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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"-"And you better not start now"

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Genre: smut with a saltbae of fluff

Warnings: alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, swearing, bit of dom! JK, biting

Summary: Upon entering the club you come across a familiar face. Turns out your laundry adventures were not over. Who knew that clean laundry could lead to dirty talk?

Word count: 6.5k

rating : 18+

A/N: Massive thank you to @bangtanhome for not only being my beta but also my support and making this whole thing a polished princess. Thank you Moon so much for taking the time to edit and thank you for listening to me whilst I complained about this. And most importantly massive thank you for giving me pointers. This is my first piece of nsfw writing and I was extremely unsure about putting it out there but you’ve literally been an angel and were patient with my unsure self whilst also making sure you made this readable <3 -I also would like to thank my soulmate and best friend for putting up with me and dying in the process of reading a fic about her bias. I will warn that i massively sleep deprived at this point but i wanted to get this out with the occasion of the Muster 2021 so here she is!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Fuck. You’d overslept. You weren’t panicking because you were going to be late; you were normally late anyway. But as soon as your eyes opened, you felt the grogginess that comes with sleeping a bit too much. Your body felt sluggish, joints throbbing and your mouth feeling like you've stuffed cotton balls in it. Feeling like you've been through a survival show, you know it'll take at least an hour for your body to wake up properly. However, you didn’t have time to let yourself slowly come to. You were already late. Any later than this and you may just as well stay home for the night- and go back to sleep. You reveled in the thought for a second, but no. Your friends were impatiently waiting for you to go out clubbing with them. And most importantly to lend them your car. You knew that only because they have called and messaged you incessantly for the past hour reminding you of it. You were thankful at least that you were not the designated driver for the night. Normally you’d draw straws and this time you had got lucky, you could drink as much as you wanted.

‘Good lord Y/N get your ass out of bed,’ you hyped yourself up and just like a bandaid, you ripped yourself from your covers and rolled out of bed. Landing with a thud you groaned upon impact. That was going to leave a bruise.

After a quick shower to get the cobwebs cleared off your mind, you put on a dress. You didn’t wear dresses normally, your wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and various tops. To be tightly encased in a dress that was a bit too short for comfort made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew that as soon as you had some alcohol into you, things would change. A loud knock at your door told you that your friends had finally arrived so you hurriedly grabbed your purse and keys and were out the door. You hesitated for a moment, the feeling of having forgotten something weighing on your mind. When you couldn’t figure out what it was, you decided that it must not be important. Plus, your friends were waiting; time to get the show on the road.

As soon as you entered the club, the heavy smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol hit your sensitive nose. The atmosphere was too loud and obnoxious for your sober brain. To remedy that, your friends decided to stop by the bar first and buy a round of shots to get the night started. With the burn of the alcohol running down your throat, your confidence levels increased. The dress didn’t make you feel uncomfortable anymore, instead you prowled around, your hips moving to the beat. You were aware of the lustful stares that you were receiving and you thrived off of it. Tonight you were on the hunt, ready to let loose after the stressful week full of exams.

“Hey, Y/N. Muscle at 12 o’clock has been giving you the look more than a couple of times,” your friend leaned in to make themselves heard over the loud music. “Try not to be obvious, but I'd say he’s a 10.” You nodded in acknowledgment running a finger over the rim of your glass.

“He’s looking away now, look look,” they nudged you, forcing you to turn around. In all honesty, you weren’t interested in going home with anyone. You were simply enjoying the admirative stares and the smouldering gazes that were thrown your way, but you had no intention to take any of them home with you. However, when you turned around, you were faced with the impossible task of reconsidering. The back of the man your friends' pointed out was indeed muscular, broad and strong, you could see the muscles popping underneath the black shirt he wore. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up to his elbows, allowing a full display of tattoos on his right arm.

Normally you would have second thoughts about a person like that, but there was something about his demeanour that drew you in even without seeing his face.

The handsome man motioned to one of his friends and his whole body shook with laughter. Observing the way the shirt strained against his muscles you licked your lips involuntarily. For a second you thought he looked strangely familiar, and before you could convince yourself you were being paranoid, he turned his head to the side to entertain the person to his right.

The messy mop of hair, defined jawline and that bridge of the nose they all belonged to the laundry boy - Jungkook. You smirked, “I’d give it a 15 actually”. As soon as you said that, he threw you a glance, his smile wavered as he made eye contact. You felt satisfied at the recognition in his eyes.

You slowly turned back to your friends, certain he would come to you. It took him the entirety of the time you took to finish your drink to make his way towards you.

“Don’t look, he’s coming.”

“Oh, he will be,” you smirked, eyes twinkled with excitement as your friends laughed at your slurring words.

Jungkook had noticed your enticing figure entering the club from the very beginning. It was as if a magnet pulled him towards you. He recognised you as soon as he laid eyes on you. How could he not? The cute girl from the laundry room in the daylight turned into an alluring vixen during nighttime. His eyes were drawn to your hips, the curve of your back and the tempting strip of skin he could spy; they were enticing to him. He tried his best to focus on the way your eyes sparkled in delight when one of your friends would make a joke, but when you ran a finger over the rim of your glass tracing delicate patterns, he felt your siren pull.

You smelt him before you felt him, the subtle vanilla enveloping your senses overpowering the scent of sweat from around you. He stopped right behind you, with one hand on the stool next to you; not completely encasing your form, but close enough that you could see his jawline in your periphery. Leaning in under the guise of ordering a drink from the bartender he pulled the stool and sat down. He didn’t address you at first, patiently waiting for his drink, his long fingers tapping the counter in rhythm with the beat. You tried your hardest not to stare at his hands, the art on them fascinating to you: the doodle style art accentuating his knuckles and the veins running tracing all the way up to where his skin hid beneath his shirt. You tried to keep a poised front, talking to your friends as if he was not there, but you could feel the heat of his stares from time to time, goosebumps forming on your skin.

You knew your friends were getting drunker and drunker as time passed, but you’d underestimated them. Soon enough they each scattered around the surface of the club looking for a dance partner. Your friend left you in charge of the drinks they ordered, winking at you suggestively as they left. That meant you were alone. And judging by the way your skin prickled, Jungkook was still seated next to you.

“A gin and tonic, please,” he ordered another drink. You realised now would be the perfect time to not only talk to him, but also repay him for earlier. As the bartender presented him with the bill you turned around and smoothly presented your card to him. “Make it two on the same tab.” you smirk, winking at Jungkook when your eyes met his.

You heard Jungkook laugh at your brazen attitude and you had to admit to yourself, if not for the alcohol you’d had earlier, you would’ve probably walked away. You made direct eye contact with him and smiled.

“Nice to see you again, laundry boy,” you smirked. Jungkook looked taken aback for a second. The image of you in the laundry room is completely erased. What he saw in front of him now was an alluring woman, sure of herself and what she wanted. And she made it clear that she wanted him. Hiding a smirk behind his hand he leans closer to you, his breath fanning the hair stuck at the nape of your neck.

“It’s Jungkook, not 'laundry boy',” he yells over the music. Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I know, but it is fun to tease you - Jungkook.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in delight. He's caught onto what you were doing and he was ready for it, two could play at this game.

“What’s your name?” You were half expecting him to pull a bad pick up line, the earlier impression that you had of him still engraved into your mind. When he didn't, you smiled, hiding your satisfaction. Maybe he really was worth a 15 and not a 10.

“What, no ‘I didn’t catch it’? No ‘I bet it hurt’? I’m offended, do I not deserve a bad pick up line?” you grinned at him and he burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through you making a shiver run down your spine.

“You got the drinks, pretty girl, there’s no way I can use a pick up line now,” you started laughing earnestly. He was definitely not what you had expected. The muscly tattooed facade was clearly done just for the purpose of aesthetics, and not because he slotted right in with the rest of the douches.

“Fair play, but I did say I was going to pay you back earlier,” you gesture with your head as if to point out which earlier moment you meant.

“I see. This is how you intended to keep your word then” Jungkook said just as the bartender places the drinks in front of you both handing him something. “But as it happens, I am a step ahead of you” he waved a card in front of you. His satisfied smirk made you pause flustered. Realising he’s already given his card to the bartender earlier you blushed.

“That’s not fair, laundry boy” you pout. “Now I have to find another way to repay you” you fumbled with the card the bartender handed over to you struggling to place it back in your clutch.

“I am sure we can find other ways” you paused looking at him. Under normal circumstances you would have found that to be incredibly off putting, but noticing the way he scrutinised you so intensely, no hidden message behind his smoldering gaze you squeezed your thighs together a wave of heat enveloping you.

You took a sip of your drink to mask the deepening blush and cleared your throat. You knew that if you gave him your name you were in for the ride. “It’s Y/N” you took another sip, savouring the taste of the alcohol.

“What?” Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to hand him your name so freely.

“It’s Y/N” you yelled louder and leaned into him thinking he hadn’t heard you because of the music. The waft of your perfume clouds his senses, the smell of cotton and lilac enveloping him. Needing to be closer to you he chanced it and asked you for a dance.

You finished your drink with a gulp and nodded your head. You grabbed his wrist and started making your way through the mob of people. Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at the way your hips swayed to the beat and when you threw him an alluring look over your shoulder he couldn’t help but be lost. He felt like a puppy following your sultry form through the crowd.

You finally stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, your moves more accentuated following the beat of the music. Jungkook stopped a few inches away from you, unsure whether or not he should place his arms around you yet.

You stepped closer to his body, your movement predatory. “Come on laundry boy, you can do better than that. Think of this as part of the payment” you winked at him. You could see the shift in his eyes, a flash of something heavy across his face, his demeanour changing in an instant from uncertain to commanding in a second. He gripped your waist tightly and pulled you flush against him moving along with the beat.

For a second all you could feel and smell was him. His domineering attitude instantly turned you on with the silent promise behind it. “Oh, this is just the beginning” he moved his hands so that his arms encased your waist intending to savour the feeling of you against him. Fully intending to see where this night ended you hooked your fingers into his belt, your bodies so close together they melded into one.

“Bring it on lover boy.”

The oppressive atmosphere of the club was enough to cloud all your senses. The alcohol running through your veins made you braver than you would have ever been. The smirk Jungkook threw at you was almost tantalising. Inviting you to commit sin. And the thought of tasting his lips and running your hands through his hair whilst his breath fanned over your throat was mouth watering. You’d been skirting around each other for the whole night, laughing, drinking, talking, but most importantly eyeing each other up. The last straw for you was when a rogue drink came flying out of nowhere and drenched the two of you. The liquid mixed with his sweat and snaked its way from his temple down to his jaw. You watched as the drops ran lower and lower as if directing your gaze towards his chest. Swallowing thickly you knew that you were a goner. If he’s ask to fuck you right there on the dance floor, you would surrender instantly.

Smirking at your lust filled expression, Jungkook knew he had you where he wanted. He had been staring at your lips for the whole night, entranced at the way the plumpness was enhanced by the sheen from when you’d run the tip of your tongue over them. He was mesmerised. He could also imagine that tongue running over his- he tried to stop himself there, aware that he’d get hard if he kept going in that direction. He could already feel the strain against his pants.

“Another drink?” he offered, and you shook your head at him. Another drink was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was him, to kiss you until your lips were raw and to pound into you senselessly until you could hardly remember your name. Were you drunk enough for this? Probably not, but you did not care for once. You wanted to remember this.

Leaning closer to you with the excuse of the loud music, his breath fanned the nape of your neck and the sensitive shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Then what would you like, love?”

There it was, the thousand dollar question. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath in you looked him straight in the eyes with determination. It made Jungkook shiver. You looked fierce and incredibly alluring. It took all the strength he had in him to not shove you on top of the bar and kiss your brains out. “Tell me?” he coaxed you.

He knew what you wanted. You had been obvious for the whole night. But so had he. Throughout your conversation you were undressing each other with your eyes. You noticed the way he couldn’t keep his eyes away from your ass when you would lean over the bar to ask for one more round of drinks.

Under normal circumstances, that thought would have made you nervous. This time it gave you the courage you needed to let yourself go. To switch from being the player to the one played. And if he was the one doing that, you didn’t mind one bit. “I want you” you bit your lip and looked at him from under your eyelashes. His eyes darkened with lust. Mind clouded with desire, he grabbed your wrist tightly and without a word started making his way through the crowd. The roar of the drunken crowd, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and the feel of sticky bodies bumping into you didn’t matter anymore. All your focus was on the way his back muscles moved with every turn of his body. Suddenly a flash of the same back muscles, naked, moving as he towered over you and thrust his hips into yours made your stomach clench and you could feel your panties getting damp. God you wanted him so badly.

Jungkook could see your wistful lust-filled eyes becoming hazier and he sped up the pace. He finally stopped when he reached an empty corridor near the back exit. He would have liked to have more privacy than that, but something about making you beg for him in a public place made his cock twitch in anticipation. He really needed to get a hold of himself otherwise he’d be done before you’d even started.

He tugged at your wrist and lightly pushed you into the wall, he would have taken things a lot slower but your gaze told him to hurry up and take you then and there. And who was he to deny you?

His eyes raked over your body, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Beautiful”. Even though he craved to taste you, he took a moment to appreciate the way your eyes glistened with passion, your chest heaving along with your breaths and your perfume clouding his senses. He wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

A fistful of your hair in his hands, he pulled you flush against him, until all you could feel were the hard planes of his chest and his hardened member poking at your abdomen causing you to moan, your panties getting wetter.

You whimpered at the sensation as his fingers gripped the sensitive hairs at the back of your skull, goosebumps forming on your skin in anticipation. Expecting him to attack your mouth with the same hunger that was displayed in his eyes you leaned more into him.

You silently begged him to release the coil that had formed in your stomach but he wanted you to beg. His breath fanned the pieces of hair that fell onto your face. The last rebellious piece of you that refused to fall into his clutches. In a desperate attempt to get him to kiss you, touch you - do something, you grabbed tightly onto his biceps relishing in the feel of the muscle tensing underneath your fingers.

“You’re not playing fair laundry boy,” you huff, feeling frustrated over the lack of contact. His laugh, dark, deep and lascivious sent a shiver down your spine.

“Baby girl, that’s not my name” his free hand clasped onto your waist squeezing hard enough to send a jolt through the pit of your stomach all the way down to your heated core. “Jungkook” you whimper and in a last attempt you hook your leg around his thin waist.

“That’s it baby” he lowered the hand on your waist towards your thigh, his fingers leaving an indentation in the skin. Seizing the opening you started grinding your core onto his thigh trying to relieve the ache. His lips ghost over your neck in a tantalizing way, his tongue sweeping over the nape briefly tasting your saltiness. The sensation of his warm tongue on the exposed area of your neck followed by the coldness from the air makes you moan. You could smell his perfume, combined with the musky scent of his sweat and alcohol made your head swim in delight.

“Jungkook, please” , you exposed your neck to him needing more. Rolling your hips into his thigh you could feel the blood pumping underneath your skin, the pleasure overshadowing any rational thought. The friction between your clit and his pants left you breathless, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter ready to unfurl. All of a sudden Jungkook stepped a few inches away, and you lost contact with his leg. Robbed of your release, you instantly whine.

“Mmmm, I can't have you cum on my leg, as much as I would like to see you ride it out on your own. I need to taste you.” he demanded. The hand still supporting your leg inched closer and closer to your dripping cunt. Slipping a cold hand under the hem of your dress his fingers made contact with your heated core causing you to jerk. You yelped, your hips bucking into his hand. Your hands latched tightly onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into them in an attempt to steady yourself. He cupped you through your panties, the heel of his palm pressing into you. Muffling a moan into his shoulder you begged him to touch you more, but he retracted it away from your tender flesh.

“Nuh-uh not yet.” The hand pinched your thigh and you tried not to cry at the feelings bubbling up inside you. You were frustrated and horny, and his taunts were enough to make you crave for more.

“Laundry boy” you warn, staring him dead in the eye.

“Y/N, what did I say about my name” he pulled at the hair he still gripped tightly in his hand. Cradling you close to him he bucks his knee into your core, this time freely offering the friction that you had been yearning for. You whined, the lewd sound echoing in his ear. Your clit on fire, you pressed yourself more into his knee.

“That’s it, moan for me with those pretty lips” gaining a bit of self control you decided it was time for you to step up your game.

“Do you not want to see what else these pretty lips can do?” you licked your lips, your heart racing. Your hooded eyes suggested more than Jungkook would have expected from you.

“Dirty girl” biting his lip before he crashed them onto yours, the contact making your lips smack and your teeth clash. Neither of you care as your tongues intertwine, carrying the battle that your hips are craving. The friction between you caused your whole body to heat up, your senses heightened. You could feel every bit of him against you. The way one hand gripped your thigh and the other pulled at the sensitive hairs at the nape of your neck, the way his tongue roughly caressed yours. He was intoxicating. In the heat of the moment he roughly pushed you into the wall behind you, the force causing you to moan into his mouth.

Jungkook was at the end of his wits, he had to have you now. He needed to taste you, see you unfurl in front of him as he eats you out. Breaking the kiss, your mouth sore, he observed the way your pants made your chest rise up and down, pushing your breasts into him.

Without a word, he attacked your mouth once again for a brief second before he trailed down your jaw to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin in the process. The hand on your thigh reached once more underneath the hem of your dress, this time making its way fully and cupping your dripping core. At the touch of his hand on your sensitive clit your knees buckled and you let your weight onto him, your forehead dropping onto his shoulder for support. You tried to suppress a moan.

“Let it all out baby” his mouth at the shell of your ear, the tip of his tongue trailing the delicate flesh there. “You’re so wet” he moans, “I can't wait to taste you.” His finger dipped under the band of your panties trailing over your center. “So soft” - he sucked your earlobe into his mouth and gave it a small bite - "so wet for me”

This time you couldn’t hold back your moan. The feel of his finger pressed into your folds, parting them and exposing your clit to his ministrations had you squirming. The tip of his finger started drumming in a rhythmic steady fashion on your engorged button. The feel of his lips caressing the sore earlobe relieving the sting from the bite is too much for you. “Jungkook please, I need..” your moans getting louder and louder as the pad of his finger presses harder in an unrelenting tempo.

The hand holding your neck slowly inched towards the swell of your breasts, picking the flesh there until it turned sore. His fingers still attached to your sensitive bud he suddenly drops on his knees in front of you. With his support now gone you try to grip uselessly at the wall behind you. He slots himself between your legs, forcing them to spread open. As he raised the hem of your dress and pushed your panties to the side you couldn’t help but look down. The sight of him between your legs glancing up at you made your knees buckle. With one hand tracing your folds and the other gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place he gives you an uncertain look. “Is this ok Y/N?” his concern for your approval makes your heart melt, but you were too high strung to think about that. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“Please” you moan in approval.

With your approval he dived right in, too hungry for your taste. Parting your folds with his fingers he starts by giving you a tentative lick. Being sensitive from his fingers you writhe, your hands desperately clutching at the wall behind you. Savouring the first taste of you he thrums with his finger at your clit. You arched your back, your hands giving up on trying to hold onto the wall. Instead they found their way into his hair, fingers gripping tightly.

Diving back in Jungkook starts lapping earnestly at your folds, his finger still applying pressure onto your sensitive nub. Bucking into his face you suppress a moan. The sensation of his wet tongue prodding at your entrance is too much to take and your knees buckle. Jungkook sensed the shift in your weight and quickly grabbed a hold of your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. The hand attached to your clit now tightly gripped your calf. The change in position offered the extra support you needed to not fall over.

With your entrance now completely opened to him his tongue started rapidly tracing your folds, only stopping to suck on your clit.

“Jungkook” the overstimulation from his tongue lapping up your wetness and his teeth nipping at the sensitive cluster of nerves is too much to handle, you can feel yourself take over, and Jungkook is more than happy to let you go at your own pace. Grinding over his face, your hands still gripping at his hair, you ride his tongue at your own pace desperate to reach your climax.

You can feel it, you are so close to release you could almost taste it.

Suddenly he entered a finger, knuckle deep into you pumping in and out quickly. Letting your calf go but making sure he is still supporting your weight with his body he leaves you sensitive nub alone and traces kisses along your inner thigh, up to your navel. The dress now obscuring other parts of you he gets up, his finger still deep in you, drawing pleasurable mewls out of your mouth.

“That’s it baby girl, tell me what you need” he is panting in your ear now. With the taste of you still lingering on his tongue and the sight of you coming undone from his ministrations makes him harder than he’s ever been. He felt uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants, the zip digging painfully.

“I need you to fuck me” you finally moan, your hips grinding against him chasing for that sweet release.

“I need you to come for me first baby, I need to see your pretty face when you cum all over my fingers” swiftly he changes fingers, his thumb now drumming at your sensitive clit. You gasp as a finger teases your entrance for a brief second before it penetrates your pussy.

The loud sounds coming from the club were not enough to drown out the lewd sounds that your wet pussy was making whilst Jungkook’s finger pistoned into you. The shot fire along with the shameless sounds you were making were enough to make the tight coil in your belly unfurl. With a deep loud moan you bit Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to muffle the yell that was threatening to spill out of your lips. Your muscles clenching in tandem with your core. Jungkook felt your cunt clamping his fingers tightly and a low grunt escaped past his lips. He could almost imagine how wet and tight you would be around him.

“That’s it beautiful, let go”

Your hips carried on buckling, chasing the high and wishing it would not stop. Jungkook took his time observing how your head fell down and your mouth opened slightly in a silent satisfied scream, how your eyes scrunched up as if you were trying to cut off all your senses apart from the feeling of his fingers in you. You were beautiful. When at last your muscles relaxed and your high subsided a low sigh fell out of your lips. It has been a long time since someone has made you cum like that with just their fingers. Jungkook’s finger still lazily traced your clit, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Jungkook '' you whined trying to back away from him but the tight grip on your waist wasn’t allowing you to move more than a few inches away. Without a word Jungkook pulled his hand out of your panties and let go of you. Your knees still weak from your climax you struggle to stand up right and you end up having to lean into him slightly for support. The sight of him licking his fingers coated in your juices sets you on fire once more.

“You’re beautiful when you cum Y/N.” Somehow, his words made you blush. The lewd act that you both partook in had failed to make you blush, instead what made you self conscious was the way he gazed at you. It was softer and more intense and it made your stomach clench once more. If not for the obscene act in the deserted corridor of a club, you might’ve actually entertained the idea that he cared.

You smiled shyly at him and in that moment he was swept away by the warmth expanding from his chest. You were indeed beautiful. And witty, and smart, and you liked to do your laundry. What more could he want? Cupping your face, he kissed you once more, slowly and with purpose. You gasped, you were not used to this gentle Jungkook. Taking the opportunity to pull you closer once more, his tongue mapped every inch of your mouth.

“Fuck me now please” you whisper against his lips. Your hand on his belt moved slowly over the bulge in his pants. He bucked into your touch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around him as much as you could with his pants still on.

“Y/N” he warns. If you carried on that way he would definitely come in his pants. Rubbing him slowly, you could feel his member harden even more under your touch.

“Is it uncomfortable babe?” you whisper in his ear. “How about I return the favour?” you unzip his pants prepared to lower yourself to the floor but he grabs your shoulders keeping you in place.

As much as he would have liked to feel those soft lips around him, he knew that if anyone were to bump into you two, it would not be good. The club was full of students going to the same university as you. If they were to find you on your knees blowing him it would instantly kill your reputation. He did not want that to happen.

“Not here” he zips his pants back up and grabs your hand gently. After all that had transpired between you this soft almost domestic treatment is not what you were expecting. Once again the warm feeling in your heart returned, and this time you were a bit more sober. He was cute, and somehow you found his duality endearing. He returned to being laundry boy Jungkook instead of the dominant Jungkook you’ve just witnessed.

You walked through the club, his hand still gripping you tightly as if he was afraid he’ll lose you in the crowd. Once you reached the outside you took a deep breath in relishing in the way the fresh air soothed your heated skin. Glancing up at Jungkook you noticed he was on his phone texting someone.

“I am texting my friends to let them know I have left,” he explained, putting his phone back in his pocket, smiling at you. The contrast of his lust-filled gaze from before and his gleeful smile almost gave you a whiplash. He was such a contradiction that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

“And I ordered an Uber” as soon as he’d said that a car pulled over right in front of you. The ride back to the campus was a quiet one. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quietness though, having chatted about anything and everything in the club you were content to just put your thoughts in order. You noticed that he had not let go of your hand once during that time but with his gaze out the window, his face thoughtful you could not bear to say anything. Plus, you were enjoying the feel of his smooth hands holding yours.

As the car pulled up in front of the dorm you both shared a glance, an understanding passing in between the two of you.

Once inside the fire inside you sparked up again. Grabbing at each other, your mouths hungrily clashing, you stumbled all the way to the elevator. It was late enough that no one would see you two messily making your way to your room. As soon as you entered the lift and separated to press the correct button you finally remembered what you’d forgotten. If you were a bit more sober you would have laughed at the hilarity of the situation.

Your face fell. “The laundry” you whined in distress. Jungkook’s mouth fell. He threw you a panicked look thinking that you’d changed your mind. One glance at you was enough to tell him that you were panicking in earnest.

“What happened to the laundry?” his hand hovering over the lift buttons unsure of what to do.

“I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer!” you looked at him with such drunken despair he had to hold his laughter in. He did not want to offend you by laughing in your face. You were sober enough to not slur your words, but clearly not sober enough to process your own feelings.

“Let's get that done then.” He decided that as much as he liked your witty self, as well as you in the throes of passion, he adored this side of you too; your guard down, emotions on display. It made his heart swell thinking that you were entrusting him with your vulnerabilities.

You rushed ahead of him entering the laundry room, not paying attention to anything but the lone machine still loaded with your clothes. You quickly opened it, the smell of clean cotton wafting around you.

“Let me help.” Jungkook grabbed the pile of clothes you were holding and moved them into the dryer next to him. As soon as everything was loaded in you turned to smile at him. The panic in your eyes now replaced by the same hunger that governed your mind earlier, you grab him forcefully, clashing your mouth against his. Your hips slammed together in an attempt to ride the pleasure from before. Jungkook, not having expected you to be so forceful, moaned into your mouth and instantly hardened against your hip bone. The quiet of the laundry room was filled with the sounds of your pants as you continued to kiss. In the heat of the moment, Jungkook places his hands on your ass, hoisting you up on the laundry machine behind you. The position allowed your hips to align perfectly, the pressure of his dick now directly onto your clit. Before you could go further Jungkook stopped and looked at you.

“You need to start the dryer,” with the last of his restraints he motioned to the still machine. You glare at him, this being the second time he cockblocks you and himself. But his gaze was unwavering. You sighed and leaned away from him, reaching for the top of the dryer as well as you could still atop of the laundry machine. “Whatever you say laundry boy.”

After pressing down on the start button, you’re quick to return to kissing him. But the quietness of the room seemed odd to you. The dryer had not started. Confused, you look at it again, certain that you pressed the right button. Pressing it once more you wait this time. The dryer stayed still.

The chaotic emotions from before enveloped you again and this time you could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jungkook is throwing you a worried look, not having expected the sight of your tears.

“It’s not started! It’s broken!” you exclaim tears pooling barely hanging onto your bottom lashes. You pushed him gently aside and hopped off the laundry machine. “Why has it not started?”

The desperate look you gave him paired with the knowledge that the machine was not doing what you wanted because you had not paid makes him crack and start laughing. You gape at his bunny smile and crinkly eyes offended until the silliness of the situation catches up to you and you can’t help but join.

“I have never cried over a broken dryer before. Or been cockblocked by one” you glance at him, mirth in both your eyes.

“And you better not start now” he warns you jokingly. You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing again.

He can’t help but be enamoured by you and your silliness. Even though the night had not gone as you’d both planned. You both crying in laughter over a dryer makes him think that maybe there was something more there than a one night stand. And he was more than ready to give it a try.

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi

Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance

Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 12/14

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

All his accounts went into trash. His books, phone and laptop soon followed.

His weapons – his trusty knife and favorite pistol – laid discarded on a floor. Next he happened upon an old, beaten toy – a monkey with its head almost torn off. It was the only thing that was left from his father, and, just for a moment he hesitated, debating if he really should throw it away.

Zeke looked at it, the edge of his vision swimming, and sighed, letting it join the pile of trash beside him.

In the end, parting with that toy was just as easy as parting with his father.

It was harder to discard another treasure of his – baseball glove, still white and soft even after all these years. If the monkey was a gift from his father, the glove was given to him by a man who had actually raised him.

Mister Xaver… I really fucked this all up, didn’t I?

He cradled the glove to his chest, taking some comfort in the feeling of its familiar texture beneath his fingers. As he held it close to his heart, Zeke knew that he couldn’t get rid of it. He wasn’t a sentimental man but that glove – it was the only thing in this world that he treasured.

Running his fingers all over it, he put it down on a floor and resumed his task.

The pile of trash grew, filling with papers, plans, blueprints. He threw it all away, a sort of satisfaction washing over him as he got rid of everything.

Maybe, it was his start of a new life. Prison was meant to change people, wasn’t it?

A dry, mirthless chuckle made its way past his lips, as he continued shifting through various, now meaningless documents, before a sudden bang that came from the first floor made him pause.

Zeke looked up, straining his hearing. The loud steps sounded on a stairwell. They kept approaching the room he was in, and their heaviness was worrying.

Whoever was looking for him, they were awfully angry.

The door to his office was thrown open, and Zeke turned around, catching the whirlwind of motion from the corner of his eyes. That was all the warning he got before he was roughly yanked up and his back met the hard surface of a concrete wall. His glasses tattered to the floor, the back of his head erupted in sharp pain and Zeke groaned, struggling to focus his eyes on the offender.

He didn’t need his vision to recognize him, though. The low, shiver-inducing voice of detective Ackerman was very hard to forget.

“Where is she?”

Despite the burning fire in his narrow grey eyes, despite his trembling fingers that gripped Zeke’s shirt so tightly that it was starting to tear at the seams, Levi’s voice was calm. And despite the burning fire in his narrow grey eyes, despite his trembling fingers that gripped Zeke’s shirt so tightly that it was starting to tear at the seams Zeke felt like it was simply calm before the storm.

The intensity of Levi’s gaze was making his stomach turn unpleasantly. Zeke tried to get out of the chokehold Levi had him in, but Levi merely grunted and further tightened his grasp.

“Where is she?” he repeated, shaking Zeke’s body like it weighted nothing.

What was the meaning of this, Zeke couldn’t even begin to fathom. Hange already asked him the same thing, what was the point of Levi repeating the question? Did he not trust her? Why did he come, and why he did it alone? Were they not in a hurry? Why were they wasting their time like this?

Zeke wanted to joke, wanted to smirk and rile Levi up a little more, but considering the state Levi was in… Perhaps, further riling it up would not end too well.

“I told your partner already, detective. I don’t know where your Petra is.”

For a second, Levi seemed surprised. His eyes widened and his hold on Zeke lessened. But it lasted for no more than a moment. Then his anger returned, more vicious than it was before.

“Don’t try to fuck with me,” he growled, absolutely wild. “Where is Hange? She came to see you, but didn’t come back. If you have done something to her…”

Zeke didn’t need to hear the end of that sentence. He was close to hyperventilating as it was.

“Hange left,” he said simply, hoping that Levi would believe him. If he wouldn’t… Zeke was afraid to think what Levi would do. He knew just how much Hange meant to him. He didn’t wish to know what Levi would do if any harm came her way again. “I don’t know what happened next, but she left this place unharmed. She was hurrying to meet with you.”

Levi let him go, as abruptly as he had grabbed.

“She didn’t come back…” he spoke feverishly, fingers clawing at his nape. “She promised but she didn’t, and if she isn’t with you…”

Zeke’s mouth fell open, as he stared at Levi. The detective he once perceived as cold and uncaring was now breaking in front of his eyes, his desperation so strong and urgent that he let even Zeke see this side of him.

His fingers twitched, the need to placate his enemy almost impossible to ignore. He thought if he should lay a hand on his shoulder, give him at least some semblance of comfort, but would Levi welcome it? Or would he slap his hand away and mock him for his sudden burst of empathy?

The latter was more probable, so Zeke stayed put, watching the unravelling scene with a sense of weak helplessness.

“Petra is missing too,” Levi continued, pacing around. “And it’s my fault, I was supposed to protect her, I have to get her back, but Hange… I can’t—” he took a shuddering breath, his voice wavering. “I can’t—”

“You can’t lose her for the second time,” Zeke finished, his soft tone surprising them both. “I can’t pretend to know how you feel,” he lost people before – first his mother, then his father, although that had been a result of his own choice and mistake, then Mister Xaver... But it didn't happen like this. There was no uncertainty, no what-ifs possible. Only crushing, overwhelming pain. But to have hope and then watch it get destroyed... Zeke could only imagine the agony it brought along. “Detective, I think I can help you in searching for her.”

Zeke didn’t quite know what had possessed him, what had made him say these words and look at Levi with a rare sincerity in his eyes.

Perhaps, he was tired – of always being the bad guy, of causing others pain and misery, of caring for only himself.

For the first time in his life, he longed to do good. To help and be kind to someone, even if that someone was his rival.

“I’ll help you, detective,” Zeke said, more sure this time. He picked up his glasses, put them on, and smirked, reveling in the dumbfounded look that had taken over Levi’s features. “We’ll get your partner back. I promise you.”

***

Petra naively thought that it couldn’t get any worse. She so foolishly thought that getting kidnapped, dragged and then tied up to a chair in some dark, smelly room was the worst of her nightmares.

But it wasn’t.

She realized the horror of it all only now, when she saw the body of unconscious Hange Zoe pushed down on a chair beside her.

If Hange was there, if she was injured and taken, then what had happened to Levi? What had they done to him if he had allowed them to take Hange away?

Just thinking about it made Petra tremble.

She was alone now, the two men had left, but the silence and the horrible, viscous feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next were slowly suffocating her.

Petra didn’t know how much time had passed, but Hange wasn’t waking up. The blood kept flowing down her face and her breathing kept growing more shallow, and Petra kept trying to stop her tears.

She didn’t want to cry, she wanted to be brave and strong, wanted to meet her end with her head held high, but damn it, she didn’t want to die. Not like this, not when— not when everything just started to come together. She had friends, a good job, someone who loved her… She didn’t want to lose it all now.

But she most probably would have to, and the realization finally broke her. Petra sniffled, a quick sob falling from her lips.

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered, not quite knowing what she was apologizing for or whose forgiveness she wanted to have.

She was sorry, though. For everything she was going to lose, for all things she didn’t get to experience. For…

“Oi, Petra…” the deep, husky voice made her jump. Petra turned her head to the side and nearly squealed, when she met the deep brown of Hange’s iris. “Cheer up, we aren’t done yet.”

“Hange!” Petra cried out, relief spilling even more of her tears. If she could, she’d run into Hange’s arms. Then again, if she could move, they wouldn’t be here at all.

“Are you alright?” Hange squinted, failing to take a good look at Petra without her glasses.

“Good, I’m good. And you?”

“Had been worse,” the grin was probably meant to make Petra feel better. But when Hange curled her lips up, she exposed her bloodied teeth, and the sight forced Petra to let out another sob. “Sorry,” Hange winced. “Can you move?”

Petra stared at her, confused. Didn’t Hange see that she was tied up?

“Your chair, can move it closer to mine?” Hange clarified. “Just an inch would be enough.”

Petra braced herself, curling her hands around the back of the chair. She bent her legs as much as she could, and then stretched them out, slightly lifting the chair and bringing it closer to Hange.

“Just a little more,” Hange asked, and Petra nodded, repeating the action.

“Excellent,” Hange praised, her voice kind. “Can you do another thing for me? Try to untie the knot on my hands. I think you’re close enough to do it.”

Again, Petra nodded, and set out to work. Unwrapping the rope proved to be a much harder task than jumping up on a chair, and on top of it all she couldn’t even see what she was doing, but Hange’s soft cheering encouraged her to continue.

She dug her fingers into the rough material, picking apart every thread with her nails. It took more time than Petra expected, but finally the rope fell onto the ground, and Hange chuckled, raising her now free hand to ruffle Petra’s hair.

“Good job,” she smiled so brightly Petra just had to smile back. “Now let me free you, and we can get out of here.”

“Okay.”

Hange’s fingers touched her bound hands, and Petra laughed, feeling incredibly giddy. Here she was crying because she thought that was the end, but Hange helped her, Hange saved her and now they were going to—

Her happy thoughts were interrupted by a sudden appear of loud footsteps. They sounded close, just behind the door.

Hange froze, murmuring a quiet, but vicious curse.

“Sorry,” she whispered to Petra, and then bolted up, returning to her previous position on a chair. She moved her hands behind her, making it look like they were still bound.

The door opened a second later, revealing the red-headed scary man.

“I see you’re awake now, Hange,” Floch smiled, swimming up closer. “I must say I quite enjoy seeing you like this.”

Hange said nothing, just grunted, as she watched the man move, approaching closer and closer. Her gaze grew more intense with every step Floch made, and when he was close, when he stood just beside Hange, looming over her, Hange let her lips pull into a smile. She sent Petra a quick, wicked look, and then launched forward, her fist raised up and ready. It connected with the Floch’s nose with a loud sound that made Petra smile too.

“I must say,” Hange said, holding Floch by his shoulders. “I quite enjoy seeing you like this.”

She didn’t give him the time to recover and dealt another blow, this one aimed at his abdomen. Floch bent over, curling onto himself. Hange raised her leg this time and kicked his knee, forcing him to fall over.

Floch hollered in pain and Hange hit him again, just to make sure he wouldn’t try to get up.

“Now where have we left off?” she turned to Petra with a smile that looked just a little too feral.

Hange crouched down next to her once more, returning to her bindings. Petra wasn’t the one, who was fighting just now, but the speed of her breathing increased, and she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from Floch, who was still curled up on a floor.

She prayed that Hange would get her out soon, but didn’t dare to actually urge her on. She didn’t wish for Hange to lose her focus, so Petra sat and she watched, picking up the smallest movements from Floch.

But, as it turned out, it wasn’t Floch she had to be afraid of. It was the other man, the one who wasn’t even in the same room with them.

Yet.

***

Oluo fixed the bulletproof vest for the tenth time in the last minute. It was squeezing his chest in an uncomfortable, suffocating manner. And the place, where the gun was resting inside a holster on his hip, burned him even through layers of clothes. The gun was still hidden, unused. For how long would it last?

Oluo cursed and looked up ahead, focusing on a wide back of Captain Erwin Smith.

“Sir?” Oluo approached him. “Should we start the mission?”

They had located the house, they had checked every entrance and exit and circled the whole perimeter. But Erwin still didn’t give an order to start.

“Five minutes,” he said, and Oluo couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Five minutes were dragging on for almost half an hour now.

“Sir…” he cautiously began. At any other day, he would never dare to argue with Captain. He wouldn’t even think about starting a conversation with him, but Petra was in danger, and fear and worry for her was making his head spin.

“I know,” Erwin cut him off. Despite his hard, determined face, his voice was quiet. Unsure. It made Oluo lower his eyes in shame. He was worried about Petra, but Captain didn’t feel much better. His two friends were missing too – detective Hange was first to disappear, and now Levi wasn’t answering his calls as well. “I know, we need to get going,” Erwin said. He glanced at his phone, sighing when he saw no missing calls or texts. “Five minutes,” he declared. “Five minutes and we’re going in. I promise.”

***

All of it was her fault.

If Petra was smart like Hange, if she was experienced like Levi, she would know that watching injured Floch was pointless. It was another man, the one she couldn’t yet see, that was an enemy she had to be wary of.

But she wasn’t wary, she was excited, filled with joy and relief.

And Hange was the one who paid for her mistake.

The man returned, but they didn’t saw him at first. Instead, they heard him.

The thundering gunshot shook the whole room, the bullet flying so close to Hange that only her quick reflexes had saved her.

The man raised his gun then, aiming it at her head. “You won’t get so lucky next time,” he spoke. His voice was deep, but not low, betraying just how young he actually was. “Sit down,” he ordered Hange.

Hange hesitated to comply, determination and anger making her face flush. And in that split second that she was able to observe that subtle change in Hange, Petra remembered what Sannes had once told her.

“She was hot-headed and reckless, and in the end, that’s what had gotten her killed.”

She didn’t believe it before, thought it was bitter words from bitter man, but she could see it now – he wasn’t wrong. After all, Hange really did die once.

She braced herself, moving her leg behind her. Preparing to attack, Petra realized suddenly, a helpless whimper escaping her lips. She wanted to stop her, wanted to beg her to follow the man’s order—

The second gunshot did it for her.

Hange grunted, bent over, pressing a hand to a growing blotch of red on her side, but didn’t scream. She swayed but didn’t fall, grabbing the back of a chair for support.

“I won’t repeat myself,” the man said and pointed his gun at the vacant chair.

Hange threw him a long, sizzling look. She straightened out and walked over to the chair, her steps slow, pained, but steady.

“Floch,” the man turned to his accomplice. “Tie her up again. And make sure you do a thorough job this time.”

Floch eagerly nodded, groaning as he pushed himself upwards. He roughly seized Hange’s hands, eliciting another pained grunt out of her, and pulled them behind her back, tying them up with a discarded rope.

“Seems like your luck has died out,” he mocked with a wide smile.

“We’ll see about that,” Hange spit the blood out of her mouth, just barely missing the tip of Floch’s shoe. She raised her head then, meeting Petra’s eyes. Her lips curled in a reassuring smile. “The help is on their way.”

“We won’t be here when they come,” Floch’s friend said. “And you,” he walked further inside the room, stepping into a light of a single lightbulb that now cast a long, flitting shadow. “You won’t be here either.”

The threat made Petra’s blood turn cold, but Hange didn’t seem just as affected. She tilted her head to the side, curiously studying a man in front of her.

“And who are you?” she asked. “I knew Floch was involved, but what’s your deal? What did Zeke do to you?”

“He ruined my life,” he spoke gravelly. “And now I’m going to ruin his.”

“Ruin your life?” in spite of his dark words and solemn mood, Hange scoffed. “You’ve got to be a little more specific, buddy. You’re not the only member of this club.”

The man came closer, pressing his fist to the fresh wound on Hange’s side. She choked and doubled over. The man grimaced and turned his head to look at Floch. “I thought you were exaggerating when you mentioned just how annoying she was,” he said, before returning his attention back to Hange. His green eyes darkened. “Zeke murdered my family. That’s all you need to know.”

Hange gasped, her remaining eye widening. “Murdered your family?” she stuttered, the gears in her head turning rapidly. “It can’t be… I thought it was but a rumor. But if it’s true… does it mean you’re Eren? Zeke’s little brother?”

“Eren Yeager…” Petra murmured, shocked to remember an old case file Oluo had shown to her. “The boy whose family was murdered. But… I thought that killer’s identity remained unknown?”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Eren hummed. “Yes, you’re right, Zeke wasn’t the one who killed them. But he was the one who gave the order to. And I’ll make him pay for that. I’ll make him suffer. Just as I did with the actual murderers.”

“Why not simply kill him then?” Hange questioned. “What’s the point of this whole mess?”

“Zeke didn’t kill me,” Eren’s curled fists trembled, as his eyes filled with righteous fire. “He simply ruined my whole life. I’m going to give him the same curtesy.”

“Zeke is going to end up in prison anyway,” Hange argued, her lips pursed. “Pinning another crime on him is pointless.”

“You were hunting him down for years, Zoe,” Floch spoke up. “You didn’t have much luck in catching him. Besides…”

“Besides, I want him to know it was me,” Eren said. “I want him to know that it was me who got him in prison.”

Hange’s lips curled up, as she lowly chuckled. “No one is going to believe you. Cops aren’t that dumb, you know.”

“Maybe, they aren’t,” Eren agreed easily. “But after they find two murdered detectives, they’ll be out for blood and they won’t really care who to pin this all on.”

“And Zeke will be their only suspect,” Floch smirked. “He has the motive, he has the means… Even the scene of a crime belongs to him. Or do you still not get it, Zoe? Just look around...”

Hange did, her jaw tensing, as the realization slowly kicked in.

“That’s right,” Floch nodded. “You’ve lost an eye here. Now you’re going to lose your life here too.”

His voice, so falsely sweet and friendly, sent shivers down Petra’s spine. She prayed once more, hoping that someone would listen. Hoping that they would be saved.

“Finish them, Floch,” Eren lazily waved his hand. “I’ll be waiting in a car.”

“With pleasure,” Floch purred, taking out his knife. The edge of it glinted caught the light, showing a brief reflection of Petra’s terrified face. That was the last thing she saw, before promptly shutting her eyes in fear.

***

Erwin stared right ahead, as time continued to mercilessly move on.

One minute passed, then two, three… Soon he’d have to give an order to move out, he couldn’t possibly waste any more time, yet still… Still he hesitated. He kept waiting for Hange and Levi to return, thinking that any moment now he would see Levi appear from out of the corner, a furious scowl on his face, as he dragged Hange along, complaining that she had made him make a detour and get her a cup of coffee.

But there was no sign of his friends, and the point on his wrist watch kept moving, and that meant he couldn’t wait any longer.

Just one minute of the five minutes he had promised to Oluo left, when they heard a loud sound, coming from a safe house.

With a shudder, Erwin recognized the sound of a gunshot.

“Sir?” Oluo looked up at him, his face turning even paler. “Should we—”

Oluo didn’t get to finish. Another gunshot sounded.

“We’re starting,” Erwin announced, his jaw set. “Spread the word, Oluo, and get ready.”

Oluo nodded, saluted and rushed to fulfill the order.

Erwin breathed in deeply, taking out his gun. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use it tonight, but if something went wrong, if someone hurt Petra… he’d have no other choice.

“We are ready, sir!” Oluo came back, panting. “Just say the word.”

“Let’s begin then.”

Another deep breath, and Erwin’s fingers tightened around the gun, as he took his first step forward.

Just as expected, the door to the safe house was locked, so he braced himself, angling his shoulder towards the wooden surface. Next to him, Oluo did the same.

“On a count of three,” Erwin warned. “One… Two…”

He never got to three.

“Wait!”

In the exact second that Erwin meant to finish the count, he heard a familiar voice. Not believing he was really there, Erwin turned around. And saw Levi running up to him.

As he had thought, Levi wasn’t alone, someone following right behind him. However, it wasn’t Hange.

It was Zeke Yeager.

***

The headlights turned on, the engine roared, and the car smoothly drove onto the road.

"So what do you think we should do?" Levi asked, keeping his eyes firmly on a road ahead.

What do you think, not what should we do... Interesting.

It was almost cute how much detective Levi tried to be in control now after he had lost it right in front of Zeke. A lesser person would have mocked him for that, Zeke certainly wanted to... But today he felt gracious enough and so decided to gift Levi with an illusion that his authority and dignity was still intact.

“The girl that went missing first - do you know when she was taken?"

"Her name is Petra,” Levi grunted, shooting him a disgruntled look. “And she went missing last night. It's been almost a day since we lost contact with her."

Zeke nodded, his hand moving to cup his chin. "Then we must hurry.”

“We found a place where they’re holding her,” Levi said. “Let’s head there first. Save Petra and then…” he trailed off, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “And then we’ll take care of everything else.”

There it was again, Zeke realized with confusion. That same irritating feeling, the same urge to give Levi some reassurance.

“Maybe, we’ll find Hange there,” he said. “And even if we won’t, she is smart. Strong too. She can take care of herself.”

Levi didn’t answer him, but his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched.

“There is no need to worry,” he took another attempt, this time meaning to lighten the mood. “She survived even me after all.”

The chuckle died out somewhere in his throat, when he glanced and Levi, and saw him looking back at him with murderous rage.

“Her eye,” he growled. “You will pay for that, Zeke. After this mess is over,” another furious glare, this time it was dark enough to frighten Zeke. He nervously shifted his eyes to the side, focusing on a sight of bright-lit streets passing by. “I’ll make sure you do pay for that.”

“I believe you,” Zeke murmured hoarsely.

“And I believe you,” Levi blurted out suddenly. “Open the glove compartment.”

Zeke did, albeit carefully. The anger disappeared from Levi’s voice. So did hostility. Now he sounded strangely amicable.

Inside the glove compartment was a gun. Zeke stared at it curiously, not quite knowing what to make of it.

“It’s Hange’s,” Levi mumbled like it explained anything.

“And?”

Levi huffed. “And you should take it. I don’t know what’s waiting for us, and I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to protect you.”

Well, that was certainly… a surprising turn of event.

“You trust me that much?”

Zeke honestly wasn’t sure if he would have trusted himself that much. And yet Levi…

“Hange trusts you,” Levi simply said.

Zeke gawked at him. Was it actually that simple to him? Did he have so much trust and faith in Hange that he was ready to put his own beliefs aside?

Something painful bloomed in his chest as Zeke pondered on it. He wondered what it would feel like – to have someone you could trust as easily as yourself, what it would feel like to know that there was someone you could share your everything with. Must be a truly elating feeling.

“We’re almost there,” Levi announced, taking a turn to the left. “Get ready.”

Zeke nodded and took out the gun, getting familiar with its weight.

“It’s Hange’s,” Levi reminded. “So take care of it.”

He honestly hadn’t expected anything else from Levi, so with a low chuckle Zeke replied, “Will protect it with my life, detective.”

Levi’s answer was a short, but unexpectedly soft grunt that made Zeke let out another laugh.

A horrifying in its simplicity thought came right after. Were the two of them bonding?

It should have disgusted him, but it didn’t. It was actually nice in its own, weird way.

However, Levi took another turn, and Zeke’s joyful feelings disappeared. He knew where they were heading now. His old safe house.

So they really were targeting him? But who these they were? And what exactly did they want?

Either way, he’d be able to unravel this mystery in a matter of minutes. For now, Zeke hoped that he’d stuck for the winning team.

Even if he hadn’t, though, it was good that Levi found him before the police had found the bodies of Hange and that Petra. He could only imagine what cops would do to him if they thought that Zeke killed two of their own.

Levi parked the car next to an old abandoned building. He opened the door, putting one foot on a ground. Before he got out, he turned back and fixed his hard eyes Zeke.

“I trust you,” he said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Zeke could only nod in reply. He wanted to say something else, but by the time he found his words, Levi was already out of the car.

Zeke took his first step towards Levi, when a loud sound – the unmistakable bang of a shotgun – carried around the empty neighborhood.

Levi froze, tensed and then started running. Zeke cursed and followed after him. To his shame, despite his long legs, he could barely keep up.

The entrance to the safe house was already within their eyesight. The building was surrounded by police from all sides. The best of the best, Zeke had no doubt about it.

The second gunshot rang not long after the first one, forcing Levi to run even faster. Zeke rushed after him, sweating and already out of breath.

When they finally got there, the police was ready to attack, their guns drawn and expressions determined.

“Wait!” Levi shouted as they approached.

As on cue, everyone turned their heads to them.

The blonde man on the front stepped forward, his features simultaneously showing relief and confusion.

“Levi,” he shifted his eyes from Levi to Zeke. “Where is—”

“I don’t know.”

“And him?” the man gestured to Zeke. “Can we—”

“Don’t really have a choice. He promised to help for what it’s worth.”

“Alright. Then let’s go. Ready, Levi?”

“Of course, Erwin.”

Oh, that was Erwin Smith? The myth, the legend of the city’s police? Zeke had to admit he was just as impressive in person as the rumors about him promised he would be. He would have loved to observe more of him, to see for himself if he was truly that charismatic.

Although, if he had people like Levi and Hange following him, then there was no doubt that Erwin too was an exceptional person.

Right now, however, Zeke had no time to dwell on it.

“Follow me,” Levi ordered, dragging Zeke behind him. They entered the building together, but when Levi headed to the first turn on the left, Zeke pulled him away.

“No,” he took his gun out and nodded to the long hallway. “You follow me, Levi.”

For a second, Levi hesitated, his eyes flashing. But then studied Zeke’s face, and whatever he had seen there, it had eased his distrust.

“Then lead the way,” he agreed.

The hallways of safe house were dark and quiet, but not for long. As soon as Erwin and his team had entered, the chaos filled every corner.

Zeke rolled his eyes, why did he even expect anything else from that bunch. Still, he would have preferred to approach it with as much stealth as it was possible. Who knew what their enemies would do if they find out that they’re done for.

If it was Floch who was involved in kidnapping, and he must have, since not many people knew about this place, then Zeke knew the room he would choose to stay. The same room where he had lost his calm and detective Hange had lost an eye. He led Levi there, but as they neared their destination, Zeke saw a shadow that ran to the back door.

He caught just a glimpse of the shadow’s face, but that was enough.

He looked just like his father. His baby brother… Was it really him who was out for his blood?

“Go,” he told Levi, already moving in the direction Eren had disappeared. “If there is someone in this house, they’re right behind next door.”

“And you?” Levi didn’t stop him, but he made him pause. However, his eyes showed no distrust this time. Only concern.

“I need to take care of something first,” Zeke said resolutely. “But I’ll be back.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Levi reminded him, and then let Zeke go.

Zeke watched Levi move forward, and then turned around, heading to the back door.

It was time he had a talk with his brother.

***

Levi didn’t know what he had expected to see behind the door Zeke had pointed him to.

He hoped to see Petra, preferably along with Hange, well and unharmed with their enemies trembling in a corner.

He was afraid to enter and come face to face with Petra, who was bleeding and injured.

He absolutely refused to think about finding Petra and Hange, but realizing that he was already too late.

What he didn’t expect after opening that door was to see Petra trembling and crying. He didn’t expect to see a man standing just a little to her left with a knife raised up in the air. He didn’t expect to see that knife be so close to Hange’s throat.

He didn’t really think before acting, his heart was beating a little too loudly for that.

“Police!” he shouted, raising his gun. “Drop your weapon!”

The man didn’t listen.

Levi’s first shot flew just an inch over the criminal’s head, getting stuck in a wall behind him. The man didn’t even flinch, he turned around just for a moment, long enough to show Levi his bloodthirsty smile.

Levi’s hands trembled, but years of training allowed him to claim a clear shot to the man’s knee all the same.

He yelped and fell down, but Levi wasn’t looking at him anymore. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Erwin and Oluo enter the room. Oluo rushed right to Petra, Erwin met Levi’s eyes and nodded, crouching beside the man Levi just shot.

With everything else taken care of, Levi ran up to Hange. Her face was covered in blood, her shirt too and she was missing her glasses, but when he kneeled down next to her, when their eyes met, she smiled and Levi could finally breathe again.

“You saved me…” her eye was shining so brightly, the edge of it brimming with tears. “I knew you would, Levi.”

The lump in Levi’s throat grew large, too large to swallow, so he simply nodded and went to undo the bindings behind her back, but his fingers kept shaking and the rope refused to give in. He cursed and tried again and again, until Erwin appeared beside him and gently pushed him away.

“Just make sure our Hange is alright,” he whispered with a gentle smile.

He did just as Erwin had told him, but when he looked at Hange again, saw all her injuries and wounds, he was overwhelmed once more. He felt so many things at once – relief, happiness, anger, fear, love. It all swirled around his head, making him dizzy.

What if he wasn’t fast enough? What if he didn’t listen when Zeke told him not to take the first turn or what if he didn’t trust him to go on his own and followed him outside? Just a second more and there would be no Hange. He’d be left alone, without her once again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive it for the second time.

“I’m fine, Levi,” Erwin must have already dealt with the rope, because Hange’s hands were now free and she outstretched them towards him, grasping at his shoulders to pull him closer. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, Levi could feel the blood sipping through her shirt and onto his jacket. Hange wasn’t fine, but she was here, with him, still breathing, still warm in his arms. He pressed her to him – desperate, but careful, and took a deep breath, filling himself with her scent. There was almost too much blood and sweat on her, and it was almost enough to mask her true smell, but Levi had still felt it.

He allowed himself another moment to get immersed in it.

“Don’t leave,” he said, not caring that he sounded like he was begging. “Please, don’t leave me again, Hange.”

“I won’t,” there were gentle fingers in hair, then soft lips on his temple. If he wasn’t so out of it, Levi would have been embarrassed. He was the one who was supposed to give Hange comfort right now. She was kidnapped and almost murdered. And yet… the one trembling and panting was him. “And even if I do, I trust you to always get me back home.”

A strong hand on his shoulder forced Levi to look up and pull himself away from Hange.

“We should take her to the hospital,” Erwin said, his face showing the same worry Levi was feeling. “I already called an ambulance. Would you like me to—”

“No,” Levi declined. “I’ll do it myself. C’mon, four-eyes,” he threw her arm around his shoulders and hooked his hand beneath her knees. “Let’s get going.”

Before he lifted Hange up in the air, he glanced back, searching for Petra. She was on the floor with Oluo clinging onto her. The poor sod seemed to be crying, and Petra curled around him, whispering soothing words.

God, and Levi thought he was pathetic.

Tightening his hold on Hange, he gathered her in his arms and slowly stood up.

“Oh no, have I died and gone to heaven?” Hange cackled, throwing her head back. “The great Levi Ackerman is carrying me in his arms…”

Levi rolled his eyes, hiding a smile. Seemed like Hange wasn’t that injured if she was already back to her insufferable self.

“Shut up or I’ll throw you to the ground.”

“Nah,” Hange claimed confidently, ruffling his hair as though to prove her point. “You won’t do that.”

“Absolutely insufferable,” he murmured, shooting Hange a dark look. It was ruined by a smile that he was fruitlessly trying to fight.

Hange smiled back and that’s how Levi knew – they’d be alright.

#look! we're (almost) done!#just two more short chapters and that's it!#levihan

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

Text

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 13

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 4261 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Robin, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Usopp, Nami, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Sengoku, Sengoku’s goat ;) Notes: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Law slowly came awake, having slept the dreamless sleep he only ever had after draining himself to the point of unconsciousness. He grimaced before slitting his eyes open; his body ached, his mouth was cottony, and his head throbbed. As the fuzzy world came into focus around him, he realized he was on the couch. He frowned. When had that happened? The last thing he remembered was sitting with Luffy on the floor…

He threw a hand over his face and groaned as he remembered that Luffy was the one who’d found him during his panic attack. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin were the only ones he allowed to see him like that; they’d seen him at his worst when Cora-san’s death was still a gaping wound, and his body was still marred with Amber Lead. They’d been there for the screaming nightmares and suffocating panic attacks. For anyone else to see him that way…

Well, Law hadn’t been able to afford such shows of weakness around the Family.

But Luffy had simply smiled and offered that he had his own demons as well.

Law swallowed, unsure of what to do with that bit of kindness. It settled uncomfortably somewhere behind his breastbone.

Taking a breath, he pushed himself upright and glanced around. Luffy was nowhere to be seen. Vergo’s body was also gone. That meant someone—likely Marines—had come in while Law was sleeping to remove it. The idea of being defenseless while Marines were in the room made his stomach turn. Yet they’d left him alone, undoubtedly on Smoker’s orders.

Shaking his head, Law grabbed Kikoku from where she’d been placed on the table and pocketed his Den Den Mushi. He had no idea what time it was—and there were no windows in this metal monstrosity of a lab to give him any hints—but if the Marines had removed Vergo’s body, there was a good chance the back-up ship had arrived, meaning it was morning.

Rather than aimlessly wander around the lab, Law reached out with his haki to look for the Straw Hats… and was immediately struck by the overwhelming presence of Luffy. After a moment, he was able to discern the chaotic energies of the other Straw Hats as well; they were gathered a few halls over. The Marines, including Smoker and his second, were on the other side of the lab, near the entrance. He could sense more Marines than he thought had been there previously, which seemed to confirm his suspicion.

Law left the control room and followed his haki. The closer he got to the gathered group, the stronger the smell of cooking food became—which made perfect sense when he found the crew in the dining hall.

“Torao, good morning!” Luffy called, waving his hand as though Law wouldn’t be able to pick him out from the small group. They were all seated at one long table that they seemed to have pieced together from several smaller tables.

“Straw Hat-ya,” Law greeted with a sigh, head already aching from the enthusiasm. Whatever time it was, it was too early for this.

“Sanji’s cooking breakfast. I hope there’s lots of meat!” Luffy said, eyes glazing over.

“Of course, you do,” the cat burglar said, rolling her eyes. She then turned and looked Law up and down without any hint of subtlety. “There’s coffee in the kitchen,” she said, lips twitching.

Law considered flipping her off, but coffee sounded amazing, so he simply nodded and headed back to the kitchen, where Black Leg was working. He raised an eyebrow at Law’s presence.

“Coffee?” Law grunted.

Black Leg nodded and broke off from the task he was doing—scrambling eggs, from the looks of it—and poured a cup of coffee.

“Take anything with it?”

Law shook his head, accepting the undoctored mug of precious caffeine.

Black Leg snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

Law shrugged and took a sip. The bitter liquid burned at his scratchy throat, and it was heavenly.

“Any dietary restrictions?” Black Leg asked as he went back to the meal.

“No bread.”

Black Leg hummed. “Gluten allergy or just not a fan?”

“Gluten,” Law acknowledged around sips.

Black Leg nodded. “I can work with that.” He turned to another task but looked over his shoulder at Law. “Tell those idiots it’s almost ready, will you?”

Law took that as being kicked out of the kitchen, so he jerked his head in a nod and grudgingly returned to the rowdy collection of remaining Straw Hats.

“It’s almost ready,” Law relayed as he sat down at the end of the table, as far from Luffy as he could place himself. He could still feel a crawling sensation under his skin as he thought about the night before, and sitting as far away from its source while he worked through his thoughts seemed like his best bet.

“Was there meat?” Luffy asked, mouth practically watering.

“There’s always meat, you shitty piece of rubber,” Black Leg said as he brought several platters of food out from the kitchen.

After dropping off the platters, Black Leg went back to the kitchen several more times and returned with an impressive array of breakfast foods for the crew to share. The remaining Straw Hats, particularly those seated close to Luffy, seemed to have a well-practiced system in place to eat their meals while avoiding Luffy stealing from their plates, including knocking their captain upside the head when he got too close. Luffy merely grinned and laughed before returning to his own heaping plate.

Law managed to grab some eggs and fruit amidst the melee, and, as he ate, he considered how different the dynamic was from his own crew’s. Though, Law supposed with no little regret, he hadn’t eaten with them with any regularity in the last few years. Ever since Shachi’s injury, Law’s guilt had pushed him away from his nakama, and, when he did eat, he usually ended up eating alone or with the Family—Sunday dinners, for instance, were required for every executive who was not away on a mission. Though the Family was hectic in its own way, manners were still expected—and not just because their captain was also a king. Table manners had been preached even when Law had been with the Family at Spider Miles; just because they were pirates did not mean they were savages, Doffy had said, and they were expected to act like it.

That had made a lot more sense when Law had learned that Doffy was a former Celestial Dragon—many of his quirks had come into focus with that information, in fact.

It had also been revealing about Cora-san, though Law hadn’t been entirely ready to open that Pandora’s Box, despite knowing about it for six years.

“How did you sleep last night, Torao-kun?”

Law started, pulled from his thoughts by Nico Robin’s smiling face across the table from him.

“Luffy went looking for you last night after dinner, but then he didn’t come back until this morning,” she elaborated, still smiling.

The expression set Law’s teeth on edge. He narrowed his eyes, certain that she was screwing with him. “Fine,” he said curtly then deliberately took a sip of coffee, hoping to discourage the conversation. Still. Did that mean Luffy had stayed? He was obviously the one who had moved Law to the couch, and that was humiliating enough, but the thought that the other captain had stayed with him…

Law’s eye twitched.

But Nico Robin just kept smiling. “That’s good to hear. After all, we’re heading to Dressrosa today.”

Law put his cup down slowly. “Yes,” he agreed, not sure what she was getting at.

“We’ll need everyone to be at their best to face Doflamingo,” she said, expression never changing. “I’ve heard the rumors about him.”

“Until tomorrow, little bird.”

“He’s worse than any rumor,” Law ground out before pushing himself up and away from the table. He grabbed Kikoku, knuckles going white from his grip. He needed air.

“Torao?” Luffy called after him, but he ignored the other captain, practically fleeing the room.

Recalling the blueprints of the lab, he navigated the hallways to the front entrance and practically exploded out the door, stumbling onto the front stoop as he shoved the door open with more force than needed. He put a hand against the wall and sagged, sucking in lungfuls of icy air, the cold tamping down on the heat that had risen in his face and helping him to collect himself.

After a few more deep breaths, he felt his head clear, and he looked out over the island. He’d been so caught up in his own mind that he hadn’t noticed the Marine vessel being loaded in the port a few hundred yards away. He shook his head; he needed to get his shit together if he was going to deal with Doflamingo today.

Law leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms against his chest, watching various Marines scurry about like little insects whose nest had been disturbed while others barked orders.

After a few minutes of Law watching his men, Smoker climbed the steps and took a seat on the top step, leaving distance between himself and Law.

As the two watched in silence, several soldiers marched the chained Caesar and Monet toward the ship. Caesar continued making high-pitched protests—“Do you know who I am?”, “Do you know who you’re messing with?” and the like—while Monet remained silent. As if drawn to Law, she turned and their eyes met briefly, that look of betrayal still in her gaze. Then she was pushed along toward the ship and the connection broke.

Law exhaled, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Once Doflamingo learned of their arrests as well as of Vergo’s death—he had more spies in the Marines than just Vergo, though even Law didn’t know all their identities—he would undoubtedly retrieve his subordinates and Vergo’s body. He would leverage his connections, and even the Fleet Commander couldn’t refuse the Gorosei.

Law could only hope he’d receive that news once Law and his nakama had escaped Dressrosa.

“What will you do now?” Smoker asked as they watched a string of Caesar’s men, buoyed by strange balloon devices, escorted to the ship by another group of soldiers. “Doflamingo will kill you if you return to Dressrosa.”

That… was not actually true; Law might wish he were dead if Doffy got wind of his betrayal before he and his crew could flee, but he would live until he performed the Perennial Youth Operation. Only then would he be allowed to die—for the sake of Doffy’s immortality. No, it would be his nakama (and Luffy’s crew, now that the crazy captain had decided to involve himself in Law’s affairs) who would pay the ultimate price. But Smoker didn’t need to know that.

Law raised an eyebrow at Smoker’s back. “Why do you care, White Chase-ya? I’m just a no-good pirate.”

“Maybe I don’t like being in debt to pirates,” Smoker retorted. “And if you die, I can’t pay it back.”

Law snorted. “Apologies if my impending death is inconvenient for your conscience.”

Smoker grumbled in response.

They sat in silence for several more minutes, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Smoker seemed to have come to some kind of conclusion about Law, and Law simply had too much on his mind to bother with antagonizing the vice admiral. And, if Law were being honest with himself, while he hated the Marines on principle for their part in Flevance’s fall, Smoker was one of the few who had ever shown even an inkling of honor; it was a very grudging sense of respect he found budding toward the vice admiral.

They watched the ship’s continued loading until the lab’s door opened once more, and the Straw Hats spilled out onto the stoop. Law noticed two more figures had joined the group: Kin’emon the samurai and a boy dressed in similar garb. A son? They had shied off to the side of the group on the other side of the doorway from Law.

“Oh, there you are, Torao!” Luffy said, spying Law off to the side. “And Smokey!”

“Straw Hat,” Smoker grumbled, pushing himself to his feet.

“Where are the children?” the cat burglar asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Tashigi is with them,” Smoker said.

“Well, we’re not leaving until we see them off,” Chopper added, coming up next to his crewmate at the front of the group, doing his best to sound authoritative.

Smoker lip curled in annoyance, but he was saved from having to reply by the emergence of the captain and the children from a side entrance of the lab. The swordswoman, with a bright voice and wide smile, directed the children toward the ship. The children laughed and jumped around as they boarded the ship.

“Tashigi!” Smoker called.

The swordswoman looked up from her charges and took in the group standing next to the vice admiral. After murmuring something to the remaining children waiting to board, she headed over to the lab steps.

“Smoker-san,” she greeted.

“These idiots won’t leave until they know the children are taken care of. Tell them where we’re taking them.”

Long Nose and the cyborg protested at being called idiots, but the cat burglar and Chopper ignored them. Their eyes were focused on the swordswoman.

“We’re taking them to be treated by Vegapunk himself,” the captain replied, adjusting her glasses. “He’s agreed to look at the long-term effects of the drugs and work on a treatment. Once they’ve received the care they need, we’ll take them all home. We’re also in the process of contacting their families.”

“That’s a relief,” Chopper said, smiling.

The swordswoman looked at the cat burglar. “I meant what I said earlier; I will protect the children with my life!”

The cat burglar nodded, her expression softening. “I know. Thank you.”

The two women shook hands, and the captain glanced at her superior before heading back to the ship. The children were making their way onto the deck of the ship, calling at the Straw Hats with their thanks. Law was startled to hear even a few thanks hollered in his direction. Considering he hadn’t wanted to get caught up with the children in the first place, he didn’t think he deserved any.

Smoker shook his head and glanced back at the gathered group, eyes meeting Law’s one final time, before he headed back to the ship, corralling the remaining soldiers who had yet to board. The Straw Hats waved as the ship eventually pushed off from the dock and set sail.

“All right!” Luffy called out, grabbing the attention of his crew. “Let’s go! On to Dressroba!”

“Dressrosa,” Law grumbled.

“Shishishi,” Luffy chuckled. “Whatever. Let’s go take down that Mingo!”

He headed off in the direction of the Thousand Sunny, and the rest of the group followed—including Kin’emon and the boy, Law noted. He’d have to account for their presence in his plan. Luffy continued chattering on, mostly to Zoro and Long Nose, though he’d turn back every now and then to meet Law’s eye with a grin.

As they walked, the cat burglar came up next to Law. “I can navigate using the maps we found in the lab, but if you have a better way…”

Law reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat and pulled out an Eternal Pose for Dressrosa. It was the same one Doffy had given Law nearly a decade earlier in the North Blue. He carried it on every mission away from the island. For a moment, Law’s grip tightened on the wooden frame as he considered that there was a good chance neither he nor his nakama would ever leave that island again. Swallowing, he forcibly loosened his fingers and offered it to her. Her eyes lit up.

“That will make things easier!” She looked at the pose for a moment then glanced back at Law. “You said it should take half a day?”

“Yes.”

The cat burglar—Nami—peered up at the sky and narrowed her eyes consideringly before shaking her head. “We’ll have to get further away from the conditions on this weird island before I can get a sense of the weather.”

“Dressrosa is a summer island,” Law supplied. “The weather is rarely poor around it.”

Nami hummed thoughtfully. “That’s promising.”

Law hesitated before adding, “Avoid skies with clouds as much as possible.”

“Why?” Black Leg asked from Law’s other side. He took a drag on his cigarette and raised a curious eyebrow.

Law glanced at him before turning back to Nami. “Doflamingo can use his Devil Fruit to travel in the skies. He uses clouds to do it. If he has any suspicion that I’ve betrayed him, he’ll be out looking for me.”

“Will he have any suspicion?” Black Leg asked as Nami’s eyes widened.

“I… don’t know.” Law had played the call over in his mind repeatedly and still did not know if Doffy had been bluffing. Even if he hadn’t been, there was no telling how quickly he’d hear from his Marine spies about what had happened on Punk Hazard. “Best to assume he does.”

Black Leg pursed his lips but didn’t say anything.

Once they boarded the Thousand Sunny, the Straw Hats spread out to complete their respective jobs for setting sail. Law leaned back against the wall and was joined by Kin’emon and the boy as they stayed out their hosts’ way. Law and the samurai eyed one another. Law didn’t know anything about Kin’emon, other than, as a samurai, he was likely from Wano and that Doffy wanted him kept alive. If Kin’emon was from Wano, Law idly wondered if Doffy’s orders about the man came from Kaido but put the thought out of his mind; it didn’t matter to the task at hand.

Once the Thousand Sunny had pulled away from Punk Hazard and started toward Dressrosa, Law’s Eternal Pose pointing the way, the Straw Hats reconvened on the lawn in the center of the ship. They turned to Law.

“Tell us, Torao-kun,” Nico Robin said, speaking for her crew. “What awaits us in Dressrosa?”

Law took a steadying breath and started to speak.

-----

Two Days Later

Smoker found the Inspector General in his favorite spot, a perch overlooking New Marineford, absently sharing snacks with his beloved goat. He hadn’t been entirely surprised to receive a summons from Marine HQ after the prisoners he’d brought in and the damning report he’d filed about another vice admiral, but he thought this might be a bit more personal, considering the source.

“Inspector General,” Smoker greeted as he came to a stop next to the seated man.

“Smoker,” Sengoku replied, nodding at him.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes,” Sengoku said, adjusting his glasses briefly. “I read your report about the events on Punk Hazard.”

Smoker’s original report had been heavily edited so that the official report had, much like the Alabasta report, given him far more credit than he deserved for what had transpired. It also whitewashed some of the uglier truths Smoker had learned about the base commander of G-5 and the experiments being conducted on the island. But Smoker had a feeling Sengoku was referring to the unedited version. Semi-retired or not, a man like Sengoku would have his ways of getting his hands on that document.

“Sir,” Smoker said neutrally.

Sengoku offered his goat a cracker before glancing at Smoker. “You don’t seem pleased at the accolades being thrown your way for uncovering a traitor so high in the ranks.”

Smoker snorted. “If you read my report, you know I didn’t uncover shit. Sir.”

Sengoku nodded, absently scratching behind the goat’s ears. “Corazon revealed Vergo’s true nature.”

So, he had read the unedited version. “Yes.”

“Tell me, Smoker,” Sengoku said, something careful about his tone that Smoker couldn’t quite place. “What were your impressions of Vice Admiral Vergo? Before this? You worked alongside him at G-5.”

“I thought he was a good leader and a good soldier,” Smoker admitted. “I respected him.” He’d had no reason to suspect the man; his reputation was spotless, and the men of G-5 admired him. It grated on him that he hadn’t noticed the rat. Surely there had been something amiss that Smoker had missed…

But, no. Vergo’s act had been flawless.

Sengoku nodded thoughtfully. “And Corazon killed him.”

“Yes.”

“And what did you make of that, Vice Admiral?”

Smoker frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The second in command of the Donquixote Pirates killing a particularly important spy for his own crew among Marine ranks. Surely that was surprising to you.”

Smoker, even in his unedited report, had skirted around what he’d heard about Corazon’s history. He wasn’t sure why he was keeping the man’s secrets other than the debt he owed him, but something hadn’t sat right in his chest when he’d attempted to make note of all he’d heard. He’d learned to trust his instincts over the years, and they’d told him he’d be better served holding onto that information. Even—maybe especially—the Marines were prone to politics, and Smoker knew that information could be leveraged. He found the fact distasteful, but it was true nonetheless.

But those same instincts were also telling him now that Sengoku was the right person to tell, considering his personal connection to the Donquixote Pirates. It was known amongst the longest-serving Marines that Sengoku’s adopted son had been killed by the Donquixote Pirates while on an undercover mission infiltrating them. Smoker had never met Rosinante, but he’d seen the plaque on the wall of fallen soldiers.

“There seemed to be bad blood between them,” Smoker said after coming to his decision. He didn’t have a full sense of what he’d witnessed between the two men, but he knew enough about long-standing grudges to recognize one when he saw it. “Going back a long way.”

Corazon couldn’t be older than his mid-twenties but had held the title of Corazon for half a decade. Only someone who’d been with the Family for a long time could have risen to second in command—Doflamingo only surrounded himself with the best, which was part of what made his crew so dangerous—so for Corazon to have risen so high so at such a young age likely meant he’d been with them as a child. It was common knowledge that the Family recruited children and raised them to be loyal soldiers, so that would not have been surprising.

The slightest twitch in Sengoku’s eyebrow told Smoker that he was on the right track. Considering the timeline, then, there was a good chance Corazon knew Sengoku’s son and might have answers about the circumstances surrounding his death, which had remained under high level security clearance in the years since. Most Marine lifers felt Sengoku had never truly moved past Rosinante’s death (though they’d never say it in the man’s earshot), but now perhaps he could get some answers—especially if Corazon was attempting to leave the Family and had no reason to keep their secrets any longer.

“I see,” Sengoku finally said, offering the goat another cracker. He offered the bag to Smoker wordlessly, but Smoker shook his head.

Smoker hesitated only a moment before adding, “Corazon let something slip during the fight.”

Sengoku simply nodded at him to continue, obviously recognizing Smoker had left whatever it was out of his report.

“I think he’s a survivor of the White City.”

Sengoku paled, though Smoker had a feeling it wasn’t for the reason most did when Flevance was mentioned. He’d been Fleet Admiral when commands had come from above even him to wipe out the country and everyone in it due to the highly contagious Amber Lead Disease that was killing entire generations.

It was genocide and a shame on any Marine with a sense of honor.

“There were no survivors,” Sengoku said finally, voice curiously choked off.

And even if anyone had managed to escape the slaughter, they should have died years earlier due to Amber Lead Disease. But somehow, Corazon hadn’t.

The more he thought about it, the more Smoker had a feeling it had to do with that Devil Fruit of his. The Ope-Ope no Mi was a miracle surgery fruit, after all.

“There seems to be at least one,” Smoker replied, remembering the fury in Corazon’s voice as he’d railed against what had happened to his family and his home, sheer rage taking over the normally composed man. It was clearly a slip he regretted making, considering the way his expression had soured once he’d realized what he’d said. “It sounded like his parents were doctors, but they were killed with everyone else when Flevance fell. Including a sister.”

Sengoku ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking his age. “I see,” he said after a long moment. He turned to Smoker and gave him a wan smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

The dismissal was clear, but Smoker had one more thing to add. “The traitor, Vergo, didn’t call Corazon by his title. He used a name.”

Sengoku raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He didn’t use a surname. But he called Corazon Law.”

“Law,” Sengoku murmured, as though trying out the name.

Smoker left Sengoku with the name on his tongue, wondering what the former Fleet Admiral would do with the information but deciding it was above his paygrade.

Next chapter

#Tomorrow is my birthday #So a quick update is my gift to you #We're leaving Punk Hazard in this chapter y'all #Trafalgar Law #One Piece #One Piece fanfic #One Piece fanfiction #Caitlin's fic

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ambientstars · 4 years

Note

can we get prompt 14 with whittaker!master please?

Hi! Thank you for the request:)

I just want to say that, in all honesty, there’s something about this one that doesn’t sit right with me and therefore I’m not completely happy with it. But I’ve rewritten it 3 times and this is the best I could do... but I’ve made you wait for long enough now so here it is. I’ll be happy to write something different for you if you would like me to.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

- - -

Being with The Master felt good. Despite all her murderous tendencies, her inability to stay calm for more than a day and her self absorbed personality, being with her, near her, felt right.

Your life on Earth was fine. Nothing spectacular or something to shout from the rooftops, it was just fine. You had family, but you weren’t particularly close and of course you had friends, but none that you could really trust when it came down to it.

You lived alone and had a stable, but boring job that you tolerated for the sake of paying your bills, but you had always felt a clawing need for freedom, to escape your tiny life and keep running, forever if needed.

So when The Master offered you a ride to somewhere unknown, somewhere so far away from where you were used to, you jumped at the chance and although it was only supposed to be a one trip deal, you’d somehow never left The Master’s side.

Together you took on new adventures, met new life forms and changed their lives as well as yours, albeit not always for the better.

She had told you that she liked the way your eyes sparkled in the light of the galaxies you travelled to, and that the blush of your cheeks reminded her of pink sunsets, something she often opened the doors of the TARDIS for so that you could watch them together.

You wondered how someone so vile in their actions towards others could be so poetic and adoring. Granted, it was one emotion at a time with her and she would often allow herself to show her rage and hatred for everything in the universe before coming to you the next day and acting like she hadn’t threatened your life for the hundredth time.

All in all, The Master was chaotic and confusing to say the least, but at the same time, she was intriguing and endearing, and most of all incredibly passionate. Something about her kept you with her and made it impossible to even think about leaving her now.

Your crush on her was obvious. Every new person you met knew it, the TARDIS knew it and even she knew it. You were never much good at being subtle and your face would always show your feelings even when you tried your best to keep them hidden.

You felt embarrassed by your crush on her, ridiculous even. How could someone so powerful and magnificent as her be with a human so insignificant and small as you, or better yet, why would they?

The Master was decent enough to ignore the crush, well mostly. Every now and then she’d carelessly flirt with you to see the heat rise in your face and your lip get pulled into your mouth by your teeth, knowing you’d gone weak at the knees, but for the most part, she carried on like normal.

It was Sunday, the most boring day of the week according to The Master and you’d been sitting in your room quietly reading while the timelord tinkered around with the mechanics of the console to keep herself busy and free from boredom. Normally you’d enjoy the day off to rest your muscles and catch up on sleep in preparation for the next week of endless days of running and fighting, but today The Master’s thoughts were correct. Today really was boring.

After travelling with The Master for so long, you’d managed to pick up some of her bad habits, one of which was teasing mercilessly for your own enjoyment. You weren’t sure when you’d developed a liking for this new game, but you decided that now would be the perfect time to play.

You were aware that The Master knew about your crush and concluded that it would be a good idea to see how far you could push her before she said or did something about it, and for all you knew, it could end with either nothing changing or her playing into your liking for her. A win win for you.

After a moment's thought, you decided the first course of action was to test the waters by starting off slow. You wandered down the hallways until you reached the console room, book in hand.

There stood The Master, just where you left her hours ago. She didn’t even look up as you entered, too engrossed in the task at hand, her eyes narrowed at the two wires she was holding.

You casually strolled over and watched her for a moment, watching her face contort in concentration and her skilled fingers twist the opened ended wires together, and almost forgetting what you even came into the room for.

The Master had a way of moving about, always so smoothly and with purpose, like she was confident in her actions and always mentally 10 steps ahead of what she was doing. Watching her had very quickly become one of your favourite things to do whilst you’d been travelling with her and although she’d make comments such as it’s creepy and if you like the view so much, let me get you a framed picture to stare at instead, you’d much rather marvel at her than sit on your own all day.

Before The Master caught onto your staring, you rounded the console as if you were headed for the door across the room and purposely dropped your book, but made a show of it like it was an accident.

Mumbling an oops, you bent over to pick it up, wiggling your behind a little in the air as you did so. You felt a hint of stupidity at your actions, but powered on through anyways, remembering the game you were playing with yourself.

You noticed The Master look over from the corner of her eye for just a second before turning her attention back to her work, her expression never changing from uninterested. With a sigh expelled from your nose, you stood back up straight and walked out the room, finding something else to do until your next chance.

- -

Your stomach growled as you floated peacefully on the water of the TARDIS swimming pool. The quiet sound of water in your ears was calming, but the cramping of your empty stomach definitely was not.

Being aboard this ship, jumping from one time zone to the next and stopping off in the future as well as the past, meant that you had no real sense of time at all. Hours blurred into days, days into months and then before you know it, years have soared past without you even having a chance to stop and breathe. Therefore it was hard to tell what time of the day it was and you heavily relied on your natural body clock to tell you when it was time to eat or sleep.

You climbed out of the pool and towel dried yourself, although not nearly enough as water dripped from you onto the floor and trailed after you as you made your way to the kitchen for something to eat.

To your surprise, The Master stood in the kitchen, a half eaten biscuit in her hand. You figured now would be a good time to continue playing your little game.

The Master watched in silence as you opened a cupboard, standing on tiptoes, the floor under them forming a puddle from your still soaking wet hair and swimsuit. You reached up for a box of crackers, but couldn’t quite reach, exasperated sounds slipping from your throat as you stretched.

“Here.” The Master stood beside you and reached up, grabbing the box with ease.

She handed them over and you placed a hand on her arm, giving her the sweetest smile you could make and whispered a thank you.

She narrowed her eyes at you for half a second and then looked down at the wet mess you’d made on the kitchen floor. “You’re dripping water everywhere.”

And with that, The Master exited the room. Another sigh escaped you.

- -

Now dry and dressed, almost appropriately, you headed to the library, aiming to change the book you had just finished reading for another.

For some reason the TARDIS had turned cold and the thin oversized t-shirt you had on did nothing to keep you warm. You quickly put the old book back in its place and took out another, it’s spine creased and split from all the times it had been opened, and made your way over to the fireplace that automatically lit up with flames at your movement, sitting in the comfortable armchair that sat in front of the fire.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting there for, but eventually The Master walked in and sat down next to you on the arm rest of the chair, a quizzical look on her face.

“There you are.”

Another chance to play.

You bit your lip slowly and looked at her through your lashes. “You were looking for me?”

The Master shrugged. “I need to ask you something.”

You gently placed your hand on her knee and leant closer to her, careful to make it as discreet as you could. “Anything.”

She glanced at the hand on her knee and then back at your face, confusion written all over hers, but she continued nonetheless.

“Will you be able to entertain yourself here whilst I go and do some… errands?”

Not what you were hoping for her to say.

“Yeah, I guess.” You’d been doing just that for most of the day anyway.

“Great,” she stood, your hand slipping from her leg and flopping back down onto your own. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

She turned and left without another word and you bit your tongue to keep yourself from saying something stupid and risk her hearing it.

This was definitely not going how you thought it would.

You focussed your attention back to the book, the gripping storyline pulling you right back in.

- -

It had been countless hours since The Master left and you were beginning to worry. You’d spent the rest of the evening finishing the book you picked in the library and you’d made a meal for two back in the kitchen just in case she had come back in time, but you ended up leaving the leftovers in the fridge for her to eat another time.

It felt strange to be alone, really completely alone. Sure there would often be days when you had to find your own entertainment whilst The Master was busy in her ‘office’ as she called it, although it was just a big room full of junk with a solid wood desk planted in the centre of it, or when she was out on her own trip for an hour or so with you staying behind because homicide and torture just wasn’t your thing, but now you truly felt by yourself.

The Master was never gone this long and even though you knew she could very easily fend for herself, that didn’t stop the concern from settling in.

You got yourself ready for bed and decided to stay in The Master’s room for the night, that way you’d know that she got home safe when she climbed into bed herself.

You’d only ever slept in her bed a couple of times before, once when she had found you unconscious the day she first met you and there were no other beds on the TARDIS to put you in and the other time when you’d been so traumatised by a creature, whose name you couldn’t pronounce, that you’d encountered that day and you couldn’t sleep until you’d crept into The Master’s room and begged to sleep next to her for protection from your nightmares.

A soft moan slipped from your lips as you crawled into her bed, the soft sheets gliding over your skin and wrapping you up in their warm and safe cocoon. You had forgotten just how comfortable The Master’s bed was.

You rested your head on the pillow of the side you’d chosen to sleep on, the smell of her creeping into your nose and bringing a sense of calm over you, almost making you believe that here is where you belong, where you should’ve always belonged.

With heavy eyelids, you cuddled the covers to your chest and exhaled deeply, allowing your muscles to relax and settle into the supportive mattress.

The day had been long and mostly uneventful, your little game of teasing had failed embarrassingly so and you made an agreement with yourself to never try it again. You had hoped that something would’ve come from it, if only to bring you laughter, but sadly nothing.

You’d have some explaining to do tomorrow about your actions. And with that, you let your eyes fall closed and allowed sleep to encompass you.

- -

In the haze of the state between dreams, you felt the bed dip to the side of you. With sleep still holding you in, you rolled over and on instinct, draped your arm and leg over the person now beside you.

The person was warm and comfortable, their soft skin caressed your cheek as you pressed your face against them. Every part of you tingled, the pictures in your mind connecting the dots and playing out a scene in which you were held close by someone loving and kind and protective, your safety never more secure.

You felt the tickle of hair being moved from your face and tucked behind your ear, the shell of it grazed by gentle fingers. You nuzzled into the touch, the hand now on the side of your face.

The warm pad of a thumb smoothed over your parted lips and repeated a small number of times, but your slumber made it impossible to know for sure how many.

This felt right, secure. It had been so long since you’d been so close to someone whilst in such a vulnerable state, the raw exposure to whoever may be laying beside you and their actions was chilling and relieving at the same time. You felt shielded from the cruelty the universe held in this person’s arms, like no harm could ever come to you here.

“Why are you here?”

The voice was distant, came almost as a whisper, but nonetheless it brought you great comfort to hear.

“Waiting.” Your lips mumbled, your mind only partially aware of what was happening.

“Waiting for what?”

You groaned quietly, clutching the fabric of the person’s clothes under your hand. “Master.”

You felt the vibration of a low growl on your face, their chest against your cheek and the rhythm of two heartbeats lulling you in and out of sleep.

“Wake up.”

Your shoulder was shaken lightly, your eyes opening just a fraction. The room was dimly lit, only light enough to see what was right in front of you, and what, or who, was right in front of you was The Master.

You managed to wake yourself up enough to realise you were completely curled up to her, every part of you that could touch her was touching her. You slipped away and backed onto the other side of bed as quickly as your barely functioning limbs could take you and you offered an apologetic smile, an explanation unavailable right now.

“Was this part of your plan? Sleeping in my bed?” The Master didn’t sound mad, but she didn’t sound too happy either. It was hard to tell just what she might be feeling in this moment and with your mind still half asleep, you didn’t force yourself to figure it out too much.

“Plan?” You rubbed your eye in an attempt to make it feel a little less like sand was stuck in it. “What plan might that be?”

She raised a brow. “Hmm let me guess… you’ve been flaunting yourself about all day and you’ve been extra touchy-feely today, and you’ve been batting your eyes like an innocent little angel. Are you trying to seduce me?”

Busted.

You looked at her in the almost darkness for a moment, contemplating whether to admit defeat and confess or deny everything. But you knew better than to insult The Master’s intelligence, even in your dreamlike state.

“Is it working?”

The Master leaned in close, close enough to feel her aura. Your lips tingled as hers brushed against them, her finger and thumb holding your chin to keep you in place.

You looked into her eyes, searching for something unknown to you now, captivated in their depth and the secrets they held.

She smirked, looking at your ready and waiting mouth and then back into your eyes that swam with desperation.

Her hand moved to the back of your head, her fingers combing through your hair to grab a hold of it at the scalp, her face practically lighting up at the quiet gasp that escaped you as she pulled your head back seemingly for a better angle.

“No.”

Without so much as another word, she released you from her gentle hold and turned over in the bed, her body relaxing ready for sleep, silently announcing the end of the conversation.

Now only half awake and frustrated, all you could do was huff in annoyance and cradle yourself back in the warm covers. Tomorrow would be a day of awkward questions, but for now, sleeping next to the person that made you feel all your emotions at once, but mostly just serenity.

#13th doctor #whittaker!master #jodie whittaker #dark!thirteen #doctor who imagine #master x reader #whittaker!master x reader #dw imagine #dark!13

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kenkamishiro · 4 years

Text

Ishida Sui’s Review of 2019

I didn’t think I’d ever finish this with my onslaught of classes including pharmacology, but I somehow managed! 6k word count, the longest TL I’ve done to date besides Parvati’s interlude for FGO. Lots of insight into Jack Jeanne’s production and what Ishida’s been up to for the past year. It was tough to translate because it was so long, but I had a lot of fun.

Let me know if there are any mistakes, I’m sure there’s a whole bunch. Have fun reading!

Original can be found here.

＊＊＊

2019. I’m reflecting on this past year while flipping through my agenda. Since I’m writing this for my sake, there’s going to be a lot of sections without much explanation.

January

○ This was when Jack Jeanne had yet to be announced, so I was mostly doing preliminary work at the time. Stuff like “BU” and “character facial expressions” will be finished some time this month, is written in my schedule book.

○ New Year’s party in Tokyo from the 16th - 19th. The New Year’s party is a joint party that’s comprised of the 4th editorial department (Shueisha’s seinen magazine branch) that’s held every year in January. I attended the party with the staff every year during serialization, minus my first year.

2019 will be the first New Year’s party since the series ended, but I thought I should stop inviting the staff to attend since we’re not working together anymore (plus it’d be a hassle), so I didn’t really invite anyone. But the day before the event, Editor M brought up the topic inside the taxi and asked, “Are none of the staff coming this year?” (Even if they’re invited now, it’s going to be impossible, asking them to fly the next day and causing a ruckus…) When I replied, “Hey, I’m sure it’d be fun if you invited them and they all came~”, the editor contacted Goubaru-kun, and after said, “He said he’s going.” Guess he wasn’t busy. In the end, the staff during serialization and several people from OB and OG came, almost identical to the lineup from previous years, and it occurred to me that maybe I should have just invited them from the start.

Anyway, at this year’s New Year’s party, I don’t really remember much of what happened. I talked with my senpais from back when I was an assistant for Kingdom, and outside the venue I sobered up from the agoraphobic dizziness I was feeling inside. At the second party I remember people talking to me haphazardly and being photographed. I wish I’d refused. Also, I was sexually harassed by Rikudou Matsubara, my senpai from the same region as me. This New Year’s party will be my last.

February

Briefing session for the game held in Tokyo. Key visual created. It says here [on the agenda] that I want to go to Kagoshima. Every week there’s a checklist for 10 km of jogging and weight training 2-3 times a week. I spent about a week doing some composition work. It ended up being helpful for me, but it made me decide not to work anymore with people with different levels of interest from me.

○ TRPG is written for the 28th. Usually we use the DX (Double Cross) system, but this time one of our participating players, M’s schedule was under mysterious attack. As game master, taking consideration of everyone who’d made time in their schedules for tonight, I thought we could switch to Cthulhu and asked them to wait an hour. 2 hours later I finished coming up with a scenario and began the session. It was fairly fun.

March

Finish BU this month, is clearly noted down. BU stands for bust-up, which are drawings of characters in standing poses [sprites] that are common in ADV games. Normally, since it takes a huge amount of work, the BU work is always divided up. The original drawings are done by the illustrator, in this case I do the base illustrations (line drawing & colouring), and using them as the base, the department sharing the work cleans up the line drawings and recolours it...that’s how the process goes. But since I’m a mangaka and don’t have the technology needed to make gaming assets, I thought it’d be best to leave it to the pros in that field, so that was how that stage proceeded. At that point in time at least.

I also had plans written down to go to Kagoshima. Looks like I didn’t go.

○ TRPG on the 25th. Player M’s schedule lined up with ours, so we played DX with 6 PL plus me as GM. We went to the aquarium, were attacked by witches, and so on.

April

Finish BU, is faintly written down. It seems like the work was more or less completed earlier this month.

○ High school friend K’s wedding on the 6th. Up until then I’d only been to two other wedding receptions. The weddings were for a different friend from high school, and Tajika-san, one of my senpais from Kingdom. This suddenly reminds me of that time at Tajika-san’s reception, when I took a super early flight because I absolutely didn’t want to be late whatsoever, but I ended up not being able to fly for about an hour and a half because of engine trouble or whatever, so I entered at almost the same time as the bride and groom during the reception…

K’s wedding was the first time in my life where I was present all the way from the wedding to the reception, but how should I put it, I was struck by a beam of light. I don’t know who he’s getting married to, I have no clue what their relationship is like. But I was somehow bombarded...by all these thoughts that became jumbled in my head, like the energy in this place, the power of their oaths, questioning what it was, how light isn’t always justice.

I got the feeling that this was what proper, respectable humans take part in, but since I'm fine with not being a proper, respectable human, I decided to not do anything other than what my heart desires.

I'm definitely not good with places where I’m in the spotlight. But congratulations.

○ “Play Sekiro” is strongly noted down. Thank you for supporting me in the first half of 2019.

○ TRPG for the 29th - 30th. DX. Player M’s character dies.

May - June

My schedule book is starting to look more scattered now. On the other hand, since I’ve got a good memory of this time, I can write while recalling the events.

○ I did the covers for the Touken stage play book.

I drew the cover illustrations for the Touken [Ranbu] stage play that Mikasano-san, who I’m grateful to for his work on the anime and movie scripts for TG, worked on. In my mind, it feels like I'm watching the back of who I'd consider my older brother in the creative world, or a fellow comrade on another battlefield fighting to the death. I think it came out quite charmingly, so I’ll include the links for now. Link 1 | Link 2 | Link 3

During this time of work for Jack Jeanne, I was working on “model sheets”. Blueprints for the characters’ attire, not just from the front but also the internal structure.

Unlike most other games, Jack Jeanne has “performance costumes” in addition to normal attire. Because of its “revue” theme, costumes that will be worn onstage needed to be prepared. I was shocked when I suddenly admitted that I needed model sheets for 5 different performances (spring, summer, fall, winter, final) for the 6 main characters, making 30 designs in total.

Back in the TG era, these kind of drawings that I just explained, or drawings that needed a lot of layers, were a pain in the ass. Plus I wasn’t good at them, so I thought that I didn’t want to do it for the rest of my life if possible. But it seems like I have to do this myself. With a sense of determination, I decided to work solely on this for all of May. At the same time, I made nothing but curry for all my meals. There’s no deep reason behind it, but my aim was to kinda boost my ability to concentrate daily by choosing to be decisive in that action.

○ Working on model sheets It came with an unintended effect. Because I spent a month on work that required balance and consistency, my right-left checking skills got better, and completely unrelated, I improved in drawing perfect copies. The design work for the model sheets itself became really fun to do, starting around when I became obsessed with the scarf design (sumo wrestler drawing) I definitely couldn’t use for Neji’s summer costume. I discovered that it’s precisely because I’m not good at this that my labour bore fruit. I feel like this was my experience for the latter half of the year.

July

The cast members were chosen. Unlike TG, there are 6 people + 1 person who can be referred to as the main character, so it was interesting to have a cast with some breadth.

Seems like lyrical work was the main thing I worked on.

Lyrical work. In Jack Jeanne, each performance contains several songs to sing and dance to, so each one is supposed to be sung. ...hence the lyrics.

The topic of what to do with the lyrics was brought up in November 2018. What happens typically is that, let’s say there’s singing in an idol game, then a company that specializes in it is asked to produce the songs. Even for Jack Jeanne, there were several candidates I could pick and choose from. But after a quick look-through, frankly speaking, they all looked the same to me. There’s one person that’s good, it’d be great if we could get them...is what I thought, but, “Even though I don’t have the skills, I’m the one who understands this world the best,” crossed my mind. ...should I try? I tried it. To be honest, I was super embarrassed since it’d be seen by a lot of people, but it evolved into, “Who cares if you’re doing it?” And so Jack Jeanne’s lyrics were tasked to me.

I mentioned this earlier, but there are multiple songs for each performance. So if you combine those plus the opening and ending songs, that makes 17 songs in total. Lyrics for 17 songs that I’m fully responsible for. What the hell...am I doing? Maybe it was from that moment that I started losing it.

Including the lyrics that I’d been working on bit by bit every month, the remaining ones were finished in one go this July. By the time I finished everything, my current state was, “Give me more songs...let me write more lyrics!” But it wasn’t over just yet.

August

Every time I meet someone I tell this story. I’m thinking of keeping it up. Here I am, relieved to have finished the lyrics, when a message pops up on the Skype group chat. It’s from Yamashita Daisuke of Broccoli.

To briefly touch upon Yamashita Daisuke, he is a young man who’s been involved with this project since October of 2018, and a poor soul who was tasked with conducting very important meetings on his third day of working at the company.

The producer from Broccoli was going on maternity leave, so he was scouted as her replacement. As an aside, if I have to be honest, the exchanges between me and Towada-san, and Broccoli’s Jack Jeanne team up until then were quite frustrating. “How about doing it like this?” they would counter. And we’d respond with something like, “This part is going to be developed later on, and since this will become foreshadowing for the entirety of the story, it can’t be modified that easily.” This kind of situation, having to explain everything in detail one by one, going 3 steps forward and being held 2 steps back, had been going on for about 3 years, so the two of us would often whine about it over drinks, going, “When should we quit, this is ridiculous,” etc.

Finally when things began going more smoothly, the producer who was leading the project took her leave, so I wondered if we’d be able to get along with Yamashita Daisuke, but he was, how should I put it, very diligent. For the last year I've been working with people who don’t put in their best effort, so I was very hopeful and thankful to him.

But I digress. This was the gist of the message that Daisuke sent.

“Kosemura-san’s who’s in charge of musical composition wants ‘scratch vocal tracks’ for when the singers are recording.” “Does Ishida-sensei happen to know anyone he could ask for this favour?” “I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you!” “Frankly speaking, it’s okay even if they’re bad.”

Huh. Well, as you might have already guessed, even with the lyrics, it’s impossible to really understand the song at first sight without knowing what kind of rhythm, what kind of emotions are being expressed in the bar measure. Of course we’d need ‘scratch vocal tracks’ to explain the general feeling of the song.

Now, what Daisuke said was, “Do you have anyone you can ask? It’s okay even if they’re bad. Or even you can do it.” But if I found a “it’s okay even if they’re bad” kind of person, we’d still have to show them how to sing it and explain how the rhythm goes. Daisuke already knew which was probably why he asked for the favour. “The person writing the lyrics would be able to make the scratch vocal tracks the fastest.” ...come to think of it, the demo songs that Kunimitsu sent me every time that were sung using Vocaloid, weren’t they also scratch vocal tracks?

Daisuke must have been in a pinch trying to figure out how he should ask me candidly. Ishida-sensei, I couldn’t just ask you to sing it, so I had to ask in a roundabout manner.

I’d already given my answer, but I was still hesitant. It’s true that after I finished writing the lyrics for the 17 songs I’d already lost sight of myself, but if I sang, my singing would reach Broccoli and Kosemura-san’s team’s ears. But I couldn’t just leave poor Daisuke hanging.

So I consult Towada-shi, whom I’d been collaborating with in creating the scripts for Jack Jeanne, for advice. (He had been in charge of TG’s novels, and I’ve known him for a long time.) “Did you check Skype?” “I did.” “What do you think?” “Start by looking up scratch vocal tracks,” so we paid a visit to YouTube. The first search result that came up for ‘scratch vocal track’ was a video of a vocalist who was used to sing a scratch track for AKB or something. I see, so that’s what it looks like. Innocuous, but I could see it was very professionally done.

And the second result that came up was Tsunku♂-shi. The figure of Tsunku♂-shi himself recording a scratch track for his idols. The producer himself became an idol, and was singing really cutely, in his emotions and how he sang it. “This is it?” I said. “Yeah, it is,” Towada-shi agreed. If Kosemura-san and his team, and the people who will be performing the songs have to listen to it, it’d be a disservice to them to half-ass it. I don’t like people who don’t try their best. That means I have to show that attitude myself. Let’s come out of my shell for poor Daisuke as well.

“You’re gonna become Tsunku♂.” “Yeah...I’m gonna be Tsunku♂!” And that was how I became Tsunku♂.

I replied to Daisuke on the Skype group chat. “Understood, I’ll do what I can.”

So this guy, who doesn’t even know what the ‘D’ in DTM stands for, first downloads the software, and begins setting up a recording environment. Other work is pushed aside. I set 3 days to work on this.

I timidly begin working on the scratch tracks. From the perspective of someone who doesn’t have to listen to their singing for a living, it starts out as a living hell, but you get used to it as you listen to it over and over.

And so I kept learning new things. I noticed I was harmonizing with myself.

Just like Tsunku♂-shi, I’d change the voice for each character. If it was Jack (male in a male role) I’d sing like a man, and if it was Jeanne (male in a female role), then like a woman, while the main character Kisa (female) should sound cute... No, Kisa needs to be cuter! I re-recorded her part many times. Depending on the song, I’d sing for 7 people. I was Jack Jeanne now.

Tsunku♂ (I) recorded 17 songs in 3 days, and sent the data first to Towada-shi. Since I was now Tsunku♂, I no longer felt any sense of embarrassment.

“I listened to it,” the reply came, and I called him. Towada-shi was roaring with laughter. I regained the embarrassment I’d forgotten.

“Oh no, I was laughing ‘cause I was impressed,” he said, but my heart was already as fragile as that of an abandoned dog.

“Even this is a big help to Kosemura-san, and Daisuke should be grateful, right?” Yeah. Although Towada-shi guffawed at me, Daisuke will surely thank me. And then he’ll definitely tell me what a good job I did!

I dumped the music into the Skype group chat. “I did what I could,” I added.

How will Daisuke react to my Tsunku♂? I waited restlessly. Three days later on August 5th, a formal message arrived after it was received.

“Thank you very much. We will schedule a meeting with Kosemura-san…”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. My hard work got dismissed with, “Thank you very much.”

Daisuke, why? I thought you were in a pinch, so I...were...were you fooling with me from the start? Answer me! Daisuke! Just tell me I did a good job, or follow up with something, I’m fine with anything! So much for my heart being like an abandoned dog, it’s more like a grown-ass man left naked on a snowy mountain. I did what I could! This feeling was welling up inside me, but was it myself that managed to do it?

○ Later, at a meeting with Kosemura-san “It’s great that you could do this much for us. You didn’t have to do all that.” With the gist of those words, a warm blanket was finally placed over my heart, which had almost frozen to death.

“I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t sure if Sensei was the most who did it in the first place,” Daisuke said, so I decided to satisfy myself by threatening, “I’m gonna tell this story until the day I die.”

September

○ Responses to the Questions to Ishida Sui contest We did a “Ask anything to Ishida Sui” contest as a project for the art book “zakki:re”, where purchasers could apply with a postcard. I was writing the replies for them.

I thought there’d be a lot more questions about TG or its contents, but surprisingly there were a lot of questions asking for life advice. There were quite a few questions that I had to seriously think about to answer.

It was kinda tough since there were over a hundred of them, but I thought it’d be nice to get in touch like this every once in a while.

○ BU work for Jack Jeanne Once the music-related tasks like lyrical composition and scratch vocal tracks were completed, I worked on BU. ...BU work? Wasn’t it finished back in April?

Well, a similar situation arose just like what happened with the lyrics. Regarding sprite quality I might not be able to beat the pros, but since I’m the one who best understands how the characters look best and their body balance, I had decided to do all the line drawing colouring myself in June. I had no clue whether I’d make the deadline or maintain the quality, but thanks to Broccoli’s understanding, I was allowed to make it myself.

I realized once again that I’m terrible at splitting up work. If I can do it by myself, I will.

Plus, it’s, how should I put it, starting from my TG days, even though it wasn’t a lot I got to see various types of workplaces. I’d see places where there was no sense of responsibility whatsoever, or the work may have been divvied up appropriately, but it felt like they were making something without a sense of purpose, like a main plot line that isn’t going anywhere.

It’s impossible to accomplish big things with that kind of stance, and I understand that the more people that intervene, the more uncertain the core becomes, so I didn’t like that kind of approach. It makes me wonder whether there’s any meaning in creating a work that’s conservative and unchallenged, and if it’s nothing more than a money grab.

Since I don’t have any desire for material things, getting fed up about it is useless, but I just can’t help thinking about it.

Of course, it may be difficult to get what I want 100% of the time, but I want to create things in an environment that I think is beautiful, even in places that I’m slightly involved in.

...in other words, BU work is tough, but I began remaking the sprites once again by myself. This was the toughest work I’ve ever done out of everything, including the serialization...

○ Scratch vocals training camp at the end of September I went to the recording for the scratch vocal tracks. Based on the scratch tracks that I made, we got professional vocalists to sing it again properly. This is what the actual cast would use as a reference to sing. (So my version was like the pre-scratch vocal track.)

I was stuck in Tokyo for almost a week. Wake up, get ready, go to the recording studio. Come back at 8 or 9 pm, rest and sleep, repeat.

It was like I was back in school, and since I don’t have a steady lifestyle, I enjoyed it.

Kosemura-san’s team is really great, and I know I mentioned this before, but I felt like their workplace was a very healthy production site. When I was drawing manga, I never had much time to talk with fellow manga artists, and I’ve never had the chance to experience what other professionals’ workplaces were like, so it was very exciting for me to see people as professionals tackle one thing seriously. The vocalists were as amazing as I expected, and although my scratch tracks were played at a loud volume to annoy me, I had a great time.

The game might have a high level of entry, but it’s worth listening to just for the songs, is what I truly thought.

○ Parting words to Editor M-shi This might have been back in August, but from 2018 to 2019 I had a lot of things on my mind, so I began talking to the editor.

In between the 11 years of serialization starting from my rookie days, I’d received guidance from him so it wasn’t easy, but I expressed to him that we should keep our distance for any future works.

“I want to become absorbed in myself, not to Ishida Sui or Tokyo Ghoul,” I told him. The other part said he also felt the same way, and accepted it. The next time we meet, I hope we can talk about what we’re into, what we’re going crazy over, he said.

And so, 2 months after that conversation was the scratch vocals training camp in Tokyo, and I had the chance for the two of us to talk again. That day I was completely tuckered out from recording the scratch track, but it was a day filled with accomplishments.

He took me to a restaurant with delicious food in Ebisu or somewhere, and after concluding our brief business meeting, I tried throwing out the cliched, “So, what are you up to lately?” As the lead writer, there was a part of me that was curious about how he was doing after that talk we had.

The editor began talking about homemade curry.

...that’s what he’s into? I decide everything from selecting and picking the ingredients myself, and next time I want Ishida-kun to also see how delicious the curry is...he told me passionately, but how should I put it, the conversation wasn’t very spicy.

The food was delicious.

October

○ BU work

What’s hard about BU work is that it’s difficult to separate the layers according to the face, hair and clothes, and they all have to have the same style and touch to it. If it was manga, then maybe...no, even in manga, there’s still some need to match the outfits, but it doesn’t really matter to that extent.

It’s because I don’t like game sprites. “This character has so much energy from their sideways pose! Amazing!” This never happens…

Around this time of the year, my older sister called this elaborate task, “the task you’re probably the worst at.”

○ The bean life I’m not really fat in particular, but I made up my mind to try dieting. At the time, my body fat percentage was at 18%, and I’ve never been below 10% ever in my entire life, so I’m thinking of aiming for that. Instead of eating rice with unseasoned chickpeas and black soybeans, I began my lifestyle of consuming vegetables and cuts of meat with less fat. Hopefully I can achieve my goal in about six months’ time.

○ Ano-chan, Honda Keisuke, and I After Ano-chan left “You’ll Melt More!”, her official Twitter account removed every single account she was following, but for some reason only two people remained. Those two people were Honda Keisuke and Ishida Sui. To Ano-chan, Honda Keisuke and Ishida Sui belonged in the same category. After some time passed, even we were removed, but I consider this one of my hottest mysteries of 2019. Ano-chan! I’ll always be waiting, so let’s have tea some time with Honda Keisuke!

November

○ BU Need I say more.

○ Main cast’s first recording session from the 26th - 27th.

I visited Tokyo with Towada-shi to supervise the main cast members’ recording session. Wow, everyone was so amazing~

Of course, not just the main characters. Terasaki Yuka-san who plays the main character, Tachibana Kisa, was wonderful as well.

In this kind of game genre, the position as the main character feels less important than the male characters, but I want her to stand firmly in this story’s script. I thought it’d be nice to have the main character not stand out too much and have her watch over the male characters, and I felt that Terasaki-san’s voice and acting fit that image perfectly.

About the cast members, it seems like there’ll be a chance to speak to them eventually, so I’ll come back again.

○ 1 month into the bean life I’m steadily losing weight. Basically I always work from home. I go to the gym and supermarket 2-3 times a week. I started cooking for myself. I got a brand new refrigerator to replace the one that suddenly broke. It actually cools things down now. Living standards have risen.

December

○ I break off ties with M who I played TRPG together with. He was a former classmate who was even chief assistant at some point during the series’ run, but eventually he ended up getting fired due to falling asleep at work. He said he’d attend the last session for the story that day (although his own character had already died), and I was working on a schedule to accommodate him, but once again he cancelled at the last minute.

It’s fine to cause trouble for me (although I’ll probably get pissed), but I can’t overlook treating others the same way. And it’s not the fact that his schedule didn’t match up, it’s because he was complete trash who didn’t know how to behave like an adult once he made plans with others, that I felt sorry for the other TRPG people who took time out of their schedules. Since I felt ashamed when I was together with him, I decided I’d had enough.

This was a year where I cut ties with a lot of people, but I think what they had in common was that I was ashamed to be with them. From now on, I don’t want to associate with such people.

What’s more, when I finally told him, he didn’t even try to deal with it and just gave up, responding, “So that’s how you felt about me. Okay. My bad.”

I won’t go anywhere with those kind of people again.

○ The bean life ⇒ the potato life. I changed it to potatoes.

○ BU is over...

On December 17th, I finally finished the BU work that I spent ageeeeeeeees on.

Although I said that serialization is tough, as long as I finished 18 pages a week that was it (although there were times where I was chasing myself with other work), so I could finish it as long as I didn’t sleep. I somehow managed to finish both the manuscripts and the colour illustrations this way, so expecting BU to be similar, I wasn’t really scared about it never ending, but BU truly was despair. When is this gonna end? I’m even working super hard… This is how it went on the entire time for over a month.

There were about 200 different sprites I had to make myself, including the different costumes and poses, and I had to do all of them.

For one thing, when, “This process is necessary,” came out, I had to go through the same process roughly 200 times, that it felt like I was facing the final boss who already transformed many times. Also, it’s like not equipping myself with a lot of equipment and recovery items in the previous town, but the dungeon I somehow managed to enter is extremely dangerous and even though there’s no safe points anywhere in sight, the boss suddenly comes up behind you, and you go I’m gonna die I’m gonna die

○ If you eat a lot while you’re losing weight, you’re going to have a bad time.

On December 15th I had trouble concentrating, so I tidied up the living room, created a space in the middle of the room, and darkened the lights. After an hour of meditating, only the sound of my breathing could be heard in the room, and so I went back to work with renewed concentration after confronting the issue (like a monk?).

On December 16th, I’ve been working the entire time since morning. I thought today was going to be the last day, but an entire day has passed and I don’t have any energy...

I’ll buy a midnight snack, replenish my energy, and end it once and for all. I’m trying to lose weight, but I went to the convenience store while thinking about how I’m gonna eat a katsu sandwich (I didn’t have the energy to cook).

While looking for something at a convenience store I can eat during weight loss, I think back over the last few months.

Like how it seems like BU is finally over, how a lot of things have happened, how I’m working hard, how lately I’ve been eating only potatoes, vegetables and meat.

And then I suddenly thought, “I wonder if the reason I don’t have any energy is because I haven’t had any rice lately.”

...I thought I should go on a diet in October, so I’ve been living a very modest life since then. Thanks to that, my weight has steadily decreased, and my body fat percentage has gone down 3% to 15%. What will happen if I continue with my relatively strict dietary restrictions during this difficult time?

...even if you’re losing weight, there’s a technique you can set up to binge eat during periods where weight loss stagnates, called cheat day (though results may vary), but what is it that makes no-cheating so inefficient even for weight loss?

...should I have a cheat day today?

“Huh, is it really okay?” I asked my mind. “Do it!” was the answer I got. From that moment, everything around me morphed into things I could eat.

No exaggeration, my knees trembled.

I crammed into my shopping basket carbohydrates, carbs, more carbs… It’s okay just for today, I say as I shove cream puffs, dorayaki, pudding, Family Mart chicken and ice cream. (Even if it's a cheat day, it’s probably not a good idea to take non-nutritional foods, but shh.)

With food in both hands and in high spirits, the first thing I ate was the delicious part of the Family Mart chicken.

I groaned loudly, all alone in the room.

Alright, let’s finish this work! I was energized, but my blood sugar levels spiked so much that I felt extremely sleepy and went to bed instead.

The next day on the 17th, I wake up at 4 am and immediately notice something unusual. My body is burning. I’m sweating.

I immediately wake up, and overflowing with energy, I head for my desk. I’m working actively, and I finish the BU work. It felt like I was pushing forward with only positive energy, feeling uplifted.

I break out a laugh at a slight joke I found funny from a foreign drama (The Mentalist) I’m playing while working. The greenery of the plants and the lighted sink glisten, and the scenery is vivid.

What is this?

I suddenly recall the story of a YouTuber I saw recently. He lives in a region where medical marijuana is legalized, and he explained in detail what changes would occur if you smoked cannabis.

To put it roughly, you feel calm and your senses sharpen. Trivial things can become funny, and funny videos can make you roar with laughter.

Then maybe...I thought, I'll watch Nagareboshi (a comedy duo) on YouTube. Usually I go, haha, that's funny! But that day I exploded with laughter...all of their videos were just too funny.

I learned that when you’re losing weight and suddenly eat a lot, it alters your mind and body as if you smoked cannabis. (※ Just to be clear, I don’t know what cannabis is like.)

Thus the BU work ended with me being high as a kite.

(※ I’m covering it with mosaics for now. I’ll remove it once I can announce it.)

○ I stopped playing TRPGs. I’ve been doing it for about two and a half years, but it also helped me in honing my creative skills. I’d sometimes perform, so it was useful when I was recording the scratch vocals… It was a good experience, managing to vicariously live the energy of ending a story. It was a story about a group of friends, so it was easy to appreciate.

Summing up 2019

After the weekly series finished in 2018, I was in a daze for a few months, but in 2019 I worked only on Jack Jeanne for the year.

This year I tried various things, and trite as it may seem, felt the possibilities within myself expanding. I had many opportunities to realize how important it is to keep a distance from bad things that don’t do anything for me.

During my work on Jack Jeanne, I vaguely thought about my future creations. The work I’m doing now in game production is fun so I wonder if I can keep working in this field, but I’d also like an environment where I can release things more constantly.

I can’t promise anything specific, but I’m going to work on things that I want to do.

I look forward to what 2020 has to offer. Have a happy New Year.

2019.12.31 Ishida Sui

#Jack Jeanne #Ishida Sui #Translations #my translations #time to hibernate

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Watch What Happens - Chapter 22

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst, Swearing

Words: 3,372

A/N: Again, special thanks to @ithinkimawriter for beta-reading this chapter and her encouragement! All the love goes to her!

It was hard for Arthur to fathom that he was backstage at his idol's show. Being there in the dressing room, sitting in front of the vanity mirror with all its lights, was incredible. If he hadn't been able to feel the bristles of the brush when he put foundation on, the cool of the water as he drank it out of the fancy glass they'd provided, or perceive the way the warm smoke from his cigarette filled his lungs with every drag, he would have been sure this was all make-believe.

The nearby table had a set of bowls with various snacks. He wasn't hungry, but he tried them anyway, wanting to keep himself busy. The round, beige nuts, a variety had hadn't eaten before, had a buttery flavor he liked - he'd have to ask Y/N what kind they were when she got there. And there were individually wrapped pieces of chocolate with a gooey center - he stuck a few of those in his pocket for later. There was also a gelatin pyramid with fruit and marshmallows suspended in it; he stayed away from that completely.

Bouncing up and down on his feet, he hung onto the open front of his suit jacket, pulling at the soft, red fabric. He cocked his head and looked in the mirror. His hair was slicked back more neatly than at the open-mic night. The skin of his face was a bit smoother, the lines in it softened by make-up and the gentle lighting of the room. He'd done a good job with his appearance, he thought as he fixed the collar of his white shirt. Now he just had to get through his material.

He sat in the chair before the vanity and started paging through his notebook, chuckling to himself. It had been impossible to memorize everything he'd written the past few days, though he knew one or two jokes by heart. He sometimes had difficulty with retention, anyway. Reading his set would be sufficient if his delivery was correct. If he could get the words out, it would work.

There was a knock at the door, then it suddenly opened. More emotion than expected filled Arthur when he turned to see Murray Franklin, the man he'd fantasized of being loved and accepted by ever since he was a little boy. His chest tightened, and he didn't try to hide the watering of his eyes, rising from his chair excitedly and taking the man's hand. "I feel like I know you," Arthur said. "My mother and I have been watching you forever."

Murray simply smiled, nodded, and delivered instructions: nothing too edgy, no dirty jokes, and no cursing. Arthur would be right on after Dr. Sally. "Didn't you have a guest?"

"She's not here yet. But she will be," Arthur answered, nodding to convince himself Y/N would run into the room any minute.

"Good. Someone will come get you, okay? Good luck," Murray said.

"Thanks, Murray."

Once the the host left and the door closed behind him, Arthur eased into the make-up chair and let out a long breath. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. The airing of the show was going to start in ten minutes. She'll be here. She wouldn't miss this. She wouldn't do that to you. He turned to the news playing on television. All he could do was wait and hope she'd show up soon.

~~~~~

Getting into the building had been straightforward. The doorman had asked for Y/N's name, she'd said it was "Melissa Treble," and, after finding her on the guest list, he'd let her through the backstage entrance. He hadn't even asked for an ID. It left her wondering if they were always lax, or her still being dressed in her office clothes had helped. Despite the ease of entry, her heart was hammering in her chest. She held her handbag to her as if some invisible force might rip it away. Straightening the visitor badge clipped to her blouse, she tried to walk as nonchalantly as possible, searching for a map of the building.

When she found the elevators, she read the directory hanging between them carefully. NCB news studios were on the fourth floor, and the offices for it were on the fifth. She wasn't going to try to run into the studio while they were in the middle of a broadcast and get arrested for trespassing. That wouldn't do. She decided to look for the stairwell and walk to the offices' floor. The stairs would be less crowded, she assumed, making it unlikely she'd be seen.

As she climbed, her steps growing slower with every floor, she took off her heels. The concrete was cold on her nylon-stockinged toes. But the discomfort kept her focused on the task at hand instead of allowing her to fixate on being nervous. The anxiousness she felt wasn't only for herself, but also for Arthur. She knew what she was doing was a desperate, last ditch attempt at making a difference. That even if she succeeded in getting her information to someone, it didn't mean anything would be done with it.

But Arthur was putting himself out there, against her advice, on the show of the asshole who'd made fun of his disability. Though she hadn't seen him have an attack since last week, she hoped he wouldn't start laughing uncontrollably. And that his new stand-up wasn't only filled with cute jokes, which would invite unkind snickers. She simply wanted him to succeed. Perhaps that would help him shed the insecurity she knew he still carried, and he'd be free to display the grace she'd seen glimpses of when he dared to trust himself. Maybe he'd finally realize how terrific he was.

She rested against the railing when she reached the fifth floor, then opened the metal door leading out of the stairwell. Sticking her head into the hallway, she looked each way, relief filling her when she saw the emptiness of the perpendicular corridors. She snuck out and held her breath as she shut the door behind her. So far so good.

It was impossible for her to know which way to turn - it was a fifty/fifty chance either way - so she picked the way with the fewest illuminated office lights. Keeping her shoes in her hand, she walked quietly along the wall, reaching into her purse and grabbing the envelope with "NCB News" typed on the front. She needed to find a door labeled "reports" or "tips" or something, anything that sounded vaguely like they'd look at her notes instead of throwing them away.

"What do you mean you didn't receive the finance report? I faxed it over this afternoon," a man's voice said, coming from one of the nearby offices. Y/N slunk back, creeping into the door of an open, presently unoccupied office behind her. The sound of papers being shuffled echoed against the linoleum floor. She closed her eyes, trying hear his movements over the pounding pulse in her ears. "Hold on, hold on. I'll bring it down to you," the man continued.

At the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, she moved to crouch behind a desk. She bit her knuckle to stop a chuckle at the ridiculousness of a grown woman playing hide-and-seek in an office building. The man walked by, grumbling to himself the whole time. When she heard the distant ding of the elevator, she tip-toed to the door and looked into the hallway.

Y/N considered the best option. The man's office door was open. He had mentioned reports. This was as good a chance as any. She darted across the corridor, dropped the envelope on his desk, and scurried back towards the exit. Heading back to the stairwell, she broke into silent sprint as she got closer. She tried to stop before slamming into the door. But her slippery nylons caused her to slide and bang into it as it opened. Ignoring the possibility that she'd just given herself away, she started booking it down to the second floor so she could see Arthur.

The show was already being aired as she walked to his dressing room, trying to catch her breath. Monitors in the hallway were playing Dr. Sally's latest advice and Franklin's stupid quip about how he would try her tips with his next wife. When she reached the door labeled "Arthur Fleck," she didn't knock before opening it.

"Y/N..." Arthur sprang up from his chair and went to her, taking her hand in his. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it."

Smiling, she leaned back against the door and exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry," she said, giggling, trying to expel the stress in her body. "There were a lot of stairs. But, thanks to you, I did it." She laughed lightly, and started rummaging in her purse. "It's out of my hands now. Here," she said, pulling out a black-eyed Susan. She stuck it in his jacket pocket and gave it a light pat. Then she took a few seconds to look him over, appreciating how his suit accentuated the lankiness of his physique. "You look great. Are you nervous?"

The corner of his mouth crooked uncertainly as he angled his head to look down at the flower. "A little. But you're here." He gave a small shrug. "Maybe everything will be okay."

She only had a few moments to tighten his red and gold tie before a producer came to get him. The peck she gave Arthur was quicker than she would have liked, but he was already half out the door. With a grasp of his hand, she was able to stop him for a split second. "Be yourself and don't let them mock you."

~~~~~

Arthur closed his eyes as he waited behind the curtain to go on stage, a hint of ire joining the strains of anxious excitement in his frame. They were playing that terrible Pogo's tape again, and Murray was telling Dr. Sally he thought Arthur had problems. He needed to focus in order to do the entrance he'd practiced.

He stretched an arm in front of him, then circled his closed fists, one over the other, until an open hand was held over his head as he breathed out. Then he extended his arms, one in front of him and one back, as far as he could, before bringing his hand back to smooth down his chest and stomach. Arthur could sense the producer next to him staring his way as he performed his strange ballet, then stepping back from him. But Arthur didn't care. The movements would soothe and, he hoped, center him enough so he could get out onto that stage and say what wanted.

As the multi-color curtain was opened for him, he was struck by how blinding and hot the stage lights were. And the spotlight was a hell of a lot brighter than the one at Pogo's. Still, he stepped out with polish, gave the audience a confident nod and wave, and went to Murray's desk. After firmly shaking Murray's hand, he approached Dr. Sally. Compelling himself to be brave, he took her offered hand, kissed her cheek sweetly, and whispered a soft, "Thanks." She looked a bit confused, but he thought he detected amusement, too. Then he wiped off the yellow chair next to Murray's desk and sat down, adjusting himself and crossing his legs, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

His breath caught as he looked up into the audience. This was it. This was real. This was the culmination of a dream. There were hundreds of people sitting there, cheering for and seeing him. And there were even more at home watching him on television. His lips parted as his gaze roved over the crowd. He'd barely heard Murray speaking when his question broke through the haze he was in, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Arthur said quietly, nodding. "This is exactly how I imagined it."

"Well, that makes once of us," Murray quipped.

That and the audience's laughter brought Arthur back. He forced himself to smile and remember he wasn't there only as a guest. But also as a prop.

"So," Murray started. "I know you're a comedian. You live here in Gotham. Backstage you said you grew up watching this show with your mother?"

Turning to him, Arthur nodded, loosening his shoulders, trying to be self-assured. "That's right, Murray."

Murray gestured towards the camera almost directly in front of them. "Is she watching tonight? Do you want to say hi?"

Arthur knew greeting his mother would be the usual thing to do. But, apart from brief asides, he hadn't been able to think about Penny without angrily tearing up. He clenched his jaw and waved the suggestion away. "No."

After a pause, Murray continued. "Well, have you been working on any new material? You wanna tell us a joke?"

The throng in the studio roared, applause filling Arthur's ears. He didn't answer immediately, reveling in their attention. "Yeah?" he asked them, his beam becoming genuine. His throat clenched as he straightened his legs and put his hands on his knee. It was hard to believe, but they actually seemed to want to listen to him. "Okay." Flashing Murray a grin, he pulled his journal from the waistband of the back of his trousers.

Murray started in on Arthur as he soon as he began flipping through the pages. "He's got a book. A book of jokes." As Arthur searched, Murray continued to badger. "Take your time. We've got all night."

Arthur gave Murray side-eye and chuckled to himself as he found what he was looking for. "Okay, okay. Here's one." He swallowed, then took a deep breath. "Knock knock"

Murray pointed at the book. "And you had to look that up?"

At the sound of everyone laughing at him, Arthur’s face became serious. Murray was already making the effort to be mean to him. Arthur looked at Murray's co-host, seated next to Dr. Sally on the couch. His guffaws were the loudest. "I wanna get it right," Arthur said earnestly. "Knock knock."

"Who's there?" Murray answered exaggeratedly.

"It's the police, ma'am. Your son jumped off of Wayne Tower." Arthur started to snicker. "He's dead."

"Oh, no, no, no." Dr. Sally rounded on him as the audience groaned. "No. You cannot joke about that!"

Murray sounded annoyed. "Yeah, that's not funny, Arthur." He tapped his cue cards against his desk, addressing the crowd as he admonished him. "That's not the kind of humor we do on this show."

"Okay. I'm-" Nodding furiously, Arthur continued. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just, you know..." He tightened his mouth. "It's been a rough few days, Murray." Sniffling, he tried to smile though the pain welling in him. "My mother having a stroke, finding out I was abused as a kid, trying to meet my father."

Murray pressed his lips together before seemingly deciding to try to save the segment. "It sounds like you had a tough week." Arthur flinched when Murray nudge his arm with his elbow. "Come on, tell us another wisecrack. But a family one, this time." he said, pasting on a showbiz smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes and closed his book. "Why is everyone so upset about my joke?" he asked.

Murray began to scold him. "Because that's too serious to kid about. People who would try that are sick. We should-"

"I've been that person," Arthur said, throwing his forearm down on his leg. "And if it was me dying on the sidewalk, you'd walk right over me." He drew his brows together, turning more fully in his seat. "You think it's funny to play my video, to invite me here to make fun of me, but I can't joke about what I know?"

There was disbelief in Murray's face, as if he couldn't believe Arthur was calling him on his bullshit. "That video got you here. On the biggest TV show in Gotham." The crowd cheered. They seemed to be taking Murray's side.

Fury grew in Arthur as they brushed off his words. "Comedy is subjective, Murray. Isn't that what they say?” Didn't the people of this city know the harm they'd caused him over the years? That tape had tormented him. And they didn’t even realize they were laughing because of his condition. “All of you," he said straight to the audience, "the system that knows so much, decides what's right or wrong. The same way you decide what's funny," he pointed at himself, "or not." Giggling, he indicated Murray.

Murray was looking over Arthur's shoulder as he spoke. "Look, Arthur, if you're not careful, we're going to have to stop this interview."

Arthur felt like he was being ignored, again. They thought what he had to say wasn't worth the air it took to speak it. He tried to take a deep breath, reminding himself Y/N was watching backstage. That he could finally look forward to the weeks ahead because, at last, someone loved him.

But as much as her affection had improved his life, helped him get through every day, it wasn't enough to erase his hurt and anger. And now that he had this platform and was being seen, now that he'd opened his mouth, he couldn't stop talking. His volume rose as he continued. "Have you seen what it's like out there, Mur-ray? Do you ever actually leave the studio? I've been in enough observation rooms to make a few observations."

The wetness in his eyes distracted him for only a moment before he continued. "Nobody’s civil anymore!” he yelled. But then his voice got quiet, cracking on his next words. “Nobody thinks what it's like to be the other guy."

He thought of the possibility of being thrown out of his apartment, and Mr. Wayne socking him in the face when all he wanted to do was talk. "You think men like Thomas Wayne ever think what it's like to be someone like me? To be somebody but themselves? They don't. They just think we'll sit there and take it."

Murray scoffed at him. "There's so much self-pity, Arthur. I'll tell you-"

"And you're awful, Murray."

“Me? I’m awful?” Murray sounded incensed. “Oh, yeah? How am I awful?”

The skin of Arthur's chin trembled as he tried to hold himself together. "I never had a father growing up. I always wished he was you. I loved you. But you're just like the rest of 'em."

Murray folded his arms and leaned on his desk, narrowing his eyes at him. “You don’t know the first thing about me, pal. I invited you on here and all you're doing is insulting me.”

Arthur swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, pressing his lips together. "How about another joke, Mur-ray?"

"I think we've heard enough of your jokes," Murray said sternly.

If he was about to get kicked off, Arthur wanted to end with a zinger. "What's the worst part of having a mental illness?" he started, feeling tears start despite his efforts to hold them back.

Murray nodded towards someone in the back. "Gene, cut to commerci-"

Arthur interrupted, his voice breaking. "People expect you to behave as if you don't."

It got quiet, then. Arthur decided no one knew how to respond to the reality in the joke he'd just told. As the silence from the audience, the other guests, and Murray lingered, he started chuckling. He placed his hand on the arm of the chair and squeezed, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his palm as his body shook and he bent forward with laughter.

After a minute, he heard the click of high-heels approaching. When Y/N knelt in front of him, he met her gaze and let out a breath of relief. "Y/N," he said, swiping at his nose. She'd put her hand on his knee. He reached to cover it with his fingers, holding tight. "You're still here," he whispered.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she nodded, her eyes rimmed red. She squeezed gently as she addressed him with a shaky voice. "Let's go home."

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @clowndaddyfleck @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies@invisiblewispofwhimsey @let-the-stars-fall-in-the-abyss @gruffle1

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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spicyfloaty · 3 years

Text

Give & Take | Chapter 3

pairing: kacchako

genre: slowburn/fluff

words: 2.7k

summary: Ochako's grades are slipping. Bakugo is dangerously nearing suspension, or worse, expulsion. A certain twist of fate pairs them together for tutoring sessions. He teaches her math. She keeps him from getting suspended. A simple exchange, but what if this only brings them closer than necessary?

header credits: @alexbenedetto

[READ ON AO3]

Chapter Two

Chapter Three: Emotional Whiplash Courtesy of Shoto Todoroki

Ochako’s lunch looked less appetizing despite the fact that she got her favorite meal and weirdly enough, the same could also be said about today’s breakfast. She couldn’t help but lose her appetite thanks to the stampede of thoughts clouding her mind, twisting her stomach in knots that could intimidate a senior girl scout. She might as well be sporting a flashing neon sign that read, I have a tutoring session with Bakugo Katsuki later. Help.

Her train of thought comes to an abrupt halt, only to go full throttle, bringing her back to the events that took place yesterday. It was bad enough that she fell asleep in class, it was another thing to be woken up by the one person she wanted to desperately avoid at all costs. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure of what happened after that, but the clearest images she could conjure in her head were warm hands and the indisputable figure of Bakugo’s back facing her as he walked out of the classroom. Ochako wants to give herself the benefit of the doubt and believe that she didn’t do anything stupid in between the gaps in her memory other than Bakugo being the one to wake her from her slumber.

Her mind wanders to this morning, Ochako didn’t miss the indiscriminate glances Bakugo occasionally threw her way within the cluster of their classmates coming together in their dorm’s common room before they make their way to class. She pushed aside the little voices that whispered ridiculous assumptions behind the sudden attention she was getting from him, instead, she reasons that Bakugo was most likely just thinking along the same lines as her, their upcoming session, that is. His thoughts might not be as all-consuming as hers, but she couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d even bother giving her the time of day.

A hand makes its way in front of her face, waving up and down, “Are you all right, Uraraka?” She realizes that she had been staring at her lunch tray for a concerning amount of minutes, “Is there something wrong with your lunch?”

Iida has a worried look etched on his face, she notices Todoroki and Deku also wearing the same expression, “Oh no, I’m fine! I was just caught up in my own head, that’s all,” She says with a dismissive wave. She instantly regrets not leaving out the last part of her sentence when she sees Iida’s eyebrows knit together, “Oh? Is everything okay?”

As much as Iida’s overwhelming concern warmed her heart, Ochako would much rather not have Bakugo as the table’s next topic of discussion, “Yes, I promise it’s not a big deal.” She manages to give her friend one last reassuring smile before trying to change the topic, “You were saying something about today’s hero training activity? I heard that All Might’s planning on having us disarm bombs again.”

Finally, this shifts the attention away from her, “Ah, yes, I’m looking forward to surpassing my record from the previous one!” Iida replies, Ochako exhales a breath of relief, thankful that her thoughts about Bakugo led her quick thinking to the subject of bombs.

“All Might also mentioned that today’s bombs would be more difficult to disarm,” Deku chimes in, “It’s most likely because he decided to have us use real ones this time instead of the simulated ones we used last time!”

Ochako takes in the sparkle of enthusiasm in Deku’s eyes and the overflowing amount of admiration in his voice, the mention of All Might never fails to elicit that kind of reaction from his biggest fan. She almost smiles fondly at the thought if not for the heavy feeling that spreads across her chest. Her mind drifts to a distant memory of the sleepless nights she used to share with him, heavy eyelids, phone pressed against one ear as she listens to Deku rattle on and on about the new limited edition All Might figurine he bought that day.

Oh, how she wished things were still like that.

“Do you think he’ll have us perform in pairs again?” Iida’s question plops additional weight on her chest, I certainly hope not.

Todoroki lifts his attention from his soba and places it on Deku and Ochako, “If that were the case, I’m confident that Midoriya and Uraraka would finish in record time just like before.” Ochako instinctively glances at Deku and he follows suit, but they look away just as quickly. If there was one thing that this conversation did not need, it was the awkwardness that already plagued Deku and Ochako’s relationship. It also didn’t need the dreadful silence that immediately follows, occupying their table as if it were a fifth person sitting alongside them.

Iida looked as if he’d much rather be anywhere than to be seated between her and Deku while Ochako tried her very best not to make a face that screamed she’d rather not be in this table at all. Todoroki, as usual, is clueless about the new atmosphere he had brought down upon the table, he takes another bite out of the soba that reminded Ochako of her own legs, had she not been sitting down right now, it would’ve been an impossible task for her to stand upright.

“Yeah,” Deku says softly, “I’m sure we would.”

A part of Ochako thanked him for breaking the painful silence gripping both of their necks, the other part of her sank in a vicious pool of guilt. Deku had always been the one making a conscious effort in trying to patch up the relationship that had both of them speechless around one another and even if they had something to say, it wouldn’t make it past the confines of your regular greeting or anything school related, on the field or within the classroom.

An image of Deku’s text from last night flashes in her mind, it had no more than 10 words, but it was the most they had ever spoken to one another after what happened last year. Hey, are you okay? You don’t usually sleep in class. Once again, it was Deku who takes the first step. She wished she had more to say than just I’m okay, but she had nothing. What’s worse is that she lied, of course she wasn’t okay, but would she really admit that to anyone, let alone him?

Ochako would have sunk deeper into guilt if it weren’t for Todoroki once again speaking up to point out something she had almost forgotten about.

“Uraraka, Mr. Aizawa called you in his office the other day,” he begins, putting his chopsticks down. Ochako feels her breath hitch at the unexpected mention of her meeting with Aizawa, the weight of her guilt suddenly exploding into confetti inside her gut the minute her thoughts fly back to Bakugo like persistent flies on a moldy sandwich. She was going to get whiplash because of all the shifts in emotion this clueless, soba-loving boy was inflicting upon her.

Todoroki’s gaze focuses on her, “Bakugo was also summoned not long before, are these two events related in some way?” he asks as if it were the 17th century and he was a king questioning his subjects. She thought that she had already escaped every possibility of talking about Bakugo but here it comes barging into the conversation like the metric ton wrecking ball that it was.

She knew that if she told them the entirety of her conversation with Aizawa, she’d only make her friends worry about her more than they already should. She even has yet to tell them about the part time job she took about a month ago at a small cafe in a nearby town to help cover her father’s medical expenses, not to mention the huge decline in income for their family’s business. The times when she had to book it to the train station the minute their last period ends were often explained to curious classmates as extra martial arts lessons with Gunhead, not that she has anything to show for it since she was probably washing cutlery during that time rather than learning how to do a proper axe kick with a pro hero.

She decides to keep her answer brief so as to not give anything away, “I’m gonna be having tutoring sessions with Bakugo from now on.” Thinking about it in her head, the idea never really struck her as something peculiar, but hearing it from her own voice for the first time with her closest friends as her audience, she realizes how weird it actually sounded.

To her surprise, Deku is the first to react, “Kacchan?” The way he said it didn’t sound like he disagreed with the idea, he just sounded genuinely surprised.

“That’s...unusual” Todoroki points out. It’s not like Ochako could deny that, the last person anybody would consider to be capable of helping someone understand what a definite integral was would be Bakugo.

“Well,” Iida interjects, “as um unusual as the idea may be, I believe it would be a wonderful opportunity for you, Uraraka.” Ochako wanted to hug the boosters out of Iida right then and there, but he wasn’t finished yet, “But was there...,” he trails off for a while.

“...Another option?” Shoto finishes.

“Well, Iida and Momo are already helping Kaminari, Jirou, and Mina, while Deku--,” she pauses. For a moment, she had forgotten that Deku was sitting one seat apart from her, and now he was learning about how she had considered being tutored by him instead. “uh Deku...was already busy training with All Might.” Her eyes dart to anywhere except for Deku’s direction.

“What about me?” Todoroki offers, “I’d be more than willing to tutor you.”

Ochako considers this for a short while before remembering how much it was necessary for Bakugo to be the one who tutors her, “No! I mean--I appreciate it, really I do, but,” Her eyes quickly dart to Bakugo’s table before focusing on Todoroki once more, “I’m okay with this.”

Todoroki studies her for another second or two before replying, “I see,” he picks up his chopsticks and points them towards her, “If you’ve already set your mind to it, then I will no longer push the idea.” He punctuates his sentence with a slurp of soba.

“Bakugo is a consistent top student, yes, though he can be a bit--,” Iida clears his throat, “ill-mannered and quite...loud.” He turns to Ochako, the same concerned expression taking over his face once more, “Are you sure about this?”

This makes her think. Bakugo surely wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around nor was he someone she was over the moon to be learning one on one from. Despite this, she was at least 95% sure about her decision since she believed that everybody can learn a thing or two from anybody, even from a piece of work such as Bakugo Katsuki and as if to read her mind, “Kacchan can be difficult to get along with, but I think that there’s a lot Uraraka can learn from him.” Deku adds, “I don’t think his attitude should overshadow the fact that he’s an amazing person, and maybe someone who could be just as amazing as a mentor.”

It’s been almost two years since Ochako had first met Deku, but it still never fails to amaze her whenever he praises Bakugo like this. She’s heard stories from when Deku and Bakugo were still in middle school, but they would always be told in a way where it would never be truly complete. Then again, it was Deku she was hearing it from. Ochako doesn’t think she would ever truly come to understand how tough those times must have been on him, but even that won’t stop Deku from listing all the things about Bakugo that he deemed amazing.

It was this sentiment from Deku that gave her the strength she needed to face Deku head on with a small smile, “Yeah.”

The boys eventually tangent to a conversation about Present Mic’s lecture when Ochako’s gaze finds its way to Bakugo’s table once again. Bakugo had Kirishima’s arm hooked around his neck and a deep scowl on his face that made her wonder how Kirishima was still alive and breathing, moreover, how his arm was still attached to his body. Despite this though, she somehow already knew the answer. Bakugo was someone who could blast your head off if you looked at him the wrong way, but at the same time he was also the kind of person who would push a friend to their limits no matter how much they tell themselves that they can’t do it. He’d be the type of person who would take absolutely no shit from anyone because he'd be too busy being the best version of himself he could be.

Bakugo’s scowl morphs into a grin in response to Mina hitting Kaminari upside the head and it sends a flutter to 3 different parts of her stomach. It’s probably the lack of food in her stomach right now, she should really get to eating.

Watching the captivating dynamic of the neighboring table, Ochako can’t help but wonder if he was asked the same question as her by his friends. Had he told them about her? What did they have to say, nevermind, what did he have to say?

She doesn't realize that she’s been staring for too long when Bakugo looks over to actually catch her staring. Ochako doesn’t know what possessed her to decide not to look the other way, but she doesn’t. Bakugo narrows his eyes as if to say The hell are you lookin’ at? and before her heart could leap out of her chest and yell at her to look away, she finally does. She lets out a heavy breath, not knowing she was holding hers the whole time.

---

The day goes by as it usually does, the only notable thing about it being the bomb disarming activity they had during hero training. Fortunately, All Might didn’t throw them into pairs again, this time grouping the class into teams of 4, her teammates being Iida, Momo, and Tokoyami. The reason for the increase of allies was due to the presence of civilians/dummies they had to evacuate while simultaneously having to disarm the bomb.

Iida stayed true to his word and beat his previous record, Ochako didn’t have much time to celebrate because she was already running to the nearest dumpster to hurl her guts out. Bakugo’s team however had the best time out of everyone, not that anyone was surprised by this, but the way he did it was what stuck with her the most.

Normally, a team’s initial strategy would be to evacuate the civilians first before dealing with the bomb itself, it’s that or the team would split up to tend to the civilians while another faction disarms the bomb. Bakugo’s strategy was to just simply allocate all manpower to disarm the bomb right off the bat and when accused of not cooperating with his team to get the other part of the job done he says, “Why would I waste my time evacuating civilians when I could just disarm the damn thing so no one would even need to be evacuated, fucking morons.”

His statement didn’t sit well with most of the class, but Ochako knew that Bakugo didn’t just do that for the sake of being selfish and arrogant, he did what he knew was the best option to take and no one could have seen it that way except for Bakugo.

Ochako’s thoughts subside and her attention returns to the sound of her footsteps bouncing off the empty halls of UA as she made her way to the room indicated on the schedule clutched in her hand, Mr. Aizawa had already made arrangements to allot an empty classroom for them to study in. She turns a corner and she spots Bakugo on his phone leaning against the doorway, already there waiting for her. The faint glow of the setting sun paints the hallway a soft shade of orange, wisps of Bakugo’s hair form shadows on the sharp features of his face. He looked at peace. Bakugo looks up at her, blood-red eyes holding her in place. Ochako could have sworn he had some kind of hidden quirk that paralyzed people dead on their tracks.

“Took you long enough.”

#kacchako #kacchako fic #kacchako fanfiction #kacchako fluff #kacchako slowburn #kacchako week 2020 #kacchako week #bakuraka #bakuraka week #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x uraraka #ao3 #ao3 kacchako #mha ochako #urakara ochako #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha

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closetkpop · 5 years

Text

Win This Fight (GOT7 Jackson Wang x Dancer You)

Angst/Fluff Word Count: 7K Was feeling inspired by how JYP has been treating GOT7 and IGOT7 recently so i wrote about it.

Not proof read & wrote this at work :) This is purely fiction, nothing is real. GIF not mine!

Dancing had always been your passion, and right now you and your friend- and long time dance partner- found yourself in Korea auditioning to become idols. Many company representatives have showed up, some of them even bringing a few well-known idols too. The audition is set up like many ones that you have been to before. First they divide by gender, and you were immediately saddened because the one person you knew you were being separated from. Then they divide off people by how they look, and you look at your group and see that you are put in a group with all the other foreigners. Then they teach a dance number that’s 4 8-counts that repeats itself. If you cannot learn the dance by the next couple of tries, then you would automatically be dismissed. If they didn’t like the way your body looked then you would be dismissed. Honestly it was the most superficial audition but everyone knew that already. Everyone there wanted to be a famous idol, including you. After nonstop dancing for almost 3 hours everyone was called back into the larger dance room. You make eye contact and see that your friend Eric who is Korean himself has already made friends with other guys around him. Nonetheless he waves and so do the other 3 guys around him. ‘They seem to like you.” This girl much taller, who spewed nothing less of elegance with deep ebony skin and a pearly white perfect smile said to you. “Hello I am Nia, what’s your name?” “Hi Nia, I’m Y/N and that guy over there is my friend, we’re auditioning together.” “That’s nice you have a friend here! This is my first time here in Korea.” “No way it’s my first time here too! But I am sad to say if I do not get a job soon, then I will have to move back home.” You said “Yeah I do not want that either, I hope to become a choreographer here, and I’ve seen you dance and its very good!” Nia complemented “Oh thank you! I hope your dreams come true here. And you are an amazing dancer too, honestly everyone here is.” You said looking around at everyone’s faces. A man blew an air horn and everyone stopped their private conversations. “Thank you everyone for your hard work, if you have been selected by the companies then your number will be called. We will go by groups first starting with they males then the females. If you are selected please remain in the building, if you are not we thank you for your time and I kindly ask you leave the building peacefully.” Group by group he started saying numbers and they were also posted on the projector screen soon after he said it. Everyone was quiet, the ones that were accepted and even the ones that got rejected.

You and Nia went for coffee; the both of you had not made the cut. Luckily Eric did, so it wasn’t all bad. He actually refused to be idol, but accepted being background dancer for JYPE. You both had to go back to your respective countries seeing as living in Korea will be impossible for foreigners such as yourselves. As you two were walking the streets you notice a group of dancers that were also in the same audition as you going to another building. “Lots of people here are recruiting for variety shows or companies. Those dancers are probably trying to get into anything that will accept them.” Nia said “That’s dedication.” You replied. “Did you want to check it out?” “Sure, we have nothing better to do, we got rejected.” You said a bit salty You walk in and surprise it is another audition. You both looked at each other and thought that you had enough rejection for one day so you were on your way out. “Dancers go that way.” A man who was blocking our exit said “We are not auditioning.” You said “Sorry, but why not? There’s no harm in trying. I know were are not a huge company or anything but you can just try.” He said almost pleading He saw the hesitation on our faces. “This is a street dance variety show. It’s more like a competition but instead of people picking you, you get to pick your mentor. Kind of like the voice but the dance version.” “What do you say?” Nia asked “Fine, lets try.” We make our way backstage and notice a difference in the sea of people. Back at the company building everyone looked pristine and proper. Here there were people of all shapes, sizes and colors. People carried themselves with pride in how they dressed representing where they came from. It was so amazingly homey and instantly put a smile on both your faces. That audition was also very similar to the earlier one you had, except this one you actually received a call back. Looks like everyone would be staying in Korea after all. You and Nia moved in to the hotel where they would be filming the show and she helped you improve your skills making your movements more fluid, and you helped her by teaching her tricks to memorize choreography faster. They kept hyping up the show on advertisements, but all contestants were in the dark. No one knew who the mentors would be or who will actually be staying. All that was known, after the filming of the first episode more that half of the people will be asked to leave. Eric had been so busy with his new job at JYP that you had not been able to see him this past week. He said he had an assignment but needed your help with the dance moves. He told you to meet at one of the dance studios JYP owns because actual artists had been occupying the ones in the JYP building. You had signed an NDA so you weren’t even allowed to say that you were a contestant on the show, so when he asked if you would be staying in Korea you switched the subject to the task at hand. The job was to choreograph a couple’s dance to “I Don’t Care” by Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber. He had the choreography pretty much done but needed a partner to help film it so he could submit it. You being the good friend and possibly the only girl that he knew decided to help him out because you know he would also support you the same way when the time called. After an hour of learning and perfecting it, he set up the camera and started to dance. We did it a couple times from different angles, so that when he goes home he could edit it. While doing a pickup routine we heard the backdoor close but we continued dancing because we needed the pickup shot. Though they glass we could see some figures and we could tell they were watching the dance we were doing and thank god they did not ruin the take by walking into the practice room. After we finished the last steps, Eric ran to stop the music and the camera, and ran to open the door. The figures walked in and they were whispering something and they all turned and looked at you. You tried to appear unfazed and took a seat by the mirrored wall and was mindlessly scrolling on your feed. Eric came back followed by the other people. “Hey Y/N, thanks so much for helping me but you need to go. Apparently this place was reserved for them at this time and I will get fired if they see you here.” Eric said and the unknown men were just staring at you behind him. “We just did this routine like 10 times can’t I catch my breath? And once you submit that video, they are going to know that I was here, so what difference does it make?” you said packing your stuff and pulling a large hoodie on top your body. “That’s fine, they won’t know when I filmed with you here, but if they find out it was during GOT7’s practice time, I will get fired.” “G-GOT7?” You looked at all of them, and some even waved at you. You couldn’t enjoy the moment too much because Eric was dragging you out. “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, “I’ll make this up I promise. Thank you Y/N, you are the best!” Day of filming- You heard nothing of the assignment or if he actually got in trouble. You honestly couldn’t even focus on it, the nerves of the show getting to you. You prepared as much as you could knowing that during this first episode it is every man for himself. You arrive at the filming location and it is a huge ware that was remodeled to look like the streets. There were platforms on two sides, and a large stage in the middle. Surrounding everything were stadium like bleachers going all the way to the very top. By the sound booth, there was a VIP seating area with couches, and you guessed that is where the mentors would be sitting when they arrived. They were only looking for 42 people total for the show, and as you looked around there were well over 100 people there. You made your way up the bleachers and sat with the large group of contestants. After some time the announcements start for filming and the night progresses. Before the actual dancing part happens they start by introducing all the mentors. One by one they walk out and play their pre-recorded video that explains who they are. You were shocked by all the big names. The first one introduced as YG and was one of the main choreographers for BLACKPINK, herself a small woman cute as a button. The second was AOMG and a representative choreographer from 1Million was the mentor. Third was a guy representing a newer company called P Nation founded by PSY. And last was one of the main choreographers for JYP. Collectively instead of going by their personal names, they went as YG, AOMG, P Nation, and JYP. Groups had already been made the day before and before they started calling the contestants down, the host said there was a surprise for us. “Currently there are only 42 spaces available and about 120 contestants right now,” the host started, “But I’d like you to introduce you to 20 other people that the mentors have chosen from their own companies that will also be competing for the 42 spots available.” Gasps and curses escaped everyone’s mouths. These 20 extra people who are already in a company are also going to be competing for a spot on the show? How is that even fair, they already have the advantage because there is no way the mentors will let people from their own company go home. So the fight was real, 120 people would be fighting for 22 spots basically. As the additional dancers walked in there was a strict divide and thick tension between everyone. You noticed a familiar face and Eric was sitting with the other JYP dancers. As soon as everyone was settled, one by one, or group by group, dancers would perform a minute routine and after everyone had performed they would be asked to stay or leave. You were in a group with Nia, another girl, and four other guys in total there were 7. You knew the risk of being in a group but it was collectively decided that we did better as a group than individually. They started with the performances and soon you were up. Surprisingly you were calm because you felt prepared and knew with the performance you were going to give, there’s no way the judges wouldn’t want you. You took your position and danced your heart out and left everything on the stage. The chemistry between dancers, the moves matched the music perfectly, not one mistake was made, and the difficulty level was high. The minute flew by and once the stage lights turn off you can actually see just how different everything looks on stage and it was beautiful. You look at the judges and they seem impressed, you look up into the crowd and see Eric staring at you in disbelief. You gaze over him and before you know it you are being pulled backstage again. You couldn’t focus on the other performances all the nerves finally hitting you. You decided if you do not make it in the competition then you’d give up dance. More commotion started as the 20 extra dancers started their sets. There was a clear difference in the way they moved. It was more precise and cleanly executed. Even Eric’s dancing had changed in a short amount of time. The nerves were up once again. If I say your group number congratulations you have impressed the mentors. If I haven’t then we thank you for your time. You look down at the patch where they wrote your number 95. You held hands with all your members and prayed so hard that he would call your number. “4, 17, 18, 30, 35…” the host started counting and there was a mixture of cheering and crying, “43, 56, 75, 80, 88, 91…” you heartbeat was out of your ribcage at this point, “95…” you all hugged and cheered out of happiness, “Lastly 97-100.” The last 4 numbers belonged to the last 20 dancers that were picked by the mentors. A lot of dancers were angry with production staff, and honestly you were too. But you didn’t say anything for the sake of the group you were in. There were more than 70 contestants left and that is when the individual judging began. But this show loves surprises and it the writers decided that instead of just the contestants suffering, the judges should too. So the new twist was the mentors do not have the chance of having equal teams. Instead there will be 2 mentors who will have an extra person. Making the 2 teams of 10, and 2 teams of 11. This put a little strain on the mentors because in the coming weeks, if no one who was chosen by them remained, then they would automatically lose the chance for the title. There was a box with 4 balls, one plain red, one with a red star, one blue, and one with a blue star. The one who picks the star one has the extra member. They went one by one starting off with P Nation who pulled out a blue solid color. Next was JYP who pulled out a red starred color. YG went next and pulled a solid red color, which left AOMG with the blue starred color. The numbers were decided and it was revealed which mentor saved which number. The first numbers called were groups that only one mentor chose- meaning no battle had to be done since it was unanimous- their spots were guaranteed in that mentors team. Starting backwards the group of boys from P Nation danced first and of course P Nation and AOMG wanted them. Since it is up to the group where to go, of course the picked their own company. This happened to every company, and the five they chose remained within their respective companies. Your group went and it was revealed that JYP and AOMG wanted you to join their team. You looked over to the team and Eric look excited because he could have the chance to be on the same team as you. The mentors were bickering with each other and wooing us to join their team. We talked it over and went with AOMG. People were shocked. You were too, but you were already rejected by JYP once and you weren’t going to let that happen again. Once all the teams were separated. Everyone had an abundance of contestants and needed to remove some members to fit the team limits. AOMG managed to rack up 15 people and needed to cut 4. You were sure those cuts will probably becoming for your team, because as you’ve witnessed before usually the girls are the weaker dancers. You held Nia’s hand and made direct eye contact with the mentor. He pulled out 2 of his dancers, 1 b-boy from guy from another group, and 1 guy from your group. That left the 3 girls from your group, 3 guys from your group, 2 guys and one girl from his original group, and 2 b-boys- 4 girls and 7 guys. Your emotions have been all over the place all day and when your spot was guaranteed you couldn’t help but cry. All the hard work you’ve put in before finally paid off and you are getting the dancing debut you have been waiting for. After some time, formalities and introductions were passed and each group needed to return to the stage to receive the weekly mission go over the rules. The host stated every week the dancers with the lowest scores/votes would have to battle and the loser would leave. When you returned to the stage you saw that Eric was not eliminated either. When you made eye contact with him, he shot a smile and you gave one back. Nothing was ever wrong with a little friendly competition.

It was the semi-finals of the competition, and it was down to JYP (7 male dancers), AOMG (3 female 2 male), P Nation (3 male). YG was unsuccessful to keep all of her dancers so she was eliminated from the winning title but remained as a guest and mentor for the red team. At this point the show was just referencing to the groups as the red and blue team. Eric made it to the top as well as you. Since ratings and views were starting to decrease the producers asked each entertainment company to send an idol for the semis so that their fans would watch. This week was also the week that you had to do a sexy theme. That was the one type of dance that you were never comfortable with only because you are a hiphop dancer, so your moves always came out harder than most girls. Luckily the only 3 girls left in the competition was on your team and they immensely helped you look somewhat successful. Also part of the twist was the opposing team got to choose the song, so they chose “Dally” by Hyolyn, and Drunk on You by Jus2. A remix was made and you felt like you were the weakest link. Everyone else seemed so confident and you faked it and it showed. When the show started as always the contestants and mentors took their places and welcomed the invited guests. P Nation managed to get s Jessi, HyunA, and E'Dawn. AOMG managed to get Loco, Gray, and Simon D. JYP managed to get all of GOT7 to come for the filming of the show. The amount of big names and stars that were in one room was incredible. And you were feeling the nerves because if you were to be eliminated it should not be this night.

When they cut to commercials, proper introductions were made between teams and celebrities. All the celebs on the blue team were open and really fun to talk to. Even the star struck red team came on our platform and introduced themselves. When the blue team went to introduce themselves to GOT7 there was a wall. Bodyguards surrounded GOT7, and the blue team was instructed that no contact was to be made to the artists, even if they spoke to you. A distance had to be maintained and there was absolutely no touching allowed. If the rules were violated then you would be disqualified. The boys looked annoyed that JYP put a ban on even a hi-touch and couldn’t have a proper conversation with any one other than the red team. The blue team just bowed and were returning to the blue platform when Jackson spoke up, “Hey! You were in the dance studio the last time right?” You did not want to risk being eliminated so you just nodded and walked away. He looked hurt but Jackson already has his life settled, and there is no way you are going to let a guy ruin your career. “Good luck! Fighting!” he yelled as you stepped back onto your side. You half bowed but then Eric engulfed you in a hug and you could swear Jackson almost jumped towards you, but he restrained himself. “You know I have enjoyed this competition so far, and you’ve definitely grown as a dancer. I can’t wait to see you do a sexy theme.” Eric teased “I have also enjoyed your company but I think there’s only enough space for one of us, and we both know that’s me.” You said arrogantly throwing his arms off of you. “Here I am to make peace, and you do this?” He feigned offended “Nonsense consider it a warning.” You joked He pulled you aside and his face dropped serious, “You better not leave tonight. I know this isn’t your element.” He said hugging you “I won’t, I’ve practiced way too hard I-“ “Places people! Going live in 30 seconds!” “Good luck and remember, you are so sexy, don’t think too much about it, why do you think I only want you to be my dance partner never anyone else. You’re the best there is Y/N don’t forget it.” He said giving one last hug before going back to his own platform. You know that he was not romantically attracted to you but that small statement made you blush nonetheless. Jackson joins Eric and you mouth a thank you before heading back to your position. “What was that all about?” Jackson asked Eric, green monster showing “Just giving her a pep-talk. She doesn’t believe she’s a sexy dancer so tonight is out of her element. But the more she tries to fake sexiness the more awkward it comes out. She just needed a reminder to be herself and her natural sexiness will just flow out.” “Do you like her?” Jackson asked before he could even control his mouth “Not like that. But she is my best friend, and I want to see her succeed too.” The announcer flipped a coin and the blue team was first to perform. The words Eric said kept replaying in your head so many times you missed the first beats of “Dally”. You caught yourself up in time and felt your body stiffen. You see Nia and she’s effortlessly dancing, and then look over to the other girl and her long hair is also flowing. You look at Eric and he’s telling you to relax. Soon Jackson comes into sight as well and he is also taking deep breaths with Eric. It was quite comedic but actually managed to calm you down. It was your turn to dance in the middle and the chorus and highlight of the dance was approaching. You centered yourself and then let the music take over as it usually does and you found yourself gliding with the music and sending the camera a wink here and there. Soon it was over and when the lights came on the red teams mouths were hanging open and some were fanning the blush off their faces, even GOT7. You returned back to the platform and it was the red team, their challenge was to be smooth, like MJ and the song that was chosen was “K-Town” by Jay Park, and Hit-Boy. Their performance was not as long but it definitely was clean. The bottom two dancers of the night were chosen and it was you and the other girl from your group. You two had a dance battle to Cardi B “Bodak Yellow” and the fans decided who won. You, your teammate, and the host stood on the large stage, and all eyes and camera were on you. To say you have never felt more insecure in your life would be an understatement. The host stood between you two. “And the one that will be returning next week… for the season finale… a chance to perform at MAMA with their mentors and colleagues… and 10 million won is… Y/N!” Your teammate hugged and congratulated you and danced her way off stage. You thanked the host and the crowd and returned to your spot on the platform before letting out your tears of relief. Nia came to comfort you, and you honestly thought you were hallucinating when you saw Eric and other red team members come onto the blue side to hug you. The finals were not going to be easy. Even though you were on rival teams you all had grown into a family and it is always hard to see someone leave. We thought this was the end of the episode, but the producers love putting a twist into everything. This new one especially sucked. In order to get to the finals, each contestant would have to battle against an opponent and it was up to the crowd to decide who would win. JYP was already in the danger zone because they were the only ones left in the red team. It was between P Nation and AOMG to fight. To decide who was going against them, a drawing was made with balls similar to the beginning. The one that had a star was safe and the one that did not had to battle. P Nation went to pick first and it was revealed that they would have to battle JYP in the beginning of the next episode.

Finals No expense was spared for the last episode. Thanks to the last episode many more celebrities join in the live viewing of the final episode. Some celebs included, PSY, Jay Park, Yang Hyun-Suk, and J.Y. Park. Other group and artists decided to join as well such as, Got7, Itzy, iKon, Jessi, Loco, Gray, and Simon D. There was an opening number with both red and blue teams, along with the mentors. After the opening number it was time for the battle. JYP went first doing their performance with the 7 males, and P Nation performed after with the 3 males. As they were standing on the stage the tension was thick. If JYP won then they would have the chance to battle again, if P Nation won, then that would be it and the competition would be over because no one from the red team would be available to compete. Once again the live voting was being tallied on the large screen on top. Everybody watched as the numbers changed. After what felt like forever they started to slow down and once everything stopped it was revealed that JYP had won. Your heart broke seeing your teammates have to walk off the stage and now it was up to you 5 to bring home the title for the blue team. It was up to this one last dance that will decide the your fate. Since this was the final performance it was longer than the others too. After a coin toss JYP was the first to dance. Since everyone was already backstage you took a few moments to wish Eric good luck and he did the same to you. You decided to rehearse one more time and stretch before the performance. They gave the 2 minute warning and everyone was lined up behind the panels. Slowly you heard the music start and the panels opened. You saw the bright spotlight and the same thing was running through your head. If you win this you’ll get the prize money, you’ll get to be a part of AOMG, you’ll get to join the tour following the competition, but most importantly get to stay in Korea. As you were dancing you were appreciative of everything around you. You looked at your mentor who looked so proud and was cheering like crazy. You looked into the crowd and fed off the energy they were giving. You looked at all the celebs around you and appreciated that they took time out of their schedules to support the show. And lastly, you looked at you teammates who you didn’t choose but couldn’t imagine this competition any other way. When the final note struck you knew it was over, and all was left in the hands of the voters. Voting was open until the end of the show where they would announce the winner. Until then, the groups and artists performed a couple of songs. Most of the artists didn’t have backup dancers so they just asked the contestants to have fun on stage. None of us minded and we were actually having a lot of fun during the performances. GOT7 were the last to perform and it was instructed once again our team could not engage with their artists. So when they were performing, you could see the awkwardness and hurt in their eyes when the blue team remained seated even when they would personally ask for us dance with them. They handled the rejection professionally but it made our team look bad and that could affect our votes. After all when Jessi or Gray were performing both the red and blue teams were supportive. It felt wrong to have this restriction. You gave them the benefit of the doubt and it seemed GOT7 did not even know a restriction was set in place. Jackson said something to the red team and next thing you know, they are trying to drag the blue team on stage. Eric was the one to come up to you and you told him what JYP management said about the blue team not being able engage with their artists. His face practically fell and all you could do is shrug it off. They returned back empty handed and Eric whispered something to Jackson. You assumed it was what you told him. GOT7 finished off the performance and then returned to their seats. The two teams were once again called on the main stage. The host went over again what the winners would receive along with the title of Koreas best dancers. The lights dimmed down and a spotlight was on the host. “And the winner is…”

The studio had turned the warehouse into a club, and practically anyone and everyone involved with the show was there. Since it was an invitation only party, there were not many paparazzi, so the idols and celebs indulged and relaxed a bit. There was a huge dance floor and Nia and Eric seemed to be getting comfortable. You were swaying to the music when someone taps on your shoulder. When you turn around you see it is Jackson. “Hi.” He said showing his squirtle-like smile Your smile was wiped off your face and you instantly turned around and started walking back to your table. “Hey don’t be like that. Please let me explain!” “Under JYP’s new rule I am not allowed to associate myself with any of JYP artists even if they instigate.” You repeated the same monotone voice “Cut it out, please I didn’t make that stupid rule.” “Jackson please leave me alone before you get me in trouble again. You will not receive any repercussions I will. ” You begged He saw the hurt on your face and reluctantly left you alone. That put a sour mood on your night and you slowly made your way to the exit of the club. You reached the hotel lobby and was waiting for the elevator to reach the ground floor. Once it reached everyone rushed into the elevator. As the door was closing you saw someone sneak into the lift in the last moment, making the already packed elevator tighter. You got off on your floor and was walking to your room, when you opened it a stranger also ran in a shut the door behind you. He covered your mouth so you couldn’t scream. He quickly took off his mask and revealed Jackson’s face. “Don’t scream, we need to talk about what happened during the finals. I am going to remove my hand now.” He said cautiously and you nodded “My life will be ruined if anyone sees you here.” He took a step towards you, and you backed up in reflex. “Why are you afraid of me? I am not going to hurt you.” He said taking his step back “I am not afraid of you Jackson. It’s your guards and your company I am afraid of.” “No one knows I am here. I made sure no one followed me,” He said softly trying to soothe your worries. “Yeah, I’m sure no one is going to notice you’re missing downstairs,” You say sarcastically. He smiled that you actually spoke to him. He would rather have you angry and talking to him rather than sidestepping and silence. “You really are a great dancer. I thought I should let you know. I really hope to work with you one day.” Here is Jackson one of the best dancers in Korea saying he really wanted to work with you- a nobody. You slightly let your guard down, and spoke softly. “Too bad we can’t.” You let your head sink remembering those cruel words said. “You can if you join JYP.” He said softly lifting your chin, “We would not have to tiptoe around each other so much.” You looked at Jackson in the eye, did he really not know? “Jackson what do you think actually happened at the finals? What did JYP tell you?” “We don’t know why he put the restriction, but I think its because you are a part of AOMG. When the tour with them is over then you can join us at JYP.” “That’s all he said?” “Yes I swear! Is there more?” he said holding your hand “Yeah he just left out a small detail.” you said cautiously “Which is?”

“And the winner is AOMG!” Blue confetti started bursting out of the cannons, P Nation dancers joined you and the rest of the blue team in a group hug. A trophy was handed to Jay Park who then awarded it to the mentor. All the hard work had paid off, and things were finally looking upwards for you. The mentor came into a group huddle and handed raised the trophy. All of us were screaming and hugging in triumph. The host started saying the closing remarks and soon cameras stopped recording. This entire journey had been an emotional and physical rollercoaster. The red team made their way onto the stage and started to congratulate the blue side. Eric was the first to come up and hug you, clumsily bumping into Nia. Instantly they had heart eyes for each other. You went to go to the red teams members and shake their hands too. When you got to JYP’s staff they shook your hand as asked for a moment to talk. They went to the edge of the stage where no one was standing, “Congratulations on winning.” He said untruthfully “I hope you are aware of your restrictions concerning our artists.” “Yes but can I ask why you have been so strict with it concerning only me?” ��It seems one of my artists have taken a liking to you and quite honestly you do not fit the look of a JYP artist.” You have been rejected for looks as a dancer many times which was a common thing in the industry. Its understandable if you don’t fit a role, but to be rejected for any kind of contact based on looks, that was new. “You are not our type, so we simply do not want you and him to be associated, hell we don’t even want you touching them. There is no value for us in your association with him, but if people found out you were associated with Jackson then that will boost your reputation. We are just taking precautions, if you get into a scandal then the press would read ‘GOT7’s Jackson friend Y/N…’ you get the idea.” You were livid, “I don’t need Jackson or JYP to make it big. Why don’t you keep a better eye on your artists and keep him away from me if you are so threatened.” “We cannot do anything that will hurt their image.” “And you honestly believe by putting these stupid restrictions you are what, saving their image?” You said walking away. Eric caught your irritated expression and instantly shielded you from anyone’s way. You quietly told him what happened and you made him swear not to tell anyone. You also noticed guards starting to follow behind all JYP artists. GOT7 was making their way to the blue teams celebrations (guards behind and all). They made a line and started bowing and shaking some of the higher ups hands. You were at the end of the line and put on the most sincere smile as possible and bowed with your hands behind your back. Jackson pulled you in for a side hug to take a picture with the winning team, but one guard pulled Jackson away and another one shoved you onto the ground. You looked up in shock that they would go to such extremes. Jackson pried the guard off him and offered his hand to help you up. You crawled back looking at the looming guard behind him. “Sorry here let me help you up.” Jackson said “For a dancer, she has two left feet.” The guard joked, “She tripped.” You backed up and got up on your own fighting off the tears. You ran to the middle of the crowd before you let the tears fall. When people asked you lied saying it was happy tears.

“THEY CAN NOT DO THAT!” Jackson was yelling in your hotel room, “How dare they say that about you, about anyone!” “Jackson it’s fine-“ you try to calm him and sat next to him on the bed “IT’S NOT FINE! Here I am trying to be the best person I can be and look how my company is treating you!” he said hugging you, “You don’t deserve that.” To say being hugged by Jackson felt amazing was an understatement. “Jackson it’s just me, I’ll be okay. It was just a blessing to be able to see you, let alone share a stage with you.” “Just you? What is that supposed to mean? Do you not understand what you mean to me? When you dance you have me captivated. There’s so much passion and love in your movements it is hypnotizing. You made me remember the reason why I joined this lifestyle.” He said releasing the hug, “ And they want to take away my new found light from me?” “I’m sorry as much as I’d like to, I can’t. Honestly it’s too much drama and right now I need to focus on building a career so I can stay in Korea.” You said placing your hand on his, “And I need to do it with out you.” “I believe in you, there is so much potential in you. I just wanted to be there for you every step of the way.” “I appreciate it, I really do.” You sighed, getting up to the door, “But I need to do this alone. You have enough things to do already and I don’t want you worrying about me.” Jackson stood behind you and brought your hands up to his lips. “I’m sorry. For what you are going through.” “You don’t need to apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong.” You reassured “Still I’m sorry, maybe we will run into each other again down the road. And when we do let’s not be like strangers.” You nodded and smiled. He embraced you for one more hug and planted a long kiss on your forehead. He looked and down at you and made a swift look to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “You mean so much to me. I don’t want to leave you like this.” He said cupping your cheeks. “I don’t want you to think for any moment that you are not valuable. You are so incredibly talented and your have the hunger and passion to go anywhere in the world. Don’t listen to them; they want to tear you down. You’re better than them you surpass them. And you’re going kill this industry, I know it.” “Thank you Jackson, for everything.” The way he was talking was making you weak so your voice was not over a whisper. “Make it big so that one day I could do this in front of everyone.” “Do what?-“ Jackson took the words from your mouth and kissed you. It was a hesitant, soft kiss but you didn’t pull away so he deepened it pulling you closer to him. He pulled away holding you like you were made of glass and hugged you one more time before walking out of your room. When you went to bed you still felt the tingling sensation on your lips and couldn’t help but smile. You had a new objective and that was to be the best.

A/N I left it open for a part 2 if people like it. I know I focused more on the dance side of it and it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you made it this far and want a part 2 lmk. Thank you! <3

#got7 #igot7 #jyp #jackson wang #got7 jackson #got7 scenarios #got7 oneshot #got7 au #got7 angst #got7 drama #got7 fanfic #got7 fluff #got7 imagines #got7 kpop #got7 reactions #got7 romance #got7 x reader #got7 x you

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morphituu · 5 years

Text

Milagro

Chapter 13: “Her Shield”

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

The disbelief in Makhel’s eyes matched Daryl’s, but all too quickly did stunning triumph stir a smile across Ward’s mouth, his hold securing tighter around the wand despite the discomfort of his burned skin rubbing the wooden handle, but now they were at a standstill, staring one another down.

Ward was never taught any war spells, only how to call the wand.

“Tikka,” he hissed, nudging her, his eyes still on the bewildered Orc, but she remained slumped over Fero’s remains, whimpering softly to herself. “Tikka!” he hissed again, pushing her, but she still wouldn’t budge.

Daryl dared to pull his eyes away, tugging from under Tikka’s arms but she fought against him, unintelligible wails springing from her. “Get up and use that fucking wand!” he seethed, looking back to Makhel, but instead found him bolting across the road towards Rania.

Ward cursed under his breath, stumbling around Tikka to pursue him.

Makhel hesitated greatly when reaching for the brittle, makeshift wand still clutched in her cold palm. Rigimortous had already set in across her icy skin, and when he yanked upwards and her body followed, her cheek fell against his foot that he flinched back from, a startled yelp hatching in his throat.

There was nothing left of life in Rania, but her eyes seemed to follow him as he staggered back, whispering jumbled apologies. The wand- if it could even be called that- was looked over swiftly, but the further he rolled it in his touch, the more the delicate grain fragmented, quickly breaking apart into a dusty pile between his feet.

Another panicked moment coupled by an equally frantic glance in Ward’s direction prompted Makhel to bolt, but his legs felt heavy, as if weights were strapped around his ankles. He fought past the affliction and the tightness in his chest, heading for the closest store he could escape through.

Nick used his elbow to push aside the door that was blocked with fallen shelves and stools from the bar it sat behind, carefully squeezing in sideway with Callie in his arms.

“A’right, here we go,” he intoned, sitting her in one of the stools still standing.

“I’m okay,” she again insisted despite her hand not leaving her stomach since she’d come back into consciousness. “We need to get out of here,”

“We will,” he called from behind the counter, searching through the fallen objects and disorganized shelves for anything to halt the trickle of blood that had started back up with her heart. “I need to find Ward first,”

She was trying her best to look through the dirty and cracked windows of the diner when she accidentally picked off a fresh scab from the slice across her cheek, inhaling sharply when it stung. Blood smeared her fingertips, stirring a vexed exhale.

Nick came back around with wash cloths and a water pitcher still filled with ice, first unknotting the shirt he’d originally used to dampen the open wound and then ripping her jeans to better inspect.

Callie looked away, a hand over her mouth as he doused the slice across her thigh with the chilled water. It stung, but nothing matched up to the wrath of her now non-existent labor just a short time ago. Although it was stalled, recalling the intensity of the contractions left a very vivid impression across her, and she couldn’t help but question if she’d make it when the appropriate time came to give birth.

Looking up at Nick’s face was far better distraction from all of that than the ruined wall behind the bar that had little to keep her attention, but upon observing the way the light from outside reflected off his cheeks, it occurred to her that he’d not only been crying, but sobbing. He nearly startled when she reached for him suddenly, wiping the heel of her palm across his damp cheek after pulling a sleeve down over it.

He looked flustered by the manner in which he rubbed his cheek against his shoulder to rid of the remaining tear trails, but she pulled him in to bump foreheads, reassuring him in soft whispers to not feel ashamed for crying.

To explain the dread he’d felt while watching the life bleed from her was impossible, so taking the moment to pull her in for a tight embrace and inhale the life that was returned to her brought him away from those bleak thoughts that only highlighted the worst possible outcomes if Rania hadn’t come along.

Neither wanted to pull from that hold, but he scrunched his nose against her neck when the smell of blood wafted under his nose, prompting him to pull away and return to the task at hand after kissing her cheek, then her palm when she slid them gently down his face. Again she looked away instead of witnessing him mop up the steady trickle of blood.

“This isn’t gonna work,” he growled, trying to fashion the cloths together, but they barely did their job of soaking up anything.

She dared a glance before her eyes landed on his own wounds across his arm. “Baby your arm,” she reached, moving his sleeve up, but he only pushed her hands away.

“Sit still- your cheek,” he exasperated, turning her jaw and using the back of his hand to wipe away the stray droplet after spotting it. “I gotta find a first-aid kit,”

“And then we can leave?” she asked, only getting a few dabs in over the slice of his arm before he tossed the useless rags away.

“Stay here,” he motioned to move, but she grabbed him. “I’ll be right back,” he held her face when he promised that, giving her a few hard kisses that she clung to. “Don’t try to walk,”

It was with reluctance that she let go, watching him move haphazardly over the fallen chairs and tables, the floor littered with food and broken dishes before vanishing into the back through the double doors.

She sat back in the stool uneasily, cautiously letting her eyes roam over the diner and linger even longer out the clouded windows, wondering where the battle had suddenly gone. Leo fluttered under her palm reassuringly, and she looked down, her lips pulling into a weak smile. More than anything she wished to cradle him and admire the twice lived miracle somersaulting in her stomach, but knowing he was where he was supposed to be was the greater reassurance.

So far he’d only found boxes of preserved foods and monstrous cans lining metal shelves as he squeezed his way around the narrow back room, and upon only finding rolls of paper towels thus far, he realized he might just have to settle with what they had. His first plan of action after finding a way out of the town- with or without Tikka- was getting Callie to a hospital. He’d done a decent job at keeping his concerns to himself after they’d literally passed in his arms, but he was certain that there would be no easy resting until he heard it from a doctors mouth that both of them were stable.

He took a cautionary breath, fighting the burn in his eyes.

After this, the only excitement Nick looked forward to was Leo’s arrival- the planned and scheduled arrival that he had plenty of time to prepare for.

He was about to throw in the towel when a flash of red caught his eye, and skipped sideways to find a first-aid kit tacked to the wall and collecting dust. A quick look over it’s contents insured it would do a far better job than the rags he’d found-

The shattering then clattering of glass across the ground in the lobby alerted Nick, followed by a desperate cry from Callie before it abruptly halted.

The fear rushed back into his body as he crashed through the double doors, skidding to a halt to find Ward stood before Callie protectively with a wand in hand and pointed across the room towards Makhel who had blood running freely down his face from the significant slice across the top of his head.

It took only a matter of seconds to put it all together, but now they were at a stand still.

Callie looked at Nick, panic brimming her wide eyes, but Ward had his arm curled back across her ensuring there was no chance of her being hit.

Makhel was heaving, glancing between the men, and even across the diner Nick could see his body trembling. He looked sickly, but the craze in his eyes unsettled him greatly.

He wanted to shout at Ward to just fire already; he couldn’t understand why he was just standing there, until it all made sense.

Ward hadn’t been taught any attacks.

Sure he could wield it, but what else?

Nick wanted to scoop Callie up and bolt, even if it meant leaving the psychopath that had pursued them alive, but leaving someone even as able bodied as Ward to an Orc was only allowing a one-sided fight. Makhel was young, but Orcs were born with strength, so adding what he assumed was desperation and crazed fear to the equation meant he’d fight viciously, something Nick knew was gruesome and had bared witness to.

A long breath exhaled, and Nick’s fists clenched at his sides. He knew now what needed to be done.

“Ward get Callie out of here,” Nick grumbled lowly, moving before both of them.

“What?” Callie tried to move past Ward’s shoulder, but he was still holding her back.

“Daryl go.” Nick barked, his chest puffed with his chin down, face slowly pulling onto a hard snarl. Makhel zeroed in on Nick, immediately recognizing the fight he proposed. The younger Orc followed suit, his lips pulling back over his bleeding gums to show his sharp teeth.

“Nick-” Callie reached for him, but she was restricted by Daryl, her finger tips barely grazing his back before she was pulled away. “NICK NO!” she cried, fighting against his hold, reaching frantically for her lover.

It took great restraint to not turn to her, but Nick kept his eyes locked with Makhel’s, the two breathing heavily and standing their tallest.

“NICK DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” Callie sobbed, thrashing every step of the way. Ward found it surprisingly difficult to hold her as he made his way through the back door, resorting to hoisting her up against his chest to yank her grip from the frame as she continued to scream.

Nick caught the flicker of Makhel’s eyes following Callie and Ward, so he moved to block them, chuffing loudly.

Makhel shifted unnaturally, his step appearing untrustworthy. “You bred a human whore,”

A resounding growl burst from Nick, his body trembling from the ferocity in which he emitted the long snarls, the adrenaline collecting in his skull. His chest heaved with deep breaths, examining the stench of sickness coming off of the dwindling Orc before him, but there was also the flare of raw challenge coming off of him much in the same manner it was radiating from Nick.

When Makhel again shifted, Nick did so the opposite direction, starting a slow circle around one another, sizing each other up as they both continued to display their strength, and ferociousness.

“I’ss because of ones like you that we can never be above them,” Makhel went on weakly, but his smile was all mighty. “Your own child’s a mistake- taking the place a pure Orc should,”

Nick was ready to throw himself at him and slug until he was a pile of meat, but he fought the vigor in his legs knowing there would be a better chance.

He narrowed his eyes, uttering, “Rania was a halfling,”

Makhel stiffened, an angered chuff firing at Nick.

“Did you hate her?”

“Shut up,” Makhel barked.

“Did you blame her for being who she was?”

“She was perfect and they ruined her!” he hollered, spitting bloody saliva.

“You killed her!” Nick boomed, and just as Makhel had pushed off his toes, Nick was also barreling towards him, their bodies meeting in a loud clash as hands flung to gouge and jaws opened to rip.

They were a blur of clashing muscle and thundering roars, one sometimes getting in a solid hit and then the other firing back with a gut-wrenching tackle, throwing them about the already broken room that crumbled beneath their dueling bodies. Makhel resorted more to clamping down with his teeth, always aiming for Nick’s throat or inner arms, but a neck snapping swing would always daze him a moment or two, yet not long enough to stop the frenzied rage that was keeping Makhel standing and holding his own.

“Callie stop!” Ward was still struggling, his cheek ringing where she’d already squeezed in a few hits with her elbow.

“Let me go!” she demanded, fighting against his strong hold all the while watching Nick and Makhel brawl, their monstrous roars and strikes just as clear outside as it was inside. She could see Nick thrown across the ground, rushing to stand and only having Makhel land on him.

“Get OFF!” she screamed, trying to twist out of his hold.

“If you go in there you’ll get caught in the middle- damnit, Callie!”

In a moment of delirium, Makhel had gotten his hands around Nick’s neck, sitting on his chest so kicking him away wasn’t doable, and now Nick pulled at his hands desperately, his eyes welling with tears and panic flooding the longer his thumbs pressed into his throat.

“You’re the kind of person who allows the world to go on raping and defiling! I was doing the world a favor and you got involved!” Makhel bawled, his arms shaking from the force he held Nick down, but in a final burst of capability, Nick’s hand finally gripped something sturdy while brushing the ground desperately- a beer mug that he swung the bottom of into Makhel’s temple.

He fell to his side, holding his hand over the gash now gushing after the mug shattered against his skin while Nick struggled to his feet, coughing hoarsely and choking on the air he tried to suck back into his lungs.

His bloodshot eyes found Makhel getting to his feet just as he was, disregarding the blood in his mouth and the bites and cuts across his body that burned.

While he was still steadying, Nick lunged at him, resuming the thunderous shouts and tears as before when Makhel turned to fight back, his snapping jaws coming painfully close to Nick’s face before he blew his forearm into his chin to send him flying into a table, only to break under his body. Nick had already grabbed a chair when the younger Orc turned to scamper to his feet, hollering when the seat slammed into his back and broke into pieces.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Nick spat, using Makhel’s own defense against him when he again charged. Although his tusks were filed, Nick’s bite was still as deadly, his teeth sinking into Makhel’s forearm when he attempted to push the cop back through the windows. Sour blood pooling in his mouth prompted him to release, completely numb to Makhel’s scream or yanking against Nick’s jaws.

Nick spit, his face twisting when the blood coated his tongue and throat, staining his teeth when they bared before a loud snarl.

Despite shaking his wounded arm and the clear discomfort across his face, Makhel came at him again.

“Get the fuck- OFF!” Callie shrieked, digging her nails into Ward’s arm even more after he’d hissed in pain the first few times.

At this point, Daryl was losing his already barely bridled patience, and was close to letting her go so she’d fall and he could just drag her away, but even then he was sure she’d find a way to weasel from his hold.

“He needs our help!” she argued, but it didn’t lessen his hold around her.

“If we get between that we-” but the wind was knocked from him, pain radiating into his stomach immediately after she’d slugged him in the groin with all the momentum she had. Ward tried to hang onto her jacket as he buckled, but he was having a harder time breathing as he fell to his side, cursing at her as she bolted back to the diner as louder roars start emerging from inside.

She crawled through the floor to ceiling high windows this time instead of bothering with the back door, solutions rushing her when she witnessed Nick in a chokehold and thrashing wildly against Makhel, both of them riddled with debris, and blood, and bruises.

Callie’s eyes jumped until they landed on a partially destroyed stool, hoisting it over her shoulder and swinging with all her might into Makhel’s side.

He arched, screaming, letting go of Nick but swiftly turning on her with a booming cry.

She had only a half-second to turn and run, but he already had his hands on her, tossing her aside like garbage.

To Nick, it happened slowly, but he knew he hadn’t turned fast enough to stop it before Callie rolled and crashed across the tables and chairs, finally stopping when her body slammed up against a booth. A constricted cry caught in her throat, her arms shaking and body lighting up with pain when she tried to sit up.

Just as she’d turned to Makhel’s reaching hands and twisting face, Nick tackled him and sent them back into the destroyed rubble around them.

His raging heart was pulsing behind his eyes and in his ears, his vision bleeding over with red as he dealt blow after blow into Makhel’s already swollen face. All the soreness and weak across Nick’s body wasn’t even detected; only unchecked fury pumping into his limbs, gathering in his chest then billowing out through heaving breaths.

It wasn’t until Nick felt a few of his own knuckles pop that he stopped, breathing gravelly above Makhel who was sputtering for air.

A tusk was broken off and stuck in Nick’s knuckle, but he didn’t notice, not while looking down at his concave face and blood pooling under his head, an eye sunk deep into its socket.

“Y-you know I’m right-” Makhel spat, holding his deformed head. “I’ll do it- I’ll kill-”

But in a final fit of rage, Nick’s powerful jaws closed around his neck, thrashing his head viciously until the flesh and muscle gave way, ripping open his throat.

Makhel’s body convulsed, strangled cries that couldn’t reach past the blood in his throat filling the quiet room as he slowly drowned, clawing desperately at his own throat. Nick watched the life drain from his eyes and fear crawl it’s way in, consuming his last thoughts until the last of his spasms had stopped, and the crimson spurting from his throat slowed.

Nick spat the last of the sour blood onto his face, a hard chuff following.

It was necessary, but upon spotting the butter knife beside him, Nick hastily grabbed it and plunged the blunt blade into Makhel’s chest, watching carefully for any reaction, but there was nothing left of the rogue Bright.

“Agh thaav'uk killaumn mausan fuckaumn hundur.” He slurred, finally finding his way back up to his feet to stagger away from the boy he’d just murdered. His breaths were heavying as well as his limbs, and the agony that had before been numbed was soaking into his muscles and bones, building a steady tremble up his battered body.

“Nick?”

He looked to Callie, now realizing she’d witnessed him annihilating Makhel, and it showed in her peeled eyes, but she remained unmoving, still sitting before the booth her body had struck.

He chuffed blood from his nose and mouth, stumbling when he turned to face her. “Are you okay-” but he collapsed, his body falling harshly across a turned chair and breaking under him.

“Nick!” she exclaimed, crawling to him as he dragged his body across the floor to her, groaning when his head fell against her stomach, the rest of his exhausted form following. He lay sprawled across the tiles, his head cradled in Callie’s touch as she cried over him, wiping away the blood across his mouth and chin, simply thankful that she’d lived through all of it- that both her and Leo had. He turned his cheek against her stomach when Leo stirred, exhaling shakily.

It was a short lived moment of tenderness between the two before Ward finally made his way back in, wand raised in mock protection before he spotted the couple twisted in one another beside a mutilated Makhel.

“Holy…” he trailed off, carefully walking around the corpse, a hand hovering over his tender lower abdomen. “You good? You okay?” he asked the pair, both of them nodding tiredly.

Nick’s bruising eye cracked open when Ward slumped beside them, letting the wand roll out of his palm.

Callie leaned back against the booth, Nick still held partially against her lap and stomach, letting her eyes close a moment as the quiet around them seeped in, the exhaustion finally rooting into her bones after days of constant anxiousness. It occurred to her that unwinding beside a corpse shouldn’t have been so easy, but she also couldn’t believe how drained she felt.

Ward kept looking at the body before them, then back at Nick, wondering just what kind of fight ensued while he was wrestling to keep Callie away.

He hit Nick’s arm, pointing, “Where’s all that pissed off when we’re working?”

Nick scoffed, wincing when his ribs protested.

The three melted back into their exhaustion, staring here and there, hunger even starting to awaken in their void guts.

“I wanna go home.” Callie mumbled, the men nodding in agreement.

It took a few tries to get Nick standing on his feet, and even when he didn’t tip over like a redwood the third time, Callie still had trouble keeping him upright enough to walk, but neither wanted to be anywhere near the wand that Ward was carrying again. The first-aid kit was collected before they found their way out of the store, but none of them knew how much it could help their various stages and degrees of injuries.

They collectively halted when Tikka was spotted across the road, still slumped over Fero, but this had been the first time Nick or Callie had seen him, both completely oblivious that they could have sustained their own injuries from the fight, and apparently Fero had been dealt the worst blow.

Ward kept them back with an upturned palm, calmly walking up to her.

Some kind of spell had been cast to bring Fero’s torn face back together, but there was still evidence of it; the way his skin puckered and scarred, his left eye still drooping a little. It honestly set Daryl off a little bit; they’d been in the thick of the fight, Nick risking his own life to give them a head start and she’d been here putting Fero back together instead of helping.

After everything she’d asked of them, she didn’t even see the fights end.

He pushed that down; he really just wanted to leave.

“Tikka,” he called, but she didn’t even move. “Tikka it’s time to go,”

Her head shook, still hung.

“We can’t stay here,” he pressed more urgently, yet her hands did not leave his that she’d clasped over his stomach.

Her head shook, slowly, her shoulders trembling. “I… I can’t,” she choked. “I have to… I can’t leave him here,”

“Tikka,” he stepped closer, chilled in the shadow of the building. “He’s gone, you have to leave,”

“No!” she screamed, and the same sharp snap of flames that had appeared in Makhel’s hand when Rania had disarmed him flickered in Ward’s, his wand springing towards Tikka for her to catch. Though her eyes were swollen and glossy with unshed tears, she still glared hatefully up at him for even suggesting she leave his side.

Daryl held his singed hand, scoffing.

“That’s it? After all the shit you pulled and the fight we finished you expect us to just walk our asses outta here!?” Daryl shouted, but there was nothing else she offered after that initial look before turning back to Fero, scooting on her knees closer to him with both wands in her possession now.

“Get up!” he demanded, but she was unmoving. He huffed, tempted to shake her, but instead turned heel to trudge past Nick and Callie who were also in a state of disbelief, but clearly there was nothing left to do.

“Tikka,” Nick called, and she surprisingly looked to him with tired eyes. “Stay gone this time.” He instructed, pulling Callie under his arm to turn and follow Daryl down the desolate street, unbothered to leave any final glances in her direction this time.

If she was leaving them with nothing, they’d do the same. Nick expected a spell to meet his back or swallow them all up from the ground with their backs turned to her, but silence was the only thing that filled the space between them with every step forward.

Quickly they caught up with Daryl, the three deciding that hot-wiring a car would be their best and quickest bet out of God knew where they were, but it was slim pickings, mostly old sedans with steering wheel locks or a few others that had clearly been parked longer than they could run. A few scooters and bikes here and there, but they all perked up when Callie spotted an old Ford sitting in the shade of an alley, with thankfully, no steering lock.

Callie kept careful watch over the still barren streets as they secured their ride, Ward tearing the steering column out and Nick pulling the various boxes of junk from the bed until the truck was roaring to life.

Nick helped Callie hoist herself into the high seats, struggling more himself when his body protested severely. Ward found his seat behind the wheel just as Nick had lifted his arm to let Callie’s head rest back against his chest, both of them melting into the bench seat as Daryl pulled onto the dirt road. Everything across their bodies hurt, even in spots they didn’t know could ache as the distance between them and the battle that almost claimed their lives grew into a shrinking landscape once they’d left the small town.

It was a rough, jumpy ride, but just thinking if the distance they’d already covered if they had had to walk was enough to make them collapse.

“Where are we going?” Callie questioned softly, even if she was sure there would be no answer or clue from either of them as they made their way down the twisting roadway.

↠

Daryl stretched loudly once stepping out of the truck, his sore body for a small moment feeling bliss with his hands above his head and body locked tight in a pleasing stretch. The truck would likely stay here after this visit to the small hospital they’d found nestled in an actual city they’d followed sparse signs into after driving aimlessly for hours, but Ward still kept the doors unlocked on the off chance they found themselves running for their lives again.

He just couldn’t yet shake the feeling he still had to keep an eye over his shoulder.

Rounding the tail of the truck brought him to Callie and Nick who were also stretching past the discomfort in their riddled bodies, staggering around when the blood rushed to their heads.

Callie handed back the rag she’d tied around Nick’s knuckles when he finally picked Makhel’s tusk from his fist before they wandered up to the entrance of the hospital, turning heads towards their startling conditions.

A nurse’s watchful eyes had been on them since they’d first entered, rising from her seat behind the desk before they made it to her, but the closer the came the more she showed concern, mainly at Callie’s obvious condition.

“Puedo ayudarte?” the nurse asked skeptically, eyeing Nick, but he was too exhausted to even care.

Callie pondered that a second. “Fuimos asaltados,” she decided, letting a silent breath go when the nurse showed surprise instead of suspicion and started putting together paperwork.

“She goes first- she’s twenty weeks pregnant,” Nick insisted, ushering her towards the other nurses that were clamoring around them. Ward was trying to understand the quick Spanish being fired at him as they lead him away from the desk and into a wheelchair, and he quickly took advantage of the offered ride, waving at Nick and Callie with his head leaning back and arms slackening against the arm rests.

“You are de… de father?” the nurse asked Nick, the pager phone pressed between her cheek and shoulder.

“Yeah,” he answered distractedly when other nurses started to lead Callie to her own wheelchair, stuffing a pillow behind her back just as a male nurse had come up behind Nick to lead him a different way.

“Wait- wait,” he walked after her quickly, leaning over to plant a few kisses upon her lips, kissing her knuckles before he let them take her. “Be careful with her, that’s my baby.” He told them, walking backwards with a hand on his chest as he watched them wheel her away. She looked back at him with a tired grin, but Nick didn’t budge until the double doors had closed behind her, finally following the other nurses down the hall.

↠

It had been a few hours of examining, poking, stitching and cleaning, but at least she’d been able to stay in the same gurney the entire time so she could nap in between visits, and all the while she’d had the sound of Leo’s steady heartbeat filling the room with the fetal monitor wrapped around her stomach. She’d grin every time the loud swirling of his movement came through the speakers, her hand following his little bumps and kicks.

Ultrasounds and constant monitoring had assured her that, from what they saw, Leo was perfectly fine despite them not knowing how close she’d come to losing him forever.

Approaching chattering outside brought her attention to her door when it opened, smiling when Nick struggled his way in as he argued with nurses, trying to speak over and convince them he had no idea what they were saying as they went on to insist he go back to his room. It wasn’t until Callie translated and explained he was the father- with more surprising looks again- that they calmed, advising him harshly not to jostle her or disrupt any rest.

“Why do they always think I’m gonna assault you?” he questioned aloud, waiting until the door had clicked behind them to lean over and smother her with kisses.

“You look worse than I do,” she giggled between his smooches, noting the stitches across his face and bandaging covering his form.

“How’s my boy?” he asked lovingly, carefully avoiding the monitor as he kissed around her stomach, a wide smile growing across his face when he heard Leo move.

“Everything is clear. Back to doing jumping jacks,” she smiled sleepily.

“Really?” he asked in wonder, pausing to glance up at her as she nodded. “Part of me was convinced he wouldn’t be a hundred percent,”

“Me too,” she ran the back of her knuckles against his cheek as he pressed his face to her stomach. “El es nuestro milagro,”

“I know what that means,” he grinned, a final kiss placing just over her belly button and beside a particularly large bruise. “How’re you feeling baby?”

“Just tired, hungry. I’m sore but they can only get me aspirin,” she explained unenthusiastically.

“They won’t let you eat?” he asked, brows arching.

She shook her head. “Might need an x-ray,”

“That’s stupid,” he grunted, carefully crawling over her legs to plop onto the bed behind her with a loud huff, wrapping his arm under her bust and shaping to her. She groaned appreciatively, flipping the blanket back over his side to comfortably soak in the warmth radiating off him.

“You’re freezing,” he noted, flinching when she pushed her feet back and up between his calves.

“It’s cold in here,” she mumbled, moaning again when he stroked her arm.

It was quiet beside the steady thrum of Leo’s heartbeat, Callie’s skin quickly warming with every second he remained pressed to her. Though he could’ve slept, Nick still had a difficult time taking his eyes off the door, expecting it to blow open at any moment. It only secured his hold around her tighter, mumbling a low apology when she grunted.

“I can’t wait to be home,” she murmured. “We need to figure out what we’re gonna tell people if they ask,”

“Kandomere will be here soon to help,” he said into her hair. She looked back at him, a cut brow raising. “He’s the official we were trying to call before Tikka dropped us in that motel room,”

“How’s he gonna know we’re here?”

“We gave them our names. It’ll ping on his end eventually,” he explained, helping her resituate after slowly rolling onto her other side to face him, the monitor still strapped tightly around her. He gave her a lopsided grin, his bandaged hand smoothing away the dirty strands of hair from her face as she pulled his other hand up to ball under her chin, her big eyes sliding shut when his thumb stroked her chin.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Her voice broke through his sleepy haze.

He sighed, considering telling her nothing, we’ll be fine, but he wasn’t fond of daring anymore lies. “They’ll interrogate us, for hours probably. We’ll be examined again cuz wands are radioactive, and they’ll always keep an eye on you from now on,” he explained, watching the words bring down the light of her eyes little by little.

“Are they-” she cleared her throat when it broke. “Will they be rough?”

Nick’s brows pulled in together. “They won’t lay a finger on you. They’re assholes but they’re not animals,”

That seemed to calm some of the unrest, but she still clung to him nervously, moving his hand to her stomach, tucking her head under his chin. “What do I tell them?”

“The truth, nothing but. You were in the dark up until that night and you were just dragged along after that,”

“And what about you? What’ll they do to you?” Callie questioned.

“Nothing, hopefully. We tried to call Kandomere that night. It’s not like we ran willingly,”he rationalized, but his own words he hoped would keep Callie steady did little to pacify his own concerns. Her dissatisfied hum wasn’t unexpected. Nick knew in situations like this the only real reassurance for either of them would be seeing the ordeal at its end. There was no real knowing until then.

“So,” he cut through the tension. “How’re we gonna tell everyone we know we’re having a boy?”

She giggled, craning her head back to look at him. “Let’s just slip it into a normal conversation and see if they notice,”

“My mom’ll pick that up right away. She was hell bent on a girl,”

“Everyone was,” she mumbled, grimacing when her stomach growled loudly.

“Okay,” he kissed her forehead before struggling up onto his hands. “I’m gonna go find food,” he groaned, crawling back over her with difficulty.

“No, come back and spoon me,” she whined, wincing when her thigh twitched and aggravated the stitched wound.

“I’ll be back,” he leaned over to place a few more lasting kisses on her waiting lips. Now that there was no blasts overhead or the constant looming threat, Nick found it easy to lose himself in her touch featherlight across his face, even indulging in a few swipes of his tongue against hers that kick-started a steady chuff that blew across her cheek when his mouth wandered to her jaw.

“A nurse is gonna come in if you keep that up,” she whispered, catching his mouth again.

“Food,” he groaned, standing straight. “Food.” He did that funny little walk to the door, the snug jeans accentuating the sudden arrival of an unexpected guest. Now’s not the time, you dick. He flipped the lights off before hobbling out, knowing she preferred the darkness over the fluorescent lighting and figured she could get a cat nap in before he returned with his earnings.

Callie flashed her own mock snarl when he did before closing the door behind himself, then situating her head deeper into the crisp pillows she’d been propped up with. The bed wasn’t nearly as warm without Nick, but sleep was blanketing her, and now that Leo was calming, she found it easy to slip under, his heart beat still echoing through the room.

“Hey, there you are,” Nick had poked his head into the room upon seeing Daryl’s first and last name spelled incorrectly on the door, finding his friend sprawled across a bed with three emptied and cluttered food trays around him. “Now we know who got the better treatment,”

“I’m assumin’ that means they hate Orcs here like they do in LA?” Daryl queried, turning the volume down on the TV.

“I had to go find food for Callie,” he conveyed bitterly, grunting as he sat in the chair beside his bed.

“That’s fucked up,” his partner agreed. “So how we gon’ get back home after this?”

Nick looked at him derisively. “You know MTF will come kickin’ down the doors soon,”

Ward sighed, staring blankly at the TV. “Yeah, I just didn’t want to think about it,”

“At least we’ll have a ride home,”

“Then we gotta sit in those fuckin’ cells,”

Nick chewed his inner lip. There was no making light of that. “Excited to see Sherri?”

Daryl had only a flat stare for the Orc as his answer, feeling he didn’t actually have to get into the details of how sick he felt just thinking of the fight he was going home to. “Don’t you have’ta get that to Callie?”

Nick took the cue, standing with another sore grunt with his bag of various snacks to amble back to the door. “Find you when Kandomere does.” Nick sneered, closing the door behind him.

He’d long since given up trying to fall asleep after the last nurse came in to take Callie’s vitals and check the ongoing stream of Leo’s heartbeat printed across the endless paper. Even if she had been unreasonably loud and stirred Callie rather rudely, at least she’d kept the lights off so all she had to do was roll back against his chest and pass out after begging Leo to stop kicking her bladder. It left him wide awake and skipping through fuzzy channels on the old TV, sometimes rocking his raised knee to make the bed move and settle Leo down when he inevitably started to thrash enough to wake Callie up.

The fatigue sat in his eyes, but no matter how long he kept them closed in the dark of the room or voided his mind of any tangible thoughts, he just couldn’t shut off his brain. They’d come springing back like a rubberband, louder than before.

Everytime he looked down at Callie in a deep sleep and drooling against his shoulder, he’d see her fading in his arms. He wanted those moments wiped from his memory, but he expected nights filled with nightmares for weeks to come before he found any relief of the sort from them.

So he’d focus on her rosy cheeks, and steal small kisses against her chin or jaw when she’d groan and stir, her head always lifting but eyes remaining shut. What he wouldn’t do to be in their own bed again, without the wires taped and needles stuck in her despite enjoying listening to Leo’s monitor. He just wanted to be in familiar walls, driving down familiar streets-

A familiar, high pitched group of sirens came through the curtained window, and Nick couldn’t help but scoff.

Perfect timing.

“Baby?” Nick patted her thigh over his hips, rubbing when she nuzzled her face against his shoulder. “We gotta go,”

She barely opened her eyes, still rolled halfway back into her skull. “We can’t go an’where,” she slurred, her eyes sliding shut again.

Nick sighed; the extended nap she’d been in clearly wasn’t enough. “They’re here,”

That brought her to consciousness a little more. Callie rested her chin on his shoulder, looking directly at him with one eye open. “What if I mess up?”

“You can’t if you tell the truth,” he reaffirmed.

“But what if I do and they don’t let me go? Or I can’t see you?” she swallowed, her big eyes filling with worry.

“That’s not gonna happen, okay? I won’t let it,” he’d risen to rest on his elbow, holding her face so she’d recognize the sincerity of his words. “MTF chose to cover everything up after the first time-all those murders, all the involvement. They just want things quiet so they can keep slinking around,”

He kissed away her cynical gaze, untangling from her hold before standing stiffly to stretch past the discomfort still riddling his frame.

“Do you think they’ll even release us to them?” she grunted as she sat up, rolling her head back to crack her neck. Stiff beds with thin mattresses only made everything agonize even more across her battered body, she still desiring more sleep, but she didn’t need Nick’s keen hearing to catch the commotion down the hall. Brief arguing before an even briefer silence, and Nick rounded the bed to stand by her just as the door had opened to reveal sharply dressed individuals that swept the room quickly, uncaring of the racket they made.

Nick shook his head with a roll of his eyes when Callie glanced at him; all bark and no bite, he wanted to say.

At last Kandomere stepped in, his unimpressed frown almost making Nick snort, but he withheld from even grinning; surely he’d dealt with his own headaches trying to track them down. Clad in classic Kandomere attire, he crossed his arms, looking between them to scrutinize the various bandages and overall disheveled manner. A morbid curiosity showed in his bowed brows when his line of sight landed on Callie’s stomach, but Nick knew his general disgust in their coupling would prevent any prodding on his part over the matter.

“Well,” Kandomere cleared his throat. “Are we coming willingly?”

“We would’ve been more than willing three days ago,” Nick recounted, rousing little of a reaction from him.

“I hope you have a decent explanation as to why you abruptly vanished,”

“I hope you have a decent explanation as to why the officials that were supposed to be with us weren’t,” without skipping a beat Nick fired back, just as unwilling to pussyfoot around as he.

Kandomere shifted, those metallic eyes hesitating on Callie’s before he turned to the officer that walked in behind him, nodding at his hushed words.

“We’ll continue this back in California. Officer Ward is already waiting with transport.” He directed while turning to walk out, the tightly wound officials following.

Nick visibly relaxed, pushing off the bed to start gathering their sparse belongings.

“Well that was underwhelming,” Callie intoned. Nick faced her with a questioning raise of his brow. “I was expecting Men in Black, not Billie Eilish,”

Nick snorted loudly, continuing to chuckle as he finished rounding up their possessions, which turned out to only be her blood splattered shoes and her tattered clothing that he wouldn’t make her change back into. The scrubs she’d been offered weren’t ideal for the winter weather, but they were all around less alarming.

A nurse alongside the stoic doctor filed in soon after, reluctantly releasing Callie with stern instructions to stay out of trouble, solidifying their assumption that he hadn’t really bought that they’d been mugged. She was disconnected from the monitor and IV, but there was little to nothing she or Nick could do no matter how they wanted to stay to ensure Leo was completely out of the woods.

By the time they made their way through the secluded hospital and to the row of undeniably gorgeous jet-black SUV’s that stood out glaringly amongst the modest city they were nestled in, Ward was already sat in one, back in his dirty, frayed clothing. The grimace that bowed his returning mustache better suited him than the relaxed nature Nick had walked in on when he was still stretched across a gurney.

“I bet this didn’t raise any questions crossing the border,” Callie said below her breath as Nick opened the door to a separate car; he felt cramming in with Daryl would only prolong the suffering on everyone's end.

“At least we’re riding in comfort. I’m guessing it’s gonna be a long drive.” Nick mentioned after finding his seat beside her.

Thankfully they’d chosen the SUV Kandomere wouldn’t be riding shotgun in, but even if they had, Nick was sure he would’ve excused himself to a different car rather than be stuck with the Orc and his knocked up human. He could care less; it meant not having to worry about remaining uptight instead of comfortably leaning against Callie just as she did against him.

The line of black vehicles turned heads of people making their way through the streets as the last of the sunset filtered through the stacked homes and sparse businesses, the quaint city shrinking behind them. This could have been one of the small spots they’d find themselves in during one of their spontaneous visits, soaking in the sun and filling up on local food. Neither of them knew if they’d ever be able to return to their favorite vacation spot after the events that had unfolded, but both would agree they didn’t want to be venturing far once home, at least for a while.

But to get back home? It was a lot more than just a lengthy ride.

On top of the erratic and reckless manner of driving that left them thrown around in the back seats, the side to side started a particularly ruthless bout of motion sickness that Nick’s harsh beratement to the driver did little to stop, at least until Callie threatened to crawl between the seats and unload it in his lap.

There was also just getting comfortable in the stiff seats for those hours; trying to squeeze in a few naps to help the time go by since staring out the window was only so exciting with no music and little conversation in between. Their bathroom breaks were rushed, the time to select food for the remainder of the ride even shorter.

Even Kandomere looked ready to explode by the time they finally made it into LA, driving through familiar streets and finally starting to feel like the past few days could be put behind them, but they only veered away past the route that would have landed them home. Soon, they were before a series of structures Callie had always assumed were doctors offices for separate specialties- Nick also, his jaw was hung a little once the realization hit- but as they turned into the empty parking lot and pulled below the buildings to stop in the ill-lit underground garage, it was apparent from the guards stood by the elevators and levels of security to get past that MTF headquarters had been close to home all this time.

“Miss Flores, if you’d follow me,” Montehugh met them at their final entry through a door that only opened through keycard verification; surely Kandomere had notified him about their arrival.

Her timid glance up at him almost drove Nick to fight for their way out of there; they’d gone through so fucking much, he just wanted to take her home, but he knew getting this over with was the best way, even if it meant separating from her for hours unknown.

“I’ll see you soon.” He squeezed the back of her neck, refusing to look away until she nodded, even if it was weak. A few firm kisses helped lift her spirits a little more before she followed Montehugh back into a separate interview room, repeating Nick’s words in her head: just tell the truth.

And that’s exactly what they did- all three of them.

It started with the night Tikka ambushed Sergey, which led them back to Callie being cornered by Makhel; the second individual who’d been aiding to the destruction around LA, sending their trackers and alerts off frequently yet unable to hone in on what caused them. The same night they had tried phoning Kandomere over Tikka being just outside, he’d already been on his way to the diversion Makhel had caused thinking it was Tikka; both of them had had MTF running around like headless chickens.

Upon learning about just how maniacally powerful Makhel was, coupled with the disaster he left behind, it was clear none of them stood much of a chance on their own, which is why she sought out Ward. Maybe MTF would have been able to prevent it all if they’d made it in time, but he was such a dangerously erratic individual that surely it wouldn’t have been one simple take down. Surely some, or even multiple officials would have lost their lives just like the innocent bystanders he’d been claiming along his warpath.

While it was true that Makhel had been successful in murdering hundreds of Brights, all three of them disputed the level of involvement Rania had with it.

Kandomere insisted vehemently that she was just as responsible, but Nick fought back, detailing her sacrifice to spare Ward, expose Tikka- even offering some of her final moments to rekindle Callie and Leo before ultimately letting Makhel deal the last blow if it meant saving all of them with the exception of Fero. If it hadn’t been for her, even as she fought past her own demise, surely Callie wouldn’t be sitting in a room just down the hall. Ward likely would be dead, maybe Nick- definitely Tikka, even though they had no idea where they had left her in that deserted town.

Nick was certain Kandomere’s stance on Rania was umovable once it was revealed she was an Orc hybrid; his view on anything Orc was hideously skewed, so why would he think a half-Orc was capable of anything good?

Nick’s battling turned Kandomere hostile. Never had he seen such an outburst; a thrown chair and papers swept off the tables surface, his usually pale skin darkening into a furious flush as he hollered at the officer, but he stuck to his guns even as the elf berated him with accusations of a cover-up. All of their first hand accounts correlated flawlessly, but that still didn’t calm Kandomere’s bitterness, but Nick couldn’t blame him entirely. He’d spent the better part of his adult life hunting down Tikka’s bloodline and anyone Inferni, so to think that anyone involved with her could even possibly be innocent just wasn’t plausible.

When Tikka’s defective and deceptive plan was explained, it was like being handed the pieces of the trail MTF couldn’t complete.

They finally knew why she’d ventured back to LA so suddenly, but without her in custody, all of their efforts to find the three taken against their will and the repeated interrogations was ultimately useless.

Daryl and Nick were surprised the interrogations ended so quickly, but without the one person they intended on apprehending, and without either wand, they were shipped off to Medical. If MTF was cold before, they were glacial now.

It seemed they’d expected more out of them, even as victims of a kidnapping and near murder, and now they were useless to them once again.

Nick could care less when Kandomere ordered him out, the crook of his palm cupping his forehead as the beginnings of a sharp headache creeped under his skull. It made Nick wonder who the Elf reported to; who he faced with the grim news, but that thought was quickly pushed aside as he was taken to the separate facility that was a clear stretch across the underground structure, then up again, leading him to the same barren medical floor he’d stayed briefly in after their first encounter with the wand.

A long sigh of relief dropped his tense shoulders when he spotted Callie after scanning the wide floor quickly, her blood being drawn and pressure and oxygen being monitored with the other arm.

He flashed her a reassuring grin when she spotted him, her head perking up immediately, but he still had to go through the drills.

The stripping, disinfecting, examining for any remnants of the wand across their skin. Stitches were undone and redone, wounds again cleaned and bandaged; x-rays, ultrasounds, geiger counters- all of it. He was sore all over again by the time he’d been scrubbed raw and sent to a bed barefoot in stif scrubs, but he took hold of his own IV pole to first maneuver before Callie who’d finally been able to lay back after a much more extensive and invasive examination. She’d been physically exposed to magic, but even with all the tests done there was no knowing if it would effect with Leo or herself down the line.

He wrapped her in a bone crushing hug, scrunching his nose past the strong stench of disinfectant wash in her hair and skin. “We’re almost done,” he mumbled into her hair, feeling her nod under his chin.

“Okay.” She exhaled, unwillingly unwinding from him when he moved to his own bed to be connected to his own monitors and have his own blood drawn.

There was another long wait after they were finally left in peace to rest in their beds as the night ended and another soft LA sunrise started to creep through the massive windows lining the space they were in. Likely the higher ups were deciding what to do with them- compiling their accounts and their credibility. Neither Ward or Nick knew what could happen if it was decided they were lying, but Nick wouldn’t voice that to Callie. He believed she could make it home even if it was decided he wouldn’t; Callie had been roped in against her will. There was no reason for her to even still be there when it came down to it.

He watched her drifting in and out of sleep, her eyes meeting his in between the heavy blinks. The thin sheets did little to keep her warm in the cool room, he could tell. She was curled tight around her stomach, her arm hung over the edge of the bed.

Even if he stretched he couldn’t reach her, and it started to weaken his patience.

It was impossible not to count the minutes dragging by when all he had to do was watch the sun move higher into the sky, sometimes rolling over to ask how Ward was doing, but there was only stiff head shakes and a stiffer purse of his lips, his eyes trailing the armed and suited officials standing at each end of their beds.

After a while he started to drift, the dull stinging from the reopened wounds across him and bruises dulling enough to allow his mind to slip into a quiet place, but he was worried if he let himself wander there, he’d wake up to find himself alone.

There was brief times he let his eyes rest, only to jitter awake and realize he’d been out longer then he meant when the sun was in a different location in the sky, and although he told himself to remain vigilant, it happened again and again. The fourth time it happened, the sun was setting, but by then, he was too tired to care. Nick could barely find the energy to keep his eyes blinking rapidly enough to look over at Callie who had tossed and thrown her sheets around, finally settled into a deep sleep.

At least she’s sleeping, he thought to himself before eyeing the guard at his bed who had taken a look at her longer than Nick cared for.

His brows arched weakly, a low growl rolling off of him loud enough to bring the guards attention to the Orc who then chuffed, asserting his claim over his mate. Even if he only received an eyeroll in return, he made his stance known.

Nick exhaled. To a fucking human- real effective, dumbass.

He adjusted his head, fighting a yawn in his throat until it erupted.

If he could stay awake, just a little longer…

“Jakoby.”

Nick sprang up, the film over his eyes only adding to the confusion when he looked about and for a dragging second, didn’t recognize the room he was in until he found Callie sitting up in the gurney beside his. In a few short strokes of time, he was reacclimated, and now staring at Kandomere who was before the three of them, his hair tied back and fatigue hanging under his eyes.

“Sleep well?” Kandomere’s thick voice carried through the open floor, but Nick’s chuff carried farther.

“Okay we’re all up, let’s get this shit going so we can get the fuck outta here,” Daryl interjected before Nick and Kandomere started one of their typical squabbles.

“As you know we’ve been going over the details of your kidnapping to determine whether or not you had any willing involvement in what transpired, and we’ve been in contact with a team left behind in Balderrama to authenticate your claims-”

“Lemme guess, Tikka wasn’t there?” Ward already knew without asking, but Kandomere’s stiff nod verified it. Not surprised.

“We did not find her or the wands,” he exhaled sharply, “but we did find the bodies of the three you detailed,”he paused to open the folder he’d been holding, turning a few pages. “Makhel Portela, Rania Almeida and Fero Dragavei who in fact used to operate under Florida’s MTF branch,” he laid out photos along Daryl’s bed as he explained, their mutilated bodies frozen in time forever.

“She left Fero there?” Nick asked, grabbing the photos when handed to him.

“What good does carrying around a body do?” Callie asked, who had risen from her bed creakily to come sit by Nick, and look down at Rania’s photo dismally. She’d been scooped clean of every fiber of life, leaving her a discolored husk. “What’ll happen to their bodies?”

“Dragavei signed a proper disposal of remains contract when he first signed up, so he’ll be sent back to Florida and likely cremated to prevent distribution of his organs. The Orc will be autopsied and studied, and the hybrid will be held until we can locate any family or next of kin,” Kandomere explained, gathering the photos again.

“Distribution of his organs? Like on the black market?” Nick asked, somewhat perplexed.

“Bright remains are worth millions but otherwise useless,”

Callie held up Rani’s photo. “Can you go through the school they were at?”

“The school was destroyed after most of Shield of Light was killed off,”

“Her dad’s name is Tannatar, she told me,”

Kandomere nodded. “I’ll pass it on,”

It didn’t help much, but Callie hoped it would help reunite Rania with her family, even if what they would come to see was dismal.

“And us? You gonna send us out in body bags too?” Ward snapped; if he was destined to a bullet in the head or the rest of his years in a dingy underground cell, he wanted to get on with it already.

For once Kandomere chuckled. “No,” he cleared his throat, composing himself before facing Nick and Callie.

“On the night of March 14th, a dome of light hovering over downtown LA for approximately two and a half minutes was reported but found to be only an explosion from one of the businesses connected to a chain mall. You two happened to be shopping in that center at the time of the explosion, and tonight,” he glanced at his impressive pocket watch. “In twenty three minutes, you’ll be discharged and return home for two weeks of rest and rehabilitation. Your place of employment has already been notified,” he acknowledged Callie when her hand started to raise in concern, but it landed back in her lap.

“You were called to the scene of that same explosion when it was announced that terrorists could have been the direct cause, subsequently leading to exposure of an unknown gas leaking from the site. You were held in quarantine for three days and were discharged two hours ago but had to visit the precinct to retrieve your personal effects,” he then relayed to Ward, passing out their mock medical documents.

They all stared vacantly at Kandomere although listening intently, and although it seemed far fetched to blame their disappearances on a mock explosion, it smoothed over better than being hijacked by a Bright and hunted down by another.

“And I need not remind you all that you were exposed to raw magic and the wand for extended periods of time. You’ve all been cleared but stay vigilant for side effects of plasma poisoning, especially you,” he pointed to Callie. “We still don’t know how magic affects the body long term. I advise you to see your doctor soon,”

“I assume we still have a mountain of paperwork to sign?” Nick asked.

“Refusal will land you in a hole for the rest of your life,” Kandomere replied coolly.

Whereas the men had expected it, Callie hadn’t, and his cavalier manner about the entire cover-up rattled her nerves.

“Will we go back to the weekly interviews?” Nick asked, his tone dissatisfied.

“No. It obviously couldn’t keep you two out of trouble, but until Tikka is apprehended, you all will have a tail on you for your own safety,”

“Will they stay there or run off when there’s another explosion?” Ward mouthed off without a reply from Kandomere as he glided off towards a table with paperwork covering its surface.

“Do you think anyone even noticed we were gone?” Callie mumbled, but Nick shook his head.

“It was only two days we were gone,” he whispered back.

“Feels like weeks though.”

The clearing of a throat brought them back to Kandomere, the papers in order and three pens in hand as he waited.

The trio sighed, their impatience growing by the second.

More car rides that seemed to drag on longer than the interrogations.

Daryl had left in separate transport, voicing to Nick that if he should not show up to work by the time their leave was over with, it was Sherri who likely murdered him.

Slipping back into the crusty, rancid clothing only aided her anxiousness watching every street light turn red upon their arrival to the next intersection. Knowing exactly where she was now meant she knew exactly how long it took to get home, and she also knew that the ride from the unlabeled building was a stretch across town. Nick was silent beside her while often pulling her back by the shoulders in hopes she’d relax at least a little.

She’d stay settled for half a minute at most, resorting to leaning over her round stomach to take note of the landmarks zooming by them.

Nick finally kept an arm locked around her shoulders, his grip unyielding one of the times she tried to tug her way upright.

To say he was calm though would be a lie; he was just better at hiding his anxiousness, but watching Callie fidget around started to making his knee bounce.

When the SUV turned onto their street, they were already gathering their items, the door swinging open before the car could come to a complete stop. There were no goodbyes or even curt nods in thanks- only the swift slam of the door once they’d stepped onto the sidewalk, and it was off.

The neighborhood was quiet, as it always was this time of night, only the soft spraying of sprinklers from an adjacent lawn. Even the air in LA smelled homey; taco shops and smog, who would’ve thought Nick could appreciate something like that.

“Would it make sense if I said the sidewalk felt nice?” Nick smiled, but glancing over found her slumped shoulders and fatigue seemingly having increased tenfold. “What’s wrong?”

She rubbed her eyes while croaking, “Pucca’s in there,”

The joy upon arriving home was kicked clear off. He ran his hand across the top of his head with a deep groan. In the midst of the marathons of interrogations and exams and contracts, it had admittedly slipped right through the cracks of his mind. Three days later, he knew they’d be dealing with quite a morbid scene and the heartache they’d left behind as they ran.

“I’ll go in first,” he offered, but she shook her head, blinking away the start of tears.

“No I wanna go in too,” she took a steadying breath, clearing the crack in her voice when the constricting of repressed sobs tightened her throat. “She’s my baby too. I want to help.”

Surely she was wary, but her hardened brows and stiff frown showed determination through the exhaustion.

He slipped his palm into hers, leading her up the dewy lawn to the broken door closed only enough to make passing eyes think it still had a doorknob and deadbolt. Nick pushed the door open, flipping on the light and following Callie in.

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

i did my best on that fight scene but if it's bad, forgive me! those kind of scenes are ffffffffucking hard to write 🖤 AND YAY TIME TO START GETTING BACK TO CUTE FLUFFY STUFF CUZ MAKHEL IS DONE.

thank you for all who continue to stick around while the updates are not staggered! i appreciate each and every one of you!!! if anyone has any questions about the characters (because i know i've been kind of vague about the details and backgrounds) please feel free to drop an ask! and as always, feedback is appreciated!

Translations: +Agh thaav'uk killaumn mausan fuckaumn hundur: that's for killing my fucking dog.

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armsdealing · 4 years

Text

charles derane’s apocalypse verse notes.

basics.

codename: hawthorne -- this is a name/nickname he will occasionally use when he does not feel like going by his actual name. height: six feet four inches weight: 274 lbs (formerly 295 lbs) transportation: 2001 Dodge Ram - Black (looks)

appearance:

standing at 6’4”, charles is massive in size and along those lines, incredibly imposing in posture – straight and ready unless otherwise required. not only that, but his build packs 274 lbs of muscle/fat that he’s had even before the outbreak and he’s been very careful to maintain at all possible costs. while it’s true that he had the weight lost typical of survivors, he remains hefty and able to endure and perform physical tasks with ease. this is a skill developed from childhood, and charles has formidable dexterity and control of his body, moving through the environment with the speed necessary to outrun even the most feverish of zombies or fight them with melee weaponry. he has very broad shoulders and thick biceps and forearms, muscular legs, and a solid stomach and chest, even if it lacks tone. despite all this, he’s able to remain graceful, movements characterized by their stealth rather than flaunting his physical appearance with noise and clumsiness. when needed, his walking might as well be referred to as an experienced hunter’s prowl, used to both rural and urban scenarios to explore and navigate.

slightly sharper features have been the main toll taken by a lack of steady food source. the biggest change remains in his head, though; charles actually is incredibly survival-driven and apathetic toward anything that won’t ensure said survival. he doesn’t care about anything or anyone but himself, and he will make a point to show it. needless to say – he won’t be very friendly.

due to a lack of efficient razors, charles sports an unkempt dirty and bloody beard that he only maintains at bay with a knife but otherwise leaves to grow as extra protection in harsh temperatures. this makes a good job at covering the lower half of his face, filling out the spots where body fat or muscle lacks. his hair is messy, but consistently kept short by comparison – and surprisingly soft to the touch if ever actually touched. but it’s true; he neither is nor looks friendly, and if ever forced to speak, it’ll be in the form of gruff mumbles and a desire to keep the conversation as short as possible. there is no discernable accent in his voice, save a very rugged pitch and texture born from disuse, and the only hint at coming from somewhere is a shortening of words typical of the southern american dialect – found in his closest post-apocalypse allies, the beckett family.

tics are bound to be picked up if too much time is spent around him. while at first glance you won’t see nothing but a very large man you’d want nothing but to get away from, there is a cleverness to his eyes that makes it noticeable he is very aware of what happens around him and what happens to you. he will pick up on movements, expressions, with nigh perfect accuracy – and know the very moment you’re reaching for the gun tucked on your side or planning to propel forward for an offensive. he reads people before ever coming close to them, which is an important point to keep in mind – while he has no problem whatsoever with violence and even, at this point in his background, with killing, charles would rather keep things distant, and he’d rather you left him in peace. he tends to look around himself when idle, unconsciously even, as a remnant of situational awareness, and so coming from behind is nearly impossible.

on that same vein, other minor habits include adjusting and readjusting his pack and its straps; a lot of his supplies are in that bag, and he makes sure to check regularly that everything is in place and he can move without fear of losing it. he twists his neck and rolls his shoulders, cracks his knuckles when it is necessary, and might scratch his cheek and beard. when he speaks, he might sigh occasionally, and grunt even more so, nod and shake his head and gesture directions rather than mention them, clench his jaw when he doesn’t like how an exchange is going, raise an eyebrow when he’s questioning you, shrug to disregard your questions, purse his lips when he’s being thoughtful. people have met him and not heard him speak even once because of his taciturn nature, keeping to commands that he does need to elaborate on and that is it. when forced to speak at greater length, expect hostility and a sharp sarcasm that might take you off guard.

clothing wise the apocalypse does not allowfor anything but light packing, and his shirts are comfortable and visibly worn, sometimes torn. he has no attachments to any particular piece of clothing – with the exception of his jacket and his steel toe combat boots, and will not hesitate to switch clothings the second he sees an opportunity to do it. ever present is the pack strapped to his back along his shotgun, however. he will go for the comfortable and things that will last him, most commonly henleys or plaids, western cut. nothing colorful and in fact, probably dirty. long sleeves are preferable, given most deaths to zombies being due to an exposed limb. he does not care about how he looks under any normal circumstances, and how he looks like – like the lone survivor he is – isn’t his primary concern. if he ever cleaned up, he’d be much more handsome.

when found in close quarters to him, the smell of forest will be practically a staple, along with with sweat and grease, scents that have followed him. occasionally, smoke may be added, when he’s been near fire. such is the case with gun powder or blood, the latter which he washes away when he has the opportunity to.

skin deep, it is surprising that he does not sport any tattoos of note or at all. he has never been interested by the idea. what he does have, though, is scars in spades, some – many – dating back to his very childhood, teenagehood, and pre-apocalypse adulthood. his knuckles are very scarred, as are his arms and legs, with an assortment of prints left by experiences that range from simple falls to glass to blades. in his very face rests a cut on the bridge of his nose, and another on the left side of his cheek/jaw that leaves a thin scratch in his beard devoid of hair. another quite visible scar going across his right eye that took some eyebrow with it.

INVENTORY | WEAPONS (8)

aluminium baseball bat. found in his truck.

glock g17. found on his person. (spare ammo? yes)

smith & wesson 629. concealed on his person. (spare ammo? yes)

smith & wesson model 59. full magazine. in his backpack. (spare ammo? yes)

winchester fixed blade knife. in his backpack.

mossberg 590 mariner. holstered in his back with a strap. (spare ammo? yes)

remington 700pss with leupold mark 4 scope. in his truck (5 rounds. fully loaded. spare ammo? no)

makeshift blade. (looks) concealed on his person.

INVENTORY | ITEMS (12)

(1) backpack (looks). usually on his person or the back of his truck. very worn looking and dirty.

(5) cigarettes. lucky strike. kept in their package, inside his backpack.

(1) canteen (looks). water. normally full. inside his backpack. 34 oz.

(1) flask (looks). empty.

(1) zippo lighter (looks). on his person.

(1) leather journal (looks). inside his backpack.

(1) swiss blade (looks). on his person.

(1) duct tape roll. inside his backpack.

(1) first aid kit: (1) sterilized needle, (3) aspirins, (10) band-aids, (2) gauze, (1) surgical tape, (1) small bottle of rubbing alcohol. neatly pressed in a small bag (looks). inside his backpack.

(1) compass (looks). usually in his pocket.

whenever possible he has a map of whichever location he’s in.

he tries to keep a jug of spare gasoline in his car whenever possible.

BASELINE INVENTORY | CLOTHES & ACCESSORIES (8)

steel toe combat boots (looks). worn.

2 extra pairs of shirts.

jeans (looks) very worn, as well as torn.

canvas coat (looks) worn.

leather jacket (looks).

spare underwear.

one spare pairs of socks, besides the ones he wears, in his backpack.

BASELINE INVENTORY | FOOD & EDIBLES (9)

2L water canteen. usually full. ** (looks)

(2) goya black bean cans. **

(1) b&m baked beans**

(2) chicken bouillon**

(1) progresso chicken noodle soup.**

(1) jar of peanut butter’s co.*

(2) hard tack packs.*

(1) fruit snack.*

* kept in backpack ** kept in car.

BACKGROUND / VERSE NOTES.

this information will be used interchangeably for any apocalypse/zombie themed scenario that presents themselves. hence i didn’t write about a single specific storyline.

charles is a rover and this is by choice. however, he does have alliances, most notably with the o’connell compound located in garnet, montana (click here for more information on it -- when i post it that is :^)).

charles usually acts as though he has no set role; however, this is false: his job is to track other settlements and map out other places of the united states to see how they’re doing, then relay this information back to the compound -- hence the journal he has on hand. he usually winds up there once every two to five months, depending on how far he wanders off. he will also hunt down rare supplies, and outline “no-go” zones, either because the place is swarmed or because the settlements are hostile.

this information is normally used with the purpose of establishing communication between the settlements, if charles deems it useful and favorable. this goes back to whether he finds the settlement in question trustworthy and reliable. not all of them cut it.

otherwise, he will never disclose the existence of the o’connell compound. you could set fire to his leg and he wouldn’t do it.

exceptions are only if he finds you alone and you’re a child. he will try to take you back to the compound so you’re safe.

in this verse charles is 49, and still a father. cael derane is 20 and living in garnet. he’s a trained medic and occasionally will tag along for specific situations.

charles is unfriendly and does not like to work with others but he is pragmatic first and foremost and if you present yourself useful then he will consider forming an alliance for however necessary he deems it. again, the presence of children and young (his kid’s age, basically) people does a lot to sway him. he is very fatherly.

#this one's for u coty #* charles.#filed under: carry the fire.#long post ///

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whiskynottea · 5 years

Photo

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47

AO3

@theministerskat , my Detroit airport and Ann Arbor specialist, thank you so much for your help!

Chapter 48. Closer

“Gimme a ticket for an airplane, I ain’t got time to take the fast train. Lonely days are gone – ”

“Lamb! Stop it!”

“What?” My uncle looked at me, with a most innocent face. “What’s wrong with The Box Tops? I’m trying to get you in the mood for your flight!”

“I am in the mood, I don’t need your singing to help me!” I huffed, looking out of the car window.

Will it be raining in Michigan, too?

Lamb was driving ridiculously slow, casually tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he sang, when all I could think of was reaching the airport and getting on the plane that would take me to Jamie.

Well, I wouldn’t get exactly on that plane.

The first plane would get me to London. Then a second one would whisk me across the Atlantic to Chicago. And finally, after a third flight from Chicago to Detroit, I would finally get to see my Scot. Really see him. Run my hands through his red hair. Smell the spices of his perfume. Tickle him until he would beg for mercy. Kiss him until there would be no breath left in his lungs.

In twenty-two hours I would be standing in front of him - if I could still stand. I would most likely crawl to him, unable to move after travelling for so many hours.

I didn’t care. I would be in Michigan.

Total flying time was almost twelve hours. Total time of the journey, twenty-two. Cheap flights. Not everyone can handle it - or so I was told by Lamb.

Scot: Have you arrived at the airport?

Sassenach: Almost. You know how Lamb drives.

Scot: Tomorrow you’ll be here, babe.

Sassenach: I wish I could just apparate.

Scot: You haven’t taken an Apparition Test.

Sassenach: Since when do Gryffindors care about rules?

Scot: It wouldn’t do to get you here splinched, wee Ravenclaw witch.

I choked back a laugh that made Lamb shoot me a questioning glance. “I haven’t seen you so happy since you got your letter from Oxford. Which was almost a month ago, if I remember correctly.”

“More than a month,” I murmured. In retrospect, it seemed even longer.

The first day or two, I had spent the majority of my time on Google maps, mentally strolling around Oxford via computer screen. Then, I caught up with a few TV shows Jenny and Joe had been raving about. I read books that had nothing to do with human anatomy and physiology and enjoyed staying at home, a cup of tea and a hardcover in my lap, the rain pelting down on the living room windows.

Joe and Gail had left for New York, their semester starting when Jamie’s had. Jenny and Ian remained in Beauly after the summer had ended. They had both accepted their offers to the University of Edinburgh and they would come back in September, which was exactly when I would be leaving for Oxford. Jenny and I talked almost every day, but I missed having everyone in close proximity. It felt as though I had been left behind.

The flight to London was less than two hours and I had resolved myself to watching a movie, when the tiny lady sitting next to me started talking. I smiled politely and nodded more times than I could count, and kept making attempts to insert my headphones while I silently prayed that she would get the message. She didn’t. Her son was graduating and then getting married and “Oh ye can imagine, dearie, how many things remain to be done!” Even if I couldn’t imagine, I didn’t need to. By the end of our journey, she had listed and analyzed them all, pausing only once or twice. Most probably to breathe, I had thought. Her enthusiasm made me smile. Her nasal voice, however, made my head buzz by the time we arrived at Heathrow. Mrs Macallan - “Like the whisky, ye ken?” - was sweet and kind hearted, but I felt lucky to be getting away from her on my next flight.

After retrieving my oversized rucksack, and bidding her farewell, I walked around the airport, absentmindedly looking at window displays and testing several perfumes. Finally, bored and tired, I searched for a quiet place to sit.

Sassenach: Seven more hours in Heathrow.

Scot: In thirteen hours I will kiss the hell out of you.

Sassenach: Oh really?

Scot: Yes. I can’t stop thinking about it.

Sassenach: Me or the kissing?

Scot: Both.

Sassenach: Hmm where are you?

Scot: Just finished up at the pool. We’re going to a place called “Fraser’s Pub”!

Sassenach: So you’re already THAT famous there?

Scot: Aye, restaurants open in my honor. I can’t help it Sassenach.

Sassenach: Snob.

Scot: Oh, is that you Ms. ‘I’m studying at Oxford, you common peasants’?

Sassenach: Ass.

Scot: THIRTEEN HOURS!!

Sassenach: Twelve and forty-five minutes 😛

Scot: I love you, got to go, the guys have started making fun of me. Ttyl?

Sassenach: Okay. I’ll be right here.

A ridiculous picture followed right after that, with Jamie’s lips so close to the camera I could hardly recognize them. Then another one, with him and John smiling broadly, heads bent together. I sent him a picture of me cuddled up next to my huge grey and purple rucksack and then tried to get as comfortable as possible, determined to get some sleep.

It seemed I was one of those people who can sleep wherever and whenever they want, not allowing anything to disturb them. Not the endless amount of people passing by, not their phone ringing, not even announcements calling their name.

When I opened my eyes, my phone had fifteen unanswered calls, nineteen unread messages, and two missed alarms. The most terrifying of all, however, was the time.

I had ten minutes to be at my gate and I didn’t even know which gate I was supposed to be at.

I picked up my bag, hoisted it unceremoniously over my shoulder and started running.

I had struggled to sleep the last two nights, the excitement of visiting Jamie making dozing off an impossible task. And now that I had a plane to catch, I fell asleep in the airport, and slept for more than six hours!

Seriously, now?

I was the last person through the boarding gate and I was the only one who went through it gasping for breath. When I finally took my seat, I checked my phone. All the missed calls and messages were from Jamie, all saying pretty much the same thing.

Where are you?!

Sassenach: Just got on the plane. OMG THAT WAS SO CLOSE! I almost missed my flight. I can actually hear my heart beating inside my chest.

Jamie replied immediately.

Scot: You scared the shit out of me, do you know that? First, I was afraid that you’d miss the flight, then I was terrified that something happened to you.

Sassenach: I’m sorry. 😞

Scot: You better be.

Sassenach: I didn’t do it on purpose!

I quickly calculated the time in Ann Arbor.

Sassenach: Are you still out?

Scot: No.

Sassenach: You’re at home? Still awake?

Scot: Yes, guess why! Because my girlfriend is crazy, and she sleeps in airports like the dead!

I saw the three dots appear, then stop. My heart thumped inside my chest.

Scot: You just scared me, is all. It took all the nerve I had to stop pacing back and forth in the room, and that’s mostly because I woke John up at least three times. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you.

Sassenach: I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you so. I love you. gtg! Plane taking off. ❤️❤️

Scot: I will kill you when you arrive. Even before kissing you.

Sassenach: That will make a fool of you. You’ll miss my kissing you back.

I spent my time during the flight watching movies and sleeping. No one talked to me, apart from the stewardess with the impossibly perfect makeup, who came passing by every ten minutes with coffee or tea, food, more coffee or tea …

I only had an hour layover at O’Hare International Airport and I didn’t even stop to look around. One last flight - and a short one, at that.

One hour later I landed at Detroit Metro, murmuring continuously, “I’m here, oh my God, I’m here!”

My whole body ached from sitting for so long, and walking felt like an exotic exercise. I had been right in that I would be crawling once I got here.

But then, I wasn’t. I rushed off the plane and pushed my way to the tram, jumping into a car just before the doors closed. I followed the flow of the other passengers, feeling like herded cattle, and took the escalator down to the arrivals area.

The moment the escalator brought me low enough to see out across the great open space of baggage claim I saw him standing there, tall and beautiful, waiting for me. I felt a huge smile spread across my face and mentally urged the people in front of me to move faster. Finally, a kind of magic seeped into my muscles, pushing me forward, and the only thing I could do was run to him.

I dropped my bag just before I reached him and a moment later I was jumping into his arms, wrapping my legs around his body, relying on his strength to support my weight.

A crushing hug. And then we were kissing as if we were the only people in the whole terminal. Fierce and consuming, it was a kiss that tried to make up for all the lost ones, all those we had been sending to each other during the last month, vanishing somewhere in the space between us.

But this kiss was real and hot and powerful, filling our hearts with blood again, after more than a month when distance made their beating dull, normal.

“You’re here,” he whispered. “I can’t believe you’re finally here,” he added, echoing my thoughts. “I missed touching ye, Sassenach. My arms always feel so empty without ye in them.”

I looked at him for a long moment, my throat too tight to talk.

“Come,” he said, and bent to pick up my rucksack. “We’ve a bus to catch.”

His hand was warm when he took mine and we walked together towards the shuttle pickup area. It was silly, but even walking next to him felt different. As if I couldn’t discipline my feet and each step would be the first to start a dance.

We sat in the second to last row of the bus, desperate for some privacy. His hand perched on the inside of my thigh, drawing abstract lines that were driving me crazy. I leaned my head onto his shoulder, trying to be decent, but five minutes later I was biting and sucking his neck until I felt him shiver.

“What are the plans for today?” I asked, my voice low.

“Today we’re going back to my dorm and we’re not leaving the room at all.” He shot me a naughty glance, implying that I knew exactly what was going to happen in his room.

“What about John?” I asked, frowning.

“He won’t come back tonight.” Jamie’s owlish wink and the sly grin that followed suggested that he had taken care of everything.

“I’ve turned everything upside-down for him. Trust me to make a bad first impression.”

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. Ye’re doing John a favour,” Jamie said, his lip curling up as he looked out of the window.

“What do you mean?”

“Ye gave John the perfect excuse to stay over at another guy’s place. He’s on the team, too. And I think John was waiting for an opportunity to stay alone with Hector since the first time he saw him. He hasn’t admitted it yet, but I’ve seen the way he looks at him.”

“John is gay?” I asked when he finally finished. “You haven’t said anything!”

“What was I supposed to say, Sassenach? ‘Claire, let me introduce ye to my gay roommate?’”

“Well, no, but… Anyway. And how about Hector? Do you think that he returns John’s feelings?”

“He’ll be a fool if he doesna. John is amazing. It’d be like you giving me your number and I never calling you. Impossible.”

I laughed at that, shaking my head. My curls escaped from my unruly bun, but I didn’t care. Jamie liked them down. “Yeah, right. That being said by someone totally unbiased.”

He looked out at the winter landscape for a moment. Then, his eyes were back on me and he let out a long sigh. “I’m so happy ye’re here, mo chridhe.” He squeezed my hand and bent his head to kiss me.

I couldn’t get enough of his lips.

We got off of the bus and walked quickly towards his dorm, partly because we ached to be finally alone and partly because it was freezing cold outside.

“Why did you have to come here?” I asked, feeling my nose go Rudolf-red. “Hawaii is one of the States, too.”

“Oh, excuse me Sassenach for not getting a scholarship somewhere sunny!” Jamie smiled and pulled his beanie lower, to cover as much skin as possible.

“It would be a nice change to Edinburgh,” I murmured. He just squeezed me closer to his body.

As we walked, I was fascinated by how much of the campus was woven seamlessly into the city itself. Just off the main streets that were filled with restaurants and shops, were smaller homes all in a line, and then suddenly a university building would pop up with a distinctive blue and yellow sign out front.

We didn’t stop walking fast once we pushed through the entrance doors of Jamie’s dorm. He rushed me across the lobby to the elevators, only this time I was almost sure he was moving quickly as not to be stalled by any fellow Wolverines looking for greetings and introductions.

We reached his room unnoticed. Jamie tossed my rucksack into a corner and closed the door softly behind me. I stood still, looking at the room.

His place.

It wasn’t big, and the beds and two desks made it seem even smaller. But it was cozy and clean, and had something of him that made me feel comfortable. I turned to look at Jamie, and for the first time in a month, I felt like I was home.

“I missed you, you bloody Scot.” My whisper was more than a confession. It was the profession of the gift I had been bestowed. The gift of having him in my life. Of having a home.

“I missed ye too.” He smiled in his crooked way, the way I had fallen in love with. “More than ye’d ever imagine.”

And then his lips were on mine, tender and honest. The connection we had longed for, when all we could do was rely on a screen to see each other. Now, we could feel. Our love was tangible, filling the room as our breaths mingled, as our hands intertwined, as our hearts beat together, their own song.

It didn’t take long for our kiss to turn wild.

Jamie shed the outer layers of my clothing, murmuring that I was a wee onion or something. I smiled and helped him, taking off some of his own clothes as well. It was when his hand found its way underneath my sweater that I yelped.

“Cold! Freezing hands!” He looked at me with a pout that wasn’t nearly cute enough to make me relent. “Don’t even think about it!” I said, pushing against his chest with a pointed index finger.

Jamie laughed and swiftly took me off my feet, eliciting yet another yelp from me. He lay me carefully on his bed and took off my sweater.

“No hands,” he promised, raising them in the air as he bent to kiss my neck. His lips moved to my chest, teeth softly biting my nipples, and I slightly regretted keeping his hands off the game. I needed him to touch me.

I squirmed beneath him, making my intentions obvious.

“Oh, no,” Jamie said, sucking my breast in a way I was sure would leave a hickie. “I spent so much time this past month telling ye what I was planning to do to ye when I’d have ye close again. So much time, seeing ye touching yerself and wishing it would be my hand instead of yers. I mean to take my time, mo nighean donn.”

A soft bite and a wicked grin. His eyes burned in mine.

“I mean to lick ye, kiss ye, taunt ye, feel yer smooth skin against mine and leave my marks on ye. I mean to hear yer moans and whimpers fill the room. And then, Sassenach,” he paused for effect, and I ground myself against him. We were both ready. And all the talking during our video calls didn’t go to waste, after all. “Then, I mean to fuck ye and feel ye fucking me until we canna move our limbs anymore.”

Everything went according to the plan.

Chapter 49

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #high school AU #college AU #Jamie x Claire #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic

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