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lilac-5ky · 9 months

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TOJI AND VIRGIN READER!

The Favor (officeAU!Toji x virgin!Fem!Reader)

Plot: The first day you met Toji, he told you everything on his CV was a lie. Three years later, he's your beloved work husband, the one you go to when you decide it's time to lose your virginity.

Tags: Office!AU, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), agee gap (reader mid 20s, toji mid 30s), soft!dom toji, dirty talking, praising, pet names (sweetheart, darling, kid, wife, whore, slut, etc), aftercare, toji catches feelings after fucking you, daddy vibes without the word, friends to lovers dynamic, size kink, lube handjob, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Combined your idea with my intense need to write an office!au. Hopefully this turned out to your liking and you forgive me for writing this much filth LMAO

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For promotion, for demotion, for raises and for cuts, in overtime and in bureaucracy, until layoff do us part.

In the insufferable reality of Japanese corporate life, a work spouse exists to shoulder the burden of overdue deadlines and never-ending stacks of paperwork. A husband who, in spite of not being bound to you through marriage, has vowed to stick by your side until either one of you breaks free from the shackles of human resources; your work husband.

You met each other on your first day at the company, both of you passing interviews for the same lowly position of staffing coordinator.

Your first impression of candidate number 9 was that his suit wasn’t really his but was likely borrowed from someone whose bicep wasn’t the size of their thigh and calf combined. Your second impression was whispered to your ear as the dark haired man rose from his chair and paraded down the interview room, nonchalantly letting slip that his bachelor’s degree along with every bit of qualification on his CV had been faked.

Whether that was a declaration of war or a testament to his unparalleled confidence, you wouldn’t know until a week later when you were assigned to the same miserable office corner, sharing a desk, a title, and a secret whose value skyrocketed once you became acquainted with your work place’s imposing policies.

One word would get both him and his knowing smile fired, but the moment you shook hands with Fushiguro Toji and promised to get along, you signed yourself up for a long-lasting partnership.

Over the three years you worked together, each grew out of their initial post. Your all-nighters paid off and you got promoted to an HR assistant, meaning you didn’t have to memorize everyone’s coffee order any longer, while Toji flourished as the department’s eye candy.

He’d ceased pretending that his broad shoulders could be boxed in second-hand suit jackets, and instead opted for rolled-up button-ups with the occasional monochromatic tie—a fit that put his sculpted physique into full view and threw the entire female populace out of balance.

He was an objectively good-looking man who bordered on great. The type to be conscious of their effect on others, cutting corners with suggestive glances and smiling his way out of otherwise unforgivable report oversights. Every woman in the office was openly in love with him. Even your supervisor referred to him as the team’s ace and discreetly unbuttoned her cleavage in his presence.

You realized then, they’d sooner let go of you and your hard-earned master’s, than part with the department’s mascot.

Despite the differences in skill and appearance, your sense of kinship survived the passage of time. Perhaps you’d subconsciously fallen victim to his charms, but whenever you saw his thin brows furrow and his right foot threaten the unresponsive copy machine with a killing blow, you couldn’t look away. This is a favor; you’d remind him at every formal email and resume assessment you helped put together.

And favors are repaid.

While Toji couldn’t assist with payroll processing, he always had the scoop on who cheated on their spouse with whom and whose bra was filled with padding—which you didn’t find all that interesting, but turned into a fun game of guess the cheater during dull 9 a.m. meetings.

On mornings when the alarm was hurled at your bedroom wall, he made excuses for your absence, and on work dinners, he saved you a seat away from all the grabby drunks.

Toji was far from a good person. His mere presence in a company you’d broken your back to get into was a mockery of your efforts. He led others on and got into muffled shutouts over his phone behind the water fountain, where he thought no one was listening in.

That’s how you found out about his eight-year-old kid and the custody battle with his allegedly “psychotic” ex-wife. He didn’t know you knew because you never told him. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and it wasn’t your job to sort his out. As far as your work marriage was concerned, he was a good husband who diligently fulfilled his marital duties—all except one, which you feared the pretext of a favor wouldn’t begin to cover.

“Here’s your poison,” you slid the scalding coffee cup in his direction, mindful of the papers on his desk. “Black Americano with four shots of espresso and no sugar to compliment your wretched dark soul.”

Toji raised an open palm in your face, motioning for you to wait until he was done punching words on the keyboard and pressed save file. Your eyes were drawn to his fingers, threaded with faded scars that followed the expanse of veins down his wrists, dipping deep below the white cotton of his shirt. Another unsolved mystery you hadn’t gotten to the bottom of.

He brought the cup to his equally scarred lips, defying the steam spirals with a long-drawn sip. “Unnecessary intro, but thanks.” He gave a lazy smile. “Aren’t ya a sweetheart?”

You dropped your beverage on your side of the desk and swiveled your chair nearer. “Think you could do said sweetheart a favor?

“A favor, huh?” His breath was laced with caffeine. “Depends. If you’re asking for a buck, ‘fraid I’m all dried up till the end of the month.”

So he isn’t planning on paying for his order.

“I make more than you.”

“Doesn’t mean ya can’t find yourself in a pickle.”

You shook your head, stealing a sip of liquid courage from your mocha. How did people ask those things again?

Your contemplation lasted long enough for him to turn his head back to work, filling his home screen with enough tabs to distract you from his unfinished round of solitaire.

“What are you doing after work?” Your voice cracked into shards of uncertainty.

“Nice try.”He sneered. “You dug your own grave taking on the grievance procedures from the union. Climb out on your own.”

“Not everyone offloads their work load on others, Toji.” You rolled your eyes, scooting even closer to make sure only he’d be the recipient of your next words.

He sensed something was off because he wasn’t pretending to input random lines into the search bar anymore, and while he studied you, you studied him back. You had your doubts about this, and you weren’t sure he was your type either. You liked your men responsible and mature—like Nanami from sales, who would’ve been your first choice if your legs didn’t turn into jelly the minute you saw him.

Toji was the safe option. You talked to him. You joked with him. You were used to him, and more importantly, you trusted him. All the lack of qualifications in his job, he made up for with his experience in that other field you were a stranger to.

“Hey, kid.” His voice mellowed down with a beat of concern, a heavy hand landing on your shoulder. “If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, I—”

“Please have sex with me.”

“Make yourself at home.” He nudged your back into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following even after he’d pulled away.

Moving forward felt hard—as if you’d forgotten how to. You weren’t sure whether to wipe your shoes on the mat or stash them in the corner. You didn’t know which foot to put forth and what set of slippers to pick. Every decision suddenly mattered a lot more than it should.

You’d never been to Toji’s house before, and up until a few hours ago, you couldn’t fathom standing at his doorstep either. You weren’t that close so as to meet outside work hours, but you were about to get a lot more up close and personal.

The way he accepted your request with a mere, almost offensive, okay still boggled your brain. You’d considered every question he could possibly ask, painstakingly compiling your list of answers like a witness called to the stand, only for him to not speak a word of it—not even when it was just you and him and the solitude that came from enjoying lunch a hundred stories above Tokyo’s bustling streets.

He seemed to have forgotten all about your plans, up until he pulled over at the bus stop where you were waiting and stuffed you in the front seat of his car.

“You coming?”

Kicking your heels off your feet, you skipped straight through the hallway, your head turning left and right as if you were at an art gallery. You didn’t know what to expect, but a high-end apartment in the heart of Minato wasn’t it. Neither your income nor his justified an inox steel kitchen with mahogany wood flooring—let alone a direct view of the illuminated Tokyo Tower.

You were so bedazzled by the city skyline that you nearly missed the hastily buried socks peeking beneath the kotatsu, along with the cobwebs his untouched bookshelf flaunted. Much like his suit, his apartment was handed to him by someone whose love for both their books and spouse had run out.

“Whaddya think?”

Toji stalked behind you, his reflection in the glass becoming more defined with every step he took. He was holding something in each hand—two glasses whose orange liquid sparkled in place of the stars.

You turned around slowly, accepting your share with a small smile on your face.

“Your ex-wife has good taste.”

He blinked, taken aback for a split second. He wondered what gave it out—the pink slippers or the flipped-down picture frames you’d yet to notice—and somewhere down the line, he got the wrong idea, beaming with an unwarranted “Thanks.”

“I meant the house, not you.” Although you couldn’t blame him for his inflated ego when every female practically dropped their panties at his feet. Especially not when you were there to do the same.

Your teeth clicked sharply against the glass as you tilted your head and sipped on what tasted too sweet to be whiskey. Apple Juice?

“That’s not alcohol.” You stated.

“Ever thought of becoming a detective?” Toji padded toward the leather couch, spreading his thighs across the two middle cushions.

“Ever thought of becoming a comedian?” You retorted, squeezing in to his left. The furniture would’ve been big enough to fit you both, had he been considerate. “So what’s the joke? Too young to be drinking, or hard liquor ain’t for pretty girls like me?”

“Nah.” His head dropped on his shoulder, both propped against the headrest. “Need you sober for what’s about to happen.”

You mirrored his stance, your knees touching as you folded them on the smooth leather. “And what’s about to happen?”

“I think we both know, or else ya wouldn’t have followed me here.” He wet his bottom lip, pretty green eyes clouding dark.

A certain dryness gnawed at your throat, the pink color of his tongue appealing to you more than it should. You weren’t interested in Toji, but the strands of black that fell over his forehead painted a cuter image than you were used to seeing at the office. You wondered what he’d look like with his hair pushed back, all slick from beads of sweat rolling down his temples. And when you realized you couldn’t pin any of those thoughts on the alcohol, you took another sip, hurriedly averting your gaze.

“How many have? Women from work, I mean.”

You were surprised to hear him state “None,” and even more surprised that he claimed not to mix business with pleasure. You could think of at least three coworkers you suspected he fooled around with. At least so they bragged in the ladies’ room.

“So why bring me home?”

“‘Cause you asked.” Toji said gruffly.

“You fuck every woman who asks you to?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you reminded yourself to take his words with a grain of salt. He wasn’t interested in you any more than you were in him. This was simply platonic—almost transactional. He’d do what you asked, and then you’d pay him back with another, mundane favor like sorting mail in his stead.

You finished your drink, your eyes licking up the remaining drops at the bottom of the glass. “This line works?”

Toji shrugged. It probably did. He probably didn’t even have to open his mouth for it to work. While the moment you opened yours—

“Want more?” He motioned to your glass. You nodded, extending your arm, only for his expression to turn sour. “I’m not your fucking maid. Bottle’s on the counter.”

You sighed, getting up so he wouldn’t see your eyes roll at his comment as he shoved his glass in your face. Who’s the maid now?

Aimlessly, you strolled into the kitchen, taking longer than necessary to fill both your glasses. You didn’t mean to start snooping around, but you couldn’t help yourself from seeking a sign of his presence in his picture-perfect apartment. Houses typically reveal something about their residents, and while the display of crystal glasses spoke plenty of his ex-wife, there was no evidence of Toji’s personality.

You weren’t interested in him—just curious. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you picked up a frame stowed away behind an empty cookie jar.

Four smiles greeted you, the brightest belonging to a young girl with elongated bangs, holding a boy who strove to copy his sister’s expression. Their parents stood behind them, a beautiful woman with long brown hair tucked in a ponytail blissfully leaning against the shoulder of a Toji that seemed less happy the longer you processed his strained features.

“She left.” The proximity of his voice startled you. The frame danced between your fingers until he snatched it, his jutted-out chin betraying his annoyance. “Took the kids, left the house and me behind. Ain’t that what ya wanted to hear?”

You shook your head, about to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness on his parquet. However, the hostility that rose faded as soon as he threw the picture in the first open drawer and returned to the living room, leaving you to fetch your drinks. Then you remembered the phone calls. They weren’t on good terms.

“Having kids isn’t bad. Nor being divorced.” You handed him the glass, assuming your previous position on the couch. “Doesn’t ruin your cool guy image whatsoever.”

“Who said I care about that?” Toji snorted.

“Then you wouldn’t care if anything slipped in front of your fan club?”

“Mind your own fucking business.” He hissed. You chuckled. Sharing a couch wasn’t that much different from sharing a desk, and sharing two secrets was the same as sharing one.

“What are your kids’ names?”

“Kid,” he corrected. “Megumi.”

By the name, you assumed it was the girl. You were wrong. You tried to ask something about his son’s mother, but somehow you couldn’t find one right thing to say, since the woman in the photo wasn’t the boy’s biological mom either. You were lost. The more cryptic answers he gave, the more unanswered questions you ended up with.

Your plan took a backseat while Toji trod the sensitive topic of his divorce to that “bitch,” who’d taken his kid from him out of spite. The custody battle was tipped in her favor, courtesy of a legal system that’d rather see a child separated from its biological parent in the face of cold cash.

Megumi only visited every second weekend of the month, which explained his father’s eagerness to leave early on certain Fridays and come late on the following Mondays. He didn’t need to say this, but you understood his reasons for cheating his way into the company. A proper job looked good in court, and whatever earned him those scars was far from proper.

Both your hands emptied as you finished your second round of drinks. Your head would be buzzing if there was alcohol involved, but you didn’t miss it. Toji was hard to engage, and talking to him felt like running into one brick wall after another. However, working out of those dead-ends was preferable to clinking glasses with some guy who wouldn’t quit boasting about his Ivy League diploma or his burning passion for vocaloid singers—both cases reflecting the sad reality of blind dating in your twenties.

“So.” Toji drawled, a burly arm stretching behind your head. “Why you want me to fuck you? Can’t find good dick in the market?”

Your mind went blank in an instant, every excuse and curated version of the story vanishing when you needed them the most.

“I—um,” you cleared your throat, while your eyes scanned over his body.

There was a lot to take in: the fine lines of his pecs, highlighted under the taut white fabric; the black tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar; the hem of his shirt that dangled out of his fitted pants, exposing the tiniest window to the happy trail on his lower abdomen; his slim waist and his thick thighs; the curve of his bum; and the light touch of his fingers closing around your shoulder. You traced the same route of landmarks, finding yourself returning to his achingly handsome face and the playful curiosity in his eyes that had you shifting in your place.

All the reasons for someone to want to be fucked by this fine specimen of a man were right there, and you picked the most inclusive one. “Because you’re hot.”

The ends of his scar drew apart as Toji smiled a wolfish smile. He inched closer, your back hitting the armrest when his right hand caged your body between his arms and the couch.

“Bullshit.” A tickle from where his nose brushed against yours, and a thud from where your heart dropped inside your chest. “You think I wouldn’t know if ya had the hots for me, kid?”

“N-not everyone throws themselves at others.” You tried to reason.

“Maybe. But attraction comes with signs.” The side of his hand grazed the corner of your eyelid. “Batting your pretty lashes,” he trailed off, rough knuckles softly tracing the apple of your cheek. “Blushing your cheeks red.” The pad of his thumb swiped down your cupid’s bow. “Biting your lip raw.” He continued with his eyes, glancing at the skirt that lay high above your knees suggestively. “Pressing those plushy thighs together.”

“You do none ‘f those things.” Toji accused. “So why the sudden itch? Indulge me, and I’ll pound that pussy till ya scream.”

The promise of his words forced a gulp down your throat as your thighs involuntarily rubbed together. You started to reconsider. You didn’t want to fuck him just because any man would do. You wanted to fuck him because it was him and because every patch of skin he made contact with begged to be touched again.

“I’m a virgin.” You admitted, voice low, and stare even lower—utterly defeated as he flinched away in surprise.

You wondered what he’d say. A virgin at your age? was the most common response, followed by Is something wrong with you? and typically concluded with You sure you’re not a lesbian?

Everyone preaches how precious innocence is, but no one wants the pressure of taking it. What men really want is a woman who is both a saint and a slut—a woman who can suck their dick ten inches deeper than they can provide while simultaneously shying away from every insinuation of sex.

The problem is with the poor souls who belong in either category without adhering to the other, because squeezing your legs shut is just as faulty as spreading them open for the public.

Seeing as Toji remained silent, you realized you wouldn’t get an answer, and maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want to put a strain on your work relationship. It’d take a while to look him in the eye again, but in a month or two, you’d laugh about the incident over a cup of soggy store-bought noodles like nothing happened.

“Sorry for bothering you.” You mumbled as you picked up your last vestige of dignity and stood on your feet, only to be anchored by a set of fingers that tightly gripped your wrist.

“Sit.” His unfaltering gaze confirmed the sincerity of his command.

You thought about breaking free and dashing to the door. You thought about how much it’d actually hurt to let him ridicule you, and the tears started to build up on their own. And when you didn’t do as you were told, he towered over you with a palm that was eager to cup your cheek, tilting your face in position for him to print a rough kiss on your parted lips.

“I said fucking sit.” Toji repeated, while you contemplated how someone who spews words so harshly could have such soft lips.

Sheepishly, you fell back onto the couch, expecting him to follow suit and not kneel on the floor like he did. “What’s the story?” He asked, large hands taking hold of your knees and slowly rubbing them apart.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” You prayed that he couldn’t feel your heartbeat bounce across your body as if it were an empty vessel.

“With you, there always is.” He licked his lips as his eyes settled between your thighs, darkening with lust the second they were met with the damp patch in the middle of your pink lace knickers. “Wanna hear all about it while I feast on your little hole.”

“You’re not gonna fuck—”

“First things first, sweetheart. Gotta make sure y’are all prepped before I stuff you with my cock.” Toji smiled, pushing your skirt until it rolled over your stomach. “If ya gonna scream my ears off, better be from pleasure, mm?”

You nodded, watching as his slender fingers slid your underwear off and temporarily—you hoped—shoved it in his back pocket. You saw him marvel at the sight of your exposed cunt and wished you could peer into his brain to hear him curse himself for not coming up with this idea first.

You looked so pretty down there, your puffy clit safely tucked behind its hood while your lips shimmered with your wetness—the scent so intoxicating his pants tightened into a size too small.

He was already considering his next favor. Now that the door was open, he’d make sure it never closed again. Bending you over the copy machine was the front-runner. Getting a print of your tits squeezed against the scanner while he blows your back, his palm muffling out the pathetic sounds you let slip—he’d be lying if that wasn’t what he fantasized about whenever you refilled the ink cartridges for him.

“Ya ever touch yourself here?”

His thumb swiped over your clit, drawing an incomplete circle that ended with light flicks around the sensitive nub. Left and right. Up and down. Searching for the combination that’d have your body answer in place of your mouth, and when your hips bucked forward, he knew exactly where to press.

“Y-yes!” You whined, more as a reaction than an answer to his question.

“And ya ever push a finger in?” He continued, teasingly dragging his thumb between your lips.

“Just one. Rest hurt.”

“Mhm, bet they do.” He hummed as he tasted you on his finger, exaggerating the suck with a soft pop. “Ever had a guy kiss ya there before?”

Toji gave his own answer as he buried his head in your pussy, the sticky mix of his saliva and your juices trickling down your entrance while he made out with your clit. You struggled to keep your thighs apart, the raspy grunts at the back of his throat vibrating against your mound in joint symphony with your breathy moans. His tongue felt so good soaking on your slick that you felt yourself melting into a pool of pleasure.

“Get talkin’ or I’ll stop.” He warned, slowing down with broad, near-maddening, strokes that occasionally dipped between your folds.

“I wanted to w-wait,” you panted. “Wanted to fall in love first, but then I waited too long, and—ngh, fuck, right there!” Toji pinched your folds apart, his stare lecherous as he sucked the puffy pearl into his warm mouth.

Your body jerked in response, the leather squeaking hard beneath your bared ass. You weren’t sure at what point interest surpassed curiosity, but the signs were all there, manifesting as heat in your cheeks and blood that threatened to drop from your chewed-up lip.

His jade eyes narrowed into a shrewd reminder. Putting your thoughts in order was impossible, but if you stopped, so would he.

“Everyone ‘round me started d-doing it, and I was the only one l-left.” You tried to regulate your breathing through your nose, your throat turning hoarse from all the strain. “Went on a bunch of blind dates, but the guys were t-turned off, and—how the fuck are you so good at this?”

Toji chuckled, the pink tip of his tongue parting your lips in a languid motion that made you shudder. “Let’s just say my marriage didn’t fall apart ‘cause of this.”

He mounted your knees atop his shoulders and neared your entrance, with his middle and ring fingers ghosting over the softness of your pulsing slit. “Gonna use my fingers now. Be a good girl and cum on them, will ya?”

The first digit pushed forward, much thicker than any of your fingers. You felt so full already—nails digging into the cushions, while he thrust in and out of your walls, curling the lone pad to find a spot so sweet it elicited a moan of equal sweetness.

“Ya did well to come to me.” He continued, his raspy voice effortlessly sexy. “Kids these days don’t know shit ‘bout pleasing a woman.”

The veins on his wrist flexed along with his scars as his ring finger joined in the action to defy your previous claim. There was no pain. Only immense waves of pleasure leaking through your squinted eyes as hot tears beaded your eyelashes.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’.” He praised, repeatedly hitting the swollen bundle of nerves inside your throbbing cunt, bringing you closer to the edge with each thorough pump.

“Maybe I was wrong, hm? Maybe that’s what ya wanted all along. I know I did. Fucking wanted my hands on this pussy since I first saw ya fidget with your little skirt at that interview.”

“Toji—”

He dived between your legs again, his hand maintaining the same erratic pace even while his tongue hungrily lapped at your clit. Your head lolled back, the tension in your guts rapidly building up until you came undone, your pussy clenching and creaming around his calloused fingers.

You’d never finished so hard on your own, the tremors of your orgasm ringing in your ears and jogging your memory.

Your first impression on that day was sadness, right? Sadness over the wedding band the handsome stranger hid in his pocket right before entering the building, thinking no one else caught sight of it, and embarrassment about how your impure thoughts for a married man followed you into the shower every night after work.

“Atta girl.” A present-day and very-much divorced Toji licked his lips into a smile. “Their fucking loss.”

His knee pressed into the gap between your thighs as he stood on his feet and prompted you to open your lips. You took his fingers in your mouth, licking your cum off while your chest heaved with one labored breath after the other.

“See how good ya taste?” Toji cooed, rhythmically fucking his fingers on your tongue before removing them. “Sweeter than honey.”

“Thought you didn’t like sweet things.” His coffee order came in mind.

“How ‘bout we make an exception?”

You weren’t sure what got into you when you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him forward, kissing him with such vigor you’d never experienced. You always thought of losing your virginity as checking an item off your bucket list. You didn’t imagine you could ever lust after someone the way you currently lusted after Toji, your desire escalating into an all-consuming need.

His tongue moved as skillfully in your mouth as it did when it explored your pussy, dancing with your own rather than overpowering it. You liked kissing him. You liked kissing him so much that you wanted to incorporate it into your morning hellos and your evening goodbyes, dragging yourselves into an endless loop of returned favors.

Without breaking the kiss, Toji hoisted you up from the couch and held you in his arms, his palms finding the perfect excuse to grab onto your ass while he carried you across rooms you didn’t care enough to see. A door creaked behind your back, and soon you were tossed onto a large body of endless softness—a bed, you realized as Toji hastily shoved a couple of pillows behind your head.

“Ever heard of that stupid nickname that goes ‘round work?” He whispered in your ear while his fingers worked on undoing your blouse. “How they call ya my work wife?” His palms slid around your ribs and back to unhook your bra. “Guess this makes it our wedding night, heh.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a chuckle. “Don’t you feel any shame calling me your wife when you’re about to fuck me on your ex-wife’s bed?”

“My bed now, and what I say fucking goes.” He stripped your body from every garment, salaciously gawking at your nude figure on his (her) satin sheets.

You didn’t feel too bad about showing your body, but his stare was almost intrusive—especially with how he hadn’t lost a single article of clothing himself.

“Such a gorgeous body, wife.” He dragged out the final syllables, hoping to elicit a reaction separate from the soft pants you let out as he caressed your soft curves—both much softer than the bedding you were splayed across, liquid velvet in his hands. “Such a good little wife, saving herself for her husband to deflower.”

“Why thank you, husband.” You chortled, cupping his face in a deep kiss.

You knew Toji was the right choice. Not because touching him felt like winning the lottery or because he knew exactly what he was doing, but because he could’ve made this situation a lot more awkward and didn’t. He made your first time feel special, granting your wish of doing it with someone you loved, even if it was all an illusion that’d fade come tomorrow morning.

You almost thanked him as he began to unbutton his shirt, the display of corded muscles and pale scars breaking the dam between your legs. Whatever your type might’ve once been, was no more. It was all Toji, with his clenched fists lifting the weight of his brawny, veiny arms, his shoulders so wide you could ride on them, and the self-complacent smirk your stupefied expression brought to his lips.

“This ain’t an exhibit, sweetheart.” He mocked. “You can touch all ya want.”

He didn’t need to say it twice for your palms to roam his body, starting from his neck and slowly gliding down his torso, feeling out the tension in his steeled abdomen. His skin was smooth, except for the few unruly hairs leading down to the bulge in his crotch, whose sight alone made you lick your lips and buck your hips into his. You wanted to see the rest of him.

“You are the hottest divorcee I know.” You smiled earnestly.

“Ya know lots of ‘em?” Toji cocked his head while you shook yours with a giggle. “Don’t be so flattering.”

“I do have a great-aunt…”

“Oh, please.” He groaned, allowing you to laugh it out. He didn’t like how his bottom lip twitched as he struggled to contain a chuckle of his own. He’d long sworn off girls that made his heart skip a beat.

“Think y’are ready?” You nodded. Repeatedly.

Digging his knees into the bed, he stretched an arm toward the nightstand, fishing for a bottle in one of the drawers. Lube, you realized as he settled it beside you to remove his pants, flinging them along with his boxers to the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, an expression that didn’t look too good considering fear was about the last emotion you should be experiencing.

He was packing in every sense of the word. Long, thick, and definitely heavy as it hung above his hefty balls, the reddened tip pointing at your entrance. It wasn’t like you’d never seen a cock before. Porn existed, and so did perverts in trench coats, but comparing either one to him was both disrespectful and a huge understatement.

“Don’t go cold on me now, mm? It will fit.” He read your mind, taking your hand in his and slotting the bottle in your fist. “Prepped you so good for it. You’ll see; you’ll like this more than my fingers.”

“Promise.” He added, squeezing your hand reassuringly. You chose to trust him, and when he brought your other hand to his shaft, you knew what he was asking you to do.

The bottle spurted a thick glob of liquid that your palm smeared all over his cock head. Toji watched with bated breath as you stroked his length, each thorough pump of your delicate hands warming him up.

He deserved a pat on the back for not cumming right then and there—the distinction between the clear lubricant and his creamy precum becoming more prominent while he throbbed and twitched in your tight grasp. He thought about how much tighter your walls would be, milking every drop he had to offer while you writhed beneath him, with little ah-ah-ah’s and Toji please’s complimenting the squelching of your tight virgin cunt.

“That’s enough.”

He pulled your hand away and cracked the bottle open once more, rubbing a small quantity between his fingers and then scissoring them in your walls. You clung onto him, your hips chasing after his touch. Cute.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” Toji leaned close enough so that your field of view was consumed by his face. “Keep your eyes on me, breath in ‘n’ out, and it won’t hurt one bit. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Your legs were parted as he ran his cock between your folds and pressed down firmly, his hand moving to your hip once he guided the first inches inside.

Toji was the first to react as he sank in deeper, about two-thirds in when he felt your pussy snare around him like a vice, the warmth of your walls making him curse under his breath. His last fuck was less than a weekend ago, and yet he felt like one of those loser kids he scorned earlier. He’d forgotten just how good being inside a virgin was—a one-and-done deal that would cease to amaze him after he fucked you into his shape.

“All good?” He remembered to ask, taking your strained yes at face value.

Small creases formed over your forehead, contorting your expression into a pained wince the further he sheathed himself into your wet cavern—and when his words weren’t enough, his lips took over. He kissed your worries away and cradled your breasts in his palms, doing everything in his power to keep the pain to a minimum as his hips met with your pelvis, bone against bone and skin against skin, until he finally bottomed out.

A whimper cut your kiss short, and for a second he feared tears would stream from your glassy eyes, not considering the possibility of your shaky legs wrapping around his back and your swollen, pretty lips calling out his name with a stuttered moan.

“F-fuck me, Toji. Please—fuck, I need you so badly.” You begged, dropping the pretense of composure.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your little virgin pussy?”

“Y-yes, Toji, yes!”

“Yes, what, doll?” He teased. “Say it.”

“Please be my first, Toji.”

His grin turned feral in a heartbeat, your words stirring something in him that he could not explain.

He was prepared to spend the entire night fucking you at a snail’s pace, buttering you up with praises, and pampering you as if you were a golden egg goose, but now he didn’t have to. He could fuck you exactly how he pleased—fold your knees onto your stomach and hold down onto your thighs, pussy all exposed to where he could watch his cock pound into your hole and hear each and every strike of his balls against the fat of your ass—and you would take it.

But when he looked down and saw the ring of red that’d formed around his shaft, he had a change of heart. Maybe another time.

Planting his fingers on your hips, he withdrew slightly, purposely aligning his tip with the roof of your cunt. He didn’t have to go hard to make you happy. All he had to do was hit that one spot, and you’d be coming back for more. Having a steady thing wouldn’t hurt either. It was convenient—certainly better than burning gas driving across town just to pick up some random slut he’d tire of five minutes into her over-the-top screams. At least you lived close by.

With lavish strokes, he rolled his hips against your own, dipping forward to grind his pubic bone against your mound. It didn’t take long for the stimulation to get overwhelming, your hair falling from your strict work up-do all over your sweaty forehead while you thrashed around the sheets, huffs escalating into whiny moans.

“Sh-shit, gonna cum, Toji.” You managed, though there was no real need to tell him.

Your body responded perfectly to his, wetness gushing over his cock while your walls tightened impossibly around him. He fucked you through your high, wrapping his arms below your shoulders and muting your blissful sobs to chase after his own release. Your breasts were squeezed against his pecs, pebbled nipples making him regret not giving them the proper attention.

This wouldn’t be the last time. Your body was like a playground to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t done playing.

“My fucking work wife.” Toji grunted possessively in your ear, nipping at the lobe. Only his lower half moved, a constant snap of hips bouncing through the room as the second lewdest sound after the ones you traded. “Wanna send your ass crawling to work on all fours. That’ll show them, mm? Show them who fucked you so good. What a—fuck, what a good slut y’are f’me. From a virgin to my whore—hah, make ‘em all so jealous.

“Shhhhit, ya like that?” He interpreted your clenching as he willed. “Wanna start a rumor? Fuck on every desk, in every stall, and have everyone know?”

“Yes, Toji! Yesyesyes, want everyone to know you f-fucked me.”

You went back and forth between panting out his name and chanting yes, as those were the only two words you could mindlessly repeat. He wasn’t joking about making you scream. You were on the verge of passing out, so engrossed in ecstasy that you’d lost track of how many times you’d climaxed.

“‘s too much, T-Toji!” You begged, burying your head in the curve of his neck and breathing in his musk. You were both so sweaty, glued together like two puzzle pieces.

“One more, sweetheart. ‘m so close—wanna feel ya cum with me.”

He toyed with your clit until he started to fall out of pace, drawing his cock out before it was caught in the spasms of your pussy. A hefty load burst in his fist as he jerked himself off to your fucked-out form, hot drops of cum spraying your stomach like creamy droplets of rain.

Neither of you realized how soaked the sheets were until Toji left the bed, his eyes not faking their surprise. You didn’t seem to be in that much pain, and yet the amount of blood and wetness was at least equal to carnage.

Would it be a dick move to task you with his laundry?

He spared you a glance, not bothering to hide his smugness. Your legs were still trembling, your breasts puffing up in your struggle to breathe through your agape lips. He was tempted to tell you off—something cheesy like, “Want somethin’ in your mouth that badly?”

“Hey, kid. You are not dead—are you?” He asked jokingly, laughing through his nose as you found the strength to flip him off. Now that the effects of your orgasm were wearing off, so was your obedience.

“How’d ya like your first time?” A thumbs-up this time. “A’right. C’mere.”

The longer he let the stain settle, the more of a bitch it’d be to remove it. That’s what Toji told himself as he picked you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom, returning to the bedroom only to roll the sheets into a ball he’d later discard in the washing machine. He wasn’t avoiding looking at your cute face, and he definitely didn’t think of your weakened infant-like state as cute when he scrubbed your thighs clean with a wet towel either.

A weird image sparked in his memory, one from the many nights you’d spent working side by side at a dimly lit office. He remembered you ordering him takeout and looming over his head like a vulture while he went neck-to-neck with the vicious spreadsheet program. You insisted on tutoring him, claiming your dressy outfit was a result of canceled plans—even though you kept stealing glances at the clock—and staying with him until the wee hours when you didn’t have to.

You really were a sweetheart, an angel, and all the other terms of endearment he used on you knowing they made your lips stretch and your eyes sparkle. But that wasn’t for you to know.

“Toji?” Your voice jolted him out of his reverie—frail, but not as frail as the hands that wrapped around his own to snatch the towel.

What could he say to make you leave without any harsh feelings coming back to bite him in the ass?

He pondered his options while you bent forward from where he’d seated you on the counter by the sink. You held his limp dick in your palm, gently wiping the dried blood and cum that clung to his girth.

It was sickening how quickly he stiffened, all ready to ram it in your pussy and fuck you with the mirrored view of your ass in the backdrop, but what truly made his guts churn was the little cheeky smile you beamed with. He stood by his words. Virgins were the biggest sluts.

The towel dropped to the floor as you pointed his cock at your entrance, and that was all the convincing he needed.

“Fine.” Toji sighed, pinning your wrists on the cold quartz counter top. “You can stay the night, but mention work and I’m kicking ya out.”

This is definitely not how you say it.

You made it to the office the next day after a brief raid on your apartment. Going to work in your previous day’s clothes screamed, “Look at me! I got laid!” And as fun as creating all those fantasies with Toji was, you could do without earning “Hated Employee of the Month.” Everyone hated you for being friends with him as is.

He waited until you’d changed into a presentable outfit and dropped you off a block further away for precaution. You shared your final kiss in the car, wasting a whole fifteen minutes sucking each other’s faces off like teenagers at a drive-in. Dating a colleague was against the rules, and you didn’t want to date Toji either. Not that he’d asked. Not that you expected him to ask.

Losing your virginity was a lot more complicated than you thought.

He counted on you to bring coffee, and you would have if an intense craving for spicy tuna onigiri didn’t win you over. The convenience store was right around the corner, and its coffee was honestly not that bad if you squinted your eyes and fooled your senses a bit.

You grabbed two onigiri from the stand—in case Toji felt like stealing yours—along with an apple juicebox, both as a means of thanking and poking fun at him. You paid for the items and walked to the office, nauseated by the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach. You should’ve really eaten something instead of having your final hookup at the breakfast table.

A few people greeted you in and out of the elevator to the forty-seventh floor, some commenting on your looking less gloomy than usual, but that was about it. The world spun the same way it did even before you had sex. No big change or mind-blowing epiphany; just a euphoric feeling of accomplishment that dissipated the moment you saw the stack of documents waiting on your desk.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Toji magically sprouted from behind, loaded binders balanced on his arms—the same arms that’d lavished you with affection all night long. “They had a fall out at one of the subsidiaries, and now we gotta clean up their shit.”

And back to reality we go.

“Where’s my coffee?” He searched for a cup on his desk.

You pushed your desperation aside and held the juice to his face with a smile that turned awkward the longer he took to accept it.

“It’s um, you know.” You stepped closer, placing the box atop his mountain of files. “Thank you.”

“Also, got you this, so don’t even think of taking mine.” You balanced the onigiri beside the juice and plopped down on your chair, an antsy, blushing mess that refused to meet his stare until he looped an arm around your headrest and attached his mouth to your ear.

“Care to do me a favor?”

#Toji x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x y/n #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #toji <3 #toji headcanons #toji fic #toji x you #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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gegewrites · 2 years

Text

mr.whites daughter 13-destruction

Next day Your pov-

I walked into sauls office at 8, bavk in my usual clothing which consisted of jeans and a graphic t-shirt, the one I'm wearing may or may not be Jesses, that doesn't matter. I opened the door to his office and closed it behind me. "You know why I'm here." I stated as he spun around in his chair. "A day I've been dreading." He groaned. "I bet you have been." I giggled,"I'm working for gus, but you said-" "I'll take the money, layer it into the cash flow here, you will get all ur money, with the exception of 15% going to me." He nodded. "Fine by me." I shrugged and walked over to his desk,"With that being said, it's been great working with you Saul." "You as well (y/n)." I lent out my hand and he shook it,"now get out of here and go make a lot of fuckin cash." "That's the plan!"

I made it the lab a half an hour later, the mat is decently far from my house but that doesn't bother me. I walked towards the drying machine and the worker who was there pressed the button and it whirred foward. I walked behind it, my whole vision being enveloped in red. I walked down the stairs. seeing that the lights in both rooms were on. So I walked in, one door after the other. Till my shoes finally made contact with the red Steel wired floor. "You made it." I heard my dad say, I looked down and saw him with another chemist. "Yes I made it," I walked down the spiral stairs,"I'm sorry, who are you?" "I'm Gale." The new man stood up and walked over towards me with a mug in his hands,"I just took Walter through a interesting coffee brew." "We'll I'm (y/n)." I took the coffee from his hand and shook his hand,"this is the coffee?" "Yes." He nodded with a smile, I took a sip, and immediately I was in awe. "Gale are you single?" I laughed as I took another sip,"this coffee is amazing." "I have the notes on how it's done if you'd like to read it over." He gestured with head over to said station and my dad was sitting over there. "I'll definitely have to take a look." I nodded "Why are we making meth when we could run the best coffee shop ever?" My dad chuckled. "I know to answer to that." I smiled as I put my cup down on the steel table behind him. "(y/n) can I ask you a question?" Gale asked and I nodded,"what are your qualifications?" "I'm a pharmaceutical chemist...sort of I dropped out of college, worked at a bar, and uh...I knew a lot of people who sold and made meth." I shrugged. "Oh." He said and my dad spoke up. "She's a good chemist, she's got her fathers brain." My dad chuckled and I smiled, it felt nice to have my dad say that. He said it a lot when I was growing up. "You're-you're his daughter?" I picked up my mug. "His oldest daughter, I'm 24." I glanced over to the lab and sighed,"can we get cooking? I'm really excited to use some of these machines again." "Oh You've used them?" Gale asked, full interest seeping into his tone. "Learned how to in my second year of college, I dropped out in my third. Went on a trip to phizer, took us through a run of their lab." I nodded. "We'll then, let's get cooking then." Dad raised his brow at me.

We cooked for what only felt like an hour but was actually the whole day. I was writing on the clipboard the amount we made today when a glass of wine was placed down in front of me. I looked up at the person and it was Gale. "Thank you." I smiled,"we made 30 pounds today." I stood up grabbing the glass and walking with Gale over to my dad by the coolers. "30 pounds?" My dad asked me in surprise,"we use to only be able to make 2 or 4." "That's what happens when you move out of an RV and into a super lab." I smiled and took s sip of the wine,"holy shit this is good." "It's bogle." Gale said. "To Gale and his amazing taste in wine." I raised my glass and all three of them tinked together and we all took a sip. I glanced down at my wrist to my watch and noticed it was 8. So I quickly shot the rest of the wine in a very informal manner and looked at the two,"I have to go." "You do?" My dad asked and I nodded. "Yes cause I have someone at home waiting for Me." I nodded,"thank you Gale for the wine and the amazing coffee, I will see you both tomorrow." "Alright then, see you tomorrow (y/n)." Gale smiled and I walked away but I heard footsteps following me and I turned and saw my dad. "Thank you for doing this with me." He put his hand on my shoulder,"really." "Of course." I smiled and hugged him, his chin sat ontop of my head and then he kissed my hair,"I'll see you tomorrow." "See ya." I smiled and walked up the stairs and I left.

Jesses house- I got to jesses at 8:42, I closed my door and locked my car as I saw that same trunk that was there the other day, except this time, it's lights were on and it drove past me. I didn't see who was in it, so I shrugged it off. I walked up to the house. I grabbed my key and unlocked the door and swung it open. I closed and locked the door. "How was it?" I looked towards the two steps that lead out of the living room. "Uh amazing!" I smiled walking over to him,"we have this lab assistant, his names Gale, he's interesting to say the least." Yeah?" I nodded and gave him a kiss,"did you drink wine before you left?" "Gale brought a bottle." I nodded as we walked up the stairs,"I'm gonna take a shower." "Alright."

Jesses pov- Next morning-

I was doing more work on the list, and while I was doing it. I got a phone call, so I picked up my phone and it was Mr.white. "Yo." It was silent,"mr.white?" He hung up so I put my phone down and i went back to the list. "Hey." I heard (y/n) say as she sat down. "Hey." I smiled and gave her a kiss,"your dad just called me." "About what?" I shrugged. "Hung up, didn't say anything." My phone then rang again, so I picked it up,"yo?" "Man! That Heisenberg is taking the rv." I heard badger say. "What?" "Something about the DEA man. Bringing it to a junkyard to like destroy it." I grabbed my keys off the table and stood. "Badger get me that address!" I yelled,"(y/n) come on!" "I'm coming!" She yelled as I ran out of the house, I heard her close and lock the door. "Get me that address!"

"Yo!" I yelled as I stepped into the rv, (y/n) following behind me,"the fuck are you doin man?!" "Oh shit." He whispered and he rushed to the back window and looked out it,"you brought him to us." "What are you talking about?" I asked and (y/n) locked the RV door. I walked to the window and I saw a black truck outside, the same truck (y/n) saw the other day,"oh fuck." "It's him isn't it?" She asked,"it's hank?" "Ya." Mr.white nodded. We heard the truck door close and we locked all the windows and closed the curtains. "Motherfucker." (y/n) whispered as she leaned against the counter, we saw hanks silhouette, and heard the rattling of the locked window. We al stayed silent, as he walked and tried to open another window. "The hell do we do?" I whispered to mr.white as the doorknob rattled, we stepped back staying silent and just stared. "You lead him right to us." Mr.white looked at us both,"right to us." "Mr.pinkman! You wanna add resistance of arrest to your charge!? If you give urself up I'll let (y/n) off the hook!" Hank yelled and I stayed silent. A few seconds later, he was trying to pry the door open, so (y/n) went and sat against the door, holding it closed as Walter pushed it shut right next to her. "Mr pinkman, this is your last chance to do it the easy way!" Hank yelled and then we heard another voice. "You got a warrant?" It was some other old man. "Excuse me?" Hank asked. "I'm the owner of this yard, so you're trespassing, and that RV is obviously locked, so now you're breaking on, so I'm gonna ask again, you got a warrant?" "Don't need a warrant for an arrest." He chuckled, I looked down at (y/n) as she stood up slowly and backed away from the door. "You haven't witness anyone go into this RV. It's locked. You're just fishing, not gonna work for an arrest, you got no cause." The owner said and we saw the tape come off of the Door. "You see those?" Hank said as another hole shun light im. Walter and I backed up as (y/n) sat in the oassanger seat,"those are gun shot holes." "How could you have known they were there?" Walter whispered to me,"say it, how coukd you have known they were there before taking off the tape." "What? No!" I whispered back. "Say it."(y/n) whispered and I sighed and I did it. "How could you have known they were there before taking the tape off!" I yelled as (y/n) stepped towards us slowly. "Apparent probable cause!" Hank yelled "This is ny private domicile and I will not be harassed." (y/n) whispered. "This is my private domicile and I won't be harassed! Bitch!" I yelled and hank laughed. "You want a warrant! Fine! I'll have my boys come and bring one!" He yelled and we saw him walk away. "Can't we just...ram him? Reverse into his truck?" I asked panicking,"he's gonna Fuckin shoot me." "He's not-" I cut (y/n) off. "He's gonna Fuckin shoot me!" I whisper yelled as mr.white sat down,"mr.white what do we do?!" "I know." (y/n) said, she grabbed her phone and dial someone up,"hey Saul, I need a favor....I need you to place a call to hank Schrader...number is in my file I have his name, his wife's name, everything. Just make it an emergency..." I leaned against the counter ,"even better, make it quick." She hung up and walked over to the back of the rv. "What's he gonna do?" I asked. "Marie's getting a airlifted to the hospital." She smiled. She peaked out of the window and looked back at us quickly. "How is she?!" We heard hank say and his door close, soon we heard it skid out. "I'm Fuckin dead." She muttered as she walked to the door of the rv,"I'm Fuckin dead." "(y/n)." Walter said as he followed her out and ao did I,"(y/n) he has no idea about you." "He's knows I'm with Jesse! He's seen me at his house for the past few days!" She yelled. "He hasn't interviewed you, or even brought you in! You are fine!" I noticed the owner walking back to us and we just looked towards him.

Your pov-

The Industrial fork lift picked up the rv and put it into the smasher thing? I'm gonna be honest with you, I have no idea what the hell this thing is and I didn't really care. The three of us were watching were we started be destroyed. Completely smashed and packed together tightly. All the memories and fights and well...death, all just being packed and packed together. I felt jesses arm wrap around my shoulders and I leaned into him. The main reason why were all here is because of Jesse. The reason why I'm literally working in a super lab is because of Jesse...and we'll my fathers formula. "As much as this is sad...it's kinda like satisfying..." Jesse whispered to me. "You know what would be satisfying?" I looked up at him. "What?" He raised his brow and I leaned up to his ear. "Slapping you." I looked down at me with wide eyes and a smirk. "I mean...I wouldn't say no." He winked and I laughed. "Screw you." I rolled my eyes. "When and where? You pick." He kissed my temple. "Please stop." I heard my father say,"just...both of you shut up."

#jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman fanfiction #jesse pinkman smut #jesse pinkman x reader #Breaking Bad #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad smut

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rising-lotus · 1 year

Photo

The Hunt, 3/2/22

Logs from a hunt based roleplaying event! Rising and crew travel to the Fringes, something has been terrorizing the people at night! They say it’s the spirit of a deceased magitech colossus named Bellator that caused a ruckus a few months back, but Rising isn’t so sure...

Rising Lotus stood waiting for the group, eyes straining to read a map as daylight was quickly fading. "Oh good." she looked up at the group as they approached, tucking the map away. "Was gettin' some more infor 'bout what we're after. Somehow I doubt it'd be the spirit of a machine, even if it is the one I'm thinkin' off..."

Augusta Aventurine gazes upon you in deep reflection.

Riylli Aliapoh: "I'd suggest makin' a visit to Stillglade Fane. The teachers there would be able to help you get through a mental block if that's your issue, and if not then they'd at least be able to tell you what the issue is! If theres anything good about Gridania it's that place."

Augusta Aventurine: "The flyer did say something about a machine... is it a leftover Garlean machina from the war?"

Reille Halleina: "It's probably just imperial desserters."

Zoronado Tatanado beams at Riylli Aliapoh.

Ziv Zorasch: "I've battled many spirits any many machines but never the spirit of a machine..."

Ziv Zorasch seems lost in thought.

Rising Lotus: "Well, the locals are sayin' it's the ghost of a magitech that caused a ruckus back there sometime back, which I can only assume they mean is Bellator." she crossed her arms. "But we know his remains were takin' away..an' if he did, or does have a spirit, I don't think he'd be hauntin' people, let alone killin' 'em in the night."

You draw your weapon before Augusta Aventurine.

Ziv Zorasch furrows his brow.

Augusta Aventurine ponders over you.

Zoronado Tatanado does a backflip.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Probably a voidsent, the Twelveswood is full of 'em. This may not be the forest proper, but I doubt they'd care"

Rising Lotus: "Stay on you're guard, we ain't know what we're up against. I'm assumin' some sort of broken garlean thing, but we'll see. We're headed southward, to some place called Dimworld. I've heard it's swampy so try to stay on the path."

Augusta Aventurine nods to you.

Ziv Zorasch made a sour expression at Rising's explanation, feeling the power welling up inside him as his emotions simmered. "A populace terrorized. Innocent lives lost. Say no more." He reached into the darkness of his heart and conjured a katana for protection.

Riylli Aliapoh: "I wonder if a voidsent can posess a Garlean mech... I cant think of a reason why they couldnt"

Rising Lotus: "They're in statues an' stuff, so maybe?"

Ziv Zorasch: "It wouldn't surprise me. Voidsent have a way of working their corruption into all sorts of things..."

Reille Halleina: "It could certainly pass as a body by voidsent qualifications."

Augusta Aventurine seems lost in thought.

Rising Lotus looks around the swampy area, a light fog hiding most of the broken woods. "...well this certainly looks like some place you'd find somethin' like that. Wonder what happened down here."

Augusta Aventurine: "I wonder what kind of voidsent could possess a magitech..."

Reille Halleina passes by Zoro and whispers "BOO!"

Zoronado Tatanado smirks confidently at Reille Halleina.

Zoronado Tatanado: "It'll take more than that to spook a Bulwark Knight!"

Riylli Aliapoh: "I love a good swamp... Hey, you guys wanna see something cool?" Riylli asks excitedly

Augusta Aventurine nods to Riylli Aliapoh.

Augusta Aventurine: "I do!"

Ziv Zorasch ponders over Riylli Aliapoh.

Zoronado Tatanado ponders over Riylli Aliapoh.

Reille Halleina feels like this might be a loaded question coming from Riylli. "Suuure."

Rising Lotus | While it was still dusk, the fog and trees of the Dimwood make it quite dark. "Hmm...should've brought some lanterns..." she glances to Riylli. " It might attract attention...so sure. Maybe you'll lure it out."

Riylli Aliapoh needs little encouragement to show off, so with Augusta's response she eagerly rushes to the side of the swamp and pulls out a shard of crystal from her pocket. Those familiar might recognize it as the golem core shard she uses to summon her familiar. Her ringbands begin to glow, and she tosses it into the swamp

Rising Lotus: "The locals say they see red eyes in the fog before it strikes, see keep an' eye out for that though. Wheter they're eyes or jus', lights? Like from magitech?"

Augusta Aventurine scans the area around Riylli Aliapoh.

Zoronado Tatanado: "Careful... I think these are goosefish waters. They'll grab you by the leg and drag you into the muck if you're not careful."

Riylli Aliapoh waits there for a second as the water glows, then out crawls a little goopy friend!

Riylli Aliapoh: "Ta-da!"

Augusta Aventurine motions joyfully to the mudpie.

Augusta Aventurine: "That's a cute little guy!"

Ziv Zorasch looks around.

Reille Halleina: "Ah, it's a little mudperson."

Rising Lotus: "Hmm, would've figured it'd be to watery to do that. Looks pretty neat, maybe it can throw itself in the beast's eyes to blind it!"

Ziv Zorasch stayed on the lookout for potential threats--his green eyes darting alertly around the shadowy corners of the swamp which he otherwise found quite comfortable.

Riylli Aliapoh: "It needs a name, if anyone's got any ideas. The dirt golem I named Pummel"

Augusta Aventurine gazes upon the mudpie in deep reflection.

Rising Lotus: "Uhh...Rolling Filth."

Reille Halleina: "Hmmmm, Riylli, I thought you were trying to avoid water aether, your little friend seems a little damp." Reille sounds more than a little smug.

Augusta Aventurine: "Hmmm, how about... Squirmel!"

Zoronado Tatanado: "I'd go with Podorodo."

Atreus Sergius has logged in.

Zoronado Tatanado keeps a watchful eye over his surroundings.

Riylli Aliapoh crosses her arms and glares at Reille. "Not my fault mud holds water so well y'know."

Ziv Zorasch tries hard to concentrate.

(Riylli Aliapoh) (I like how Rising and Zoro gave race appropriate names))

Reille Halleina smiles patronizingly at Riylli, "It's almost as if aether works better when balanced."

Riylli Aliapoh: "Hmm... All good names, but none of them feel *right*. Lets keep goin' for the bounty, and if y'get anymore ideas shout 'em out!"

Augusta Aventurine nods to Riylli Aliapoh.

Rising Lotus nods. "Aye, stay to the bridge, by the looks of that fella you could get your foot stuck in there."

Augusta Aventurine concentrates on the mudpie.

Riylli Aliapoh: "It IS balanced. Earth and earth. How can y'get more balanced than that!"

Zoronado Tatanado is taken aback.

Zoronado Tatanado: "Did you see that?!"

Augusta Aventurine: "Hm? See what?"

Reille Halleina mutters to herself, "Honestly, I've met rocks more stubborn than that child."

A question springs to Ziv Zorasch's mind.

Zoronado Tatanado: "Over there!"

Zoronado Tatanado points.

Riylli Aliapoh || The mud blob follows at Riylli's feet, climbing up onto the docks and immediately slipping through the cracks into the water below

Zoronado Tatanado: "Oh it's... just a goosefish."

Ziv Zorasch snaps his fingers, causing the inside of the Pumpkin Butler's head to illuminate and light up the way a little.

Augusta Aventurine looks around.

Reille Halleina: ((less stubborn ack))

Ziv Zorasch fails to understand Zoronado Tatanado.

Zoronado Tatanado beams at the Pumpkin Butler.

Rising Lotus | as the group continued onward through the swampwood, they'd pass more broken trees, magitech long abandoned along with the occasional soldier remains. There was also the sounds of what lurked in the dark, animal or otherwise scurrying and rustling about.

Augusta Aventurine: "Hmm... wonder if there's any ceruleum left in them..."

Rising Lotus: "Hmm..nothin' but trees an' broken shite. Maybe folks an' chocobos are jus' gettin' stuck in the mud..."

(Zoronado Tatanado) This is the way

Ziv Zorasch closed his eyes and tried to hone his senses to reach out for any signs of a nearby dark presence.

Zoronado Tatanado adjusts his grip on his sword. "It's rarely that simple..."

Reille Halleina hangs back to see if she sense anything amiss with the aether in the Dimwold swamp around them. Or steps other than the footfall of their small party.

Riylli Aliapoh sniffs the wind

Augusta Aventurine looked about, for any signs of a big moving magitek device.

Rising Lotus | The groups searching would be mostly fruitless. The smell of swamp covered up anything too out of the ordinary, or perhaps there prey just lurked around here too much? There were a few piles of magictech scrap sticking out of the waters, a strange amount at that. The aether wouldn't feel to out of the ordinary.

(Rising Lotus) Ziv give me a roll))

Random! Ziv Zorasch rolls a 912.

(Zoronado Tatanado) "Legolas! What do your elf eyes see?!"

Rising Lotus | Ziv however would definitely feel something off! Coming towards one of the piles of scrap in the water...

Ziv Zorasch takes a moment of silence.

Reille Halleina sighs in frustration at sensing nothing out of the ordinary. "Maybe we should start looking for a bandit camp?"

Ziv Zorasch: "It's near. That heap of debris."

(Rising Lotus) <se.1> !!![Something is happening! Please keep to banter!]!!!

Augusta Aventurine ponders over Ziv Zorasch.

Augusta Aventurine looks around.

Ziv Zorasch would point out to them the wreckage that had the weird energy.

Ziv Zorasch points.

Augusta Aventurine draws her weapon.

Reille Halleina: "Which heap. there are so many."

Ziv Zorasch: "A dark presence. Be on guard. Maybe it is a spirit after all..."

Augusta Aventurine nods to Ziv Zorasch.

Augusta Aventurine: "If Ziv says there's something, it's good enough for me!"

(Reille Halleina) *Reille gets smacked in the face with a giant sword*))

Zoronado Tatanado looks around.

Rising Lotus | The very heap would started rustling and rumbling, something started to raise out of the water. It was massisve, definitely the size of a magitech colossus! Two glowing red eyes blinked open and looked at the group, followed by a gutteral roar! It started stomping toward the group, and as the moonlight peeking through the trees hit their mark, it's idently was revealed!

Zoronado Tatanado readies for battle.

Rising Lotus While it was a voidsent, it was...much less elegant than something possesing a broken piece of tech. A muud Suud must of wandered into the Fringes, using the scraps of garlean infintry as makeshift armor! It started lumbering toward the group, but luckily they were able to find it before it got the jump on them!

(Rising Lotus) Pic of it in the event chat!

Rising Lotus draws her axe as the ground started to tremble, looking up at the giant voidsent. "Well looks like you were right!" she smirked as she glanced at Riylli. "..that is a voidsent right? With them glowin' eyes?"

Riylli Aliapoh readies her staff and immediately begins to channel, the muddy familiar sifting up through the cracks in the planks and casually spinning in mid air besides Riylli. "YEET" Riylli flicks her staff forward and sends her friend flying towards the enemy's eyes (hopefully)

Augusta Aventurine looks at the newcomer. "That's one big voidsent... and is that..." she squints her eyes. "Rusty, metal pieces of magitek on it? No wonder people thought it was a magitek."

Reille Halleina mutters to herself as she draws her rapier, "This is what I get for spacing out through X'rhun's lectures. Oblivious to voidsent."

Ziv Zorasch: "Wretched brute! Hold nothing back. If it is voidsent then I might be able to consume it once it's weak enough."

(Rising Lotus) Some special rules for tonight! As the foe is partially armored, any rolls 400 or under will be blocked and will do no damage! Although, if someone's attack manages to hit over 900, then he'll lose some armor, lowering the nondamage number!))

Zoronado Tatanado didn't hesitate to leap off the bridge to put himself between this unholy beast and his team. "RANANOOORRRAAAGH!" He slammed his sword against his shield, sending bright sparks all around in an attempt to gain--and keep-- its attention!

Rising Lotus |The mud golem hits him in the face, but the beast has been wallowing in mud. It seems unaffected.

(Riylli Aliapoh) fool, the extra mud will only make my familiar more dangerous

(Rising Lotus) Alright combat start! For those that wern't here last week, if you're going to attack give me a /random after your post!))

(Reille Halleina) do we have turns?))

(Rising Lotus) It'll go ally turn, and then enemy turn, and then repeat!

Augusta Aventurine looked around and then jumped to the tree to her left. Bouncing off it, she dove spearfirst towards the voidsent, aiming for the unarmored parts of it.

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 976.

Rising Lotus hopped off the wooden bridge, charging toward the beast with her axe barred. She veered to its flank at the last moment, swinging wise and aiming at it's leg.

(Rising Lotus) Random! 551

Ziv Zorasch raised his greatsword high above his head with a deep breath, drawing on the dark energy that was replete in the swamp. The air around him grew thick with dark energy as waves of shadowy energy rippled from the greatsword and crashed into their enemy like a wave.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Go little guy! Try to get in its nose or something!" She calls out to her splatted friend, and those with a keen eye would see her familiar's face shifting around in the mud that covers the voidsent. Doing as it's told, the face travels up towards the nose and attempts to plug it up, being more of an annoyance than a danger

Random! Ziv Zorasch rolls a 535.

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Can I still take the 500

(Rising Lotus) Yes! Thank you, if you don't want to chance it, you can always take a flat 500 for your roll))

Zoronado Tatanado did his best to provoke the best, raising his glimmering sword high above his head (which would be waist high for everyone else) and setting the blade ablaze with a bright but silent and odorless white flame!

Random! Zoronado Tatanado rolls a 539.

Reille Halleina summons a swarm of seven small aether rapiers around her. She twirls her rapier like a baton, then points it at the void sent sending her rapiers out to impale it.

(Reille Halleina) random

Random! Reille Halleina rolls a 488.

(Rising Lotus) <se.4> !!![Attack Resume!]!!!

(Rising Lotus) woops

(Reille Halleina) I remember how to do commands in the critically acclaimed mmo))

(Rising Lotus) <se.1> !!![Something is happening! Please keep to banter!]!!!

Rising Lotus | The Iron Suud had its arms raised like it was about to strike, but the squirming mud trying to cram its way up the voidsent's nose caused it to stagged. While it struggled with the pint sized annoyed, it let out a pained roar as Rising's attack made contact, making a light gash against it's muscled thigh. It then was barraged with not only magical rapier lightly piercing its skin, but Ziv's dark wave of magic! >

Rising Lotus All of this left if perfectly open for Gusta's plummeting spear attack, her spear driving deep into the beast's shoulder. Using it's opposite arm as it screeched and wailed, it would attempt to swipe Gusta off. After finally snot-rocketing the mud golem to the ground, the first thing it saw was Zoro's bright sword, and bringing both fists together, it started to bring them down in his direction!

(Rising Lotus) Can I get a roll from Gusta and Zoro?))

Random! Zoronado Tatanado rolls a 28.

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 989.

(Riylli Aliapoh) hes DEAD

(Augusta Aventurine) OwO ""

(Zoronado Tatanado) RIP spudknight

Rising Lotus | As it swiped Gusta off it knocked some of it's armor off as well!

(Rising Lotus) Gusta gracefully avoids the swipe and is set up for a counter attack! +100 to their next roll. Zoro is getting very heavily hit, and loses their next attack.

(Rising Lotus) <se.4> !!![Attack Resume!]!!!

(Rising Lotus) Also! You can use your attack to defend someone! You lose your attack for that turn though, as you're using the roll to defend them.

Ziv Zorasch moved in quickly to take some of the heat off of Zoro, winding up and delivering a discus slash at the giant's leg. His blade trailed with black particles as the shadows coalesced into a tangible weapon.

Random! Ziv Zorasch rolls a 597.

(Rising Lotus) Basically Cravs rules if you'd done combat events with them xD))

Augusta Aventurine takes a breath as she finds herself up against a tree after getting thrown back, her feet positioned and ready to pounce on the foe. She takes lance in hand and aims for the nape of the neck of the giant voidsent. (Or assuming there's armor there, some open spot)

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 545.

Zoronado Tatanado had just enough time to raise his shield and brace himself for the double-whammy, disappearing in a cloud of dirt and mud when the fists slammed down where he was standing! When the Suud lifted his hands, Zoro was on his back, and halfway buried.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Hey! That's rude! How's'about I show you the fruits of my training!" She yells at the voidsent, then begins to gather aether into her staff. The mudsplat on the ground begins to gurgle and grow in size, more and more mud being drawn towards it including what remained on the voidsent's body. "Now!" Riylli calls out and lifts her staff high. With a flash of golden aether a humanoid form bursts upwards from the mud, with long limbs and a dripping grin. It attempts to go for a rising uppercut-

Riylli Aliapoh: -as it bursts from the ground, but can Riylli hold its form long enough?

Random! Riylli Aliapoh rolls a 110.

Riylli Aliapoh: THE ANSWER IS NO, and the fist fizzles back into mud as the mudman tries to throw its punch

Reille Halleina begins conjuring a ball of wind in her left fist until it becomes a small cyclone she shakes off her hand and it begins rippling on the ground beside her. She continues to coax the cyclone into a bigger and bigger shape until it is the size of Ziv. Then she flourishes her rapier at Iron Suud and sends the cyclone rushing across the ground towards it.

Random! Reille Halleina rolls a 823.

Rising Lotus feinted backwards after the suud attacked. Unable to get to Zoro's aid in time, she raised her axe high and lept towards its arm, bring her weapon down with all her weight on the voidsent's limb.

(Rising Lotus) Random! 689

(Rising Lotus) <se.1> !!![Something is happening! Please keep to banter!]!!!

(Augusta Aventurine) think I'm too far and missed some rolls, lol

Ziv Zorasch: "Zoro! Are you stuck?"

Ziv Zorasch expresses his worry with Zoronado Tatanado.

(Riylli Aliapoh) (want me to repost?

(Augusta Aventurine) if you'd like, but it's okay XD. I'll probably find out what's going on in a sec. ))

(Riylli Aliapoh) (The tldr is Riylli summoned a mudman, but its fist fizzled as it went for a punch

(Reille Halleina) and a Ziv sized cyclone

(Augusta Aventurine) poor mudman ))

(Reille Halleina) and Zoro is on it's back

Zoronado Tatanado: "Uuugh.... nngh... 'tis.... b-but a scratch...!"

Rising Lotus | Raising its fists right after bonking poor Zoro into oblivion, it was left open to the groups attacks, Rising managing to give it another decent sized gash on its arm, while the dark slashes to its other leg caused it to stagged for a moment, but the beast's hulking form rose one more! The nape of its neck didn't have armor, but the natural scales prevented Gusta's attack from doing too much damage. >

Rising Lotus | While the mudman had heart, his aim wasn't up to par. The punch hit a piece of armor squaredly before it burst back to mud and the voidsent was unphased. The suud's arms were raised over its face as the wind gave it several little knicks, but with a mighty roar it broke the windy barrage! >

Rising Lotus | Squatting down for a few moments, it suddenly leapt a surprisingly high amount in the air. While it looked flabby under that armor, it must bepretty ripped! It Drove itself back down to the ground with a mighty crash, anyone in melee range in danger, while those in the distance would have to worry about mud and debris getting flung in their direction!

(Rising Lotus) Everyone defensive roll.

Random! Ziv Zorasch rolls a 850.

(Rising Lotus) Random! 283

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 259.

Random! Reille Halleina rolls a 531.

Random! Zoronado Tatanado rolls a 877.

(Riylli Aliapoh) Random! 92

(Reille Halleina) I'LL SAVE HER

(Riylli Aliapoh) HOW DARE

(Reille Halleina) LET ME DO IT

(Rising Lotus) Alright give me another roll

Random! Reille Halleina rolls a 139.

(Reille Halleina) WE DIE TOGETHER

(Riylli Aliapoh) QUICK SOMEONE ELSE SAVE HER SO SHE CAN SAVE RIYLLI

(Rising Lotus) Who's all in melee range, Rising Ziv and gusta?))

(Ziv Zorasch) yeah))

(Augusta Aventurine) I'd think so, Augi may jump off it's body after getting her strike in, but she would probably be close enough? ))

(Rising Lotus) Alright!

(Zoronado Tatanado) Couldn't Zoro save Riylli since she's right next to him?

(Rising Lotus) Ziv avoids damange, Gusta takes a glancing blow, and Rising takes damage and loses her turn.

Ziv Zorasch threw up his hand as the giant came down, pulling the shadows over him as a shield that he could be seen letting disippate as the dust settled from the attack.

(Rising Lotus) Zoro is safe, Reille gets battered by some mud, and Riyll would of got decked by a stump but we'll let Reille's defense through anyway! She doens't get an attack this turn though!

(Rising Lotus) <se.4> !!![Attack Resume!]!!!

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Is Riylli the she without an attack

(Reille Halleina) Reille I think

(Rising Lotus) Yeah for Reilli, Riylli gets an attack now!

Augusta Aventurine grits her teeth as she felt the blow through her armor. It may have been pretty but didn't have quite the durability her spiky armor had. She found herself near the others. Not bothering to jump this time, she put all her strength into a powerful thrust, hoping to break the beast's defenses and penetrate its scales.

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 984.

Rising Lotus was about to strike once more, but as her weapon was swung the voidsent lept upwards! She stumbled a bit, awkwardly trying to dodge backwards, but she didn't make it into. The impact shot her backwards, tumbling to her back in the mud with a groan.

Reille Halleina uses a burst of aether to dash across the field and impales a tree stump with her rapier before it hits Riylli. Reille and the stump land several feet away from. Her sword is logged deeply inside the stump. "Riylli, are you okay?"

(Rising Lotus) Sword in the stump

Riylli Aliapoh unfortunately (or purposefully) doesn't really notice Reille's valiant rescue as she is too focused holding her mudman's form. It was not a real golem, more like an enkindling of a familiar, and it required her to maintain a constant feed of aether that she was not well experienced in yet. The mudman looks sadly at its lost hand, and Riylli shakes her head. "Don't worry, you still got the other one! Go for a chokehold!" She calls out, the mudman nodding before slithering around the voidsent-

Riylli Aliapoh -and hooking its arm around the beasts neck.

Random! Riylli Aliapoh rolls a 639.

Riylli Aliapoh glances over to Reille and gives a huff. "I didn't need your help. I woulda dodged it y'know." She lies without any sense of hesitation or remorse

(Riylli Aliapoh) (I ALWAYS FEEL BAD HAVING RIYLLI BE MEAN TO REILLE

Zoronado Tatanado could feel it-- a sharp pain in his chest, right beneath the dent in his breastplate. He grit his teeth and endured the pain, plucking his feet from the ground to charge at the fiend to drive his blade into where its dangly bits would be!

Random! Zoronado Tatanado rolls a 931.

Ziv Zorasch felt the need to press the attack. Having enjoyed the feeling of his blade sinking into the giant, he cleaved at the beast's leg again with a surge of strength as his Blood Weapon activated, channeling his very own life force into his sword arm to empower the attacks.

Random! Ziv Zorasch rolls a 534.

Reille Halleina makes an unladilike snort of disgust at Riylli and rolls her eyes. Then struggles to get her rapier out of the stump.

(Reille Halleina) SOMEDAY MAYBE Riylli will find her manners))

(Rising Lotus) <se.4> !!![Attack Resume!]!!!

(Rising Lotus) damnit

(Rising Lotus) <se.1> !!![Something is happening! Please keep to banter!]!!!

(Rising Lotus) the macro has a sword on it you'd thing I'd know the difference xD

(Rising Lotus) Reille Give me a roll

Random! Reille Halleina rolls a 387.

Rising Lotus Try as she might, Reille' sword remains stuck in the stump, looks like she'd be without it for now. As the beast lurched forward it was stopped by the mudman's arm, grappling with the golem and being kept distracted for Ziv to keep slashing away at the beast's side. Gusta's spear once again hit its target deeply, while Zoro would slip between it's trunk like legs and hit some soft spots, great cuts along its undercaridge now!

Rising Lotus the onslaught from the two caused more armor to fall into the swamp with a splash, it didn't have much left now! The party could tell its stamina was fading, but it still wasn't out yet! It thrashed around until the mud man would let go, and then threw it's massive claws around it's body, not aiming really but hoping to hit anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby!

(Rising Lotus) Ziv and Gusta can I get a roll? Zoro is safe since he's underneath his legs!

Random! Ziv Zorasch rolls a 840.

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 439.

(Rising Lotus) Ziv is once again safe! Gusta would get lightly clipped but is still in the fight!

(Rising Lotus) <se.4> !!![Attack Resume!]!!!

(Rising Lotus) Also he lost more armor with those two 900s! Only attacks 100 or less will be ignored now!

Zoronado Tatanado didn't even realize he couldn't lift his shield arm over his waist anymore. He tightened his grip on his sword and went for a gash on the leg, choosing to drive it deep until only the hilt of his blade remained!

Random! Zoronado Tatanado rolls a 273.

Augusta Aventurine tried to block the attack with her spear, but found those claws of his pushing against her, knocking her back a few feet. She was starting to feel the damage, but her adrenaline didn't let her stop. She charged forward and jumped. Now that it was tired out, she hoped she could hit one of its eyeballs.

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 891.

Rising Lotus rolled from her back, coated in the nasty smelling mud. "Gods damned arsehole...that anyone would think you had any relation to Bellator..." she steeled herself, teeth grit as there was a bit of a red spark in her eyes. She charged back into the fray, letting out a battle cry as prepared to slam her axe down once more!

Random! You roll a 923.

Riylli Aliapoh cannot hold it anymore, releasing her spell and allowing the mudman to melt back down into a simple familiar. "Ugh... More trouble than its worth." She mutters, then taps her staff against the ground to call out to the earth below, summoning forth her axe. She walks over to the stump that holds Reille's sword, lifts her axe, and swings it down to chop it in half. She makes no comment while doing this of course

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Lets jsut pretend like she was wearing this outfit the whole time

(Riylli Aliapoh) (LIFE WAS SO MUCH SIMPLER WHEN RIYLLI ONLY HAD ONE OUTFIT

(Zoronado Tatanado) Suddenly started raining lalafell over here so if I disappear let's just say Zoro got stepped on and died

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Oh also Im not attacking this turn

(Rising Lotus) o7

Ziv Zorasch kept his feet planted, finding plenty of darkness around him to create another barrier. Shards of darkness like broken glass were scattered everywhere as the monster's claw shattered the barrier, just as Ziv wanted. Gathering the shadows around his greatsword, he plunged the weapon directly into the beast's lower abdomen.

(Rising Lotus) Gimme a roll ziv!

Random! Ziv Zorasch rolls a 901.

(Rising Lotus) jesus our rolls this round

(Ziv Zorasch) dark mode ziv came to whoop ass

Reille Halleina is covered in mud struggling to pull her sword from the stump, but the stump seems unlikely to yield it. Reille is shocked when Riylli joins her and conjurers a boulder axe to chop the stump. Reille is splattered in more mud in the process, but her sword is free. "Th-thank you," Reille says stunned her expression inscruitable from all the mud.

(Zoronado Tatanado) The power of friendship and also this gun we found

(Rising Lotus) <se.1> !!![Something is happening! Please keep to banter!]!!!

Riylli Aliapoh just grumbles incoherently

Rising Lotus the voidsent continued on despite Zoro's sword driven into its leg. Rising's attack manages to make major contact hower, cleaving the suud's leg open, along with, to her suprise, splintering the ground open near the voidsent's left leg. As it dropped to one knee Ziv had the perfect angle to skewer the beast, making through all those hard ab muscles and into it's innards. The beasts Screams echoed through the Dim wood until Gusta's spear pierced its skull.

Of the 84 parties currently recruiting, all match your search conditions.

(Riylli Aliapoh) UH

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Reille is missing her sword

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Shes posing but its still sheathed

(Rising Lotus) *Dim wood ))

(Riylli Aliapoh) (WAIT SO IS ZIV

(Reille Halleina) photos or it isn't .... REILLE))

(Riylli Aliapoh) (I get the impression that my ssd is actively in the process of dying

Rising Lotus The voidsent remained there motionless for a few moments before its body started breaking down in black miasma. It fell forward towards the group, but the only thing that hit the ground was its remaining armor, the body dissapearing in a puff of black smoke.

Ziv Zorasch celebrates victory.

Augusta Aventurine celebrates victory.

Augusta Aventurine looks around.

Riylli Aliapoh lets her axe dissolve and walks over to find her mudball friend. "Nice job out there!" She says to it, reaching out with an arm so it can crawl up onto her shoulder

Ziv Zorasch stabbed his greatsword into the ground, allowing it to melt away into black particles that faded into the darkness of the forest.

Augusta Aventurine searched for Zoro, having been too focused on the fight to keep track of him, she wondered where he was. "Zoro?" She said in a soft voice, the hits she took taking their toll as she looked for him.

Reille Halleina kicks an empty piece of magitek plating that had been part of the suud's armor. "I just washed my hair!"

Rising Lotus panted, a bit dumbfounded as she looked at the crater her strike just made. "...Well the spirit of 'Bellator' will haunt this place no longer." she stood her axe upright as she rubbed her back. "Everyone alright, Zoro?" she eyed the Lalafell, taking the major strike of the night.

Ziv Zorasch: "Damage report! Are we all in once piece?"

Augusta Aventurine nods to Ziv Zorasch.

Augusta Aventurine: "A couple of bruises but not too bad... "

Augusta Aventurine expresses her worry with Zoronado Tatanado.

You confuse Ziv Zorasch.

Zoronado Tatanado pulled his blade out and managed to sheathe it with one fluid motion. He limbed around the beast back to the group, and tried to wave to everyone with his shield arm, but his shoulder was lower than it should be, and his arm just kinda... swung a little.

Ziv Zorasch: "Bellator...you don't mean -our- Bellator?"

Augusta Aventurine stares at Zoronado Tatanado in fear.

Augusta Aventurine: "Zoro!"

Zoronado Tatanado smiles weakly at Augusta Aventurine.

Augusta Aventurine: "Your arm, what happened?"

Riylli Aliapoh: "Ow..."

Zoronado Tatanado: "I think my collarbone snapped. Is anyone else hurt...?"

Rising Lotus winced a bit as she definitely had ANOTHER bruise in the making on her back. "The locals thought it was his spirit..he caused a ruckus at the castrum before he died, when Florus escaped."

Reille Halleina rushes to Zoronado her field medic training kicking in, "Let's take a look, Zoro."

Riylli Aliapoh sighs, and reluctantly glances over to Reile. "Can you heal with that dumb thing or do you need to borrow my staff?"

Augusta Aventurine: "Uuu... Zoro..."

Zoronado Tatanado is deep in thought.

Zoronado Tatanado: "And my ribs. A few of my ribs aren't where they're supposed to be. Stomach feels a bit wet. I don't know if it's mud or..."

Augusta Aventurine stares at Zoronado Tatanado in fear.

Rising Lotus looked to Zoro and winced. "Eesh...well considerin' how big its fists were, guess you got out pretty lucky. Squishy ground to thank I guess?" she started poking around the crack in the ground she made.

Zoronado Tatanado: "But I don't feel anything yet... I think the adrenaline is still doing its thing."

Ziv Zorasch reached into his pocket and clutched the dark knight soul crystal as the sadness of it sank in. "How tragic to think...our poor old friend, reduced to this monstrous form."

Augusta Aventurine: "I don't think you shoudl move too much... I can help get that armor off of you."

Zoronado Tatanado smiles at you.

Ziv Zorasch expresses his worry with Zoronado Tatanado.

Reille Halleina: "Don't need a staff to heal, but thatnk," she says softly to Riylli, "Let's see,Z." She hovers her hand over Zoro's shield arm and over his ribs sensing what is disrupted in his physical body.

Rising Lotus shook her head. "Nah, this ain't him. This was jus' some voidsent that was smart enough to make armor from scrap."

Zoronado Tatanado breathed in a bit, hearing a faint gurgle in the back of his throat. "Oh... my lung is punctured."

Augusta Aventurine is taken aback by Zoronado Tatanado.

Augusta Aventurine: "Wh-WHAT?"

Riylli Aliapoh huffs. "Right, well, me and my friend have got lots more training to do apparently." She says as she turns away, giving the blob on her shoulder a poke. She walks over to Rising instead. "Thanks for the bounty! I'll be headin' out to Kugane tomorrow, but I'll let you know if I hear anything, 'kay?"

Reille Halleina presses a hand against Zoro's chest as soon as he gurgled and starts using aether to seal the puncture until she can find the bone.

Zoronado Tatanado: "... as long as no one else was seriously hurt, I did my job."

Augusta Aventurine: "R-Reille, I can use some healing magicka... let me know if you need help!"

Augusta Aventurine furrows her brow at Zoronado Tatanado.

Augusta Aventurine: "NO IT ISN'T MISTER! If you didn't come home, what would I tell Leni!?"

Rising Lotus nodded. "You see that hole in the ground I made?" she jabbed her thumb in the direction of it proudly. "Anyway, money will be in your cubby like always." she turned her attention to Zoro. "You gonna make the trip back to the Castrum, or should we get a chocobo to cart ya there?"

Reille Halleina: "We need a cart, Rising. Quickly please."

Riylli Aliapoh: "...It aint a cubby, it's a mailbox..." She grumbles as she walks off

Ziv Zorasch: "Most definitely. Try not to move, Zoro."

Ziv Zorasch bids farewell to Riylli Aliapoh.

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Thank you for the rp all! I am too tired to stay much longer unfortunately ;-;

(Ziv Zorasch) night night!

(Augusta Aventurine) ye, thanks Riylli! o/ ))

Zoronado Tatanado used his good arm to rub at his nose. "Gosh.... she's going to be very upset at this news. Maybe we can.. avoid telling her?"

Reille Halleina: ((okay ty, good night!))

Augusta Aventurine furrows her brow at Zoronado Tatanado.

(Zoronado Tatanado) I can feel those goosefish eyes staring into my soul.

Rising Lotus nodded. "Alright, Ziv with me. The rest of you stay here with him. That thing is dead, but there is yet more out here to watch out for, voidsent or no."

Ziv Zorasch nods to you.

Augusta Aventurine nods to you.

Ziv Zorasch relaxes his pose.

Augusta Aventurine: "I'll guard him and keep him safe. For Leleni to give him an earful later!"

Reille Halleina: "Gusta, can yo use your healing to keep Zoro awake, please. And a little numb. No need to feel this yet." Reille is acting EXTREMELY calm.

Zoronado Tatanado expresses his worry with Augusta Aventurine.

(Augusta Aventurine) this is Augi's angry aura, lol ))

Zoronado Tatanado: "Should I sit down...? That might put more pressure on my ribs, no?"

(Rising Lotus) Alright give me a moment and I'll have the closer!))

Augusta Aventurine nods to Reille Halleina.

Augusta Aventurine sat down and took a deep breath. Trying to focus her healing magicka. She wasn't very good at it, but she was good enough to help treat during an emergency!

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 309.

Augusta Aventurine tried to focus her aether, but the light faded as soon as it started. "Oh, why now!?" She tried again.

Random! Augusta Aventurine rolls a 786.

Ziv Zorasch expresses his worry with Zoronado Tatanado.

Augusta Aventurine managed to keep it steady and focused hard on trying to keep Zoro awake and numb, as the doctor suggested. Not that she could focus very well but she tried!

Zoronado Tatanado: "I would have been mashed if I didn't come in this heavy plate...! My thanks to my smith...!"

Zoronado Tatanado is positively beaming.

Augusta Aventurine bit her lower lip. She wouldn't be giving up her armor anytime soon.

Ziv Zorasch: "In all the damage could have been much worse. Great work everyone."

Reille Halleina "You can stay standing," Reille says as her eyes flutter closed. She starts conjuring huge amounts of aether to move Zoro's bones back to where they should be, then starts healing his internal injuries to prevent further internal bleeding. This is where she concentrates all her efforts and after several minutes she's satisifed and little light headed. "All right, you shouldn't die on the way home. You're also not allowed to move."

headed. "All right, you shouldn't die on the way home. You're also not allowed to move."

Rising Lotus and Ziv would make haste back to the Castrum, and half a bell later they'd return with a Chocobo cart to get poor Zoro back safely. While the healers back at Oriens would be able to mend the groups wound's, Zoro was only put in a stable enough condition to travel back to Heartwood, where he would get taken care of in the clinic!

(Rising Lotus) That's all I got for the night! Hope everyone had fun!

Augusta Aventurine let out a sigh of relief, it's dangerous if she exerts her healing magicka for too long. She was already starting to feel a little light headed herself.

(Ziv Zorasch) i did! thanks rising! thanks all

(Augusta Aventurine) ye! thanks Rising!

(Reille Halleina) thank you Rising!!))

Ziv Zorasch bids farewell.

(Zoronado Tatanado) Ye this was fun

Zoronado Tatanado gives Reille Halleina a big hug.

Augusta Aventurine gently pats Zoronado Tatanado.

Reille Halleina gently pats Zoronado, "Absolutely no training until Aslinn and Gentle Fist give you the all clear." She gives Augusta a little pat seeing she's a little worn, "Thank you for your help."

Augusta Aventurine smiles at Reille Halleina.

Zoronado Tatanado looks disgusted.

Augusta Aventurine lets out a looong breath, feeling her adrenaline draining. "I... I did what I can."

#ffxiv roleplay #FFXIV #rising lotus #ff14 #roleplaying

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jadorebrowsandlashes · 1 year

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Eyebrow Feathering and Microblading in Melbourne

Cosmetic Tattooing is a non-invasive beauty treatment that instantly enhances your appearance with safe, natural colour pigments injected into the skin. This technique can be used to correct or reconstruct eyebrows, add volume or fill in sparse areas. It is also ideal for those who have experienced alopecia or other medical conditions that result in hair loss.

Microblading (also known as 'eyebrow feathering') is a semi-permanent tattooing procedure where individual micro-strokes are drawn using a manual hand tool with a'microblade' to create crisp, hair like strokes that mimic the natural brow hair. The result is a very natural and realistic look.

The procedure is carried out by an accredited and insured cosmetic tattoo artist, and can be performed on both the face and body. The artist will consult with you on your facial profile and preferences to create the perfect brow shape and colour.

It is important to choose a qualified and experienced artist who can deliver the desired result, and who will keep your brows looking beautiful for years to come. Make sure they are properly trained and hold the highest qualifications, and ask to see healed photos and before and afters of their work.

They should be able to show you their portfolio of work and provide a personal consultation with you to discuss your expectations, goals and needs before proceeding. It is also best to check that they are fully licensed and insured to perform this type of cosmetic tattooing in Melbourne.

Eyebrow tattooing in Melbourne is a cosmetic treatment that uses safe colour pigments to instantly improve your appearance. It is less invasive than permanent makeup and can last up to 3 years.

This cosmetic procedure is available in a range of styles to meet the different needs and requirements of each client. It is a fantastic treatment for those who want to change the shape and size of their brows or add volume, but don't have the time, money or patience to undergo permanent makeup.

A specialised cosmetic tattoo machine is then used to apply the tattoo or coloured pigments. The process is much faster than when applied manually by hand, but it is less suitable for people with oily skin as it fades quicker.

Our microblading melbourne & Eyebrow Feathering Studio is renowned for its highly detailed, intricate and natural-looking microblading & eyebrow feathering patterns. The expert Microblading & Eyebrow Feathering artists at Melbourne Designer Brows have a keen understanding of the anatomy of the human eye and are trained to draw precise, symmetrical and balanced designs to give you the most naturally perfect brows possible.

We pride ourselves on being one of the leading Microblading & Eyebrow Feathering studios in Melbourne, and are the preferred choice for eyebrow tattooing by many local clients who love our super natural brows.

The service includes a free consultation and will be tailored to your specific needs. It can be carried out on your face or body and is available in a variety of shades to suit your complexion.

#microblading melbourne

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perfectbrowsandcosmetics · 2 years

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Perfect Brows and Cosmetics

Hi and welcome Perfect Brows and Cosmetics, my name is Berina. I am a Registered nurse for the past 15 years and I have worked mostly in the acute pediatric setting but also with adults and in community services.

I always had a passion for skincare, beauty and aesthetics. This led me to seek out training with some of the best microblading artists. I have completed so far 3 certificates in microblading, micro shading and machine shading. I have also gained a qualification of advanced cosmetic nurse this year, and plan to further expand my services in near future.

#Perfect Brows and Cosmetics #best cost of microblading in adelaide #best eyebrow studio in western adelaide #combination brows transformation adelaide #best eyebrows adelaide

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tabauk · 4 years

Link

Best Aesthetic Academy-TABA UK

Taba UK, the Academy of Beauty and Aesthetics provides the most comprehensive Botox and dermal fillers training for medics and non-medics.

#Beauty and Aesthetics Courses #Machine brows qualification #Machine Brows course #dermal fillers course

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seiyasabi · 3 years

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The Scientist

(Hange (Hanji) can rearrange by guts tbh :P Lol, anyways, this is a Yandere Hanji x Female Reader story! It takes place in current time tho (same universe as Yelena). Also, idgaf how tall the creator says Hanji is. In this fic, even the tall girlies get to be shorter than Hanji.

TW: kidnapping!, !drugging!, unwanted advances, stalking!, etc!

Please proceed with caution! Also, I’m sorry if you can tell that this was in my drafts for a hot min. I started to write this when I first started this blog, and I just finished/revised it lol. )

“Hey, (Nickname!” Hearing the loud shout of a certain brunet, you jump about a foot in the air. As usual, Hanji decides to surprise you whilst you’re in the middle of something.

Pulling away from the microscope you’re currently looking at, you put on a strained smile, “Yes?”

Their one eye sparkles in a hopeful fashion from behind their glasses, one of her their fiddling with their eyepatch, “Sooo,” They draw out the o, seemingly trying to disarm you, “Are you free this weekend? There’s this suuuuper cool bar that’s just opening, and me and the others are thinking about going! It’s totally not a date or anything,” They pause to let out a loud laugh, “I think it’ll be fun! What D'ya say?”

Forcing out a chuckle, you shake your head, “Ah, I’m sorry, Hanji, but I’m busy this weekend. I have a lot of samples I need to process for that upcoming court case,” You chew your bottom lip nervously, “I’m sorry. I hope you and the others have a good time, though!”

A new voice is heard, butting into your conversation, “I can do those! I’ve been needing more hours, anyways,” Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you silently curse. Fuck Armin for being so helpful!

Hanji beams even brighter than before, clapping their hands together happily, “See! Armin can do that for you!” They lean in closer to you, their lab coat brushing against yours, “Come on, (Nickname), I’d be reaaaaally happy if you go!”

An uneasy feeling pools in your gut, as an anxious sweat begins to bead at your brow, “I-uhm-I suppose I can go for an hour or two.”

“Great!” They grab your hands in theirs, squeezing them in a friendly manner, “The bar is called ‘Titan’s Wrath,’ and we’re meeting at eight on Saturday!” Releasing you, they pat you on the back, “See you later!” They run off, most likely back to the dry lab.

After a moment of silence, you slowly turn towards the short haired blond man, “Armin, I’m going to kill you.”

He blanches at your blunt tone, flushing a bright red, “Wha-what?”

You grit your teeth, tears starting to bead your eyes in frustration, “They’re the person I was telling you about! Hanji constantly harasses me, and you practically just tossed me into their arms! Why would you do that?”

A look of pure terror and remorse appears of his face, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t realise that they were the person-oh my God, I’m so stupid. I-I really didn’t know! I’m so, so sorry!” You let out a quivering breath, hands clenched into fists to calm you down.

“It-it’s alright. I never really told you who they were. Just never do that again, okay? If you need more hours, just tell me, and I’ll see what I can do,” The younger man sighs in relief, shoulders deflating.

“I promise to never do that again!” You nod, blinking away your unshed tears, and smile at him.

“Okay, then we don’t have any problems,” You laugh lightly, shaking your head, “Who would’ve thought our newest intern was the dry lab’s wing man?” He panics again, making you cackle good-naturedly, “Now, can you please grab the dilluter? I forgot to grab it from the fridge.”

Hanji, being the ever cheerful person that they are, set their sights on you the moment you were hired.

But, if they came out with their feelings immediately, you’d just assume that they wanted to take advantage of you.

So, they watched you. Writing down your likes and dislikes, your quirks, everything. Through their ‘research,’ they came to realise that you’re very good at your job. The wet-lab should be lucky that they have you… but they never give you the recognition you deserve!

They bombard you with assignments, become upset when you don’t finish them in seconds (which is so unreasonable!), and hardly give you any time off!

You don’t seem to mind, being the good girl you are, but Hanji sure does!

So, they’d seek out the top graduates from the college nearby, and help them become employed at the lab. The newbies really helped get the load off of your shoulders, and once done, they decided to swoop in now that you had a decent amount of free time.

It started at the vending machine- they’d asked you if you wanted to get coffee with them sometime. You said no, probably because you felt it wasn’t professional. After all, rumours would spread like wildfire if you went out with the lead lab tech of the dry lab!

So, everytime they knew you had a weekend off, they’d approach you with new places to try.

Be it a movie, a store, a concert- it didn’t matter. They just desperately wanted to have some time with you!

But, you reacted the complete opposite of how you were supposed to.

You’d pick up as many shifts as possible, most times going into over time, just to avoid the flamboyant lead. Whenever you saw them in the hall or by the break room, you’d turn in the complete opposite direction. If wet-lab needed to correspond with the dry-lab, you’d send your most qualified coworker to do so.

It was saddening, to be honest. They love you so much, yet you refuse to even face them.

But, thanks to that Armin kid, their plans can finally bloom into fruition. For once, you can’t escape the brunet’s advances!

Because of that, Hanji made a note to the owner of the lab that Armin would make a good contribution to the lab after he gets all of his qualifications.

Saturday night comes far too soon.

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a cropped, white long sleeve, you stand in front of ‘Titans Wrath.’ Scoffing at how the bar sounds like a metal band, you make your way inside.

Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open, immediately hearing loud rock music. Mentally patting yourself on the back for your observation, you step inside of the cool building.

Looking inside, you see a large, double sided bar in the middle of the room, a stage and standing area just behind it. There are a few pool tables in the front area where you’re standing, along with double doors leading to a hidden kitchen.

There’s also a lot of people inside. You can’t see Hanji or their friends, but seeing a band setting up on the stage tells you that they’re probably on the other side of the bar.

Walking over to the steps leading down into the stage area, you try to ignore the leers of a few men around you. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn clothes that accentuate your beautiful figure. Peering around the corner, you see the scientist and their friends, an empty seat in between them and a large blond man, that you vaguely recall being the police chief of your city.

Strolling towards them halfheartedly, you give yourself a small peptalk inside of your mind. Sure, Hanji has always been touchy-feely with you, sure, they’ve asked you out about one hundred times, sure, you run into them every time you leave the house, sure-

“(Nickname)! You actually came!” The brunet’s voice is loud, loud enough to cut through the loud music and equally loud chatter. Forcing a smile onto your face, you give a small wave, suddenly uncomfortable with the line of strangers at the bar suddenly looking at you.

“Yes, hello, Hanji,” When you’re close enough, you’re thrown into a tight embrace, their body practically molding into your own. They’re about a head taller than you, making it so your head is practically forced against their protruding collarbones. Hesitating slightly, you give them a soft pat on the back, trying to escape their suffocating embrace.

“I’m so glad you came!” They release you just as suddenly as they grabbed you, putting a hand on the small of your back, and practically forcing you in between the blond man and themself, “(Nickname), this is Erwin. Erwin, this is (First Name).”

His blue eyes rake over your appearance, recognition appearing on his face, “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (Last Name), especially under better circumstances.”

You nod, thinking back on some high profile cases you met with him for, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.”

A loud scoff is heard from beside Erwin, the head of a short, dark haired man peeks around the broad chested man, “It’s about time you brought a respectful brat,” You have to stop yourself from flinching at his harsh tone, “I am Levi,” Opening your mouth to introduce yourself, he holds up a hand, halting you, “There’s no need for introductions, Shitty-glasses has gushed about the ‘pretty wet-lab scientist’ for months now.”

“Oh, alright. It’s nice to meet you,” His lifts his whiskey on rocks in acknowledgement, before downing it with one swig.

“Likewise,” After that, he turns towards a light brown haired woman, her high pitched voice is heard from where you’re sitting.

“I’m sorry about that. The detective is very… unsociable.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Smith. He kind of reminds me of one of my interns, Annie,” You say with a small smile, before your swiveling bar stool is forced around so you’re facing Hanji.

“Sooo, you like the bar so far?” Their smile is somewhat pleading, and you can’t help but just go along with them.

“Yes, this place is, um, cool. Very interesting choice,” They clasp their hands together with a pleased expression, as they somehow move closer to you than they already are. At this point, you’re worried that they’ll fall off their stool.

“Right? Our residential emo boy found it, and we’ve been hooked ever since,” A loud ‘Shut up, Shitty-glasses,’ is heard from behind you, making the brunet laugh, “Let me order you a drink! I think there’s something that you’ll really like!”

Opening your mouth to reject, it was seemingly too late, because the brunet has already waved over a punk-ed out bartender. You didn’t really hear what the drink is called, but the man sets to work immediately.

It barely takes a minute for it to be finished, and the purple drink is suddenly in front of your motionless form. Looking up, the purple haired man winks at you, before turning his attention back to a speaking Hanji.

“Anything she orders, put it on my tab,” He nods, before walking off to service another customer.

Turning your attention back to Hanji, you try to persuade them to let you pay, “Thanks, Hanji, but it’s alright. I can pay for my own drinks-”

“Don’t worry about it; I asked you out, remember? And it’s the least I can do for harassing you for the past few months,” Startled by their uncharacteristically somber words, you nod in understanding.

“Alright. Thank you,” They nod, before motioning towards your drink.

“Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it!” Grabbing the cool glass cup, you bring it up to your lips, and take a small sip. It’s amazing. It tastes like (favourite flavour), and it goes down smooth.

“You’re right, this is delicious!” They grin brightly, clapping their hands together in glee.

“Great!” They motion towards the stage with their head, “The show’s about to start! Are you ready for a kickass night?” You laugh at their vigour, and nod.

“You bet!”

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

You spoke too soon.

It seems like you’ve drank too much, because you’re now feeling dizzy. Throughout the set, you’d ordered about five more drinks, and they seemingly hit you all at once.

Hanji, who’s been watching you since your fourth drink, feigns shock at your unstable form. That Rohypnol they grabbed from work works quite well! Now they can see why it’s the choice drug for those awful, awful people.

“Whoa there, (Nickname), it seems you’ve had too much to drink!” Hanji jokes, hands holding you steady on your bar stool. The only person from your group still at the bar is Erwin, but he knows they have it under control. As chief of police, he feels a bit of remorse, but he knows it's for the best. Hanji will take care of you, because, after all, you’re their only true obsession.

“Wha-huh? Was’ happenin?” Hanji can all but coo at how cute you are.

“Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll get you home safe,” Helping you to your boot clad feet, they send a knowing look to Erwin, who smiles in return. Wrapping an arm around your waist, they help you stumble out of the bar, and walk towards their car. Once at the passenger side, the brunet unlocks the door, and assists you inside. You flop onto their leather interior, eyes unfocused, and body movements random. Chuckling to themself, they buckle you in, not before pulling on gloves, and taking your phone, keys, and wallet off of you.

Taking these items, they empty your wallet of its cash, and chuck everything into a nearby bush. Knowing that the cameras outside the building and the buildings surrounding the place are off, they feel at ease. If anything, they feel like your knight in shining armour. If they hadn’t taken you, someone else would’ve-you’re just too cute.

Closing your door, and rounding the car, they slide into the driver’s side, before starting the car. Buckling themself in, they look at your out-of-it form, and smile.

#yandere hange #hange zoe #yandere hange zoe #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #hange x reader #hange supremacy #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan x reader

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

come back to me

pairing | colt x mc

word count | 5.3k

warnings | blood, guns, bullets, wounds, and a mention of death. there’s a section of the fic where mc gets shot when a job goes awry – it’s used in a hurt/comfort scenario, but be warned that it’s in there! lmk if i need to use any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @jaxmatsuo, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | i’ve never written a colt fic before, so i wanted to take a crack at a slowburn colt au – this fic takes place over the span of about ten-ish years (fifteen-ish total since the events of book one). i’m not the biggest colt expert so i hope i did him justice!

•─────────────────•

“If you ever ask me to do this much ass kissing again, I’m divorcing you.”

Colt flung himself onto the bed, still fully clothed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Raquel laughed, reaching back to unzip herself, the soft fabric of her sundress sliding down her body and onto the floor.

He hummed from his place on the bed, neck craning to watch her as she changed into her pajamas.

“Stop distracting me from being annoyed,” he grumbled, letting his head fall back, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“Are you actually mad at me or are you just complaining to hear yourself talk?” She asked, but before he could respond she’d climbed on top of him, wrapping him in a koala hug, nestling her head under his chin.

Naturally, he hugged her back, his arms snaking around her waist.

He shrugged. “I’m not mad at you.”

She giggled into his chest, sending tremors up his body, the warmest kind. “You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why you married me,” he kissed the top of her head. “You’re too good for me.”

Raquel pushed herself up till they were nose to nose, giving him a pointed look. “I haven’t been too good for anyone since we were kids.” She pressed a quick kiss on his lips, intending to pull away, but he gripped her chin before she could, kissing her deeply.

He’d never get tired of that… and he’d never get tired of her.

For the longest time, he thought it was too far-fetched to expect he’d find someone willing to stick around through all of his bullshit, much less someone who’d legally binded herself to him.

He was still in awe with how it played out.

He’d returned to Los Angeles dangerously too soon after their run in with The Brotherhood. Incidentally enough, he was laying low on high alert for so long… but nothing came of it.

Maybe they’d been arrested, maybe they’d gotten justice, or maybe they just moved on to terrorize another city. He’d always assumed it was the latter.

Rebuilding his father’s autoshop was painful, no matter how deep he tried to shove those feelings down.

Colt’s vision for his father’s crumbling empire wasn’t one that came into focus for him for years.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, all he had to show for it was a struggling auto shop with a few criminal employees who barely knew how to hotwire a car.

It seemed like there were no hills in sight, only cavernous valleys.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, the death of his father, and the end of the Mercy Park Crew, she came into focus.

Raquel stepped into the garage, heels clacking against the dirty concrete, her gait determined.

He watched her from his tiny office, peering through the blinds as she glided confidently across the auto shop and up to his door.

She rapped her knuckles against it a few times, a little too heavy handedly.

There’s no way she’s really here, he thought, shaking his head. No fucking way.

He debated whether or not to let her in – the last time a Kaneko opened their doors to her, they nearly ruined her life.

He twisted the knob and yanked it open anyways, an insult bubbling up his throat. After all these years, he figured he’d be relieved to see her, but the tiny sliver of relief was easily overshadowed by his knee jerk reaction of annoyance and shock.

There was a small part of him that was excited, but not enough to warrant being nice to her.

When he came face to face with her for the first time, she spoke first. “Hi, Mr. Kaneko. I’d like to apply for a bookkeeping job.”

He blinked when she shoved a thick manila folder in his hands. “I think my qualifications speak for themselves.”

He thumbs the edges of the papers, flipping through her resume and the thick Master’s thesis. She’s too fucking smart to be back here.

Before anyone in the shop could see, he tugged her arm till she was inside, all but slamming the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She ripped her arm from his grasp, brows furrowed. “I’m here to work.”

“Don’t you get how dangerous it is for you to be here or are you just stupid?” He all but spat, slapping the folder onto his desk.

“If I’m stupid that makes you just as much of an idiot as me,” she countered, crossing her arms firmly. “I know the risks.”

“You can’t be dumb enough to think I’d take that risk, though,” he rolled his eyes, plopping into the chair at his desk.

She laughed – actually laughed – at him, covering her mouth. “Forgive me for that.”

He cocked a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I went to school with pretentious male academics for five years, Colt. Whatever you’re gonna say to me has already been said, and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

He leans forward, flipping to her resume, tearing it off the top. “Let’s see, here. Langston college, yeah, I remember that. Graduated with honors? Predictable to do that three times in a row, don’t you think?”

She laughed again. “That’s a new one. I’ll have to log that under my favorite insults.”

“Well, I have loads. You’re giving me lots of material, Miss Olvera,” he mocked her, going back to skimming her resume.

Truthfully, he was trying to scare her away by being mean, and it wasn’t working. He didn’t want to dig too deep, though, because he wasn’t that evil.

He liked the girl – hell, if he didn’t like her, would he be bending over backwards to make her hate him purely for her safety?

“I can’t pay you well. I’m still rebuilding, and we’re barely breaking even. We’ve been sticking to straight work till I can manage to rebuild our reputation and relationships with buyers.”

She nodded. “I completely understand, and I don’t mind.”

“What, are you gonna ask me for a place to stay next?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

He was lying if he didn’t feel a little something stir in his stomach at the possibility of her staying in his apartment above the shop.

“No, I’m alright.”

“You came back to L.A. and you immediately have a place to stay? You’re lying.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, she shook her head. “I’m back at my dad’s house.”

“What? There’s no fucking way I’m letting you work here if you’re living with a cop –”

“He passed away last year,” she chewed her lip, trying to keep her face neutral. “He had a heart attack in the middle of the night. Couldn’t get to the phone in time.

“Thankfully, he had a will set in place soon after mom died,” she shrugged. “I got the house, so I’m good.”

His fists clenched at his side. He’d already taken it too far without even meaning to.

“Sorry to hear that.”

She scoffed, a single forced laugh bursting from her lips. “You don’t have to respect him in front of me to save face or whatever. Your feelings about my dad don’t affect me.”

He nodded once, and the room descended into silence. He took the time to actually read her resume that time around, finding himself genuinely impressed with what she’d accomplished.

What he wanted to ask was “Why the fuck did you come back here?” but instead, what came out was, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

“I’m sure.”

She said those words with such conviction that he never had to ask again.

Raquel cuddled up to him, her breathing evening out. He hadn’t realized they’d gone that long without speaking.

He didn’t mind it though. He didn’t care as long as she was with him.

She stirred in her sleep, nearly rolling off of him, so he took that as his cue to tuck her in.

When she was settled under the covers, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped out onto the deck.

The beach house they’d rented was a hundred feet from the shore, the waves grating against the sand creating the perfect white noise.

Perfect for sleeping, he mused, thinking about how quickly Raquel fell asleep in his arms, watching the water crash and retreat, push and pull over and over.

That same back and forth was what eventually brought him and Raquel together. They butted heads constantly, but had the same view on lots of decisions. They’d finish each other’s sentences and the crew would give each other knowing looks that he ignored.

A year in, she finally broke down. Not purposefully, and certainly not with the intent of him finding her curled into a sobbing mess outside of the garage.

“Hey what the hell, Raquel? It’s dangerous out here,” he called as he jogged up to her crumpled form.

He didn’t notice she was crying until he’d crouched down to check the injuries he thought she’d have.

She shielded her face with one hand and used the other to wave him away. “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving until you’re safe.”

It wasn’t even meant to be romantic. He’d do it for the rest of his crew since they’d grown so close.

There wasn’t a possibility of anything happening between them, or so he thought at the time. And what she admitted to him that night sealed their fate for years.

He’d managed to help her inside to his office, pulling back his worn office chair for her to collapse into.

A short “You okay?” Was all he could manage. He was new to this wellness check stuff and it didn’t come naturally to him.

But he knew as a leader, he had to do a lot more than just telling people what to do. Even if they split without a word in a week’s time, they were still a working machine that needed a little elbow grease every once in a while.

Even in the dim lamp light he could tell her eyes were red rimmed.

“I don’t think you want to hear my explanation as to why I’m not,” she laughed humorlessly, using the sleeve of her shirt to scrub the streak of makeup under her eye.

“I’m not good at this comforting shit, but I’ve got ears and I’ve gotten pretty good at using them,” he joked, sliding into the rickety folding chair in front of the desk.

She shrugged, flinging her hands up. “You’re gonna make fun of me –”

“– I won’t –”

“– You will, Colt. I know you and you’re gonna scoff the minute I take a breath.”

He couldn’t hold back the small smile at that.

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to take it to heart.”

She sniffled, laughing. “You’re hard to ignore.”

“So are you, hard ass. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The sigh that came from her was labored, struggled, like she was about to drop heavy weights onto the floor of the office.

“Today’s the one year anniversary since I started working for you.”

He cocked a brow. “That’s it?”

“If you’d just let me explain then you’d know,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re already sucking at being a good listener.”

He held his hands up in surrender, leaning back into his chair. “Sorry.”

“My whole game plan was to figure out how to make myself useful. It’s why I got my Masters in accounting in the first place. I wanted to have my solid place in the crew, you know? Like I earned my spot.”

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I just had this stupid fairytale idea in my head about coming back to L.A. and none of that’s come true.”

“Well, what was it? Anything I can do?” He asked.

Raquel sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She shook her head in response, taking a few deep breaths till she could finish.

“I wanted our old crew back. I… thought Logan would be back here by now, or looking for me at the very least,” she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. “I waited five years to come back here and I’ve barely lasted one year in L.A. without him.”

He couldn’t help but flex his hand in and out of a fist a couple times as she spoke.

Yeah, it was true he didn’t care for Logan that much, but she liked him. Loved him, even.

If she was this dedicated to him six years later and he still hadn’t tried finding her, he didn’t deserve her.

“So it’s about Logan?” He asked with zero judgement, and she could tell.

She nodded, sniffling again. “Maybe I’ve just deluded myself into thinking we meant more to each other, but I’m still in love with him and I don’t know when that’s going to end for me.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he thought was best.

He stood up, taking a couple steps till he was close enough to lay his palm on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently across the fabric.

She laid her hand on his thumb, holding it in place, as the sobs shook her body.

After that, he tried his hardest to keep her from crying. Which entailed leaving Logan’s name out of things.

Colt abandoned his shirt and shoes at the back door and hopped off the deck, landing softly on the sand. He took his time walking towards the water, gaze transfixed on the moon, which was at its peak in the sky.

He always thought the fact that the sea and moon were interlinked was kind of peculiar. The moon, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away, had just enough power to pull the waves in the right direction.

He thought of Raquel like his moon far too often. The minute he was in her gravitational pull, he found himself wanting to follow her – to let her take the reins – and that was rare.

The first time he knew it was the beginning of the end with her was when a job went south.

Three years after she broke down about wanting the old crew back, they got a taste of the old violence.

One of their crew members, Isaac, had said for weeks that he had a weird gut feeling about that job in particular. Colt waved him off, reminding him that he’d value proof over superstition anyday.

In short, they were ambushed – nothing out of the ordinary in terms of their day to day risk.

What Colt wasn’t expecting, however, was for Raquel to be the one who got hurt.

They were cornered by the masked group, and before their crewmember Aly could grab her gun and shoot, one of them fired, the cracking sound of the gunshot echoing off the concrete flooring of the rundown parking garage.

Raquel’s pained groan followed immediately after.

Colt’s heart stopped when he saw the fabric of her jeans turning a deep deep maroon, the blood spreading faster than he could process what’d happened.

Her eyes fluttered and she stumbled to her knees, crying out as she knelt, bending her legs, one of which had been freshly torn through with a bullet.

“Don’t let them get away –” he shouted, flinging his arm in the direction of the fleeing criminals. He knelt down to scoop Raquel’s crumpled form into his arms. “Isaac, stay here.”

Isaac froze, nodding. “Anything you need, boss.”

“Drop me off at the shop so I can patch her up. I have to stop the bleeding.”

Colt’s voice was calm and even, but inside he was at his breaking point. He sat in the backseat of the car with Raquel strewn across his lap, the color draining from her face with each passing minute.

His palm was firmly pressed against her calf to halt the bleeding. He was thankful that the adrenaline was numbing the pain till they could make it to the shop.

She’d wince every time he adjusted his slippery grip, instinctively turning her head into the crook of his neck. That didn’t cross his mind till much later.

When she attempted talking once or twice, he furiously shushed her each time. “Save your energy. You’ll need it.”

When Isaac skidded to a stop in the garage, Colt tossed his keys Isaac’s way. “Take my car and get out of the city for a few days. Lay low. I’ll clean this one up and it’ll be good as new when you come back.”

Isaac nodded, brows furrowed. “I should’ve… I knew it was gonna go south but I should’ve tried to convince you again –”

Colt held up a hand. “You were right, and I should’ve trusted your gut instinct, and I will from now on. This is solely on me. Don’t blame yourself.”

He nodded, hopping out of the car, sliding into Colt’s convertible, and disappearing into the night.

He’d managed to get Raquel into the apartment and onto the worn leather couch in the office – she was pale and clammy, flitting in and out of being fully aware of what was going on.

“Colt… I can clean up my leg, just… just give me a second to catch my breath,” she said, her eyes drooping closed.

“Absolutely not. Give me a second. I’m trying to find the goddamn gauze but I don’t see it anywhere –”

He was glad his back was turned, because he was shaking in terror and rage in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

The first aid kit clattered out of his hands and onto the desk, and he cursed, gripping the side of the desk till his knuckles were bright white and screaming at him to let go.

“Colt…” she whispered. “I’ll be fine. I’m just hurting.”

He dragged a chair to her side, propping her ankle up against his knee before getting to work cutting a thin line up the outer seam of her jeans. The blood trickled onto his own leg, saturating the denim of his pant leg immediately.

“Are you gonna ignore me the whole time you work on my leg?” She joked, wincing. “Fuck –”

The scissors were close to the wound, and he tried his best to stretch it away from it before cutting further.

“Sorry,” he murmured, grabbing two rags and dousing it in hydrogen peroxide. He rolled up the second one, handing it to Raquel.

She sighed shakily before stuffing it into her mouth, digging her fingers into the cracked leather of the couch.

She nodded once, giving him the sign to get it over with.

The second the damp rag touched her bloodied skin, she panted through her nose, eyes screwed shut.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He grunted, grimacing as her thigh bucked against his hand, despite him trying to hold her in place.

When he touched the wound, she screamed, devolving into choked, muffled sobs.

He’d made a vow to make sure she never cried over Logan again, and instead he’d broken his promise by putting her in direct danger over and over and over again.

There was no reason for her to accompany them on jobs – she knew the risk, and didn’t care, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t stop her from coming.

No matter how hard he tried, he was always the reason she was getting hurt.

“This is all my fault,” he said, when he’d finished cleaning her wound. “I should’ve never let you come along to our trades.”

She scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, a couple stray tears still glistening across her temples. “I wanted to be a part of this. Like you said to Isaac, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I don’t care what you say, alright? It was my fucking fault and you should’ve never been a part of this life.”

“Colt.”

He glanced up, barely able to meet her gaze.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, I’ve been a part of this life for nearly ten years now. I’m almost thirty. You’re closer to thirty than me. I know what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m sticking by you regardless of the risk on my life.”

She slipped a clammy hand over his, which still held her thigh firmly in place. “If I lose my life on a job, I don’t regret it at all. I’d never regret meeting you.”

She took a labored breath, laying back against the armrest. “That took a lot out of me.”

Colt shook his head. “Stop talking. You need your energy.”

Raquel rolled her eyes. “I try being nice to you and you ignore it every time.”

“I just don’t know what the fuck to say to that. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, huh?” He asked incredulously.

She blinked, her eyes narrowing. “I just got fucking shot, and you’re cursing at me while asking me to be your therapist? Am I hearing that right?”

He picked up his bloodied hands from her leg and threw them up in the air. “I have a lot going on in my head right now, and I’m not trying to fight you or get you to be my fuckin’ therapist, alright? I’m just confused.” He was barely below a shout, his chest heaving when he was done.

“I can’t read your mind, Colt. I’m kind of delirious with blood loss right now, so the least you can do is not yell at me and ask me politely to slate this conversation for later,” she said firmly, wincing while she shifted on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he panted, shrugging his stained black thermal off. He tossed it to the side, revealing his equally as bloodied white tee.

He slipped that shirt off, too, tearing the shirt into long strips.

Raquel watched him, her brown eyed gaze one of both confusion and something more he couldn’t place and didn’t care to think about.

Wordlessly, he plopped back down, tying the shredded strips above the wound on her calf, fingertips grazing her skin as delicately as he could manage.

He let his hands linger for a bit too long, staring at the open wound on her leg.

Daring a look her way, Colt caught her watching him with a soft gaze, one that he hadn’t earned.

“You’re not mad at me for being there tonight… you’re mad at yourself for not protecting me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once.

“You’re hoping that this makes me want to leave, because you won’t ask me yourself. You don’t want me to leave.”

He nodded again, glancing away from her.

After a long silence and avoidance of turning her way, she spoke first.

“You’re worried I don’t feel the same.”

He froze, dropping his hands from her leg. She was right, but if he admitted to it and she still didn’t feel the same, then what was he risking all this shit for?

Why was he still clinging onto the hope that she’d feel the same if nine years of pining was seconds away from being thrown out the window?

Mustering up his remaining courage, he nodded one last time.

And when he looked at her that time, she was beaming. Through the excruciating pain, she was smiling.

He broke first, scooting to the edge of his chair to get as close as he could. “What?”

“It’s funny that you were worried we weren’t on the same page. I think we might’ve been for a long time,” she laughed, hoarse and weak, but it was still her laugh that he loved so much.

“What do you mean?”

And then she said the words that he’d desperately needed to hear for nearly a decade.

“I came for Logan but I stayed for you.”

Once Raquel admitted that to him, he was all in. Completely committed, never faltering.

Their first kiss was anything but, the sensation one of nine years of pent up feelings from Colt’s end, and years of her own. Their first kiss was more of a sealant of their future (and their fate).

Their first kiss was everything Colt had dreamed of.

He kissed her like she was air and he was drowning and she was filling his lungs to the brim, her warmth spreading from his insides out.

She didn’t pull away after the first one, and neither did he.

For who knew how long, he was on his knees next to the bloodied couch, cupping her face with his palms, and kissing her like he had a decade of missed opportunities to make up for.

After that, they were inseparable.

And he never doubted her devotion to him again.

They fell into a routine of working at the shop together during the day and into the late hours of the night after everyone had left, before stumbling upstairs into Colt’s apartment, lips locked, hands roaming.

And she drove him to every job from then on, easily evading cops and maneuvering the underbelly of L.A. like it was second nature.

Colt waded into the warm water, barely feeling it as it lapped at his ankles, calves, thighs.

When he was waist deep, he opted to float on his back, using the opportunity to revel in the star littered sky. One he didn’t get to see too often in the heavily light polluted sky of Los Angeles. Was this really the same sky he’d lived under all these years?

He didn’t really plan on marrying Raquel.

It was never in the sleazy way where he was going to leave her the second he got what he wanted – he was content being with her. Living with her. Kissing her. Loving her.

But he didn’t think he needed to go through the motions because that’s supposedly what people in love did. He figured it was enough to spend his life with her without doing all the extra shit.

She brought it up first, nearly four years later.

At that point, he moved into her father’s house with her – they’d crash in Colt’s old apartment above the shop if they were too tired to drive home.

They were curled up on the old futon in his room, huddling under the blankets, and she was curled against his side, drawing circles through his short tuft of chest hair.

“We should get married.”

“Hmm?” He asked, in a haze, nearly drifting off to sleep before she’d spoken.

“You heard me.”

“You really wanna?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always wanted to get married, even when I was a little girl.”

He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her closer.

“You’ve always been a daydreamer then,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I used to dig up my old Easter dresses and strut into the living room asking my Dad to walk me down the aisle.”

“And did he?”

She laughed, lifting her head to get a good look at him. “Yep. Walked me right down the hallway and back to my room to change me out of my clothes.”

Her face fell a bit despite the fond memory. “I think I care more about it now because I know my parents won’t be there. It feels like if I don’t get married, I’m breaking a promise, as dumb as that sounds.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound dumb at all, sweetheart. I don’t care what we do as long as it makes you happy.”

She smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

Wrapping her up in a hug, he kisses her back with fervor, echoing her sentiment in the form of mumbling against her lips. I love you.

Roughly a year later, they opted for a quick courthouse wedding and a honeymoon that consisted of staying in bed all day and ordering food to build back the calories they’d burned.

Around that time, Raquel reconnected with some of her only living relatives on her Dad’s side. She’d gotten close to a few of her distant cousins, and they convinced her to have a small ceremony for their family in Belize.

And fifteen years after he’d met Raquel, on the cusp of spring and summer, he married her again in front of an intimate crowd and kissed her like it was their first time.

He’d complained about having to ass kiss her judgemental old relatives, but he didn’t really mind. Seeing her in a white dress, beaming like it was the best day of her life, was enough to make any issue nothing but a minor annoyance.

“Hey!”

Colt swirled his arms in the water till he was upright again, grinning when he noticed the bright red lines on her face – she’d clearly just woken up.

“Hey, sweetheart. You sleep okay?”

“Come back to bed,” she asked, pointing at the back door of their beach house.

He tipped his chin at her. “You come out here.”

She rolled her eyes, before tearing off her nightgown, running towards the water at full speed, no hesitation.

He caught her in his arms, letting her wrap her legs comfortably around his waist while he waded out to deeper waters.

“Ugh. I was having a good dream, too, until I realized the bed was empty,” she grumbled, looping her arms tighter around his neck.

“Sorry about that. I promise next time I’ll wake you up before I head out.”

She nodded, content with his answer.

They were both chest deep in the water, faces close, the soft rays from the moon the only light they had.

“Why’d you bring me out here, Colt?” She murmured, eyes flitting to his lips, which were upturned in a soft smile.

“I was just thinking. This spring makes fifteen years since I met you.”

She hugged him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “And only, like, six years since we came to our senses.”

He laughed heartily, squeezing her tighter around the waist. “You’re right.”

“Remember when we jumped off the cliff together?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. It was the first time I ever felt a spark with you,” she grinned. “Took a long time for it to turn into a flame, though.”

“That was the first time I knew I loved you,” he admitted. “I wanted to kiss you so badly and I kicked myself in the ass for years for not trying –”

She cut him off with a passionate kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth almost as soon as his mouth moved in tandem with hers. It was the sloppy, unplanned kiss he’d envisioned for that day.

“I think everything worked out for the better. I’m not sure we were ready for each other back then,” she said honestly, her forehead pressed against his.

“We needed to grow a little bit before falling in love, huh? You’re so smart,” he said, voice low, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Yeah, and now we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

She was right (like she always was), and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his chest like he’d felt many times before.

He’d waited that damn long for her, so he was going to savor the rest of their life together as much as he could.

#playchoices #choices rod #rodaw #rodtimecapsule #colt kaneko #colt kaneko x mc #jade writes choices fics #cw: injury #cw: guns #cw: blood #tw wounds #tw injury

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imjeralee · 4 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 11 - It’s a TRAP!

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

Extra Note: this is really my attempt in writing a big case, so shout out to the awesome @crikeygatormate, @alisakagi and @elisanice for their suggestions :) @marydragneell - here is the latest update

It's a TRAP!

…

[It is proposed that poltergeists are actually the emotions of troubled individuals – built up during times of stress. This theory, known as Spontaneous Recurring Psychokinesis suggests that this built-up stress then unconsciously projects outwards in the form of mental energy, which effects the physical environment and produces the phenomena attributed to poltergeists.] … …

The next day, you head to Wyndon Police Station to meet Graves.

You enter the busy establishment, glancing around. Inside, various policemen and women are seated at desks, busily serving people. You tell reception you’re here to see the Chief Inspector and they let you enter and you pass a young male officer of average height standing near the vending machine with a Grapploct, Growlithe and a Herdier in police hats and corresponding uniforms. He glances at you with a grin, chewing on a Lumiose Galette.

"Back again, kooky girl?" he says with a thick brogue, “Heard you solved the Giant’s Seat case. What kinda weird hoodoo did you do this time?”

You ignore him, heading to the Chief Inspector’s office and rap lightly on the door with your knuckles.

“Come in,” says a gruff and stern voice, and you subsequently enter the room.

Manectric sleeps in his basket near the coat stand whilst Arcanine sits in another corner, biting on a chew toy, and a disgruntled-looking Graves sits at his desk, going through some files. He swerves his eyes up to you when you step in and then returns to rifle through the papers before settling them down.

Graves' office is very bland but messy and as Chief Inspector, he is neck-deep with all sorts of cases so you are quite thankful he has made time for you this afternoon. You take the black leather seat opposite him and look at his desk, glancing at the Newton’s Cradle beside a small berry planter where all the leaves are dead and the soil is dried up. There is also a shiny gold plaque with his name and job title on it which thoroughly reminds you again of the authority he holds here.

He scans your face briefly before he says, “You okay, kid?” His mouth keeps moving as you nod in response. He must be chewing gum. “Did you bring it?”

“Yeah,” you delve a hand into your bag and lift out the Dusk ball with Froslass inside; you look at her capsule in your hands before hesitantly placing it on the desk. You are parting ways with her, and you wished you had more time to study and keep her. “...Promise me she won’t get hurt.”

Graves sighs as he takes the capsule and swivels round in his seat, dragging it over to a metal cabinet and pulling out one of the drawers in the middle, dropping it inside. “You know I can’t. There are rules for pokemon that kill, it's out of my jurisdiction.”

“Tell them it’s not her fault,” you protest and he slams the drawer shut, causing you to wince at the loud noise.

“We are not going to debate about this,” Graves grunts as he returns to his desk, the wheels rolling loudly, “You know the drill; the top’s asking for an explanation for the official report. I’m gonna say Leon got taken by a Froslass, you were in the vicinity and since you’re buddies with Leon, you and Charizard followed his trail, leading you to the den. That sound ‘bout right?”

“Yeah.”

Graves nods, picks up his pen and begins signing the forms one by one. “You are aware that you’re not going to get any credit for this, aren’t you?”

“I don’t want any credit.”

With eyebrows raised, Graves then says, “Magnolia gave me an earful the other day. And I should’ve known better too; I shouldn’t have given you that information. She doesn’t want you to work on these cases anymore and neither do I. And stop talking to that homeless guy.”

“That homeless guy is my mentor.”

“That homeless guy is an ex-convict who was charged with the murder of his wife and kid.”

“He didn’t kill anyone, a demon possessed-”

With that, Graves groans audibly with frustration, rubbing his temples, “Arceus, enough with this mumbo jumbo supernatural talk about ghosts and demons, you’re giving me a helluva headache.”

“You’re the one who let me help out with this case.”

“I know, and I bloody well regret it now. What was I thinking? Things are different, you could’ve died back there - both you and Leon, and then I’d have ten dead bodies on my hands, not eight. I’m serious. Just promise me you ain’t gonna do this anymore. Nobody asked you to and nobody expects you to. You’re just a kid. You should be doing the gym challenge or doing something young people are doing these days. Like doing makeup tutorial videos and posting them online. Anything but this.”

“But-"

He interrupts you hastily. “You ain’t one of us so stop acting like one of us. Stop pretending. You ain’t some private investigator and you ain’t some homicide detective. You don’t have the shiny badge, the gun or the right qualifications. If you really wanted to, you’d do it officially, sign up and take some exams or something. You'd get paid a hell lot more too.”

“Graves, I know what I’m doing and I know what I’m getting myself into. I don’t want to join the force and I don’t need to. ”

“Don’t you get it? One day you’re gonna end up dead. The next body we find is gonna be yours and I don’t want that.”

You sit in your seat with a frown, crossing your arms, “If you believed me those years ago, you and I won’t be sitting here having this conversation.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, I’m your goddamn godfather,” Graves barks, his thick brows knitting tightly, his annoyed gaze pinned on your weary form.

“If you had just listened to me all those years ago when I came to the police station then my mum and dad-“

“Goddamnit! How many times do I have to tell you? They’re dead!” he snaps at you, slamming his fist on the table and the papers fly and his pokemon look up.

Upon realization of his harsh tone and his acute frown, he stops, his expression clearing up and dissolving into a remorseful one. Graves plops backwards in his seat with an agitated sigh, fists loosening and his face becoming flushed as he sweeps a large palm through his messy hair before he emits an exhausted groan.

“Look, kid, I…I’m sorry, I ain’t good at these things…and I-I didn’t mean…you’re a good kid, I know you mean well but…this is dangerous, you know?”

“….They’re not dead,” you say quietly before you get up from your seat and head to the door.

As Graves lets out a helpless, exasperated sigh in response, your mind is hazy, filled with unspoken rage and before you know it, you have left Wyndon Police Station.

You’re in a foul mood yet you still have a meeting with Rose in an hour. Taking deep breaths, you head to Wyndon Café to buy an extra large coffee and attempt to cool off by sitting at the fountain and drowning yourself with copious amounts of caffeine.

It’s not often you have an argument with Graves but when you do, it’s usually about the questionable existence of your family.

Your wristwatch blips, indicating that it’s almost the time of the meeting so you quickly finish the rest of your drink and head to the Rose of the Rondelands, the glamorous five-star hotel to the left of Wyndon Stadium.

“This better be worth my time,” you grunt under your breath as you tiredly scrub your face with your hand.

You wonder what this meeting would encompass when you speak to reception and are directed to the tea lounge. Leon has said something to Rose about you. Couldn’t this have been done over email? Your mood improves after you're seated down on one of the plush, cosy red settees whilst being served an array of fancy tea and scones by the well-dressed waiting staff. A pianist plays the Wyndon City theme in an eloquent and tranquil pace whilst regular customers chat over their fancy three-tiered cake trays. The ambience is disturbed as footsteps approach you and you look up.

It’s Chairman Rose and Oleana.

“Good afternoon,” says Rose, who promptly looks at you from head to toe. He’s assessing you already, masquerading whatever opinion he’s already formed in his mind about you with a light smile on his face. He holds his hand out and you stand up and firmly shake hands, “Thank you for coming.”

You have only seen Rose on TV or when he’s in his civilian disguise so seeing him in person and so close is quite the surreal experience. He's shorter than you thought. His assistant is tall and beautiful, and commands an equally empowering presence with her slender frame, complete with a disciplined quietness you haven’t seen elsewhere. In fact, she seems almost…robotic.

They seat themselves down on the couch opposite yours after the formalities are over; Oleana has a designer briefcase with her, which she nestles behind her back. A waiter arrives shortly with a tray carrying a wine glass which he settles in front of Rose on the low coffee table.

Chairman Rose thanks him, picks up the glass and the meeting starts, “Leon’s told me so much about you, I had to meet you myself. First of all, I want to thank you for everything you have done.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” you reply, as Rose takes a sip whilst Oleana sits rigidly in her seat whilst keeping her monotone gaze pinned on your form. Her lips are tightly pursed together, so tiny, that they look like red dots on her face; she resembles those porcelain dolls.

“The work that you do has come to my attention, so I’ve asked you to meet me here today. I’d like to hear more about your experiences. I’m fully aware that you study ghost type pokemon and you deal with the paranormal.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” you reply, and you proceed to tell him briefly about yourself and what you do.

Rose nods as he listens, seemingly pleased with everything you’re saying, and his smile widens, “Wonderful, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear for I have a request. I’m about to open a brand new art gallery soon. The grand unveiling was delayed as it’s come to my attention that it may be ‘haunted’. The staff complain incessantly of hearing odd noises and seeing objects moving at night…I’d like you to investigate. Ghost or not, I want to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible."

This sounds right up your alley so you nod, “Of course.”

“Thank you, you will be rewarded handsomely. Oleana will handle this initial consulting fee, your remuneration and paperwork.”

“Paperwork?”

“Yes, we’ll need you to sign some papers.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Take all the time you need and you’re welcome to bring along any assistants as long as they sign the papers too.”

“No problem,” you reply, “I should be able to get it done in one night. When would you like me to start?”

“Today, if possible. I can’t afford to delay the deadline any further.”

“Understood.”

Rose smiles widely and you continue to engage in small talk such as The Pokemon League, the Giant's Seat Incidence, Leon, Macro Cosmos, before Rose checks his silver, expensive wristwatch for the current time. “I have another meeting at half four so I’ll take you to the gallery right now. Unfortunately I won’t be able to show you around for long."

“That’s fine,” you say and with a plan in mind, Rose and Oleana rise from their seats, gesturing and allowing you to exit first. You’re somewhat nervous and just before you leave the hotel, Oleana fishes out a white tracksuit, cap and sunglasses from the briefcase which Rose puts on quickly.

She nods after he thanks her but remains silent as Rose treks outside in his half-civilian disguise with you beside him. Regardless, the Chairman takes you around the back of the hotel that leads to a dirty and smelly alleyway which consists of a linear path straight ahead that connects to various buildings on the same street. There are a few smokers lurking outside but they don’t pay attention to you.

“This is the quickest route. Please excuse the smell,” Rose says with a chuckle; you’re stunned a man of his calibre is happy to walk through this trashy street in his expensive shoes.

The walk to the art gallery is relatively quick; it’s a few blocks from the hotel and once you have arrived at the steel door of a building that resembles the hotel, with the same red-brick exterior, Oleana takes over, fishes for the key in the briefcase and proceeds to unlock the huge door which opens with a low creak.

A long and narrow corridor with linoleum flooring lies ahead. It's a fire exit, you realise. Your group enters and Rose abandons his disguise and sweeps his fingers through his hair. “This way.”

He leads you through the corridor that splits off to another branching corridor that leads to various staffrooms and the basement, but Rose leads you directly up the stairs and finally, pushes another set of doors and you appear at the visitor’s hall which is a large and spacious, brightly-lit room. The windows are massive and the walls stretch high above your heads. It resembles the typical museum format and layout with many long and huge posters with Pikachus and pictures of legendary Pokemon outlining the various exhibits and a giant plastic Wailord hanging from the ceiling.

“Wow, this is amazing,” you say as you gawk at the Wailored display and Rose chuckles. The art gallery is beautiful...how could it be haunted?

“Thank you,” he says, and your group make their way towards the direction of the visitor’s desk where you see a member of staff manning the desk alongside a familiar figure who glances over at your direction.

You’re stunned to see that this familiar person is none other than Leon; you were getting used to seeing him in casual wear, in a thick woolly jumper or his black sweats. Donned in the tight Champion's shirt, white leggings and the majestic cape, Leon has turned into an entirely different person...

Whilst the receptionist bows her head at Rose, the Chairman looks surprised to see the Champion. “Leon? What are you doing here?”

Leon’s honey-coloured eyes settles on you briefly and you freeze on the spot, your heart begins thumping hard all over again and you inwardly kick yourself in a vain effort to stop. Luckily, Leon quickly averts his gaze to the Chairman and smiles warmly, “Hello Chairman Rose, I just wanted to stop by and make sure everything’s okay.”

“Thank you, Leon, that’s very generous of you. Everything’s fine, your friend here has agreed to help so I’m going to quickly show her around,” Rose says jovially in response; he's scrapped the introductions since he's aware you are both well-acquainted. “Well then, let’s begin, shall we?”

You wonder if Leon’s listening because he returns to stare at you and your heartbeat soars to an astronomical rate as you sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye and you see that he has not stopped; your cheeks grows warm as you contemplate the fact that he is staring at you continuously but Rose and Oleana appear oblivious to this tension between you and the Champion.

Rose heads over to a set of double doors with the sign ‘Right Wing’ above them. You muster the bravery to fully glance at Leon briefly and when your gazes meet, his mouth moves a fraction but ultimately, he is silent, deciding it's best not to say much in the Chairman's presence especially because this is essentially, business. You cannot help but feel Leon is different once he dons the Champion cape and uniform.

He’s distant, painfully so.

Nevertheless, you follow Rose and Oleana inside the right wing with Leon trailing behind and Rose throws open the doors and it’s then you see the true extent of the art gallery’s size and the many treasures he has gathered over the years.

“We have an insect emporium, butterfly exhibit, gems display, antiques section and modern art exhibit,” Rose says proudly, and he continues rambling, going on about the other exhibits in the left wing but as you stare at your new surroundings, your chest clenches and your breathing grows laboured.

A darkness has settled within this very building.

Hoping no-one had noticed your change in demeanour (except Leon, because suddenly he appears worried for you), you turn to Rose and ask, “This is a brand new building?”

You’re aware Leon is watching you and your nerves soar through the roof, but you try your best to focus on the task at hand.

“Yes, but it’s actually smaller compared to other galleries such as the museum in Pewter City. It's only one floor."

“Did you have any problems during construction? For example, any accidents onsite?"

"Nothing that I'm aware of."

"And did you receive any warnings beforehand about the land you were building on?”

“None whatsoever. It went swimmingly,” Rose replies and you slide your gaze to the ground, to your feet.

At least Rose was smart and didn't build anything on top of ancient burial grounds. But that means there's nothing wrong with the building itself and it's to do with something inside. What is this...feeling? There's something...

Leon observes your reaction until you look up and spot a sign in the corner that says: ‘Dedicated to Edward Rose’.

“Who’s Edward Rose?”

“Excellent question, Edward Rose was one of my ancestors,” Rose says, “He was a lover of art and an avid treasure hunter himself, so the majority of these extravagant items on display were curated by him and I've decided to release them on display to the public. He was a great man."

You lift Rotom out to do an online search on Edward Rose to see what else comes up but there is limited information available.

Rose snaps his fingers and on cue, Oleana hands you several documents from the briefcase which you unfurl properly to study them carefully. It’s a map of the art gallery and several marketing leaflets containing all the exhibits. “Sir,” she says, “Your meeting will begin in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, Oleana. I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave now,” Rose says, “I look forward to the results of your investigation.”

“Leave it to me," you assure them.

Rose and Oleana exit after you exchange goodbyes, leaving yourself and Leon in the right wing. Leon, having maintained a distance from you since you had arrived, finally walks up to you and stops by your side as you let your eyes wander over the papers before you fold them back up.

“What do you think?” Leon asks.

You wish he wouldn't ask you this question because you're actually not too sure. For certain, a distinct dark and foreboding presence lingers somewhere in the art gallery but you're not entirely sure where.

"Give me a minute," is all you say, before you begin to wander through the various displays and exhibits and Leon joins your side, falling in line with you, step by step. “The guards are right. There’s something here,” you utter as you glance around and he follows where you are looking but you are moving too fast for him so he has a hard time catching up.

You are purposely attempting not to look at him and he ends up following you through the right wing and all the way to the left wing, and back.

Unfortunately, you come to one drastic conclusion: “I can't tell right now. Entities are more active at night so I will need to come back when it's dark.”

Your brief investigation is over, so you and Leon exit the art gallery and onto the large stone steps. Once you’re outside with the Champion, you see that the art gallery is stationed on a cosy-looking street of Wyndon, far from the crowds. It’s more of a suburban area that is filled with quaint cafes and souvenir shops.

Glancing behind you to the building, the art gallery is very normal; it is a large and extravagant building in plain sight. A billboard stands to the left, just before the grand staircase, outlining the unveiling date and where to sign up for RSVP.

“How are you anyway?” you ask, as you stuff Rose's papers into your bag.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks for asking.”

You don’t think it is wise to ask him why he didn’t reply to your message which you think he is aware of, because he looks sheepish all of a sudden.

“I met Ezra at the soup kitchen,” he adds and you quirk a brow, “he wanted me to give you this. He said it needs one more spirit and that you'll understand.”

He takes out the Odd Keystone from his pockets and hands you the smooth stone.

"Thanks.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Leon asks quietly, but you shake your head and deposit the stone in your bag then scoop Rotom out, typing a quick message.

“There’s no need, I’ll ask Jace for help,” you utter under your breath.

“Jace…?” Leon murmurs, and he throws his gaze to the side.

He sounds hurt.

“Yeah, so…I better get ready for tonight. I don’t want to take up any more of your precious time either. Bye Leon,” you say quickly, before you hop down the stairs and towards the Corviknight taxi ranks.

“Ah, right…goodbye,” he says, but you didn’t hear.

You wonder if you had unintentionally made Leon feel bad.

…

It’s almost night-time and much preparation is needed for the case.

Although preparation in your books, is getting as much sleep as possible before you woke up later on in the evening to get ready and head out.

Along with the leaflets, Rose has sent you an extremely confidential pdf file that contains the list of all the displays and exhibits inside the gallery so you have an electronic copy. Overall, it’s a lot to go through, so you move onto the transcripts of the hauntings taken down by the terrified staff.

It’s the usual: doors opening and closing, knocking on the walls, grunting, growling and to top it all off, moving pieces of furniture.

Sounds like poltergeist activity which isn’t unusual in your books, and you finish packing your bag with your essentials.

You go through the papers Rose wants you to sign and it’s all legal affairs. If you are injured on premises, Rose and Macro Cosmos bear no liability. If you break anything in the art gallery, you’re also fully liable. No pokemon battles are allowed. If you steal, you will be prosecuted.

After skimming through the main points, you sign them and then send a copy to Jace to sign.

You’re meeting him at Wyndon at the agreed time and you’ve briefed him on the investigation. He is eager to accompany you and when you arrive, he hastily waves you over.

He insisted on matching outfits to make a statement, so here you are both dressed from head to toe in all manners of black clothing.

“Jace, thanks for doing this. What have you brought with you?” you ask, gawping at the black rucksack that’s hanging off his shoulders. He’s also got Joltik’s capsule stuck to his belt.

“Glad you asked!” he exclaims as he loops the bag off himself and unzips it after settling it on the ground. Jace reveals that he has packed a headlight, night vision and heat vision goggles, a tripod camera, heat detecting monocular, digital voice recorder and EMF recorder.

It's basically everything you don’t need and don’t use.

“At least take the headlight,” he moans when you tell him this.

“No thanks, I’m fine with my trusty torch. But you should definitely use those," you say, gesturing to all his equipment.

"Alright..." Jace pouts and packs his bag back up; he keeps his headlight on and EMF recorder in hand.

You’re supposed to meet Rose’s delegate at the ticketing booth, so you both head up the stairs, arriving at the main entrance where you and Leon stood a few hours ago in the daylight.

A security guard can be seen sitting in the booth along with a Clefki hanging from one of the hooks on the wall. You knock on the window and he looks up from his magazine.

“Oh, are you the pokemon researcher?”

“Yep, that’s me. And this is my assistant, Jace.”

“Hi.”

“Great,” says the security guard, “the more the merrier. Thanks for coming, I'll be your guide.”

“No problem.”

The security man leaves the booth along with Clefki before he grabs a flashlight from his pocket and switches it on. “Come with me.”

You and Jace trail after the man as he wanders to the front door with Clefki who promptly sticks one key inside and unlocks it.

The lights are switched off inside and you realise it’s worse when it’s dark, and as the man shuts the doors behind you, he beckons you to follow him once again.

“My name is Horace,” he says, “I called Ms. Oleana the other day and I didn’t think they would take me seriously, but it turns out I wasn’t the only one. The cleaners, the other security guards, they all came forth and said the same thing.”

“Which is what?” Jace asks.

“I’m pretty sure Mr Rose was warned, but there’s something evil in there,” Horace says with a slight shiver, and you’re aware that he is incredibly uncomfortable speaking about it, “He has a hell lotta old stuff and it’s all in there on display….I’m certain some of them are cursed or something so that’s where we need your help along with…uh, these guys.”

You see two young men standing at the visitor’s desk; the brunette is holding a camera whilst the blonde is tapping away on his phone.

“Rose wanted a second opinion so you’re not gonna be alone in this. He’s asked these guys for help too.”

You and Jace exchange incredulous glances before you settle your gazes on the two men. You weren’t aware of this arrangement at all.

The blonde has a tattoo of a Machamp on his neck and the brunette has a thick beard and bandanna. Both are donned in warm coats and they’re both carrying rucksacks that rattles noisily with equipment.

“Oh, if it isn't the Witch of Wedgehurst,” says Machamp-tattoo man as he looks up and eyes you head to toe. You spot a red and black checkered shirt underneath his coat and a gold necklace around his neck.

"The what?" you say, stunned.

"You know that's what people call you, right? I know who you are, I recognise you; you're the ghost-type researcher."

"Yes, but I've never heard people calling me the Witch-"

"Oh, well, you have now," he says, and as you do a double take he adds, “I’m Tanner. This is my camera man, Cole.”

“Hi,” says the bearded one, as he balances the large and hulking, black camera on one shoulder as though it weighs nothing.

“We’re the Ghostbunkers,” Tanner says with a grin.

“Ghost…bunkers??”

“Yeah, have you heard of us?” he asks, and you shake your head. His eyes bulges with disbelief. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“Um…”

“Okay, okay, to fill you in, we visit allegedly haunted places and debunk it, okay? Ghosts? No, it’s just a pokemon or something,” Tanner says, “Most of the time, it’s ninety-nine per cent nothing to do with ghosts at all.”

“So what about the remaining one per cent?” Jace asks, and it’s a perfectly logical question but Tanner merely laughs.

“Well, that’s not our forte.”

“Fair enough.”

Tanner’s focus averts to you. “Well, this is the first time I’ve had to collaborate with someone without being told,” he then grumbles sourly. “Cole, remind me to double Rose’s rate.”

“Got it, T.”

“Rose didn’t tell you guys that we were coming either?” you ask, brow raised and Tanner nods. Pondering to yourself, you slip in a quick and polite, “Please excuse us.”

Whilst Horace the security guard and the duo look at you with unamused looks, you and Jace hurry to a corner.

"Jace, people call me a 'witch' behind my back," you murmur. You have to admit; you're not too surprised about this. You already get called a kook, what else? “This can’t be happening. Have we been played?”

“What do you mean?” Jace whispers back.

“I thought we would be the only ones here,” you reply, “And these guys? The Ghostbunkers??? What the hell?”

“He said his name was Tanner, right? And his BFF is Cole…” Jace says, before he pulls out his phone and begins searching online. “Aha! Found them…”

You both huddle over Rotom’s tiny screen where Jace has found Tanner’s ‘Ghostbunkers’ website. It appears they are also from Galar. The brief description mentions he has ten years of extensive experience of the supernatural and hunting ghosts but he created this channel one year ago.

“Arceus, ten years. That’s more than me,” you croak out whilst Jace rolls his eyes, “and he has his own channel... he has a theme song. He even gets fanart.”

Next, you see dozens and dozens of comments from his fans, declaring their support and love for him and his work.

Your blog hardly has any views, you only have a sparse number of followers, you rarely get comments and you've never received fanart. Your face falls with gloom at this thought; your esteem has being whittled away into nothingness in an instant.

“So what?” Jace is quick to cheer you up, but you give him an exasperated look and continue to look at the information provided.

Tanner’s videos channel received fifty thousand views on average. His most popular upload is a video with one million views where he spent one entire night in Lavender Tower. The next most popular upload is a video where he traversed through the Old Chateau in Eterna Forest. He’s debunked a lot of allegedly haunted places all over the world, attributing it to ghost-type pokemon.

“You gotta be kidding…he’s a skeptic, which is the last thing we need,” you grunt under your breath. “Damn, I should’ve known. I had this weird feeling about Rose, like it was too good to be true. This isn’t surprising of him at all.”

“Now what do we do?”

“Well, we’re already here…let’s see this through.”

Jace gulps. “Okay.”

You return to the men and the security guard briefs you on the recent happenings but the dynamic duo decide to set the camera rolling and before Horace can say anything, the camera is focusing on you.

“Hey, do you mind if we collaborate?” Tanner asks.

“I don’t really collaborate…”

“Suit yourself then,” Tanner looks mildly displeased with the rejection. “Well, we’re going to be filming anyway. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No.”

“Great!” Turning to Cole, he says, “Let’s begin.”

“Got it,” Cole replies, and he fixes the camera appropriately, a little red light goes on. You assume it’s recording now.

Tanner clears his throat and tidies his hair before he puts on a huge grin. “Hello fellow debunkers!! And welcome back to my channel. How are ya? Tanner here tonight, with another exciting ghost-bunking mission!” Tanner exclaims, and you can’t help but inwardly groan as you watch him. “Tonight, we’ve been invited to an art gallery that’s rumored to be haunted. As usual, it’s just me and my best friend Cole – but we actually have a few guests with us today.”

On cue, Cole swiftly navigates the camera to focus on Horace who blinks blankly at the duo. “Oh, uh…hello, hi.”

“This is Horace. Horace, do you mind telling us what you do and can you share a few words about this place and what’s been going on?”

“Yeah, so… I’m one of the security guards here. Last night…maybe around two am, I was making rounds and I heard this weird banging noise on the wall, in there-“

He points to the doors behind you, where you’re supposed to be investigating.

Horace says, “I went in and checked the whole area but nobody was there. It didn’t stop, it just grew louder and louder and it moved, like it started at the end of the hall and it came closer to me. Then a chair flew across the room. Whatever it is, it’s mean and angry."

Tanner thanks Horace for the introduction and the information, the camera still rolling.

“Well, this is where I’m supposed to leave you guys.” Horace adds, “I’m the only one on watch duty tonight but I’m going to be outside so I don’t bother your investigation. You can reach me using this walkie talkie so keep this on you at all times so you can contact me,” he proceeds to hand you and Tanner each a small and sleek black device. “I’ve kept it tuned to mine but if you’re worried, the channel is eighty-two, got it?”

“Things just got interesting, folks.” Tanner says to the camera with a wink.

“I need to keep the building locked though because we don’t wanna let anyone else in, you know, in case of burglars…some of the stuff here is worth millions...so let me know when you want to leave and I’ll unlock the doors for you.”

With that, Horace wishes you luck and excuses himself and you watch him pad towards the entrance with Clefki, watching the light of his torch gradually disappear and you and Jace and the Ghostbunkers are standing in darkness.

Cole stops recording and Tanner finally drops his smile, turns to you and says, “Are you really an exorcist?”

“I’m not an exorcist,” you reply with a shake of your head.

“What with Bob the Builder?” Tanner gestures to Jace and his getup.

“Bob the-?! What?! I’m her assistant,” Jace barks, pointing to himself.

Tanner focuses on you again. “Are you some kind of spirit medium? A clairvoyant?”

“No, I’m just a ghost-type researcher.”

“Oh good, at least we’re on the same page,” Tanner says, “It’s most likely a pokemon that’s behind this, don’t you think?”

“It’s too early to say.”

Tanner sighs audibly under his breath, “Well, the art gallery is pretty big. Cole and I can take the left wing and you and your friendo can take the right wing. That means we can get things done quicker. How does that sound?”

You nod. “That sounds alright.”

“As long as you two don’t get in our way, we’re good,” Tanner replies; despite the words, he delivers them with a rather crooked smile.

You and Jace exchange brief looks before you begin to head to the direction of the two double doors that will leads to the right wing.

Meanwhile, Cole focuses the camera on Tanner who eagerly begins speaking to the camera, outlining his steps and what equipment he has tonight with great detail and vigor whilst you and Jace stop at the doors.

“I have a bad feeling about those guys,” you whisper as you switch on your flashlight and unfurl the map.

“If this place is really haunted, I hope the ghost grabs them first,” Jace murmurs under his breath.

"Ready?" you ask.

"Ready," he confirms.

You push open the door; it swings open with a low creak and slowly swings on its hinges. You shine your torches into the dark abyss of the art gallery, your gaze sweeping over the many displays. You will be here for the remainder of the night.

"Good luck!" Tanner yells, a fraction before you step inside, "You're gonna need it."

#leon #leon x reader #Leon x you #reader #reader insert #jeralee #comfort in despair #fanfic #fic #archive of our own #pkmn #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemon shield and sword #marydragneell

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

Empires on the Horizon IV

Jason is a CEO: Part IV

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

new beginnings

look fragile

like glass

but when grabbed

sparkle

like diamonds

-badpoetry

“Good morning Mr Grace,” Grover Underwood smiled from his usual spot behind the coffee machine.

“Morning, how are you?”

“Much happier for seeing you less like someone kicked your puppy,” He gave Jason a knowing look.

“How?”

“There are some things the brain cannot hide, matters of the heart are often one of them.”

He didn’t really have any reply to that, so he gave the man an awkward smile and shrugged.

“Your usual then?”

“Yes please, and an iced coffee for Hazel.”

“Ah where is the darling this morning?”

“She’s coming into the office later, something about needing to go home first? She must have stayed at a friend’s place.”

Grover raised a dark brow, “Mhmm and where is your driver this morning? I noticed you drove yourself in today.”

“Uh I think Frank took the day off,” He frowned trying to piece the conversation he’d had with his friend in his sleep-deprived brain.

“Oh interesting,” Grover’s chocolate brown eyes twinkled in amusement, but before Jason could question him a warm cup was being shoved into his hand and he was being ushered away to wait for the iced coffee.

Collapsing into a chair, he pushed his glasses up his nose and wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. Winter was beautiful but gods it was cold. He glanced around the café taking in the familiar forest green walls and dark wood floors. There was no sun streaming through the windows today so the gold accents on the tables were dulled and dark, like hidden bronze. He traced his fingers around the edge of his cup, losing himself in the motion, in the feeling of heat on his cold fingers, in the small gusts of wind against his cheeks as the door opened and closed, in the noise of a bustling store, in the–

“Hello Jason,”

“Luke,” He took a deep breath, “Fuck off.”

“Aw don’t be like that,” He sniggered.

“Please Luke, I don’t have the energy for this right now,” Exhaustion was a thousand-ton weight on his bones.

“That’s your problem Jason you never wanted to take things head on. It was always let’s wait for this, let’s get their opinion first, let’s just give it a couple weeks. You could have had the world begging at your fingertips if you just went for what you wanted.”

“Are you done?”

Luke’s responding laugh was malicious, “You are so-“

“Leave.” His voice was stone.

His ex-boyfriend scoffed, “Pathetic.”

Jason watched as the face he had been so in love with sneered at him, the scar running down a pale cheek twisting into malice. His soul ached for what could have been, it burned for what now was. It always surprised him how drained he felt after every interaction with Luke- like crashing down from a potent high. Being with Luke was a high, was euphoria and hope and sin. What the fuck went wrong?

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Talk to me,”

“Why do you insist on answering the phone like you’re some sort of mafia boss?” His sister grumbled.

“Hello to you too Thalia,”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve set you up on a date tonight. Six-thirty at Sun and Songs.”

He groaned, “No. I am not in the mood.”

“Jason Grace,” She started; he could feel a rant coming on, “You cannot stop living your life because you have a wanker of an ex-boyfriend. You have been in a slump since Luke and it is affecting you in ways you’re too scared to admit.”

“It is not affecting me,” He was tired of having this fight, “I literally dated Piper for like three months.”

“Mhm and were you happy? Did you put all you could into the relationship?” She didn’t wait for his response, “No, you may have been a little happier, but you weren’t you. So you will go on this date tonight and in five years when we’re planning your wedding you better be thanking me in your speech.”

“Gods Thals,” He snorted, “We haven’t even gone on the date yet and you’re already planning a wedding?”

“Wait does that mean you agree to it?” She squealed through the phone.

“Yes loser,” He held in a laugh, “I’ll go on the date. But if it doesn’t work out you drop all of this. No more setting me up, no more interfering.”

“Yes sir. Now, how work’s going?”

“Besides the fact that Project Hestia is on hold because of this stupid contract everything is good.”

“Isn’t your fancy lawyer lady sorting it out?” She muttered.

“Reyna is a great lawyer and you know it.”

“Yea but she’s also my ex-girlfriend so I get to be a little resentful.”

He snorted at that, “Of course, and how are you?”

“I’m good. The Conservatory is still standing so I can’t be doing too many things wrong.”

“Didn’t you guys get cheetah cubs this weekend?”

“Oh Jase!” His sister cried, “They are just the absolute cutest things. Did you know cheetahs are so shy that some conservationists and wild-life biologists recommend giving them emotional support puppies?”

“So what you guys got puppies and cubs?”

“We haven’t got the puppies yet; they’re only arriving this week.”

“Well send me pictures when they’re together, maybe I’ll have them framed and hung around the office as a morale booster.”

She laughed, the sound crackly through the speaker, “Will do little bro. Listen I have to go but call me tomorrow to tell me about the date.”

“Wait!” He yelled, ignoring the weird looks from the café patrons as he walked out, “What’s her name?”

“Zoe.”

***

Jason was nervous. That was the only explanation for his shaky hands and the zoo of creatures in his stomach. He had gotten to Suns and Songs fifteen minutes early with a lavender and daisy bouquet in hand. The restaurant his sister had reserved was nothing short of incredible. Dark maroon draped over each table, and opulent candelabras sat in the center, lit only if the table was occupied. Glass and crystal chandeliers swung slowly from the high wooden beams, catching on the light and making a kaleidoscope of the room. Even the way the air smelt was decadent here. Like wood smoke and perfume, some hint of chocolate, maybe. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wanted to bottle the scent and bathe himself in it. Trying not to be suspicious he took another deep breath in; it calmed his nerves if nothing else.

“Mr Grace?” someone put a soft hand on his shoulder, “Your guest,”

He thanked the waitress, getting up to greet his date and pull out her chair. He tried to muffle his gasp when he finally turned to her. She was stunning. Midnight skin contrasting elegantly with the pastel yellow dress she wore. Braids intertwined with glittering strands; it cast a pale silver halo around her head. Small hoop earrings glinted as she moved, and the bracelets at her wrist clinked gently when they shook hands.

“Hi, Jason Grace,” He smiled.

“Zoe Nightshade.” She flashed beautiful white teeth.

He handed her the flowers, “You look unbelievable.” He truly was in awe of her.

“Thank you,” Her smile was soft, but her voice was crisp and direct, “And these are gorgeous.”

“Would you like to order drinks?”

They scanned the menu quickly; Zoe ordered a cocktail he hadn’t heard of and he ordered the first thing he saw that didn’t have tequila in it.

“So,” He asked, and then cringed at himself internally. Starting any conversation with so was bound to make it awkward.

He cleared his throat, “How do you know Thalia?”

“We work together at the Conservatory. I moved here a couple months ago because I got transferred from the wildlife center in Germany.”

Jason didn’t know what but something about her voice made his insides melt. She said everything so undiplomatically– like if it wasn’t a fact it wasn’t worth uttering.

“Oh that’s cool. What do you do?”

“I’m a veterinarian. You?”

“Well I was a structural engineer but somehow over the years I got roped into being a town and regional planner.”

She frowned, tilting her head assessingly, “You did not finish your engineering degree?”

“Oh no I finished and got my masters in structural but then I started my company and I realised I needed other qualifications to run it the way I wanted to so I had to go back and get a degree in urban and regional planning. By the end I felt like I had been studying since the dawn of time.”

She laughed at that, and a look of surprise crossed her face, as if it was as unexpected to her as it was to him. “I know how you feel. I love animals and I’m passionate about my work but when I was done studying, I vowed never to go back. Studying for seven years after school and then trying to do it all over again feels like a one-way ticket to the end of the road.”

He mirrored her smile, “How did you get into veterinary sciences anyway?”

“My father was always busy, and my sisters were… interested in anything that could make them more beautiful, or richer. So I was pretty alone for most of my childhood. At some stage I convinced my father to get me a dog, Ladon. We were inseparable. But he got hurt when this man,“ She said it with such disgust he almost flinched. “This man hurt him. Kicked Little Ladon out the way when he was just trying to say hello. We had to take him to the vet, and I remember them being so sweet and kind to my dog and I knew I wanted to be exactly like that when I grew up.”

“Any chance you know where this man is so we can kick his ass?”

She laughed, raspy and bursting, “Don’t worry little eleven-year-old me kicked Mr Alcides as hard as I could in the shins.”

“Good,” he nodded with conviction, “He deserved more but you found your passion so there is some balance.”

She hid her grin behind a sip from her drink.

“Sir, ma’am,” Their waitress stepped to their table, “Would you like to order?”

Hours later, cheeks flushed from the liquor, laughing over Thalia’s antics and their shared need for structure, they finally decided to call the dinner to an end.

“The focaccia was to die for,” Zoe groaned, patting her stomach.

“Honestly, I may have to marry the pasta.” He sighed contentedly.

She giggled, and he knew it was a rare thing for her because her face caught that surprised look again.

“Want to grab dessert?”

“Oh gods no,” She shook her head in alarm, and then frowned as the realisation of what that meant washed through her.

“I had a really great time tonight,” He started softly.

“Do you want to walk to the park? We can stop and have gelato?” Her dark eyes were full of nervous hope.

He blinked at her, a little shocked she wanted to continue the date, “I thought you didn’t want dessert?” He teased.

“Maybe the walk will burn off some of these calories and i’ll have space for a little ice-cream.” She scunched her nose.

He knew the gelato was just an excuse, so with a grin that lit up his whole face he grabbed her hand and nodded, “Let’s do it Miss Nightshade.”

Her face glowed with relief and enthusiasm as they tucked their chairs in and exited the restaurant.

“Tell me about your family. How come you weren’t interested in the rich side of life like your sisters?”

“I guess being the youngest kind of made it all seem pointless. I had seen what happened when their vanity became malicious and I didn’t ever want to turn into something I couldn’t recognise. I went to stay with my Aunt Diana through high school. She owned a bird sanctuary. That’s where I interned in my college years.”

“Wow,” He looked down to her, awe evident in his face, “And it didn’t bother you to be so far away from your father and sisters?”

“Honestly, I’m not even sure they noticed when I left.” She shrugged, “It was a long time ago. I really only see them for family functions now.”

“And your aunt?”

“She still has the bird sanctuary, but she mostly works in the background now. My cousins, Bianca and Phoebe, run it full time.”

“Do you miss it? Were you guys close?”

“Much closer than my sisters and I. I do miss them, but I definitely can’t say I miss the sanctuary. Some of those birds were evil.”

Just then a loud squawk came from above them. She scowled at the sky, “I’m talking about you Auretta.”

He tried to hold in a laugh but Zoe stuck out her tongue childishly and they both bent over in laughter.

“Maybe we shouldn’t hurl insults while we’re out in the open.” He managed to gasp.

“Good thing the gelato shop is right there.” She grinned, grabbing his hand and sprinting towards the small, illuminated store at the end of the cobbled street. Her dress shimmered, moved like rays of light. She looked like a star.

“Come on,” She yelled, tugging at his hand harder.

‘Alright, alright,” He snapped out of his admiration and let her lead him into the shop.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

“Want to share?”

“Sure, you choose,” He waved a hand towards the abundance of flavours behind the glass.

“Please can we have one scoop of chocolate, one scoop of vanilla and,” Her brow furrowed as she scanned the tags, “And one scoop of cookie crumble.”

“Why did I think you were a sorbet girl?”

“Sorbet in the summer, anything else for the rest of the year.” She said matter of factly.

He nodded solemnly, “Yes makes sense.”

She swatted his arm, grabbing the cone from the lady with a thank you, “Gods I feel like a teenager again,”

“I know what you mean,” Her excitement was infectious.

“I have to ask,” She swallowed a chunk of cookie crumble, “What on earth were you thinking when you decided to eat a stapler?”

Jason groaned, “Why did Thalia tell you that? She swore she wouldn’t tell anyone and if asked I would say I fell off my bike or something.”

Zoe giggled, “Come on, spill.”

“Okay, first of all I was two,” He sighed, embarrassment heating his cheeks, “And it was shiny, and it made a cool clicking noise, and I wanted to know what it tasted like.”

“I can just picture a little Jason crawling onto the kitchen counter and trying to bite down on a stapler.” She teased.

“Yes well now I have this scar,” He pointed to his upper lip, rolling his eyes.

“Battle scars. Very worthy.”

He shoved at her shoulder lightly and they dissolved into laughter once more.

It was almost midnight by the time he had dropped her off at home and stepped into his apartment. He looked at his phone to see a couple work messages, and something from Hazel– things he could reply to in the morning he decided, tugging off his tie and discarding his clothes as he walked to his room. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, his phone still glaringly bright and open on the chat with his sister.

You were right. We’re going on a second date.

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

Grover is like some other worldy deity that spews life lessons every time they meet and i am so here for it! Anyway what y’all saying??? How are we feeling?

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leydiangelo

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

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archadianskies · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 30

Wound Reveal + Ignoring an Injury→ part 1; part 2; part 3

Whumptober Masterlist | 30/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Team as Family × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Hiding Medical Issues × Stabbing × Gun Violence × Gunshot wounds × Hurt/Comfort

It’s a full Anderson house. Well, it will be in about ten minutes or so. And ‘house’ isn’t quite right, given they aren’t indoors and even if they were it’s certainly not a house, but that’s how the saying goes so he’ll say it.

It’s a joint task force between the DPD Android Crimes Division, so that’s Dad Anderson and Big Bro Anderson onsite, and SWAT Unit 32 so he’s onsite, Middle Bro Anderson, and now the mission is wrapping up, CSI will be onsite soon, so that’s Baby Bro Anderson. Four Andersons. They’re just missing Dog Anderson.

“Where the fuck are they, it’s so fuckin’ cold I want to go home and pass out on my bed.” Detective Reed grumbles. Ah yes. There've been killings involving both androids and humans, so DPD Homicide squad are here meaning Detective Gavin Reed is here and Caleb’s patience is wearing thinner by the second.

“Icy conditions are making it hard for CSI to navigate their vans safely.” He informs him because if he doesn’t the man will continue complaining and he may outright murder him. “High body count means they need to bring multiple vehicles.”

“And all their fancy tech, right?” Reed groans. “God we’ll be here all night.”

“No fancy tech.” Caleb shrugs. “Just one RK900.”

“You’re here already.” He gestures vaguely at him. “Why don’t you go put that mouth of yours to use and save us some time?”

Rayner looks about ready to leap at Reed on his behalf which is touching, and of course their Captain is within earshot, a crease marring that handsome brow. Not to worry. Humans have instincts, have automatic reactions to certain situations. Like being handed something out of the blue.

“Sure. Here, hold this for a second?” Human vs 200lbs custom EMP resistant ballistics shield. Gavin meets ground. Rayner snortlaughs and their unwavering Captain, his captain o captain, wavers just a smidge, the corners of his mouth twitching up briefly.

“Oh, sorry Detective Reed.” Caleb reaches down to grab the shield, human still attached by way of instinctual pincer grasp, and returns both into an upright position. “Anyway though I too am an RK900, I do not have the proper qualifications to perform forensic investigations at crime scenes even if they are raids. Rest assured dear Frederick will get to work as soon as he arrives.”

“You little shit!” The human shrieks, voice an octave higher in outrage and Caleb steps away from him in favour of crossing the distance and nudging Connor with his elbow playfully.

“Hey.”

“I see you’ve had enough of Detective Reed for tonight.” Connor quips sagely and Caleb shrugs.

“Can’t believe you put up with him for so long.”

“Not by choice. Can’t exactly murder a fellow detective and keep my job at the same time.” Connor grins, and he laughs at the cheeky expression on his brother’s face. “It’s not so bad now we’re in different divisions. We overlap sometimes, but not all the time so the urge to murder is lesser now.”

“What do you make of all this?” Changing the subject, he tips his head in the direction of the semi-finished apartment complex, the base of operations for an elaborate crime syndicate that saw both android and human lives cut down for the sake of seizing power in the black market organ trade.

The raid had been a dangerous one, and though they didn’t suffer any casualties, a third of the team took severe hits and will need weeks of recovery time. The very nature of the building meant they couldn’t ambush them and having the separate floors meant the element of surprise was lost.

“I think our baby brother has a lot of work ahead of him.” Connor smirks before shaking his head, sighing tiredly. “As do Hank and I. There’s a lot of criminals to question. Reed’s team will handle the human criminals and his interrogation tactic is-”

“Bad, barely competent cop with anger management issues?”

“-sorely lacking in finesse, but we’ll go with that.” Connor looks him over, reaching out to thumb away a smudge of grime from his cheek. “At least you get to go home soon.”

“Soon-ish.” Caleb corrects, making a face. “Waiting for the last party to secure their floor before the Captain can declare the entire site is secure.”

“Still, you’ll be out of here long before dad and I can leave. And poor Freddie will be here long after we leave.”

“Gotta have an Anderson onsite.” Caleb laughs, leaning in to bump his brow against his brother’s fondly. “Okay. I better get going. I’ll see you on Saturday at our place?”

“I’ll bring the drinks.” Connor vows, waving as his brother takes his leave.

Watching Caleb return to his team, Connor idly watches their group dynamic and marvels at how his brother is the furthest thing from the cold, unfeeling killing machine CyberLife intended to release for the sole purpose of crushing the deviant revolution.

They didn’t count on the revolution succeeding. They didn’t count on having their arm twisted by the Kamskis, nor the mounting pressure placed on them by the public after public opinion soared in favour of the deviants given Joss Douglas’ live coverage of the Jericho Four’s final stand. Which meant they offered the RK900 to the DPD as an olive branch, smiling through gritted teeth as Connor deviated him on the spot and it wasn’t a killing machine being activated, it was a young brother who would become Caleb Anderson not long after.

It was a far harder road for their youngest brother, Caleb’s twin, Freddie. Over eight months, while Caleb had his family, had his team, had a growing relationship, Freddie had been treated as a piece of equipment by Special Agent Richard Perkins and his FBI SWAT team. He’s only now just coming into his own, finding his place in the Forensics team and settling into the Anderson family.

The CSI vans begin to pull up to the scene and soon the last Anderson brother is onsite. Freddie gives him a small wave and Connor finds himself smiling as he waves in return.

“Hello Connor.”

“Hello Freddie.” He greets, smile growing warmer as the other RK900 offers a grin he most certainly learned from Caleb. “You’re going to be very busy tonight unfortunately.”

“That’s alright. It is my job and I like doing it.” His brother reassures, eyes roving over the SWAT team at the entrance of the building. Caleb spots them and waves enthusiastically, and Connor laughs as Freddie returns it with the same enthusiasm. “The site has been declared secure, so they’ll be heading back to the station.” He relays what must be the short conversation they just shared. “And that means it is time for me to start working.”

“And time for dad and I to start processing criminals.” He sighs heavily. “Well Freddie, I’ll see you back at home. Hopefully sooner rather than later.” He adds, looping an arm around his brother’s waist and pulling him in for a quick hug.

“Okay Connor.” Freddie mumbles into his shoulder. “Say hello to dad for me?”

“Of course.”

It is a drastic change to go from the team storming the site to the team that arrives well after the action is over. He much prefers the latter to the former. He’s grown accustomed to the stillness, to the attention to detail this job requires rather than the chaos of raids, the incessant hail of bullets under Special Agent Perkins’ leadership. Or lack thereof. Caleb’s memories showed Captain Allen prefers a vastly, drastically different mode of leadership that sees him guiding a tight-knit team and playing to both individual and collective strengths.

Special Agent Perkins barely remembered the names of his own Agents, let alone cared enough to give Freddie one. It’s something he’s had to learn from his brothers; what transpired at his time with the FBI was not normal, it was cruel. His cruelty still lingers like bruises on human skin that take much longer to fade than for the injury to heal. But Freddie is learning, and though he has a long way to go at least he has family now and he has the Anderson name and he has the name Frederick which he chose all by himself.

The semi-finished apartment complex is the site of a massacre. Even before the raid, it seems the syndicate were trying to cut their losses and decided it was much easier to kill the workers, and thus prevent them from being questioned by the police. Even before the raid, even before the execution of the workers, the complex was already filled with bodies upon bodies; missing humans and missing androids, kidnapped and killed, then harvested for organs or biocomponents. Even if Freddie weren’t an RK900, he’d still be able to smell the dizzying scent of human blood, of android thirium, and of hospital grade disinfectants.

There’s too many bodies to be housed at the lab morgue so many will have to be diverted to the hospital morgues until they can process them. There’s no mystery to be solved here; it’s very clear how these victims died. The task at hand is processing each and every one so they can be identified and released for their kin to claim.

Freddie works at a steady pace, his superior commanding him to start at the top floor and work downwards. Most of the cleanup will need to be concentrated in the basement level where the workers were executed, but on the other hand the team will not need his input since the deaths are straightforward. The greatest task will be in trying to identify the parts and matching them to the bodies, ensuring the families will be able to claim their loved ones as whole as possible, and failing that, he will try his best to ensure there’s at least a name, a serial number, so they may be buried with or installed into memorial walls with dignity.

He takes the elevator and several body bags, and begins the task of retrieving corpses. Police auxiliary units patrol the now quiet floors when not too long ago SWAT Unit 32 would’ve been sweeping through. Arrests have been made, but the ratio of arrests vs corpses is highly skewed. No matter. He has faith in his brothers, in his father, and yes perhaps even Detective Reed.

The thing about android corpses versus human corpses is that it’s very easy to determine whether a human is dead or alive. For androids, there’s a certain nuance to determining whether an android is still active or deactivated. And the thing is, humans are still learning how to determine between those two. The android in question, splayed in a broken sprawl, riddled with bullets, is not actually deactivated.

Freddie learns as such, when he is crouched beside the human corpse adjacent to it, because the android sputters to life and the knife in its hand plunges right into his leg. His RK900 programming kicks in and he whirls around, grabbing the android’s wrist and using his other hand to yank the knife from his thigh. Too late does he see the gun in its other hand and it fires at his chest, narrowly missing both his hearts. Tossing the knife aside, he grabs the gun before the android can fire again, twisting so he breaks both wrists before thrusting a hand forward to yank the android’s pump regulator out. They collapse like a cut puppet, jerking and seizing for a few moments before falling still and now Freddie knows they are truly dead.

Police units rush into the room and he reassures them all is well, the android is properly deactivated. He has the pump regulator of the android to prove it. Swatting away the damage notifications to his thigh and chest, he continues with the long, laborious task of finding, bagging and logging each corpse. The thirium loss is steady but not fatal, so he keeps his head down and continues working.

He has completed missions in far worse conditions, and his brothers and father have both worked so very hard tonight that he feels he cannot let them down by allowing such pathetic injuries to hinder him. He is an RK900. In the FBI SWAT unit he was to keep going until he physically shut down, and he reasons that the same level of dedication is required of him here too. It is only fair, to give as much as they expect and he is far from shutting down over such trivial hindrances.

It is nearing midnight by the time everything is loaded up and ready to head back to the lab, and he can sense the immense fatigue laying heavy like a blanket over his human colleagues. There is still so much work to do.

“No.” Lenore says firmly, and he tips his head slightly in confusion. “You’re going to say ‘I can get a head start on these while you all go home to rest’ and the answer is no, Freddie, you absolutely are not going to do that.”

“But I-”

“No.” She repeats, firmer still. “We’re going to run the stuff that needs hours to process, you’re going to just put ID tags on the bodies and then everything goes into the freezers for tomorrow.”

There’s no room for argument, even if he does think he can accomplish much more but it would require him to stay there by himself and they never seem to want to allow him to do that. He is both grateful and confused. “...Understood.”

“Good.”

By the time Dr Olive declares everything is now at the mercy of the lab equipment and can wait until later, it is nearly two in the morning. Which is fine, since Freddie changed out of his damaged uniform upon arrival and applied dermal nano patches to cover the wounds to stem the bleeding. It could wait until he got home and had access to the first aid kit in the bathroom, since he was needed here at the lab to do actual work and not waste time tinkering on such small matters.

He hangs up his lab coat, thumb brushing over the embroidered ‘Dr. F. Anderson’ and finding himself smiling, as he does each time, because that is his name and it’s all his and no one else’s.

The lights are out, as expected, their father having gone to bed long ago but Connor is waiting there on the couch. He smiles brightly, standing and crossing the distance to envelope him in a hug.

“Didn’t think I’d see you until much later, actually.” Connor admits, and Freddie clings for a moment longer because it is a luxury he can afford.

“We processed what we could and are letting the machines run some tests until we come back later. The humans need their rest.”

“They do indeed.” His brother laughs. “Do you want to continue watching the space documentary we started?”

“Yes please.” Freddie nods. “Let me just change into pyjamas.”

He goes to the bathroom, pyjamas draped over one arm which he neatly hangs on the towel rack while he fetches the first aid kit. The nano patches have kept the bleeding at bay though he now has some mild internal bleeding since the blood had nowhere else to go. Negligible. He props his foot up on the bathtub so he can properly assess his thigh, peeling away the patch and beginning to gently ease the damaged wires together again at their rightful place. He’s just about done when Connor appears in the doorway.

“Freddie?”

“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t realise I was taking so long. I will not be much longer, though you can start without me and I can catch up.” He smiles reassuringly, but Connor only looks at him in distress.

“You’re hurt, how did this happen?” Connor comes to his side, peering at the wound before his eyes widen as he spots the larger one on his chest. “You were shot?”

“One of the androids was not actually deceased and managed to injure me before I deactivated him properly.” He holds out his hand to share the memory, and Connor’s distress only increases.

“Freddie why didn’t you tell anyone?” There’s something desperate in his tone, and he really doesn’t like it. It makes him feel like he’s done something wrong.

“I-I was, and still am fully functioning. It was not impor-”

“Of course it was! Of course it is! Anytime you’re hurt, it’s important!” Connor’s LED spins red and Freddie steps back, feeling his own stress levels rise. He’s done something wrong, he has, and it’s made Connor upset. “Freddie- Freddie, no, don’t- I’m not- I’m not angry with you, I’m just- you’re important, you know this, right? You’re important to me. To Caleb. To dad. To your whole forensics team who care so very much about you. When you’re hurt, that’s bad. That’s- that’s not something you brush aside until you’re alone. You don’t have to do this alone.”

His brother is upset and he thinks he understands now, and it’s because he loves him in a way no one at the FBI loved him, and when he’s hurt it upsets Connor because Connor doesn’t want him to be hurt. It’s a revelation to him, and it must show on his face because Connor draws him close and hugs him again, mindful of the chest wound as he presses closely.

“Okay, Connor.” He murmurs into his brother’s shoulder, nuzzling the soft fabric. “I’ll ask for help next time it happens.”

Connor inspects his chest wound, LED still red as he shakes his head. “We can’t repair this one, not even together. It would require-”

“I’ve repaired gunshot wounds by myself before.” Freddie blinks, tipping his head slightly. “I was only repaired by the technician if I lost consciousness from multiple injuries.”

He’s done it again. He’s said something wrong, only now he recognises it’s not wrong so much as distressing because it’s something bad, and he has lived his life believing bad things were normal things and is now trying to unlearn such beliefs.

“I can do it,” Freddie says slowly, “but I would appreciate it very much if you could help me, please? I can instruct you how. It will be easier with someone helping me.”

It is easier, and faster too, to have someone helping with the repair process. Everything has been set back in its right place, and his self-repair program will kick in and mend the rest. He drinks two full bottles of thirium to replace his bloodloss and by then it doesn’t seem like Connor is interested in watching the documentary at all.

He is staring anxiously at the door, and Freddie doesn’t know why because it is nearing three in the morning now and no one else should be coming. But someone does come, in fact, because the door is unlocked by the only other person who should have a key and there’s Caleb with a worried look on his face, and Freddie realises Connor must have been talking to him the whole time, keeping him updated with what was happening.

“They said the top floor was clear.” Caleb looks pained. “They said it was clear. That’s why David said the site was secure.”

“Your colleagues who cleared the floor are human.” Freddie points out, as Caleb rushes to him and gathers him up into a tight hug. “They did not realise one of the androids was still active.”

“That’s on us, Freddie.”

“It’s not.” He says, trying to be as stern as possible. “And it’s fine. I handled it.”

“You didn’t, you just kept going until you got home and tried to fix everything yourself!” Caleb is scolding him, but he’s doing it in his Caleb way where his voice is mad but his eyes are worried. Freddie feels a tightness in his chest that has nothing to do with his injury.

“I’m trying to learn that when things hurt, I need to ask for help.” He confesses quietly. “I wasn’t allowed to ask for help back then. I either fixed it myself, or I had to be incapacitated, before I was given help.”

“I’ll kill him.” Caleb vows, slight static in his voice as he holds him close. “I’ll do it slowly, so he suffers.”

“Just…” Freddie presses his lips into a tight line, trying to find the right words. “Just help me learn how to undo all he did, please?”

“Of course.” His twin presses a kiss to his temple and finally he feels his stress levels begin to drop. “Of course we will, Freddie.”

*~*

Hank’s not sure if Freddie even came home last night, what with the huge mess forensics were left with after they went back to the station to start processing all the arrests. He expects to see Connor pottering around, making tearium for himself and a coffee for him. Kitchen is empty at this hour. Huh. Curiously padding into the living room he finds that empty too, and so he wanders back down the hallway and to Connor’s room. The door is slightly ajar, most likely left open for Sumo. He finds not one, not two, but three androids still fast asleep, with the Saint Bernard sprawled at the end of the bed.

Leaning against the doorway, Hank just watches them for a few moments, heart squeezing at the sight of Freddie in the middle bracketed by his brothers who each have an arm tucked around him protectively.

Fishing out his phone from his pocket, he snaps a quick photo and quietly retreats back to the kitchen. No harm in letting them sleep in a little longer, they all could use the extra rest.

#rk900 #connor rk800 #hank anderson #gavin reed #detroit: become human #whumptober #annie writes: dbh #the end is in sight

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eternalcantarella · 4 years

Text

Entropy - Chapter 2: Horseman of The Apocalypse - Joker/Reader

Entropy

Summary: We all seek for some measure of uncertainty. Working against the mob is a dangerous game, you might as well be signing a death warrant. You would think it was all by a stroke of chance, the multiple run-ins with Gotham’s Jester of Genocide. When crooks begin to make more sense than do-gooders ― that’s anarchy. He’s no ordinary crook, however. And he’s still wrong. At least that’s what you'd like to tell yourself.

Word count: 17.9k

A/N: Medical specifics - I know the rod of asclepius is more for professional healthcare usage and caduceus is for commercial usage, but I chose to use a hybridisation of both asclepius and caduceus rods instead because its symbolism was slightly more in line with what I want to portray. Sorry for the inconsistency with practical usage! This chapter took me a while to write, and I didn't expect it to turn out this long. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it!

Inspirations: Trafalgar Law’s speech on the new era (One Piece), Amaya & Aiko no Akatsuki's Deisaku writing - Pinky Bruiser (Deisaku fans should totally check this out), Town of Salem's Plaguebearer role.

Available to read on AO3! Check my blog description for link to my AO3.

###

He sat in the long corridor, his legs crossed. His posture was laid back, with his tablet propped up on his lap. He tried to get used to the stiff teal plastic seat, secured to the wall behind him, but it was extremely uncomfortable and he kept readjusting his position. He tried to distract himself with the forthcoming plans for the week ahead with Gotham Press Holdings, refreshing his email to check for updates from his superiors. Unfortunately, he could not find the urge to open those mails. He leaned forward in his seat, his hand instinctively searching for the familiar spot on his chin.

The thin and bitter smell of antiseptic and cleaning products was invasive, acrid and stinging as it caused him to look away and stare at his other hand, twisting and knotting it as if doing so would hold back the unrest threatening to break within him. A man was whisked on a hospital bed right past him down the narrow corridor, and he was greeted with the disturbance of coughing, hacking and wheezing in the Emergency Department waiting room. He found the closest antibacterial hand dispenser, which was fortunately right beside him, and started working it like a gambling addict hitting up a VLT machine.

In a disorienting ambulance ride earlier, claustrophobia had closed in on him. He stood hovering over the stretcher, trying to rationally articulate the details surrounding your predicament, trying to discard feelings of his rising worries for you. However, with every bump the ambulance made, his unease peaked higher. As expected, the paramedics had briefed him that prompt delivery to the Emergency Department should be a priority, and had administered their prehospital care procedure onto you.

While otherwise appearing to be asymptomatic, the fact that you lost consciousness was alarming. They had secured the airway as required, delivering high-flow oxygen by cupping a respirator mask over your face, obtaining IV access simultaneously. There was a tenseness to his muscles, his head a violent whirl of confusion, trying to organise the newly found chaos in his life. They had also administered a beta-antagonist as a nebulised treatment for bronchoconstriction, a paramedic explained to him as she spritzed short bursts of liquid spray up your nostrils.

And here he was, waiting. A suspense ate at him internally while he awaited the ED doctor’s examination results.

While he was willing himself to check on instructions from Gotham Press Holdings, his hands betrayed his line of thought, and he instead found himself looking through his archived emails. His eyes glossed over the subject title.

‘Application for Blake Accounting Consultancy - Junior Data Analyst Applicant; Resume Included’

He crinkled his eye, his lips stretching against his index finger resting against it. He always found himself unknowingly going back to this fateful letter, at different, random times with no real reason connecting them with each other. He didn’t like to express it, both visually and verbally, to you that he had come to care for you deeply. And he was wondering if he was regretting ever holding back and hiding his actions to show that care. With the current uncertainty, and your life at stake, it’s always easy to see in hindsight that there were many things he could do differently. He clicked onto the email he archived, going through the motions that took him back to simpler and more pleasant times. He indulged himself in the light breeze of familiarity and nostalgia. He would always have a sentimental longing and affection for the past, especially when it came to you.

He remembered looking at your application and how absurd he thought it was at first glance. He vaguely recalled the contents of his job listing on Craigslist, having clearly stated that a bachelor’s degree in Computing or Data related fields was a prerequisite and lowest qualification one must have at the very least. Yet your highest form of education was trade school and coding bootcamps.

This was almost ludicrous in his eyes, that he found it to be amusing. He was about to dismiss your application to sift through the others, without even looking at your resume. However he felt compelled to click on it, probably out of some sick sense of curiosity and humour, he supposed. He wanted to see what laughs or kicks he could get out of this.

A condescending sense of jest bubbled in his chest when he started reading it. Perhaps this was just a joke applicant, he thought. Well, humour me. However, he found that the more he read into it, the more his smile started to falter. Being a data analyst requires very specific skills. You had recorded a very all-encompassing list of individual qualifications from courses painstakingly taken and they were all relevant to the job scope. Technical, analytical, math and creative skills. This was impressive for a non-uni graduate. You had also taken the initiative to contribute to opensource projects, demonstrating a fire and drive for the role. Not to mention the attention to detail and the amount of work put into organising this resume, to frame and market yourself in the best way possible. You had done a lot of research into this, evidently.

From this, he could sense that being a data analyst was something you wanted to be strongly at this point in time. And while strongly wanting to be one is often not enough for a data analyst, you had the puzzle pieces arranged and chops to back it up. Perhaps what sealed the deal to offer you an interview over coffee was the thing that set you apart from other applicants. Other candidates wrote about what they wanted from this job. No one cares what they want. No one cares that they want to “leverage their skills working with a highly effective team”. Yours was focused solely on the employer’s benefit, rather than for personal gain. And one thing in particular had caught his eyes to show you were perhaps a best fit for the company.

‘To build an ethical and positive culture for the company from the ground up and inspire change in Gotham.’

Given the current legal and political climate in Gotham, especially with the battles between parties of power going on, no one would care to write statements like this. No one even knew if they were submitting applications to companies deep within the mob, entrenched in corruption, or held hostage after having had debts to repay them. The mob had an iron grip on affairs at every nook and cranny of Gotham City. These types of statements were too fluffy, too idealistic, and often were not considered on job offers. However, things were changing. In a world where caped and masked vigilantes were jumping off roofs and Falcone was locked up in Arkham, he had hope. Politics were becoming more transparent, as candidates like Harvey Dent stepped up to the plate. And he would stop at nothing to make the most of this hope for a better Gotham. He had to believe in a better Gotham. He clenched his wrists and swallowed. He wanted to realise this idealistic vision he had.

“This mask for the anger I’ve been hiding… It’s not enough.”

“Then channel that anger to something good, I dunno. Frankly speaking, it’s not that hard.”

You two were sitting around a mahogany coffee table, with two plush sofas clad in burgundy fabric offering you two the luxury of sinking back into the comfort of its softness. However, you two were on the edge of your seats, not allowing yourselves to be lulled into its false sense of security and let your guards down. Your eyes were trained on each other, the air electrifying. You took a sip from the mug of your macchiato, eyes never leaving his as you tilted your coffee mug. You looked at him through your lashes, hiding behind a coy smile. Intrigued by your boldness, he quirked a brow in amusement. He sighed and pushed his laptop away from him on the table, finding no real need for it.

“Charming. If you’re so impressive, why don’t you tell me why you hadn’t attempted college?”

This definitely did not feel like a job interview. He leaned back, arms folded, a smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was challenging you. You sure as hell weren’t one to back down.

“Well, maybe it’s because some of us aren’t so lucky to have our parents afford our college fees, just so we can chase our dreams.”

In a saccharine voice, you leaned forward, tilting your head, no longer smiling. Your lips showed the hints of a pout. John Blake stared at you, slightly confused for a moment. Was this a personal attack or something?

“That’s very valiant of you. However, Miss, if I had to remind you of something,”

He maintained his composure, leaning forward with a slight tension in his jaw, his smirk not falling.

“You don’t know the first thing about me, darling.”

You remained neutral, staying in the same position.

“Well, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He had been the one to poke you first, you thought, slightly indignant. You bit your lip and spoke again, treading dangerously.

“If I had to take a guess, I would say you feel threatened by me.”

John Blake raised his brows at you, possibly in disbelief at your brazenness. He lightly clenched through his teeth. Were you perhaps right?

“Far from it, kid.”

You glared at him for this obvious condescension. If you were anyone else, the blatant disrespect you showed him earlier would have immediately gotten you rejected. But the chemistry between you two was palpable, even then. His eyes looked at the laptop in front of him. His eyes avoided yours. He looked away, and nonchalantly he asked you.

“Don’t you think it’s impossible to really foster an ethical company in Gotham? I mean, it’s a pretty corrupt city.”

He stirred his coffee to feign apathy. This question wasn’t important to him. You furrowed your brows and shook your head, your voice raising in tone. You felt your indignancy rise. Affronted and outraged. What kind of question is this…?

“What? Gotham is full of people ready to believe in good and compassion.”

You had his attention now. And he stared at you, his eyes hard.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s pretty naive of you?”

“You can say that all you want about me. I don’t gain much from being an idealist, but I have to do the best I can.”

Your voice softened towards the end. This was perhaps the first time you allowed yourself to be vulnerable in this… “Interview”. The man in front of you shifted his weight in his chair and stood up. This prompted you to stand up as well, befuddled and just mindlessly mirroring his body language.

Satisfied with his find, he stared down his nose at you with an unreadable expression. He stuck his hand out towards you.

“Well then kid, I believe we have a deal.”

Dumbfounded, you took his hand hesitantly, and he gave your hand a firm squeeze, bobbing it lightly in the process. Your jaw was slightly ajar and you were confused. After all that, you were in a state of doubt. Did you really just pass this… interview?

“Check your email for updates.”

He picked up his coffee, downed the rest of it and held his cup up towards you, a last gesture signifying his leave. He set it down against the table with a clink and left swiftly with his laptop.

You will become my weapon. My tool. You will fight for me, and in exchange, I will ensure that you realise your vision, and sate your burning desires.

He smirked. A diamond in the rough indeed.

He was stirred out of his daze when he heard the sound of the sliding doors of the emergency ward. It revealed a doctor dressed in blue short-sleeved scrub top and pants, with a white lab coat. She held a clipboard and wore a surgical mask. The mask could not hide the sunkenness in her eyes, fatigued from being overworked during her residency. Blake stood up immediately seeing her, desperate to know the outcome of your medical evaluation.

“Sir, I’ll cut to the chase. She will have to remain under our observation for the next forty-eight hours, and we will periodically image her with serial chest radiographs.”

Taking a moment to take this news in, he nodded, signalling for the doctor to continue.

“We seek your understanding, patients may develop significant signs and symptoms for as long as thirty-six hours after exposure. We checked for burns in the nasal cavity and tested for particles.”

She sighed and stared at her clipboard, shifting her weight onto her other foot. Her tennis shoes squeaked.

“Burning was spotted, but minimal. Her airway functions are still relatively stable. Our test results revealed in her system a complex of zinc chloride and the fear gas toxin compound found in our water supply months back.”

“I understand. Her condition is stable enough and she will recover, right?”

He looked her in the eye, searching for any signs that would betray her jaded features.

“I’m afraid nothing in this world is certain, sir.”

Her voice was somber. His brows knitted. What was that supposed to mean? Realising what she uttered out, she quickly switched her expression to mask what she just said, to a more amicable one for professionalism.

“But of course, nothing is likely to happen to her. We have databases storing synthesised antidotes and counteragents to the compounds we found.”

He sank, his muscles losing their tension as he deflated. At least there was some solace in this situation.

“You can check back around the same time after two days, if you’d like. She will be placed under our care til then.”

He nodded and took that as a sign to take his leave. He grabbed the laptops from the seats and gave himself another couple of pumps of hand sanitiser solution. He sighed and felt the tension in his forehead subside a little. You always had to cause trouble for everyone involved, didn’t you? He turned his head and looked at you through the glass panes, lying unconscious on a hospital bed. He gave a snort and didn’t slow down his pace.

Luckily for you, you had someone who didn’t find you to be more trouble than you were worth.

###

He found the darkness strange. In the heart of Gotham city, he had grown used to having the warm, yellow-orange glow of streetlamps outside his window, light filtering in through the gaps in the curtains and seeing them whenever he walked down the street. It felt safe. Come to think of it, it was a privilege. When he took a first drive through the Narrows, there were no such safety blankets in the form of regularly spaced streetlamps. He continued staring up at the Bat-Signal, its rays projected an emblem.

It was shrouded in darkness. Gotham City is a bustling, urban metropolis. The signal was alone in the night sky, not a single star there to accompany it. Light pollution makes us unable to see stars in big cities. The bat was cursed to be alone in the dark. It was the only way he could exist, anyway. After all, most sightings of him caught on tape were filmed around the Narrows.

He combed a hand through his honey blond hair, while the balmy breeze smeared against his face. He heard footsteps. Immediately, he whipped his form around, hands affixed tightly on his hips.

“You’re a hard man to reach.”

He walked forward, trying to seem cordial, as much as he could be. His posture was strained, however, his neck craned forward from waiting too long. He walked forward, closer to the figure and swung one arm loose, by his side. He sized him up. This was the first time he had seen him up close, and he simply remained silent. They regarded each other for a cold moment. He couldn’t expect much from him, even a response would be too much, not without Gordon around.

He almost blended in with the darkness. His suit mirrored the plated armour of specialised jousters, but with a much more modern and practical design. He looked rigid and reminded him of a man from medieval times, a mounted warrior with ideals of chivalry and a code of conduct befitting for a nobleman. The difference was, he did not work with the state, and was in no way a perfect courtly Christian warrior.

I believe in Harvey Dent. People needed to believe in something, just as he believed in the Batman.

His presence, despite being mostly subdued and shadowed, did invoke a bearing to be idolised. If he weren’t Gotham’s District Attorney or the up-and-coming choice political candidate, he might have even been star-struck and giddy-headed at the sight of him. He scoffed at this. They were of the same standing in the city of Gotham, on equal footing, and they both knew it. He could feel it in his stare.

They waited.

The jarring sound of the door clicking open broke the uncomfortable silence. He studied Gordon, who looked just as miffed as he did. He tried to get Gordon’s attention.

“Lau’s halfway to Hong Kong.”

Gordon ignored him, storming forward to switch off the Bat-Signal. This rubbed Harvey Dent the wrong way. He was a little vexed.

“You’d asked. I could’ve taken his passport―I told you to keep me in the loop.”

Gordon was aggravated by his unpleasant overbearing insistence on being involved in the Gotham City Police Department’s investigations. He raised his voice.

“All that was left in the vaults were marked bills. They knew we were coming, as soon as your office got involved-”

Gordon was motioning with his hand. He waved it around temperamentally, emotion clearly clouding his judgement and choice of words. Dent felt his blood pressure rise and he definitely would not stand for these accusations against his team. He felt a vein jutting in his neck, tensing as he matched his voice level to reach Gordon’s.

“My office? You’re sitting there with scum like Wuertz and Ramirez and you’re talking-”

He jammed a strained finger at the ground as he stressed his words. He paused for a moment. Realisation in a recent finding gave him the upperhand. He sneered. This was turning into a full-blown argument.

“Oh yeah Gordon. I almost had your rookie cold on a racketeering beat.”

He jabbed more accusatory fingers directed at Gordon. God forbid his argumentative habits from the high court show through now. This was making things a lot worse.

“Don’t try and cloud the fact that clearly Maroni’s got people in your office, Dent.”

Gordon’s statement was final and harsh. They stared each other down. This was going nowhere. The night breeze blew against them. The Bat was silent. Quietly, he stood and analysed whether he could really trust both of these men to solve crime in Gotham together. The wariness and doubt was palpable. What makes them think they could make him trust them, when they couldn’t even trust each other?

Dent didn’t know how to respond to this. He went silent. He couldn’t dispute or disprove this. The Maronis’ got their reigns deep within all walks of this city.

Gordon sighed, giving up. If they couldn’t have transparency at this point, they could forget about asking for Batman’s help. He would not accept this if they were to only hinder his goal. It was embarrassing, to say the least. They would only appear to be a joke to the man. He had to relent, for starters.

“We couldn’t detain him. He has too much power. We can’t conclusively accuse Lau at this point, and we were denied prior warrants on him. We have no data on him aside from pure speculation.”

Looking down, Gordon bit on his bottom lip, his facial hair caught between his lip. He tugged at his pocket with exaggerated movements, looking like a jovial dad who thrived on telling dad jokes, pulling out a scrap of notes. He skimmed through it. Harvey Dent’s hands were still on his hips, gripping at his hipbone. He turned to look at the man in the dark suit.

The three of them stood in formation, on the rooftop of the Major Crimes Unit, circling each other. They formed the three pillars of justice in Gotham. All unyielding in their beliefs of their methods of crime fighting, and their ideals. Coming to a compromise seemed near impossible moments ago.

“We need Lau back. The Chinese won’t extradite a national under any circumstances. Not that we even have the right documents to prove his involvement with the mob.”

Batman took this chance to respond, for the first time.

“I have no jurisdiction. I believe I personally have enough proof to track that rat down.”

Harvey Dent raised his brows a fraction. The gall of him to talk about legal power or authority having no control over him, right in front of the DA no less. If he didn’t know better, he would say he was boasting about operating outside the law. Even if he was a vigilante, that was a bold statement. He liked that.

“If I get him to you, can you get him to talk?”

Batman’s voice was deep and raspy. Dent did not expect his voice to be like this. The corner of his mouths tugged a bit. This was his area of expertise.

“I’ll get him to sing.”

Nodding for further assertion and poise in confidence, he said so knowingly. Gordon unfolded the scrap of notes handed to him by his officers. They had brute-forced their way into the systems of the recent bank heist at Gotham National Bank. Apparently, they had digital tracks of code and graphs as potential sources of evidence for this case from a foreign system. The department, however, was not specialised enough to interpret this data definitively.

“The GCPD only recently uncovered leads to prove Lau’s dirty work in the mob, but I suppose it’s better late than never.”

This caught Harvey Dent’s attention. He signalled for him to elaborate.

“We traced the source to be devices registered under the Blake Accounting Consultancy company.”

Bringing a finger to his lip, Dent bit against it lightly. He pondered

“We can do this concurrently while Batman forcefully extradites Lau. We need to do this fast, however. Set up an interrogation with this company, as soon as possible.”

Dent and Gordon looked at each other. For once, they saw each other eye to eye. Gordon took in a deep breath, and nodded, this time with a lot less hesitation than before. The Bat looked at them, his focus flitting between the two, and pressed his lips together. Maybe there was hope in this after all.

“We’re going after the mob’s life savings, things will get ugly.”

Gordon inclined his head, indicating the urgency of this harsh truth. Gordon gave Dent a hard stare, a direct warning to the man. A pretty-boy working high up in the office, who had never gotten his hands dirty like that in the life of a city cop. He had to know what was in store for him, and Gordon wanted to see if he really was all that serious about this, rather than being purely concerned with racking political points.

“I knew the risk when I took this job, lieutenant.”

Harvey Dent leaned back, seeming a tad bit offended by his warning. As if he didn’t know already. Hell, someone had even pulled a gun on him in the courtroom. In Rachel’s words, as Gotham’s DA, if you’re not getting shot at, you’re not doing your job right. He decided to let it go.

“How are you getting back in-”

He directed his attention back onto Batman. He vanished into thin air. Dent was at a loss for words. How dysfunctional this agreement between the three of them seemed. He dared Gordon to give him an explanation. Do I really want to know, he scoffed. Gordon cocked his head derisively, a wry smile in place.

“He does that.”

Pretty crude sense of humour, even for someone flying from building to building with a cape. He relaxed his upper body, hands still on his hips. He looked at the ground. He gave an audible groan. He was going to need a cold shower after all this―This absolutely baffling and absurd confrontation. It almost seemed comical. Well, he couldn’t complain. After all, he did ask for it.

###

It had been a while since you’ve woken up from your blackout. You could only see darkness.

Distant static noises from the television muffled in and out through your ears. When you cracked open your eyes, they still felt raw and fluttered back shut repeatedly from your drugged up state. You had no idea where you were.

“-according to eyewitnesses, each man wore a clown mask.”

You gripped the bed sheets. This news was… unsettlingly familiar. You felt a mild stinging pain on top of your hand with the restricted movement. It felt like plastic taped against your hand.

“-used grenades to intimidate the hostages into submission.”

Suddenly everything came flooding back, the feeling of fear re-imagined. You tore your eyes which were sealed shut open. You remembered the clowns. And the clown beneath the clown mask. And the sight of a live grenade beside you. You stared up at the ceiling wide-eyed, the whirring sound of a ventilator a droning hum beside your ear. You reached up to your face and touched the plastic sterile respirator cupping over your nose and mouth.

Oh. You were in a hospital. It took a while for you to register this.

You looked at the television and saw Gotham Tonight News. Your thoughts immediately shifted to John Blake. He had saved your life. Your eyes desperately searched the room, darting around all corners. You only saw other patients as you were in a public ward, and in your movement you unknowingly hit a button on your hospital bed with your elbow. Distant beeping noises of machines could be heard, with the occasional coughing and hacking. The feeling of grogginess was slowly subsiding. You heard footsteps coming.

In your silent hope, you half-expected it to be John Blake. But much to your dismay, it was a doctor. She held a clipboard and wore a mask that was tucked under her chin, and a white clinical lab coat. She offered you a warm, hospitable smile, despite the tiredness that dragged down her sunken eyes.

“Miss, I see you have woken up. We can let you rest for a while before we discharge you, you slept for longer than we have expected.”

Longer than they had expected? How long were you out? You needed answers. You resisted and slowly tried to sit up. You gestured towards your respirator and flailed your hand around slightly. She seemed to understand you.

“Ah, I understand. Eager to get out?”

She continued smiling tiredly. She dislodged the mask from behind your head and took it off your face. You felt a drastic change in pressure as you tried to adjust to the current atmosphere, taking even deeper breaths and sputtering slightly. You suddenly felt breathless. She let you take a while to get used to this before working on the tube that went up your nose and down your throat. She pulled it straight from your nose, much to your horror, and you felt the friction of it sliding against your pharynx. You could have sworn you felt blood trickling down your throat. Excruciatingly, you let out a prolonged sob the more she pulled onto it. When she was done, you panted, using the back of a hand to wipe against the saliva that dribbled around your mouth.

She took your other hand in hers and tore off the IV access, effortlessly and with little pain around that area. You stared at her behind tearful eyes. Nurses and doctors were so amicable yet did actions like this with that much intention and precision. It was daring, courageous and you guessed it took a lot for them to not be squeamish. You licked your chapped lips and proceeded to thank her.

You looked at the golden badge pinned on her breast pocket. It was the Caduceus symbol. The omnipotent Staff of Hermes. A staff once carried by Hermes in Greek mythology, slender and splendid, entwined by a serpent coiling around the body of the staff in a downward spiral. The wand of healing. It was beautiful, magnificent, if not a bit eerie and otherworldly. You sucked in a breath. You were lost in thought. Must we really fall prey to the deceptive trickster of Eden in order to achieve greatness? Medicine is a holy tome, the all-encompassing, for the most glorious knowledge in the world.

Break the rules.

To achieve greatness, you must know the truth, and to know the truth, you must take the forbidden fruit for the knowledge of all things good and evil.

And that means walking away from the lies you were told your whole life.

Your eyes glazed over, starry-eyed over the dreams of a past life. You stared at the healthcare worker with eyes of green.

No, that dream simply isn’t possible.

Disillusionment tore at your eyes. No, it really wasn’t.

She returned you your set of clothes from before and you changed out of the hospital gown. You were given a brief rundown of your condition, as well as pictures and radiographs of chest scans. You had suffered minor burns down your air passages and suffered from acute zinc chloride and fear gas poisoning, but the counter-agents had already been administered. Luckily for you, the actions taken against the fear gas were swift and that prevented long-term effects from creeping into your system. You would hate to be plagued with images of that darned clown for life. Soon, you found yourself at the counter, ready to be discharged. You groaned inwardly at the hospital bills this stay would rack up. You would experience mild discomfort and difficulty breathing for a while, but it wouldn’t be anything serious. You guessed that you really did owe Blake one for this time.

Speaking of whom, you would have expected him to at least pay you a visit this one time, seeing as it was in fact a weekend. If you hadn’t gone through that terror that previous day, you would have felt a petty disappointment in him, for you felt that you were important enough for him to do that much for you. But this time, you felt a bit worried. You chewed at your cracked lips, hoping that nothing bad had happened to him while you were out.

You signed the relevant documents and walked towards the entrance, ready to head out when you suddenly saw a head of familiar, clean cut chestnut hair walking towards you. He wore a navy suit with a cool-toned pink tie. You felt a warmth bubble inside of you when you smiled at him. Boy were you glad to see him, and he had made it to visit you after all. You were about to reach out to him and say something, but he stopped you in your tracks only to turn you around and walk you in the same direction as him.

“Hey kid, glad to see you’re out and all, but we have no time right now. You’ll understand when we get there.”

His jaw had a greater tension to it than it did normally, and his dark features were serious and silent. He didn’t really have a smile gracing his lips, but his eyes showed a hint of relief seeing you well and recovered. You were confused by this and felt a slight dejection constricting at your chest. What was with him and wouldn’t he be happy seeing you? You furrowed your brows for a moment and avoided his gaze. He handed you your laptop he stowed hastily by thrusting it into your hands. You fumbled with it and nearly dropped it. You felt your blood boil slowly, you thought to yourself, oh no you’d better not expect me to work overtime like this. You stopped in your tracks.

“Hey―You really think I’m going to work for you at this hour, under these circumstances? You’re out of your mind.”

He simply continued walking, not slowing down his pace. He only turned his head behind indifferently, regarding you coldly, then returned his gaze in front of him.

“You’re not working for me today.”

Your jaw agape, you stared at his back that was getting smaller by the second, incredulous. You’ve had it with this caginess, he was tight-lipped. Why couldn’t he just tell you anything at all? You pulled at your hair and ran ahead to catch up with him, the heels of your pumps clacking against the hospital floor. At this, you felt a fiery burst pulsating down your throat and windpipe. You ran out of oxygen very quickly and sputtered for more, the friction of air against the burn marks up your nostrils raked mercilessly through your nerves. It was obvious you couldn’t do much physically for a while. Your footsteps slowed down, but Blake’s did not. You guys had perfect communication most of the time and today was one of the rare times you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You pleaded again, between agonising hacks, clearly vexxed.

“Could you... at LEAST tell me what’s going on-”

He stopped suddenly, at the west-wing entrance of Gotham General Hospital. You caught up to him, about to lose your mind at him. You gawked, your gaze landing on the sight in front of him. Your brain stutters for a moment and your eyes seem to betray you. To say that you were shocked was an understatement. You wanted to turn to Blake to confirm that you were indeed working for these people, but you couldn’t find it in you. There stood two of the most authoritative men in Gotham, hands on their hips, feet tapping impatiently. They weren’t facing each other. The vibe felt a little off. Gotham’s White Knight, Harvey Dent, and Lieutenant James Gordon.

“This is your Junior Data Analyst, Consultant Blake? I hope you had a speedy recovery, Miss.”

Jim Gordon adjusted his spectacles and nodded at you, his brows frowning, a sorry expression written on his face.

“We uh, apologise for bothering you on such short notice, but we hope you can understand.”

“Pleasure to meet you, the name’s Harvey Dent. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you,”

Harvey Dent stuck a warm hand out, smiling affably as you took it to give it a firm shake, shifting his eyes onto Blake at the last sentence. He was charming, just like the clips of him you’ve seen on television. You expected no less, but this level of charisma was unprecedented. You introduced yourself and smiled hesitantly, unsure, before you turned to look at Blake, hoping for an explanation. He looked at you and nodded reassuringly, the first time he had shown any real emotion to you this whole time. That made you feel slightly more relieved. The two men still didn’t exactly look at each other. Did they have some kind of beef with each other…?

“We’re not going to waste your time and get to the point,”

Gordon ushered you out of the hospital and into a cop car. This was your first time in one, and you were sure that you weren’t in it for illicit reasons, after seeing how John nodded at you earlier. It still unsettled you a little bit, you couldn’t be too sure. You had a read on the atmosphere after your initial shock subsided, and it was grim and urgent. You did not like this energy, no one says anything unnecessarily, probably to save time. It’s no wonder Blake was acting so unusually secretive, and uncommunicative. You felt bad now for blaming him. Blake and Harvey Dent sat to your left. Gordon took the front passenger’s seat.

You looked up outside the windows. It was dark outside much like the way the cop car’s leather seats and roof were painted black. A return back into the concrete jungle was imminent.

“We need your combined efforts in decoding whatever work you had on Gotham National Bank.”

You loosened your grip on your laptop. At least you weren’t in trouble for anything. You tried to maintain eye contact with Jim Gordon through the rear-view mirror, his kind yet profound looking eyes looking deep into yours. You could almost feel his burdens undoing into you. He had a weight on his shoulders and immense responsibilities you could not even dream of imagining. Gordon was the open-book type of person, evidently.

“Oh, is it the one proving Lau-”

“Yes, Lau’s fraudulence and involvement with the mob. He’s still in Hong Kong. Your data could really help us with his case and get him to talk. We need to take out the big dogs.”

Harvey Dent interjected. You turned your head towards him, and you saw his profile with his strong nose and golden hair. The golden boy of Gotham. Normally, you would be rather bothered by someone who cuts you off like that, but it felt different with Dent. Even you would defer to such absolute authority and apparent righteousness at a pressing time like this. From all his campaigns and court hearings, you could tell he was sincere in his pursuit of goodness in Gotham, he just overflowed with integrity and honour. He embodied that All-American charm, handsome, deep blue eyes monumental with some form of knightly honour. A heroic presence, almost like the kind Robert Redford sort of had. He shifted his cleft chin in thought, a hand to his temple, before he looked at you.

“Can you present us a full analysis of your findings and write out a report by tonight?”

He raised his brows a fraction, looking at you pleadingly with his blue eyes, lips stretched slightly with a gentle half-smile.

How could you say no when he had asked you with such sincerity? While he appeared to be brash at times, it was a quality that came with the job of being the city’s persecutor. It couldn’t be helped, you supposed.

After all, wasn’t this a dream of yours? To serve in the movement for change in Gotham.

This city is dying. It’s rotting.

No, it was rich land for the seeds in the car sitting right beside you. And you had a part to play too, a golden opportunity had presented itself.

“I already planned to expose that little rat, I didn’t need to be told.”

You looked away, snorting. You felt a slight tightening in your chest, and you cursed at the breathing difficulties caused by the smoke bomb. Blake eyed you from the corner of his eyes, trying to hide that twinkle, and his cheeks aching from holding down the pull of the sides. Harvey Dent paused, lightly taken aback by your statement, quirked his lips downwards in an arc, nodding his head unexpectedly.

“Well then, the youth these days never fail to surprise me. Welcome aboard, Miss.”

“Listen Mr. Dent, you’re still considered a spring chicken compared to those insufferable old farts we tolerate on a daily basis.”

You smiled. Harvey Dent let out a hearty laugh within his chest at this joke you cracked. It did well to ease the tension for critical times like these. You did consider him to be part of your generation, at the forefront leading this revolution. John Blake looked over at Dent, adding onto your statement.

“She’s right, you’re cut from the same cloth as us, you’re our peer. And you are the cream of the crop, the very best of us. Gotham is changing because of you.”

“Well, I feel very flattered, but I’m not the only one. It’s all thanks to the Batman.”

You grunted, a rumble through your chest, ignoring the pain. You’d agree to a certain extent, Batman was just the beginning. However, Harvey Dent was the culmination of all this. He was the hero with the face, the hero grounded in reality and tangible change. Batman can only go so far without the help of Harvey Dent.

“This is inspiring stuff and all, but are we forgetting something? Or someone? Or an entire generation above you?”

All of you turned your heads to Jim Gordon in the front seat. On the rear view mirror, Gordon had an expectant look on his face, his lips underneath that mustache pressed together in a thin line. The three of you in the backseat felt a light feather ticking your insides, threatening to break free at your throats. You all chuckled weakly, subdued laughter as you all darted your gazes, looking away at all absent corners of the cop car. You hid the humour in your voice with a stinging cough. Heaven forbid you all make light of the situation at a time like this.

###

You cleared your throat, feeling the lingering effects of the smoke on your system, the noise resounding off the washed out concrete brick walls, frosted white with an almost steely-blue. The small room made you feel sick and oppressed, with its air-conditioner temperature set to an isolating sixty degrees fahrenheit. You stepped back, the soft clicks of your heels hitting the concrete, non-tiled floor as you brought up a finger. It shuddered slightly, and you raised it up to point to the projector screen fabric hoisted on the wall, the shadow of your hand looming over the makeshift light projector setup the GCPD had provided, sending ripples through the fabric.

The room felt like a prison cell, almost deliberately designed to make you feel alienated and scrutinised. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, a fluorescent lighting irradiating through the room with a cool toned jarring brightness that made you squint a little, yet not completely illuminating the dark shadowy corners of the squarish room. A grey rectangular table sat in front of you, with Harvey Dent and Lieutenant Jim Gordon sitting back cross legged in their foldable plastic chairs, while John Blake sat hunched over on the other end of the table, furiously typing out a report on his laptop. You guessed you couldn’t expect anything too fancy from the Major Crimes Unit of Gotham. You needed to push through this presentation, despite the building physical discomfort following your predicament from the day before.

You made eye contact with Jim Gordon, with a little bit of difficulty, but you still pressed on to make your point. He had his hands clasped together, sitting between his thighs, and avoided your gaze to favour studying the data presented on the screen. Harvey Dent had a hand wrapped around one side of his cheek, and an elbow propped on the table, resting his head against it and listening intently. You had been given unreasonable demands to give impromptu presentations rather frequently at work, but definitely not within an hour of getting discharged from the hospital. Your nerves fired off a little bit and you tried your best not to let your voice betray you. You tugged your blazer tighter around your waist, blaming the cold for this action.

“I think we have a pretty strong case here. This is all the information you need, reallyㅡto charge Lau, especially with the insights from Mr. Blake. He was a forensic accountant.”

Gordon and Dent shared a pointed look at each other, expressions unreadable, before Gordon turned back to you to nod a gentle ‘thank you’. You took this as a sign to give them ample space for their own discussion and consolidation, and you let out a huge sigh, walking swiftly over to John Blake after being granted the permission to be dismissed. You dragged another foldable chair and scooched over to sit beside him. You leaned over to look at his laptop, then at him expectantly. He ignored this and continued looking at his screen.

“Little nervous there, weren’t you kid?”

You puffed your cheeks and let a stream of air out. You were punished for this motion as you felt searing pain up your larynx and flaring at your nostrils. You were about to lose your mind on him but you remembered the presence of the other two justice hounds in the room. Blake snickered inwardly. You supposed two compliments in two consecutive days was unheard of from the man. You hadn’t been silly enough to hope for that. Yesterday, what he said to you at the bank was possibly the most acknowledgement you had ever gotten from him for your worth as his partner, and you will take that to your chest and run away with it.

“Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you try giving a presentation after literally being discharged from the hospital?”

He decided to let it go and brush this off, his smile still not withholding however. He scrolled down the document he had impressively typed out. It seemed he had been working on it while you were out. It was way too detailed to have been put together in the short amount of time you were here, while you gave the presentation. You raised your brows, he was on his A game tonight, more so than usual. Working behind the scenes, after hours. You wondered what sparked this escalation in work ethic and quality. This little rivalry between you two felt slightly more visceral.

Covertly, you stared over at Gordon and Dent, who looked cold and calculative under the subtle hue of blue-toned lighting. They seemed to be in some kind of disagreement, brows furrowed and stubborn towards each other. Did this happen often? You chewed your lips and tapped lightly at the table. You could see Blake at the corner of your eyes rubbing his chin again. While you two were confidently secure in your abilities as analysts and consultants, working with public servants required a different form of rigour. It required a different kind of convincing. Not one that was only concerned with profits and risk-bearings, like your previous clients, but something that held ethical weight and certainty. You two had done something that could be classified as immoral, and you weren’t sure if this level of convincing was enough to gloss over that fact. Judging from John Blake’s body language, he shared the same sentiments. You took in a deep breath, despite the pain, desperately needing the extra air to catch up on your shortness of breath.

Gordon and Dent signaled for the two of you to come over and show them the written report. You could feel your heart beating quickly, hammering against your chest. The desire to please the authorities made your senses go wild, and it would only serve as a testament to your abilities if you could help the highest forms of justice in the city in these respects. Blake took this chance to explain briefly the navigation of the report, and to bring focus to the more important details of your presentation highlighted in the report. This would allow them to utilise the information more effectively and constructively should they ever need to take this to court. This once was his area of expertise, after all. Gordon and Dent gave each other another look and they looked pleased. Well, at least they came to a consensus on something. They had their attention on you again after the mutual confirmation.

“Astounding work you two,”

Harvey Dent smiled politely at you. Your erratic heartbeat calmed as you felt heat radiate off your face like a hot pan. Slowly the high of authoritative validation crept within your system. His words definitely felt like honey.

“I’m gonna need you to come with me to County tomorrow, after hours, to account for certain data and ledgers regarding Lau’s case. Could you spare me some of your time, Miss?”

You gulped. It was extremely hard to say no to this man. You weren’t going to turn down a request like this anyway, if it meant one step closer to saving Gotham City. A little sacrifice for something you love was nothing. You nodded tentatively at first, charting a rough impression of your weekly schedule in your head. You had work the next day and it would be very hectic for you. Blake looked impassive. You couldn’t get a read on him. Harvey Dent leaned back in his chair, threw the documents on his lap back onto the table and stood up to be eye level with you.

“Well, that would be all for today. I need to rush back, so I thank you all for your hard work.”

After Harvey Dent promptly left the room, Gordon shifted the laptop in front of him and stood up. The room felt significantly emptier with Dent gone, he had quite the presence. You looked around the room again, eyes scanning the white brick walls, squinting as your gaze briefly landed on the bare LED light bulb. You silently waited for Gordon to collect his thoughts.

“Consultant Blake, you're not going off the hook so easily, I’m afraid. The GCPD needs your help in tracing the mob’s money while it is being stowed away indefinitely.”

Blake pressed his lips into a thin line, giving a single nod of understanding. Gordon shifted his weight to his other foot, pondering. He cast his eyes downwards, then back onto Blake and you.

“You know, you two enjoy fighting against crime, right? I see something very special in you youngsters. Well, I have a proposition for you... So, here’s some food for thought.”

Gordon looked a little more intently at you two.

“We really could use your skill sets for our ongoing and future investigations for our fight against organised crime. We-uh, don’t receive nearly as much funding as we need from the state… So our financial forensics department is not as developed as it should be.”

He paused. You saw those worn down eyes again, beaten down by the world around him. He was an old soul, and he made no effort to mask the worry in his eyes, his forehead grazed with permanent crease lines, perhaps from constant frowning. You could see however, the silver lining behind his dark irises. The one thing not jaded, remaining pure and undiluted, was his hope in enforcing justice for Gotham City. That is where his true passion lies.

“We don’t have enough people with the relevant technological or knowledge based capabilities. I know this is too much to ask of you… But the offer is always open―I could negotiate a permanent spot for you two on the team, if you were to change your mind in future. That is, if you want to, of course-”

Gordon fumbled a little with his words, his hand waving about slightly. John Blake held a hand out, saving Gordon from his apparent awkwardness as he felt it unbecoming. Cops should at least have some pride. It would not do well for a lieutenant to be appealing to two private sector workers for help like this, it was almost completely undignified. Had the cops really been pressed thin to the brink? Pushed into a corner? Here, he had thought that the state of Gotham was improving immensely. Evidently, the fine balance of all powers in Gotham has been knocked over. Something was brewing. There was a storm coming.

You interjected.

“We’re, uh, very flattered! Thank you, Lieutenant Gordon. We will definitely keep your words in our hearts, and keep your offer in consideration.”

You all regarded each other for a moment, unspeaking―completely aware of the implications of all this. This whole agreement, and Gordon’s open proposal to you. John Blake stared hard, his jaws fixed in position. You sensed the energy in this room and it held an excruciating weight. You didn’t even know what you all were waiting for. You clenched your fingers at the hem of your blazer. You looked discreetly at John Blake, not really knowing what to expect. As if you didn’t want him to catch you staring.

“It’s been nine months since the first appearance of Batman. Since Falcone’s incarceration.”

Blake started, his voice sure and certain.

“Did anyone actually accomplish anything?”

His voice echoed through the room, piercing through everyone that stood. He stepped forward slightly. His gaze flitting down to the laptop in his hand.

“All Batman did was end Falcone’s era. The Police Headquarters rounded up new forces. The mob replaced the figurehead at the top. Dent’s attempts to take down the top dogs have been, to no avail. The big-timers didn’t take any action.”

You adjusted your collar, uncomfortable and unable to stare at him for any longer.

“Sure, petty crimes have been reduced, one by one. Things have changed. But at the root of it all… Nothing’s been fixed.”

He pondered wistfully.

“It was like… everybody was just preparing for something.”

Blake adjusted his tie.

“...And now you’re here, Lieutenant Gordon―You and Harvey Dent. Asking us for help, knowing very well that this-”

He waved his laptop around in his hand.

“-data right here, was gained unscrupulously. And it’s not too far-fetched to believe you two are corroborating closely with the Bat, despite that official policy is to arrest the vigilante known as Batman on sight.”

John Blake tilted his chin downwards, looking up at Gordon, a purse evident on his lips. You flinched a little.

“You are resorting to outlawed measures to fight the outlaws. And you’re telling me.”

Gordon could not find the right words to this. He responded carefully. He would have to humble himself and swallow his pride for the sake of Gotham’s future, and he had in fact pitched you all a rather unreasonable request. He hoped to be able to earnestly appeal to the parts of your hearts, no matter how small, that cared deeply for the city of Gotham. It had to be there, he assumed, otherwise you wouldn’t have aided in the investigations as readily as you did, at the drop of a hat.

“The mob had… squeezed us to the point of desperation, as much as I hate to admit it. I realise the first step to having a successful collusion with all parties involved is to drop the act and acknowledge this.”

You gulped, and finally said something. At this point, the tension in the room had made you forget the slightly debilitating pain in your trachea.

“Frankly speaking, we crossed the line first. We aren’t the only ones, and soon they’ll be hammered to the point of desperation, Lieutenant Gordon.”

Gordon grunted, a hum low in his chest.

“I know very well.”

John Blake, for the first time in this confrontation, allowed a smirk to grace his lips. He looked over at you.

“You always told me, kid…”

His gaze on you was unnerving, and compelling.

“...that the new era of the daring ones is coming along with an unstoppable swell. Batman is just the beginning. He... broke the gear. And we’re not going to be the only side taking up arms, fighting back.”

He shifted his gaze back onto Gordon.

“Expect a storm. Expect escalation. Expect a resistance like we’ve never seen before. There’s no turning back.”

You watched as their eyes locked, their hard expressions unyielding. Gordon was obviously not new to this line of thought, but perhaps no one had been courteous enough to engage with him in discussing the implications of such. He was at a loss for words, but not caught by surprise. His deeply emotive eyes stirred, and he spoke quietly.

“I am well aware of all this Consultant Blake. It’s not anything new to me. But I am prepared for anything and will stop at nothing. I do the best I can with what I have.”

Blake’s eyes softened a little, but still retaining their edge, knowing fully well what all of you had gotten yourselves into. The very moment you had engaged in these investigations and accepted the request in lending your contributions, you had placed all of your lives at stake. He stuck a palm to him out of habit, always one for the conditioned nicety.

“We have a deal, then. We will lend you our tentative aid. ”

###

Your teeth gnawed slightly at your lips as you made your rounds around the main office room in the MCU. The administrative office had been closed long since you arrived here. You reorganised your datasets you gathered from Gotham National Bank, and printed out the required evidence for your visit to County the next day. It occurred to you, with the impromptu presentation you delivered earlier, that you needed to revise the formatting of your work before it was court-ready. You stood by the printer, listening to the squeaking of ink running across paper and the whir and buzz of the mechanism inside.

You exhaled, the first time this night since being discharged that you could take a brief moment of respite. You had a newfound respect for crime fighters in Gotham, if this was what their lifestyles consisted of. Gordon hadn’t even left the MCU, he resolved to return to his private workspace at the top floor of this building. Justice never sleeps, you supposed. You looked out the window, groaning then pinching the bridge of your nose. It was a special kind of blackness out there, one you would probably only see during the witching hours. You wouldn’t be able to get the rest you needed to recover properly, since you probably only had a couple hours of sleep at best before you had to wake up to head for work. Then, when you were done for the day, you would have to rush over to County, grab a bite on the go for dinner if you were lucky, and turn in late again.

Never would you have thought that you would find yourself working on the side of justice in this way, having a direct hand in adjusting things in Gotham for good. Although, it did seem like a sort of calling to you, in a way. Things were a little bit too convenient, and pieces fell into place together too easily. It was like a feasible chemical reaction in a way that was bound to happen at any given point in time, so long as time had stretched on. You tapped your fingers against your chapped lips, deliberating for a while.

You did always wish you had a reliable way of measuring what was guaranteed and what wasn’t. It would provide you with a greater control over your life than what you had over the past few years, one that you sought after.

Serendipity.

You weren’t exactly too sure if you could call it that.

Your thoughts wandered back to your coworker and boss, John Blake. He was pretty much done for the night and didn’t have much else to wrap up on. He would wait for you at the porch of the MCU. He had been acting rather strange. Ever since you first saw him, he had been pretty cold to you. But now, it was currently walking along a fine line of coldness and slight, dare you say, hostility. You supposed that he had always been pretty insufferable to you. God, since the start, he had been pretty provocative even when you were sitting round the coffee table at that one boujee cafe. But it had, well, mostly always been in playful jest, or friendly banter. You supposed you always did feel the strife of competition with him, always needing to prove something to him.

You groaned again, feeling a pinch behind your eyes. You had to save all this thinking for later when you weren’t exactly sleep deprived. You ran a final check through all your printouts, languidly flipping through them with an index finger. Satisfied, you tapped the width of the entire stack a couple times against the surface of the wooden table, aligning the sheets within. You slotted it in an empty file supplied by the GCPD, and headed to the entrance with the large front doors.

Harvey Dent and Gordon sure made the impression on you, though you did have your doubts towards them. Their relationship seemed… unnatural, kind of strained. You could even describe it as seeming dysfunctional. And it was obvious to you. You couldn’t really blame them, though. With corruption levels so high in this city, you wouldn’t know who to trust either. You would love to have faith in the system, but if they were so good, they wouldn’t be turning to you and Blake.

You stepped out into lights cast upon the porch by the warm streetlamps, lost in your thoughts.

John Blake.

You squinted upon the intrusion of the flaring streetlamps. You saw two streetlamps in the spot where there should only be one.

What the hell?

You rubbed your eyes with your free hand. You couldn’t hear anything.

Where is he… anyway?

You strained your eyes open again.

The streetlamps were like a desert mirage. You saw the two balls of light separate slightly, then start to converge.

Your hair stood on ends, from the back of your neck to the entirety of your arms. Something scraped along the inside of your ears, a high-pitched screeching that bounced within your ear canal.

You blinked, your shoulders tensing up. You took a step forward, your breath faltering.

Your feet wobbled slightly as you made your first descent down a step. You gripped onto your laptop and file even tighter.

No…

You broke into an all out sprint, almost nose diving down the long flight of stairs, the sensation pulling at your lungs disorientating.

Does it depress you? To know that your reality is based on comforting lies?

Poor little girl... You think a safe space will actually help.

You felt something black and long, emaciated fingertips reaching into your ear and scratching lightly. They were charred and felt like the bark of scorched trees. They were lanky and skinny like tree branches, about a foot long and grazed at the walls of your ear canals.

If you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss stares back at you.

It was a creature of the underworld. One of the most fearsome apparitions, not from the corporal realm. Then… What was he doing here? You bristled.

Judgement had been passed, and the final fight between good and evil awaits.

He was the plaguebearer, the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. He was the harbinger of the pestilence. When the time was right, he will besiege the world with pure pandemonium.

Flesh thudded against stone tiled floors. A strangled scream tore gutturally through the streets. These sounds were incredibly muffled to you.

He barely turned his head to give a brief, uninterested, side glance.

And all of a sudden, all your senses returned to you in one compounding moment, everything came crashing down dramatically upon you like a surging, symphonic orchestral blare, and you were met with your fears. The scratchy fingertips stabbed and pierced into your eardrums, and a sharp, debilitating throb pounded through your head. No amount of alcohol could make you forget the sight of his gruesome face.

Here he stood, in the corporeal world, insidious and spectral. The time had come, and his presence heralded the arrival of world’s end, the armageddon before Judgement Day.

You were unfortunate enough to be caught, dead in the center of this maelstrom.

You looked death in the eye, watching carefully as you anticipated his next course of action. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Ah, uninvited guests―Always a, uh, welcome surprise.”

He slurred the last word. You tried your hardest to react, to at least do something, anything at all really would do at this moment. Ounce by ounce, he filled every space and cavity your physical being had to offer, and then those your spiritual and mental being as well, for there seemed to not be enough space for this surreal and... grotesque thing. You couldn’t breathe, it felt as if his mere presence was asphyxiating. You wanted to move, you wanted to run, you wanted to curl up into a ball, you wanted to move at least one goddamned muscle in your body.

But you can’t.

Sighing exaggeratedly, as if the world owed him a living, he trudged forward slowly and expectantly towards you. He put both his palms up, facing you, stretching and spacing out all his gloved fingers, perhaps in mock concession, a friendly gesture showing that he had nothing to hide. He raised his brows at you with his lips in a sulk, derisive in his condolences. All at once, the air was knocked out of your lungs, and your torso was constricted. You could barely comprehend what was happening, and he seized you by warping behind you as quickly as his stature allowed for. You bit into your lips, tears pricking at your eyes that you could allow such a thing to happen without having the guts to put up a fight. You thrashed your head around, struggling against his grasp, his leather gloved hands muffling a yelp that escaped your lips.

He grumbled about something related to people minding their own businesses, but you were far too busy trying to pry away at his iron clasp around your figure to comprehend what he was really saying.

You couldn’t breathe properly. You sucked in as much air as you could through your scalded nostrils. Your lungs burned. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t see his face, that you could muster the courage required for this display of resistance to his restraints. Your laptop and files were left forgotten, dropped by the pavement and driven into the soil.

“Kid, it’s fine, just relax and don’t―urgh! Don’t...don’t do anything rash.”

You peered down as he rasped, the side of his face pressed mercilessly down into the concrete slabs of the sidewalk. Your shaky pupils searched the scene in front of you. The darkness was illuminated by the mellow streetlamps. John Blake was pushed, head first into the ground with a big, pale, brown-haired man kneeling against his form, restraining his arm behind his back. He was armed. That put you slightly more on edge, and slightly more willing to comply. The wraith behind you removed his hand from your mouth, and just as you were about to let out an ear-curdling scream, you felt a cold smoothness of the point of a knife tickle you lightly at your neck, drawing circles around your pulse point gently. Stubbornly, you slackened your arms a little, but still maintained a hold on his forearms.

Let… Let go of John.

You saw another man a couple feet beside him, frightened out of his wits, held at gunpoint by another goon, this one wearing a clown mask. He was quivering slightly, both his arms behind his head, clad in a grey suit, a piece of paper duct-taped at its front with words scribbled sloppily―‘Please deliver to Lieutenant Gordon.’ You scrunch your nose a little, tracing your eyes up to look into his panic-stricken, beady eyes.

“Lau?”

You spit out in disbelief, momentarily forgetting the compromising position you were in. The phantom circled his arms around you tighter like a python, a ritual they performed before they devoured their prey. It was no use, your arms were wedged by your sides at this point. You tried one last time to fight it, but it was met with a mere chuckle.

“I see we’re all, uh, acquainted here?”

He gestured in sardonic formality with his fingers that weren’t latched onto the trigger. He had an incredibly erratic cadence to his voice. His intonations and inflections were completely irregular, he stressed words in a pattern that seemed completely… random. This made even the way he spoke instinctually threatening, for you didn’t know what to expect from him, a sort of jagged edge that laced his words. It granted him a heightened sense of unpredictability, and a malicious air of danger that felt even more tangible. You felt this, it was all too real.

“You’re working with the police to sell me out, is that how it is? You would betray your own company’s affiliate.”

Lau, with as much disdain he could gather within him in his sorry state, glared daggers at you. His hands shook more violently, unable to control the trepidation of fear and anger mixed together in a deadly concoction. The ghoulish man who held you shifted you in his grasp a little, pressing your head closer to his cheek, and you felt the stickiness of his greasepaint latch onto your hair. You cringed and recoiled, lips contorting in disgust. He swiped his tongue against the ridges along his bottom lip.

“I wouldn’t be so ah... concerned with that, if I were you. Seeing that our boy-o over here so valiantly jumped in to save your little-ol life.”

You snarled at this implication, how dare he mock John? You clawed at his forearm, digging your nails into the velvety textile of his purple sleeve, and jerked yourself against his grasp. Roughly, he tensed his arm against your body. He shifted his lips closer to your ear, his slimy breath stroking the shell of your ear, smearing some hot waxy face paint against your cheek.

“Ah-tatta… Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

He growled that last bit menacingly into your ear, pushing the slender tapered point of his blade deeper into your neck, sashaying side to side ominously as he adjusted his hold on you to expertly elude his arm from your long nails. He played around with the butt of the knife, tapping it and twisting it around absentmindedly. The blade slid against the delicate skin of your throat carelessly, with varying pressure. You froze. Just because you couldn’t see him didn’t mean he wasn’t there. As a grim reminder of his presence, he knowingly did this, intruding all boundaries of your personal space. Your blood ran cold, frosted by the chilling metal digging into your neck, and your sight remained trained on John Blake.

Events that happened at the bank flipped through your mind like the pages of a comic book.

Terrorist. Master-manipulator. Criminal. What the hell are you?

You weren’t sure if you should be more afraid of this more talkative version of the clown, or the dead silent dirt green-haired man under the frowning mask.

If there was one thing they had in common, you couldn’t fully understand either of them.

Your life was in the hands of a madman who treated it all like a game.

You saw John looking straight into you, seething underneath all that pressure. You tried to seek solace in him and calm him down at the same time, trying to convey your emotions through your eyes.

Tongue in cheek, the man behind you was clearly watching this interaction, unamused.

“For a couple of party crashers-ah? You guys sure are bor―ing.”

With a low rumble in his chest, he shoved you forward and seized your hands behind you, pressing the knife against the back of your neck. A gasp escaped your lips, not used to the crassness of which you were being handled.

“Ooh, I have an idea, something real fun. It wouldn’t do to do this at our, uh, current venue however…”

He gestured his goons towards the abandoned building in front of you.

Catching your breath, you twisted your head to the side to look at John Blake, your eyes widening and searching his face desperately. You had no choice but to be subjected to this… sick game of his.

“It’ll be okay, John. We’ll be okay.”

You only managed to catch a glimpse of his jaw clenching and his hard eyes looking back at you, before the clown in the purple suit pushed you forward again. The clown smacked his lips together.

“Make it fast, lovebirds.”

###

Your head spun feverishly. You were sleep-deprived, couldn’t breathe well, and in a… sticky situation. You were just slammed forcefully, thrown head first into a fiberboard office desk. Through a teary-eyed vision, for a moment it was pitchblack, with the dim light of the city at night filtering through the window. Then, you were blinded by the sting of office-grade LED strip lights arranged neatly on the ceilings above you. Your trachea was already burning from being forced to climb up a flight of stairs. You had just about enough. This debilitation and lightheadedness gave you a newfound strength, ironically.

You thought back on the 9/11 attacks, and on every other occasion you felt this similar genuine terror strike up in your heart. You vaguely remember some quote, to never negotiate with terrorists, or something like that. Terrible advice really, to anyone who was actually in a terror situation where it was life or death, but to hell with it. You were at your limit for the amount of bullshit you could tolerate. Being absolutely manhandled was not in your itinerary this night. You thought back on every good thing you’ve tried to do for Gotham, sickeningly undone by thugs like these. Your hunched form felt an animosity that was like acid, burning, slicing and extremely potent. And luck has it, you’re trying to stop me again.

Your forehead was propped against the desk for support. Your hands were free, but your world was spinning too much for you to do anything with them. You bared your teeth, and you swear you could feel fangs growing where your canines were rooted.

Violently, you hurled your voice against the desk.

“Haven’t you done enough to us at the bank?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth, clenching your fists tightly. Your blood was hot, and you could no longer feel the coolness of the blade against your neck.

“I’m not afraid of you terrorists. Frankly speaking, I am absolutely sick of you little bastards.”

Venomously, you spit the excess saliva in your mouth against the desk, overwhelmed with emotion.

You felt him tugging at your white blazer sleeves, and an excruciating force wrenched at the crown of your head by the hair, lifting your body up slightly, with it still looming over the desk. You felt a suppressed rage as you ran out of ways to express your anger in this awkward position, and you prepared to resort to launching a spit at him to resolve this compulsion.

But the moment you were face to face with him, the hairs on the nape of your neck bristled. Trapped in your own psychosis, you were wheedled into a living nightmare tailor made for your own brain to play on your deepest fears. Two holes gouged out for eyes, and a bloodied smile carved in place of lips, all splotched onto a chalky white canvas. He looked like a corpse, and you felt the urge to puke. You felt your stomach lurch, and you clutched at your mouth to coax the acidic feeling back down your throat.

He studied you, frowning deeply and narrowing his eyes, straining his head sideways to get a better look at you. God, when he narrowed those eyes, his sclera disappeared and they looked like the eye sockets embedded within a skull. His greasy hair frayed around framing his head stiffly, lifeless with its strands starched and stiffened together with muck, as if it were dipped in formaldehyde, its proteins coagulated rigidly like it belonged to a cadaver that had long been embalmed. They were bleached off of their natural colour and a faded wash of pallid, acid pale green remained. The fact that he smelled strongly of a queasy mixture of many different chemicals definitely did nothing to help.

“Ah, so you are that little doctor girl back there. I remember you... Who else on earth wears a, uh, white blazer?”

He snorted at the end, pinched at your sleeve at the same time, causing your forearm to be lifted, before he let it go. Your wrist bone landed, smacking against the table with a loud snap. The bite was sharp and pointed. You quickly grabbed your hand and held it to your chest, rubbing over it soothingly. You had no idea why you felt offended by this.

“Glad you made it, little girl-”

“Doctor... What? And says you! You’re-you’re dressed in a purple trench-”

You cut him off. He regarded you with a slow lick of his lips, gliding languidly over the fringes of his scars. He gets even closer, up in your face. He stares down at you, looking directly into your very being. You try to look away, but you could only see ink black. You could even smell the greasepaint in this enclosed space. You felt the world spinning.

“C’mere―Hey. Look at me.”

He rasped, dragging the clipped point of the dagger against your cheek, pressing it against the corner of your lips.

“Y'know, whenever people say they’re... not afraid of me,”

He looked away, inflecting his voice. Then he pointed at his face with his gloved hands, gesturing at the distance between you two, etching even closer. You felt an internal score rising in pitch.

“I do this. I get all up in their face.”

He nodded at you. To this you sealed your eyes back together. You dared not look. The world had not stopped circling around you. He yanked your head.

“Hey―come on…”

Cooing, he sticks the blade in your mouth. It took all your strength in order to keep your eyes open, just to stare helplessly into back his cavernous ones. The straining notes were reaching an unbearable dissonance, tearing jarringly into your eardrums. It was excruciating. Your ears ached and bled. They reached a frequency that was no longer audible to you.

“And guess what? They’re always silent. Like you, right now.”

He smiled, patronisingly, with a sympathetic look on his face, shaking his head slightly.

“People that, uh, put on a show… are spineless, more often, than no-t.”

He patted your face gently with his leather finger tips, then rubbed loose patterns around. He had you in his trap. You were his prey, no more than a little mouse to a cold-blooded viper. He flicked his tongue rapidly out of his mouth, then retracts it. What he said wasn’t… false. You couldn’t take it any longer. The revolutions around you were excessive.

“Hey―Freakshow. Does it feel good intimidating someone smaller than you? Behind a mask?”

You saw his eyeballs shift to the side with the weight of a boulder, this time jarringly wide, and you could only see the white of his eyes. He really did not look amused. He shifted his bottom lips in a restrained tick, almost like a controlled form of madness. He leaned back slightly, his grip still firm on your hair, wobbling it around slightly. His body bent a little backwards from the hips, and he dramatically gesticulated his hand holding the knife into an open palm.

“Very well, your dashing knight in ah, shining armour has given us a great suggestion.”

Your body was pulled towards him and he faced it towards the center of the room, with that familiar careless grace you witnessed days ago. His arm was hooked suffocatingly around your neck, and you were face to face with the setting of an abandoned office room. The only furniture was the shabby office desk before you, and floorboards were uncovered, revealing nails sticking out of the ground. The wallpaper was partially torn, a pale beige staining at the edges with a rusted brown. A few slider windows were spruced along the walls surrounding the room.

John Blake and Lau were pushed all the way to the windows, both of them still held captive by the two goons, edging dangerously close to the borders. Lau stood on the left, and Blake on the right.

“Let’s extend this little… game between us,”

The grisly clown tongued along the scars on his inner cheek.

“To our guests here with us.”

He reached around beneath his coat, into his back pocket.

“You deranged fuck, what you’re doing here is sick-”

Bones cracked. A fist connected with John Blake’s skull.

Lau just stared on agitatedly, his tongue curling against his bottom lip as he inhaled deeply, his breathing rate increasing. His hands were still behind his head.

“Between one life or the other,”

The clown craned his head into your line of sight, to check if you were still listening. Your chest constricted, and your breathing picked up. The pain escalated.

“You’ll get to choose…”

Reaching around you, he presented a gun, glinting silver. You stared at it, horrified. He cackled scratchily, the sound of his voice grating to your ears like sandpaper. From behind, he wrapped his hands around yours as gingerly as he could at first, as if he were handling a delicate little child, teaching them a valuable life skill, such as tying their shoe laces. Soon he gave up on this idea and thrust it in your hand, then unceremoniously clasped his hands tightly around yours, fumbling slightly with the butt of the gun. He made a throaty noise. His varnished gloves rubbed mercilessly against the skin on your knuckles.

No, no, no, no....

You squeezed your eyes, an epileptic meditation amidst the prelude of a panic attack. He hunched over, jutting a sharp chin into the tender flesh between your neck and shoulder. You squirmed, and felt purple walls around you constricting further as his arms enclosed around you, your heart sinking further down and squished into a box. You did not like him pushing past your personal boundaries at all.

“You can’t make me do this.”

Your voice was barely a crack above a whisper, croaking silently.

He lifted his chin and pushed back down on your shoulder to get a closer look at your face, making a nasally grunt as he did so.

“You do know what’s gonna happen to you if ya don’t play along now, don’tcha?”

He bobbed your hand around slightly, the gleaming danger of the pistol hypnotic. You stay rooted to the spot, coercing your hands into relaxation. You were being lured into its spell, it was like a siren that serenaded, and the barrel of the gun looked like that of a deformed pipe. His arms were caged around you, you were locked in place.

You followed the sound of the pipe.

Your eyes were steely.

He turned his cheek a little, nudging the side of his cheek against yours to direct your attention to the left side. More wax was smeared on your face. You felt stifled.

“Your… corrupt boss who cares about nothing but money,”

Your gun was still pointed to the middle of Blake and Lau. But you were bewitched to keep your gaze on Lau, and he stared at you with the same flecks of red in his eyes as he did a couple days ago at the office.

“You know, my car is worth more than both of your entire life savings combined-”

“Or…”

He jerked his head slightly to the right and made another nasal sound to redirect you, along with the disgusting lick of his lips. The walls were slowly caving in.

“Your tall, dark and handsome squeeze over here.”

He crooned suggestively.

“Y’know, he is pretty gallant―Maybe he wouldn’t mind sacrificing his life so that little squealing rat could live.”

You watched John Blake as he was being jostled roughly by the brown-haired man. You didn’t know how to react, and you couldn’t find the right words to say. For some reason, that statement made you feel somehow… sorrowful. Why?

“He… We’re not attached.”

You silently blurted out. You felt a low rumble vibrating against your back, before the clown behind you burst into a fit of light, high-pitched giggles, incredulous. On top of his voice, even his nasal laughter sounded like a cynical, washed out clown who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, who put on a red nose and laughed derisively at childrens’ misery at their own birthday parties.

This was something you felt the need to clarify? Right before all of your untimely deaths? Oh, how entertaining this was to him. You were beyond foolish to the clown.

“Talk about ice cold, little girl.”

The clown scoffed in disbelief.

“My brother over there, I’m so sorry. Trust me, I feel for ya-”

He jeered, wiping a fake tear away from his eyes, letting the last waves of his laughter tide through. You frowned, puzzled and bewildered. You caught John Blake’s gaze, helplessly searching for answers from him. He tensed his jaw further, collecting his thoughts. Clearly, the clown’s antics were getting to him. You couldn’t blame him. You fared no better. He took a deep breath and calmed.

“It’s fine, just relax. Don’t fall for his twisted mind games.”

The clown pouted at him. He was pushed even further against the edge of the window, the brown-haired man pointing his gun underneath his chin and painstakingly shoved him further backward. His lower body was the only thing anchoring him to the floorboard. The corpse clown's hands clasped over yours tapped it impatiently a couple of times.

“We don’t have all day, y’know.”

He deadpanned. You inhaled slightly and closed your eyes. Your mind sifted through many memories, sharp and bright, of all your interactions with Lau. Of all the conversations you’ve had with John over Lau.

That man is nothing but scum. He has contributed to the steady crumble of Gotham, peddling drugs, perpetuating murders, and ensuring that the mob ruled the city with an iron fist.

It was scary how you were able to rationalise this.

No hard feelings Lau. An eye for an eye. That’s all it really is.

You slowly felt anger and vengeance bubbling in your stomach. You were overwhelmed with the savagery of the beast. You sought retribution, reprisal and revenge. This… was you. And you had all the power in the world to take the law into your hands, to play your own judge. You slowly traced the line of the sight of the gun to your left. The music of the pipe resounded melodically. It’s dangerous. But it was so… incredibly sweet. You looked up from the barrel to the man its sight landed on. Your eyes were glazed over. The clown behind you hummed in assent, pleased with the results. Your fingers hooked at the trigger, hesitating.

“Excellent choice, little girl.”

He licked his lips. He toyed around with the gun, playing and fiddling with its hammer, flicking it and letting go absentmindedly.

“If only it weren’t so, ah… pre-dictable.”

He rested his fingers atop of yours. Your hands shook a little.

“Is it because it goes ‘according to plan’? I mean, he’s the obvious baddie over here, and all you… do-gooders. You clearly deserve to live. To bring him to justice.”

He purred into your ear, his breath fanning you hotly. John Blake struggled further against the man holding him back. He had no hands to grip onto the frames of the window. His fall was imminent. He had to speak up now. There was no better time. Desperately, he wheezed.

“You know kid,”

He sputtered slightly.

“I always told you that you were like a… like a siege engine. I’m only saying this now because it’s a matter of life or death,”

His words were initially spat out at a fast pace, his voice was very strained from his extreme and awkward position, and his breath was laboured. Eventually, he slowed down to get his point across more clearly.

“You’re a fine weapon. A valuable asset to my company, and your work is remarkable. I’ve always entrusted you to make the right decisions as my junior analyst… But I’ve come to realise you’re so much more. ”

He tried to peer down at you from his obstructed view, toiling as his voice was weak from holding this position. For so long you worked so hard for him, and you barely got rewarded with words of confirmation. Your eyes went wide and you hastily looked at him, they were glossy and large like a puppy dog. Your heart squeezed gut wrenchingly, for months you pined for this truth. You yearned so deeply to now what he truly thought of you and everything you’ve done for him.

“You’re always by my… my side. It’s two of us against the world. You’re the only person I want to do this job with. You’re a bright girl, with so much flair for what you do. And that’s not the only part,”

You felt yourself drift higher and higher, and you were now a lightweight. Drunk on his words, you’ve never heard him speak so personally about you before. It was always sparse little words of affirmation sprinkled around sparingly. He was an incredibly stingy man. He was so ungenerous with praise. It was always snarky jabs at you. He always made you feel the need to prove yourself. But he was the first one who gave you the chance to.

“That’s not what makes you special. I want you to remember our vision-”

He implored earnestly.

“Our vision… has been tainted. But that doesn’t make it any more invalid. Sometimes... we do have to get our hands dirty, for-for the greater good.”

He breathed, in between jagged gasps. If this was what he truly thought of you...

“I’ll trust you again. To do the right thing.”

Intently, you listened to his words, your eyes watering slightly. You tried internalising the wealth of what he said to you. It was a lot to take in, it all happened so fast. This conversation was happening prematurely. You had no idea who was playing the pipe at this point. Where was the sound coming from…? The alluring music converged from all corners, all directing to the source of the instrument in your hand.

The clown behind you went uncharacteristically silent. He licked his lips slowly, studying the exchange between the two of you. Siege engine, huh? What a funny word to describe you with. Siege engines were colossal battering rams, castle forged and an exalted war machine that delivered victories to the warring states for centuries. Monumental goliaths, they were the front lines, the fortress breakers, the castle crashers, leading the furious charge on battlefields when zero hour arrived. They were medieval trebuchets of acclaim, a necessity for triumph in war. As glorious as they were, they could only be as great as their role allowed them to be. At the end of the day, they were nothing but a mere pawn of war.

You slowly looked at Lau, and he no longer looked at you with that malice from before. It was replaced by a look that was… strikingly familiar. He reminded you of the mob bank teller days prior. Pleading, frightened, like a cornered animal, desperate and fighting to survive. His gaze pierced right through to your heart. This struck a chord within you. You observed how his eyebrows knitted into the shape of a mountain, quivering lightly. His lips downturned and parted slightly. His eyes were large. The look of a man whose life flashed before his life.

Yes, he did cause you a lot of trouble at the office. He did utterly degrade and humiliate you. He made your job hard. The moment he stepped in, he made you hate your job. No actually, that’s the understatement of the century. He made you loathe your job, detest it, abhor it. Pretty much anything to do with a severe hateful feeling you felt for this job, where you used to feel joy or any small amount of excitement, he had killed it for you. But did he really deserve to die for this?

“I-”

A croak filed through your dry throat. It felt like a type of flesh eating insect was festering within your insides. Starting at your heart, they feasted at the tissue down into your stomach, and they were coming up through your gullet. The moral conscience weighed inside of you like a heavy pendulum, one swing away from breaking off from its support and crashing through to your very center. You couldn’t bear the moral weight of such a decision. This was not a burden you could carry for the rest of your life.

“I can’t. I can’t do it.”

John Blake looked at you while he sucked in a breath, unreadable. Lau fell to his knees, a wash of relief coming over him. He continued being kicked and kneed in the face by the goon wearing a clown mask.

“Ah... you’ve already chosen unfortunate-ly. And you’re not backing out of this one, sweetheart.”

You flinched hearing the voice that you had forgotten was there. This stirred something within you, and you refused to give into his demands. You would rather die than make a choice like this.

“No, I am not giving into your stupid, twisted pseudo-social experiment-”

You twisted the gun barrel to face yourself, and for once, you heard no more music.

“It wouldn’t even matter who I chose anyway… would it?”

Shakily, you looked into the head of the barrel, and you felt… grief. It was cold and empty looking. For the second time that night, it felt like you were looking death in the eye. A knot twisted in your stomach. Your tears spilled over your cheeks, flowing hotly. You wept silently. You were stubborn, you would go to this extent just to prove something. Your ego knew no bounds. Your hearing blanked out for a moment, and you vaguely heard Blake shouting at you. You suddenly plunged into purgatory, existing solely on the plane between life and death. You teetered on the edge. Lau looked on from the ground, body tense and deeply perturbed. This turn of events was greeted by silence from the clown.

The clown stared, wide eyed. His face twitched. His lips quirked into a frown. Why… would you do something like that? His eyes narrowed a fraction. He couldn’t comprehend this. It wasn’t exactly easy to render him speechless. Why on earth would you throw your life away for another’s? This he could not understand. Humans are... selfish creatures. At the core of it, they were all rotten and purely motivated by self-interest. Then… then why? Why hadn’t he been able to predict this? This ate at him. Got under his skin. It grinded his gears. His arms wrung around you tighter. He observed the pistol pointed at your forehead. This was pathetic. Absolutely ridiculous. Confusion quickly dissipated in his chest and boiled into a seething, frothy rage. His jaw jutted forth and tensed, trembling slightly, his lips pursing together. He cackled through his nostrils, sounding a little manic. If you really wanted death, he wasn’t going to just give it to you, no. Ah, ah, ah… I’m not letting you get your satisfaction out of this. He couldn’t let you off the hook this easy.

“Well then, little girl. You can’t be a… a sore loser and quit playing our game now.”

His lilt sounded crazed. He gripped your hands tighter, you felt the leather skirting against your skin.

“I suppose-ah, I’ll have to finish your job for you.”

He spat, his words practically dripping with pure spite and malice. He wrenched your wrist to aim the gun away from you. Alarmed, your senses were heightened and you let out a sharp bark. At a speed you’ve never seen yourself move at before, you bent forward and locked your jaw around his fingers, chomping down forcefully. Your teeth sunk into his leather glove, and clamped down straight into his last finger. Squawking, he was caught off-guard. You heaved your foot and aimed a kick at his crotch. He let out a muffled noise of pain, and you tried your damndest to take advantage of this and get out of this situation.

You struggled in his grasp, elbowing around at the sides, hoping to worm your way out of it. Unfortunately, he was unrelenting. Your hands were still on the gun, your fingers idling at the trigger. He doubled over, sickling an arm around your neck and gripped tightly onto the pistol, a finger slotted between the gun hammer and the rear sight, pulling it back. While he was in his position bent over, he was looming over you, laughing slightly. You were choking, beyond freaked out at this point, not exactly getting the reaction you wanted from him, and now you were completely unsure as to what he would do. The feeling of confinement was too much and you were at your breaking point.

“Y’know, forget being a siege engine,”

He grabbed your jaw, forcefully burrowing his fingers into your cheek.

“I think she’s more of a, uh, pinky bruiser.”

He tore your head upwards, and latched his hands back onto yours. He yanked at them, and aimed the gun at Lau. Ready, aim... He fastened his index fingers around yours. You widen your eyes, panicked with alarm bells shrilling through your head. Fire!

“No!”

He pulled at the trigger. You jerked your arms violently to the left, frantic. Recoiling, you were sent careening further back into the clown. The sound of the gun shot pierced through the air like a firecracker. You saw the goon with the mask fallen to the ground, his denim jeans getting soaked through with a fresh, gurgling red dampness around his thigh.

Before anything else could be registered in your mind, the brown-haired man on the right side of the room displaced John Blake’s leg, and grabbed his lower torso, flinging him over the ledge of the window sill. You tried to lunge forward, demented and crazed, you were quickly becoming hysterical.

“Ohmygod John-”

Completely out of control, a scream tore through with your whole body like a shard of glass, you took no notice of the pain in your lungs as you were rapidly turning unhinged. The man who flipped John over like he was a light, airy pancake, faced you and you heard the click of a gun.

You saw the sight of a gun cocked in your direction. You felt tears well up in your eyes at this very fraction of time.

Bang!

You screwed your eyes shut, expecting the most intense agony you would ever feel in your life. But the pain never came. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and you saw the goon drop unconscious like a fly zapped through an electric swatter, most likely dead.

“Did I tell you to shoot her…”

The clown behind you muttered to himself, the smell of gunpowder burning your nostrils and you saw streaks of smoke smouldering and rising from the gun barrel in his hands. You tensed your shoulders, mouth slightly agape in bewilderment. You mouthed something soundlessly, but words could not form. What are you doing-

The crackle of wood being busted through splintered at your ears, the noise tearing through the room sickeningly. You didn’t even have time to decide whether you should feel relieved or not.

“Drop the weapon, now!”

Lieutenant Gordon came bursting through with a team of policemen, their pistols aiming at every figure present in the room. He looked at you and the clown, and kept his gun trained in your direction. He dared not edge closer, in case you got harmed.

The clown, with his hold still vice-like on you, stumbled backwards pulling you along ungracefully. He still kept you imprisoned under his reign for one final moment in time. You were at his mercy.

“Drop it now!”

A pair of lips pressed intimately into your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“You know pinky bruiser, you were a lot of fun today. Sorry for, uh, calling you a party pooper.”

He rasped. A chuckle rumbled lowly in his chest.

“I think... you and I both know―Fate wouldn’t have it if this was our last time together.”

He murmured and you were about to pass out from this lightheadedness and claustrophobia. You were constricted for far too long. You were way past your breaking point. A huge force tipped you backwards. You grabbed onto the ledge of the window sills, your veins popping from exerting such a strong force on your arms.

All of a sudden, the clown’s hold on you was relinquished.

Your lungs overflowed with air, and your body was dramatically jerked forward, pain flooding your systems as you dry-heaved. Gordon hurried over by your side, extending a tender hand to rest on your arm. Realisation dawned upon you, and you swiftly spun around, bending over the ledge, looking out the window. You craned your neck as far down as you could see, hunting down and examining the perimeter.

Gone.

Gordon was pulling you back, preventing you from falling out the window. He was trying to talk some sense into you, but quickly gave up when he realised your current, panicked state of mind. Your strength was fading, and you allowed Gordon to reel you back into safety. Why didn’t you just… kill me? You thumped, falling to your knees, grabbing your hands to your head, sobbing and whimpering your sorrows away. You finally allowed all the pent up emotions to crash, not that you could control it now, anyway. It felt like a mallet crashing through from behind your eyes and nose, the twinging sensation unbearable as you wailed. It should have been me, goddamn it.

Gordon knelt down, sighing and furrowing his brows in sympathy. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, then closed his mouth. He felt useless in this situation, clearly unable to help clear your head of any type of trauma that resulted from this unfortunate event. He was aware of this. He hated feeling this powerless, he hated not being able to help. He had perhaps felt this way his entire career, with a town like Gotham so rotten, the GCPD was basically made a mockery at this point.

Lau was about to be taken by the other cops back into custody. He ambled past you, and looked over you and your pathetic form. For once, his expression was not one of scorn. It wasn’t one of anything really, he just looked a shell of the person he was just moments ago. You were pushing it if you said he looked like he felt bad for you, and that he held a thankful expression at the same time. You weren’t sure if you believed him to be capable of that.

You were escorted out the abandoned office building, swaying and staggering around. You went to pick up the devices strewn all over the soil, with some help from Gordon. When you saw a glowing cop car with shattered windows and John Blake being supported by two cops, relieving pressure off his shoulders, you quickly rubbed at your tear stained face and hobbled over as quick as you could, relief pumping through your chest as you were hopeful that he survived the fall.

The paramedics were on their way, and from the looks of it, John had a mildly serious shoulder injury and got extremely lucky. He had fallen from a height of 1 story from the ground, but as luck would have it, his fall was broken by the cop car stationed coincidentally below the window. He also fell on his side, which allowed for the best chance of survival and led to the least immobilising injuries.

You couldn’t help yourself and gave John a quick hug and squeezed him lightly, after hearing him speak about what you were to him, and after experiencing the fright and grief of losing him. You were met with an involuntary wince. That probably felt soul-crushing to him, taking into account that he just fell out of a building. The ambulance finally arrived and they proceeded to bring down a stretcher. You were glad it was over. But something told you this was not the last of the clown you’d see. You thought, I mean… he practically promised you that you’d be seeing him again soon enough.

“I’ll be fine. Just go get some rest.”

He assured you, idling around, not really wanting to leave. He tried prolonging his stay with you before they eventually persuaded him to get onto the stretcher.

“Heh. This time you’re the one sending me off.”

You smiled, wanting to follow but he refused. You weren’t really sure why he wouldn’t allow that, feeling a pang of hurt in your chest. He quickly convinced you that it was too late and you had your own injuries to recover from, not wanting to disrupt the healing process. You were doubtful, but you shrugged away this nagging feeling and tried to take his word for it, mustering a final warm smile on your wary face. Your eyelids were starting to droop. You bid him farewell for the time being and watched as he was whisked away.

You hated to admit it, but your mind was still plagued by that sadistic clown. Your mind raced with questions, and you wanted answers. What did he mean by his parting speech?

You were disturbed from your thoughts as Gordon offered to send you home, but you couldn’t reject his sincere offer. You didn’t want to disappoint him any further. As much as you didn’t like to leech off his kindness, it was the least you could do to repay him with the validation of being able to do something right. You sat in the front seat of the car, preparing to be saddled with desultory conversations on the ride home. However, you realised perhaps things would be different with Lieutenant Gordon. He had a type of heartfelt presence within, and was incredibly perceptive. You rested assured in your car seat. Yeah, he was different.

You heard the revving of the engine after Gordon slammed his front door shut. You stared out the window. The moon cast a buttery glow over the town, dancing in the velvety black-blue sky. The thought of the clown flashed through your mind once again. You closed your eyes, dispelling the cursed imagery. The blast of the air conditioner was adjusted to a pleasant breeze brushing lightly against your neck. Gordon placed his hand on the gear and recalibrated it. He breathed in, turned his head and landed his gaze uncomfortably on you.

“So, you uh, from this town?”

You felt something pleasant blossoming inside of you, being humoured by this awkward attempt at starting a conversation from Gordon. You chuckled lightly. You appreciated the effort.

“Yes, yes I am. What about you?”

You looked back and smiled politely. He stepped on the pedal and accelerated the vehicle.

“Well, no. I moved here some decades ago with my wife…”

You guessed it would do well to get to know more about your partners in crime fighting. You hummed, patiently listening.

Yeah, this wasn’t too bad, you supposed.

Now, if only you could stop yourself from feeling like passing out in the front seat.

That would be great.

###

#joker #Heath Ledger Joker #ledger joker #ledger!joker x reader #the dark knight

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softjeon · 5 years

Text

Better Together

• Pairing: Rapper!Yoongi x Dancer!Jimin • Genre: Fluff • Words: 9,1k | ↳ AO3 • Disclaimer: a bit of anxiety and nervousness / insecurities

written for the ‘Printed Melodies’ Event @yoonminficrec → Prompt: Yoongi’s rap crew competes at a hip hop competition and Jimin is also there as a competing street dancer.

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ “C-can you please close the door again?” Jimin averted his gaze, trying not to be embarrassed by the whole situation. Yoongi ignored the boy’s half-hearted request at leaving him alone and instead furrowed his brows in concentration as he scanned him for real. When he dropped his gaze to the younger’s feet he could see that he was barefoot and awkwardly trying to hide it with the way he was sitting. “Are you crying because those cheerleaders out there stole your shoes?”

It was useless. He was useless. Why did he even think coming here would be a good idea in the first place. The day had started out bad already and it was proving itself to be the worst day Jimin ever had. First, he almost came too late for the sign ins and now he had forgotten his shoes. The most important item a dancer needed. He had been so nervous, anxiety driven all day and forgetting his shoes had been the last straw he needed to tilt over.

Jimin sobbed, burying his face in the palm of his hands and curled in further into the corner of the locker room he had hid in. There were loud noises outside, people passing but no one bothered to look inside these rooms. They had other things to care about, competitions to win. Closing his eyes, Jimin pulled his knees in and leaned his forehead against the cold wall, trying to count to ten and start again. He would be okay. He could practice the routine without shoes. Try it out a couple of times and see if it works or he could just keep hiding in here. Where no one could find him and sneak out without anyone noticing. They maybe would call out his name a couple of times, but then they would just disqualify him.

That was it.

Jimin gasped when the door suddenly burst open, eyes wide in fear and shock alike. Hand pushed over his mouth to keep from breathing too loudly and not make a noise. He stared at the closed bathroom door in which he had locked himself, seeing shoes walking closer to where the sinks were and Jimin held his breath.

The voices of the people outside were still in Yoongi’s head, bouncing around like a pinball machine, over and over again.

‘Oh, I never heard of you!’

‘Who are you again?’

‘Wait, you are a rapper? You are so small I thought you were one of the background dancers’

‘You must be so nervous to be here’

He had smiled and talked and tried to make connections as he knew he should be while his inner tension rose and rose until it was so close to snapping that he just needed to get out RIGHT ABOUT NOW: He burst through the door of the first empty room he could find, growling out his anger and frustration. “Yes, I’m new and I don’t look like the typical rapper and most of you haven’t heard of me I know that so fucking thank you for reminding me!” He kicked against the bench in the room while having no idea that he wasn’t the only one hiding in here.

Jimin jerked violently, a squeal passing his lips in fright, when the man had kicked out and he pressed his palm a little harder over his mouth. It was silent. Only the heavy panting from the stranger audible. Eyes wide, Jimin tried to push himself as far as he could in the corner of the bathroom stall, when he heard the footsteps coming closer.

Yoongi flinched just as hard as Jimin as he had heard the youngers frightened sound. His defenses went up immediately and his heart was pounding when he went over to where he assumed the other person was. He had run out of there to not have any witnesses of his outbreak and now he had been watched, nonetheless.

Couldn’t he have some goddamn peace for five damn minutes!?

Jimin whimpered when the door busted open and stared up at the man that had just ripped the door open angrily, eyes wide and filled with tears. He was about to open his mouth, apologize and tell him to not hurt him when the angry stranger began to shout at him, pouring all of his frustration out on him and all Jimin could do was listen.

“What are you doing in here? Did you follow me? Trying to tease me some more, huh? Do you want to watch me crack under pressure, is that it so you can tell the others that they were totally right about me and that I’m just some tiny stupid no name rapper who can’t even hold his temper before a competition?” Only after he yelled at the boy was his head clear enough for him to really look at him and he saw that the younger’s eyes were remarkably glassy.

Jimin waited for him to finish his rant, confused on why the fuck the other thought that he had spied on him. A tear fell onto his cheek and Jimin hastily wiped it away.

“I...I wasn’t listening in on you and I don’t care who you are,” He whispered, voice sounding croaky from the crying. “Also, I was here first!” His voice broke a little again and he awkwardly smoothed down his team jacket that he wore, even on days where he competed alone like today. Jimin had been the only one who was able to qualificate himself for this competition. Not many were invited to the final rounds, even though many tried from all across the country - dancers and rappers alike. If you made it though, then you had a good chance to be seen by either one of the top managers of the entertainment agencies. And there was a grand prize awaiting for the winner. But even if you didn’t you could get lucky that someone found you interesting enough to pull you out of the many competitors to hand over a card, maybe invite you to an audition. Something Jimin was dreaming about night and day.

“C-can you please close the door again?” Jimin averted his gaze, trying not to be embarrassed by the whole situation. He wished the ground would swallow him whole.

Yoongi ignored the boy’s half-hearted request at leaving him alone and instead furrowed his brows in concentration as he scanned him for real. “Wait - you are one of the dancer’s, aren’t you?” He had seen a group of them standing around before, chatting happily and acting more like cheerleaders on a trip while the rappers were acting all cool and hard-boiled. “Obviously,” Jimin pointed at his jacket where the name of his dance school was printed on and slowly got up. “And you’re a rapper,” He nodded towards Yoongi, noticing his simple outfit.

“What are you doing in here?” Spying definitely wasn’t it and now that his anger had subsided his head was clear enough to realize that it was apparently him who had interrupted the boy’s quiet, not the other way round. When he dropped his gaze to the younger’s feet he could see that he was barefoot and awkwardly trying to hide it with the way he was sitting. “Are you crying because those cheerleaders out there stole your shoes? Is that still a thing between grown up people?” He asked bluntly, ignoring that the boy had tried to hide his tears as well.

“I guess, I have been doing the same thing you did,” Jimin answered and leaned against the cold tile wall, “Having anxiety and getting away from the people and what they are saying.” Jimin smiled faintly, squeezing through the door and over to the sink to let cool water run over his wrists for moment and then washed his face, trying to get rid of the salty tear stains. When he pulled out a tissue, drying it, it still looked swollen and red. Looking down at his feet, Jimin added, “No, they can be mean but not like that…I don’t really need them to be a failure. I do that very well on my own.”

“Sorry that I didn’t recognize your probably awesome dance studio right away, princess. I had a few more important things to handle.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I’m .. I’m not anxious! I’m angry, there’s a difference.” He watched the younger wash his face and then look resigned at his reflection. It went like a stab through his heart when he realized that he recognized the boy’s expression; lot and desperate and full of self-hatred. He had seen it before, many time. In his own mirror. His voice was a little softer when he gently pushed further, “Why, what happened? Did you disqualify yourself?”

“Doesn’t matter what happened and no, I didn’t. I wouldn’t be here if I did. It’s only the finals today.” Jimin said and turned around to the stranger, “While you guys only have one day of competition we already did pre-rounds a week prior. We’re already only a selected group of people who compete today…or else it will take days. Do you know how many people want to be here today? It’s the competition,” A sad smile pulled at the corner of his lips, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“It’s making you nervous, right? You want to prove them wrong.” Jimin bit his lip. It felt good to talk to the stranger, somehow lifting the heaviness around his own heart. He knew that feeling all too well. “And you fear to not be able to show them how wrong they are… I bet you’re really, really good and they just don’t know you, yet.” Jimin crossed his arms in front of his chest, “You’re new and the rappers are always weird with new people. Believe me, they are worse than the dancers…I don’t really hang with the rappers, but some of my friends do. It’s all about being known already…whether it’s through social media or not. And they fear the unknown. They can’t access you, that’s why they want to make you nervous, so you fail, and they can say that you had no confidence or not enough experience.”

It was downright creepy how easily the younger saw through him while Yoongi could have sworn that he was perfect at hiding his own insecurities. He swallowed hard, not sure if he should defend himself - or if that would just make it even more obvious that the boy was right. Also, he was a bit confused as to why the boy was so kind to him. He had barged in, yelling at him and asking him questions and the other was building him up in return. “Th...thank you?” He answered; voice so unstable that it sounded more like a question than a statement. Also, while the other had described Yoongi’s situation pretty much on point he hadn’t told him a single thing about himself which meant that Yoongi could only assume. “So... if you know all this and you aren’t new then why are you scared? You must be good or else you wouldn’t be here. Is your competition that heavy? Is there something other at stake for you than pride?” He figured if the boy knew so much about him it was only fair to even it out.

“It’s my third year i’m competing here,” Jimin sighed, not wanting to say how good or not-good he was but the fact itself that he had made it into the finals three times in a row should be information enough for the rapper, “And you always see the same people with the same choreographies at every competition. You'll get used to it, believe me. Don’t listen to them. And I...I...I’m just nervous.”

He bit his lip, avoiding Yoongi’s gaze and rubbed over his face making it grew paler than it already was. Jimin didn’t want to think about how much of a mess he was. He’d rather hide in the corner again until the competition is over and then find a good plausible excuse for his trainer to tell him that he had been disqualified in one of the most prestige and important hip and street dance competitions. Walking over to the bank, Jimin sat down, startling when it moved as if screws had been loosened from the impact of Yoongi’s kick and the wood would crash any minute now. He froze, eyes wide as he looked up at Yoongi, “That you rappers always have to be so aggressive. They really made you frustrated, huh?” He shook his head and smiled, “I guess, I’ll take the floor again then.”

Sitting down, Jimin pulled his legs in and when Yoongi still didn’t move along or walked out again after a while, he cocked his head aside. He really looked at the stranger, gazing him up and down without trying to be creepy but he only noticed now how nervous the other really seemed. His white hair standing in contrast to his dark attire, cute button nose and lips that were pursed into a pout. He was pretty handsome...and cute. Jimin had to smile, he really wasn’t the usual type of rapper. But neither was he the usual type of hip hop dancer and still both of them were here.

“What are you doing in this part of the gym anyways? Isn’t your competition in the other half? So that dancers and rappers are not mingling.” Jimin giggled, winking playfully at the stranger. Patting the floor next to him, Jimin offered him the floor to sit on, “If you want to be with the outcast though, hide until the competition is over and they disqualify you then you’re welcome to stay here with me.”

“No, I won’t stay here and hide. Actually, I came here to calm down enough to be able to go on stage. Are you really going to let it get to you?” Yoongi cocked his head a little looking at Jimin challengingly. “Isn’t it worse to hide away in here and not even try?”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s stupid but…I forgot my shoes,” Wiggling his toes a little, he looked up at Yoongi, “The most important thing for a dancer…my routine it’s…it’s tricky and I need the right kind of shoes. It’s not like I can lend some. And I’m not sure if I can do it barefoot…the floor we’re dancing on is not made to dance barefoot on it so. It will be a mess. I will be a fucking mess.” Jimin’s eyes filled with tears again and he quickly avoided Yoongi’s gaze. He knew he sounded stupid, but he needed to be the best. He couldn’t fail. He didn’t want to miss one step. Jimin would beat himself up for it forever. “I’m alone here today. I’m the only one out of my team who got a qualification. And…it just got to me. Sometimes it just gets too much, you know?” Jimin looked up with tear filled eyes. “But it’s okay, you can use the room to calm down…I’ll stay here and not say a word. I promise you won’t even notice me.”

Yoongi huffed, “You are definitely very hard to ignore, I can tell you that.” The boy was too pretty and too interesting for that, besides talking to him helped a lot more to calm his nerves than screaming into the void or kicking things. “What shoe size do you have? Maybe you can take my shoes?” He dropped his gaze to Jimin’s feet again and frown when he realized that they definitely weren’t wearing the same size. “Can’t you just try without shoes? I don’t know when you’re on but maybe you could train barefoot in here? If it doesn't work you can still go back to hiding, right?”

Jimin listened, biting his lip in thought while Yoongi was talking, saying out loud what he had thought about before. “I still got time,” Jimin whispered, wiping over his eyes in the process. “Can you help me?” He asked and blinked up. Whatever it was about the stranger, he had lured him in with his calm voice and warm eyes that made him want to try. He had thought about it too. He could still stay inside if it doesn’t work. “I…I’m not very good with judging myself,” Jimin tried a smile, cheeks blushing, “Will you give me an honest feedback then?”

“What?” Yoongi's eyes widened as he blurted out, “I can’t dance!” Before he realized that what Jimin was asking of him wasn't to be his dance partner but just to look at him and his skills without shoes.

“Uhm, sure.” He shrugged his shoulders, feigning nonchalance when in reality the prospect of having this beautiful boy dance just for him here where it was just the two of them had him swallowing hard. Even though they didn’t know each other it felt... intimate somehow.

Jimin smiled and got up, shaking out his stiff muscles and jumped on the spot a couple of times. Rolling his shoulders back, Jimin began to stretch his neck, moving his body just enough to warm it up a little. He had already done a whole warming-up process right before his melt-down, so he deemed this good enough. There wasn’t much time now anyways. “Can you hold your hand up like this please?” Jimin reached for Yoongi’s hand, not hesitant about touching him and placed it just like he needed and then smiled. “I can’t dance without stretching myself first and usually I have someone from my team with me and it’s not as effective to do it against a wall….anyways,” Without even preparing Yoongi further or telling him what was going to happen, Jimin swung his leg up gracefully and placing his foot in Yoongi’s hand so he could help him stretch. “You can pull it up a little higher, please.” Jimin giggled, “Just do it…it won’t hurt me.” With his hands placed on Yoongi’s shoulder, he looked at him with his puffy and still red eyes. “I’m Jimin.”

“Woah!” Yoongi almost took a step back in reflex as Jimin swung his leg at him but instead of kicking him he just gracefully placed his foot over his arm as if he was made of rubber. “How..?” He stood there, absolutely stunned as the younger held his balance and easily bent further showing off his toned leg and incredible flexibility. Yoongi tried not to look but with them being so close and him being way too curious for his own good he let his gaze wander down the boys leg to his ass. His cheeks heated as he thought about what else being this bendy could be good for...

Jimin cocked up an eyebrow when Yoongi wasn’t answering or telling him his name. Letting his leg fall again, Jimin took a step back. “You don’t want to tell me yours? You can tell me your rap name, too if that makes you more comfortable. I just don’t want to call you stranger in my head anymore.” Jimin genuinely smiled, before he simply slid into a split right in front of Yoongi.

“Ah, sorry, your witchcraft here slightly distracted me. You won’t start walking upside down on all fours next, will you?” He joked hiding the truth that he had been distracted. “My name’s Yoongi. My actual name.” He made a little pause to have Jimin realize that he did feel comfortable with him and that he wanted the other to know his real name. “Nice to meet you Jimin. Wait, what did you think about me in your pretty little... oh my god! how can you even do that?” He had seen girls do the splits but the thought alone of landing like this as a boy had him clenching his thighs.

“Witchcraft?” Jimin shook his head and got up again - feeling a lot better now. He could almost blend out the music that came from the inside of the gym, the voice that announced new numbers to step up on the floor. “It’s just a matter of training. You can do it, too. I can show you.”

“Nope, no way, no thank you very much my legs will stay in their natural position,” He was quick to decline Jimin’s offer. There was no way that he would try this without getting himself seriously injured. Which might be a little counterproductive for his ‘swag’ on stage.

Jimin winked at him and added, “Well, what I thought of you was…aggressive rapper, great, one of those again and then I noticed your warm eyes and very soothing voice. And now I think that I like your name.” Jimin took Yoongi by his shoulders and placed him against the wall, before taking a few steps back to have enough room to move. “My warm eyes, hu?” He chuckled, a little bit embarrassed and a little bit flattered. He raised his brow in a silent question when Jimin just moved him, but he went willingly, letting the younger put him where he wanted him to be right now.

No matter how flirty Jimin had been, now he felt anxious again to show it to a stranger, to Yoongi. He wasn’t sure if he could do it barefoot, so the risk was pretty high to fuck up and for Yoongi to tell him to just keep hiding. His heart began to race. “Be honest with me then, will you? There’s no need to lie to me.” Jimin said and took a deep breath. “I can’t do everything here since this room is pretty narrow but…I will do a few moves. Once that I’m not sure I can do on barefoot.” He nodded reassuringly, more to himself than to Yoongi.

Jimin breathed in - and then his body changed. Just like that he became something delicate and graceful, using his arms to elongate the form of his dance move, using his legs to jump and twirl like gravity wasn’t a thing for him. Yoongi knew exactly why Jimin had qualified for this; because seeing him dance made you want to dance as well, because it looked so easy so beautiful, like purest joy formed into motions. When his awe had ebbed down a little for him to actually concentrate on what Jimin had asked him to do he noticed that the younger’s turns were a little bit shaky and that his expression turned a little scared whenever he did a really difficult jump or turn. However, his expression was the only thing that gave away that he was nervous, the turns and jumps still came out beautiful.

At least in Yoongi’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Jimin stopped himself short. Tears were burning in his eyes, clouding his view right away and he only hated himself even more. His lungs were burning from trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to spill over. Taking in another shaky breath, he ignored Yoongi completely and tried another turn. He didn’t even make a couple of twirls before he fell out of it. His hands were shaking when he tried once more, but it was harder to do it on barefoot, having no solid shoes that helped you give the best performance.

Yoongi realized too late that Jimin was spiraling out of control - not in reality but definitely in his mind. “H.. hey, Jimin!” He reached for the boys hands, squeezing both of them as he could see the younger falling into his own mind, the same way he knew oh-so-well from late nights at the studio with nothing but coffee when he had played the same part of his song over and over again until everything felt so wrong and useless that he was ready to rip everything to pieces - including himself.

“Look at me! You did amazing, okay? You might dance horrible from your point of view but people on the outside don’t know how it was supposed to look with your shoes on. They just see what you show them now. And I’m not lying to you if I say that you are a fucking revelation when you dance. It’s goddamn beautiful!” He paused when he notices how used he was to swearing, spoiling the compliments out of habit. “Uhm..,” He awkwardly scratched his head. “I’m sure one could have said that better and more elegantly. But it’s true. I promise. You dance amazing. If you don’t let it show in your face how nervous you are and if you practice those long-ass turns a little more than you’re basically flawless.”

“They will see if I fall out of a turn, though. The jury will know,” Jimin’s voice sounded weak, but there was still a blush on his cheeks from Yoongi’s compliments. “I need something to look at. Usually I look at my dance teacher,” He almost whispered, his eyes flickering around the room nervously. “If my face isn’t right….” Jimin whined, “How am I supposed to smile when all I think about is to nail those turns? I need to nail them, Yoongi! I just have to! They all dance the same shit, the same moves. The jury sees it all day…I want them to know I am different. That I’m worth to be looked at.” His eyes stopped at Yoongi and Jimin could swear his heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Please don’t panic now. You’ll do it, Jimin. Even if you make a mistake if the rest of your routine is gorgeous you’ll still get points. And I’m sure you can find something else to look at. It might be safer to choose a point on the opposite site of the room, something that won’t move like a person’s face could and that will help stabilize you. If you need me to I can make a stain onto the wall if that helps you.” He was only half joking at that.

“A stain?” Jimin chuckled and raised his eyebrows, “They would kick you out…I don’t want that. Y-you have a competition too.” Having his hands in Yoongi’s the whole time, Jimin was now reminded of their contact and the time that was passing. With a gasp, he reached for Yoongi’s wrist looking at his watch and luckily sighed again, not letting go off him. “When it’s your turn? Can you watch me?” Jimin asked bluntly, biting his lip for his straightforward question. Yoongi could just say no. He wasn’t owing him anything, but he was the only one Jimin knew here right now.

“Can I.. uhm, sure, yes I could.. I can do that.” He normally didn’t fluster that easily but how could he stay cool if some crazily talented, lovely and pretty dancer boy who was right in front of his face was looking at him like that while more or less asking him to be the fix point he wanted to rely on for his dance performance in an important competition.

“If I mess up or fail, I give you permission to just kick me like you did with the bench,” Jimin chuckled, feeling a lot more relief now with knowing he knew one of the faces in the crowd. He grabbed Yoongi by his wrist and then pulled him along and – finally – out of the empty locker room and to his own dressing room. “Deal.” Yoongi nodded though they probably both new that he was talking nonsense; would never hurt Jimin no matter the outcome of the competition.

He got flustered again when Jimin pulled him along, right through the crowd of other dancers all while not even letting go of his hand for a second. Jimin ignored the other dancers that looked at the two of them as they burst in (very obviously one of them not being a dancer but a rapper, as they could tell by his competing number). They got stares that Jimin didn’t notice and because Yoongi didn’t want to let go of Jimin’s hand either he jutted his chin forward and pretended to not see them either.

Taking his water bottle and his make-up, Jimin quickly fixed himself up in the mirror as best as he could, before he shrugged it off, “Ah, well I guess whiny and red puffy eyes is my look now.” Yoongi watched Jimin doing his makeup, as quickly and efficiently as Yoongi could only dream of, wishing he could ask Jimin to do his too. “Let’s call it real and vulnerable and leave out the self-bashing okay?”

Turning around to Yoongi again, Jimin couldn’t help but laugh at the way some of the dancers were oozing over the rapper. “They just like you because you’re one of the rappers.” Jimin raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t you say they act like cheerleaders? It’s always the same…the rappers pretend we don’t really exist but secretly drool over the dancers while we…well, they just drool right away.” Yoongi gasped in fake shock at Jimin’s observations and puffed out his chest in an exaggerated show of fake pride before answering, “Drool over dancers? We would never! We are way too cool and smooth and… wait, did you just say you people might be interested too? What does one need to do to get a chance at dating a pretty dancer?” He was teasing Jimin slightly though his spine tingled at the thought of actually dating Jimin for real.

Must be the pre-stage adrenaline talking.

“Sure, they are,” Jimin put on a little bit of tinted lip balm, making his lips shiny and giving them a rosy undertone. He couldn’t ignore the little stab in his heart, when Yoongi talked about dating one of the dancers, maybe he meant even more than one. Maybe he was just like the other rappers when it came down to looking for sex. Jimin nodded over to the other dancers in the dressing room, the ones who kept staring at Yoongi, “Just go over there then and ask. I bet they will gladly give you their phone number.” He shrugged his shoulder and turned around to the mirror again, putting on a little more lip balm. “I need to get dressed anyway.” Jimin smiled faintly, trying not to show that he was a teeny tiny bit jealous at the thought of Yoongi simply ignoring him for superficial (at least in his mind they were or maybe it was just the jealousy speaking) dancers. Getting out a shiny, silver top out of his bag with a sparkly jacket and what looked like leather pants, Jimin sighed. When he noticed that Yoongi didn’t move, Jimin looked at him, hands already holding onto the hem of his shirt, revealing just enough of his stomach for Yoongi’s eyes to drop down. “If you stay though,...ehm, could you turn around maybe?”

Yoongi licked his lips, the answer already on his tongue, something along the lines of ‘why would I go over to them and ask for your number if you could just give it to me directly?’ but he hesitated for a second to long and then Jimin lifted his shirt and his thoughts were just gone. The younger showed off his smooth, flat stomach, shirt riding up enough to hint at his abs. Though what was even more mouthwatering was the little happy trail that lead his eyes naturally down further and further until it disappeared in the hem of his pants and all Yoongi wanted to do was get the fabric out of the way to see where it lead, to get a glimpse of… he coughed when he realized that Jimin had spoken to him but he hadn’t really gotten what the other had said so he just stood there, blinking at Jimin who was still standing there like he was about to strip right in front of his eyes and didn’t know how to react.

“Pardon?”

“Turn around, please.” Jimin blushed a little, holding his shirt in front of his chest now, “I’d like to undress...and…” He motioned for Yoongi to turn and only then did the other react and Jimin could have sworn he saw blushed cheeks. Had he blushed because of him? Jimin quickly pushed that thought back and got out of his pants and into his dancing outfit. “You can turn back now.” He was still securing the belt, fixing the top and then smoothed over the jacket. “What do you think?” He did a little turn, bending over to his feet and turning up his pants that now, without shoes, were a little too long.

“Yeah, that’s.. that’ll go.” Yoongi’s voice was a little too affected for his liking though he couldn’t help it: Jimin looked stunning! Not that he hadn’t looked pretty before but his stage outfit was simply unfair! His pants were a little tighter and so they accentuated his muscular legs. It was almost impossible to keep from staring at them. His shirt had a low cut neckline and gave a hint of collarbone and chest, something that Yoongi was just weak for. On top of it he wore a sparkly jacket that was glittering and shining, making him look like an actual prince. “You look amazing.” He finally confessed, almost a little shy now that he was faced with so much beauty.

“Thank you,“ Jimin averted his gaze, not really sure what to say now and if he should complement Yoongi back or if this was awkward or…

“You’re not bad either,“ He could have slapped himself for that in the face. He had panicked, wanting to tell Yoongi that he thought of him as handsome, too – even without sparkles or a fancy outfit. “I mean…I just…you’re handsome. That’s what I was trying to say ehm…“ Jimin rubbed his neck awkwardly. He was almost relieved when the door opened and a man, holding onto a clipboard was announcing their group of dancers next.

Yoongi burst into laughter, breaking the tension. “I’m ‘not bad’ hu? What a nice compliment..” He felt relief that he wasn’t the only awkward one - and that his interest didn’t seem so one sided or else Jimin wouldn’t have gotten so adorably shy. Before he could deepen that assumption the door opened and Jimin snapped back into focus, body tensing up immediately and so quickly, that Yoongi was afraid the other might have pulled a muscle. The blush on Jimin’s cheek vanished and instead he paled again.

“Hey...” Yoongi reached out for the others shoulder, gently digging his thumb into the hardened muscles until Jimin lost a bit of the tension. “Don’t do that. No overthinking please. You were doing great before; you’ll do great on stage. I’ll be in the crowd so you will have something to focus on and the judges will be absolutely blown away by you. You’ll see, I can predict the future. Those of pretty dancers at least.”

“Why are you so kind to me?“ Jimin whispered, unsure eyes searching for Yoongi’s in a weak attempt to ground himself. Nervously Jimin pulled at his bottom lip. They let everyone else exit first, before Jimin took a deep breath again. “O-kay, let’s do this.“ Jimin didn’t move. “Okay…now.“ Jimin was still frozen, hands shaking. “M-maybe if you drag me outside?“

“Because I want to. And soft people deserve kindness.” He shrugged his shoulders. Yoongi thought of himself as simple. If someone was nice to him he was nice to them back - which also applied for the other direction of course. But Jimin was nice and even though they had a rocky start he liked their way of talking to each other. Unfortunately, even kindness didn’t get Jimin to move so Yoongi did what Jimin had asking him to. Kind of.

“As you wish.” He commented, the only warning that Jimin got before Yoongi bend down, getting an arm under his knees before sweeping Jimin literally off his feet and carrying through the door bridal style. In the hallway he gingerly set him down looking at him with a deadpan expression. “Can you walk the rest, or do you want me to carry you like this on stage?”

“I…I just …wanted to hold your hand again but if you want to carry me everywhere from now on…I’ll gladly let you do so,“ Jimin giggled, the sweet gesture of Yoongi loosening him up again. “Thank you.” Reaching out for Yoongi’s arm he squeezed him lightly, hand falling down to his to interlace their fingers. There was another announcement and Jimin jerked violently. This time, he just took a deep breath and walked ahead, leading Yoongi into the gym and into the crowd of people that surrounded the stage. It felt strangely right to hold hands with the dancer that he had barely known for an hour now. Yoongi allowed himself to think about how amazing it would feel to get to know him even better, to take him out to dates and talk through the night and then hold his hand (or foot just to help him stretch again) but his thoughts were quickly cut short when he felt Jimin flinch again. The boy was so jumpy he felt like there must be some bunny genes in him. He inched a little closer, hoping that his presence would calm him a little (he had been told before that his ‘lethargic appearance was as grounding as a ton of bricks’).

Jimin kept his gaze low when he squeezed through the people and to the left side of the stage where the dancers entered the stage each time their number got called out. They were getting closer to his own. ”Y-you can stay here,“ Jimin said a little breathless as he began to warm up his muscles again. Then he hesitated. Only two more dancers in front of him. “Thank you, really.“ Jimin smiled at him and before he could think about it, the boy leaned in placing a soft kiss on Yoongi’s cheeks and then quickly ran off, while his heart felt like it was jumping right out of his chest – and it wasn’t because of his nervousness.

He waited, jumping from one foot to the other while the music was thumping loudly out of the boxes, but he ignored the other dancer completely. It would only make him more of a nervous wreck to watch how good he was. Jimin only looked up to search the crowd and meet Yoongi’s eyes again until someone stepped in front of his view.

“Number?”

Jimin looked up at the man with the clipboard again, telling him his number quick and then lined up at the side of the stage. Closing his eyes, Jimin inhaled deeply. His stomach churned, heart beating fast and he felt like he was about to faint. And then his name was announced.

“Number 78, Park Jimin, Arts and Dance Company Seoul.” The voice said over the speaker and a gasp fell over the crowd. They were still clapping, but it sounded a little off, as if they weren't sure. Heads were turning as everyone tried to get the best view.

All eyes were on Jimin.

“It’s him.” A young boy next to Yoongi exclaimed and squeezed himself in front of him, eyes wide and mouth opened in surprise. “Who?” His friend followed him close, apologizing quietly to Yoongi when he bumped into him. “The one I told you about! I want to be like him so bad!” He answered and pulled his friend up to the front row so he could see the performance perfectly. To say Yoongi was confused would have been an understatement. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but suddenly everyone around him seemed to talk about Jimin. The boy he found crying in the bathrooms, wanting to quit because he had forgotten his shoes. It just didn’t add up. There were too many voices, too many information’s pouring down on him and he couldn’t process one bit of them as he tried to keep his gaze on Jimin - just like he had promised.

“If he wins this again it would be the third time in a row.” Yoongi shook his head, looking at the man that passed and said it so nonchalantly. But hadn’t Jimin said that it was his third time competing in this competition? That would mean…

“Do you think he’ll give me an autograph?” A what? Yoongi snapped around to that person, whose eyes were shining while they followed Jimin as he walked up on stage. “Why is he barefoot?” Another one asked and Yoongi turned back to Jimin, trying to concentrate on him and solely him. “He lost weight again, right? And he dyed his hair. I loved his pink hair.” Yoongi gulped.

“So, that’s what he looks like,” A group of dancers came closer, all eyes on stage where Jimin was getting into position. “I think he’s overrated. This whole ‘I don’t show my face’ thing is just...” He rolled his eyes. “What even is he trying to keep up with his mystery. He should be showing off, don’t you think?” The other dancer just shrugged their shoulders, crossing their arms in front of their chest. “I think he’s amazing. I wouldn’t hide if I were Park Jimin.”

“Especially not when all of the rappers are drooling over me. Last time, they were all up Taemin’s face because he knows Jimin. You don’t want to know how many asked for Jimin's number. It was so annoying.” His friend chuckled, “What would I give to be him. And he doesn’t even care. He never shows up at the after party.” Their chatter died down and the whole gym hall went quiet when the music started.

All eyes were focused on the stage and on Jimin, whose expression completely changed with the first beat of the music. The unsure gaze was replaced with a dark gaze, smile turned into a wicked smirk as he licked over his lips sultrily. His walk oozing confidence and Jimin raked a hand through his hair, showing off his sharp jawline (the girl next to Yoongi had to hold onto her friend, looking as if she was about to faint). Perfectly timed on the music, Jimin snapped his head around and winked, just right before the beat dropped and the crowd went crazy.

Whoever this was, this wasn’t sweet Jimin anymore.

Jimin was completely gone in his own world, in which he didn’t need to think about insecurities or shoes that he had forgotten but simply dance. His routine had started off with a rough hip-hop beat, hyping up the crowd perfectly when it suddenly changed. Yoongi felt whiplash. The audience was going crazy, when Jimin lost his jacket, throwing it somewhere and then the isolated and fast dance moves were now replaced with something much softer. Jimin was one with the music and Yoongi had never seen something as beautiful as this, recognizing some of the movements he had done in the locker room. He was about to convince himself that this was just a beautiful dream, that something as mesmerizing as this couldn’t exist in the rough world he was living in, maybe he was still in bed and it was the day before the competition, when Jimin’s eyes met his. For a second, the insecure boy was back, searching his eyes to reassure himself and Yoongi smiled.

He was the anchor Jimin needed whenever he was at risk of losing his confidence which luckily wasn’t that often. Yoongi was pretty sure that people who didn’t know Park Jimin, who hadn’t seen him like he had wouldn’t even recognize the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes or the shape of his mouth.

“Ah, I see this is why you’re here,” A familiar voice next to Yoongi startled him effectively as the song faded out. There was silence for a couple of seconds, where Jimin bowed and then the crowd suddenly went crazy. People cheering loudly, but Jimin doesn’t seem to notice it. The anxious gaze was back, a faint, nervous smile and then Jimin turned around. Yoongi’s eyes followed the dancer who hurried off the stage to get some air into his lungs and only then he looked at his friend - Hoseok. “Fuck, man. We’ve been looking for you!” Hoseok nudged his side, “You okay there? I see you found something to get your mind off things?”

“I.. I was just..,” Yoongi cut himself off as he saw the knowing smirk on Hoseok's face. Babbling like an idiot wouldn't convince Hoseok that he had just been ‘chilling’ like he had tried to make it seem. He probably had seen him staring at Jimin in awe already. So, he just shrugged his shoulder. “ I needed something beautiful, so I went to see the dancers. Why were you searching for me? Are you already lost without me?”

“Yeah, do whatever, man. We’re on in thirty minutes, that’s why I’m here. You better be there or Namjoon will behead you.” Hoseok patted his shoulder, cocking up an eyebrow, “You know how nervous Namjoon can get and I don’t want him to accidentally break a microphone. That’s your job to piss of the tec’s. After that there will be enough time to drool over the dancers.” His friend chuckled low at the many memories of Yoongi mic dropping and giving everyone at the venue a heart attack. “So, you coming?”

“Yeah, sure…,” He went along but his eyes weren’t on Hoseok or the direction he was walking, he was looking at the part of the gym where the dancers were mingling, trying to find Jimin and give him a sign that he had to leave. He didn’t want the other to think that he had just run off. Though hopefully Jimin would get it himself that he had needed to change positions and get ready for his own stage.

Jimin had seen Yoongi leave with a weird feeling in his heart. He waved awkwardly but Yoongi had already turned around.

Now he was alone again.

There were people congratulating him, strangers patting his shoulders and Jimin nodded, thanking them politely – but he didn’t want to stay and watch the competition any longer. He wanted to be somewhere else. With someone else.

“Park Jimin?” A man in a suit smiled at him and Jimin bowed in respect, knowing immediately how important that man was when his eyes flickered down to his press ID card hanging around his neck. Jimin looked nervously over his shoulder, biting his lip. He could see the other hall from where he stood. Could hear that someone was beatboxing, people waving their hands to the beat of the music at the rap competition. His heart began to race. He wanted to watch Yoongi so badly.

“Y-yes, that’s me.”

...

Yoongi warmed up his voice with a few casual raps, lines flowing more quickly the longer he rapped. Now that he wasn’t focusing on Jimin any longer he could feel his own ‘stage butterflies’ fluttering in his stomach, telling him that even though he had been on countless stages the nerves still tingled within him at the thought of basically spilling his thoughts and feelings in front of so many people.

Hoseok was rolling his head, jumping on the spot a couple of times. “You’re going to win this.” He kissed Yoongi on top of his head, very well aware that his friend hated this. “If not…I will tell everyone you sleep with a bunny cushion.” The announcer was calling out Yoongi and his opponent, hyping up the crowd and Hoseok smiled. “So, you better win this, baby!”

“You asshole!” He pushed Hoseok, no real venom behind it. He had way too many blackmail material on Hoseok as well so the other would never risk spilling anything if he wanted Yoongi to keep his secrets.

But it was enough to light the spark in Yoongi, the one he needed to spit fire on stage.

…

Jimin took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he leaned back his head. The sun was setting low, dipping the buildings around in a beautiful light and Jimin yawned. It had been a long day, one that had started out awful but turned into something beautiful. Something that made him feel light.

He had made a few mistakes in his routines, movements he needed to work on but Jimin didn’t feel the urge to drive back to his dance studio and do it immediately. Most of the dancers were already out, either back in their homes or hotels to get themselves ready for the night. Jimin had never been interested in the after-show parties. He didn’t care much about anything but dance, actually. At least until today. The doors opened again, and a bunch of people stormed out, some with medals around their necks, some discussing vividly, while others just simply parted ways. Jimin bit his bottom lip, trying to adjust his hold around two cups of coffee he was holding, trying not to lose the bag around his shoulder while also holding on to a trophy. He wouldn’t dare to let anything of it fall. He’d rather let his hands get burned from the hot coffee.

Yoongi was animatedly talking to his friends, all of them still on their post-stage high and with their medals in hand. In the end it hadn’t been enough for first place, but a medal was a medal and it was only pushing Yoongi further, making him want to work harder so that next time they would get the gold medal for sure.

The boys had persuaded him to go with them to the after competition party. Normally he didn’t like them as he wanted to go over their stage again, write new lyrics because he felt so inspired, fixing mistakes, listening to all the new music he had discovered during the competition, that kind of thing. Though he figured that if he went along then maybe, just maybe he had a slight chance of seeing Jimin again. Maybe this time he would be there, too? Speaking of which… he stopped short when he saw the younger standing at the entrance, two coffees in hand (which promptly resulted in someone running into him because there were so many people trying to get out the entrance). Who was Jimin waiting for? Would he get picked up by someone from his dance team? A trainer?

When Yoongi noticed him, Jimin’s heart skipped a beat and the younger instantly smiled at him. He couldn’t wave with everything in his hands, so he waited awkwardly but Yoongi wasn’t making any moves to come closer. He sighed.

“These are getting kind of hot!” Jimin called out for him, motioning to the cup of coffees, giggling softly in the process when it took a moment for it to click with Yoongi.

“Wh...oh!” He awkwardly started moving again into the opposite directions of his friends who were stopping and looking at their conversation with confusion written all over their faces (except Hobi who wore a shit eating grin). “Sorry, I didn’t realize...” He gingerly took one of the cups from Jimin, avoiding the other’s eyes as it suddenly became a little harder to breathe. “I thought you were waiting for a friend.” His gaze trailed down until it landed on the trophy. “I see you won the competition. Again. Your fans must go crazy right now.”

“Who is that?” Namjoon asked, eyes scanning the young dancer and then Yoongi’s reaction, but before he could ask more Hoseok already pulled him along. “Yoongi, you still coming right? Yoongi? Yon-,” Namjoon got caught off by Hoseok who pushed him forward, telling him kindly to shut and let Yoongi be.

“My what? Again? Who told you?” Jimin laughed and shook his head, awkwardly holding onto the trophy. “Yeah, I was waiting for you, actually…” Jimin blushed, “Hope that’s okay? Not weird or anything? I wouldn’t have made it without you, so this is as much yours as it is mine. And I couldn’t say ‘thank you’, yet…so, the coffee is yours.” Averting his gaze, Jimin blinked into the distance, not sure what to say, “I…I saw you. On stage, I mean.”

“Basically, everyone around me when I was standing in the crowd. I learned a lot of things. How you drink your coffee. What you think about after parties. How cute you looked in pink hair.” He was shamelessly teasing the younger just to see the cute flustered expression on him again. It was totally worth it. “Thank you.” Yoongi took a sip from his coffee while trying to figure out how to say that he would have preferred his phone number as thanks without being creepy when Jimin’s added comment had him freezing. “On stage? You mean you watched me…” There was a shy smile stealing its way on his lips and he quickly hid it in the coffee cup.

“Yes, in my opinion you would have deserved to win.” Jimin nodded eagerly, “You were amazing, and you definitely told those people off who made you feel like shit before. They will watch out for you now.” The younger noticed the smile on Yoongi’s face nonetheless and mimicked it. Adjusting his trophy again (seriously, who thought making them so big and obnoxious was a good idea) Jimin pointed somewhere behind him, “Usually, I go back to my dance studio now…work on the mistakes I made and everything b-but I thought…m-maybe, if you want to and are not busy. I could understand if you want to go to the party or something, but I would have liked to ask you if…”

“If…what?” Yoongi’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach again just that this time they weren’t because of a competition. “If you…” Jimin sighed, taking a deep breath, “If you want to come with me? Not for polishing my mistakes but…the coffee machine in our studio is really, really good and if we go up a few floors you have a great view over the skyline.” His eyes flickered nervously as he waited for an answer, heart jumping in his chest.

“Well, I already got some great coffee thanks to a certain someone…,” He tipped his cup a little, “...but how can I say no to a beautiful view?” He let his eyes linger on Jimin, making it clear that he wasn’t talking about the skyline here.

Jimin smiled at the rapper and then leaned in without any hesitation. He just let his heart decide for once. This time he didn’t kiss Yoongi on his cheek but on the corner of his lips. A kiss, barely there, too soft to be true. Then he let his hand fall down to Yoongi’s and took his hand again to lead the way. “I just wanted to say, ‘thank you’ properly.”

Pulling the rapper along and into the opposite direction of where he had initially gone with his friends, Jimin couldn’t help but laugh softly at the rosy blush on Yoongi’s cheeks. “Your friends won’t mind if you come with me instead?”

“Ah, no, they won’t mind.” Yoongi turned back to check on them and saw Hobi waving him goodbye in a nonverbal way of saying ‘what are you still doing here? Go with him - and tell me everything tomorrow!’

“Let’s go see your studio then.” He couldn't wait to get to know even more of Jimin.

A/N: Our second story for the Yoonmin Event :) Cat and I hope you liked it! ♡

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fallout4treasures · 4 years

Text

What’s Worth Fighting For - Ch 1

“Then why are you going?” Ellie asked, standing and following me as I headed towards the door.

“I need his help. And he’s not doing anyone any good gone.”

“You must be pretty desperate. It’s not often Nick can’t save himself.”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

Wayfaring Stranger - Johnny Cash

You’re looking for a man. He can help you. But he ain’t gonna be the man you expect. I’m ashamed to say my fear and rage was leading me back then. Giving an old lady chems seemed so small compared to what I was looking for. Her visions were all I had to go on, and nothing was more important than finding Shaun. I’ve tried to make myself regret it, to let the guilt weigh on me, but I can’t. It led me to the truth. More importantly, it led me to Nick.

I always thought this story started in the Vault. With the death of my old self, and everything I knew. Watching my world, along with the people in it, disappear in a blink of an eye had sparked enough vengeance in me to fuel a war. It should have been enough to be the main plot. Not that it was small, but I guess I’m a sucker for a nice guy with a broken soul. Either way, it turns out this story actually starts at the ballpark. But you should know before you start, in case you hadn't picked up on it already, this was never supposed to be a love story.

The crash of glass filled my ears, pulling me from my deep sleep and sending me sitting straight up. I grabbed my gun from the nightstand and had it readied on the door, taking short and shallow breaths as my brain caught up to my actions. My heart thumped in my ears, with sweat already building at my brow. The shatter was followed by boisterous yelling coated in accents too thick and angry for me to decipher through the wall, but from what I could tell it was only the innkeeper brothers quarrelling.

The air I was holding in my lungs released as did the tension in myself. I let the firearm lay in my lap as I held my face in my hands, counting the seconds as my breathing brought my pulse back down to a regular rate.

I was still grateful the shock woke me. The images from my nightmares were quickly blurring together to the point that they were unrecognizable. If I had to experience them while I slept, at least I couldn’t remember them when I woke up.

My shoulders refused to relax as I rolled out of bed. In fact, my whole body ached from my journey the night before. I should have taken the nearly day’s walk from Sanctuary to Boston more seriously. But it wasn’t the first time I did something stupidly impulsive for the sake of the mission. Certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Ready to leave the musty smell of my rented room behind me, I hoisted my leather armor over my shoulders and fumbled with the buckles as my sweaty fingers continued to tremble. It must have taken me five full minutes to get everything strapped on. And once it was I started to sweat even more, the leather feeling as if it was constricting around me.

Everything about this world, and the anxieties it stirred in me, felt so foreign. It had only been a handful of days since I had unfroze, yet it felt like I had lived weeks in this wasteland already. Time had its own mind here, with every moment full of either danger or needed rest. There was no telling how it would move next.

My days used to start so slow and sweet. Usually with Nate’s warm voice telling me that Shaun was crying. He’d bring him in from the nursery and we’d snuggle around him in bed. Just staring as our son babbled and cooed at us. Listening to the radio, sipping at the coffee on the nightstand. The sun would start to rise and we’d get up with it.

I wish I had wanted it more then. I wish we had begged the sun to stay low just a bit longer. To keep the moment stretched on, and our son beside us. Even if just for a little while. Safe, warm, perfect.

The bittersweet memories stung my chest, causing tears to well up. I quickly pushed them out of my head, but was still left a tired, jittery mess. Unfortunately, this was my morning routine. Battling the visions mixed from the past, present, and my nightmares. At this point, it seemed only one thing could calm my nerves.

“Ah, Viv! Our newest patron. You finally woke up.” The bartender bellowed out with a laugh the moment he saw me dragging myself from the hall of rooms to the bar.

“Good morning, Vadim.” I offered him half a smile as my arms fell to the counter.

“I am sorry about the fighting. My brother and I don’t always see eye to eye… Eh, are you okay? You're as white as a sheet.”

“I’m fine.” I waved him off before pressing my eyes into my palms. “Just looking for something strong.”

“No problem, what’s your drink?”

“Bourbon.” With a stiff nod he grabbed the shot glass from underneath the bar and the liquor with it. The quiet splash of brown liquid made crave the drink even more. I snatched it from its surface and threw it back without bothering to taste it. My face twisted as it burned the whole way down, but the warmth quickly took over and calmed my nerves. “Thanks.” I pulled out the small bunch of caps I had in my front pocket and counted out the payment, plus a couple extra for him.

“Will you be back tonight?” Vadim asked, pocketing the caps.

“Depends on how my day goes.” I gave him a short wave before leaving the grimey, makeshift inn.

The Diamond City I was walking through that morning was much different than the night before. It reminded me of the last ball game we went to. It was right before Shaun was born and Nate surprised me with tickets right behind home plate. Not too far from where I was standing actually, just two hundred years earlier. Who knew a baseball field was big enough for a whole city? If you could call it a city. Smashing a few dozen or so metal shacks inside a ballpark wouldn’t have fit my qualifications before we went under. But so far this was the closest thing I had seen that felt like home. The houses and businesses formed a bull’s eye around the stadium with the Power Noodles bar dotting the center. The Dugout Inn where I was staying was tucked away in an alley towards the city gates and to start exploring I ventured back toward where I had started last night.

“Read all about it! Institute replaces people with machines! Are you next?” A young girl with short, wriley, dark hair announced from her podium. “Hey lady!" Her short arms wildly waved me over, her long skirt flouncing a bit around her pants as she bounced. "You're new, right? All newcomers get their first issue free." She extended the flyer out to me.

"How could you tell?"

"My sister told me to look out for a doe eyed misfit.”

“I am not doe eyed.” I huffed, taking the flyer. I made a face at the girl as she smirked at me. “I’m guessing you’re Piper’s little sister?”

“Most people call me Nat.”

"Most people call me Viv…” I let my eyes fall to the paper, wandering the article aimlessly. It started to catch my attention when a name stuck out to me. “What's the Institute?” I asked her.

“You don’t know about the Institute? Oh, man... ” She rolled her eyes at me. I narrowed mine in return at her. “They snatch people up and replace you with robots." She sighed.

“Do people disappear a lot?”

“How would I know? They look just like us.” She retorted with an eyeroll. I let out a breath, trying to keep my patience.

“You’re a smart kid. I’m sure you know someone who does know.” She pondered this for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“I guess, you’d have to ask the detective, Mr. Valentine. He’s the only one to go to if someone’s gone missing."

“Oh yeah? Where’s he at?”

“Probably his office. It’s down that alley. There’s a sign at the end that shows the way.”

“Hey, thanks kid.”

“Remember what I said about the Institute! You can’t trust anyone.” She called after me as I walked. I waved goodbye and heard Nat muttering under her breath as I walked away. “Give her ten days… max.” I couldn’t help but laugh at this. She gave me three more days than I had given myself.

I followed her directions to the agency, quickly finding the glowing detective sign pointing me to the covered alleyway. Even in the daylight the pink neon ‘Valentine Detective Agency’ sign seemed like it was the only thing lighting the way. A heart shot by an arrow glowed behind the lettering with another arrow pointing towards the dark and narrow corridor leading towards the entrance. Passing the light, I couldn’t help but hear the fortune teller’s words in my mind.

You find that heart that's gonna lead you to your boy. Oh, it's... it's bright. So bright against the dark alleys it walks. Maybe feeding that crazy old lady drugs was worth it after all. I should have written everything she said down, I thought to myself.

The metal door creaked open, and I was sure I would have alerted anyone inside. It was a simple box-y metal and concrete office, but was filled completely with files, papers, and other miscellaneous items that I could only guess were clues to cases. Off to the right, behind me, was a short hall that led to what I assumed were living quarters. Despite the cold look it gave, the agency felt warm and inviting. Across the room young lady in a flowy dress and dark jacket was rifling through files, completely oblivious to me intruding.

“The bills… Oh, forget the bills.” She sighed, mournfully muttering to herself. I decided to make my presence known, and finished walking inside, closing the door with a light slam. I figured I would have startled her but she kept her back towards me, continuing away with her work.

“Hello?” I finally spoke up.

“We're closed.” She told me over her shoulder. My eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

"I don't want to be rude but is Mr. Valentine here? It’s important."

"I’m sorry, the detective's gone." My heart felt like it missed a beat. I couldn’t have gone all this way to be led to a dead end.

"Gone? Gone where?" I asked. She turned to face me, her dress flouncing around her legs. "He was working a case. Skinny Malone's gang kidnapped a young woman and he tracked them down to an old subway station. I told him that it didn't feel right. But he just smiled and walked out like he always does… always did.” As sad as she sounded I couldn’t help but let out a silent sigh of relief. As long as he was alive he could help me find Shaun. It was just a matter of getting to him.

“Couldn’t he still come back?”

“He’s gotten himself into trouble before, but he’s never been gone this long. I never thought the day would actually come where he didn’t come back.”

“No one’s tried to get him?” I asked.

��Who do you send to find the man who finds everyone else?” She walked over to the desk in front of me and sat down in the armchair. Her face was fallen with defeat. I let out a long sigh, realizing I was about to make another stupid, and possibly fatal, decision.

“What’s your name?” I asked her, pulling the bag off my back. I dug around, counting my ammo boxes. After a quick stop at the gun stand in the market I would be set.

“Ellie.” She dried her tears, quickly composing herself.

“Where did you say he went, Ellie?”

“Park Street Station, it’s an old pre-war ruin. Skinny and his gang took it over.”

“Okay, great. I actually remember where that is.” I flung the bag back on my shoulder.

“You’re not actually going after him.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No, you just... you don’t strike me as the fighting type.”

“I’m not really.”

“Then why are you going?” Ellie asked, standing and following me as I headed towards the door.

“I need his help. And he’s not doing anyone any good gone.”

“You must be pretty desperate. It’s not often Nick can’t save himself.”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

My legs were on fire by the time I had reached the Boston common. I had been able to get away with only running across some ghouls and a few rogue raiders before reaching this point, but I was still high on my guard.

Plywood signs along the metal fencing warned me not to wander inside the common’s park. Lucky for me, the hub was just on the edge and no where near the center. The buzz of anxiety kept me on my toes as I made one last mad dash for the station’s doors. The pops and cracks of battle echoed in the distance before they were muted by the heavy metal door shutting behind me. I would usually find this comforting, but there was plenty of danger waiting for me deeper underground.

The temperature fell as I descended down the broken escalator. I could hear talking coming from the next room. I hid behind the doorway, listening in and trying to get an idea of what I was dealing with.

“He’s weak, I’m tellin’ ya. That detective comes snooping around, and what does he do? Just keeps him locked up. He don’t even got the balls to ice some nobody.”

“Keep that shit to yourself. His new girl hears ya and she’ll start swinging that bat of hers until we don’t have no face left.” I could hear them walking and talking through the nearly empty lobby. A few more were lingering around. I didn’t think I would be able to shoot it out. I figured it was time to improvise.

I pulled my pack around to rifle through the junk I had collected until I found a ragged stuffed bunny that I had found in Concord. It was hardly big enough, but it would work. I pulled the seam that ran down its back apart and tossed the stuffing onto the aged tile until it’s torso was hollow. The empty cavity ended up being the perfect bed for a grenade. There was barely enough room to cover the explosive with some of the fluff to seal it in with only the pin being visible. I gave myself a nod of satisfaction. It would do.

I grabbed a couple of caps from my pocket and took a short peak around the corner to get a look. Most of the men were dressed in sharp suits, and some even completed the ensemble with a worn fedora. Most of them carried guns longer than my arm, and probably a lot more experience than I did.

The first cap was grasped in my hand, ready to fly. The metal clanged against the tile. I patiently listened as footsteps approached it. Another toss and the other cap rattle nearby the other.

“H-hey, check this out! Caps keep falling from the ceiling.” One of them called to the others. I was relieved to hear the other footsteps lumber over to the commotion.

“What the hell are you talking about?” My heart raced as they babbled on. My fingers sweated over the circle pin, waiting for the right moment to pull.

“They keep dropping down! Two of them! Look!”

“You’re hitting the chems too hard, bud.” A different voice chimed in.

“I haven’t even had that much! I’m serious!” The grenade clicked after losing its pin. One last good toss and I heard the soft thud of the toy. I covered my ears and braced myself behind the wall.

“What the-” BOOM!

It felt like minutes before I moved. I waited and waited for some sort of response or movement but nothing came. Slowly I stood and entered the now destroyed terminal. The air was heavy with the smell of blood and explosives. Like some sort of crude firework. There wasn’t much that could be recognized, other than the occasional burned cap. I figured it would still spend as I went around collecting them. I came upon the blue scrap of the bunny’s ear, left charred and frayed as I finished up.

“Thanks for your sacrifice, little buddy.” I gave it a small solute before moving deeper into the station.

I wasn’t nearly as lucky down by the tracks. I had to carefully sidestep a few mines as I made my way down. I stopped once the open area became visible. There were around a dozen or so triggermen. I had to be fast, precise, and alert. All things I did not feel confident in. My desperation had led me this far, though. Who’s to say it would fail me now?

I pulled out my pistol, checking the ammo before aiming directly at the back of their head. My finger trembled over the trigger, unable to let go of the fact that this would be the first gunfight that was initiated by me. I gave myself a moment to focus, taking slow breaths to balance my hand. Finally, I pulled the trigger. The first man flopped to the floor with the bang of my gun. Before someone had time to react I quickly aimed at the next one. My arm cuff was grazed as the other mobsters started to react. I ducked my head down as a swarm of bullets flew towards me. A break in the assault let me grab another glimpse of the tracks, and another head shot. It went on like that for awhile until the room finally fell quiet. The air held an unsettling feeling, keeping me frozen in my spot. I shut my eyes and waited for a noise. After several seconds there was a soft shuffle and footsteps. Just one set, but I could hear him closing in on me. He was creeping closer to the wall that protected me. I counted to three, held my breath, and popped up from behind the barrier. Before he could lift up his own gun my bullet flew through his chest.

I tried not to count the bodies as I passed them. I wasn’t close to ready to start processing the amount of damage I had caused. I followed the tracks, and was pleasantly surprised with the lack of security. I was able to stroll through the tunnels, their echoing silence bringing me some peace. Until I reached the last stop anyhow. I could see the tunnels had collapsed on the other side of the room. I slowed my pace and peaked around the tunnel opening. The coast seemed clear enough so I decided to continue on. I thought I was moving silently as I tried to sneak onto the platform.

“Hey! There’s someone here!” I heard a man call out from behind a pillar.

“Shit.” I muttered to myself.

“She’s here for the detective! Don’t let her-” With the pop of my gun I silenced the first goon, and the other dropped shortly after as he stumbled after him.

After a couple more skirmishes I found myself in an unfinished part of the station. Dirt and rock made up the floors, walls, and ceilings. The room was cluttered with boxes and construction equipment. As I ventured in a vault entrance came into view, sitting high on the wall with metal stairs leading up to it.

“A vault. Of course, he ended up in a vault.” Grumbling to myself I hooked my pip boy up to the panel, and pushed the button to open the door. The yellow lights circled as the vault hissed and groaned. The large gear shaped door sunk deeper into the earth before rolling off to the side. The metal bridge stretched out to meet the platform I was on. The familiar hollow step of my boot against the steel echoed as made my first steps in. It opened up to a small room, filled with storage containers. Off to the left was a small hallway, leading deeper inside the vault.

“Who the hell keeps opening the damn vault? Can’t hear myself think.” Someone called from the hall. “Skinny? Darla? S’that you?” The moment he came into view I fired. He cried out and with a limp arm he still attempted to aim his gun at me. Another shot and he was on the ground.

“Are you all this stupid?” I asked his body as I stepped over it.

The further I went into the vault the more the rooms started to blur together. I lost track of how many levels I had gone down, and of how many triggerman I had to put down. I was already desperate to get out of that stupid maze.

The last door opened to the second floor of the atrium. Below tables were sprawled out like a cafeteria. On the other side of the room, on the third level, a balcony overlooked the hall with a large circle window showing the office behind it. Yet another gangster stood in front of it, looking and talking to someone through the glass.

“How ya doin’, Valentine? Ya hungry, wanna snack?” He teased his prisoner. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I found him. At least I could say I got this far. I could hardly hear the murmur behind the glass, but the words became more clear as I lurked closer to the stairs leading to the upper floor.

“...gives Malone more time to figure out how he’s going to bump you off.” The detective’s voice finally became clear as I reached the stairs, taking each step slowly enough to keep my boots from rattling against the metal.

“Don’t give me that crap. You don’t know nothing.”

“Oh really? I saw him write your name in that black book of his. Mumbling something about a ‘no-good, lousy, card shark’. Then he struck it off three times.”

“Three times? That’s not funny.” The guard itched around where he stood, obviously troubled by what the other man was saying. Once on the higher platform I hid before the doorway leading to the balcony.

“Gotta guilty conscious, Dino?”

“Shit… I gotta fix this, fast!” Dino was in such a rush that he blew right passed me squatting in the corner without noticing me. Another shot rang out through the atrium, as did the thud of his body.

“What was that? Who’s there?” The detective called out once the echo finished. I followed the voice to the window, only seeing a shadowy figure inside the office. “It’s not going to take long for them to realize he’s not coming back. Get that door open.” He gestured towards the terminal at the end of the balcony. It all seemed to happen so fast then, so meaningless. Even with Mama Murphy’s visions I had no idea I would be walking into a moment that had been written into fate a long time before then.

The door opened and I strolled inside the dark office, ready to grab him and bolt. The glow of his yellow eyes pierced through my thoughts, leaving all of my previous thoughts behind.

“Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario.” He commented. With a flick of his metal wrist he fired up a match to light the cigarette hanging from his mouth. The flame that was brought to his face gave the first glimpse of the exposed framing beneath his cheek. “Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?” His voice struck a chord in me, somewhere that I thought was dead.

“Would you rather stay here?” I asked. He raised an eyebrow at me. Taking a drag of his cigarette he stepped forward into the light, giving me a better look at him. His synthetic grey skin had definitely been through plenty through his years in the Commonwealth. Despite his experience even his subtle smile felt warm to me.

“No, but you’ll have to forgive me if I’m wary of walking into another trap.” He retorted. I conceited with a nod.

“I need your help. But, I’m a lot better at explaining when I’m not in an old vault surrounded by blood-lusted mobsters.”

“Fair enough.” He pulled his pistol from his holster and readied it. “Well, what’s your name?”

“Viv.”

“Just Viv?”

“Vivian-...” I hesitated, suddenly unsure if surnames were even used anymore. Judging by his inquisitive stare he was waiting to hear mine. “Becker.”

“Great, I’m Nick… Valentine.” His lips curled into a cheeky smile behind his cigarette. “I’m actually able to say I’m pleased to meet you. Although, I probably would have been pleased with anyone who rescued me from this place.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be. Not many people would have been able to get to me. I’ve been stuck

down here for weeks. Turns out the kidnapped girl I was trying to rescue wasn’t kidnapped at all. She’s Skinny’s new flame, and she’s got a mean streak.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

I let him lead us back out into the atrium. He seemed to know his way, and I was done figuring this maze out. I was happy to mindlessly follow after days of strategically planned movements.

I never imagined how much easier getting through a small army of mobsters would be with a partner. We blew through rooms as if we had trained together before. I could almost let my guard down. Even so, the vault went on for ages. We would think we were close, only to find another staircase leading up closer to the surface. Finally, after what felt like dozens of goons and staircases we finally made it to the final locked door.

“Do you think he’s in there?” I asked him as he went to work the terminal that held the door shut. “He could have run off.”

“No, he’s there. I can hear his fat footsteps from here” Nick murmured as he typed away. I was fascinated with the way his fingers moved, specifically the exposed metal ones, moved. Fluidly, and with intention, despite the fact that they were controlled by a computer themselves. “I’m not really sure where Skinny’s temper is these days. Stay alert in there.” He broke me from my thoughts. My heart thunked in my chest so loud I could feel the ripple in my entire body, the beat hammering in my ears. It was moments like these that I completely forgot why I was there. I wasn’t a soldier, that was my husband’s job.

“Ready?” He asked, cocking his gun.

“Ready.” I lied.

The door opened with a hiss. The next room’s light only illuminated Nick’s captors and what was left of their crew.

“Nicky, what do you think you’re doing?” A portly man in a sharp, black tuxedo called from inside the room.“You just come in to my home and start killing my guys? How could you do this to me?” Next to him a tiny porcelain doll of a woman with a shimmering, cool colored, dress wielded a baseball bat. They both watched with a smirk as the remaining triggerman aimed their weapons at us when we approached.

“You should tell that dame of yours to write home more often. I wouldn’t be here if her parents weren’t looking for her.” Nick said. I could see the detective nervously eyeing the room after he spoke. We were surrounded, and I was suddenly very aware of the large amount of sweat I was producing.

“What’s the matter, Valentine? Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? That why you needed your lady friend to come save you?” The woman cackled, her bright red lips stretching across her face. Her nearly flawless features should have stunned me, but I couldn’t get over the crazed look in her eyes. Even when she wasn’t looking at me I could feel her stare. “I told you, we should have just killed him! Now he’s sent this one to rub us all out.” She hissed. “Darla, I’m handling this!” Skinny scolded. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, tucking the bat into the crook of her elbow.

“Sure, you’re handling it. Look how that turned out. You got all sentimental. All that stupid crap about the ‘old times’.”

“Darla, please!”

There’s… an echo. I found Mama Murphy’s words rolling around in my head again. I tried to push them away, staying on alert, but they forced their way in. Something in the past that can help you. When you meet the fat man and the angry woman… It finally clicked with me. I couldn’t believe that drug addicted, old, broad really wasn’t crazy.

“W-wait!” I was only half-expecting anyone to hear me, but as I spoke everyone’s eyes turned to me at once. My heart kicked into a new level of overdrive that I didn’t even think was possible. “Skinny… remember- remember the Quarry, a-and Lilly June on the rocks.” I couldn’t even hear myself speak. Everyone, including Nick, just stared in silence. Did I screw it up? Did I even say anything? Was I already dead?

“What?” The mob boss finally spoke, dumbfounded as his arms, and his weapon, dropped to his side.

“Um… remember the-”

“Shut up, I heard you.” He stopped me with a wave of his fat hand. His brow furrowed in thought, scratching at his face as the two brain cells he had bickered back and forth inside his head. Nick shot a look at me, silently asking what the hell I was thinking. I gave him a short shrug, not letting my eyes leave Skinny’s hands. The second they even twitch towards his gun and I would be ready. “Alright. Alright, fine. I’m going to give you ‘til the count of ten. After that then the old days are dead, and I see your faces again then you will be too.”

“Skinny, what are you doing? Kill them!” Darla shrilled, stomping her feet around like a spoiled child.

“No, Darla. Skinny Malone is putting his foot down. They get one chance to leave.” Darla’s face twisted with disgust. Her wooden bat clamored on the tile as she tossed it aside.

“My mother was right. You mobsters are all talk.” Without missing a beat, she turned on her heel and started walking into the shadows behind them.

“Babe, where you goin’?”

“Home. I don’t need you and your fat ass weighing me down anymore.” She called behind her shoulder as she sauntered out the back. The boss watched with his jaw left open, his head following her until she disappeared. He whipped around to face us, his eyes wide with pain and frustration.

“ONE.” Skinny growled through clenched teeth. His sausage fingers gripping his gun as he aimed it at us.

“Time to go.” Nick grabbed my hand and pulled me passed the small crowd to the back.

“TWO.” Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see how the far side of the room was cluttered with totes and boxes. It led to a wide hallway that led us further away from the scene but you could still hear the mobster’s voice booming behind us.

“THREE… FOUR… FIVE.” I could tell the boss was getting impatient as he sped up the countdown. “SIX.”

“This way, there’s a tunnel. It’s how I got in.” Sure enough, almost tucked away in the corner, was a ladder heading straight for the surface.

“SEVEN.” The stomps of boots started to approach as we clamored up the metal rods. At the top was a stone sewer cap. I struggled to push it open, hooking my leg around the ladder for balance as I used my whole upper body to shove the thing open.

“EIGHT.” Fresh air cascaded from above as the cap moved aside. I crawled out from the sewer hole and simply rolled aside so the detective could follow.

‘NINE.” I heard the last of Skinny Malone’s voice as Nick sealed the cap once again.

“Jeez, you’d think an old-school mobster who just got his heart stomped on would be more forgiving.” I chortled, staring up at the night’s sky. Nick gave a surprised chuckle. I could feel his eyes on me but it was easy to tune it out this time. Laying on the asphalt I let the crisp breeze relieve my body of its sticky sweat. I focused on my breathing, the rise and fall of my stomach. I was actually alive. “That was quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Saving me?” I nodded, and he laughed again. “You mind telling me why you did? Or who you are?”

“I told you who I am.”

“Oh, c’mon.” I couldn’t help but giggle again at his frustration. I finally sat up, leaning back onto the palms of my hands.

“I went to your agency and your secretary said you were missing. You weren’t around to save yourself so I told her I would.”

“Okay, but why?” I curled my legs in to sit criss-cross, struggling to find the right words.

“I need your help… I’m looking for someone.” I picked at the skin around my finger nails, but kept eye contact with him as I spoke. He extended his metal hand out to help me up.

“Well, I’d say you’ve earned the right to tell your story.” Once I was back on my feet I brushed some of the dirt of pebbles off of my hands and jeans. “Let’s head back to my office. You can get a chance to unload your mind.” He said it like it was a good thing. The idea of voluntarily remembering what happened sent a spike of anxiety through my whole body. We had a decent walk back though. Plenty of time to think of ways to put it off.

It turns out Nick was an excellent travelling companion. Usually I enjoyed the still silence but listening to his stories of ‘the old days’ was both intriguing and hilarious. He talked about the cat and mouse chase that ensued between him and his old friend, Skinny Malone. There was something familiar about listening to him. Somehow it felt like a little window to before the blast. Even though he was recalling memories that had only happened some years before then, it felt like he was talking about the streets of Boston as it was two-hundred years ago.

The strangest mixture of dread and relief washed over me once we made it back to Diamond City. I almost got myself killed trying to get to this point, and yet part of me wished it had killed me. It sounded better than reliving what happened.

The town was silent under the midnight stars, so different from how I had left it. The occasional guard popping out from the shadows to patrol the market. Walking through, we would grab their attention but I noticed once they saw Nick they weren’t bothered with us anymore.

Back at the agency, the detective stepped in tentatively, I’m sure not to startle his secretary who was most likely sleeping.

“El, you here?”

“Nick?” I watched him smile as there was a sudden shuffle of footsteps from the private quarters. He silently invited me in, shutting the door behind us. Ellie came running in from the hall, her eyes obviously sleepless. “Oh my god, you’re alive. You’re actually here.”

“Try not to be too disappointed.” Nick said with a smirk. She ran over and embraced him, and he accepted it warmly. He gave her head a fond pat after breaking their hug. I noticed the tiny tears that had formed in her eyes. She wiped them away before they had the chance to fall. Suddenly her face turned into a scowl as she crossly set her hands on her hips.

“I told you it was a trap. You could have died.”

“A trap would mean they knew I was coming. They just got a lucky shot.” They bickered like that for awhile. In the meantime I let my bag fall off my back and onto the ground. I plopped onto a nearby chair, that had definitely seen better days. It was still a relief for the throbbing soles of my feet.

At first I tried to follow their conversation, but my brain would start to phase the sound away and replace it with emptiness. A quiet nothing feeling embraced me, where the only thing that was being processed was the sight of the robot moving from one paper stack to the next.

At some point Ellie stopped and pulled me from my trance to thank me and I believe I responded politely. She disappeared to bed some time after that, but I didn’t notice. I was back in my disassociation, my eyes only tracking the little movement in the room.

The flow of Nick’s patched trench coat. A scratch on the back of his neck. I wasn’t sure if I was even awake anymore. It was oddly satisfying, like meditating specifically on the moment.

“You’re staring.” The detective’s voice rang in my head before I realized he was actually speaking to me. He had sat down at the desk in front of me, and pulled a screwdriver from one of the drawers. “Have you ever met a synth before?” He asked as he started fiddling with some of the screws in his exposed hand.

"Oh, uh… no, but that’s not- uh…” I attempted to rub the sand out of my eyes but it was useless. I dropped my hands into my lap and sighed as I looked back at him. “Sorry. I'm just tired. I should head over to the Dugout and let you settle in. We can meet up in the morning." When I rose from the chair it felt as if I had spent all day there. Every joint in my body ached, begging for a proper rest.

"You could. Or you could use my bed tonight if you want." His statement actually woke me a bit from my state.

"You want me to sleep in your bed?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't have to. I don’t sleep so it’s not like I use it. I figured it would save you a few caps, and I thought I'd offer since you saved my life and all." I gave a soft laugh. The idea of walking just a few steps to a bed, as opposed to across the diamond, did sound appealing to me.

"You don't even know me. I could be some sort of con artist."

"I'll have to keep a close eye on you then, won't I?"

His bed, bedroom area, was up on a loft above Ellie’s. I climbed up the ladder quietly as she slept. My leather armor was shed to the floor, along with my blue flannel overshirt and heavy brown boots. I crawled onto the mattress and curled up happily under the light blanket. I don’t even remember closing my eyes. My mind just drifted back into the peaceful blackness.

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