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comicwritesstuff · 7 months ago

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okay this is so incredibly specific so please feel free to ignore BUT i’ve been wanting to read a fic for ages where the reader is Chase’s childhood best friend from Australia and she moves to New Jersey for a fresh start. She’s staying with Chase while she gets settled, and one day she comes to visit him at lunch at the hospital, where she ends up meeting House and he’s… intrigued by her 👀 either romantic or smut would be so very cool :^D <33 💐

YES. I LOVE THIS PROMPT IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT IM FINISHED!!!

Gregory House x Fem!Chases bsf!Reader

Warnings: None really, just cussing and tooth rotting fluff >:) 3k+ words.

Chase's POV:

“Well I was just wondering if we could go out sometime, I think you're really-” My attention shifted as y/n's call lit up my phone, interrupting the conversation. It was a more pressing matter than pursuing a one-night stand.

“Excuse me for a moment.” I say walking away, the woman having an annoyed look on her face.

I answer the phone.

“Hello, y/n? Whats up”

“Chase! Long time no talk haha.”

“You called me yesterday.”

“Learn to take a joke, anyways, I have some exciting news for you.”

“I’m moving to New Jersey!!”

“Wait what? Really?”

“Yeah, I kinda forgot to tell you and i'm actually at the airport right now, so I hope you aren't busy tomorrow so you can pick me up.”

“Wow, um alright, yeah I can pick you up, do you have a place to stay?"

“Um…no…” I sigh, “Just stay at mine for now.”

“Don't even with the sigh i’ve known you my whole life you can put the nightly hookups on hold for your best friend.”

I smirk and shake my head, “Yeah yeah, I’ll see ya tomorrow y/n”

Y/N’s POV:

I smile as I hang up with Chase, grabbing my luggage and pulling it along the airport. Ahh yes, crying babies, rushed parents, annoying couples and that one insanely attractive person you see for a split second, I love the airport.

Glancing at my ticket I realize I might have to hurry to make it to the gate, speed walking I see a text from chase, “Have a safe flight.” Let's hope so.

Time skip (to lazy to write all the details about fucking airports)

Relaxing on a 21-hour flight proved challenging, especially with a toddler nearby. It was unclear whether the toddler would be a source of annoyance or just be tolerable. The flight just started. So to entertain myself I decide to do some digging about Chase's job, he brags about it all the time and the infamous Dr Gregory House. To be honest I thought Chase was gay for a little while with how much he talks about him. Still speculating.

The plane lifts off and I start my look, at first just looking up Gregory House, a surprising amount of things show up. An article titled, “Gregory House, Talented Doctor? Or a lying Narcissist?” Oh well that's a good first impression.

Scrolling down I see another article, “The world's greatest doctor, and his deepest secrets”

Now that's enticing. I click on it only to find out his deepest secrets, including using 3 in one shampoo and how his leg got hurt. I guess people hardly know anything about him. I click on the photos of him, there's only a couple, most of them blurry but to be honest he's pretty good looking from the photos I can see. I’d honestly be gay for him if I was Chase.

The toddler next to me starts giggling, I glance at her and notice her staring at a picture of House. She's kicking her feet too. That's so relatable.

For the rest of the flight I find some stuff about this guy named Taub, who somehow also figured out that he cheated on his wife which is why he had to quit. How did I find that out? I took a coding class in 8th grade. (I got lucky)

Lisa Cuddy the Dean of Medicine, unfortunately only good stuff about her, boring.

Remy Hadley, oddly, can't find anything on her.

Eric Foreman, his brothers in jail, fun.

And the others are just as boring. For the remainder of the flight, the toddler proved surprisingly chill. I passed the time by binge-watching random movies I had downloaded earlier

*Another time skip to plane landing*

Finally, 21 hours on a fucking plane is horrible.

I check my phone after I take it off airplane mode, seeing a text from chase a couple minutes ago.

“I’m at the airport, is your flight done?”

“Yep, wya.”

“I’m parked in the front.”

“That's specific”

“There's no other front dumbass”

I roll my eyes at his text, and get off the plane as soon as I can. I walk out and see Chase standing outside his car waiting for me. His eyes light up as he spots me, and a grin spreads across his face. Unable to resist, I rush forward and envelop him in a bear hug.

“Man you’re a lot uglier in person”

I say jokingly, smirking.

“Oh shut up”

We climbed into his car, and he drove us back to his apartment. When we arrive he helps get my crap into the house, before he gets a call saying he had to head to work.

Eventually a week or two passes, I've gotten more comfortable in his apartment, applied for a bunch of jobs, and looked for places to stay so I’m not invading his “man” space anymore. Unfortunately there aren't a lot of options, and no jobs have replied to my applications, which is weird since im overqualified, it's almost like they aren’t even getting my applications in the first place.

I’m doing the dishes when I get a text from Chase.

“Hey, I left my wallet on the counter, so I don’t have money for food, could ya bring it for me?”

“Nah”

“See you soon”

I breathe out a laugh and grab his wallet, putting a coat on then driving to the hospital.

When I get there I walk in, looking around before I call Chase, “Where do I go this place is huge” I can hear talking in the background, actually more like arguing. “Uhm just wait at the entrance i’ll be right there.” He says in a whisper.

He hangs up so I just stand there awkwardly waiting, that was a weird ass phone call. To be fair Chase is a weird ass guy with weird ass coworkers so what do I expect at this point.

Before I see Chase I see Dr Gregory House, limping quickly towards me. And damn he’s even hotter in person than the pictures I saw of him.

“Hey, no time to explain, you need to come with me.” He grabs my arm dragging me into the elevator. Before it closes I see Chase come out of the stairway, he sprints towards the elevator but it closes. I hear him trying to say something, but it's muffled and I can’t understand it. Wait why the fuck did I even follow House?

“You're real compliant, you’d make a great hooker.”

I turn around and side eye him.

“Thanks, so would you.” I say giving a fake smile.

“Speaking of compliant, why did you drag me away from Chase? What's going on?’’

“I made a bet with Chase.”

“That's really specific and helpful thanks”

“Oh yeah no problem”

Sarcastic asshole.

“If you don’t tell me, I'll stop following you and go with Chase.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine, Mom! The bet is that I can convince you to work as my assistant here.”

“Really? That's it? I need a job. Why would Chase even bet against that?”

“He thinks you’ll fall in love with me so he doesn’t want that to happen, in his words, “She has a thing for homeless looking, narcissistic assholes with beards.” So he’s trying to prevent it, and he’s sure he can.”

Damn- I feel so called out. I stay silent before nodding.

“Well to be honest he isn’t wrong.”

I see House smirk before we get out of the elevator, he hobbles and leads me to his office, locking the door then having me sit down.

As I sit down in front of his desk, he grabs a ball and starts throwing it against the wall, while sitting down.

“So are you gonna interview me or something?”

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for Chase to get back up here so he can watch me interview you.”

He really is an asshole…it's kinda hot though.

“Fair enough.”

We wait a bit before Chase comes jogging up to the door, out of breath, he’s clearly been running plenty. He starts banging on the glass door that House previously locked.

“House!! Y/N! Let me in! This isn’t fair!” He exclaims, House is grinning when he leans over his desk, crossing his arms.

“Okay! Let’s start this interview now.”

“Y/n! You traitor!”

Did I abandon my childhood best friend for some disabled doctor? No, I did it for the job. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

Turning my attention back to House instead of the Australian cry baby outside the door, he asks me, “First question, do you want the job of being my assistant?”

“Obviously”

“Great! You have the job!”

I mean, easy enough. I smile and shake my head. This hospital really has some unique people.

House shakes my hand, grinning as Chase is sitting on the floor defeated outside.

As the days turned into weeks at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, I got to know everyone. Cuddy had to actually approve of me working as House’s assistant first, but once she saw a…normal enough individual, she welcomed me into the environment.

Getting to know House better, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t really expected. The bet between House and Chase, Chase thinking I would fall for House, I took it as a joke, until that joke turned more into reality.

Despite House being a narcissistic piece of shit, there were small moments that I saw, or shared with him that made me fall for him. Ones where he seemed happy, or just easy to be around. At work he's serious but when Wilson dragged him out to bars, or other social environments, he could actually be fun. And though him being a dick is undeniably attractive sometimes, when he was…”himself” that's how I began to fall for him.

One day, after an especially tough day for the team, and being forced to go break into houses and get coffee and food, I found myself alone with House in his office. The rest of the team had left, leaving us in a rare moment alone with each other. As I glanced up from the medical chart of the most recent patient, I caught House’s gaze lingering on me, his blue eyes intense and unreadable.

“Something on your mind, House?” I asked, attempting to break the awkward silence between us.

He smirked, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease, “Oh just wondering why a catch like yourself doesn’t have a boyfriend, or husband?” He responds, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, a faint blush on my cheeks. House and I had gained an uncanny camaraderie, made from me running around doing everyone's paperwork, being the designated “you get to tell patients they are dying!!” person. And as you’d expect people didn’t respect me a lot, but if someone was blatantly mean to me, House would step in and destroy their self esteem in a second and walk away like it meant nothing. That's another thing that I think made me fall for him.

“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that a lot too.” I smile, placing the medical chart on his desk.

“Do you want a boyfriend? Or girlfriend, or a pet or something.” He quips, his eyes looking like they are reading me, studying my every movement and reaction to what he’s saying, it's flattering and uncomfortable at the same time.

“A boyfriend would be nice.” I say reassuringly, a laugh escaping me as I shake my head in amusement.

“Alright let's say *hypothetically* I asked you out. *hypothetically* what would your response be?”

Raising an eyebrow I ask, “Are you trying to go on a date with me?”

“I said hypothetically, now answer the question.”

A smirk plays on my lips as I roll my eyes in a mock annoyance.

“Well.” I say, “Hypothetically, I would say yes.”

“Great, meet me for dinner at (some random fancy place idk u make up a name i'm too lazy to), wear something cute.”

With that, he sauntered out of the office, leaving me to think about what just happened. Glancing at the clock, I realized I had just enough time to get ready for our “hypothetical date.”

The anticipation bubbled within me, standing outside (IDK A RESTAURANT NAME IT), waiting for House to arrive. My heart raced with nervous excitement, unsure what to expect from a…unique…guy like House. I had used all the time I had to work on my outfit, settling for a simple dress (or suit, or just anything you're comfy in :) ).

As I scanned the busy street, searching for any sign of House, I heard the obnoxiously loud sound of a motorcycle approaching. House rode in, parking his bike before getting off and walking (limping) towards me. My breath caught in my throat as I saw him, he looked impossibly handsome, in a tailored suit that made his rugged charm come out, good god he looked fine.

“Y/n,” he greeted with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine affection. “That outfit makes your ass look nice.”

I scoff playfully, hitting his arm. “So much for acting like a gentleman, at least you look like one.”

He chuckled, offering me his arm in a more gentlemanly gesture. “Yeah yeah, shall we?”

With a nod, I looped my arm through his, savoring the warmth of his touch as we mad our way into the restaurant. The ambiance was elegant and inviting, with a soft candlelight casting a warm glow over the decor.

As we were seated at a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. I’m finally going out with House, damn Chase was totally right.

Throughout the evening, our conversation flowed surprisingly easily between us. I had half expected him to be rude or stuck up, but he seemed actually interested in me, in my life. He was asking questions, laughing and joking with me. Sharing stories of his own, and treating me like an actual human. Honestly it was scaring me a bit, but it was making me fall harder for him.

House raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. ‘So, tell my Y/N. What’s the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?”

I laughed, shaking my head as I thought about the memory. “Well, there was this one time in college-”

“Let me guess,” House interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips. “It involved copious amounts of alcohol and very questionable decisions?”

I chuckle and nod in agreement. “You could say that. Long story short, I ended up streaking through the campus fountain at three in the morning. I'm pretty sure Chase might still have a video of it still.”

House raises an eyebrow, an amused laugh coming from him. “I wish I could say I was surprised, oh and also. I am finding that video.” He states, with a determined and mischievous grin.

The dinner continues and our connection just seems to get stronger, fueled by shared laughter, stories of shit Wilson and him did in college, things Chase and I did in highschool. With each passing moment, I found myself more and more under House’s spell, captivated by the complexity of himself, his character. His gaze, laughter, even his personality. Maybe it was the wine or something, but House was being nice, he had charisma, and was being attractive in general.

I don’t even realize that we’ve spent almost three hours in the restaurant just talking. I check my phone seeing that it's 9:30 already. We had got and paid the check awhile ago, but had stayed to talk longer. The restaurant closes at 10, and I felt a sudden pang of disappointment that our date was close to being over with. I didn’t want it to end, I was savoring this moment I was having, this seemingly perfect night.

When the waiter arrived to take our dessert order, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that the evening was drawing to a close. I wasn't ready for it to end—I wanted to savor every moment, to prolong the magic of our time together for as long as possible.

House notices my look of disappointment, “I’m aware how amazing I am, but if its up to me, this won’t be our last date.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks heating up as I blush. The butterflies in my stomach going absolutely insane.

So with a quick glance around the restaurant, I rose from my seat, House grabbed my hand as he led me towards the exit.

Stepping out into the cool night air, I felt a sense of happiness coursing through me. This was it, the beginning of a new relationship, a surprisingly healthy one so far.

As House’s hand tightened around mine, his touch sent sparks of electricity coursing through my veins. I knew now that maybe Chase knows me better than I know myself, in all fairness he predicted this, but right now I wasn’t afraid to admit this, to admit the undeniable attraction that I had towards Dr Gregory House.

His touch leaves mine, his hand pulling as we stand in front of the restaurant, close to each other, staring in each other's eyes. I glance at his lips before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, not sure if he expected it, but I pull back.

“Goodnight House. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that I walk away, to my car. When I get in my car, I look in the mirror, seeing House standing there with a lovestruck grin, one a child would have over some school crush. But it was cute, he was cute. And this was just the beginning of an annoyingly predicated relationship with a Vicodin addicted, asshole, who I suspect has a soft spot for me.

#gregory house #greg house #hatecrimes md #dr house #house md #gregory house x reader #greg house x reader #house md headcanons #james wilson #robert chase

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deepdarkdelights · 3 years ago

Text

Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 13.3k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Victorian Era, Time Travel, Misogyny, Jack The Ripper Murders, Forced Relationships, Forced Stripping and Dressing, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of dead bodies, Depictions of a corpse, Depictions of Wounds, Use of Drugs, Illicit Behaviors

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was.

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you.

A/N: Yay! It’s my first fic up after my two week break! So, this is pertaining to the Jack The Ripper Murders. For storytelling purposes, the timeline of events has been altered as well as details of the crimes. This story may not be for everyone so please read the warnings and take them into consideration before reading. Your mental health and wellbeing should always be your number one priority. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜

You could see your blurry reflection in the glass of the watch face you held in your hands.

You wiped away your tears with the heel of your palm violently as you sniffled tiredly. It had been a long day.

You were coming to terms with the fact that you were the last living member of your family, everyone else had died and moved on. Your mother had been young when she had you, but she was also young when she left you. Mere moments after you had been given life and were brought into the world, she had departed shortly after.

All you had ever known was the warm, comforting embrace of your grandfather. He had been more like your father your entire life and now he had left too. And all you had to remember him by was his old, Victorian house, some grainy photographs, and his pocket watch.

Today had been the day you learned of his last will and testament, and he had left you everything he had ever owned, especially that pocket watch. He had carried it everywhere with him for as long as you could remember, the long, silver chain neatly clipped to his vest at all times. He would often remove the watch from his pocket, swiping his thumb over the sealed lid fondly before flicking it open and tracking the time. He had never once been late to anything, something he bragged about often.

If you closed your eyes, you could visualize a scene that was not unfamiliar to you. You would be seated on the floor in a pile of pillows by the fireplace, the flames crackling and emanating a comforting warmth. The scent of black cherry tobacco wafting under your nose as your grandfather settled a thick book on his knees, pausing his reading aloud to puff at his tobacco pipe. You would giggle happily, wrapping your quilt tighter around your body as you watched him attempt to blow smoke rings. He would then slip his hand into his pocket and remove the watch, the chain clinking about as he flipped the watch open.

“It’s almost half past nine, don’t you have school tomorrow?” He would ask you, raising one eyebrow in questioning.

You, at ten years old, were familiar with what this meant, and you absolutely refused to head up those creaky stairs to bed when the two of you were in the middle of embarking on an adventure.

“Please, just one more chapter!” You would beg, eyes wide and watery with a pout settled on your lips.

“Alright,” He would concede after a long pause of faux thinking, “We do have time, don’t we?”

But that's where your grandfather was wrong. You didn’t have nearly enough time. You were twenty two when time came and took a hold of your grandfather and left you in the dust. That was the thing about time, it moved quickly and was unforgiving. Twenty two years was not enough, you were far too young when you said your last goodbyes.

Fuck, and now you were crying again.

You laughed humorlessly to yourself, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and wiping your tears away again. Crying would do you no good, he would want you to be happy. Death did not mean the end of a life, it meant the celebration of one, was something he had once told you.

It was time to start celebrating then.

You uncorked a bottle of wine, throwing the cork into the sink and having a staring match with a wine glass before you sighed and grabbed the bottle by its neck and left the room. You lit the fireplace before sitting down in your grandfather’s chair, throwing a leg up on his ottoman and taking a swig from the bottle. That made you feel a little better.

You tilted your head back before turning your face into the fabric, the scent of black cherry tobacco still clung to the chair. Your eyes burned again with unshed tears as you nestled your head closer to it, breathing the scent in deeply before taking a longer swig of wine from the bottle. You were sure you looked pathetic.

You groaned in irritation, the last thing you had wanted to do was throw yourself a pity party yet here you were, drowning your problems in wine like a young mom who is questioning why she didn’t use protection.

You sat up, grabbing the neck of the bottle and setting it on the side table before standing up on weak knees. It was too weird being in that room without him. You weren’t ready to move on so quickly. So, you killed the fire and shuffled up the creaky stairs and headed to your bedroom down the hall.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, you flung your clothes off into the corner of the room and grabbed an old, large, band shirt you tended to use as pajamas. After you slipped the raggedy fabric over your head you slid beneath your sheets, fisting the comforter in your hand and pulling it up to your nose.

You could see the silver of the watch glinting under the moonlight on your night stand. Without much thought you reached across your bed and grabbed it, pulling it under the blanket with you. You twirled the delicate chain around your fingers as you pressed the latched watch to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep tugged at your mind. But, despite that, your head was still filled with the memories of him that you tried to shake away.

You missed him, and you wanted to go back and see him again.

~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm food wafting throughout the house. In your delirium you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow, you were sure it was just your grandfather whipping something up.

And then you were jolting awake. There were two things you knew: one, your grandfather was a terrible cook who considered spam as breakfast, and two: he was dead.

You shot up in bed, your sheets pooling around your waist as you cocked your head towards the door, listening in silence. You could faintly hear the sound of pots and pans clinking and the clacking of heels along the wood floor of the hallway.

Someone was in the house.

You snatched your phone from your bedside table and slipped free from the warmth of your bed. The pocket watch swung into your thigh, the chain still wrapped around your fingers from the night before. You kept your phone on the ready, prepared to dial the emergency line in seconds.

When you opened the door you stuck your head out into the hallway, swinging it from right to left. You couldn’t see anybody, but the scent of food had gotten stronger.

You allowed your door to swing shut behind you, the knob clicking with an air of finality. The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you made your way down the stairs, dodging each squeaky board from years of practice. You knew this house like the back of your hand.

Once you had descended the stairs you found yourself in the first floor hallway, the kitchen door to your right. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took in a deep breath before tensing your body with determination and flinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall.

A cry of shock echoed through the kitchen, the clash of pot and pans forcing a scream from your throat in response. Standing in front of you was what appeared to be a maid, her wispy brown hair tied into a bun at the base of her neck beneath a hat matching the long black dress and crisp white apron she donned. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the nineteenth century.

The two of you stared at each other in shock for a moment after your scream had died down and fizzled out. Her hand laid limply on her chest over her heart as her shoulders heaved with surprised breaths.

Her gaze flickered up and down your form, her cheeks quickly reddening at your state of undress.

“I cannot believe this!” She suddenly cried, throwing down the spatula she held in her other hand. “I’ve told the young master numerous times to stop consorting with heathens like yourself!”

“Heathen?” You echoed in confusion. “Hold on, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

“In your home? The audacity! You lay with the young master once and you believe yourself to be the lady of the estate? I will not have a harlot like you traipsing around!” She yelled back.

“Lady, what the fuck are you on? You’re the one who broke into my house! Get out!” You screamed.

“Emmett, Emmett come quickly! The young master let in another stray!” She called.

In a matter of seconds a man entered the room dressed in a three piece suit and gloves, he looked much like a butler.

“Again? This is the third one this month, Mary.” He sighed in disgust, eyeing your form. “The indecency of this one, running around naked.”

You were speechless, all you could do was dumbly look down at your bare legs. The shirt you wore was fairly big, it covered everything important. Still, you grabbed at the hem and harshly pulled it down further, your mouth agape at his words.

“Come now...miss. It’ll do you little good to linger here, we wouldn’t want to get the authorities mixed up in this, they aren’t fond of your kind as you know I’m sure.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say until he approached you, gripping your arm roughly and tugging you out of the kitchen.

“Get your fucking hands of off me, fucker!” You yelled, struggling to free yourself from his grasp.

He tutted to himself as he ripped the front door open, “Such colorful language and such poor manners. Well, I suppose that is to be expected from women of your status.”

“Stop!” You cried, digging your heels into the floor. “You can’t throw me out of my own house! If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops, I swear!”

The butler merely shook his head, tired and annoyed with your antics. “Have a pleasant day, and for your own sake, find yourself a husband and stay off of the streets.”

And with that, he threw you out onto the front porch and slammed the heavy, mahogany door shut, the lock clicking into place. You spent the following moments banging your fists against the door and demanding to be let back in, once you realized how futile that was you unlocked your phone and dialed the emergency line.

But you weren’t met with anything, no ringing, no voicemail, nothing. Your face scrunched up in confusion, your phone didn’t have a signal...how was that even possible?

And that was when you realized, for certain, that something was very wrong. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were surrounded by trees.

You stumbled backwards in surprise, knocking into the front door behind you. All of the houses that once lined your street were gone. For miles around you all you could see was a dense forest and dirt and gravel roads. Your sweet, elderly neighbors house was gone, the ice cream shop that you could once see from your house was gone, the sidewalks and the fire hydrants were missing. It was as if they had never been there in the first place.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your stomach turning and your heartbeat thundering violently in your chest.

Everything was gone, how was that possible? Where did everyone go? Where did all of the buildings go? There was no way that they could all have been decimated and replaced with trees that towered higher than your house in one night. What in the absolute fuck was happening?

You crouched down to your knees, weaving your fingers through your messy hair as panicked sobs wracked your body. You had no explanation for what was happening, you had no idea what the hell was going on. Your phone wasn’t working, you were kicked out of your own home, and everyone was missing.

You sat there for a moment, crying to yourself in a complete and utter panic before you realized that you needed to at least try and find someone who could help you. You allowed yourself a few more moments to squeeze out some more tears, heave your last sobs, and dry your wet face. You had done a lot of crying the past few days, enough tears to last you a lifetime. It was time to get to work now and figure out what was going on.

So, you stepped foot onto the manicured lawn before you and made your way to the dilapidated road ahead of you. The dirt and gravel dug into the bare skin of your feet causing you to wince and jump in pain. It was better and easier to walk alongside the road rather than on it.

The more you walked, and the further you walked, it became apparent that it was not only your street that had suffered changes overnight, but your entire town. What had once been a shopping district you frequented often in your teens was now a sea of never-ending trees. You hadn’t seen this much greenery since you went hiking years ago.

The home that you remembered was much different from the sights you were seeing now. Your house had been the only Victorian on the street, the others newer builds that had popped up over the decades. It looked like any other street you had ever seen, an amalgamation of history in a couple blocks. But now, it appeared to be a clean slate, devoid of noise, devoid of life, and devoid of structure.

In an eerie way, you felt like you were at the beginning of time, back before humanity had cultivated the earth and turned vibrant greenery into concrete jungles. It was as beautiful and it was lonely, if you hadn’t had that run in with the maid and the butler earlier, you could have assumed you were the only person on earth. How startling and stifling that would have been, to be just a house plopped in the middle of nowhere, with not a person in sight.

It was not unlike how you felt now, alone walking alongside an empty road surrounded by trees. You could feel the miles passing as dirt clung to the soles of your feet, the skin burning in protest as you continued walking aimlessly in search of any signs of another person or house in the area.

The thick layer of dark clouds hanging in the sky was not doing anything for your mood. You were certain you would be doomed to spend the day or possibly even the night in the trees trying to take cover from the onslaught of rain that was sure to come.

And, just as you had predicted, all it took was one roll of thunder through the sky before the clouds let loose a torrent of rain. Your only saving grace was that the rainfall was not ice cold, but lukewarm. Your other concern was that where there was thunder, there would be lightning. At least you weren’t the tallest thing in the area though, a tree was more likely to be struck than you were. But that would be the cherry on top of your shitty day wouldn’t it, to be struck by lighting as well?

But, just as your hopes were about as low and hell, you spotted something in the distance. The structure was familiar, you were certain you had seen those peaked roofs and stone walls many times before. Yesterday you had been driving on the highway when you passed the country club, and now you were certain that’s where you were. Where you stood now and once been home to a highway, and mere miles away was the country club you had passed everyday on your way to work.

If you were lucky, the staff would take pity on you and maybe you could shower and get some food in you before you called the authorities to deal with those intruders of yours.

By the time you finally made it up to the country club, you were completely soaked to the bone. The only pieces of clothing you had on, being your underwear and your oversized t-shirt, were drenched with water. You looked like a drowned rat if you were being honest with yourself.

But, even in your panicked and miserable state, you took notice of a few things. The signs that once held directions and the name of the club were gone, nothing there that even hinted at their prior existence. The parking lot was long gone as well, not to mention the caged in tennis courts and the golf grounds. It was all missing. The only thing that stood as familiar to you was the large, Victorian manor itself, and the grand water fountain in the center of the roundabout. This roundabout was made of gravel though, instead of the cement you remembered it being. And, to your disdain, the tiny pieces of gravel had returned to puncture the delicate skin of our feet once more.

You were tired, you were cranky, and you were wet. All you wanted to do at this point was run inside and collapse on the polished floor.

You sped over the gravel as fast as you could before running up the stone steps, sliding under the cover of the roof that was fixed over the front door. You raised your hand up and curled your numb fingers around the door knocker. And, with difficulty, you swung the door knocker against the rich wood of the front door frantically. If there was a doorbell you would have been annoyingly ringing it nonstop, so you had to settle for banging the door knocker violently instead.

While you were mid swing the door was ripped open violently, your soaked form almost being tugged inside as you were still attached to the knocker. A man stood in front of you, he too was dressed in a three piece suit, gloves adorning his hands and polished oxfords sitting under the hem of his pant legs. His suit was much finer than the butler’s from before, but the expression on his face was just as, if not even more, stern than the butler that came before him.

“Please,” You huffed out, using your best pleading gaze. “I need help.”

“I think you are mistaken, miss. I do not believe you have any business with the master of this estate.” He responded coolly, a harsh edge to his tone.

“Wait please!” You cried as he backed away and attempted to shut the door. You gripped the door frame, wedging your arm in place to keep it from closing. “I just need to use your phone.”

“I’m sorry miss, but -”

“Claude? Who’s at the door?” Another voice echoed from inside.

“Please, can I come in for just a second?!” You called inside as you heard the click of footsteps approaching the door.

“Master, I think it would be best if you let me take care of this.”

“It’s alright, Claude, step aside.” The voice responded. The butler, Claude, edged away from the door in uncertainty before disappearing inside the depths of the club.

Seconds later, a new man replaced him, opening the door much wider than the butler had. Your heart dropped into your stomach in astonishment and embarrassment. He was probably the most attractive man you had ever had the privilege of seeing and for a moment you were convinced you had fallen into an alternate universe because all of the men you had seen on a daily basis were nothing in comparison to him.

He was rather tall with tan skin, dark hair, and a set of dangerous dimples. It took everything in you to restrain yourself from delicately poking one of those smooth craters in his cheeks that was calling out to you.

With a sudden jolt you realized he had been staring at you just as intently as you had been staring at him. His lips had parted and his eyes had darkened. You could feel his gaze traveling over the dips of your collarbones and the exposed flesh of your legs and arms before settling on the thin fabric that stretched over your chest.

Heat instantly flooded beneath the skin of your face, your arms crossing over your chest. In your moment of hysteria you had forgotten your lack of bra and the rain. You were sure this man had seen more than you had wanted to show him.

His tongue swiped over his lower lip at your action, his dark, half lidded eyes flicking up to meet your own in a rather sensual stare.

“Are you a lady of the night?” He asked, his voice deeper than before.

Ah, that was a term that you had become rather accustomed to today. Well it’s synonyms at least: heathen, harlot, and now lady of the night.

“No!” You cried in frustration, you had no issues with sex workers, what you did have an issue with was that because of your state of dress everyone had come to assume you were looking for some!

“Please, I just need help.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping from the stress you had endured all day.

The look in his eyes had all but disappeared after your omission of the truth. You were not a lady of the night, you were just scared, confused, and in need of help.

“Come inside.” He said, opening the door wider.

You looked up at him in surprise, shocked to see a gentle smile gracing his lips. Before he could regret offering you shelter, you hastily entered the front room, your arms still wrapped securely around you as you felt the warmth of the building rush through you.

Yet again, though, you noticed things were different. The front desk was gone, the signs pointing to the bathrooms and the changing rooms were missing, and there weren’t any people other than yourself and the man that stood before you.

“Where is everyone?” You asked him, turning to face the man as he closed the door behind the two of you.

“What do you mean?” He asked you, equally as confused as you were.

“This is a country club...where are all of the guests?”

“Country club?” He laughed, his dimples becoming more prominent as his eyes filled with mirth. “This is my home, there isn’t a country club for miles.”

“What?” You whispered to yourself, the water from your shirt sliding off of you and tapping against the wood of the floor rhythmically.

“They’re still fairly new after all, not many around here I’m afraid. You must be lost then?” He mused.

“What do you mean they’re new? They’ve been around for years, this is one. I’ve been here numerous times!” You explained, exasperated.

“Are you feeling well, miss?” He asked, stepping closer to you without letting his gaze wander as it had before.

No, you weren’t feeling well at all, you were incredibly fucking confused. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, none at all. Country clubs weren’t new, they had been around for over a century now.

And that was when it all began to make sense. All of the pieces suddenly had fallen into place. All the houses on your street were gone, the shopping center, the highway, the signs and the parking lot were missing from the country club. Your phone was unable to get a signal in the hours that had passed. You had encountered four strangers that spoke in a manner you had not heard often and dressed like they were from a different era.

“What - what year is it?” You asked, your body trembling now from anxiety and from your wet shirt.

“1891, of course.” He responded, his face appearing even more confused than it had before. He was looking at you in concern as well, he wasn’t sure why you would be asking him such an obvious and ridiculous question.

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you began to stumble backwards, your legs going weak underneath you as you slumped to the ground. Your vision was focusing and un-focusing, your head feeling light as you could faintly hear his panicked voice in front of you. It was beginning to sound further and further away though as your bare thighs met the cold, wood floor beneath you.

You were having a stressful day.

~~~~~~~

When you woke it was to a cold compress against your forehead and the feeling of a plush mattress beneath you. For a moment you thought that you were at home again, that the past few hours had all been some fever dream and your grandfather was taking care of you in your state.

But the feeling of the thin, silver chain still wrapped around your fingers assured you otherwise. That had not been a dream in the slightest.

You jerked forward, the cold cloth flying onto your lap as your hands scrambled across the top of the duvet reflexively searching for your phone.

“It’s alright, relax, you’ll only worsen your condition!” A voice seethed as hands settled on your shoulders and coaxed you back against the pillows behind you.

It was him again, the man with the dimples.

“You have a fever, it won’t do you any good to move around too much.” He lectured you, his hand waving around as he scolded you.

You quickly caught sight of something wrapped up in his ringed fingers, it was your phone.

“Give that back!” You yelled, snatching your phone back from his hands and holding it tight against your chest. You were glad that your phone was password protected, not that he would ever know what to do with it even if he managed to unlock it by accident.

“What is it exactly?” He asked you as he relented, taking a seat in a chair that had been moved to your bedside.

“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is.” You replied, shooting him a look that he reciprocated with shock and astoundment. He probably had never been spoken to like that before, a man with what you could only assume held power, status, and wealth. There was a part of you while still shocked at your predicament enjoyed the idea of fucking with some rich people.

“As a guest in my home I think I have every right to know.” He shot back with a quirk of his brow, jerking his chin up.

The audacity. So, as petty as it was, you refused to dignify his statement with a response.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me then I’ll have to assume you don’t know what it is either and you stole it just like you did that watch. It’s to be expected of someone of your...nature.” He insinuated, his gaze flicking over your form from head to toe.

“My nature?” You replied, your skin going hot with untapped irritation.

“Well, a prostitute of course.” He answered with such certainty it made you want to scream.

“For fuck’s sake how many times do I have to say I’m not!” You yelled, throwing your head back against the pillows.

“Well of course you are, with that way you looked coming up here you were practically naked, how could you not be a pros-”

“First of all,” you interrupted, “The proper term is sex worker and you have no right judging women who have no other choice and even if they did choose it you still have no right to demean them for taking up a profession that employs a service and receives payment for it like any other job!”

“Secondly, the manner in which I am dressed does not mean you get to make baseless assumptions about me or my job without knowing why I look this way in the first place.”

He sat there for a moment, stunned. A long pause of silence passed between the two of you before a smile split across his face, those dimples returning in full force.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Did I ask?” You retorted, annoyed, and overall confused from his sudden change in demeanor. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that maybe he had a thing for women putting him in his place but you quickly shoved that down in embarrassment.

“Well it’s only proper, you’re already in my bed anyways I figured you should know my name.” He replied with a boyish smirk.

You choked in confusion and shock before softly muttering your name in response. You did owe him that much, he had taken you in and taken care of you. That was the only thing you would give him though, his prior attitude still stung.

“I’d like to inform you that despite your progressive thoughts not everyone will see eye to eye with you, miss. You’re lucky you found your way here, there’s a murderer stalking these streets.”

“A murderer?” You echoed, your blood chilling in your veins.

“You don’t know of Jack the Ripper? That’s what the public titled him at least.” He explained.

Holy shit, the timing was perfect. Namjoon had told you the year was 1891, whatever had caused your slip through time sent you right back into the tailend of the Jack the Ripper murders. You had been lucky that he hadn’t stumbled across you, because despite your beliefs that your attire didn’t mean anything, everyone you had met had mistaken you for a sex worker. It would be expected that the infamous ripper himself would have thought the same and your name would have joined the list of victims.

That was too close of a call for you.

“Has he killed recently?” You asked out of morbid curiosity, you were hoping, selfishly, that you had arrived after his last victim.

“He’s been rather active, I should know, I’m the one investigating him.” He said, a look of irritation falling over his features as he crossed his leg over the other, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

“You’re an officer, then?” You asked.

He responded with an annoyed snort, rolling his eyes. “Thankfully no, I’m more of a private investigator. I’ve been employed by some officials high in the government to do the work the police have been ruining as of late. How embarrassing, three years and they still haven’t managed to pin the murderer.”

Ah, so you had struck a nerve. He didn’t like the police, noted.

“Tell me more.” You probed, your genuine curiosity winning over your unease.

Namjoon appeared to gather himself, his gaze that had once been far off returning to you. “Detail such grizzly deaths to a lady? I’m afraid not.”

“Where I come from we don’t take sexism lightly, Namjoon. And, not to mention, I’m a journalist. Trust me, I can handle it.” What you said was true, as a journalist you were receiving a once in a lifetime opportunity, you were given the chance to witness the investigation of the world’s most well known cold case.

“You’re a strange woman, unlike any other I’ve ever met before.” He said softly, an amused light in his eyes.

“You’d be surprised just how much we are capable of.” You shot back.

“Fair enough,” He smiled, enthralled with the back and forth the two of you had engaged in. “I’ll tell you more in my study, I’ll send for a maid to help you dress.” He said before standing up and heading towards the bedroom door.

“I’m interested to hear your thoughts.” He called over his shoulder before the door clicked shut.

As soon as he left, you felt like you could breathe freely, a deep exhale of air passing between your lips.

So, you had slipped through time. Your thumb rested between your lips as you nervously chewed at your nail. You were coming to terms with the fact that somehow, some way, you had retreated into the year 1891. The next issue that you needed to resolve was how you were going to get back to your own timeline. You didn't belong here, that was for sure. Just from your previous conversation with Namjoon you knew that you were drastically different from anyone of this era. At this point, you were sure that was bound to get you in some sort of trouble. It was probably best to lay low around people other than Namjoon who had already been exposed to your modern ideals.

As you sat, stewing in your thoughts, a series of gentle knocks echoed from the door to the bedroom. You peeled the sheets away from your body and stilled for a moment. Somebody had changed your clothes. Where you had once worn your faded tour shirt you were now dressed in a long, flowing, silk nightgown that just brushed the tops of your toes. It was rather pretty and ridiculously comfortable but that didn't lessen your anxiety from having a new state of dress from what you had passed out in.

Another set of knocks, less gentle ones this time, spurred you to move faster. As soon as your bare feet met the plush carpet beneath you, you rushed to the door. Upon opening it, a maid stood there. She held a few items in her arms, her face obscured by the dense pile of fabric she cradled. Without saying a word you moved aside and held the door open for her. You could faintly hear her mumble out a weak thank you, muffled by what she held.

She shuffled over to the bed and dropped everything on top of the mattress with a heave that swung her small body with it.

"Alright, Miss. Are you ready?" She asked, turning to face you with a pleasant smile.

"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.

"Well, to dress you of course."

Your face flushed in embarrassment, that was something you had conveniently forgotten, people of higher status like your host did not dress themselves in this period.

"Oh, that's alright, I can manage on my own."

"Are you certain?" She asked, an apprehensive look crossing her features as she stopped laying out the clothing items, her hands halting over a corset.

Fuck.

"On second thought I would love the help." Yeah, there was no fucking way you were learning to lace that thing on your own.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would have been to dress yourself had you not appreciated the help the maid had given you. In Victorian fashion, layers were undeniable and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of how hot these women had to get in the warmer months.

You had also assumed the corset would have been troublesome, given how you always heard about its bad rep via movies and literature. In reality, it was quite comfortable. It wasn’t overbearingly tight and you could breathe perfectly fine without a single hint of dizziness. You couldn’t help but ask the maid about this in astonishment.

She giggled as she smoothed your dress, “Tightlacing you mean? Why, is there someone you’re trying to impress?”

Your face burned with heat at her insinuation, “No, no, I was just curious.”

“It is quite fashionable, but not very practical, no?” She said with a hint of a smile as she stepped back from you. “Well, if that’s all you’ll be needing of me the master is waiting for you in his study, would you like me to escort you? It’s not very far.”

“Oh no, I’m sure I’ve distracted you enough, if you could just point the way that’d be very much appreciated.”

“Of course!” She chirped, guiding you into the hallway of the manor. “Just head straight down that way, it’s the door at the very end of the hall!”

“Thank you for all of your help.” You smiled gratefully before your turn and began your walk through the hallway.

The manor was gorgeous with pane glass windows that stretched from the length of the floor to just below the ceiling that were framed with thick, velvet curtains. The floor beneath your shoes was parquet and a deep mahogany that shone proudly in the daylight that filtered into the hallway. You had not seen all of the manor but you knew, just from this glimpse, that the rest of it radiated wealth and power just like its master.

The clicking of your shoes against the polished hardwood echoed down the length of the corridor as you approached the doors to the study. You had never been to this floor of the manor in your timeline, it had been long since roped off and only elite members were allowed access. Now, it appeared you could roam freely to your heart's content.

Your knuckles brushed against the door, three knocks in quick succession sounding out into the quiet hallways and study.

“Come in.” Namjoon called, his voice steady yet distracted.

You pulled the heavy doors open and slipped into the study. Upon entering you noticed a number of things, for one the study resembled that of a library. The space was vast with bookshelves towering over you as well as everything else in the room.

Namjoon was seated behind a desk, his fingers resting at his temples while he flipped through a set of papers placed on the surface of the table. While the rest of the manor had appeared clean, almost sterile really, this space had gone untouched by the staff. Various books laid open or bookmarked on the floors, couches, and his desk.

Upon further inspection you noticed textbooks and medical journals strewn about, anatomy pages glaring back at you.

“Are you a doctor, Namjoon?” You asked, lifting one of the textbooks up to get a closer look at what he had been reading.

“A doctor?” He laughed, “I consider myself to be more of a scholar, really-”

Whatever else he had meant to say ceased, the words failing to part his lips. He was looking at you again, not unlike the way he had looked at you when you had appeared on his doorstep scantily clad and drowning in a torrent of rain.

He made you uncomfortable.

“Look at you, looking like a lady. You could have fooled me if I did not know any better.” He said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a sarcastic grin.

“Such a gentleman.” You huffed with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “If you’re not a doctor then what is the point in reading things like this?”

“To catch a killer, you must think like a killer.” He hummed, tapping the tip of his forefinger against the side of his head.

“You’ll never catch him.” You said, the words escaping you before you could even think about the repercussions they would have.

“And why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes narrowing with a challenging look to them, the irises were dark and sent a cold chill down the length of your spine.

“Call it intuition.” You replied, thinking quickly on your feet. “If countless others who are far more qualified and knowledgeable have failed to find him, it’s improbable one individual will bring him down.”

You had unknowingly just challenged his intellect, if this were a dance you would have quite literally just stepped on your partner's toes.

Namjoon stood quickly, his chair shooting back as he rounded the desk and approached you. You stumbled backwards in surprise but did not manage to dodge him as he matched your pace. His hands had settled on your waist, spinning you around to pull you back into his chest.

His voice was soft and mellow beside your ear as he spoke, “Each victim was a prostitute, all found in the east end of town. Already there is a location and a motive, no?”

“Now, here is what I find interesting.” He hummed, swiftly gripping your chin and pushing your head back onto his shoulder. His fingers ever so lightly brushed down the column of your throat before drawing a line across it from left to right.

“Immediately he slits their throat, and right after? Disembowelment.” He said, his other hand that was settled on your waist migrated to your lower abdomen, his fingers caressing another line over the clothed flesh.

“Most people, those ‘investigators’ for example, would say he hates women. But on the contrary, I think he is quite fascinated. With every murder he takes something that is uniquely theirs, would you happen to know what that is?”

“Their womb.” You managed to say. You were trembling and you were certain that he could feel it. He was scaring you, the reality of your situation was suddenly becoming rather apparent.

That could have been you.

“Exactly, and to do something like that you would need some medical background, especially considering the speed and technique with which he does it.” He confirmed, his hands resting on your waist once more, this time turning you to face him.

“So, if I were a ripper who was fascinated by women, where would I be?”

“Well...everywhere?” You replied, stepping out of his hold.

“Yes and no. We have a pattern and a motive, someone who is targeting prostitutes in the East End. My money would be on a hub for illicit activities, and with my sources I have a clue as to where he will strike next.”

That piqued your interest. “And where would that be?”

“If I know anything, it’s that the rich don’t like to follow rules and love a good party. Every now and then viscounts, dukes, and aristocrats alike will gather and dabble in illicit activities together. These parties change location every now and again, but most commonly we see them in the East End. Chances are, we can find a doctor with devious intentions at the hub of them. So, do I seem qualified to you?”

“This was your way of proving your capability to me?” You huffed, shaking your head.

“Yes, and it appeared to work.” He smiled, leaning back against his desk with his arms spread behind him on its surface.

“Well, luckily for you, I’m interested.” You responded, jutting your chin out as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Interested?” He echoed.

“If you want to catch a killer, what better way is there to do so than draw him out?”

“You’re offering yourself as bait? Are you neurotic?!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side as he popped off of his desk. “Do you really think I would allow that in good conscience?”

“I don’t need your permission to do anything, Namjoon. What I am offering is an agreement of mutual satisfaction. You get a way to bait the killer and I get the story of a lifetime.”

You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was.

“So, do we have a deal? You asked, extending your hand out to him.

The silence that hung between the two of you was unsettling. His dark eyes lingered on your hand for a moment before flicking up to your face and back down. His lips were pursed in thought and you could tell he was debating with himself heavily. There was a soft ringing in your ears as the quiet stretched on.

A sudden smile spread over his face, one that you thought almost appeared devious. He laughed to himself and then shook his head before breaching the space between you and gripping your much smaller hand in his own. He gave your hand a firm shake before tugging you forwards and pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand with a grin.

“We have a deal.” He confirmed.

“What a fucking flirt.” You grumbled to yourself beneath your breath, anxiously sliding your hand over the fabric of your skirt. “So, when will this party take place?”

“One week from now.” He said, raising his hand to hold up one finger.

That was much longer than you had wanted to spend in the Victorian era. Far much longer.

“And what will we do in the meantime?”

“Well investigate, of course.”

~~~~~~~

Days had passed in Namjoon’s company, and for all of the investigating the three of you (Namjoon, Claude, and yourself) had done, no results were accomplished. But, on the other hand no murders had been committed in the East End.

You were halfway through the week until the party, and despite your efforts there was absolutely nothing. You were becoming as frustrated as the inhabitants of the East End as well as your fellow investigators. Among all of your “resources,” you were caught at a dead end just as the police were.

You had heard of Jack the Ripper in your youth, you were once an avid true crime fan. But, for the life of you, you could not remember who the next victim was and where their corpses would be found. And for all you knew, protecting that individual would only cause someone else to lose their life. Time was tricky and fickle, and if it was set in stone, it did not matter who would die so long as someone was drafted into the void.

You assumed.

Your host had been...strange, to put it simply. You had thought to yourself that that was just in his nature, he was easily distracted, unfocused, yet insanely intelligent. But his mannerisms were unusual. He seemed completely unfazed by the case he had been assigned to, the only moments in which he showed a visceral response were when he dealt with you, or the police force. He hated them intensely, you could only assume because of how ineptly they were handling the case itself.

And, most frequently, you found yourself going head to head with him. And boy, did he enjoy the challenge. And, if you were bold enough to admit it, you would say he derived pleasure from the arguments the two of you would get into. He would constantly fix you with that confident smirk, the one that told you he believed he was always one step ahead of you. And fuck, did it piss you off. And he was very much aware of that. He loved a good challenge and you were far different from any of the women he knew of.

He often wondered how far he could push you before you snapped.

And if his cocky behavior wasn’t enough to piss you off, it was how much of a blatant flirt he was. There was nothing more frustrating than someone arguing with you while flirting with you at the same time. And your constant refusal and rebuttal to his advances only seemed to fuel the fire.

The cover of night time became your one refuge, that was when you had an excuse to stay away from him. You could have the whole night to yourself and be free of him until the morning.

Usually.

Normally, you slept through the night. But for some reason your body woke you. It was either late at night or extremely early in the morning. No sunlight entered the room, it was still incredibly dark.

At first, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. That was of course until you noticed a figure seated in the chair by your window mere feet away. You immediately jumped and began to scramble backwards out of the bed, the sheets twisting around your legs and slowing you down.

It was the call of your name that made you freeze.

Namjoon was sitting in your room at an ungodly hour...watching you.

“Namjoon?” You hissed, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He answered, pressing his palms onto the armrests and pushing himself up to stand.

“I really wish you would have.” You grunted, pulling the blanket around you even tighter. “Do you know how creepy you -”

“Two more women are dead.”

Silence.

“What happened?” You whispered, your fingers going limp.

“One woman was murdered late last night and the other an hour ago. It was a double event.” His tone was flat, completely absent of affect.

The three of you could only hold him off for so long, and it looks like he lashed out as soon as he was given the chance. Two women within the span of a few hours were killed, and you couldn’t help but feel like that was your fault.

No matter what you do, someone will die.

“What do we do now?” You asked, sullenly looking to him from your point on the bed.

“We have to go meet with the authorities.” He answered, distaste evident in his voice when he uttered the word ‘authorities.’

“Come, we don’t have much time.” He urged you, snapping the sheets back to the foot of the bed while pulling you up to your feet.

You stumbled as he tugged you forward, your head spinning from the sudden motion. You were struggling to see, your eyes still heavy with sleep despite the dreadful news you had heard. The feeling of his hands at the back of your nightdress certainly shocked you awake.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snapped, smacking his hands away from you.

He appeared frustrated, his eyes dark and his face set in irritation at your refusal. “I just told you, we don’t have much time. All of the maids are still asleep, it’s far too early to call one of them for help and you certainly don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“I can manage on my own, I don’t need your ‘help’.” You argued, stepping away from him in an attempt to create some distance between the two of you. “You don’t know the first thing about women’s clothes anyways.”

His jaw tensed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before releasing an annoyed sigh. “Trust me I have undone a few corsets in my time, it’s not as difficult as you make it out to be.”

“And just as I said, I can dress myself I am not a fucking child.”

Before you could move his arm shot forward and his hand wrapped around your forearm tightly. Despite your struggling he yanked you towards him, his other hand gripping your elbow.

“As stupid and insufferable as you like to think I am, I know you are not from here.” He said, his voice low and dangerously quiet. “You don’t speak, act, or even walk like you are from here. The more you hide from me the harder this is going to be. You need help, now you can either be a brat and I have to force you to do as I say, or you can play along and we can get this done and get to work. It’s up to you.”

He had just told you he knew you were a time traveler without explicitly saying it. At least that was the way you took it. But the way in which he spoke to you did not seem to insinuate that he meant that you were a foreigner. Many of your interactions with him would have led him to believe you were from a different time and, not to mention, you had done a terrible job of hiding your phone from him the first day you arrived. You had done a poor job of concealing that from someone as smart as him.

“And what if I don’t want you to see me?” You tried one last time.

“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already seen.”

So, he was the one who had changed you the first day you had arrived in 1891. There were many red flags waving in the back of your head, and like an idiotic bull you had failed to recognize a single one of them. Some journalist you were, you had missed all of the finite details.

“Turn around.” He finally said, his voice firm.

And, with no other choice, you did. It was incredibly awkward on your end. Despite the attractiveness of your host, you had no desire for him to strip and dress you. Unfortunately for you, he did not care. You understood the urgency to leave and your little spat had already delayed your departure. But you were a person who valued your dignity and autonomy, you weren’t built to live in a society such as this one.

You tried your best not to focus on the feeling of his touch, but it was incredibly hard to ignore. Instead of touching you as little as possible, it felt like he took every chance to caress, graze, and linger on every inch of bared skin.

For a moment, all movement stilled. You were only halfway dressed, your corset exposing everything upwards of your chest leaving your collarbones, arms, shoulders, and neck on display. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of fingers smoothing over the column of your throat, not unlike the incident in Namjoon’s study.

He was absolutely quiet as he pressed his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, softly breathing in and out as his fingers continued to stroke the skin of your throat from left to right in a gentle, slow, sawing motion. Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest in what could only be described as fear. Your back was ramrod straight, a harsh line in comparison to the relaxed form behind you.

Why were you so afraid of him? It was like every nerve and muscle in your form was begging you to leap away and run for your life. But he wasn’t dangerous, right?

You jolted at the feeling of lips just brushing against your shoulder as he pulled away from you and finished helping you dress, far quicker than he had been before. His demeanor was suddenly resigned, professional, and cold. It was like he had suddenly mustered a sense of self control in mere seconds.

Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?

Said man was retreating in the direction of your bedroom door, his hand grasping the doorknob as he called over his shoulder, “Meet me out front, and please be quick about it.”

That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind.

“Namjoon? How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”

He stiffened for a moment, his hand tightening around the doorknob causing the muscle to strain and his knuckles to whiten. He said nothing, his head jerked to the side for a moment like he was gesturing in disbelief.

He raised his head and stared at you, and then without saying anything, he left.

~~~~~~~

You stared at the face of your pocket watch, the delicate chain wrapped around your gloved fingers. The hands of the watch were still, the familiar ticking of the watch was silent. It was like time had completely stopped. And in a way, maybe it had.

The carriage halted to a stop spurring you to snap the watch cover closed and pin it back into place.

Your companion quickly exited and stood outside, reaching his hand out to you to help guide you from the compartment. Despite the sudden animosity between the two of you, you placed your hand in his own and allowed him to help you down. The layered skirts of your dress swirled around your ankles, they were heavy and made it hard to climb in and out of transportation. Begrudgingly, you managed to say your thanks between gritted teeth.

“Try to behave.” He whispered beside your ear offering his arm to you.

You hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead the way. If you had it your way you would be fifteen feet in front of him carving your own path through the East End. But, your lack of knowledge of Victorian etiquette had already managed to get you in trouble and the last thing that you needed was more trouble.

“Where are we going?” You asked, quickening your pace to match his long strides.

“The previous crime scene has already been cleaned up by the task force, but the one from this morning is still intact. I have been instructed to go over their findings as well as conduct my own investigation.” He explained.

“Alright, what can I do?”

“What you can do is stay right here.” He instructed, bringing the two of you to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. It was already blocked off, warning the public to steer clear of the area.

“You have to be kidding? You really expect me to wait here for you while you go and investigate? I don’t take kindly to being told to just sit and look pretty, Namjoon.” You glared.

Namjoon titled his head back and let out a sound of annoyance, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with an exasperated sigh. “For once, will you please listen to me? This is an active investigation and I am asking you, a civilian, to stay put. I swear, I will tell you everything you need to know for your story, alright?”

Another bitter silence passed between the two of you. He knew you were incredibly dissatisfied with what he had said. But he was just as stubborn as you were, that being the reason the two of you butted heads so often.

He shook his head, jaw tensed with anger as he stepped away from you heading in the direction of the alley way.

“Stay put!” He called over his shoulder, waving his hand at you as he disappeared, his form melting into the darkness of the alley that had yet to see the glow of the early morning sunrise.

Now that, that pissed you off. You were not some dog that would obey his every command, the more he told you not to do something the more it made you want to do it.

You waited for a few moments, for his sake and for the very fact that it would piss him off that you refused to listen. You were an impatient woman, and you would be damned if you listened to a single thing he said.

The air was crisp and cool with the lack of sunlight, your breath fogging the space in front of you as you slunk down the dark alleyway. You could hear Namjoon’s voice echoing down the brick tunnel, he sounded enraged. There were several other voices attempting to speak over him, but they were evidently failing.

And then there was the smell, it was horrid. The cramped space was packed full of the scent, it was indescribable. The only prominent smell that was familiar was the tangy, coppery odor of blood thick in the morning air.

But what you hadn’t been expecting was that the body was still there, slumped against the ground haphazardly like it was nothing more than trash. An officer was still there, knelt down next to her body. He was prodding her flesh with a grimace, holding a handkerchief over his nose to block out the scent.

“Christ, she’s still warm!” He called out, jumping up to head back to the investigators while giving you a full view of the carnage laid out before you. “He could still be close by!”

Multiple sensations bombarded you at once. A scream was caught in your throat as your stomach began to churn from the sight before you. You raised a gloved hand to cover your nose and mouth as you leaned against the wall, your knees feeling weak.

It was bad, worse than you could have possibly imagined.

There was blood, more blood than you had ever seen in your entire life. And whatever it was that was laying before you just barely looked human. But the parts that did look familiar was what made it so unsettling, so wrong, so horrifying.

Namjoon was calling your name.

You were still in shock when he grabbed you, his hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing your face into his chest blocking the grotesque view you once had. His other arm wrapped around your shoulders, cradling you closer to him.

“Her...her face.” You stuttered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Are you that inept at your jobs that you couldn’t keep a civilian from entering a fucking crime scene?!” He yelled over your head, his voice vibrating deep in his chest.

“I told you to stay put.” He mumbled, his lips pressed to the crown of your head while his thumb stroked the side of your face as you shook in his hold. This was the gentlest he had ever been with you.

You had never seen anything like that before. Whatever words he had spoken were falling on deaf ears, a sharp ring was echoing throughout your head, numb tears streaking your face and ruining his jacket.

You could feel his hands slide to the curve of your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and only him.

“From now on, you listen to me, okay?” He said, his eyes darting over your face to make sure you were retaining what he was saying.

You weren’t sure what was more concerning to you. The fact that he was suddenly so gentle with you, or the fact that he paid no mind to the corpse mere feet away from the two of you.

There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon.

~~~~~~~

Whatever investigation Namjoon had managed to conduct during your moments of shellshock provided nothing new. The choice of murder was the same, albeit the brutality was by far the worst of all the victims before.

Her body had been warm indicating the perpetrator could still have been close by, but despite that knowledge the search parties could not find the culprit that had been described. There was no man covered in blood hiding in the shadows of the East End, he had disappeared like he had never been there in the first place.

A few days after the murder had taken place, Namjoon had informed you the killer had made contact. His face was grim as he described what had transpired. A letter and a parcel had arrived addressed to the taskforce, inside was what appeared to be a human kidney and a letter signed with a flourish, “Jack The Ripper.”

He was playing with them.

Your dreams were plagued with the memories of the sights you had seen that day in the early morning light of the alleyway. And instead of forcing you into submission, it made you angry. The initial sight had rendered you imobile, weak, and defenseless. You had never seen a human look like that. But with each dream you dreamt as the week melted away, you festered in guilt and rage.

Your fellow Victorian journalists had called him a monster, but you knew better. He was not a monster, he was a coward preying on women in the veil of darkness. Cowards harmed the weak and the defenseless, he was a caricature of a monster.

And you wanted nothing more than to rip the Halloween mask off of that faux monster.

This thought is what lent you strength as you and Namjoon reentered the East End, prepared to once and for all unmask the killer that had escaped the two of you.

You were dressed expensively, and rather salaciously, to blend in with the aristocrats around you. Namjoon and Claude appeared comfortable in the environment and it made you wonder if this had not been their first time attending an illicit party. Namjoon had explained to you before that he was often hired by government officials to do the jobs the police often failed to do, so it would not be unexpected if he had been there more than once.

You were bombarded by various sights that had you sticking close to your companions. When Namjoon said “illicit” parties, he meant it. The amount of illegal activities taking place was astounding. No matter where you looked, something was going on. Various partygoers were drinking unmarked liquids, inhaling unidentified substances, or swapping large amounts of money for some unknown service (although you had an inkling as to what they may be).

At one point in the night you had tried to locate a bathroom only for Namjoon to pull you away from the door you had attempted to open.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He said with an all knowing, tight lipped grin.

“Really, and why not?” You asked, your hand resting on your cinched waist.

“I didn’t picture you as one for...group activities.”

“Group activities...there’s an orgy in there?!” You whisper yelled, frantically wiping your hand on your skirts with wide eyes.

Namjoon wheezed out a laugh, guiding you away from the room and back towards the center of the pseudo ballroom. “What can I say, this is a sinner’s paradise.”

“Sinner’s paradise, more like Chlamydia’s Palace.” You huffed, your cheeks hot.

Namjoon laughed again only to be stopped by the presence of his butler, Claude. His hand concealed his mouth as he whispered something to Namjoon. Whatever it was he said seemed to please Namjoon while also provoking an indescribable look to wash over his handsome features.

As soon as Claude stepped back, Namjoon spoke. “I need you to stay right here, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just keep to yourself until I return.”

Your eyebrows pinched together in irritation and confusion, “But, Namjoon -”

“Remember what happened the last time you refused to listen to me?” He snapped, raising his eyebrows in emphasis.

You pressed your lips together, turning your head to the side. Yes, you did remember what had happened the last time you ignored his instructions.

Namjoon sighed, propping his finger under your chin and turning your head to look at him. “Please, trust me on this one thing.”

You thought to yourself for a moment, the last time you didn’t listen it hadn’t exactly gone well for you. This was just one thing he was asking of you after all of the things he had done for you, he was asking for just one moment of cooperation.

You lowered his hand from your chin and took a breath. “Okay, I trust you.”

A look of pure elation erupted on his face. He gave you a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks.

“I’ll be back.” He said before retreating into the crowd with Claude following close behind.

And then you were alone, but not alone for nearly long enough.

Your hands fiddled with the pocket watch your grandfather had gifted you as you walked, your head down and your gaze focused on the glass face of the watch. It was almost like everything had gone wrong after he had died and left it in your possession.

Far too distracted from your internal thoughts and the presence of the watch, you missed the incoming form barreling towards you. Within seconds you were knocked to the floor, the layers of your skirts luckily breaking your fall.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry, my bad! In a rush, I’m quite late I’m afraid.” The voice rushed out, a slight wheeze accompanying it as he appeared breathless.

You felt two hands grasp your own and carefully help you into an upright position.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You said, irritation clear in your tone.

“No really! Forgive me, it’s my mistake.” He said.

You adjusted your dress, making sure all of the important bits were in place before finally looking up to see who exactly this man was.

You were not expecting it to be him. Not at all.

“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback.

It was him, he looked years younger than when you had last seen him, but it was him. You had gone through countless scrapbooks as a child and the face that was staring back at you was the younger version of the man that had raised you.

“What?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling as his shoulders shook.

Your gaze zeroed in on the chain of the watch clipped to his pocket. And, without saying a word, you pulled your own watch free and showed it to him.

All mirth completely left his body, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. His lips parted in shock and distress as his eyes traced over his own initials carved into your watch. His hand patted his own chest frantically as he pulled the watch free and held it beside your own.

They were identical, down to every nick and scratch in the silver finish.

“How did you get here?” He asked, his voice low and serious in a way you had never heard before. “Did they send you?”

“Did who send me? Nobody sent me. I just woke up here, other people were living in my house and everything was gone.” You explained as he pulled you to a corner of the ballroom.

“This isn’t right,” He mumbled, flipping open his own watch. “You’re a time anomaly, there can’t be two of us here at the same time.”

“Two of us?” You echoed.

“Time travelers, dear, it runs in the family I’m afraid. What was I thinking about giving that to you without explaining?” He said, his words flying so quickly to the point that you were struggling to keep up.

“Then let’s leave, show me how to get out of here! There has to be a way!”

“You can’t just leave, you’re here for a purpose, you didn’t just come here by accident.” He said as a blue glow began to steadily thrum and pulse from his watch. “Oh no.”

“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”

“I have to go, I’m being called back. Whatever you do, you cannot change anything, do you understand? Who are you staying with, what have you done?”

“I haven’t changed anything that I know of. I’ve been staying with Kim Namjoon.”

His eyes widened as the watch began to pulse even stronger than before. “Kim Namjoon! Listen to me, you need to go, you need to get as far away as possible he -”

But before he could finish what he was saying he disappeared. It was like he had blipped out of existence, like he had never been there at all.

You spun around in a circle, trying to see if he was truly gone. All of the party goers did not appear to be phased, it was like they hadn’t seen a single thing that occurred. How was that possible? Fuck that, how was any of this possible?

All you knew was that you were going to follow his advice and get the fuck out of there and out of the East End.

You forced yourself through the thick crowds of people, pushing, checking, and elbowing away anyone that got in your way. You winced as one particular shove sent a whole glass of wine pouring down the cleavage and dress of one inebriated woman. It didn’t really matter though, you were sure she could afford another one with the way she had been slamming back drinks all night.

You threw open various doors in an attempt to find a way out, each time you were met with an increasingly more disgusting or disturbing sight. You didn’t even know some of those positions were possible for fuck’s sake.

Finally, when you threw open a door you were met with the smell of crisp, fresh air. A way out.

It was a slim alleyway of the East End, just barely illuminated by the crescent moon that hung in the pitch black darkness of the sky. A sudden sense of paranoia washed over you, the last time you were in an alleyway it had ended poorly. But you knew you didn’t have time to think about that.

Oh, if only you did.

The minute your heeled feet met the ground you were greeted with that all too familiar scent. There was blood nearby and lots of it. You could hear shuffling a few yards away, and you knew that you fucked up.

Your throat felt tight as you attempted to swallow, you were certain you could taste the blood on your tongue from how strong the smell was. And, when you finally turned to face whatever was in that alley, you were horrified.

A few yards away you spotted three figures, two on the ground and one leaning against the wall. And beneath the three of them, a crimson river steadily flowed through the cobblestone.

You took a step back, your heels scuffing the stone spurring only two of the figures to look up at you. A scream bubbled in your chest at what you saw. Claude was hunched over the figure of a woman, blood splattered over his face and down the leather apron he wore over his clothes. You could see bloodied tools in his grip as he settled back on his hunches, pausing his motions mid incision.

And then there was Namjoon, the once blank look he wore on his face suddenly lighting up with intrigue at the sight of you.

“Claude? Why don’t you take the lady home.” He spoke, gesturing to the corpse.

Claude looked between you and Namjoon for a moment, appearing conflicted. But he did not hesitate any longer as he scooped up the woman’s corpse and retreated down in the dark depths of the alley.

Namjoon was quick as he approached you, you barely made it a few feet away before he grabbed you by your forearms and pinned you up against the wall, hushing you as panicked cries parted your painted lips.

“I’m sorry, darling. But, I did tell you to stay put didn’t I?”

“Why?” You managed to say as you trembled in his hold, ugly sobs wracking your entire form.

“Women only want me for one thing I’m afraid. My money. I thought that maybe I could help those women who had nothing, that they could give me love in return if they didn’t know who I was. But they were just the same, motivated by money. I would give them my love and beg them to stop selling themselves but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Every single one of them failed my little test. They were greedy, and selfish. They didn’t deserve to be women. So, I hurt them just like they hurt me.”

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, you could only focus on the rising feeling of panic in your chest.

“I knew someone would eventually catch on to what was happening. But how ironic was it that they assigned me to the case out of all people? Those fucking investigators are so inept they never saw it coming. And Claude, well his loyalty was extremely helpful. If you don’t want to be caught, don’t commit the crime yourself.” He whispered.

“All I wanted was to give them my love, but each and every single one of them broke my heart. All of them except for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek that made you violently flinch.

“You were such a little spitfire, and when you showed up to my door I thought I was going to have to kill you on sight. But you proved me wrong, you’re the only one deserving of my love.”

A blue light suddenly lit up the space between you, the glow of the watch casting sinister shadows over the ripper's face.

Immediately he reached for the watch at the same time as you, and without much effort he wrenched the watch free from your hands and shoved you down to the ground. Your head met the stone first and on impact black spots blurred your vision.

The watch pulsed vibrantly in his hands, humming like a heartbeat. A wicked laugh shook his shoulders as he flipped the face open.

“So this is how you did it?” He asked, swinging the watch by it’s chain recklessly.

“Namjoon, don't’!” You cried, struggling to stand.

But it was too late. A feral scream ripped its way out of your throat as you watched him slam the watch into the ground and violently dig the heel of his shoe into it. The glass shattered, the metal bent, and the blue glow stuttered, weakly thrumming before fizzling out and plunging the alley into darkness.

The ripper stalked down the alley and stood over you, a viscous smile pulling at his cheeks as he slowly tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t look so surprised my love, there is only one way I’d ever let you leave me.”

#bts #bts namjoon #bts x reader #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #yander #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #bts fanfic #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader #bts rm #rm x reade #yandere rm x reader #jack the ripper au #victorian au

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sunnysidekit · 3 years ago

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Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

#ben miller x you #ben miller x y/n #ben miller x reader #benny miller #frankie morales #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fic #garrett hedlund fanfic #my writing

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ateezgf · 4 years ago

Note

miks how did you isolate san O.O

that's so cool!!

hi hi :D !! under the read more will be a step-by-step tutorial on how i isolate people in gifs as seen in my san gif and this gif right here !!

i also use a different method for stuff like my wayv set & my rotoscope sets (dino, hongjoong, end of 2020) !! although similar, this is specifically what i did for my san gif !!!!

this tutorial will be screenshot heavy & centered only around adobe photoshop 2021 on a macbook @.@ because that’s all i use so i won’t be including stuff with vapoursynth or anything since i dont know how to use it HKASGDKJA.

INTRO — GETTING STARTED

so everyone has their own process in how they get clips for gifs so do what you would normally do~ what i personally recommend is using this on shorter gifs frame-wise. this is a very time consuming process!! i’m not saying you shouldn’t do it on gifs with a lot of frames, that’s just more to do. i tend to lean towards between 30-50 tbh. but like i said !! to each their own~

anyway, you’re gonna go about your business of making your gif but STOP !! don’t put your layers into a smart object!! you’re going to want to DUPLICATE these layers first.

after duplicating them, you can then convert either these or the original layers into a smart object. i labeled it as “b/w base”. this is a 30 frame/layer gif, i just took out a lot of bits hence why it says a different number.

STEP ONE — B/W COLORING

now that we have all that situated, i hide the duplicated layers. this way i know for a fact im changing the color of what will strictly be our background. so go ahead and make all those eyes next to the layers disappear for now while we go about the background.

this is another one of those “everyone has their own methods of doing it” type things. i just used the ‘Black & White...’ option under ‘Image’ -> ‘Adjustments’ & messed around with the settings until i got my desired background look~ again, do as you please. for this, i also adjusted curves & exposure.

now, for my san gif, i really wanted to emphasize the tunnel vision effect he has so i went over to the ‘Filter’ and selected ‘Gaussian Blur...’. for this gif, i used 4.1 !! i also sharpened it afterwards so use whatever settings you prefer ^^

!! DON’T WORRY ABOUT UR SUBJECT YET !! i know theyre all blurry and monochrome right now too, but this is where our duplicated layers come in~

STEP TWO — CROPPING

SO NOW ONTO THE FUN !! we’re going to unhide all of those layers from earlier this will bring all the color back as these layers are above the base layer we just played with.

the specific photoshop tool i used was the OBJECT SELECTION TOOL. it should be right between lasso and crop (if the tools are organized the same).

so on your TIMELINE, you’re going to want to make sure that it’s at the very beginning of your gif. i mean, right at the very edge. and of course, have your FIRST LAYER, NOT YOUR BASE selected. so the object selection tool has either lasso or rectangle options. i’m going to use the rectangle option to select my subject.

ok so i got lucky and it picked chan out really well; but just to make sure, i like to right-click and pick ‘Select Inverse’ so that it’s got the background area selected instead of chan.

this is where i right-click on the current tool we’re using and select ‘Quick Selection Tool’. i use this to pick up on small details that i might want to correct. for this specific frame, i had to adjust bits around his jacket and arms. for mac, holding down the ‘option’ key will allow you to essentially push out the lines. on windows, it’s the alt key !!

now once you’re satisfied with what you have, you’re going to want to right click & hit ‘Layer Via Cut’. this will then create a whole new layer of the background you just cut out!! feel free to delete that (you can also toggle it to double check to see if you need to undo the cut so that you can refine your lines)

AND BOOM CONGRATS YOU GOT THE FIRST LAYER DONE :D !!!! and you should be able to see just how it’ll look just like this ~

STEP THREE - ???? — REPEAT

just as that implies, you’re going to do this with every single layer until you finish all of them. it’s very time consuming BUT it’s something i enjoy doing because it’s really fun to me :D !! don’t forget to stretch and everything especially if you tend to hunch over while you’re doing this!!

TO GET TO THE NEXT FRAME, of course you’ll have to select the next layer on the right.... BUT you’ll have to click the forward button on your timeline. it should be 3-4 clicks until your background suddenly has color again. that’s your next frame so go ahead and repeat the process until you get to the last bit !!

TIP — i know it’s excessive clicking and it might just be me; but sometimes i get so into the zone i don’t notice mistakes. i suggest going back and forth between layers every now and then just to make sure you don’t overlook something. it’s better to catch a little slip up 2 layers ahead and undo that rather than finding out there’s a mistake after completing the entire thing </3

STEP THIS ONE — YOU DID IT !!

YAAAAY YOU GOT IT DONE AND IT SHOULD BASICALLY LOOK LIKE THIS !!!! go ahead and select all the layers you worked on and create a smart object !! this is where you can go ahead and do any coloring or whatever else your heart desires. crop, sharpen, post !!!

i really hope this tutorial helps ^^ if you have anymore questions then you can message me at any time !!!

#anonymous #answered #gif tutorial #I REALLY HOPE THIS HELPS I'VE NEVER WRITTEN A TUTORIAL BEFORE KDFJSGNN #this is really long and wordy sos #* mine.#* miks.gif

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asthmark · 4 years ago

Text

❝ not alone ❞, l.ty

synopsis → “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

word count → 2.5k

warnings → angsty!!! the plot may not make sense since it’s literally 1 in the morning oops

a/n → i hope this concept makes sense and it isn’t too confusing or messy!! if it is just shoot me an ask i would be more than happy to clarify :] anyway i actually like the outcome of this but i am too tired to go back and reread it all for any mistakes so i just hope google docs has my back lol gn everyone

7:00 A.M.

the alarm you set for every year at the exact hour goes off at its appointed time, much to your dismay. the mere sound of your phone beeping has a knot forming in your stomach. you wished it would stop, that everything would just stop but that was beyond unrealistic. in fact, you felt foolish for even letting yourself think like that. no matter how badly you wanted things to change, they never would. you would have to endure the same things every year.

you had struggled to fall asleep the night before, that exact thought on your mind and the dread of facing the following day eating away at you. you had only managed to get some rest because of taeyong, who held onto you tightly and caressed your hair as he whispered sweet words to ease you into much needed sleep.

but the day was here now and there was no amount of romantic words or tender touches that would change that. there was absolutely nothing either of you could do about it.

you lean over towards your nightstand to turn off the alarm and taeyong stirs when he feels you begin to shift around in his arms. you lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling as he slowly begins to wake up. he yawns and stretches his limbs out on the mattress which was routinely for him. this would usually be followed by him trying to give you a smooch only for you to squirm away, giggling as you complained about his morning breath.

it is not one of those mornings.

8:09 A.M.

you end up having cereal for breakfast, another big switch up from your routine. normally, you two would browse the internet in search of a recipe that looked promising and try your best to recreate it. you would end up with flour, sugar and dirty dishes all over the place but you never cared. then you would sit at the couch, happily enjoying the finished product and chatting with the tv playing softly in the background.

that morning you sit at the dinner table silently, the cereal in your bowls going soggy before either of you had made a dent in it. you had lost any appetite and from the looks of it so has taeyong.

“you should eat.”

you glance up at your boyfriend. he isn’t eating either, instead he focuses on dipping his spoon into his cereal, bringing it above the bowl only to let it fall back in again. you put your silverware down. “i don’t think i can.”

he hums softly, agreeing with you. “are you nervous?”

it went without saying that you were both terrified. but you know he’s just trying to make conversation. you just nod your head anyway.

10:31 A.M.

you and taeyong move to sit on the couch, turning on the tv so you don’t have to bear anymore uncomfortable silences.

even the newscaster looks down in the dumps, as expected. her voice lacks emotion as she speaks about the forecast, knowing nobody would be taking genuine interest unless it was to get their mind off of the current situation.

what did she expect? the world was restarting, people weren’t going to care about the weather.

“now, for the ongoing events,” says another news anchor. “as we are all well aware of, today is the annual reset. businesses worldwide have closed, most people opting to spend the day with their friends and family and we advise any viewers to do the same. talk to your loved ones about the memories you’ve made in the past year and write down the things and people you do not want to forget.”

you turn to taeyong only to find his gaze is already focused on you. you don’t hesitate to grab the hand that rests in his lap and intertwined his fingers with yours. neither of you say a word as you go back to watching the television, taeyong giving your hand a reassuring squeeze every so often.

12:46 P.M.

by noon, you and taeyong had begun cleaning your apartment, making sure it was well organized so that the next day you could focus only on getting settled in to your, essentially, new lives. you do the standard dusting and vacuuming along with similar around-the-house chores. while going through the closet, taeyong finds a shoe box full of polaroids you two had taken throughout the years. there are dates and other additional notes scribbled in sharpie on every single picture so your post-reset selves could read about the details of each photo since you would not be able to remember it. he calls out your name, smiling brightly when he sees your face light up as you fondly look over your shared moments.

“i’m so glad we got that camera,” you say, shifting through a stack of the photographs.

he nods. “probably your best idea yet.”

you find a picture of him giving you a piggyback ride and coo. it’s quite blurry but you can clearly see the huge grins on your faces. “look at us.” you hand him the photo. “we look so happy.”

he makes a noise of agreement, staring lovingly at the image. “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

“quit it.” you shove his shoulder, smiling sadly as you attempt to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. “i don’t want to cry right now, there’s still so much work to do.”

“it can wait.” he opens his arms and that’s all it takes for you to break. you crawl into his embrace, sobbing softly into his chest. it tugs at his heart strings. he tucks his chin above your head but you still notice how his shoulders shake and quiet hiccups escape his lips.

3:28 P.M.

once you and taeyong get tired of being confined to your apartment, you decide to go out for a breath of fresh air. you walk around aimlessly and your final destination turns out to be olympic park. as expected, it’s quite empty since as you had heard on the news, everyone was spending their last couple hours with those they loved in private.

you take in the beautiful scenery and if either you catch sight of a pretty rock or blooming flower, you will stop to pick it up and carefully place it in your pockets for safe keeping. you had found that they served as good reminders of all the time you spent together. in fact, there are many more of these mini souvenirs in your home, decorating your shelves.

“hold up,” says taeyong suddenly.

when you look at him his eyes have zeroed in on something on the ground. he kneels down and picks up a smooth rock. you can’t help but notice the familiarity of it’s color.

“pretty, right?” he says, dropping the item in the palm of your hand. “it matches your eyes.”

you smile at him, finding his attention to detail incredibly endearing. you hold on to the rock, feeling its curves with your fingers until a cluster of chrysanthemums catches your attention and you have to free up your hands to pick one. you decide on a yellow one and present it to your boyfriend.

“here,” you say. “for you.”

“hey, aren’t i supposed to be the one giving you flowers?” taeyong asks but he takes it from you anyway.

“you’re supposed to give flowers to people you like,” you say. “and i like you.”

“you like me?” he asks, gasping softly. “how embarrassing.”

you go along with his joke. “don’t you like me too?”

he shakes his head and makes a face. “no way... i love you.”

you shove his shoulder. “so cheesy.”

he can’t argue with that so he just nods and chuckles as he tucks the chrysanthemum into his dark locks of hair. at seeing this, you raise the polaroid camera round your neck toward taeyong and he, already used to it, automatically poses for you. he puts his arms over his head, curving them into a kind of crooked heart. he gives an open mouthed smile only resuming to his normal position when he hears the click of the camera. you and him share a laugh once the polaroid picture develops completely.

“oh god, i look ridiculous,” he comments. “please get rid of that.”

you only give him a sarcastic, “yeah sure” and continue walking.

you two never got rid of pictures, no matter how ridiculous or unflattering they were. you agreed that every moment you shared counted and deserved to be remembered.

although, they never would be.

5:45 P.M.

you chew on the cap of your pen, massaging your aching hand. you had been writing for almost an hour and you had your cramping fingers to prove it. despite the discomfort, you aren’t one to break tradition. the ‘things i love about you’ list was an ongoing thing you and taeyong had been doing for... ever. they definitely came in handy if either if you wanted to read about what the other was like in past years.

“everything good over there?” taeyong asks, from the other side of the couch.

you shake your head. “this is too hard. i have no idea how i’ve kept this up for four years.”

he puts a hand over his heart. “wow, i’m that hard to love, huh?”

“you know that’s not what i meant,” you say, glaring. “i just have so much stuff to say about you, so much stuff i want future me to know.”

he nods, solemnly. “i get it. i don’t want to leave out a thing but it’s kinda hard to fit a year’s worth of feelings and emotions into a couple pages.”

your let your head fall onto the couch. “why do you have to be so lovable?”

taeyong points an accusing finger at you. “i could ask you the same thing! you’re the most wonderful human being on the planet, if i try to write everything i love about you my hand will fall off!”

you sit up to stare at him. he looks genuinely offended by your ‘wonderfulness’. you pick up your pen and paper.

adorably dramatic, you write.

he scoots closer to you, exclaiming, “hey, what did you just put!”

you hug your notepad tightly to your chest. “no peeking!”

7:12 P.M.

your boyfriend hands you his letter with hopeful eyes. unlike the lists that had been made hours earlier, these writings had been in the works for quite some time. there are letters you and taeyong had written for each other dated all the way from 2016. that was also the year the first polaroids you owned were from so you both assumed it was when you had begun dating. if you ever want to have a good cry, all you have to do is find those letters.

in them, there are heartfelt words for the other person’s eyes only describing how they felt around them, why they were so special, among other sentiments. most importantly, though, you always included why you would never forget the other person. of course, one could say how ironic this was considering that forgetting was what the reset was all about but nevertheless, it was reassuring to read. it made your love seem unbreakable; something so strong it defied the impossible.

you give taeyong your letter, feeling somewhat nervous. he doesn’t hesitate to open the envelope carefully. he slowly removes your letter from inside and you mirror his delicacy. the pair of you sit in absolute silence as you read the words off the pages.

my y/n,

what an amazing year it’s been with you. i know i say that in every letter i write but it’s really true. i never wrote things like this before you came along. only the basics—my name, who my parents were, my birthday, etc. you know, things like that. frankly, i had nothing else worth remembering. but now i do. you’re my whole world, the only thing i truly know and i am convinced i could not be any happier or luckier.

i don’t know what a life without you is like literally but i wouldn’t have it any other way. the situation the world faces with this whole reset mess isn’t ideal and i’ll oftentimes think of what a normal life would be like. even then, in this perfect universe, you’re still by my side.

i still wake up next to you.

i still spend every waking moment with you.

i still fall asleep with you in my arms.

you are still my everything. i am convinced you always will be.

many people avoid love or close relationships nowadays knowing that at the end of the year it’ll all be erased no matter what. how dumb is that? they don’t know what they’re missing out on. having a partner is nothing short of a blessing and you’ve taught me that by being with me every step of the way. sure, forgetting our past together doesn’t get any easier and neither does writing these letters but i’d write a million of them if that’s what it took to have you by my side.

i can only hope you’ll continue being there for me and give me something worth remembering in future years.

you are the light of my life and i can’t wait to fall in love with you again.

yours truly,

taeyong

the tears stroll down your cheeks and drip down on to the paper in your shaky hands. you use your sleeve to try and wipe them away to the best of your ability without smudging the ink. taeyong finishes reading your letter moments later, placing on the coffee table and only staring at you with a distant look in his eyes.

your voice comes out in a whisper. “are you okay?”

he nods, sniffling but his shiny eyes say otherwise. “can you maybe just... hold me?” his voice cracks along with your heart.

he ends up with his head in your lap, your fingers pulling and tugging at his soft hair. you have a couple hours left but you wouldn’t be opposed to leaving the year in this exact position.

11:59 P.M.

taeyong has made it clear he wants you to be the first thing he sees when you enter the new year. so, you spend your last minute getting into a position that will allow that.

you end up sitting sit cross-legged across from him. he’s in the same position and in the small distance between you, your fingers meet. the hold he has on your hands is so tight his knuckles have turned white. his eyes bore into yours and although he doesn’t say a word, his hazel orbs let you know it’s all going to be okay. you repeat those words to yourself.

it’s going to be okay.

“i love you,” you blurt.

he only has a couple seconds to respond.

“i love you, too. if you’re going to remember one thing, let it be that.”

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chrissyutimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Damsel in Distress

This is a soulmate au one shot. As per usual, '---------' marks point of view changes, and the setting is on the surface. This one is with a gender neutral reader, starring Butch from @bigoltrashpile. I don't own Butch, and if you want to read more about him please go to their blog. Oh, I've gotten permission to use their characters for a series of soulmate au stories. Stay tuned for more~ It would take a long while tho...

In this dangerous, shady world, you led a quiet, normal life.

Living in a small but cozy apartment, working as a front desk manager at a small hotel, hanging out with a few friends... It all seems normal, except for one thing... You've never been caught in the midst of any sort of chaos, be it a simple bar fight or a massive mafia shootout.

A usually rowdy speakeasy would be oddly quiet with you there, never getting attacked walking down a dark alleyway, a mafia shootout taking place in the area you had just left a few minutes ago... It was like you had some kind of lucky aura that protected you from the dangers of this society. Because of this you have been given the nickname 'Clover'.

You've always gave them a smile and accepted the nickname...

But you knew luck won't always be on your side...

Glancing down at your wrist, you see a short message tattooed on it.

'you okay, doll?'

It was said that those words are the first words your soulmate tells you.

...and by the looks of it, you'd be in quite a bit of trouble when the time comes.

You've received a letter from your friend, whose family is stupid rich, and was invited to a masquerade ball to celebrate the fifth anniversary of their luxurious hotel.

Knowing your friend, they will call you to shop for dresses in 3, 2, 1...

'Ring' Ah. Just as expected.

You pick up the phone.

"Hey Sof."

"OMG! Did you get my invitation?! We're going shopping in a minute! You better be ready by then! Oh! And we need to catch up lately! It's been too long!"

"Heheh! Sof, we were chatting just two days ago!"

"Yeah! Way too long! See you in a few minutes! 'click'"

Typical Sofia. Well, loud or not she's a good friend. And you should better change clothes before she...

'Ding dong!'...arrives.

You sigh and go greet your friend.

"How did you get here so fast?"

"Oh! I was in the car when I called you! Now go change into some decent clothes! We need to get some proper dresses for the ball!"

She herds you into your bedroom and a short while later you're in a high-end dress shop. While you gape at the beautiful yet expensive dresses, your friend starts searching through the various dresses.

"Don't just stand there! Come over here. It's not like you've been to this place before."

"Alright, alright. I'm coming."

The both of you start to pick the best dresses while making small talk.

"...so I just went like- Oh my! This would look amazing on you!"

Sofia holds up a red and black velvet dress, it looks like a dress fit for royalty.

"Oh! Sof, I, I don't know."

"Oh stop worrying about me, your know I don't look good in red. Now go put this on and show me!"

You sigh and let her push you into the dressing room. You try on the dress and twirl in front of the full body mirror in the room. You... Look stunning. You hear intensive knocking on the door.

"Hey, get out here and lemme see how it looks!"

You sigh and chuckle her eagerness, then walked out of the dressing room, giving a small twirl to show off the dress.

"Well?" She was silent for a few seconds.

"...well? It's fantastic! You're getting this one! Now, help me choose a dress!"

"Of course, Sof. Just let me change first."

"I'll wait for you then."

You change and start helping your friend. You soon found the perfect dress for her, which she said was, 'The prettiest dress I've ever seen!' But, you know she's just bluffing, she has always been the dramatic type. You sigh and chuckle, following her too the cashier to check out both of your dresses.

After searching the mask store for a while you managed to find a beautiful, classy, red and black mask to go with your dress. Sofia has also found a sparkly mask to go with hers. You both chatted for a short while before parting ways.

When you got back home, you marked the day of the masquerade and placed the clothing away. This would be a perfect break from your boring routine...

Or would it?

----------------------------------------------------

Butch is sleeping in today... Or he would be if Noir haven't dragged him up. He grumbled.

"come on! ya know 'ow late i worked last night!"

"This Is Important Lazybones! You Have To Get A Decent Suit Tailored Asap!"

"*yawn* why?"

"You Are Going To A Masquerade Ball. We Have Business With The Hotel Owner."

"*sighs* *grumbles* alright, fine."

He begrudgingly went to the tailor and got his measurements. Then Noir dragged him to a mask store to get a 'suitable' mask... Which basically means Noir picked one for him.

When they finally got back, Butch just flopped on his bed and dozed off. This would be another boring, pesky business trip...

Or would it be something more?

----------------------------------------------------

On the day of the ball, you dressed up in the stunning dress and mask you got via Sofia, did your hair to compliment your dress, and put on some red heels to finish the look. You have decided against make up as no one can see it under your mask. Sofia said she wanted to arrive at the ball with you, so she would be here in three, two, o-

*knock knock*

Bingo. You open the door to see Sofia practically bouncing with excitement.

"OMG! (Y/N), you wouldn't Believe how excited I am! Are you done?! Come on!"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming, Sof. Just let me grab my hand bag."

You grab your hand bag and went to the exquisite, grand masquerade ball with Sofia. She excitedly told you all the details of the ball, and from what you gathered, you think this'll be a delightful evening.

But you have no idea what has truly been in stored for you.

----------------------------------------------------

It's the day of the ball, and Butch is, well, being his usual grumpy self. Putting on the freshly tailored suit and the well-picked mask along with a pair of freshly polished leather shoes, he went to attend the ball.

Thinking of the business meeting with the owner made him annoyed about actually attending and participating in it.

But, he didn't know that someone would change his mind.

----------------------------------------------------

The ball is in full swing. Everyone was dancing, laughing, and enjoying the grand ball. You have just finished a few dances, and feeling a bit parched. So you, along with an equally tired Sofia, went over to the food tables for a nice snack break.

"That was *pant* Amazing! Did you have fun? *pant*"

"Ah yes, having fun dancing so much my feet are sore from being stepped on by multiple dance partners." You said sarcastically.

"Oh. I'm so sorry. How many?"

"I lost count after 10." She winced.

"Ooo... That's not good."

"Yup. I'm going to stay here for a while. You can go dance some more."

"Okay. But you rest up okay?"

"I will."

She smiles and waves at you as she went back to dance some more.

It was then that you heard the whispers

"They look like a couple."

"That dress they're wearing matches the suit he wears."

"How do they look so good in red?"

"Are they together?"

Feeling uncomfortable from all the whispers, you ducked in a dark corner hoping to leave the center of attention. It worked, but the action has got you the attention of someone.

"Hey there, beautiful." You instinctively take a step back as the stranger approached you.

"Who are you? And what do you want? I do not want to dance right now."

"Oh we're not going to dance, sweetie. We're going to have some... Fun..."

You tried to make a run for it, but he caught your wrist. You struggle to break free of his hold, but to no avail. You tried to yell for help, only for the guy to clap his hand over your mouth. This is it, you thought. You were going to get taken away by a random guy and be ruined. Tears streamed down your face as your struggles grow weaker and weaker.

Just as you thought all hope was lost, you feel the weight of your attacker leave. Your eyes shot open, and you saw the blurry form of your savior standing in front of you.

"What do ya think yer doin'?!" A baritone voice growled.

----------------------------------------------------

Butch arrived at the ball, and started hanging around to look like an ordinary party-goer. As he was chilling, he heard whispers.

"That suit looks exquisite."

"It matches the dress the dress that person's wearing."

"Do you think they're a thing?"

"It sure looks so."

He feels his anger creep up in him, but was interrupted by a man tapping his shoulder.

"Sir, the owner would like to speak with you."

He groaned internally and followed the man. He will be out of here after business is done anyway. No reason to stay right? He thought.

After a bit, the business is done, and Butch finished what he came for. He grumbled a bit as he emerged from a dark corner in order not to attract unwanted attention. Just as he was going to leave, his eyelights caught a glimpse of red... And that's when he saw them... A beautiful person wearing an elegant black and red dress with a matching mask... Who is also being assaulted by a scumbag...

He's snapped back to reality at that, and immediately used his magic to drag the guy away from them. Anger bubbling up in him, he growled.

"What do ya think yer doin'?!"

"I-I was just taking my p-partner-"

"bullshit! they were struggling!"

"I-I'm s-sorry-"

"shut up. i'll deal with ya later." He uses his magic to bound him and threw him to the side, not wanting to alert anyone else.

Turning back to the person assaulted, he kneels down and touches their cheek.

"you okay, doll?"

----------------------------------------------------

You whimpered, and threw yourself at the stranger that saved you, sobbing.

"whoa, whoa. hey, it's okay. it's over now. yer a'right now, doll. shh..."

The guy held you in his arms, gently rocking you. Slowly, you calmed down, and pulled away to look at him.

"You, you saved me." His eyelights widen, and you tilt your head curiously.

"What? Is there something wrong?" He didn't reply, instead, he pulled up his sleeves and showed you his wrist-bone? Your eyes widened as you read the tattoo.

'You, you saved me.'

You flipped your own wrist to reveal yours.

'you okay, doll?'

You stared at each other with wonder.

"w-we're-"

"-Soulmates..."

You continued to stare into each other's eyes, till a noise coming from your attacker broke the both of you out of your trance.

"Ow! Why is there a glass piece here?!"

"*sigh* sorry, doll. gotta deal with this bastard first." He stands and helps you up.

"ya think ya can stand on yer own?"

"I-I think so..." He smiles.

"good. i'll be back on a sec."

His hand glows red and the guy floats up. Then, they disappeared. You blinked a few times, not knowing what happened. And just as suddenly, your savior appeared. Seeing your shocked expression, he chuckled.

"ya okay there, doll? dun worry yer pretty lil head off. it's jus' a 'shortcut'."

"H-how?"

"mmmagic." You huff, and he chuckles.

"hehe. 'ere, take my hand. let's go to somewhere quieter."

With one hand extended to you, he seems almost nervous. Is this the same guy who pulled the jerk off you? You giggle, delicately placing your hand on his. He closed his large hand around yours, and gently wraps his other arm around you, pulling you close to him. You shivered a bit as he whispered in your ear.

"hold on tight, doll."

You feel yourself being pulled into seemingly nothingness, you clutched on him, needing to feel a sense of reality. Then the both of you appeared on the balcony. You tried to pull away from him, only to feel an overwhelming dizziness and fall back into his arms.

"take it easy, doll. shortcuts can be a bit disorientin' the first few times."

You grip onto his suit, taking deep breaths to regain yourself as he cooed words in your ear, while soothingly rubbing your back.

When you finally recollected yourself, you stood back up on your feet gazing up at his eyelights.

"Thank you. For everything. But..."

"but what?"

"I haven't even gotten your name." He looks stunned for a second, before bursting out laughing.

"hahaha! y-yer right, doll. w-we... pffft... 'aven't even... ahaha!" You giggled with him at how ridiculous that is.

When you both calmed down, he took his mask off and introduced himself.

"the name's butch, doll." You smile, liking his handsome features, then took your own mask off.

"My name's (Y/N). Pleased to be saved by you."

He looks at you with stunned eyelights. His hand slowly reaching up to cradle your face.

"y-ya look... gorgeous... 'ow did i get so damn lucky?" You blush at his words, and the fact that his face is getting closer and closer to yours.

"Y-you're the one looking so dashing in that suit." His face glowed red as your said those words.

"'m only a bag o' bones... yer... yer the true diamond, doll. can i...?"

His breath lands on your lips as his thumb absentmindly smoothed over your cheek. You blush but nod and closed your eyes. You then feel a pair of lips touch yours, you questioned how a skeleton has lips in your mind, but the thought was gone as you feel yourself melting into the sweet and sensual kiss. By the time you both pulled away, the both of you are panting heavily.

"Wow..."

"wow indeed, doll." You open your mouth to ask about a skeleton with lips, but closed it as his answer would most likely be 'magic'.

Then you noticed your clothes...

"...we match."

He looks down at his clothes, then yours. And his face glows red again. You giggle.

"what's so funny?" he said with a scowl.

"Hehe. You're cute." His face glows redder.

"nah. yer the a'dork'able one 'ere, doll." He smoothly take your hand to kiss the back of it, causing you to blush.

"Hey! Pffft. No fair! You can't charm me with puns and smooth words!"

"oh. so i'm smooth an' charmin' huh?"

"H-hey! *giggles*"

After your giggles died down, you sigh and look at Butch.

"So... What now?" He smiles and puts his mask back on, extending a hand.

"we dance. i mean, we look like the ultimate power couple, might as well."

You giggle, and fix your mask back on as well, delicately placing your hand on his.

"Lead the way then."

As he led you back in, the crowd parted as if they expected the both of you. When you got to the dance floor, a slow song starts and the two of you danced. Couples looked at you two with envious eyes, bystanders whispered around you, but the two of you are too focused on each other to care.

You are with your prince charming and he has found his damsel in distress.

Nothing else matters.

There! Sorry that I'm so inactive lately. It's been quite busy... I'll be working on this series and that second story of Dance of our Souls first. But it'll be really slow as well... Sorry... Hope you liked this story!

#Mafiafell #Butch #Sans #Drabble #Oneshot #x reader #Sans x reader #Butch x reader #Character not mine #GN! Reader #Soulmate au

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bubblyani · 4 years ago

Text

Bail Out: 05

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 05: “No Fun”

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 8500+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing and Slight Violence

Author’s Note: So glad I could finish this on time. Now I’m impatiently working on the next part. When you read it, you will know why. Thanks again for the wonderful response. Enjoy!

Chapter LIST

The rapid sound of gunfire, infused with blood curdling screams, certainly forced your heart to beat right out of your chest. The beating, increased without any prior announcement shocked you, as if the live, blood pumping organ might literally fall out of your flesh vessel. The scene you witnessed, was never expected but only imagined in modes of fiction. Be it novels or films. However, when you truly got to taste it in the rusty reality, only then did you realize the gravity of its horror. And only then at that fateful moment, did you genuinely fear for your precious life.

Just when it seemed trouble had finally set you free.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(A Few Days Earlier)

Allison Hughs was your quintessential fun-loving, living in the moment party girl with complete control over the pace of her existence. Apart from all that, she was also a loyal friend, blindly following you to the ends of the earth in ranting.

“SHE DID WHAT?”

Her inquiry was loud and dramatic, to which you nodded. “Yep” you replied, “She straight up went there…”

Safe to say, the ‘She’ that was being mentioned here was none other than Clara Bennett, the Consultant who slithered her way into Wayne Enterprises, solely to make exaggerated inspections on HR Operations, and to make your cooperate life a living hell, drenched with self-doubt and insecurity. It certainly traveled up a notch when she proactively invited you to take part in a Basic HR Crash Course, that was mainly designed to New Recruits. Simply because she assumed that you would find the Course ‘helpful’ to your own line of work. The fact she indirectly implied a trace of incompetence in you caused so much embarrassment.

“The hell is that bitch’s problem though?”

Allison kept inquiring, as she wiped off the milk from her lips, “Seriously…” she muttered, standing by the opened refrigerator in her pajamas.

“Yeah” you continued to nod, as you stuffed a spoonful of cereal into your mouth, “..and Lillian…being my senior since day 1, didn’t even treat me this way” you added, with a full mouth.

Already dressed for work, little did you expect to see Allison awake and engaged while you had your breakfast, “I look like a fucking joke…”you muttered, after finally gulping the food down.

“Hey!”

Allison cried, pointing her index finger at you, “Don’t you dare give up” she said with seriousness, standing before you, “You need to stand your ground and carry on with dignity…” she continued, her tone quite similar to a heroic speech, “Make Lillian proud she left you in charge…” she added, putting both hands on the table. Leaning forward, she took a closer look, “This will be good for you…” finally as her voice grew soft, she flashed a soft smile. You could not help but look at her affectionately, as you exhaled deeply.

“Talking to you makes me feel so much better…” you admitted. Pleased, Allison stood up straight.

“That’s why I’m your hype man, Sweetie!” she said, turning towards the window, “Watch out Gotham! The Bruiser is here to SLAY-”

“HEYYY!!-” your shushes exited along with your embarrassment. Your friend covered her mouth quickly.

“Sorry, Sweetie….” Allison whispered, taking the hands away, “But it just sounds so badass…” as her tone grew normal once more. You shot her a deranged look.

“Do I look like someone who deserves the name?” you inquired. “Well…” she said, folding her arms, “…the fact you punched that guy is a good enough reason…”

Shaking one’s head with a chuckle, you watched her head to the bedroom with a maniacal laughter. The sudden vibration of the table forced you to look down at your phone. The chuckling stopped, permitting your pulse to quicken with liberty. Rubbing your neck nervously, you proceeded to read the text from the only sender who was capable to send you through an emotional wild ride: Bruce Wayne.

Sorry, long night. Good Morning!

Pausing for a few seconds, you exhaled loudly as began to type:

No worries. Hope your day goes well, Mr. Wayne.

Being an appropriate response, you sent without hesitation. Long night?, could it possibly truly mean a hectic night of crime fighting and city saving in disguise? A strong urge suddenly arose to pull up the search browser on your phone, and type in the words: Batman. And what appeared first in the results certainly made your eyebrows rise with curiousity.

“Ali….” You yelled loud enough for her to hear, “You’ve heard of a website called… ‘Where’s the Bat’?

“EH?”

Her response was equally loud and echoing, “Oh yeah…” she added, whilst you opened the web page, “…Matty was talking about it sometime back…” she continued, “Some nerdy site about The Batman…”

“Damn!”

The word abruptly left your lips as your eyes widened. For you were treated to such a sight, “Ali…get this…” you said, proceeding to read the description of the page, “Welcome to ‘Where’s the Bat?’ Your Online Resource for all things Batman: Gotham’s Caped Crusader…” you squealed excitedly, “Ha! It’s a freakin’ fan site! Oh! Oh!” you exclaimed as you continued to read out loud:

“… reliable sources from our very own admins and enthusiasts all over Gotham City…” with a whistle, you nodded, “These folks are not kidding around, huh?” you muttered, letting your finger slowly scroll down, “And they have posts on almost every appearance he made in the city…” you said out loud, yet it seemed that Allison was never interested.

The Website backdrop was in black, but encompassing a very beautiful design concept. The immaculate detail was beyond believable. Detailed posts on possible weapons owned, vehicles, fighting styles and costume, Photos ranging from Low Quality to High, even blurry videos by camera phones, it was certainly a network of information. Your eyes widened when you saw the recent post title:

Batman and The Bruiser?

“What the-?” Muttering to yourself, you clicked on the article.

“…also known as The Bruiser (Click Here for the Viral Clip) was spotted nearby when a group of muggers had reportedly attacked her. According to the anonymous source, Batman had arrived right on time. A clip of the incident may not be available, yet we did manage to find a small clip as he escaped the scene. And according to Gotham PD, the Caped Crusader had appeared once again to The Bruiser’s aid the night after. As much as we feel sorry for the bad luck The Bruiser attracts, we could only be nothing but envious of her opportunity to meet the Dark Knight twice. And some of us could not help but wonder: Could romance possibly be in bloom between the two?”

“What?” Nervous chuckles were all you let out as you whispered, “Hah! In your dreams, fanboys…” you uttered, closing the browser, “Batman would never go for a woman like me” you said, almost dropping the phone by its sudden vibration. For a reply was received.

You too. Stay out of trouble :)

“And you stay out of my head” you said to yourself, putting the phone back on the table. Covering your face, you could only groan with frustration. Ever since that evening at the hospital a mere week before, casual texts from Bruce Wayne began to appear on your phone, starting off on the very next day:

Couldn’t thank you for running that errand for Fox.

The errand, meaning the black box that Mr.Fox entrusted you with. A small yet long box which was quite light. The very box that granted you access to his penthouse and to the friendship with Alfred Pennyworth.

Just doing my job, Mr.Wayne.

You remember replying that day at office. It was not exactly necessary for him to thank you this way, yet his action was commendable. He did not hesitate to quickly respond:

Much appreciated.

Just when you thought it was the end, he greeted once again two days later. During an important meeting, for example:

Hi there! Is Ms.Foster enjoying the gift?

Once the meeting wrapped up, you made sure to respond :

Very much, from what I know. You’re making motherhood very easy for her.

You would be lying if you did not look forward to write him back. The manner your fingers tingled was quite evident.

That’s a relief.

Clearly with his corresponding reply, he displayed quite an interest in conversing with you, by finding meager excuses to obtain your response. Yet, a part of you wondered what his actual intentions were. Be professional, a phrase that lingered in your head always. A warning, more like. As much as the desire to carry on the message thread was strong within, you did not reply back.

Two days passed, and surprisingly you were dying with curiousity. Could it be that his intention to communicate had finally gone? Or could it be that you were finally missing him? Forming a clever excuse to obtain his signature, you liaised with Jessica, only to find out Bruce Wayne was currently on a business trip in Singapore.

Intoxicated with impulsiveness, your thumbs grew stubborn as they formed a message on your phone:

Heard you’re in Singapore. How is it?

“Shit! Roaming Charges!”

You sighed, your palm slapped over your forehead. Putting the phone away to enjoy the view of the bus ride, you sincerely hoped he would never notice. But to your surprise, the phone vibrated instantly:

Loving the Food here.

Despite roaming charges, he was kind enough to reply. And that touched you very deeply. Then again, money was never an issue for a man of his stature. him. However, you were not Bruce Wayne. Still, a few extra dollars seemed nothing compared to the inner secretive joy you indulged in as you replied:

Not surprised. The Bakkwa over there is to die for.

He did not reply. He did not do so for a day and two. You grew worried, if he was really knee deep in business, or literally knee deep in trouble. But the next morning, you were finally assured of his safe arrival back to Gotham, especially when you found a gift at the door. A Gift which came in the form of a beautiful red box full of Bakkwa, the Chinese sweet dried meat, one of your favorite treats. You did not miss the handwritten note inside:

You’re right. It IS to die for. - B.Wayne

Chuckling with happiness, you were only compelled to quickly text him a grateful reply:

The Bakkawa enthusiast sends her Thanks.

To which you finally received a reply this morning as you indulged on your cereal:

Sorry, long night. Good Morning!

Groaning in frustration seemed rightfully reasonable for you. Stressing out seemed rightfully reasonable as well. Who would not, when there was a storm that brewed inside of you. A storm of emotions that contained the sticky quality. The adhesiveness that was stubborn to the core. For if you look at the situation in it’s entirety, this was not your average instance of a man and woman forming a textual habit in order to know one another. You were an acting Head, informally socializing with the owner of Wayne Enterprises. Being in HR, you could already feel the weight of unprofessionalism heat on you. That guilt which already seemed to haunt you subtly. Thus, not responding further seemed logical, yet it certainly was a hard pill for you to swallow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You sure you don’t want anything? Coffee or Tea?”

You asked Officer John Blake, ushering him to his seat as you sat down. He shook his head.

“I’m good, Ma’am” he said with a smile. Smiling back, you were drenched with guilt. A week earlier, the police officer had requested to meet, yet with your unexpected work load, you reluctantly had to send him back the previous time. Forcing him to wait so long for a week was something you knew you would go to hell for. But John Blake did not judge, or as it seemed from his expression.

“Didn’t know you were running a tight ship here .” He said, looking back to witness the bustle in the main hall outside.

“Well, the Head’s on Maternity leave so…I’m stuck here, hehe…” You answered nervously, “Once again I’m so sorry Officer. You said it was something urgent?”

“It’s about the two attacks…” Blake said, capturing your attention. “Now I’m sure you’re probably wondering if those are simply coincidental or something more…”

“I honestly have been afraid to go down that rabbit hole, but yes I did wonder…” you replied. Looking sideways, he finally turned your way as his lowered his voice:

“I have reason to believe Erik Henderson may be connected to this…”

The image of the mocking man, and his bloody nose flashed before your very eyes. Given his anger, it could be a high possibility. Yet, you were in disbelief.

“What gave you the idea?” You inquired with curiousity. Blake kept his police his hat on his lap securely:

“The men who attacked you, the ones we arrested…” He said, to which you nodded in acknowledgment, “They were bailed out the very next day by-”

“-Henderson’s Legal Team?” You asked blankly, for you were still in disbelief. Blake nodded.

“I may be wrong” he said, “Bailing the people who attacked you, it could also just be a power move, maybe to scare you off…” he added, leaning forward, “So far we cannot be sure…” He continued, “But I think it’s best for you to keep an eye out-”

Your eyes suddenly darted towards the phone screen. For an email just appeared in your personal inbox with a title:

“Job Offer for General Manager”

Eyes widening, you were certainly not expecting that. Quiet for a few minutes, you found yourself staring at your own table, for you were confused beyond all measure with everything you just heard and saw.

“I’m sorry...” Blake began, shaking you from your thoughts, “ if I’m causing you any discomfort-”

“No…it’s alright” flipping the phone downward, you shook your head with a soft smile, “I just…all this was just so unexpected. Didn’t think there would be any possibility for anything like this, that’s all” you said, smiling even more, “I appreciate the information, Officer”

Truthfully, you were nothing but grateful to the man. Perhaps it was because he was the arresting officer who was in charge of that fateful night. Nevertheless, he was nothing but kind to you. Blake grinned widely.

“The Precinct still thanks The Bruiser for Common’s Coffee” He said, to which you were genuinely surprised.

“Oh! I’m glad-”

“BOSS!”

Greg’s cries forced both of you to look to the door. Distress never looked good on Greg. Giving a heavy sigh, he began:

“ I’m sorry to keep doing this but…” he said, “Clara’s gone off the rails!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As he made his way down the Lobby through the crowds, John Blake made his careful observations, fascinated by all that he glanced upon in the Wayne Tower. “Officer Blake!” Stopping in his tracks, John turned upon hearing a familiar voice. He smiled.

“Mr.Wayne…” He addressed, “Didn’t expect to see you here” Smartly dressed in a pinstriped three piece suit, Bruce Wayne stood before the much younger man with a reciprocative smile.

“Well,” he began “You can’t just play hard….so…” Nodding in acknowledgment, Blake held on to his hat. With the silence between them growing longer, John began to speak:

“I’m actually just coming down after meeting one of your Senior Managers” He said, which caught Wayne’s attention.

“Who is…?”

When Blake provided him with the name, Bruce nodded nonchalantly. “Is this anything to do with the Henderson case?” He asked, suddenly growing serious. Surprised by his knowledge, the officer nodded.

“Yes….” Blake added. But then again, there was nothing to be surprised of. Given Wayne was in the hotel when it all happened.

“How did she take it?” “Surprisingly pretty well” Blake said, as he began to walk alongside Wayne ,“But she seems to have her hands full today, doesn’t look too good” he sighed, involuntarily empathizing with her. And given Wayne’s subtle yet concerned expression, Blake realized he was not alone there. Finally reaching the exit, the officer was compelled to do the unexpected:

“Since you were a witness to the incident,..” he began, making Wayne look at him, “ I think it’s probably best that you also know…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You have always put your trust in Lillian Foster. That trust had lasted throughout your time in Wayne Enterprises without forsaking you for a mere second. Thus, you were certain she did the needful in approving the Revised Policies and Regulations before taking her leave. For you had personally witnessed it.

However, when a company email from Clara Bennett to Lucius Fox claimed HR was seemingly incapable of carrying out their operations under the current leadership, you were not surprised to find your anger making an appearance.

And the embarrassment you had to face when she even went so far as to copy you and your managers in to that said email. Professional was nowhere near this behavior. For this was simply child’s play. The panic all your department staff went through was understandable. Especially when they worked only to their very best.

“You wanted to me see me?”

Clara asked, as she entered your office. Raising your head up, you threw a cold expression her way: “Close the door please” Your tone was stern. Looking around, Clara furrowed her eyebrows. “But aren’t you supposed to-” “I’ll take my chances, Ms. Bennett” You interrupted her, lips forming a tight smile. With an uncertain nod, she closed the door shut, before taking a few steps towards you. Slowly getting up from your desk, you quickly walked over to her. It was now or never. “We saw that little email that you sent to Mr. Fox.” You stated, to which she did not flinch. Scoffing, your hands rested on your hips, “I know how things work: When people mess up, even after many warnings, they get complained about to the superiors…” you said in a matter-of-fact tone, “But…” you paused, as you were on a dire attempt not to explode, “how can you expect us...” Surprisingly you felt emotion trickling in, “...to take this lying down when you DIDN'T PERFORM EITHER OF THOSE ACTIONS?” With your voice surprisingly getting louder than expected, Clara found herself folding her arms in defense: “Look, I get it...” She said, her smile suddenly faded, “You don’t like me snooping around” You scoffed in disbelief, “Ms.Bennett, this is not you snooping around. This is you desperately finding excuses to make US LOOK BAD” you stated loudly, “I mean…What exactly on the policies and regulations are you complaining about?” You inquired. And to your surprise, Clara grew quiet before she finally answered:

“I just...” she paused, as if she was seeking excuses, “...don’t understand why the Policies couldn’t be circulated if they were revised” Your jaw dropped in disbelief, “What are you talking about??They were already revised and circulated” you answered with certainty, appalled by the childish games that were being played. “Well…” pausing again, “I don’t see them in the Public Folder”she said stubbornly, to which you sighed, rubbing your temples, “ And according to my sources, It’s Paula Yang’s responsibility, am I right?” Though authority was rife in her tone, you could sense the menace that lingered invisibly.

“Ms. Bennett...” you gritted through your teeth, taking your hand away, “Paula is on bed rest after breaking HER LEG...from a biking accident last weekend” you burst out, “...if you looked up on our employees with the SAME ENTHUSIASM you did on our work, then you would probably know that” you spat, fuming with anger, “But If you expect me to deprive her of her paid leave, JUST SO she could just limp over here to UPLOAD SOME POLICIES to a server? then you’re sorely mistaken! ” You cried out, panting.

Subtly shocked at your response, Clara stood silently. Given her reaction, it was quite evident something disastrous would soon follow. Your threw your hands up in defense.

“Fine” you said, “If you prefer to pin this error on me, please do. But… not the department” you said, as your voice grew soft , “...please” you breathed. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, Clara opened them once again, shooting you a stern glance.

“Do you know…what I was told about you before I came here?” She posed a rhetorical question, to which you rightfully did not answer to, “An unprofessional thug, with anger issues.” She said.

In all your years of working at Wayne Enterprises, this was the far from what you had ever heard from anyone. The silence ruled over the atmosphere for a few more seconds.

“So I came in with a mission...” Clara went on, “...to tame you. Or to rile you up enough to expose who you really were” she said harshly. Folding your own arms in defense, you took a deep breath:

“Well,” you began, “I believe I was angry For the right reasons. So no regrets here” you answered with confidence. Whatever consequence that may follow, you were not aware of, for your justified rage may possibly have outdone yourself this time. You only wished Lillian would forgive you.

“But…” Clara paused, “...from the way you stood up for your employees and your department…,” she said, as her expression softened, “ I guess… I was badly misinformed.” Confusion took over you for the next few seconds, as she looked straight into your eyes before taking in a deep breath:

“I’m sorry!” Your eyes widened, “P-Pardon?” Sighing, Clara reluctantly rubbed the sides of her thighs: “I’m sorry…If I insulted you in any way” she said shyly in a low tone, “Honestly speaking, no matter how much I tried to deny it, everything seems to be running smoothly” She added.

Relief quickly washed over you. Leaving you questioning reality all the sudden. “ I would gladly leave you all alone but..,” Clara smiled, “I’ve been contracted here for a while. So, I hope we can all cooperate together till I leave. Maybe a fresh start?”

Extending her hand to you, she presented a genuine smile. A smile possibly carrying hope to gain your trust. Sincerely impressed by her bravery, you smiled back: “Sure, Apology accepted” You said, shaking her hand, “I really appreciate it, Ms.Bennett”

“Clara, Please.” She insisted, “Ms.Bennett just pisses me off even more”

Chuckling together, you nodded, “Okay, Gotcha”

The phone rang loud to your surprise. Giving her a friendly wave, you quickly moved to your desk in a cheerful manner, growing even more cheerful upon seeing the extension on the phone screen.

“Mr. Fox!” You answered, as you sat down, “How can I help you?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Since the fateful day she first laid eyes on him in his glorious return to Wayne Enterprises until now, Jessica would certainly never not blush whenever Bruce Wayne politely greeted her. Upon seeing her red face, he stepped into Lucius Fox’s office, walking over to find the CEO on the phone wearing a smile on his face.

“Don’t worry about it.” Fox said over the phone, “So you’ll come? Perfect…” He smiled, nodding at Wayne as he finally appeared in his eye line, “Hope to see you then” He added, hanging up the phone.

“I have to admit…” Fox began, ushering Bruce to sit, “… seeing you here every day at Wayne Tower is a happy surprise” He said. Bruce smiled.

“Everything alright?” He asked the CEO, “The Audits aren’t happening till another month or so..”

“No…” Fox shook his head, surprisingly impressed, “ I was actually wondering if you would…like to join me in the Company Dinner, this Thursday night. It’s a little gathering I normally do with the Heads of Departments...” he continued, glancing upon Wayne’s confused expression, “...to form a closer bond and… give them morale” He said, tilting his head. As much as the sentiment was kind, Wayne sighed with exhaustion.

“Mr.Fox, you know very well how I rather be stuck in the basement than go to that…” he said, slowly getting up, “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass”. Offering a polite smile, he turned around to make his leave. When opportunities to make a choice were given, he would certainly rather choose to not wear that mask in public. It tired him.

“She’s coming too”

Bruce froze, the moment Fox’s words reached his ears. Turning to him, he raised his eyebrows.

“She?” He began, “You mean…she?” He asked, highly emphasizing on the said pronoun, for both of them knew the person being discussed.

��Yes” Fox said, “Just got off the phone with her as you came in” he added, “I just thought you would like to know” with nonchalance, he casually put on his glasses.

Silently nodding, Bruce turned back to resume walking. Only except he halted once again, just to spin back around smoothly.

“Thursday…what time?” He inquired with genuine curiousity.

Being a man of his age, Lucius Fox could not help but smile at his response.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Being the workaholic, Lunch Breaks was nothing short of special for you. The moment the last bite of your delicious meal reached your lips, it was off to work once again, giving you ample time to finish your tasks. But this Wednesday, you cast that usual habit away, taking the luxury you rarely took during this entire decade.

Just to decide on a dress.

With your lunch on the desk and Allison on speakerphone, your eyes moved back and forth from two beautiful dresses on the website. With Mr. Fox casually inviting you to the Company Dinner, all you longed to provide was a good impression. Most women in your position would feel greatly pressured and stick to a salad just to fit into the dress. However, you were far too greedy to ignore the great Spaghetti Bolognese that was on the table before you.

“Sweetie, You know I love you, So why won’t you fucking listen to me?”

Allison’s echoed out loud, as you stared at the screen with concern. “Cause it’s a crazy idea, that’s why ” you said, stuffing pasta into your mouth, “Better go with the black one…” you said with a full mouth, pointing at the long sleeved black dress, “It’s tame, and I can just blend in with crowd” squinting, you attempted at imagining yourself in the outfit.

“Boo! BORING”

Allison’s response was quite obvious.

“Hey!” Clara’s whisper reached your ears, urging you to find her standing by the door with a smile. Ever since the intervention, the atmosphere underwent a surprising change, and all was well with the both of you. It was quite unbelievable how cooperative she had become. “I’m sorry but...could I borrow a twenty?” She asked politely in a whisper, all in order not to intrude your call. “Sure…” You whispered back, reaching into your bag to grab your purse, “Hah! Lucky you, that’s all I have” You grinned, fishing out the only dollar note as she headed over to take it from your hand.

“Hey! Hey! Sweetie, Did I lose you?”

Allison’s voice brought you back to the phone call. “No! No! You didn’t…Sorry! Argh!” Groaning in frustration, you looked back at the computer screen, “I don’t know what to do, Ali…” You muttered.

“What is it?” With her still standing there, Clara finally asked out loud. She genuinely looked concerned. Embarrassed, you pointed at the screen.

“No it’s just…” you paused, “I have to go to this Cooperate Dinner thingy tomorrow, and I don’t know what to get…” you added, “…the Black or the White”.

Silent for a few seconds, you stared at Clara as she rubbed her chin with seriousness, while making a careful observation at the screen. Finally, her fingers snapped loudly.

“The White One…” Confidence oozed out of her voice as she replied. Looking back at the dress, you took a deep breath. V neck on the front along with a low cut in the back, the pure white silk evening gown certainly possessed the potential to be a show stopper.

“I mean…Why be afraid to stand out?”

Clara’s words, they rang in your ears so loudly. Pointing at the dress, she continued:

“Wear this, and No one will be able to take their eyes off you” The manner in which she uttered, you were suddenly filled with enough power to head out to the battlefield. Her words, they were simply invisible embellishments to the dress, making it the armor and the secret weapon. It simply became powerful. And finally, you were convinced on which dress to finally purchase. Lips forming into a warm smile, you thanked her inaudibly.

“YAY!” Allison cried out on the line, “Whoever just said that, I agree with you” Chucking, Clara cleared her throat and looked at your mobile phone.

“Hey there…It’s Clara by the way…” she said to Allison. You suppressed a huge grin as you imagined Allison’s surprise upon hearing that.

“Oh…YOU’RE Clara?…” she said, pausing, “Well I like how you think, Clara” she said happily afterwards. Relieved by the sight of both your best friend and your new friend being acquainted, your eyes moved back to the beautiful dress.

“Wear this, and No one will be able to take their eyes off you”

Clara may be right. But you were a simple woman, and your wishes were just as simple. Little did anyone know how your heart simply longed for just one person to indulge your presence for the entire evening. But the possibility of that, was just your wishful thinking. You could only hope for the evening be as successful as imagined. As long as it had the perfect touch of jazz piano playing in the background.

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With notes played with the fluidity of a free flowing stream, the jazz piano music was certainly better tonight than it was that Friday evening weeks ago. With tonight, you only hoped to replace the horrid memory of violence that linked the genre of music with an evening more refined. For tonight, you were no violator, nor a drunkard. You were merely a lady in a beautiful, silk dress.

Walking through the Lobby in your silver open toe heels, you came into the realization of how the dress simply became you. Contrary to your fears, it embraced your curves effortlessly, while the material was kind to you, caressing and cooling your skin.The dress itself contained a sense of assurance you would most likely receive from a trusted friend, some good Samaritan, kindly whispering positive affirmations. Fashioning the outfit with your Mikimoto pearls, you felt you were prepared enough.

You were punctual, fortunately. Lillian would have been proud. When you arrived at the reserved table, the other Heads were just about to take their seats. Cold, curt nods were passed on to you the moment they caught sight of you. Lucius Fox, however was humble enough to smile widely upon seeing you.

“I appreciate you coming in tonight…” He stated, as he politely ushered you to your seat, which granted you access between him and Head of Legal, Ted’s Boss, “This is usually Lillian’s gig” he said.

“Yes I heard,” you agreed while sitting down together, “And she does it flawlessly”

“I think you’ll be able to hold off your own” Fox assured, quite impressed by your appearance tonight. You smiled.

“Thank you, Mr. Fox” you nodded, looking at him, until he suddenly rose from his own chair.

“Ah! The man of the hour”

He said as he looked ahead, “…so glad you could come, Mr.Wayne”

The mere mention of that man’s name made you turn forward in a flash. Bruce Wayne was simply Suave incarnate. He certainly brought forth great depth to his presence everywhere he set foot on. You swore the airways inside began to dry out as your breath was taken away in secret. However, that breath was quickly stomped and discarded recklessly when you realized he was no alone. With a beautiful woman on his arm, he arrived at the table.

When that strong, sour feeling came over you, you were mature enough to admit it was simple jealousy. Yet then again, the playboy lifestyle certainly was demanding. The flashing smile Bruce wore slightly disappeared , when his eyes met yours from the corner of the table. With your sour jealousy stewing you, it was a sheer relief that he took his seat on the other far corner.

“Really Mr .Wayne, This is such a pleasant surprise” Mr. Kline, Head of Accounting mentioned with joy.

“Well, Mr. Fox is getting better with power of persuasion, I suppose ” Wayne said, looking at Lucius, “So...” rubbing his hands together, he smiled, “What are we all having? My treat...”

To everyone’s delight, the night certainly started off on a positive note. According to the trusted word of Lucius Fox, Sushi was the prime choice of food on every single dinner . It was the shared interest with all the Heads by coincidence. Thus, becoming a tradition.

Fortunately for you, you knew your way with Japanese cuisine enough to save your face. Wine and Sake were in abundance in the table, leaving most of the Heads and Wayne’s date quite excited with intoxication. It was certainly a surprise for you, to see the Heads break out into wide smiles and childish attitudes once the alcohol entered their systems. They did not speak much with you, which you were fine with. You were the new one there , after all. But with Fox next to you, you felt a fatherly figure watched over you. You listened to him with earnest, which was not so difficult with his charismatic voice.

You also longed for a distraction. A strong distraction from Bruce Wayne’s eyes secretly claiming ownership over you the entire time. Could he be watching Fox? Or you? You honestly did not know. As much as your inner heart jumped for Joy by the thought of him watching you, confusion ruled supreme.

The turn of the conversation topic from Work to Sailing suddenly tempted the Heads call Mr Fox over to the other side, forcing him and Bruce to change seats instead. His date did not even notice, as she was busy engrossed in her phone. Though you were at your element, calmly eating your maki rolls in silence, your heart beat increased in an instant when his presence nearby was confirmed. His aura gently murmured a greeting of affection, urging you to look up from your plate. Covering your mouth, you politely swallowed the food. With the others engaged in their own little world, it seemed that you and Bruce were suddenly left to yourselves.

“Thank you again for the Bakkwa”

You began, clearing your throat “…it was heavenly” you said, smiling whilst flashing your full red lips. Smiling back warmly, he leaned forward to the table.

“I don’t wanna brag but...” he paused, “I found that store all by myself” He said softly, as it was a dramatic secret. Eyes widened, you played along: “Oh! I find that hard to believe” You said, chuckling.

“Ask me the address, I dare you” He said blankly, making you chuckle harder. Nodding, you generously accepted his kindness. Be it text or face to face, talking to Bruce Wayne symbolized pure joy to you.

“Well, well, well…”

An eerie voice, a voice that haunted your intoxicated memories, and a voice that caused the hairs of the back of your neck to stand. It was a voice you knew well. So bloody well.

“Isn’t this a surprise?”

The entire table looked over to find Erik Henderson. With a gracefully beautiful and age appropriate woman standing beside him, Henderson was as smug as he could be. “Mr. Henderson...” Fox said. Henderson looked right at him. “Lucius...” He uttered, without casting a single glance at Bruce Wayne. The sight of him brought a sense of fear to you. According to Officer Blake, he could very much be responsible for all the attacks you were victim to during the past few weeks. The possibility was high. Thus, the intimidation was justified. Funny how the intoxicated group of Heads managed to maintain their frozen states for a few seconds. As if their buzz was killed right off.

“Well,..” Henderson began, maintain his unimpressed expression, “I wish you all have a pleasant evening” He stressed , slowly turning to leave. “And You!” A gasp left you the moment he spun back to point his index finger at you with such ferocity and anger. With bated breath, you wondered if time froze. Until he suddenly smiled at you. “You behave now...” He said mockingly, chuckling with power as he finally left the table. With the awkward silence taking control, embarrassment injected itself into you. The way he spoke to you was certainly disrespectful. So much so, your right hand quickly clenched into a tight fist , forcing you to revisit the trauma even now by his cruel words. All your anger, centralized into this fist.

But that anger suddenly vanished into thin air, the moment you felt Bruce’s palm rest over your fist. A literal warmth spread across every cell on your being, as his palm comforted you, and empathized with you more than ever. A few seconds of that sent you to a level of peace you never visited. The fact that a man such as he was with his inner conflicts could still heal you unexpectedly, it was magic to you. Finally looking at him, you nodded with gratefulness, leading him to take his away politely.

With silence still in charge, you were guilty of your past actions ruining tonight’s occasion as well. “Maybe it’s the alcohol but...” Kline slowly began, “...that Henderson’s face always reminds me of an…animal…” he remarked, breaking the ice, “l can’t place which one exactly...” He struggled, snapping his fingers away to remember. “A Bat?” Another Head inquired. “YES!” Kline yelled out loud, causing others to finally laugh and feel the comfort take center stage once more. Letting out a sigh, you were relieved to let them converse and make merry. You were occupied enough, recovering from Bruce’s sudden touch. “...and speaking of Bats...” Kline slurred out, “That Batman fella...” “-He comes up every time…” Fox yelled towards your direction with a sigh, while the others clapped in glee. Being so popular, it was no surprise that many consider Batman to be a celebrity of his own right. “-wonder if he ever has any off days?” Kline sniggered, red in the face with sake. “Ha! Like paid leave, you mean?” “And don’t forget insurance! Boy! that man needs a big one” “Hahaha!” “Mr.Wayne! Mr. Wayne!” Kline yelled at Bruce, “Any idea about him from the grapevine ?” He inquired. “What?” Bruce asked, “…that Looney!?!” He added with an amused smile, “Eh! Not interested” he replied with an unimpressed tone. “Why?” It seemed that everyone was curious. Even you were. “Because...” Bruce paused, “Well…he’s a Looney! That’s all….” he laughed, shaking his hand in the air with dismissal. His carefree laughter infected the others, except you. As you were too occupied observing him, you could not even focus. He may have not worn the cowl, but he was certainly wearing his mask. Noticing your stare, Bruce turned to find your face filled with a soft smile.

“You really don’t mean that about the guy, right?” You murmured softly. And all the sudden, that carefree expression of his slowly melted away to reveal his true form, unmasked. “No” Calm and collected, he shook his head with a gentle smile. A sudden urge to embrace him was birthed in you for some reason, it was certainly out of your control. “Hey! Lillian’s Backup!” You jumped upon hearing Kline call you out loudly. With all eyes on landing towards your direction, you quickly sat up straight, “What’s your take on him? The Batman?” Kline inquired informally. “Oh!” Pleasantly surprised, you were speechless for a few seconds. What were you to say really? “I -I rather not say...” you admitted, as you found yourself chuckling shyly. “Eh!” Kline muttered, seemingly unamused, “She’s no fun”he claimed, “…not like Lillian now, is she?” The others hummed together in agreement. They may have gotten lost in their own world of conversation once again. Yet, the words Kline blurted affected you deeply. “Well….” You sighed, “Nothing I haven’t heard before” “What is…?” Bruce’s inquiry made you look at him. Placing both your elbows on the table, you took a deep breath as you kept a brave, fixed gaze at him:

“You’re.. no… fun”

You said, in a low yet strong tone as you emphasized on every word with pain, “…that one”

“I find that hard to believe” Bruce said. He did not flinch. Instead, he accepted your stare and held on to it firmly. Even with the golden lights you were still able to make out the beautiful hazel green eyes of his up close. His gaze, it was as powerful as anything physical. As if his eyes could caress the back of your neck, brushing the loose hair from it, leaving nothing but shivers on you.

Finally breaking free from it, you sat back with a chuckle.

“Well” you began, “…you obviously haven’t met my ex”

You watched his eyebrows furrow the moment those words exited you. Taking a huge sip of wine, you pressed your lips together.

“He said I fall too fast....” you began, “or care too much...or something”

Revisiting that dark period in your life was akin to walking a thousand miles backwards, just to get your heart pricked by sharp, rusted nails. The mere image of it forced you to gulp more wine.

“Well, Where is he now?”

Bruce asked softly. Taking a third sip, you looked back at him:

“You mean after he cheated on me?” You asked, chuckling sadly, “…He flew off somewhere…with his new girlfriend” you said, sighing “Apparently I was too predictable and doesn’t play hard to get”

“Then…” Bruce began, “…what about you throwing punches at Henderson?”

“That?” You widened your eyes, “Oh that’s just the whiskey”

Laughter ensued, breaking the tension between the two once again. Truthfully, you felt much at ease right then.

“I bet you don’t have that problem, playing the field and all” You said, holding on to your wine glass. Bruce smiled.

“Ah! Getting too attached doesn’t help anyone, I guess” he answered. And for some reason, you could empathize. Now more than ever.

“True...” you agreed, looking at him. However, that warmth you carried for him was also enlarged, and suddenly emotion overpowered logic.

“I know this is the corniest you’ve heard always….” you paused, “…but when the right person comes along...it’s so worth it” you continued, taking a deep, shaky breath, “…even if your heart gets broken into millions...billions of pieces”

Your eyes locked onto his with every word you uttered, and to your surprise, he did not look away. For a moment, his gaze on you translated into deep belief. For a Moment, his gaze dismissed every other occupant in the restaurant, except you. For a moment his silence proved that anything was possible.

Until you realized, never was life that easy.

“But like I said…” You added, blinking away the heavy stare, “... it’s not your problem” You said, fiddling with your clutch purse mindlessly. “Actually I-” “Whoops!” You sniggered when the clutch purse dropped out of your hand. Laughing together, you both found yourselves bending down to search for it.

“Let Me get that-” Bruce volunteered, as he spotted the purse, grabbing it for you.

“Thank you” You murmured shyly, reaching out your hand to take it.

The mere act of a clutch purse being transferred from one hand to another never felt this intense. A circus act commenced inside your stomach all the sudden. The manner you found yourself blushing, certainly proved his effect as a whole. The warmth of his palm earlier, it brought protection and comfort in the time of danger. However, the slightest brush of his fingers just now, it birthed confetti of butterflies, causing the internal circus to go berserk.

As he looked you up and down, you prayed he did not notice the red on your cheeks. For this man had such power over you, it was sheer chaos. But a beautifully, addictive one.

“Your Dress...” he breathed, making your own breath shake, “You look very-” “Bruce!” A seductive voice emerged out of the blue, as you realized it was his date walking over to his side. Being one of Gotham’s most well known supermodels, she exuded beauty with her tall and thin frame and brunette locks flowing down her shoulders. Wrapping her goddess-like arms around his neck, she whispered a few words to him before heading over to the restroom area. Compared to her, you felt like a little cinder block. “She’s beautiful...” you muttered hoarsely, looking down at your wine. You heard him sigh uncomfortably. “Listen...” Bruce began, causing your heart to long for hope, “I-” “Would you like anything else, Sirs?” The emotional roller coaster unexpectedly finished its ride when an over enthusiastic waiter’s loud voice caused everyone in the table to look up. “No, Thank you...” Fox said, slowly getting up, “Actually, I think might head home now” “And I will join you” You said, standing up in a flash, “Ladies, Gentleman...” you nodded to the Heads, “...Mr. Wayne” Giving him a slight nod, you turned to follow Lucius Fox. You dared not turn back to see his face. That would just show weakness. Just walk away, it was the right thing to do. The longer you will linger, the stronger your attachment will be. The stronger your need to love him will be. And what would be the use of strengthening that existing love, when the odds were always in the way?

Seduced by the women with the highest standards of beauty and power, you obviously must seem like nothing for a man such as he. You were simply charity, the employee in need. Perhaps your ex was right, You really were no fun.

Besides, being jealous was never your right, not especially when you did not even pour your heart out. And when you would not even consider doing so, being tied to morals, ethics and rules?

And if he even had not shown you his own heart, what gave you the right to be angry with anyone, except yourself?

You asked yourself, why were you wasting your time?

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Allison’s eyes grew wide with excitement the moment you arrived home.

Clutching onto her bowl of popcorn, she watched you close the door and lean against it to look back at her. Though her hair was in a messy bun, she still managed to pull off ‘homely cool’.

“So...” she began softly, “How did it go?” Silent, You took a deep breath, not knowing where to begin. “Well-” “-Did you make Wayne cream his pants?” Allison cut you off with glee, seemingly over excited. Jaw dropped, your face contorted with disgust. “Ali! …ewww” You exclaimed, seeing her perverted expression and suggestive eyebrows. Truthfully the thought of it brought some laughter soon after. You felt calmer. “Well, did he?” Allison was persistent. Pushing yourself from the door, you began to take off your shoes, “Well…” You paused, “I think he liked what he saw” you said smiling shyly. “Yeah?” Her excitement still intact, as you sat next to her.

“I think so…” you said, reminiscing those precious moments his blessed eyes watched only you, “…but…” you paused, “it doesn’t matter…”, Sighing, you shook your head frantically, “…cause he was with a Supermodel tonight so...” “Supermodel? Sweetie, I’m sorry” laying her head on your shoulder, Allison sighed in response. Patting her on the lap, you got up. Just like that, the little giddy excitement between two women suddenly crashed and burned upon knowing they were hopeless going against a supermodel.

“Hey! by the way…” Allison began, “…did you give money for Mrs. Hernandez’s going away party?”

You froze.

“Shit!” You cried out, “ I forgot!”

Mrs. Hernandez was one of the lovely tenants in the apartment building who will be moving out this week to go live with her son. All tenants were supposed to pool in for the going away party, today being the deadline. Opening your purse with haste, you groaned. “Damn it! I don’t have any change...” Of course you did not. Not when you gave away your last note to Clara yesterday. With the current use of cards and e-payment, you rarely used cash these days.

“Me neither, Sweetie” Allison replied, mindlessly staring at the television. You sighed. Transferring the money will not do as it wont be convenient for the others. And being a bad tenant was the last thing on your mind.

“Screw it!” You said, “I’ll just go get some now” Running to your room, you proceeded to change.

“Cool…” Allison uttered quietly, until she remembered, “By the way, can you also get milk?”Allison yelled to your room, “WE’RE OUT ALREADY!!”

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If wearing an elegant dress brought out the glamorous woman in you, then leggings and an oversized black hoodie brought out the homebody. With the hood over your head, you dug your hands in the deep pockets whilst standing at the line for the ATM. What was taking so long?

Almost 11pm, yet the neighborhood was bustling more than usual. In fact, it fascinated you. Younger folk in higher numbers lingered hanging about by the Bodega. You wondered if a party was taking place somewhere nearby, as most of them wore clothes with a similar vibe. Some danced to the loud music that played, some drank sitting on the pavement, while some lined up in front of you in the ATM line. Was it a party? Or a flashmob? Or were you suddenly intruding the filming of a music video? It simply seemed so unrealistic. Could it be the sake and wine were forcing you to imagine all this?

Then moment your phone started to ring, you knew you were not imagining. Not when the phone vibrated in your hand, not when the name of the caller caused you to breath deeply.

“Mr.Wayne?”

His breath over the phone sent shivers down your spine so subtly. Attraction was indeed a strange phenomenon.

“Hey! Did you go home okay?”

He asked. Nodding, you looked around.

“Of course.” You replied, “Mr. Fox was kind enough to drop me straight home”

“Good. Good,” As he muttered in a rush, you heard him exhale, “ Listen, can we talk? ”

Nervousness took you over with a sudden burn in your face. What must he wish to say? Was he attempting to confirm what you already dread about? Was he fully acknowledging your desires to be futile and hopeless? You kept quiet as he continued:

“About tonight…I really-” he paused, “Where are you?” The loud cheers of some of the younger folk interrupted the conversation. Amongst the crowd, a lone figure walked over to the middle of the street.

“I’m at the Bodega nearby my place” you replied, trying to be nonchalant with him. However, somehow that lone figure standing managed to capture your attention, "Huh! Strange...”

“What is it?”

Your eyebrows furrowed the moment the figure turned to face your direction. Familiarity was quite strong in him. “There’s this guy here…” you said, “… who looks just like-”

You froze, “Oh no!” You breathed.

The moment the figure effortlessly pulled out a portable machine gun from his oversized long coat, it clearly dawned on you on who he really was:

“Mr. Slender?” You muttered to yourself.

Pointing the weapon upwards, loud and rapid shots were fired, causing panic amongst the public. The shock forced your hands to lose control, almost dropping your phone to the ground.

“Hello? Hello?”

You heard Bruce loud and clear, yet you were not in the right state of mind to respond. The chaos, certainly forced your heart to beat right out of your chest. The beating, increased without any prior announcement shocked you, as if the live, blood pumping organ might literally fall out of your flesh vessel.

“EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND, NOW!”

Mr.Slender bellowed, finally revealing his masculine and controlled voice. The public, including those inside the Bodega made their way to the ground. With Mr. Slender’s reinforcements inside the building, it was made sure no one were to reach out for law enforcement any time soon. Just when it seemed all had complied to his command, one obstinate young man rose up quickly.

“Hey man!” The man cried out, walking over to him, “Be cool…Be-”

“I SAID ON THE GROUND!”

Blood curdling screams erupted from the crowd when Mr.Slender brutally fired at the man, sending him flying back, falling on to the ground like a bloody piece of meat. Given the continuous reactions from the people nearby, he was certainly dead. Emptiness and fear swallowed you whole upon witnessing this.

“DON’T EVEN THINK OF BEING STUBBORN!! ”

Mr.Slender yelled out, brandishing his gun around, “MY DEMANDS ARE SIMPLE...”

He continued, “I’M LOOKING FOR ONE PARTICULAR PERSON…” he said, “AND I WILL NOT LEAVE…UNTIL THAT PERSON STEPS FORWARD!!”

Scenes such as these, they were never expected but only imagined in modes of fiction. Be it novels or films. However, when you truly got to taste it in the rusty reality, only then did you realize the gravity of its horror. And only then at that fateful moment, did you genuinely fear for your precious life.

Especially when the person he was looking for, was you.

——————————————————

Chapter 6 HERE

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agreementtale · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 25: Prepare yourself

“Stop wasting your food” came the familiar screech.

“Hm?” they turned around, trying to find him on the snow “You’re back!”

“Yes, I’m back” they quickly put the boot down and allowed him to get comfortable “And I saw you giving that away! You can’t do that, do you know how hard is to get food around here?”

“I already ate today” They were carrying the boot since he left, they hoped it still had a lingering warmth on it, ice shouldn’t be pleasant on roots.

“Then keep it for tomorrow” They wanted to ask about Mom, to know how she was doing now that they were gone.

“He was hungry now, it didn’t cost me anything” But if his only concern was them feeding the homeless, they could conclude that Mom was mostly alright.

“It costs you tomorrow’s food” And if Mom wasn’t alright, did they even wanted to know? They wouldn’t come back to the Ruins, not without breaking the barrier first.

“Tomorrow I’ll have breakfast with Sans again” And it would be a long journey until they broke the barrier.

His spooked expression caught their attention “You what?”

“Or is it lunch?” why was he surprised? They had talked with the brothers a few times now, and Sans had shown no intention to kill them, was it so weird they went to Grillby’s? “Is it lunch if I haven’t eaten breakfast yet?”

“What do you mean you had breakfast with Sans? Didn’t I told you not to do anything stupid?” Or he could just be Flowey, and be finding something to complain no matter what.

“It wasn’t stupid, it was free food”

“There is no thing as free food! You gave him something in return”

“He paid” Not actually, but he did put it on his tab.

“Yes, but I know you, you talked to him! What did you say?”

“We… traded jokes”

“And?” And they started a passionate rant that they didn’t remember all the details.

“He told me a bit about monsters” they don’t think they let it slip anything too bad or that could be used against them “And I told him a bit about humans”

“You should never tell him those things!” Flowey snatched their finger from their cheek, as if he could emphasize his words with the sudden action.

“He already knows I want to befriend everyone” They got their finger out of his vines with ease “he don’t believe me anyway”

“You didn’t tell him about the barrier, did you?” He was quiet, like he was afraid someone was listening.

“Nope, I’m not that stupid” There wasn’t, the homeless guy was long gone, there was no one even close to them.

“Yes you are” now he was just being petty “but anyway–/”

“Anyway” they interrupted whatever rude insult he was going to make by walking faster “he told me I’m smart, so me being stupid is just your opinion”

“…” eyed them warily, if they didn’t know any better they would think he was looking for signs of lying “He was being sarcastic”

They wanted to roll their eyes at him “Nope” was that so hard to believe? “he actually said I was smart”

“That doesn’t sound right”

They were about to retort when a blurry something entered their field of vision, they only had time to turn a bit to the side, taking Flowey out of the way before the impact.

They were thrown on the ground, just like the blurry someone.

“Hey!” a yellow and black shirt, instead of blurry was now covered in snow “Watch where you’re going” A single yellow stripe on a black shirt, with a little yellow monster inside “You wanna die today?” He still yelled from the snow.

“Not really” they remembered him, even if he seemed to be older that when they first met “I’ll prefer to die some other day, but thank you for asking” they got up, patting themselves and Flowey.

“Are you messing with me?” He was still on the ground, they got closer to help him.

“Why do you have to be like this?” their brother grumbled almost inaudible.

“No, I’m just new here, you can call me Weird Puppy” They extended their hand to help their friend.

“You are messing with me!” He somehow managed to get up and away from them in a single movement.

“Yes” Flowey said in a tired voice “Offer your hand to the kid with no arms, very clever”

“What – no!” Oh, god, why did they extended their hand to him? “I’m so sorry! I just wanted to help you get up” How could they remember being friends with him and forget this ‘detail’?

“I don’t need your help!” He shouted, still agitated “I don’t need anyone’s help” and with this he ran away.

“He looked distressed” they couldn’t help but think out loud.

“They just got thrown in the ground by a stranger”

“Oh…” he was still a kid, right “yeah, that would make anyone distressed, but why did they run away without even saying their name?”

“Monster Kid”

“No, I know their name, I just wanted to make a conversation so we could be friends” He and the little bunny were the only kids they saw in Snowdin.

“With someone you just pushed to the ground and as far as they know, wanted them dead, but was too coward to call them to an encounter”

That wasn’t what happened.

Why would he think they would kill him? They were also wearing stripes…

“You talk like making friends is impossible here”

“It is when you start by tackling someone to the ground” … he had a point… but they were not ready to admit defeat just yet.

“Tell this to the Froggits or the Vegetoid on the Ruins I made friends with” in this world tackling someone was a completely valid way to make friends.

“Vegetoid never attacked you” yes he did “she introduced you as her child” oh… no, that was just the second time, the first time they had died.

“Then to the Dogi or Greater, or Lesser, they all attacked me”

“They are not your friends, they just tolerated you because you wear stripes” that was not true! He saw how they clicked with Lesser dog.

“Now you just want to hurt my feelings” Stripes or not, that had been a nice game of fetch, and nothing he could say would convince them otherwise.

“I’m your only friend, you should listen to me” Oh, so that was the point he was so desperately trying to make?

“Ok, ok, I’m listening” if he wanted them to stroke his ego “Please drop your fabled knowledge, my dearest and only friend in this whole world” they would oblige.

“I hate you” and annoy him in the meantime.

“What a terrible burden to keep an idiot such as myself alive for so long!” said putting a hand to their forehead in their best acting voice.

“I really want to kill you right now” the irritated way his vines twitched was so funny!

“On the dreadful day of your death I’m sure you’ll go straight to Heaven” They put the boot on the ground before he decided to smack them “Because you atoned for all your sins here on Earth, by putting up with a vile and annoying being” but made sure to walk in circles around him while monologing.

“You’re not even making sense” but still keeping enough distance his vines wouldn’t reach them, in case he tried.

“Oh, sweet relief the day you are finally free from the claws of stupidity” a snowball straight to their face stopped them mid rant, they looked at him confused.

“Stupidity, I’m listening” he was smiling, holding a snowball, when did he had the time to make one? Two actually, they had just lowered him there, there was no time!

“Oh no, you didn’t” cleaning snow from their mouth, confusion morphed into determination.

“Keep going, I’m listening” still staring at their eyes, he slowly made another snowball, as if he hadn’t proved he was able to produce one in less than two seconds..

“And” the attack was expected, they dodged one snowball and another “So you can” But a vine moved the snow near their foot, distracting them enough to be hit by other two balls.

“I can what?” asked him sweetly “~I can’t hear you over all that snow~”

That was all the taunting they needed “Oh, it’s on!”

“Snowdin is nice” they said while laying on the snow, they were in the middle of the city, being goofy and all, and no one had tried interfere on their snow fight.

“Don’t get used to it” Flowey was looking away, keeping guard while they caught their breath “If you are really doing this, it will only get harder from here”

“I’m sure we can figure a way out” They enjoyed the fresh snow on the ground, while looking at the small flakes falling lazily on the ‘sky’.

It was just a cave ceiling, but with the diffuse illumination of the reflecting stones, it was clearly day outside.

The light in Snowdin was just like a, slightly dark, day in a cloudy weather.

“You don’t understand” His tone of voice was concerning.

They turned to him with their full attention.

“There are places, really bad places, places you are always being watched and can’t escape” he looked at them, the playful mood from before long gone “You can’t go there, you have to listen to me when I tell you where to go, so you can avoid getting stuck” he avoided their eyes, looking at the ground instead “I’m not strong, if you don’t listen to me, then there is nothing I can do”

“Ok, I’ll listen to you” They wanted him to stop worrying so much “What do you want to do now?” He wasn’t strong enough, but they knew they would be when they needed to.

“Stay in Snowdin a bit more” Easy done, but why would he want that?

“Are you sure?” They would prefer to keep going, but a bit of peace before the storm was welcomed.

“You want to make friends, right? You’ll need practice” And they knew that if Snowdin was calm, Waterfalls would be one hell of a storm “And more important, do you see that house over there?” he pointed to the brothers house “Never go past there”

The path to fight Papyrus.

And the barrier ahead.

“Ok, we will stay here for a while” they blew the snowflakes from their face “Does that makes you happy?”

“I don’t get happy” sure he didn’t.

“Does that makes you less annoyed?” They started to move, to make a snow angel and decorate the city, everyone passing the main road would be able to see it.

They could hear his eyes rolling in the tone of his voice “Sure, why not”

“I love you, brother” they said truthfully.

“Whatever” They chose to hear this as ‘Me too’, it was not like he was going to admit it anytime soon.

And maybe, just maybe, they were expecting too much.

He couldn’t feel love as a flower, or so he told them. But since they got here, he had been nothing but kind to them, in his own way.

And he proved he cared several times, so maybe ‘not feeling love’ was just the way he chose to interpret it? A way to cope, to exaggerate the fact so he could accept and move on?

They had done something similar after all, back on the – Cold, cold, cold!

Achoo!

“Get out of the snow, stupid, do you want to catch a cold?” the whole body sneeze forced them to sit down.

“Is just a sneeze, Flowey” they patted the excess of snow out of their neck.

“And next thing you know you are bed ridden and can’t breathe” now he was the one being dramatic “Get up, now”

“But it’s so comfy!” they laid down again, nor ready to abandon their snow angel “it isn’t even that cold” magic snow was the perfect temperature to lay onto.

“I’m telling Mom”

…

Low blow.

“Ok, ok… I’m going…”

“You’re not moving”

With a unhappy moan they got up “There” said opening their arms to make a point “Happy?”

“Less annoyed” he smiled as they picked the boot “Now go there, the heat of the bar should keep you warm enough”

It should, standing near the Grillby’s should warm up both of them, and hey, he was the one to suggest they stayed in the city a little longer, right?

If they happened to find more people to introduce themselves to, it was an added bonus!

______________________

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#AgreementTale #undertale #AGF!Human #AGF!Flowey #AGF!MK #fanfiction #archieve of our own #long fic

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reluctantly-plus-ultra · 5 years ago

Text

Rei (PART TWO)

I literally finished my university paper a day early so I would have time to write this up and keep giving you guys the Good Content™. Thanks for the overwhelming amount of support on part one, everybody!

-When Rei first tells them her plan for taking down Endeavor, they don’t think there’s any way it’ll actually work.

-The LOV has always operated as a physical unit, out to kick ass and take names. They didn’t band together for subtle espionage and demolishing reputations through intellect.

-But Rei’s adamant that going into a brawl won’t accomplish anything. After all, even if they did manage to beat him in a fight, Endeavor be seen as a martyr to the public, still a symbol of hope, the number one hero that defended them to the end. That’s not what they’re going for. Beyond that, the only way to keep him from rising again, in that sense, is to kill him, and while Rei Todoroki wants some well-deserved justice, she doesn’t want his life on her hands.

-So, instead, she suggests ruining his image. They’ll air out all the sheets of the Todoroki household, let the world know once and for all the truth behind the man they’ve placed their faith in. Force him to step down, allow him to finally reach that number one spot that he’s ruined the lives of her family to achieve, and then strip it from him with the evidence of the horrendous acts he committed to get there.

-”He lit this fire,” Rei says coldly, and the chill in the room doesn’t come from her quirk, “Now he can burn in it.”

-Personally, Dabi still wants to torch Endeavor’s ass straight to hell, but even he has to acknowledge that Rei has a point. Their odds of success are a lot higher going into this from a tactical perspective. The rest of the league can at least somewhat come to that conclusion as well, but there’s one main problem barring the way.

-Kurogiri is the one to point it out, asking how they’re going to get evidence of events that happened so many years ago. At the best, they have two witness testimonies, and there’s not a single court around that would take the word of a hospitalized woman and a well-known villain over that of their number one hero.

-And it’s then that Rei’s face hardens into an expression that none of them have seen before, delicate hands balling into tight fists, jaw clenched.

- “I can get you that evidence,” She claims easily enough, as if it’s something that can be pulled from thin air, “But I’m going to need a laptop, or a computer-”

-The very nice thing about co-inhabiting with criminals that have loose morals is that they can get you things very quickly, and typically for free. Rei has a laptop sitting in front of her before the night is up, and is furiously typing as soon as they get her logged in.

-It’s common knowledge in the league that Rei has a habit of mumbling to herself when deep in thought; this has been particularly prominent while working on the Endeavor plan

-And this has actually been pretty unsettling for a lot of the members, because for someone so sweet, Rei has a novel of shit that Endeavor needs to atone for, and she hasn’t forgotten a single insulting incident in twenty-four years.

-What this means is that sometimes, when she’s working deep on the planning, divulging information about the number one hero, she’ll give them a list of his weaknesses, things that will set him off, ways that they can target him that nobody else is aware of (potentially even Endeavor himself)

-But then after that, she’ll start listing incidents. Her eyes will gloss over, and the words will just start tumbling out of her mouth as she crosses situations out of that novel, offenses that are being reciprocated through her sabotaging the man

-Her last round of info had made up for six incidents, and while the league had gradually been getting used to these episodes, the last one had packed a punch.

- “The time you forced Touya to train so hard, he broke three fingers and you still made him keep going for an hour after.”

- Any time she mentions incidents with Touya, the tension in the room goes up four notches. Dabi can’t believe some of the details she remembers, can barely remember them himself sometimes, but his ring finger on his right hand has been crooked ever since that day, and it serves as a stark reminder of the past they’ve endured.

-While she works at the laptop, though, the things she mutters are not incidents, but random sequences of letters and numbers, her hands moving in sync with the mumbled symbols.

-And it takes them a while to pick up on it, but these memorized segments are the extremely distorted weblinks to clearly self-made web pages, at least six or seven in total.

- She doesn’t stumble once. Not on a single number, not in any of it, and every single one of those links are complete gibberish, entirely disconnected from one another.

-The web pages are filled with images, all of them old, all of them pre-dating Rei’s hospital admittance

-And it’s with this that Dabi has to leave, storming out of the warehouse, and Rei gets this carefully blank look on her face, because they’re both reliving nightmares, and they’ve barely started scrolling the pages.

-There are scanned copies of journal entries written in different coloured crayons and a wobbly hand, more entries on some of the other web pages done much steadier and in pencil, but with the same printing. There are photos of bruises, scars, burns, four different children, one woman’s gaunt face. Personal accounts, typed and handwritten, short and blurry-quality video clips of Endeavor’s “training”. It’s a montage of horror, carefully collected and dispersed across the web through links that meant nothing, that would never come up as a result from a search engine, spread across multiple pages so that even if one page were found and deleted, there were many more to replace it.

-But none of them have been found, none of them have been taken down because Endeavor, man that he was, had assumed that because his wife never raised her fists, she wasn’t fighting back.

-It’s in that moment that it clicks with everyone else, too: Rei Todoroki didn’t come up with this plan to take down Endeavor in the few months they’ve known her- she’s been planning this for years.

-The way that Rei takes all of this in, and then almost too-calmly asks Kurogiri if he can please make her a cup of tea is terrifying, even to a room full of criminals.

-They all fall asleep restlessly that night, reminded of their own pasts and the demons that have led them to where they are- and as for Rei? Well, she gets to cross another twenty-seven incidents off her list, and when she falls asleep as well, the weight on her chest feels much lighter.

-When Hawks shows up the next day, it’s still early in the morning- early enough for most of the league to still be in bed, and a few hours before his time to patrol. He comes bearing a tin of sweets for Rei, her bitter, dark-haired son (she’s so happy he’s found a friend), and a USB stick.

- “I hear we’re raising hell,” He says cheerily by way of greeting.

-They go through the evidence quietly the hero scrolling through the pages with an increasingly scary look on his face.

-He doesn’t tell Rei what he and Dabi have already hashed out between the night before and six o’clock in the morning- that A) Hawks is definitely a spy, and damn did it ever piss him off to have Dabi out him so easily, because he was sure he had him fooled, B) Dabi won’t out him to the rest of the league so long as Hawks agrees to help Rei, and C) None of this can go through the Commission. Absolutely none of it.

-They’re both very aware that if the Commission gets their hands on this kind of info, it will be swept under the rug faster than either man can blink, and the people instigating the problem will probably disappear. Hawks has heard them use the sentence “It’s for the greater good” far too many times to cover up too many things, and a sickened part of him doesn’t want to consider if maybe they’ve used those exact same words to cover up situations like this before.

-And damn it all, he agrees even though he knows it’ll probably come around and bite him in the ass- because at this rate, if the Commission catches wind of him being affiliated with this plot in any way after it all breaks loose, he’ll be on the rack. But he tries not to consider what he has to lose, and instead focuses on the fact that he can help these people, and maybe others as well. Who knows how many “heroes” have ruined lives just like Endeavor and walked free.

-And really, in the heart of it all, he wants to help the Todoroki family. Sure, he doesn’t know Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto very well, but Rei has slowly warmed over a portion of his heart that he didn’t realize was lacking a mother figure, and Dabi means more to him than he’d like to admit. Growing up, he was never given the liberty of being attached to people, tangible people who were his equals and not his icons. Now, having grown so fond of these two in particular, he’s beginning to understand why some people are willing to lay everything on the line for family.

-So he goes through the evidence and does his best to ignore how Rei strokes her hands through Dabi’s hair as the two of them watch as well, not entirely sure who the action is meant to comfort more. All the while, he’s trying to match up the man in these entries, the man in these clips and photos, to the man he’s risked his life for, fought beside, trusted wholeheartedly.

-Betrayal has a bitter taste, and it lingers in his mouth.

- He’s just finishing up downloading all the files onto the USB drive, when Rei finally speaks.

- “If this works, you’ll be the new Number One.”

-His hands stumble on the keys, and a sinking sense of melancholy sets in. Quite honestly, Hawks has never aimed for the Number One position in the way that others do. He’s never gone after it like he needed to have the top position or nothing- in fact, he would be happy to settle lower in the top ten then where he is now.

-But there’s really no avoiding it, and while he’s not sure what kind of complications it will have in his career, in his mission, in his growing relationships with both Rei and Dabi, he determines that’s a problem for another day.

-“I’ll be better than him.” Hawks says, the words coming out as more of a promise than the assurance he intended. Rei’s answering smile is caught somewhere between satisfied, bittersweet, and proud.

- “Good.”

-He takes the USB stick, gives Rei a quick hug and demands that she eat at least three of the chocolates herself before passing them around to everyone else (because he absolutely knows that she will) and leaves a shared parting look with Dabi that means everything and nothing all at once.

-Rei notices of course, but it’s really not her place to pry and she’s honestly not even sure that Touya himself has any idea what his current situation is with the winged hero, so she chooses to let the matter drop. The fact that the chocolates Hawks brought her happen to be her son’s favourite doesn’t entirely go over her head either, but she chooses to let that slide as well

- In the end, true to their collective nature, the LOV still agrees to also attempt a physical attack on the Number One hero, if only to bolster their media image. After all, they’ve been lying low long enough that the hero world needs a reminder that they’re still alive and kicking.

-And honestly, maybe just a little, they also want to give the world an image of Endeavor being taken down in more ways than one.

-Dabi volunteers immediately, that much kind of being a given, but everyone’s surprised when Rei offers to go as well. So far, everyone aside from the league and Hawks is still under the impression that Rei’s hospitalized- her image still isn’t tarnished, and if she wanted to, she could walk away from the league that minute and never suffer consequences for it. The instant her face is shown in correlation with them? There’s no going back from that.

-But she’s adamant, and it’s with some reluctance that they give in. In some ways, it’s only fair- this is personal for her after all, so it makes sense that she’d want to be involved. They settle on letting the mother and son handle the fire hero, and make plans to have everyone else ready to back them up if needs be.

-Besides, they’re out to absolutely destroy his image, and what better way to do that than have Endeavor’s own family do so? Bonus points for dramatic flair, nobody will be forgetting this for a while.

-Before long, it’s the night before the whole operation, and everyone’s restless as hell. Twice and Toga watch five consecutive episodes of some awful cake-decorating show that neither of them can stand before calling it a night, Spinner’s gone for most of the evening, and in a rare show of caring, Shigaraki puts down a steaming cup of soothing tea in front of Rei, the kind that she always steeps for him when he starts getting antsy and in his head. It’s a kind gesture from the young man, and she makes sure to smile warmly when she thanks him for it, pleased when he chooses to stay and sit at the table with her. They don’t make conversation, but just knowing that the other is around is comforting in itself.

-Rei ends up staying up later than he does, and it’s with a somewhat awkward and unpracticed motion that the man reaches out to pat her hand before heading to his own room, the action jerky like a rusty machine, but still appreciated. Rei smiles into her cup when she notices that the leader of their rag-tag little group has been gradually getting more tactile with those around him, wearing those gloves she made for him at almost all times. He still has a long way to go before he’ll be able to handle true contact, but she can see the effort he’s making, and every little bit of progress marks a new milestone.

-Dabi also spends the night away from the league, but Rei isn’t too worried about her eldest child. She knows exactly where he’ll end up, knows that he’s in good hands. After all, there’s probably nowhere safer for him to be than with the one other person in this world who cares for him just as much as she does.

-And on that note, Hawks spends most of the night discreetly flying all across Japan, dropping off printed files of incriminating evidence under an anonymous cover and using several fake emails to reach out to news agencies, freelance journalists, newspapers, magazine editors- anybody he can think of who would take this on as a scoop and spread the proof like wildfire. By the next morning, he knows that he’ll be seeing this stuff all over the media- he just hopes it’s been enough.

-When he returns home to find the door already unlocked, he doesn’t even bother turning on the lights. Instead, he locks the door behind him and makes his way over to the couch, not surprised at all to discover a familiar lanky figure passed out unawares.

-Normally he’d just leave him, maybe toss a blanket over the other man in passing, and continue on his way. But… After tonight, everything was going to change, and who knew what was going to happen to all of them, yes, but especially him and Dabi and this… Well, whatever it was that they were building.

-So he wakes the other man up instead, smiling as blue eyes catch on his own, and they talk. They talk about everything Hawks can think of to talk about, every little question he’s ever wanted to know about this mysterious person who’s taken up such a huge portion of his life recently. And for once, Dabi doesn’t meet him with resistance for his curiosity, seeming to have come to the same conclusion.

-Eventually they end up in Hawks’ bed, still just talking, laying side by side. There’s a strange sense of rebellion in the intimacy of it all, and the part of Hawks that has always loved pushing boundaries, fighting his leash, is basking in this. The Commission had wanted him to get close to Dabi, but he doubts they’d intended for him to get close enough to press a brave kiss to the other man’s forehead as they both start drifting off, to be close enough to hear his breath stutter before he hesitantly drapes an arm over the hero’s waist. If they could see him now, they’d expect him to be luring Dabi into some kind of trap, stabbing him in the back after earning his trust.

-But for now, the greatest “fuck you” he can send their way is by choosing to be gentle over violent, by choosing this person over his mission, by going after what he wants for once, damn it-

- “You won’t be there tomorrow, will you?”

-No, no he won’t be. As a hero, if he were present, he’d be expected to step in, and that’s the last thing he wants to do here, especially if it means facing off against not only Dabi, but Rei as well. The thought of even acting threatening to the woman is enough to turn his stomach.

-And honestly, if anyone had ever told Hawks that at twenty three and well into his professional career, he would find himself cradling a villain in his bed and whispering promising words of encouragement about the upcoming takedown of his childhood idol, he would never have believed them.

-Eventually they fall asleep this way, and Dabi has never really known, in all his life, what safety feels like but he’s pretty sure this is it.

-Skipping ahead to the next morning, Endeavor is already out on patrol when the news bombs start dropping. And of course, the reaction from the public is… Explosive, to say the least.

-There’s a lot of shock and a lot of horror, and absolute outrage. The only thing to really do in a situation like this, as far as news is concerned, is to go for a follow-up, so there are people all over the city trying to track down their Number One to get some answers.

-Meanwhile, Endeavor has no clue this is happening. At this point, the worst part of his day is not yet the fact that his hero career will be over in the span of a week, but that he ran into a familiar crispy edgelord and just… Doesn’t have time for this shit again.

-He expects Dabi to start monologuing to some degree, so when the villain starts off with, “Do you remember me?” it’s not really any kind of surprise.

-But it’s when Dabi responds to his irritated retort with a more firm, “No- do you remember me?” that Endeavor halts in his tracks a little bit. He’s not entirely sure what this creepy asshole is going for, but it’s setting him on edge, like there’s something in this situation that he has missed observing.

-And, for starters, he’s missed seeing the film crew behind him, although he will notice them eventually.

-But then this criminal starts talking about his children. Shouto, Natsuo, Fuyumi. He talks about how Shouto was kept separate from them, how he isolated the other two like they were never good enough, how he pushed his youngest so hard, the boy cried himself to sleep every night. Dabi starts listing events, scenarios, as if he gave a shit about them, as if he was there-

-And that’s when it clicks.

-When it does, he just outright cuts the other man off, a scowl working its way onto his face, disgust curdling in his gut. Part of him can’t believe it, that his long lost son has returned to him in the form of a ghoul, and the other part doesn’t accept it at all.

- “You’re not Touya.”

-At first, Dabi stares at him incredulously and starts to laugh, because how the hell could he not be, given the list of offences he just spouted off, but Endeavor corrects him, voice chillingly cold. “You might’ve been, but you’re not anymore. I gave you that name, and I can just as easily take it away. I set you up for greatness, and you chose this?!”

-The rage is bubbling over now, and the look on Dabi’s face has gone from one of irritated humour to a sheer blank slate. “You’re not my son. No family of mine would be so weak as to fall into villainy.”

-And, well, that line basically digs his grave for him, because from out of the shadows steps Rei Todoroki, and in the ways her eyes are blazing, one could’ve sworn she’d stolen Endeavour’s Hellfire right out of his hands.

-Instantaneously, half of Japan is losing their collective shit. In the span of six whole hours, Endeavor’s been exposed, Touya Todoroki is back from the dead (and is, as it turns out, one of the most prominent LOV members), and Endeavor’s wife has not only escaped the hospital she was admitted in, but has apparently sided with the villains as well? And this is all being filmed on live television?

-Every building with a functional TV is tuned in. Hawks is in line for coffee when he catches sight of the news channel and decides he’s going to slow down for once in his life, and not take it to go. Natsuo is watching the whole thing go down while munching on a bowl of cereal in his apartment, and as shocking as the whole situation is, it’s immensely satisfying as well.

-Shouto Todoroki watches from the dorm common room, and nobody knows what to say.

-And let’s just talk about Aizawa for a moment, shall we?

-Aizawa is a stoic man of few words, and even fewer needs in life. He’s simple, pragmatic, a slightly pessimistic rationalist through experience, and pretty laid back as far as most things go.

-But you don’t ever fuck around with his students.

-If anyone is going to react poorly about this, it is Shouta Aizawa, hands down. Unlike Hawks, Aizawa has never looked up to Endeavor as a hero. He’s never even liked the guy. And therefore, he has nothing to lose when his manageable contempt for the hero escalates to seering, undiluted hatred. Aizawa does not have a fuck to give; Endeavor just made it onto his shit-list.

-And the worst part of it is that he didn’t really suspect anything. He probably would’ve assumed that Endeavor was hard on his son, but he would never have guessed even remotely close to everything that’s been uncovered. And this is Shouto, Shouto who is always so polite and aloof, and so eerily unshakable for a boy his age.

-Hell, his classmates just got him to partake in his first Disney marathon four days ago, and he couldn’t stop grinning all the way through Frozen. The boy’s made so much progress in being here, has been finally opening up and making friends- but now he’s staring blankly at the TV screen while the news feeds roll, and Aizawa is literally quaking he is so pissed off.

-So while the rest of his students gather somewhat uncomfortably in the common room, watching the television with wide eyes, all of them clearly trying to decide between going to comfort the youngest Todoroki and leaving him be, Aizawa walks in with an extra blanket and two mugs of tea and just… Chills with him? The rest of the class is shook.

-And Aizawa doesn’t say anything either. He just gestures towards the TV and asks if Todoroki would like it left on, and when the boy gives him a silent nod back, he’s content to leave it at that.

-Gradually, the rest of class 1-A begins to gather as well, quietly collecting around their shaken classmate. The couch is not near big enough for all of them, but they make it work.

-Midoriya’s curled into Todoroki’s other side, Iida and Uraraka sitting by his feet on the floor. Surprisingly enough, Bakugou chooses to stand, but directly behind where Todoroki’s seated on the sofa, hovering at his back and looking silently livid, which is even worse than when he’s loud. There’s students gathered around on the floor, standing like the blond, sitting on the arm of the couch like Kaminari is perched.

-And it’s bad enough going through the Endeavor twist, but when Dabi reveals himself as Touya, Todoroki just blanches. There’s a million things running across his face all at once, and half of them are crushed.

-Even Aizawa doesn’t really know how to react to that, and the room falls into a hushed silence until Bakugou finally speaks up.

- “I can’t believe your fucking brother kidnapped me, Icy Hot.”

-And then suddenly, noise. Kirishima is squawking and smacking Bakugou’ arm and telling him not to be insensitive, and Midoriya is overanalyzing, and Aoyama’s saying something about the woods and the Summer Camp attack, but nobody can really hear him-

-And over it all, Todoroki is laughing. It’s not an entirely wholehearted laugh, but it’s a laugh nonetheless.

-When Rei steps up, though, that laughter fades quickly. Suddenly, Shouto Todoroki is four years old again, watching his mother face his raging inferno of a father, and all the previous boisterous life in the room gets sucked out at the sight.

-Throughout all of this, Aizawa’s been trying to keep his distance somewhat. Shouto’s never been a very affectionate student or individual in general, and neither is the erasing-quirk hero. But seeing how tiny and frail his student appears, shrinking in on himself as the drama keeps unfolding- well, Shouta doesn’t hesitate to put a comforting arm over the boy’s shoulders, noting with approval that Midoriya has snagged one of Todoroki’s hands as well, and is trying to keep him grounded.

-He gets a few notifications that he’s being paged to head out onto the scene, but he ignores them. Aizawa’s priorities are and always have been his students. If some other hero cares enough about hauling Endeavor’s ass out of trouble, they can rush in and help him, but Aizawa’s never been shy about making his opinions clear. He’s right where he needs to be, and he’s not moving.

-Rei is not afraid.

-That’s the first thing she realizes when she makes a move to stand by Touya, and sees Enji’s eyes widen in disbelief. She has stood in this exact position so many times, has stood before this man on too many occasions to be afraid of the wrath in his eyes. She is not afraid, she has evened the playing field, and she will not let him break her again.

-The worst part of the whole thing isn’t even seeing him again, meeting like this with the remains of a shattered family falling down around them. The worst part is that he sees her, narrows his eyes, and tells her to get out of the way. The first words out of his mouth are an order, same as they’ve always been. And right now? She has no intention of complying. Never again.

-When she doesn’t move, he repeats himself, angrier this time. He’s pouring flames, a spectacle that would have instilled her with enough terror ten years ago to do whatever he said, and not speak a word. But as she sees Endeavor winding up to attack, eyes fixed on Touya, the young man, her boy, reaching out to pull her behind him-

-Endeavor lunges. Rei shoves. Dabi ends up on the ground well out of harm’s way, and for a moment, the world stops on its axis.

-Enji Todoroki did not bribe over an entire family to win a woman with a run-of-the-mill ice quirk. Were that the case, he never would have wasted his time. Rei was a meek woman with a powerful ability that she barely used, and never in extremes; a little bit of frost to cool a juicebox, a cool hand to soothe a scrape.

-So when an absolutely terrifying, guttural roar of a sentence reaches him, seconds before thousands of pounds worth of ice go shooting up in a very obviously threatening display of power, he’s inclined to stop dead.

- “Don’t you dare touch my son.”

- Rei’s teeth are clenched, eyes hard, hands still braced to fight. The exertion of putting up so much ice hasn’t even seemed to affect her, a simple flick of the finger compared to the full-handed slap she could deliver.

-For once, Endeavor hesitates.

- “You won’t lay a damned hand on him,” She hisses, and a collection of icicles shoot forward at her words, though they stop a good four meters away from where he stands, “I’ll never let you do that again. Because you were right about one thing, Enji- he’s not your son. He’s mine. Natsuo, Shouto, Fuyumi, Touya; they are all my children. You haven’t done a single thing in this life to deserve them.”

-Endeavor sputters at this, but only for a second before Rei’s ice is growing again, eyes cold and dangerous.

-He manages some kind of threat about having her rehospitalized, still unsure how it happened that she was out in the first place. Rei’s smile is not a pleasant one.

- “I don’t recommend you try that.” She says quietly, and in seconds, there’s ice everywhere, Rei unleashing her powers for the first time in well over twenty-five years. It shoots up in an enormous plume, cutting itself short before reaching the reporting camera crew, but forcing Endeavor to leap out of the way and scramble to safety.

-Rei and Dabi slip away in the confusion, regrouping with the league who were hoping to see some more general ass-kicking, but greatly appreciated the display nonetheless.

-And across the rest of Japan, people notice. Hawks chokes on his coffee when the ice flares up, stunned to disbelief that sweet little Rei, who had been so careful preening out his bad feathers that time he got stuck in a storm, was effortlessly capable of this. Natsuo drops his bowl, Shouto sits agape. None of them have ever seen Rei use her powers to her full capability, and the effect is stunning.

- “That explains… A great deal.” Aizawa mumbles eventually, voice barely audible over one Katsuki Bakugou shouting “Fuck yeah!” at the top of his lungs from behind the sofa, very nearly scaring Midoriya off the couch. The news roll continues, but there’s nothing more to see aside from Endeavor shouting at a group of heroes that have arrived suspiciously late.

- “I… Yeah, I guess so.” Todoroki manages. It’s overwhelming, all of it, and while he has a billion questions in his mind, there’s one that sticks out more than the others: what on earth does all of this mean for them now?

What this means is that I guess we’re doing a part three now too, because I don’t know how to cut things short. Sorry guys. Thanks for the support, if you’ve read this far, and hopefully I’ll have some new content up for you all soon!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha dabi #bnha hawks #bnha rei #rei todoroki #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #league of villains #bnha headcanons #bnha prompts #dabihawks

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

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Dragon Dancer Chapter 6: The Walking Dead

Deep down we all know our lives can change in an instant. We all hope it will change for the better. We hope that we’ll find that dream job. That girl we’ve been searching for will show up, smile at us, and agree that she’s was searching for us too. That some prince will come and whisk us away from our problems.

We also know that things can change for the worse. In that same instant, our lives can be taken, as if by some strange magic, and everything we’ve been working for crumbles to dust. All we can do is pick up the pieces, start over again, and be grateful we survived.

When I woke up at the hospital, I couldn’t talk about what happened. Nono, at my bedside, tried to get me to say something about it, but my mind could not form the words to describe the chaos I remembered. If I focused on the memories too much, they overwhelmed me the way the strongest emotions do. They were pure sensation, coming over me faster than my intellect's ability to register them.

There were details, focal points that my mind latched on to after the world went blurry.

The shocked look of a young man’s face when he realized he was going to die the instant before he did. The pulsating waves that were visible when blood oozed from a severed artery. The life and death struggle of a living person between my hands. Despite the clarity of these memories - or maybe because of it - their horrific nature stunned me into speechlessness.

When Nono was unable to get me to answer her questions, she said, “I think we need to get you some help.” She stood up and left me alone in the room.

I laid on my side picking at the thin threads of the soft pillow case. When the door creaked open and footsteps approached, I didn’t turn to look.

“I am Doctor Toyama.” A gentle male voice greeted me.

When he didn’t say anything more, I turned my head to see if he was still there. He had light brown eyes in a young face and a thin well manicured goatee that traced around his upper lip and chin. He wore a lab coat with a tag hanging from his pocket as an identifier. He held a notebook and pen.

That much acknowledgement of his existence was enough to make him smile. “I have a few questions for you. You don’t have to say much about this incident. The College is well aware of many details about Isaac and his… activities here. It’s unfortunate that it had to end up this way.”

He pulled up a chair and sat next to my bed. I averted my eyes from him as he continued to speak. “You’re probably blaming yourself for what happened. I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond. “People here all have a certain percentage of dragon DNA. The higher the percentage the stronger they are. But there is a cost.” He kept his tone soft and clear.

“If someone’s percentage of dragon DNA is too high, it begins to overwrite the human. It grows, much like a cancer and they cease to be recognizable as a human. They turn into what we call a death servitor. That is what happened to Isaac.”

“It happened to Isaac because of what I did though,” I whispered. My throat squeezed shut. My lip trembled. I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t return his gaze.

“Oh? How so?”

I chewed my lip and pressed my face into the pillow.

“I’d really like to know. There are surveillance cameras in the library. As far as we can tell after watching the footage, you walked into a conference room together. The rest is hard to make out but it’s clear you disappear. You went…” He let the sentence hang.

“I wanted to see my family.” I said shakily. Tears wet the pillowcase around my eyes.

“Why? You were only here a day. You miss them already?”

I nodded.

“Hmm…” I hear his pen click. “Did you inform one of your class advisors?.”

“Yeah. He told me that… I couldn’t see my family because the rules said I had to stay on campus… I couldn’t even call them.”

“Ah… I see. You’re very close to them then?”

“Mhm…”

“You must be if you were willing to follow a stranger into the dark on the off chance you might get to see them. Tell me, what do you plan to say to them?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Everything here is secret… right?” I peeked up from the pillow.

“That’s right.” He's writing in his notebook.

“Well, I’d … tell him that there’s a lot of boys here. And they make me nervous.”

He stroked his goatee. “Ah… I see. What else?”

“Everything is really extravagant… and I don’t think I’ll fit in. And that I failed my first exam.” Now that I’m looking at him, he offered me a tissue box. I sat up to accept it.

“Very good.” He made a few more notes “I’ll submit this to the board members and see if they can make a bit of an exception for some forms of communication. It’s… rare we get people like you. Who actually come from loving non-hybrid homes.”

He clicked his pen and put it back into his breast pocket. “But since you still have so much to say to them, that means you didn’t go back to your home, did you? Where did you go?”

“I don’t know where it was. There were others too. They were dressed in Japanese clothes. So maybe Japan?” I blew my nose.

“Japan? Hm…” He made a note. “That’s … odd. Why do you think he would take you there?”

“Maybe that’s where his family lives?” I looked to him for confirmation of my guess.

“His family? I thought you were going to meet yours?” He raised his eyebrows.

I explained. “He said I shouldn’t have failed my test. He said he wanted to test me… before I went home.”

“There was no way you could have known what that meant.” He told me. “You must have … fought hard to escape.” He looked at me expecting me to fill in the blank, but I fell into an abrupt silence. My eyes were downcast. My fingers kneaded at the pillow case.

“Alright…” He said quietly. “What’s one thing you can tell me. Just one.”

My continued silence stretched on.

“Just one thing? I promise, I won’t ask any more questions.”

I didn’t reply but Doctor Toyama continued to sit and wait. My mind remembered, indexed and sorted what happened into a large pile of secrets. There was one memory that I felt comfortable revealing.

“He saved my life. I would’ve died. But when he held me, my wound healed. He brought me back before he turned into that monster.”

He watched me wipe away tears, keeping his expression neutral. “I see. Thank you.” He made another note. “I’ll leave you now. Feel free to contact me any time.” He left his card on the table next to my phone.

After he was gone, I examined the card. His title was Campus Psychologist. My phone lit up, attracting my attention. It displayed an overwhelming number of notifications. I ignored them in favor of visiting my social media page.

At the top of the feed, the official administrators had pinned a message.

This page is now restricted, only those with access may view it. If you have questions about the restriction or feel you’ve been blocked in error, keep it to yourself because you haven’t been.

Below that stretched a long string of posts by other Cassell students.

“How does one kill a servitor in a single hit?”

“Well, this new student is promising. Anyone get her number?”

“Wish she’d left some of that fight to me.”

“How can I date her please.”

“DMs are blocked :(“

“Anyone have her phone number? What about email?”

“How do you even get that strong?!”

“10/10 would watch again.”

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to talk to or meet any of these people.

In my notifications, I found a text from Nono. “Hey, hope you’re feeling better. You’ll be getting a message from the Principal soon. Don’t be nervous, just do your best. If you need me, just call me alright? Please, if you want to talk, don’t hesitate to call me. I know you miss your family, but you can’t go back to them right now. Not without talking to him.”

The phone sang its jaunty ringtone. The caller ID was just ‘EVA’. “Hello?”

Her voice was cheerful but her words were to the point. “You passed your E3 exam with a high level of resonance with a draconic cipher. This along with your unique dragon ancestry puts you at Rank S.”

“What do you mean I passed? I didn’t write anything?”

“Most record their ciphers. In your case, this was not the correct medium. Determining your ability will take further research. Therefore, we are admitting you. Welcome to Cassell College. I’m EVA, the school AI butler. Let me know if you need help or have questions."

“AI…? A computer…?” I stammered but couldn’t form a complete sentence so she continued.

“Your meeting with Principal Anjou is in half an hour. I’ve sent Mingfei Lu to guide you there. Your uniform is there in your room. Please dress and get ready to meet him. Don’t worry. He’s very nice.”

“Wait! Who is…?”

The phone beeped to tell me there was no longer anyone on the other end. I returned it to the nightstand and slid my legs over the edge of the bed to get up. I found my purple and black uniform on a hanger in the open closet across the hospital room.

When I put the uniform on, I examined myself in the room’s bathroom mirror. The open collar displayed my pendant over my collarbones. I turned my back to see if there was any sign of where that man had knifed me. There wasn’t. My heart began to pound as I remembered the spear of light impaling my attacker, how his jaw dropped open in shock. I started to wonder how much of that really happened, hoping some of it was a dream.

A knock on the hospital room door frightened me so badly I stumbled backwards into the wall. Trembling, I peeked outside the bathroom to see a gangly young man with brown doe-like eyes and a mop of messy brown hair. He gives me a cheerful wave. “You must be the newbie!”

He slowly lowered his hand when I didn’t echo his enthusiasm. “Don’t be shy! I don’t bite! I promise!” He gave a little nervous laugh. “I’m not good at this…” He mumbled.

“Good at what?” I asked him.

His eyes snapped back to mine. “Huh? What? D...did I say that outloud?” He looked at me for confirmation so I nodded. “Sorry. Um. So, You can just call me Lu. I’ve been here for a little less than a year.”

His shoulders sagged at my silence, “So…” He steeled himself, forcibly perking himself up. “My roommate happens to run the gossip column at school. He told me what happened. It was pretty incredible. Where’d you learn to do that?”

I closed the door again, wondering if he was one of the people who posted on my feed. I leaned against it, glaring at the ground. “I wouldn’t say it was ‘incredible’.”

His voice sounded from the other side. “I know it's hard but I can help you. I… I know what it’s like okay? Just bear with it. You’ll do fine!”

I took a deep breath and cracked the door open. “Sorry…” I whispered.

“You’re fine okay?” He said, peering through the small space, his voice trembling with nervous laughter. “We just need to get you to the principal’s office. You don’t have to do anything. Oh and don’t forget to grab your coat. It’s pretty windy out there.”

As we walked down the campus paths, Lu kept glancing down at me like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start. “So… what’s your name?”

I felt a chill run down my spine, recalling the results of using my childhood name. “I don’t like my name.”

“Oh… then… what do you prefer to be called? I feel bad just calling you, newbie.” More nervous laughter.

“Newbie is fine.” I told him. “But if there’s a name you like, just call me that.”

His nervousness turned to surprised dismay. “What? I can’t just call you whatever I want! What if someone else calls you something different?”

The corners of my mouth turned down. “You’re Mingfei Lu, right? You said, just call me Lu. Does everyone call you Lu?”

“Ah… good point.” He rubs his chin in thought. “But… What if I call you something you don’t like?”

I chuckled. “Then I’ll tell you. Like I said I didn’t mind, ‘newbie’.”

He rubbed the back of his neck but didn’t continue to object.

The administration building grew larger into view, fronted by a stone staircase. People hurried up and down, anxious to get out of the cold.

Once inside, Lu led me to the main office. We paused at the wooden door carved with the word ‘Principal’. Lu knocked before going in. Like most things at Cassell, the principal's office was larger than it needed to be. It was fancy, with black mirror tiles and a sleek glossy desk. Behind it sat Anjou who greeted me with a sympathetic grin. I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. That man fooled me into coming here and denied me access to my family. This was all his fault.

Johann and Caesar stood in front of the desk. Johann crosses his arms at my dour expression.

Caesar was bemused at my silent snarling. “It’s good to see you up and healthy. We are all grateful you made out alive.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I mumbled, my shoulders rising to my ears.

Johann's soft voice echoed in the roomy interior. “That’s Mingfei, he’s our other S-ranked student.”

“You’re S-ranked too?” I turned to him in shock.

Mingfei Lu held up his hands in self-defense.“ Don’t look at me like that! I’m just ranked as S! I don’t actually have any abilities at all.”

Anjou stood up from behind his desk, as tall as I remembered, smoking a cigar. He paced, massaging his beard as he began. “Now that we’re all here. We can start the mission briefing.”

My eyes lifted at the word ‘mission’, glancing at the others.

“Our intelligence is reporting the signal of a dragon embryo off the coast of Japan. This signal may be what we have been dreading. Analysis indicates that it is the signal of a first generation dragon lord. So we’re sending you as a team to meet with the Cassell College Japan division.”

He took a drag of the cigar and let it out slowly. “This mission is Grade SS. We will need all of you."

My hand tentatively rose but he ignored me and continued.

“Our Japan branch is very secretive. This situation calls for the utmost discretion and sensitivity. However, I have maintained contact with Masamune Tachibana. He welcomes our assistance. Please, view this as a stepping stone for bringing our branches into closer cooperation.”

Filling with dread, I recalled Isaac’s Japanese companions and wondered if there was some connection to what I had done.

“Caesar, you’ll be the one leading on this mission.” Anjou nodded to him.

Caesar opened his mouth to speak but Johann responded. “Of course, that’s for the best.”

Caesar scowled at him. “Don’t steal my lines!” He cleared his throat. “We’ll complete the mission in no time at all, Principal Anjou! With time to do some souvenir shopping!” The blue-eyed hybrid waved a hand at me and flashed a smile, “In fact, I’d like to outfit you in the finest silk kimonos…”

“If that’s what you want to do.” I replied, reluctantly smiling back.

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “This is your first mission as part of our team! That’s surely something to celebrate.”

“Wait… I'm going?" My smile turned to confusion. Somehow, I’d passed my E3 without writing anything. I killed my fellow students the night before. Now, he assigned me to work with top students and sent me to Japan.

While I struggled to grasp my new reality, silent seconds ticked by. Johann cleared his throat. Caesar glared at him. “You have something to say?”

Johann returned his gaze with a calm expression. “Nothing at all.”

“If you have something to say, you should say it!”. Caesar turned to fully face him.

Johann looked at me instead. “I promised you I would show you a frozen dragon specimen. But now you’ll be seeing the real thing.”

“When was this?” Caesar demanded of him. "Don't ignore me, Johann Chu!"

I looked between them both, baffled at Caesar’s sudden aggression. Lu hid his face behind his hand in embarrassment.

Anjou puffed on his cigar chuckling. “I have to interrupt.” He addressed me next. “My dear, your performance in the library tells me that you qualify for this dangerous mission.”

I frowned at his use of the word performance. “But I…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, my voice trailing off.

He turned to the others. “I’d like to have a private word with our new student.”

As they walked out, Caesar continued to menace an unflappable Johann. “Keep in mind that it was Nono and I there at her arrival here…”

Lu followed them, glancing over his shoulder at me in worry before he was forced to jog after them to catch up.

Anjou sat down and gestured to a chair for me.

“You know,” he said. “Of all the recruits, you have outstanding resilience. You come to my office after everything you’ve been through. After you hear that I’m sending you on a dangerous mission after this incident, you don’t immediately object.”

“Do I actually have a choice in any of this? You’re just throwing things at me and I’m trying to just survive here!” My voice shook. “You’re not going to let me leave, are you?”

He settled his cigar down on a silver ashtray. “Your talent is a Class S… the strongest kind. But it is extremely unstable. The injection Johann gave you is a temporary experimental measure. I’m hoping that the Japan Division might be hiding research that can aid us in preventing you from turning into a monster like Isaac.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice lowered to a whimper.

His uncharacteristic seriousness lent weight to his words. “What happened to Isaac could just as easily happen to you. I am committed to preventing that. You’re here to today because of that effort. Had you turned servitor after the injection, we would have had no choice but to eliminate you. You did not. So there is still hope.” He said this frankly, looking into my eyes. His expression turned grim. “I cannot keep you here against your will. I can only tell you the truth. Your chances of survival are slim outside of Cassell College.”

My self-protective sense of humor faltered and I found my desire to contact Robbie lessened. If this was to be my fate, then it would be better that he never saw me again. “And if there’s no cure?” I asked quietly.

“Let’s take courage and hope. We’re working on it.” His positivity returned. “You remind me so much of my friend Manecke. When I look at you…” He took another puff. “I see brilliance. Something will come up.”

My throat started to close and my eyes burned. “Can I go?”

He nodded. I stood up and rushed out of the office.

Lu was waiting for me, but I pushed by him before he could say a word.

I managed to make it back to my apartment before I gave in to the shattering grief inside. My shadow twin appeared, kneeling next to me. She tried to catch my tears but they fell through her hand to the carpet. I wished I had never accepted the offer to come to Cassell. But if I hadn’t accepted, who knew what might have happened? Had I blissfully gone through life, I might have suddenly turned into a beast. I imagined myself as a ballerina, graceful and elegant, only to morph into a horrible monster a few years into my career. Maybe even on stage. It would have been awful.

My emotions began to subside and I picked myself up off the floor. Packing for the trip wasn’t difficult. Most of my things were still in my suitcase. As I went through my belongings, I wondered what I wanted to wear on my last few days on Earth. ‘Whatever felt comfortable on a plane’ won out.

I wrote in my school notebook what I wanted people to find after I was gone. I confessed that I hadn’t just killed Isaac, but possibly six or seven other people. I was a waste of everyone’s time and effort, especially Robbie and Mom’s.

My phone buzzed. Nono was trying to talk to me but I didn’t want to anymore. It was better if she forgot I ever existed. I turned the phone off.

My heart beat fast all the rest of the day and into the night. I spent most of that night pacing around my apartment. The racing pulse made it impossible to sleep and robbed me of my appetite in the morning.

The next morning while I was turning out the lights and getting ready to meet the others to go to the airport, someone knocked on my door.

I opened to Nono, her crimson eyes narrowed. “You know, I don’t take it lightly when someone ignores my messages. Especially someone I’ve tried to be nice to.”

My shoulders lowered and I sighed. “Nono, I…”

She cut me off. “No, you need to listen to me. I know what happened was hard. Maybe even harder than most. But you have got to pull yourself together.”

“Life as a hybrid will never be fair or easy. Not one of us has had an easy and happy life. You’re one of us now. So buck up and do what needs to be done!”

I shrunk under her stare, swallowing hard.

“You’re going on a dangerous mission with Caesar and the others. And I can’t have you getting into a funk, slipping up and then someone else dies because of it.”

When I stood silently she took a step forward, her voice rising. “Do you understand? Do what you have to do to stop moping. If something happens to Caesar, I won’t forgive you.”

“Yes ma’am.” I whispered.

She turned, her heels clicking against the tile as she departed.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Go back to the Beginning

#Nono #Luminous #Dragon Raja #fanfiction #writing #EVA #Anjou #Caesar Gattuso #Johann Chu

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littledreamybeth · 5 years ago

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Injuries, tears and 1 surprise

A/N: Hey folks! This is probably my last writing for a while since my exams are nearing and I have to concentrate on them! I’m not a professional, so I’m sorry if a few aspects of my content seems unrealistic to you :) Nevertheless, enjoy!

Y/N couldn’t remember the last time that she had driven to somewhere this fast as she was now. She was clearly crossing the speed limit, she was aware of it, but she had a reason for this rush. It was a matter of life and death. Otherwise, she always stuck to the traffic rules, or rules in general. She was a good girl after all.

Tears continued to roll down her cheeks since the moment she had started the engine. Not even half an hour ago, she had received a certain call which she wished she had never received, making one of her biggest nightmares come true.

Her boyfriend’s mother had called, her voice unclear because she was crying so much.

She kept excusing herself for not having told Y/N that the love of her life was sent to hospital due to an accident sooner, because everything was quite hectic. Besides, her motherly instincts had advised Anne to keep Y/N from heartbreak until the worst was overcome. Anne gave no further details, only urging the young woman to hurry to the hospital as soon as possible.

Y/N practically threw herself out of her car after she had parked it in the hospital’s parking lot, and rushed to the entrance, ignoring the people with their flashing cameras and microphones, who started to mob her. She fought her way through them, but thankfully, she also got help from security guards, who tried to get rid of the crowd.

“H-Harry Styles,” Y/N croaked out of breath once she had arrived at the reception desk. It was a miracle that Y/N still stood on both of her legs, because she was almost at the verge of collapsing. She felt completely weak and drained off energy. The room around her was spinning and the walls seemed to be caging her in- it gave her a massive headache. Additionally, the constant worry about Harry drove her insane. The entire drive, she couldn’t think about anything but whether Harry was okay. No one really gave her any information about his condition- only that he was involved in a car crash this morning.

The friendly female staff behind the desk stared at her with sympathy. She knew exactly who this young woman in front of her was. She had seen her lovely face more than often on tabloids or magazines. Besides, the rumor that Harry Styles was hospitalized made its round quickly. Not only nurses were talking about it-no, the media also had heard about the news. It was hard to keep the reporters and paparazzi away from the building.

“Harry Styles!” Y/N repeated again with a trembling voice. Tears were brimming her eyes already and she could hardly maintain her emotions. “P-please, t-tell me w-where I can f-find h-him!”

The lady nodded her head, then turned to type something on the computer. The keyboard’s soft clicks gave Y/N a little moment of calmness. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that the beats had reached her ear drums, too.

“He’s at the Intensive Care Unit,” the lady said.

Y/N’s blood froze in her entire body. “W-what?”

“I’m so sorry, darling.”

Y/N needed a moment to process everything. Harry was at the ICU, which means that his condition must have been very critical. Fear overtook her.

“Can you tell me anything regarding his state?”

“He just left the operating room, love. He must be brought to his room by now.”

After the lady had given her the information she needed, Y/N thanked her and then sprinted all the way up to her destination without any stops. She would often bump into someone - especially at the stairs, since she refused to use the elevators because they were a waste of time; only apologizing with a quick ‘sorry’. The closer she got to Harry’s room, the more anxious she became. And then finally, she stood right in front of his door with heavy breaths leaving her lips. Her shaky fingers clasped the door handle tightly and with every inch that the door was opened, her heartbeat increased. Y/N swallowed hard, then entered the room.

What she saw in there ripped her apart.

Her eyes didn’t really recognize the presence of his family members and friends who were scattered around her boyfriend, because she had them trained on Harry only. At this moment, she saw no one but him. Everything else was faded out.

Her legs took control and moved her forward to the bed in which Harry was peacefully sleeping. The heartrate monitor, on which he was attached to, was the only noise that could be heard in the room and the only evidence showing that he was alive. It brought her a sense of comfort. If it wasn’t for that device, Y/N would have believed he was dead. He looked so pale and lifeless, as if no soul was resting in his body anymore. He looked nothing like her Harry, but still very beautiful.

“What happened?” Y/N managed to ask to the round after a long while, not tearing her gaze away from her boyfriend.

She felt someone’s hand on her shoulder, massaging her muscles gently in encouragement. It was Anne’s voice that spoke to her. It sounded as broken as she was feeling. “Drunk driver, what else?”

Y/N shut her eyes tightly, clenching her jaw. Anger cruised through her veins and she had the urge to scream and tear the first thing that she could grab apart. Because of a drunk asshole, Harry ended up here. Why in god’s name do drunk people always have to sit behind the wheel? Can’t they already assume the outcome of their stupid choice?

“What about the driver?”

“He died on spot.”

Y/N didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, whoever it was deserved to be in pain, however, losing their lives was a little bit too extreme, even for her liking.

She observed Harry. The majority of his head was covered with a white bandage, hiding his chocolate brown curls underneath. He had minor scratches on his cheeks and a plaster case around his left arm. There was also a bandage wrapped around his naked torso, which indicated that he had also gotten some broken ribs. The sight was unbearable. Harry- her strong Harry, who would do everything to keep her safe, was lying here, looking vulnerable and it seemed like he would break into a pile of pieces if you even dared to touch him. Y/N wanted to grab his hand, but was afraid to hurt him. He must’ve been enduring enough pain already, and she didn’t want to add any more.

“He just got out of surgery, y’know. The doctor said he was lucky,” Anne informed her. You could clearly hear exhaustion mixed with sorrow in her voice. “He had a severe head injury, but thank god, he got through it.”

Y/N couldn’t imagine how her life would’ve been like if he hadn’t made it. But fact is; she didn’t want to live in a world in which Harry did not exist. He must have had guardian angels who had protected him. Whatever force it was that kept Harry safe, Y/N was grateful for it.

Nick Grimshaw offered her a seat right next to her boyfriend. She sat down and intertwined her fingers carefully with Harry’s, placing soft kisses on his knuckles. His unharmed hand felt warm around hers.

“I think we should give them some space,” Grimmy suggested, gesturing Harry’s manager and friend Jeff to leave. Jeff obeyed, and both disappeared out of the room.

Gemma approached Y/N, gave her a big, comforting hug, before she asked for her keys. “I know you will spend the entire night here, so I’m gonna get you some clothes and toiletries.”

Y/N reached out to her pocket, pulling her keys out and handing it over to the young brunette. Once Gemma had left, it was only her and Anne who remained.

“I’m glad he’s alive,” Anne whispered, loud enough for Y/N to hear. “I couldn’t bear to lose him.”

Being a mother of a worldwide superstar, she was always concerned about her son’s wellbeing. Especially when he was out of her reach. Then, she would have no control whatsoever over her son. He was her baby after all- of course, she worried. Harry was the only male remained in her life.

Anne didn’t stay long either, giving Y/N the opportunity to have some time with Harry alone.

Hours passed in which Y/N did nothing but to observe Harry’s chest, which lifted and fell with each intake of breath. From time to time, a nurse would stop by to check on Harry’s vitals, advising her to take it easy on him when he woke up, and to not asking many questions.

Prayers of desperation would leave her rosy lips more than once, hoping that Harry would open his eyes very soon. She would have loved to lie down with him, cling to him tightly and just hold him. However, because of his broken bones, she could do nothing but holding his hand.

Her limbs began to sink sometime, sleep starting to consume her. But just as she was about to doze off, she felt a light movement under her hand. She instantly looked at her boyfriend.

Harry started to shift in his lying position, his face expressing nothing but pain. The anesthesia’s effect had begun to diminish slowly. Shallow breaths left his mouth, and he mumbled something unintelligible. His grip around her hand tightened. Y/N was about to call a nurse to inform her that Harry was slowly awakening, but she heard her name escaping his lips.

“Y/N…” he whispered weakly, his voice sounding like he hadn’t talked for ages. Rising from the chair, she took place on a free spot on the bed.

“I’m here…” she responded, feeling something wet running along her cheeks. “I’m right here…”

“Y/N…”

“I’m right here, my love. Don’t be afraid.” Y/N gently massaged the back of his hand to provide him comfort.

“Everything hurts…” he whined.

“I know… But it’ll be over soon, I promise.” She wished she could do something to take his pain away.

Harry slowly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry at first, but with every blink, his vision became a bit clearer, adjusting to his surroundings. He came back to his senses every passing minute.

“Let me get the nurse,” Y/N stated, then left the room. Very short after, she came back with another middle-aged, kind lady, who unplugged him from the heartrate monitor. She checked up on his injuries, gave him some painkillers, told them to inform her should there be any problems, and then left with a “Welcome back to the living, Mr. Styles.”

After she was gone, it was him and Y/N alone again.

“Hi,” he spoke, when his green irises met his love’s ones.

“Hey,” Y/N responded, “how are you feeling?”

He tried to sit up. Y/N rushed to his need, taking care that she didn’t hurt him.

“As if I was hit by a car,” Harry joked, but when he sensed Y/N’s tense and frozen state, and that she wasn’t laughing or smiling at all, he apologized instantly. “Sorry, love.”

A blunt remark hit his ears. “That joke was lame.”

“I know…”

“You scared me. You scared us all. I thought I had lost you.” Y/N nestled her cheek against the inner side of his palm. “No one told me how you were. I was so afraid.”

Harry wiped the wetness under her eyes away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, love. I never intended to scare any of you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. That drunk driver is the one to blame.”

“How are they, by the way? Anything regarding their condition?” the young man inquired. His question took her by surprise. Y/N contemplated if she should tell him right away, but he had all rights to know.

“We were told that they have passed away.” Unfortunately. If that person was still alive, they would have heard a big lecture from her. Harry’s features softened. Even though that person was the reason he was at this condition, he still felt bad for them. Drunk or not. No one deserved to die in an accident. Of course, this didn’t justify their actions. They sat behind the wheel, drunk, knowing the how likely it was to cause a car crash.

“I see.”

A short silence followed. Then, Harry pushed Y/N down to his direction.

“What are you doing? You’re injured.” Y/N called.

“Cuddle me.”

“I can’t you have broken ribs if you haven’t noticed already.”

“I don’t care. Cuddle me. I want cuddles now,” Harry pouted. “You’re my medicine, c’mon.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. But she still obeyed to his wishes since she wanted nothing but to have him in her arms. Harry shifted away a little bit, making space for his love. Y/N cautiously laid down beside him, wrapping one arm around his lower half, making sure not to hit his injuries. Harry slung his healthy arm around her small form, snuggling against her.

“From now on, I’ll be accompanying you to everywhere,” Y/N said determined. “Somebody needs to keep an eye on you. Whether you want them to or not.”

Harry chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Yes…”

He kissed the crown of her head. Y/N wondered who was relying more on comfort, her or Harry?

“You won’t be getting rid of me so easily, love. Not gonna let that happen. You’re stuck with me forever.”

“I can’t risk losing you, anyway. I need you,” the young woman said. She looked intently at her lover, her eyes mirroring her emotions. Harry could tell that there was more behind them than she gave away. “We need you…”

“We?”

Y/N sat up and only led his hand onto her flat belly, where another life was going to rest and grow in the next couple of months. A large smile graced her lips.

As Harry caught on her hint, his eyes gleamed with joy. “Are you- are you really pregnant? Like, there is a little me in there?”

“There is, and that’s why I need you more than ever. When your mum called me and told me you were hospitalized, our baby was the first thing that crossed my mind. How would I raise them if you weren’t there anymore? I didn’t want them to grow up without a father, so I’m relieved from the bottom of my heart that you’re alive, and with me. Us, I mean.”

Harry gently ran his hand over her stomach.

“I’m not leaving anywhere, love. I won’t let you down, don’t worry.”

Pressing her lips delicately onto his, she kissed him gently.

“I love you,” they breathed in unison.

taglist ❤ : @hes-writer

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leiascully · 6 years ago

Text

Fic: Baseball Metaphors (15/15)

Thanks for sticking with me to the end of what, like Visitor, began as a one-shot and ended up a thirty thousand word journey. It’s possible that this is the epilogue of Deathly Hallows of epilogues, and if that’s true for you, please feel free to ignore it and live forever with Mulder and Scully in the throes of some truly epic afterglow. But I wanted to follow the thread a little further, and explore what their future might have been if this had been their present sometime in the middle of Season 3 (honestly, a terrible time to set it, given how many killer episodes and how much mytharc I ended up having to write out of their moderately peaceful life together). I’m sorry to say that it’s safe for work, PG at most.

Jenny won't take elopement for an answer, so Scully relents and lets her help plan the reception. Despite her dull taste in paint colors, Jenny turns out to have exquisite taste when it comes to planning weddings, and she and Scully talk flowers and place settings and the details of the reception dress for hours. She coaxes out all of the details Scully never thought she cared about as Mulder watches, fascinated. In another life Jenny would have made a great interrogator. Maybe even in this one.

They go to the wedding, of course. The minister is boring and the vows are boilerplate. Mulder slides his thumb smugly under the hem of Scully's dress. She smiles like an angel and pulls him into the garden during the reception so that he can keep the promise his thumb made. But they both cry, just a little. It's not because of Ethan and Jenny, they swear to each other. It's just the idea of weddings, of course. It's the idea that they, one day soon, will be standing up in front of each other and saying their various versions of same old words that somehow still mean something every time.

Eventually, the baby is born, and their time with Ethan and Jenny peters out, except for Scully's occasional wedding planning dates. She dandles the baby on her knee and discusses the merits of a veil versus a fascinator for the reception (the fascinator wins) while Jenny changes out the cabbage leaves in her nursing bra.

They get married in her mother's living room. Maggie isn't happy about the lack of a Catholic wedding necessarily, but she gives them her blessing as they join hands and promise themselves to each other, forever and ever. At least the priest makes house calls, Mulder thinks. They all sign the document afterwards and Scully's mother serves up cake and coffee. It's all very civilized. Scully glows in a dress she got from the department store. Mulder touches the white rose pinned to the lapel of his new bespoke suit. When everyone's plates are just crumbs and the cups are dregs, they hug Maggie and take their leave. She presses a horseshoe and a bell into Mulder's hands.

"Melissa would have wanted you to have it," she says. Scully cries.

That night in bed, they explore each other slowly, their hunger tempered now by months of indulgence. He spends so long after his first orgasm coaxing gentle climaxes out of her that she reaches down and finds him firm again, and she slides her leg over his hip and takes him in. They make love gazing into each other's eyes, as if each touch is part of a ritual that will keep them safe and whole and happy.

Only afterwards do they realize they forgot the condom.

The train from DC to Portland, Maine takes twelve hours, give or take. They spend most of it holding hands. Scully pages through the issues of JAMA she's never managed to catch up on. Mulder reads a treatise on alien behavior that someone sent him anonymously, sharing the most entertaining portions aloud with Scully.

The B&B may or may not be haunted, but it's picturesque as hell. They rent a car and drive into the woods and there it is, white clapboard and black gables spattered with wet leaves that the wind has pasted there. The bed is deep and soft and they spend the weekend hiking, eating, drinking wine by the fireplace, and making love with no barriers between them, holding their hope cupped in their palms like a candle flame in a breeze.

Scully doesn't get pregnant. It's just as well. They keep going out on cases. They dip in and out of the darkness of their own minds. Krycek reappears, the bad penny forever turning up. That's after the black oil, after the airport in Hong Kong.

"I should have made him my best man," Mulder muses, when everything's over, because there's nothing to do but whistle in the dark.

"Frohike would have been a better choice," Scully demurs.

At the reception, Byers gives a lovely toast and Frohike demands to dance with the bride. Langly tries to DJ. No one dances. It's a small party, but Teena Mulder comes down. She kisses Scully's cheek and presses a glass of wine into her hand. "I said the seven blessings," she says. "I always knew it would be you. Fox will know what to do."

He ducks his head. "Thank you, Mom."

She reaches up and strokes his cheek. "You're a good son, Fox. I think you'll make a good husband."

"He is," Scully says fiercely.

Teena's eyes soften. She nods. They drink the wine and Mulder steps on the glass. "Mazel tov," Teena says, and makes her excuses.

They don't tell anyone about the marriage, not even Skinner. Scully wears her ring on the chain around her neck, next to her cross. It seems safer that way. They do move in together, quietly, submitting separate change of address forms weeks apart. There's some kind of solace in coming to work in separate cars and opening the door of their new apartment to find the other one already waiting in a place that isn't filled with their own ghosts. Mulder keeps his old place too; it's a convenient place to meet up with his informants.

They fake his death there one day, when Scully is dying of cancer and Mulder is at the end of his rope. He comes back from the land of the lost with a chip for the back of her neck. Bill steps in front of him, a snarl on his face, but Maggie lays a hand on her son's arm.

"That's her husband," she says calmly, and weathers the hurricane of Bill's fury and confusion while Mulder coaxes Scully to sit up, kissing her dry cheek and whispering to her about miracles. She has the little bottle in one hand and her rosary in the other.

"You can't let go," he says. "I know I said 'til death do us part, but Scully, that can't be now." He kneels at her bedside and sobs against her thigh while she strokes his hair.

"I'll do it," she says, and he can hear that there isn't really hope in her voice, but she wants to spare him the agony of never having tried.

She gets better. They go to the doctor to discuss the ova from the facility Mulder found. The specialist thinks there's hope. It takes a few months, but eventually the test comes back positive. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Scully," the specialist says, and neither of them correct her. The conspiracy they've been unraveling may be so much lint and chaff, but this is real. They put their hands together on her belly.

When they find Emily, the adoption agency is only too happy to let them fill out the paperwork. A nice young married couple, steady jobs, maybe a little on the dangerous side, but at least they've got good insurance and a government pension, right? And it can't be so risky, if Agent Scully is pregnant and still going in to the office. They have to tell Skinner after that. He doesn't look particularly surprised. They fly their daughter across the country and settle, dazed and dazzled, into some kind of routine.

At least their new place has a bedroom for her, and one for the baby on the way. They burn through a lot of their sick days, but Emily begins to grow and thrive and Scully's belly rounds. Mulder helps her with her reading at night; Scully coaxes her through math. It works. They're a family. When they bring home little William, Emily is delighted.

Cassandra Spender disappears from a bridge in Pennsylvania. Her son batters down the door to the basement, but they don't know much more than he does. Scully was home with Emily when the itching began, not in her neck but in her brain, but it was bathtime for Emily, and there were stories to be read, and then Mulder to hold her in the dark, and she never left DC.

Diana Fowley strides back into their lives, bearing news of a psychic child. She studies the ring on Scully's hand (no point in secrets anymore) and their family photos on the desk. "Congratulations," she says in a deliberately even voice. The door closes behind her with a click. She doesn't come back.

They go to Texas while Maggie watches the kids. Somehow they end up in Antarctica, but somehow they get back with all their fingers and toes and a few more insights into the vast global conspiracy that used to be the lodestar of their lives. They lose the X-Files for a little while, but they have other things that are important, like where Emily's other shoe is and whether there are any clean bottles to store breastmilk in and why Mulder's mother sends such expensive presents.

(Scully never goes to Africa. Mulder never goes to Oregon. Despite it all, they have their health and strength.)

They're happy. They still argue. One Christmas Eve, Mulder convinces Scully to leave the kids at her mother's and takes her ghosthunting for old time's sake. One strange day through a series of strange coincidences, Scully meets her ex at a hospital.

"All the choices we've made," she says later, blurry after a glass of wine, "they've all led to this moment."

"I'd make the same ones," he says.

"Me too," she says, taking his hand. "You know, the kids are in bed."

"Are you propositioning me, Agent Scully?" he asks, mocking outrage.

"It's my turn," she says, and leads him into their bedroom, and he thinks they just might live happily ever after after all.

#the x-files fic #xfiles au fic #canon divergent au #msr #mulder x scully #my fic #fic: baseball metaphors

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logically-starjam · 5 years ago

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Words Aren’t Made to be Eaten

Description:

Pairings: Past Logince

Warnings: Panic(?) Attack, mention of suicide, mention of drugs, mention of alcohol, crying,

A/N: Welcome to Crow's pet project for the past two months. Monster song fic! This is partly a vent fic. The fight is based off a real one so it may seem a bit ooc. It’s kinda long so I’m splitting this up.

1/?

Tell me again about how it hurts

“Enough!” Logan clasped his hands over his ears. “You are not contributing anything except complaints. Has it ever occurred to you to just shut up?”

Being awfully loud for an introvert

Roman carefully inspected the telescope in his hands. “Actually it hasn’t Dr. Do-Little-Work. And I’m not complaining. I’m putting in my wondrous, needed opinions. I mean, after all, it’s not like your ideas are good enough to get through to Thomas by themselves.”

Get out of my room, smile wiped clean

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out.” Logan carefully repeated through clenched teeth. His brows furrowed with the effort of not crying in front of Roman. He shouldn’t be crying. He doesn’t do feelings. Crying is a symptom of feeling. He is Logic. Crystal clear facts. Not some silly hormone-driven creature like the rest of them. He stared at the scribbled over paper in front of him.

“Oh come on Logan. Don’t be so sensitive. Anyways—”

“GET OUT!” Logan roared as he swiveled around to face Roman. He couldn’t place why his heart hurt just a bit more when he saw Roman’s smug face drop. Useless feelings. Useless. Useless. Useless.

Just like him.

Isn't it weird to be so mean?

“Logan. What’s wrong with you? Have you been spending too much time in Patton’s room or something? Geez, ever heard of temper control?”

“You! You’re what’s wrong with me.” Logan shot up from his chair and strode towards Roman. “You are constantly daydreaming while being clueless to the issues around you. You can’t do anything right, which is why you have to rely on one of us to help you create something. You’re supposed to be Thomas’s passion. His ego. His creativity. Look at him. His ego is almost non-existent. He panics about new videos and creations constantly. You failed him.”

Each word was punctuated with a sharp jab at Roman’s chest. “Virgil has been letting up. You can tell that he tries his best not to bring Thomas down anymore. Patton has even been working on his feelings. He’s been working on controlling them and not bottling up anything. What do you do? You belittle them both.” Logan’s mouth seemed to be on auto-pilot.

Roman stumbled backward, trying to get away from the harsh words.

“You can’t handle the fact that the rest of us are more liked than you. The fact that the rest of us are more important than you. You always say that we were doing fine without Virgil, that we’d be fine without him. You were right about a side not being needed. Just not which one.” Logan slammed the door, separating him and Roman.

I'm guessing that I've grown horns

Logan turned around and slid to the floor. What had he done? Those words weren’t meant for Roman. Those words weren’t meant to be spoken out loud. They were meant for—

I guess I'm human no more

Logan stopped as he realized he couldn’t breathe. His fingers scrambled up his throat, trying desperately to open up to let him breathe. Somewhere in the back of his head, a voice reminded him to breathe. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. Repeat. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8 repeat. Repetition. He could do this. Performing the same functions over and over again. Repetition. Like a robot. He could do this.

I can tell I've rotted in your brain

“That was harsh. You know, he looked up to you.” Another voice said.

He didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to respond. Breathe in for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. Breathe in for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. He had no time for feeling inducing voices. He had a task to do. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8.

“Logan. Everything he did, he did to impress you.”

In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8, ignore the voice. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8, ignore the voice.

Oh, how easily passion twists

“Logan, if this is about the breakup, I really don’t think you should be lashing out like this. It’s been months and Roman already put it behind him.”

In for 4, hold for 7, out for— what was the voice talking about? There was just noise. He couldn’t understand. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t—

You think I'm a crazy bitch

“Look, brainiac, I don’t wanna lecture you. That’s Patton’s job when you get out of there. But just…” The voice seemed unsure of what to say next. As if a misstep could break Logan. Break? Broken? Break? A part of him was screaming, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

I craft my words to fit your head “Make the right decision ok?”

Logan was vaguely aware of the voice. His breathing quickened again.

“L? You ok? You’ve been pretty quiet. Do you need me to come in there?”

Logan couldn’t talk. He felt like he was dying.

'Cause no one listens to the dead

The door slammed open. Virgil rushed over to Logan’s shaking figure.

“Logan, buddy, focus on my voice ok?” He frantically said. Virgil’s hands were gripping Logan’s arms on either side. Logan nodded, faintly aware of the growing pain on his arms.

“Ok, ok, um, what would Patton do? What would Patton do…” Virgil muttered to himself, “Aha! Ok, L, can you name one thing that you can smell?”

Logan inhaled deeply. The scent of the ocean attacked his nostrils. He had always loved the ocean. He didn’t have enough control over his room to make an ocean, but he could control it enough to summon a light sea breeze to blow through his room at all times.

“The ocean.”

“Good, good. Can you tell me two things that you can see?”

Logan tried to focus his blurry vision. He could see Virgil. Virgil seemed worried, more than usual. Had he done this to him?

‘Wasn’t hurting one person enough?’ he thought bitterly. He could feel the negativity begin to whir around his brain.

“Logan! Buddy, please focus on me. Ok, let’s, um, skip that one. What’s one thing you can feel?” Virgil nervously asked, his grip growing tighter.

“Pain.” Logan deadpanned. Virgil hurriedly released Logan’s arms.

“Sorry.”

“It is ok.” Logan took a deep, shuddering breath. “I believe I am returning to normality.” Virgil nodded in understanding. He offered his hand. Logan hesitated for a moment before intertwining his fingers with Virgil’s.

The two sat in silence for a while as Logan’s heart rate returned to normal, Virgil rubbing circles into his hand all the while. Eventually, Virgil broke the silence.

“Sorry.”

So maybe I will talk to you

“What for?”

“For making you, you know.” Virgil picked absentmindedly at a loose string on his hoodie, trying to look anywhere but at Logan.

“You did not cause it Virgil. I was already well into the attack when you came along.”

“Oh.” Virgil replied. The silence settled over the two again. Virgil’s hand stopped moving. A single question hung over the pair like a needle over a balloon.

The only way I know how to

“Can I ask what happened?”

There was the question. Logan sighed and looked up at his ceiling.

“If you don’t want to, that’s totally cool. I understa-”

“It is fine. I have no qualms about informing you what occurred. Bottling up feelings is mentally unhealthy and could just lead to future attacks or spirals. Talking about it may help me understand what is happening a little more as well.” Virgil glanced over at Logan. Logan was still looking up at his ceiling. Virgil followed his gaze and gasped. Logan had 9 miniature planets, slowly orbiting a sun that was the size of a basketball. Around them, was a painted galaxy that was so detailed, it looked lifelike. Small stars twinkled in and out of existence, scattered around the ceiling.

“I remember when Roman helped me decorate my ceiling. He thought that it would be a good idea to have something to stare at,” Logan’s tone was nostalgic, but Virgil could hear a twinge of sadness, “We argued for hours over the details of each planet, but after 7 hours, we were done. We spent so long lying on my bed, talking about the future and our hopes and dreams.”

Mhm, I've said my speech

“Logan?” Virgil softly asked.

“Right. I, um, don’t quite know where to start… I suppose I would need to start at the very beginning. Is that alright?”

“Of course L. It’s all good to me.”

“Well, when Roman and I began dating, we established a set of rules and boundaries, as any functioning beings are want to do. The boundaries included both physical and mental boundaries. Things we could not do, and things we could not say.” Logan noticed the alarmed look on Virgil’s face. “Do not worry, they were simply things from our past that we did not want brought up. They were things that were off limits during fights. They were not to be talked about by the other person.”

The pieces clicked together in Virgil’s head.

“Who did it first?” Virgil asked quietly.

Mhm, through sharpened teeth

It had happened approximately 9 months ago. They had been arguing about something stupid, Logan remembered. He had said that friends were objectively unimportant. One thing had led to another and they soon began arguing about rights and wrongs, as most of their arguments tend to end on. Normally, their fights wouldn’t have escalated to these kinds of levels, but tensions had been growing for the past month. Roman became curious about something deeply personal to Logan and had been investigating under Logan’s nose.

“That makes no sense! What you are saying, is that if someone wanted to take drugs, you should just let them!”

“If it doesn’t hurt anyone, and if everyone involved gives consent, then yes!” Roman glared furiously at Logan. “You can’t just control people’s lives! We deserve to be free, to pursue the things we want to.”

“Roman, if people could just do what they wanted, the world would be in a state of anarchy. Society functions and thrives because of rules. Rules are necessary. Laws are necessary!” Logan argued.

“Laws that affect people basically say that people should do whatever they want, as long as it doesn’t hurt other people, as long as everyone involved gives consent, and if you want to hurt other people, they give consent to be hurt!”

“What does the last one even mean?”

“People are kinky. I don’t judge.”

Logan sighed. Pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Roman, if people could do whatever they wanted, nothing would get done. People would choose to do nothing instead of going to work. The economy would collapse. It would be the end of society.”

Roman spluttered. “N-No! People are better than that. People can choose to do nothing right now anyways and they don’t. There isn’t a-”

“On top of that, should you let people take as many drugs as they want? Should you let people drink as much as they want? ‘As long as they give consent’ right?” Logan mocked.

Roman’s head snapped back from the ground to Logan. “Actually, no! People under the influence can’t legally give consent!”

“That’s only in rape.”

“Noo? I’m pretty sure it still counts anyways.”

“Look. What you want is pure anarchy. The government needs to have control over people. People are too stupid to do it themselves so someone has to.”

“No! If you let the government take some rights, where’s the line?” Roman’s voice quivered. Tears began pricking his eyes. “What keeps them from deciding where you can go? What you can eat? What you can do? Who you can love?” Roman turned and stormed off to the living room. Virgil and Patton’s heads turned around. Patton saw the look on Roman’s face and sprang up to comfort the crying side. Logan stormed in soon afterwards. Virgil crossed the room to talk to him. Patton tried to make puns to cheer Roman up to no avail. Roman cried harder when he heard his name uttered across the room.

Logan stormed back towards Roman. “Can I say one last thing?”

“No.”

“Remember when Joan told you they wanted to kill themselves at the Halloween party?”

“Stop.”

“You made Thomas tell their parents. You didn’t exactly have consent, did you?”

“Stop it.”

“They did not give you their consent, did they? Thomas told their parents when they did not give us ‘consent’”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED!” Roman shouted, tears flowing freely down his face. “You weren’t there! You wouldn’t understand!”

The sound of the phrase he had used so much towards Roman during Roman’s ‘investigation’ made something in him snap. “THEN MAKE ME UNDERSTAND! I CAN’T EXACTLY-” Virgil slapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him away from the sobbing Roman.

You break the rules and spikes grow from your skin

“We’re over.”

Roman’s cold voice shocked Logan. He hadn’t heard the prince’s voice so devoid of emotion.

“What?” Logan asked. This was out of nowhere. He racked his brain for a possible reason. Was it because of the fight? But they always fought. They would fight, cool off, make up, and then do it all over again. Why was Roman-

“We. Are. Over.”

“Why?” Logan couldn’t stop the word before it flew out of his mouth.

“Why? Why? You dare ask me why?” Roman’s voice was strained. “You broke the rule. You broke my trust. You deliberately brought up something, that you knew was painful for me. If you can’t understand why, then you’re blinder than I thought.” He turned and slammed the door.

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years ago

Text

The Coffee Prince XII

(T’Challa x Reader)

Word Count: 5.9K

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4* *Part 5* *Part 6* *Part 7* *Part 8* *Part 9* *Part 10* *Part 11*

You look at a bowl of stew that in every way should be delectable and nutritious. Just the right balance of vegetable and meat so that it isn’t heavy on your stomach. Protein for energy, ruffage for vitamins and regularity, with a salty, rich broth to wash it on down. A thick slice of bread sits on a plate to the side.

T’Challa takes a spoon and dips it into the bowls contents, collecting a bit of everything for a handsome bite. “This I swear is my best batch yet.”

He clinks the back of the spoon against the ceramic. “Ok, yesterday we got one bite. Today we will at least get two.” He says brightly looking at you as he aims the utensil towards your mouth.

You turn to look at the floor as your stomach lurches. “I don’t want it.”

T’Challa’s mouth flies open, taking the spoon back with a flinch. “Bast! Is that that lovely voice I have missed for over 24 hours now?”

His happiness over you speaking does not catch on with you. You sigh with exhaustion. “Please, don’t talk to me like that. Like I’m a four year old.”

T’Challa sets the spoon back in the bowl, look satisfied with himself. “I know, I’m just glad that you said something, even at my annoyance.”

T’Challa wouldn’t be able to handle half the feelings you have concerning him everyday since waking up. You feel agitated, weak, tired and most of those symptoms would be cleared up with a meal. But the food was not going to get past the rock in your throat you constantly held whenever your mind thought about Bean. And you never stopped.

“I don’t want to eat anything.” You say in a low voice.

He sighs deeply. “Fine. That’s you choice for now. But you need something, so I’ll get you a nutrient patch.”

Getting up from his stool, T’Challa walks around the kitchen island to open a heavy ornate cabinet door to pull out a small box. Clicking open the lid, a small card-like piece pops up like a jack in the box, which he retrieves. He comes over to you.

“I’m going to need to pull you shirt up, ok?” T’Challa says quietly. You say nothing do nothing as he lifts the bottom of your blouse. The sound of adhesive peeling fills the silence as you feel his fingers creating stability on your back to place it.

“T’Challa, how long have I been here for?” You ask in a daze.

T’Challa rubs the patch onto you. “You do not have to think about that right now.”

“But I’m asking.” You say, rubbing your throat. It feels rough and dry, making you wince.

T’Challa pulls your shirt down, noticing this action. “Do you need water?” T’Challa asks, retrieving a glass before you can even answer.

His selective kindness is immediately irritating. “I told you what I want.” You say gravely as T’Challa shuts off the faucet turning to you. His sunny disposition becoming cloudy.

“I heard you. But...with all that has happened, I want to make sure you are well enough before going into it any specific details.”

You close your eyes in thought. If you had the strength you would do you best to snatch him across the table, no matter if it was a losing fight on your side. You can’t stand this side of him. “I just lost my baby after being punched in the stomach before I thought you were dying in front of my eyes....I think I can handle a little chronology added to that mix!” You hissed, pushing the bowl across the counter as the broth spills. You could care less how he felt about you, he’s kept you in the dark far too long.

T’Challa’s face drops with disappointment. Instead of entertaining your outburst, he brings the glass next to you. “You are tired. I know you didn’t rest last night, I heard you talking in your sleep and you were sweating.”

You grunt, holding your face in your hands. “All I do is rest. I’ve been resting for an UNKNOWN amount of time so I’m probably resting too much. Don’t you think? Mr. Know Everything, Says Nothing?”

T’Challa cocks his head to one side, studying your face blankly. “Would you like to go for a walk instead?” T’Challa asks calmly.

You turn your body to get up from the chair, T’Challa coming around hastily to hold your hand. You want to swipe it away, tell him to back off. You’re not made of glass, you won’t break. You only lost a pregnancy, it happens everyday. You’re still alive, but he keeps treating you like you’re a feather on a windy day, frantically grasping at you.

Instead you say, “Sure. A walk sounds great. A change of scenery can keep my mind off other things.” You come to a standing and feel something release, holding your stomach as an odd sensation trickles beneath you, a stark reminder of what you’re still going through. “Let me just go freshen up first.”

When you make it outdoors, you and T’Challa walk side by side separately. The sun is high but the heat isn’t offensive. You both walk across a clearing of high grass, tickling the exposed skin in your sandals. Every time a part of your body grazed his, you bristle, not wanting to insinuate that it was purposeful. You could see the hurt in his eyes from not taking his arm when he asked, but you were tired of feeling a rehabilitated bird. He has become so coddling, which you guess is not far from how he’s always been. But it isn’t nice now, nor does it feel secure.

“Thank Bast for such a wonderful day out. The sky is clear and the sun shines on us generously.” T’Challa opines. You squint at the sky, feeling the strain from being indoors so long.

“Mm,” is about all you can muster..

T’Challa looks at you as you look on. “How are you currently?”

“Hm! You wanna know, huh?” The grandeur of your tone drips with sarcasm.

“I’ve only ever wanted to know how you’re doing.”

You shrug. “I’ve been better.”

“Be more specific, uhmle.” T’Challa insists.

You scoff, tossing your hands up. “T’Challa, I don’t think there is much else for me to say when nothing I’ve asked has been answered.”

T’Challa sighs. “Isn’t mystery the spice of life?”

“And isn’t transparency the key to a healthy relationship? You think keeping shit from me has worked well enough for you up til now? See, that’s what I have been trying to say, but you won’t listen!” You say, flipping the switch on your anger quickly. .

T’Challa raises his hands in surrender. “I do, I hear you. Like anything else, there is a time and place. Maybe we can ease into this conversation. I just don’t want you to get upset in your condition.”

“Who is gonna hear us out here, T’Challa? We have privacy! And I have no condition, I just don’t have no baby.” You say flippantly.

“(Y/N)!” He snaps your name up at your quip. “Do not downplay your importance to what has been lost. That was not your fault.”

“Was it not?? As blurry as it may be in my memory, the one thing that keeps playing in my head is if I hadn’t insisted on you going to fight Erik, our child may still be coming.”

T’Challa closes his eyes shaking his head. “Erik was planning carnage whether things went his way of not! Until M’Baku helped to subdue him, we would have woken up to a very different Wakanda.”

You are disbelieving. “I know there’s a greater good, silver lining to all of this but I’m...really in a selfish mode right now, ok? I don’t wanna know about Wakanda, or Erik right now. Tell me, moment by moment what happened leading up to me waking up in bed?”

Just then T’Challa’s kimoyo beads trill, breaking the stand off in his favor.

“You forgot your kimoyo beads at home again?”

You shrink a little at his mention of home. Wakanda had become more of a place of asylum, just a means of protection and rehabilitation. Somewhere you go for a necessity and count the days in which the worst is over and you can be free.

“It’s hard to remember. I’m not a big jewelry wearer.” You mumble.

T’Challa brings up a hologram of Shuri. “Good Afternoon, sister.”

“Yes, yes. I’m not here for you. (Y/N) won’t answer. Have you seen her?”

T’Challa turns his body so Shuri can see the both of you.

You feign a smile. “I’m here! Sorry, just forgetful, no danger.”

Shuri sighs in relief. “Ok, I will just outfit you with an older model of the kimoyos. I phased them out a couple years ago, but it’s in a necklace form so maybe you are less tempted to take it off. Come see me when you get the chance.”

“I’ll be there soon!” You exclaim.

T’Challa starts. “And Shuri, have you got a chance to show me your remodels for the heli-”

“Brother, use the brain Bast gave you to figure it out. You have the time and capacity to do that without me, right? Or ask Okoye to help you.”

“I’m not putting my time into anything but (Y/N) right now.” T’Challa whines.

You bristle at this. “I don’t need supervision and frankly, I’m done talking anyway.”

T’Challa stutters slightly. “I did not mean that you need watching over!”

Shuri hangs up in the midst of the spat. T’Challa faces you, clearly exasperated as you lay into him.

Not letting up, you say, “You’re acting as if I’m a ticking time bomb, but I’m fine! I have no issues to reconcile except for piecing together a timeline to find out what happened to get us here!”

“And why is that so important to you? Why can we not move forward and learn how we should do things since what happened? You want to dig up pain again that hasn’t fully healed, what good does that do?”

“SO I CAN KNOW WHAT WENT WRONG!! I thought I was doing everything right! I thought that you could handle yourself and protect me and Bean and then things went south so fast and all I remember is waking up and the flutter is gone! And I keep pinching and prodding and wishing…” You rub your stomach like a magic lamp. “...praying that it’s all a dream and that he’s still here inside of me.”

“He?” T’Challa questions.

You close your eyes and walk past him slowly, cancelling out the natural noise around you. “So beautiful. Your eyes. A complexion so beautiful and deep, like their skin drinks sunshine. Hair still loose, not yet curling. Chubby, fussy, but happy…”

When you open your eyes you stop in your tracks. The way the wind blew against your skin, the temperature of the air. The sun had risen in just the right spot in the sky, making you squint and hide your face before you feel your emotions crash from inside, hurling yourself to your knees.

T’Challa catches your arm, willing you to stand. “(Y/N)! Are you in pain? What is going on?”

You gulp between sobs and somehow manage words in the midst. “This…..dream...here...”

“I’ll take you to the hospital ward. You are not making sense.” T’Challa says.

“I won’t go! You don’t care, you don’t understand!” You tear at the sweet grass around you before rising up, swallowing your breakdown like a horse pill. He doesn’t understand, he won’t. Not now. “I’m going to Shuri now. Do not follow me, I am serious as hell about that T’Challa. Don’t!” You point at him. You can't dwell on the hurt on his face as he stood completely gutted of power by you. But you weren’t on the same page with T’Challa anymore. He is treating you like a child at every turn like he is trying to keep you from knowing Santa isn’t real and you were sick of it. You need a break, and surely Shuri would be the best option.

As you approach her lab, Shuri meets you at the entrance with a concerned look. “Hey how are you? Did something happen?”

You sigh. “Kind of.”

Shuri walks you in. “Well first let’s get some business taken care of. Here is your personal kimoyo device to stay in communication with us. Don’t want to lose you, Wakanda can be a bit of a sensory overload at times.” Shuri walks you up to a table with a silver looking necklace with a simple looking flat teardrop pendant decorated with Wakandan markings in a raised middle section in its center.

You admire it as Shuri hands it to you to put on. “This is so beautiful! How is this not in circulation anymore?”

Shuri shrugs. “A little too expensive to reproduce in mass, somewhat impractical, especially for more active members of society. My mother loved it so much, I had to unplug the thing to her to finally give it up.”

“I can understand it. Thanks, I won’t take it off, no doubt.” You was, caressing the heavy cold metal on your chest.

A moment of silence passed between you. Looking around the magic that is her lab, places you in a state of awe.

“Shuri, I don’t know if I told you but your lab has to be the coolest thing I have seen in this country since I’ve been here.”

Shuri twists he lean body with elated humility. “Aw, why thank you (Y/N). The renovations are all mine. I want to work efficiently but not without style, you know? The vibranium mines are highlighted in the walls instead of hidden and fleshed out. Kind of like an ode to what stabilizes us. What we have been blessed with to be able to succeed.”

You look out of a window that shows the train of vibranium passing newly mined material from one end to another. Advancements you never seen in America is right here under your feet in the motherland.

“What could’ve been…I’ve fallen so much in love with the people here, the culture. I know I haven’t been available to really enjoy it but-”

You hear Shuri’s tongue clicking as she comes up beside you. “Don't beat yourself up about that. You came here on an unfortunate circumstance but you are welcome to stay for as long as you care to. You have been a light in my brother’s life and if I can say you are cool, that is a compliment worth something around here. T’Challa hasn’t even earned that yet.”

You make a small smile. “He’s cool to me.”

Shuri smirks at you before saying, “So, do you mind me asking why your little eyes are so red and puffy? Unless you have very active allergies that flare in the moments between my call and now, which we do have remedies for that are literally 100% effective.”

“For real? I mean, I do have allergies but, I won’t lie that’s not why I’m red eyed.” You sigh heavily as the words get stuck in your throat.

Shuri puts a hand on your arm. “You can talk to me. I won’t hinder you with any biases or opinions. You’ve been through a lot already, the worst is over. Now’s the time for healing, right?”

Her words are soft in nature but break you instantly. You crumble like a toddler skinning their knee on the pavement as Shuri, a girl about half your age takes you in her arms like a mother who knows. You sob against her as you try and deliver your feelings as clearly as you can while she affirms you gently. Her kindness is overwhelming and insight unmatched as you finally feel your sadness and concern and anger and frustration spill out in waves.

“Ok...ok...shhh.” Shuri gives you gentle pats on your back. “Let’s sit down here for a second, eh?”

She takes you to a more private nook in her lab for you to sit, handing you a handkerchief.

“I don’t know where that came from, I’m sorry.” You sniffle.

Shuri looks you over with pity. “I have a feeling. You know the weeks you have had here? It’s crazy for anyone to go through.”

You sober up a bit to take in what she is saying. “Weeks, you say?”

Shuri looks down at her lap. “You suffered a lot. Some of what we had to do was put you into an induced coma of sorts. The miscarriage was well before that though, which is why we put you under. To dull the breakdown as much as possible.”

You sputter. “Bu-but what about my-my life? I can’t be just anywhere for weeks without no one knowing! My job, I’m fired!”

Shuri raises her hands. “We took care of that. You will have employment when you return. We made sure your apartment is secure as well.”

You squeeze and knead your temples. “This is completely nuts. I’ve lost...how many weeks exactly?”

“About 2 ½. Did T’Challa not-”

You hold a hand up. “Don’t get me started on that. He is so damn...secretive. About everything! He keeps telling me no like it’s for my benefit but-”

“Oh my dear, how are you?” Queen Mother Ramonda says coming around to join you both out of nowhere.

“Hello mother! It is so good to have you here!” Shuri says jovially.

“I came as soon as I heard.” She says, having a royal flourish of a seat and placing a hand in yours.

You feel even better with Queen Mother’s energy beside you. “Did T’Challa speak with you about me being here?” You ask.

“No! Shuri did. Just a couple minutes ago.” She says with a smile.

You look at Shuri and feel slightly embarrassed. Shuri shrugs at you. “I apologize, but soon as you collapsed into my arms weeping, I knew I was out of my element and needed back up.”

“My daughter is beyond her years in intelligence, but she knows when to call for mother still.” Queen Mother says with a prideful smile. “Tell me, are you well?”

You look down at your lap, biting back your lip as you refuse to speak. The strain in your throat threatened your speech pattern anyhow and you were tired of talking like a drowning muppet.

Queen Mother’s hand clutches your chin, raising your face gently. She looks into your eyes with a concerned expression, searching your face for clues that you don’t speak of as you admire her ageless complexion.

“You are broken, my child, I know. This all happened too fast, but you are in love with my son and I feel that. From him and you. But you are not conveying the whole truth.”

You move your face from her hand with a tight jaw. It’s painful for you to be seen so transparently.

She nods. “Ah, and he is not either still, I assume? You are either very good at body language, or very bad at a poker face.”

Shuri snorts but straightens up as her mother’s gaze makes her.

“I don’t want to keep going over the same things in my head. But I can’t get past it.” You sigh.

“Well it over an accumulation of days ago! For you it was like yesterday, of course you can not move past it!” Queen Mother exclaims.

You slap your leg. “Thank you! It’s just hard to think I’m right when T’Challa keeps asking me have I eaten or if I want to do stuff, but soon as I ask about what has happened, anything related to that, he goes shuts down on me. I don’t know why he won’t talk to me about it.”

She nods. “And you should not have to beg him for that information.” She pauses. “I would not take his checking in on you in offense, he does want the best for you overall. And he knows your pain. It was his first too.”

Your heart skips at this notion. You and T’Challa seems to be on two entirely different planets now, it seemed more foreign to remember you both shared an experience, but your coping mechanisms refuse to blend. “I know, and I appreciate it.”

“However, he will need to be more open or you will never have this loose end fastened in your memory. You will resent him. He may not be ready to look back but he needs to know that you are serious. I would recommend you not retreating. If there is anything additional you want insight on, we could help you to know it.”

“No, that’s ok. I’ll see how far I can get with him. Thanks you guys, I think I’ll go.” You stand a little too quickly and feel a sharp squeeze in your abdomen.

“Be careful! You still have a lot of healing to do.”

You nod. “Most definitely…Queen Mother? I want to tell you something I haven’t told T’Challa.”

Her eyes widen but appears eager. “Go on.”

“I saw Bean...um I mean the baby.”

“How?!” Shuri exclaims. “It would not have developed discernible features for another two weeks.”

“It wasn’t in real life! But in some sort of vision. It had to have been when I was knocked out, but...he was so beautiful. And healthy. And ours.” You smile weakly in the place of peace you enjoyed then, Queen Mother bowing her head and clasping her hands. “But I can’t tell him that.”

“Why not? It is your truth, and if it causes you pain, he would surely know of it too. You must share it with him as you have us.”

You shake your head. “He won’t get it. Maybe call Shuri for doctors to evaluate my brain even. He hasn’t even mentioned Bean since all of this. How could he avoid it?”

“That is how he operates. For example he does not speak of half the shames I have put him through with test driving the new technology I work up. Thank Bast for healing or he would be a puddle of jelly by now. He would never tell you that though. He keeps a strong face.” Shuri grabs your shoulder. “But he has a good heart. You stole his so easily, I know you can work your magic to freeze him again.”

You give them both a hug and thank them before getting ready to leave.

Shuri stops you for one more thing. “Before you go, I know you will need some more of these, just let me know if you ever want to try our brand. It will last ages longer than those, but they take some getting use to,” handing you a box of sanitary napkins.

“Thanks.” You tap the box anxiously, not moving from your spot as something inside urges you to speak up. “Before I go, I wondered if you all could answer one question for me. Maybe two…”

Back at your spot with T’Challa, you walk in and see him sitting on the couch, staring towards the outside scenery of the open balcony.

You make your way to lean over the back of the couch. “Hey.”

He looks back nonchalantly. “Good to see you are back.”

“You didn’t call me at all while I was gone. I’m surprised.” You say walking around to sit on the couch, a couple cushions away.

He shrugs. “I know you are in good hands. I also do not want to treat you like a child, uhmle.”

“You don’t. I know you’re just being protective and caring.”

“I am learning to build my trust in you as well. We have some growing to do there, and I accept my responsibility in that front,:

“Hm.”

“What do you mean by that, ‘hm’” He asks.

“I think it’s good to have that trust between us. I’m so happy that you’re finding growth within yourself to find it in me but...my process isn’t the same as yours.”

“That’s fine!”

“Is it? So far we haven’t been on the same wave and it doesn’t seem ok. I’m short with you, you’re impatient with me. Communication breaks down all around and then…”

T’Challa reaches towards you. “That is just what a relationship is about. We learn about each other’s language and what works. It’s not always easy.”

“It’s not always easy but I could’ve made it easier by not jumping in to stop things I couldn’t. And you could have if you had let me know the full story of who you are!”

Your voice echoes off the walls causing a lull in the conversation. T’Challa starts again in a low calm tone.

“I accept my part in this. And I’m even open to speak about what happened, fully. But I won’t let you blame yourself.”

“Oh? Well don’t worry I’m doing plenty for the both of us.”

“Why are you being this way? You didn’t ask for Erik to find you, or for your friend to turn on you. None of this was in your control!”

“But I didn’t have to enter his room when no one was around! I didn’t have to sympathize for Tavia when my chance to take her out was there. I didn’t have to recommend you fight Erik or interfere with the fight and lose my son’s life!”

T’Challa looks to you confused. “You knew what Bean was?”

You laugh uncontrollable. “Wow! You remembered him! This is the first time I’ve heard you mention him since I lost the flutter in my stomach T’Challa, I hope you know.”

He starts to retreat, but turns to you again. “Do not do that.”

“Do what! State the obvious? You’ve completely forgotten him, all you talk about is me. But when I’m sitting in my own skin all I can think about is what could’ve been with you and with him.”

“How could I forget either of you in a matter of days! I watched you in a comatose state as we tried to save you and Bean before it was certain it was too late. You weren’t with me physically, but I held your hand, nursed you as best I could until I was dragged away to heal my own wounds and get some rest. As much as I loved Bean, I could not bear to lose you in the process. So no, there is not a second Bean leaves my memory because they...HE...is so attached to YOU. I didn’t want to lose you but all of this has made me lose some of you already. I can’t imagine heaven with the two of you because I was in hell.”

You stand there in shock, your aggressiveness breaking under his candidness. “T’Challa...our walk today made me remember him. I saw him when I was out, in the coma. When I was out, we lived a whole life with our baby, it was so sweet and free….it is too jarring to wake up from that to be in pain with nothing to show for it but the constant bloody reminder of what was. I don’t know how I’ll recover T’Challa, I truly don’t.”

He hugs you tightly. You allow yourself to enjoy his embrace, let him protect you from yourself. “I don’t mean to hurt you by not talking about our Bean. I know how much you were connected to him for the short time he was growing in you. I was excited ever since the announcement was made.”

“Yeah?” You sniffle.

“Of course, are you kidding? Uhmle, I am in love with you, and that will not change. Any part of you is precious to me. And the fact that we made a life, unplanned as it may have been, it was ours. And I’ll speak for myself when I say I am devoted. I have a strong feeling though that you feel the same.”

“I...I do. I feel myself loving you with every kindness you show me. When we met, I thought it was infatuation because I hadn’t had luck with dating and felt a bit insecure about my appearance and who I am. But I learned more about what makes me a...good person.”

“You can say it.”

“What?”

“...bad bitch.”

“Uh!” You smack his arm in protest, laughing for the first time in a while.

T’Challa holds you close to him. “Can you call my name?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t called me by my name in I don’t know how long. It’s quirky but it’s yours for me. I’d feel better to hear it.”

You furrow your brow with confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean, but maybe we can figure it out with some music for us to...ChaCha to.”

You both laugh as he snaps his fingers to play The Internet’s ‘Shadow Dance’.

“Ohhh, my song!” You say as Syd’s vocals circle around you two. T’Challa takes his hand in yours, while his other finds your waist to begin a sway. You rest against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat in your ear, steady and strong. Your mind is eased into the moments of sweet bliss you both shared: first date, first kiss, first...and through it all he still knows what makes you swoon. He’s so perfect to you, and you are perfect to him.

“I remember Tavia being into this song as well.”

You and T’Challa continue to sway, he kisses your forehead gently.

“She wasn’t as big a fan of them as me, but this song got to her.”

T’Challa gently drops his hands from your body and takes a step back. You cross your arms in front of yourself feeling anxious but brave.

“What are you saying?” T’Challa says with a suspicious squint.

You shrug, snapping your fingers to shut the music off.

He shakes a finger at you. “It is never nothing, you are going around it. Tell me straight out.”

You pace around, in a lioness kind of way, inspecting your prey. “For how long I have been here and for what has happened I feel like you know what I am asking for.”

“You don’t get what you don’t ask for.” T’Challa seethes.

“However you know exactly-”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT I KNOW!” T’Challa yells. You practically jump out of your skin, backing away from his offending volume. His body didn’t strain or shake to let out his anger in his tone but just as quickly as it expelled, he reeled it back in.

“I am...I apologize for my outburst.”

You scoff. “You think that scared me? Try a gun in my mouth next time, that might get you somewhere.”

“(Y/N), it is not like I want to hurt you! But you will not be around those people while I have you under my care.”

“Oh? Your care?”

“Don’t go there again!” T’Challa demands.

“I have! This whole damn time I have! I told you over and over again to stop treating me like damaged goods, treat me like you love me! And I told you what I need but you won’t listen!”

“I have….and I’m telling you no.”

You blink a couple times incredulously. “No? Like just....no? My friend is alive and here and I want to see her and how she is, but you’re saying no?”

“She is not your friend!”

“She is the only person I know here!” You yell out.

T’Challa’s mouth hangs open. “Don’t you...know me?”

Your mind goes a thousand miles a minute thinking of all the ways you could read him down, give him his rights, and set him on fire for a Viking funeral. How dare he, how could he be so oblivious.

“You never let me. I will see her, whether you like it or not. I’m going to bed, I don’t want to discuss this no more.”

As you walk away across the living room and to the corridor leading to the master bedroom, T’Challa calls out.

“You will not see her. I’ve already put in word to anyone who knows that they be uncooperative with information regarding her whereabouts or you visiting. She is a prisoner of Wakanda, a terrorist. She is the reason we do not have Bean. I will not move on this, understand?”

You don’t turn around. His voice reverberates along the walls of the corridor you stand still in, amplifying his role of playing God over your decisions here in Wakanda. You had enough: enough of him and enough of this place.

As you lay in bed you feel his weight on the other side of it and roll your eyes instinctively. Of course the King can’t sleep on the couch in his humble abode. He doesn’t dare reach out to touch you however. The chilly shoulder you give him for the remainder of the evening is clue enough that he ought not try it. He probably thinks this will all blow over in the morning, and if he does? You’d be on the first heliplane back to America quicker than he can put on his catsuit.

T’Challa snores gently into the night and you can’t sleep. The bed is overly comfortable but your body won’t let you enjoy it’s luxury, so you fling the covers off to get up, putting on your shoes.

“Where are you going?” T’Challa asks in a groggy voice.

You finish up with your shoes, putting on a robe. “I am out of feminine napkins thingies, so I’m going to get some from one of Shuri’s assistants.”

He begins to sit up, scratching his bare chest. “I could get them for you, save your steps.”

“It’s ok, they are already expecting me and I’m wide awake. You need to rest yourself, go back to sleep.”

T’Challa rolls over and does just that. First time you all agreed on something this entire time.

You walk over to Shuri’s lab and see Shuri and Okoye and Ayo standing in the middle of the floor, all turning at once when you step in.

“Does he know?” Shuri asks.

You shake your head. “Sleep like a baby and known the wiser.”

Okoye nods. “Good. Just remember, this is no more than a ten minute outing. You will be timed and escorted out at once. Clear?”

You nod your head. “As a deer in headlights.”

Okoye gives some instruction to Ayo in Xhosa as Shuri wishes you luck with a hug. The three of you begin a journey down past the ground floor, to the underground. Deep within the mountain in which you have been staying in is the mines where all the raw vibranium is kept.

Approaching the main deck, many folks of the Mining Tribe walk past you all, covered in soot and glowing blue flakes on their protective garments.

“They all work in the mines?” You ask out loud.

“These are maintenance people. We have automatic machines that mine the vibranium for us, but the machines need upkeep.” Ayo responds. “The prisoner would be part of the clean up crew for them: organizing spare parts and recycling broken ones.”

They lead you to a door, swiping an object at a sensor near the knob to open it. A person sits inside greeting them.

“Please dismiss the prisoner for us to interrogate. We won’t be long,” Okoye commands. The person in the booth, pushes some buttons and talks into a mic.

“Prisoner Tavia Reed, report to holding quarters.”

Masterlist

RagTag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@universalbri@therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines@airis-paris14@afraiddreamingandloving@kreolemami@lalapalooza718@syreanne@thiccdaddy-mbaku@she-is-golden @wakanda-inspired@90sinspiredgirl@bidibidibombaclaat@sithlordslut@brujademente@chaneajoyyy@slimmiyagi @lewatigress @shesakillerkween @queentearra @fiercedeception @yaachtynoboat711 @yofavcocoa @katasstrophey @zxddy-panther @babygirlofwakanda@destinio1 @heyauntieeee @ambthegamer @savageiz@klaine15689 @nickidub718 @dramaqueenamby

#the coffee prince #t'challa fanfic #black panther fanfic #shakafic

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commander-rahrah · 5 years ago

Text

RESIDENCY (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART EIGHT

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T (Swearing) Warning: Blood, Trauma

Word Count: 3000+

Description: Jordynne’s personal life crashes into her work life in an unexpected way. Who is there to help her pick up the pieces?

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: No dialogue from the game! An entire chapter of my own invention!! This was actually the very first thing I wrote, and then I decided I wanted to start from the beginning with my MC Jordynne and Bryce and Ethan. As always, any comments, likes, reblogs are very appreciated! If you would like to be tagged in future updates please feel free to reply on here or DM me! Thank you thank you thank you!

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy @owleyes374@professorortegasstudent@mindlessdreaminxo @mayar-mahdy @paisleylovergirl @nicquix @emilymay100 @octobereighth @jenp02cutie-blog

Previous Updates: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

PART EIGHT

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Jordynne tried her best to get her energy back up. Her shift was supposed to be over 3 hours ago, but the flu was wiping out staff this week and they needed her to cover ER. It hadn’t been too hectic of a day, and at the moment all of her patients were stable or being discharged.

Bryce had stopped by to check in on her, but she insisted she would be fine and would text him later. She had seen Jackie — but her roommate had turned on her heel the second they made eye contact.

Crumbling yet another paper coffee cup into the trash, she felt the hairs on her arms rise as she heard the distant wail of a siren. Rushing to the bay door, Jordynne swung around the corner just as the EMTs opened up the door. It wasn’t Rafael. But she swallowed the disappointment of not seeing her new friend when she saw the state of the patient they were bringing in.

The EMT’s voice was panicked, as they moved the stretcher down, rolling them into the hospital. “Officer Diaz, 32 years old, shot on duty.” She noticed their gloves, already stained with blood.

Reaching into her coat pocket, Jordynne pulled on a pair of latex gloves, taking over for the pale Paramedic -- keeping pressure on the patient’s upper thigh. “How many gunshot wounds?” Her trained eyes glanced over the man’s body, as her feet shuffled along with the stretcher as he was rolled into the ER.

“Just the one?” The EMT stammered, “We kept pressure on the wound. Pulse is fast but weak.”

Finally, the stretcher stopped, and nurses sidled up to Doctor Holland. “Pasek, take over.” The second the weight of her hand left his leg, the white cloth darkened with blood. “He’s losing too much blood.”

Thrusting a pair of scissors at the EMT still standing with her, she instructed him to start cutting out the uniform. Quickly visualizing a list in her mind, Jordynne grabbed the stethoscope off her neck and placed it into her ears. Sliding it through the button up shirt, she closed her eyes — listening. “He’s having trouble breathing. I need to....” But her words stopped as she looked down the stretcher.

The patient’s body finally exposed after the uniform being hastily cut off, Jordynne’s eyes widened. A second gunshot wound was revealed in the patient’s abdomen. Racing to press her hands over it, her latex glove snagged and ripped open. The blood was coming warm and fast through her fingers. “CODE OMEGA. We need a trauma surgeon.” Her eyes didn’t leave the patient, her pupils shifting left and right as she thought. “NOW.” She screamed.

She could see blurry shapes running past her, and the stretcher was moving. Jordynne’s runners were squeaking as she ran to keep up with the stretcher — her and nurse Pasek keeping pressure on the wounds. She stared at the police officer’s face, now pale and clammy. “Hypovolemic shock!” Doctor Holland blurted out as they turned the corner into the OR.

The on-call trauma surgeon rushed forward, already in their gear, support staff taking the stretcher for them. Jordynne kept her hands clamped to the officer’s stomach, her jaw clenched.

“Doctor Holland. You can let go now.” Doctor Nguyen grabbed onto her elbow gently, forcing her off of the patient. Quickly, the surgical team moved into action.

Jordynne watched as they suddenly became a blur, the sound of barking orders and instructions turning into a buzzing, high ringing sound. The sound of her heart beating and breath suddenly pounding in her ears. She felt herself being tugged out of the room, and the blinding fluorescent lighting of the hallway snapped her back. Staring down at her hands, she looked at the ripped gloves hanging off of her fingers. They were covered in blood, dripping onto the shiny white floor below her.

“Rookie.” She didn’t look up — still staring blankly at the mess she was making.

“Holland!” There it was again.

“Jordynne.” The voice was a lot more gentle this time. She looked up when she felt someone grab her shoulders, and stared into Ethan’s blue eyes.

He kept his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “Hey, where are you right now Jordynne?”

She lifted her hands up in response — the bloody mess hovering between them. “I — I,”

“Christ,” He whispered under his breath, turning her into his side and moving her down the hallway. “You! Back to the ER. Page Crowley and Thomson to cover!” He barked at the nurse who had escorted the patient with Jordynne. The nurse nodded in return before running off in the opposite direction.

Guiding her into an empty OR room, Ethan stood Jordynne over the sterilization sink. Leaving her for a second, he kicked the door closed before returning to her. She was shaking now, drops of blood plunking off of her hands and into the metal basin.

Turning on the tap, he grabbed onto her wrists gently dunking them under the water. Rolling the broken latex gloves off of her hands, he threw them in the trash. Lathering up the soap, he held her hands in his for a moment — despite the warm blood covering them, her skin was freezing. He started massaging the suds gently into her skin, between her fingers, up onto her forearms. He watched as the water turned from red to pink to clear. Ethan let the water run over their joint hands, squeezing Jordynne’s fingers until he felt the trembling stop. Grabbing paper towel, he carefully wiped both of their hands dry before finally letting go of hers.

Inspecting her for any more blood, he eyed the red that had seeped its way onto her white sleeves. Stepping behind her, he tugged at the back of it — gesturing for her to take it off. She moved her arms back, shrugging the lab coat off of her, leaving her in her scrubs. Her blonde ponytail flicked with the movement, her scent wafting in Ethan’s nose. He sucked it in, her perfume of jasmine and vanilla making him let out the softest sound. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he rolled up the dirty lab coat and placed it off to the side.

Grabbing her elbow, he gently spun Jordynne around — ducking his face down a bit so he could see into her eyes better. “Jordynne, are you with me?” He asked softly.

Blinking her long lashes, he watched her green eyes shifts back into focus. “Yeah...yeah.” She breathed out, glancing down at her clean hands. “Thank you.”

“First trauma like that?” Ethan asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets — he was too tempted to grab onto her tan fingers again.

“Um, yeah. I’ve never seen that much blood... so fast.” She gulped, her white teeth biting the corner of her lip.

“I heard some of the nurses upstairs, saying a gunshot victim was in the ER. I came down as soon as I could.”

Her green eyes went big, a flash of hurt crossing them. “You didn’t think I could handle it?”

Ethan scoffed, “I know you can handle it. Doesn’t mean I wanted you to have to do it alone.” He chewed the inside of his lip a bit harder as her big eyes looked up to him.

“My brother’s a cop.” She blurted out. “In Portland. I think that’s why — that’s why I froze at the end.” She licked her pink lips, “That could have been him. It could be him, back home.”

A soft knock at the door startled the pair, breaking the intense moment. The surgical attending opened the door, his hat in his hands and eyes low. “I just called it. Too much blood loss. Sorry, Holland.” He grimaced, before turning back around.

Tears welled up in Jordynne’s eyes, but she blinked to force them down. A ragged breath left her as she spoke. “Is ER covered?”

Ethan nodded, his eyes darting between hers — watching her reaction.

“I need to go.” She said suddenly, grabbing onto her lab coat and turning to the door.

“Rookie, wait,” He followed after her, attempting to reach out his long arm to get a hold of her hand. But she was too fast — she was practically jogging now, her hand up near her face, hiding the emotion on it. He finally got a hold of one of her fingers — he curled his hand around it, dragging her to a stop.

She spun around to face him, her pony swinging around wildly. “Ethan, don’t.”

“Jordynne, don’t leave the hospital with this baggage. Talk it through.”

But she shook her head at him, pieces of her ponytail falling out from the motion.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “We did it with Dolores.”

“I can’t...,” She glanced around the brightly lit hallway around them, “Not with you… not here.” Taking her hand back from him, she ran into the locker room not looking back.

Ethan stood dumbfounded in the middle of the hallway, not moving. Not with you. What the hell did that mean? Anger washed over him as Lahela came through the entrance doors, running through the atrium in his blue jeans with his pager out.

The surgical interns glanced over at the emergency room doors, before approaching Ramsey. “Did you admit the trauma victim? Did they get enough staff for the surgery?”

Flaring his nostrils, Ramsey let out a loud breath, “Doctor Nguyen already called time of death. It was Doctor Holland’s patient.”

His brown eyes went wide, “Shit…” For once, it seemed like he was at a loss of words.

Ethan ground his teeth together, pointing to the staff locker room. He thought of Jordynne’s teary eyes, her trembling hands. She had made it clear, she didn’t want him — but she was going to need someone’s shoulder to cry on. “She’s in there, Lahela.”

“Right, yeah. Thanks.” Bryce blinked back to reality, patting Ethan on the arm before heading over to the locker room. “Jordy? It’s me.” He called in through the door, before entering.

Wrapping his fingers into a fist, Ethan’s knuckles went white as he tried to control his anger. Turning on his heel, he stalked off to the stairwell. He took the stairs two at a time, his dress shoes sending sounds echoing through the concrete room. He stopped at the third-floor landing, his heart hammering in his chest — but not from the exercise. Leaning forward into the stair window, he pressed his forehead to the cool glass, closing his eyes for a moment.

Not with you. Not here. Every time he thought he had figured her out, she threw him another curveball. The patient had reminded her of a family member — he had experienced the same thing, he could talk her through that. He still could remember the day he helped the woman who reminded him so much of his mother that it made the hairs on his neck stand up when she greeted him.

Opening his eyes, figures moving outside immediately caught his attention. He could still make out that it was her — even in the dark. He could recognize that wild, blonde ponytail anywhere. She was changed out of her scrubs, a black rain jacket wrapped around her. She was leaning on the surgical intern, Lahela — his arm wrapped around her waist as she tucked her face into the side of his neck, he was carrying her messenger bag for her. He kissed the top of her head, before pulling her towards the subway station with him.

Ethan’s brows furrowed together furiously, his blue eyes turning stormy as he thought to himself, “That should be me."

_______________________________________________________________________

The sound of a vibration on the nightstand caused Jordynne to stir. Blindly reaching across, her fingers struggled to find her phone. Finally, she found purchase and moved the screen closer to her face — she had taken out her contacts, her glasses at home.

She had a few texts, two from her roommates Sienna and Elijah — asking if she was OK, why she wasn’t home. She quickly texted them back, telling them she stayed over at Bryce’s. Before flipping to the final text — it was an unknown number, but she didn’t need to ask who it was.

You okay, Rookie? sent 2:34 am

Jordynne felt the corner’s of her mouth tug up. She quickly typed back.

I’m better. Thank you. sent 2:36 am

She put the phone to her chest, closing her eyes for a moment. She strained her neck, looking behind her. Bryce was sleeping peacefully — his arms sprawled out and his chest to the mattress, his hair somehow still messily perfect. Biting her lip out of guilt, she picked up her phone to send another text.

I just meant that I didn’t want to get into it right there in the middle of the hallway by the way. Not that I didn’t want to talk to you. sent 2:37 am

She felt like she had barely hit send before he replied back.

Good. sent 2:37 am

See you in a few hours, Jordynne. sent 2:37 am

In the dark, she smiled at the thought. Placing her phone back on the nightstand next to her, she moved back to lay down.

She suddenly felt Bryce’s strong hands grab onto her, running up and down her side. “You okay?” He mumbled, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah,” She whispered back, letting him pull her into him. He placed his hand lazily onto her hip before he fell back asleep. Jordynne laid in the dark for a moment, staring at the dark silhouette of Bryce’s bedroom furniture. At that moment, she really wished she was home — but she wasn’t sure which home she actually meant.

_______________________________________________________________________

Leaning her head against the cafeteria window, Jordynne watched as pedestrians strolled by. She blinked lazily, letting the sun hit her face. She had a quiet moment between patients and had snuck down for a cup of coffee — a moment alone. Her fingers absent-mindedly playing with the rim of the paper cup.

“Rookie,”

She looked up and met Ethan’s blue eyes. He was holding two cups of coffee, the steam rising off of them.

“Why are you drinking that garbage?” He asked her, eyeing the half-filled cup sitting in front of her.

She let out a breathy laugh, “I seem to recall not having a fancy, private office with my own coffee machine.”

Swinging his legs around, he sat in front of her — placing the cup in front of her. “One day, Rookie.”

She smiled at him, before picking up the cup and taking a careful sip. She let out a happy sigh, before looking around them. They were the only people in the cafeteria at the moment — it was too early for lunch. “What are you doing down here?”

His eyes betrayed him for a moment, flickering with worry. “I came to find you.” He said honestly. “To make sure you were okay.”

She bit her lip, holding onto the cup for warmth, “I am.”

“That’s your second patient now.” She watched his Adam’s apple lower as he swallowed, “Who’s died.”

“Yeah, it is.” Her eyes shifted to the table. “And I also just referred a 7-year-old boy to Oncology with leukemia — who will probably die too.”

Ethan let out a sigh, his eyebrows furrowed as he listened to her.

“And immediately after, I got to tell a woman who came in with abominable pain that she was 5 weeks pregnant.” She bit her lip, a sad smile spreading across her face, “I get it now, Ethan. Or I’m starting to.”

He nodded at her, his eyes filled with understanding.

“Thank you for being there yesterday.” She said quietly. “You — you made me feel better.”

His mouth twitched into a smile, “Good.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment, enjoying their coffee.

“Why do you help me so much, Ethan?” The words left her mouth before she really realized.

He blinked in surprise, letting the question sink in. He gave her a small smile, shaking his head. “I want you to do well.”

“And the other interns?” She questioned.

Ethan didn’t miss a beat, “You’re not like the other interns.”

Their eyes studied each other for a moment, both of them taking another sip of their coffee. “Are we friends?”

Ethan squinted his eyes at her, “I don’t have many friends.”

She hesitated, before questioning him again, “Am I one of them?”

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Ethan nodded, “Yes.”

Jordynne couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face. She felt butterflies in her stomach as Ethan’s face matched hers — his lips spreading to reveal a row of perfect, white teeth. She couldn’t help staring — he looked so exhausted but so handsome at the same time — she couldn’t deny it. His blue eyes were bright in the light streaming through the cafeteria window, his stubble looked a little darker than usual, his hair styled back perfectly. She wondered if it was soft — it looked soft.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Huh?” Jordynne blinked as she snapped back to reality, finally realizing that Ethan’s mouth was moving.

His thick brows furrowed, “I said, did you talk to your brother?”

She flushed, realizing she had been caught daydreaming. Coughing she answered, “Oh yeah, I called him this morning. Jason understood. He said he has gone through something similar with his cases— when victims looked like me, or were around my age, in University. It helped.”

“I’m glad.”

The pair looked down at their empty coffee cups. She didn’t want the conversation to be over — but she knew Ramsey. As she finished thinking that, he pushed his chair back and stood up. “You have patients to attend to, Rookie.”

He left her sitting at the table alone, still holding her empty paper cup. Closing her eyes, she let out a loud sigh. God, what had she gotten herself into?

Part Nine

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