he’s continued asking her what he could do to help was becoming frustrating. 

He reached her with an apologetic look, unable to offer any words of comfort or reassurance that help was on the way. Help wasn’t coming. Instead he brushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek affectionately. They’d get thru this together, like any team of husband and wife should. Taking her hand as another contraction began to build, he rubbed the base of her back whispering words of encouragement and love. 

The train began to pick up speed once more, which surely was a good thing, the thick cloud of fog giving way to snow. It wasn’t uncommon this time of year for snow to be falling, it was winter after all.

Margot looked out the carriage window then turned to smile at her husband. A moments peace settled between them. She’d always loved the snow and how beautiful it had the ability to make the ugliest landscape look ... and just as she was about to remind Dwayne of that, chaos ensued. 

The howling screech of the brakes along the snowy rails broke the calm that had momentarily descended between the young married couple. Their worlds were turned on their sides, quite literally, along with the train, finally bringing their journey to a stop. Safety now came in surviving outside the confines of the car. In the snow. On this winter night. 

Dwayne scrambled to help Margot, the blood dripping down the side of his face from the gash above his eyebrow. Margot in even more pain and not just from the baby, began to crawl towards her husband, crying out every time she put pressure on her right knee. Once reconnected, both began to crawl towards the freezing air to freedom. Unconcerned with anyone other than themselves right now and their baby. 

The cold air entered their lungs and froze Dwight and Margot bone deep. Adrenaline couldn’t even stop their bodies from shaking. No one else exited the train. They were alone.....two soon to become three. The snow their blanket. Cold the enemy. Water moved beside them, slow like molasses. Almost frozen. 

Margot’s contractions were rolling fast. Heart rates escalating. In the distance, the sky was coming to life. Black standing back as shades of yellow and pink took center stage. The realization they were in the middle of nowhere hit as hard as the train crashed. Fast and without warning. 

Like a storm passing overhead, winds picked up, snow blurring their vision. Margot gripping Dwight, her lifeline in this battle. Metal gleams in the air, a slice through the air. Again and again. The bleak color of winter, glows red like Christmas. 

The only noise that breaks free is a babies cry. A baby born, a new life beginning as two were cut short. Life flowing through the babies heart. Alone on the rivers edge.

She turns the pages of the photo album, her fingers tracing the faces of those people in the pictures that are protected by the clear plastic. Her family. Not her blood family; she’d never met those, but the family who had taken her into their home when she was a baby, who’d raised her like their other children and who loved her like she was one of their own. 

As the years had passed, her sisters and brothers had moved away. Each one creating their own families, while she remained in the family home. Her adoptive parents had long since passed away and without them there, visits from her siblings became few and far between until they’d become non existent.  

The end of the year always had her looking at pictures, reminiscing and reflecting on her life; life back then when she’d been young and life now. Reflecting on how much had changed in her lifetime .. how much the town had changed in her lifetime. 

The what if’s dance around in her head until she turns the page and comes face to face with her biggest regret. Even though the picture is close to 50 years old, he still has the ability to cause the butterflies in her stomach to take flight. The love of her life who she let walk away. All because she was too stubborn to leave the only place she’d ever known. She’d had ambitions and dreams, all of which revolved around this town. He’d had bigger dreams that had taken him to the city. He’d asked her repeatedly, actually begged her, to go with him. To marry her, to start the family they’d talked about so often, but she couldn’t do it and he’d gone anyway. He’d written to her a few times, given his address and asked her to visit. Only when the letters had dried up did she made the decision to go. She’d packed an overnight back, pocketed her savings and went to him, to her love, to see what all the fuss of the big city was about, to maybe even see if she could life there. 

The journey had been quicker than she expected. The hustle and bustle had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced and after asking a few people for directions she found her destination. She’d waited in the coffee shop across from his apartment, waiting for him to come home so she could surprise him. Watching all the glamorous city woman tottering down the street in their high heels had passed the time and suddenly she wanted to be those women. She wanted to be a part of this life. Of his life. As her thoughts turned to him, as if by magic, he appeared. Stood on the bottom step of his given address, a huge smile on his face. She quickly began to gather her belongings then stopped as he waved at someone. Turning he head in the direction he waved she saw some waving back. Someone glamorous, in a pristine white skirt suit who threw her arms around him excitedly. Frozen to the spot, she could only watch as her one and only disappeared inside with his new love. 

She closed the album and her eyes all at once, a tear sliding down her cheek. Her heart had shattered that day in to a thousand pieces and she’d never let anyone close enough to put the pieces back together. 

Solitude. Loss. Heartbreak. 

Happiness. Love. Laughter.

A town that fell in love with her equally as she fell in love with it. Through her eyes, she had seen changes and things that remained the same. The town falling and thriving. There was no shuffling through this town. You either stayed or left. It infiltrated your soul as it did hers. She may walk the streets alone but she knew its secrets. She’d seen the town change hands through her life, from grandfather to father, then finally a changing of the guard occurred several years ago, to son. A man in black walked her same streets, learning the secrets she alone held. Two old souls, lives years apart but one goal between them.....BlackSoul.

No sides were ever taken, just a mutual understanding silently formed. She knew his secrets just like he knew hers. He knew she was the mistress of the town. Adopted as a baby and brought in as one of their own. Hidden in plain view.

The dark of night had Delores up and pacing her living room. Something was wrong and she felt it all the way to her bones. Her thoughts pulled her to leave the safety of her house. To once again walk the familiar streets. But this time, she veered left. Away from her streets. 

Winter had not be cruel and shown her wrath yet. The river calm and tranquil as the dark faded into evil shades of red. A warning sign. 

Delores turned her back to the town she called home. Arms stretched out, summoning the unknown. A familiar blade slices the air. Only one cry breaks the silence. Red coating his hand. 

77 years passed from birth to death. A circle closed along the banks of the river, her life ending.  Emerging from the shadows, I check for her pulse and slide the blade into my boot. Leaving the river and woods to cover my tracks and death. A mistresses lost breath extinguished.

[riding-alpacas]

Walking on a volcano

Making it home safe and sound I'm now sitting in mandatory self-quarantine for another 9 days. It took me a while to digest everything but currently I'm just grateful that I made it back and optimistic that we'll all tackle this situation together.

I don't have too much to do and can't go anywhere, so I'll just keep writing. There are a few more things I wanted to write about in this blog before I put down the virtual pen for an unknown period of time. One of these things is my last adventure I experienced before I packed up: A hike to the summit of an active volcano.

The little town of Pucón ended up on my radar for only one reason: You can climb 2,860 metres high Volcán Villarrica which has an active lava lake within its crater. When I arrived in town I immediately realised that I'd hate everything else about this place. It was another extremely touristy location and seemingly the centre for all adventure travellers who haven't done any of the usual shit (skydiving, rafting, canyoning etc.) in their life yet. My hostel was pretty awesome though: It offered private rooms in form of little hobbit houses! Cheesy, I know, but I always wanted to stay in one of those, so I took that opportunity.

A hobbit in Chile

The climb to the volcano can only be done with a guide unless you can prove that you have all the required gear and enough experience to tackle it on your own. They offered tours in the hostel but given that it was shoulder season I was hoping to find a group with only very few people.

During my stint in San Martín I accidentally bumped into Audrey - one of the girls that I spent some time with in Bariloche. We decided to move on together given that she had similar plans for Pucón. We went to a few independent travel agencies in a quest to find one that was affordable, reputable and not too busy. There weren't too many differences between all of them, likely due to the strict regulations that are in place for this kind of activity. Mawida Adventures offered us to do the tour even if it'd just be the two of us, so we chose them and booked us in for the next day.

The next day my alarm went off at 5:30 in the morning and I made my way to the meeting point. Luckily it was just Audrey, myself and our guide Ermin - nobody else signed up the day before. We packed up our bags and one hour later were the first ones at the lift. The real adventure basically started after a chairlift brought us up to 1,700 metres. From there it was a 45 minute walk through some grayish rocks until we got to the start of a glacier that covers the mountain. Crampons on and now it was time to zigzag through the ice. When we started our hike we were wondering why we had to wear helmets but it became pretty obvious now: The wind was constantly pushing little rocks from the top down the glacier. Even though they were the fluffy kind of volcanic rocks, they were pretty fast and sharp so you really don't want one of these falling on your bare head.

We were lucky with the weather

Great views from the start

Zig zag

The glacier wasn't as nice as Perito Moreno. It was covered in fine, black particles and there was no meltwater around. Apparently it goes straight under the ice. We still stopped at some impressive crevices though and had some little breaks in between to admire the view behind us. Towards the end the trail became extremely steep and it was more challenging than I thought.

Don't wanna fall into this one

Quite steep

Close to the summit the ice disappeared and we were walking through a rocky environment again. Audrey and I are both quite fast walkers so we were the first ones who made it to the top that day - and what a rewarding walk it was. The views were absolutely spectacular! But looking into the crater itself was also quite astounding. Rust-coloured rocks to the left, sulfur-coloured rocks to the right. Loud roaring from within the crater, gases  hissing out of it and what are these funnily structured rocks over here? Oh right, it's the ice from the glacier. It was an interesting world up there with lots of strange shapes to discover at every corner. At one point I decided to put on my gas mask as the wind started to push the smell right towards us. We admired the view - which included a feminist flag that a female guide positioned there a couple of days earlier on International Women's Day - and after 15 minutes we had to make our way down again.

No lava today

Did I mention the views?

This was an adventure in itself. When we climbed up we could already see some pre-grooved chutes. We were about to use them right now. Both of us were carrying around a little piece of plastic with us. It was now time to get them out and sled down the glacier! I was looking forward to this but it actually turned out to be a bit shit. Because of us walking up so fast, most of the slides were still very icy. I had a lot of trouble breaking with my ice axe and ended up crashing into some of these fluffy rocks halfway through the slide. I bruised my fingers and lost my ice axe but fortunately was still able to stop. The second part was a bit more slushy, so breaking actually worked but I have to say that I didn't enjoy this activity as much as I thought I would. I much more enjoyed the final section of the descent. It was very sandy and we could basically run down sliding our feet through the super fine ground.

Audrey getting ready to toboggan

Back in Pucón we were greeted with some drinks, grapes and cheese which was a nice touch. It was a good opportunity to catch up with our awesome guide Ermin who told us a lot of nice stories about the mountain, the town and how he ended up doing this kind of work. As a side note: Don't ever do a rafting tour when you're in Pucón. Apparently the guides are extremely underpaid.

For the following days I tried to find something that would bring me away from all the noise in the town. My first try was a little overnight kayak trip on one of the surrounding rivers. I quite enjoyed the kayak thing I did in El Bolson but unfortunately they didn't have enough people to do it.

My second option was to rent a car and drive 2 hours up to Conguillío National Park and do some hikes. I already had an eye on rental cars a few days before I arrived in Pucón. Apparently Hertz had a branch in town and when I checked, they always had cars available. The day I was finally ready to book, they didn't have any anymore. I thought this would be because it was quite short-notice now, so I decided to go to the branch directly and just ask. It turned out that the branch actually doesn't exist. Standing in front of the address I found a... craft shop. When I did a bit more research I noticed that I wasn't alone read some fascinating stories. Some people actually booked a car online, went to the non-existent branch and were later fined by Hertz for not picking up their vehicle. It's a mystery to me how something like this can happen to such a well-known global brand!

I wasn't ready to give up just yet and found another car rental in town. But when I checked out their fleet I only found some very old and small Suzukis - highly doubting they'd make it through 100 kilometres of gravel. That was the point when I gave up on option number two and decided to just head up to Santiago to sit down and think about what I'd do next.

The volcano wasn't the last and only activity I did in Pucón though. On my last day, Audrey and I decided to head to El Cañi, a little conservation area where you could find the infamous monkey puzzle trees that grow in the area. The seeds from these trees are sold everywhere in the streets of Pucón and unfortunately I missed to try them.

We did a little hike that I didn't have any expectations about and it turned out to be quite nice. After a super steep and slippery ascent over an old logging road we found ourselves in a beautiful lush forest, surrounded by a surprising amount of bamboo. Towards the end we also finally saw heaps of monkey puzzle trees and walked a little circuit that led us to seven different lagoons. It felt a bit like an enchanted forest - also because we got lost once, ran into some stinging bush and became very confused by the marks more than once. But we also met two cute puppies at one of the lagoons which made up for everything.

Monkey puzzle trees

More of them

Puppy!

I wasn't super keen on this walk but I'm thankful that Audrey convinced me to do it. It was a great way to escape the hustle and bustle and be out there in the quiet nature for a day.

You all know what happened then after I took the bus to Santiago. On the first day I was still optimistic and explored the city a tiny bit. My hostel was very close to the centre of the civil protests and I actually experienced these a little bit because my first night was on a Friday - the day the protests take place. The whole evening there was a lot of noise outside with firecrackers going off everywhere. We even had a pepper spray grenade being thrown into the yard of my hostel. Quite intense but I don’t think I was in danger at any time.

Police getting ready

I don't think they like their government very much

However, I mainly wanted to use the time to research what I’d do next, but instead I researched COVID-19 and made the very spontaneous decision to abort my trip. A couple of days later, Chile decided to close all their borders and the whole of South America is in a state of emergency now. I have heard a lot of stories from travellers who decided to stay and are now being kicked out of their hostels and moved around by the police. Sounds like I made the right decision.

In the next few days I'll write a few more articles about some other random things. Hopefully one day I can continue travelling through South America and bring this blog back to life.