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fallenfurther · 3 years

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Homecoming

This is a story I’ve been planning for over a year and finally feel readyish to post it. This first chapter has been reread about ten times so it’s about time to release it. It introduces the main OC for the story, which will spend the next fifteen chapters exploring Jeff’s return to earth before Josie comes back into play.

Thank you @misssquidtracy for being my cheerleader, this would be no where near as far written if you hadn’t enjoyed it so.

I hope you enjoy chapter one, which is set between Series 2 and 3.

AO3 and FFN

First Impressions

Josie stood outside the hall and took a deep breath. You can do this, she thought, you already have the invite for the invite only event. They might be the big bosses, the people who matter, but you matter too. You just have to network. Don't sell yourself short.

She steeled herself again and swallowed. She really didn't belong here. London was a long way from the compassionate community she grew up with in Scotland. But the idea of getting stuck there and never fulfilling her dreams made her determined, despite the imposter syndrome that plagued her. She looked down at herself and tried to feel comfortable. They were her smartest clothes: a black pencil skirt, blouse with frilly collar and a fitted, thanks to Nancy's excellent seamstress skills, suit jacket. They were all high street brands which wouldn't compare to the designer suits and dresses she'd be mingling with. The only saving grace was the simple diamond chain around her neck. Worth more to Josie than anyone would know, and it gave her the courage she needed. Brushing down her jacket and holding her head high she strode forwards.

She had been so fixated on herself that she almost bumped into a mature couple. Josie stumbled out an apology and let them in first. Flustered, and having lost any semblance of confidence, she entered the room.

****

Another networking event, this time forced on him by Lady Penelope. Scott scouted out the room as he sipped his Scotch. Many eyes were on the two Tracy brothers, all wanting but not yet daring, to approach. The power of his presence in a room of businessmen never ceased to amaze him.

"Found someone you like yet?" Gordon chimed cheerfully from beside him, though Scott knew him well enough to hear the bored undertone. Penelope had invited Gordon and of course he had said yes, his brother absolutely smitten with the lady. Scott shook his head. Events like this maintained Tracy Industries reputation, though they also gave Scott his player reputation. It was an easy place to pick up a girlfriend or let off some steam. Scott surveyed the room again. Within sight there were a few women who appealed to him.

"I don't always leave with someone."

Scott took a sip of his drink.

"Oh, so you're not the ever-successful ladies’ man we thought you were?" Gordon teased.

"Well, I didn't say that." Scott chuckled. "I just don't always want company."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I bet you've had many failed conquests. You just don't want to admit it."

Scott shook his head. "You believe what you want, Gordon."

"Bet you can't get a random woman to sleep with you," Gordon challenged.

Scott bit his lip, trying not to rise to Gordon's bait. Yes, Scott had been planning to find some company for the evening, but a bet? He shouldn't sink to that. Thankfully, the CEO of a small engineering company that had worked with Tracy Industries a year ago strolled over. Scott slipped into CEO mode and exchanged the required pleasantries and confirmed that they were considering working with their company again, before one last handshake.

"So, the Great Scott Tracy is backing down from a challenge?"

Scott rolled his eyes. Gordon was bored and just trying to find a way to entertain himself, but Scott did like a challenge. What's the worst that could happen? With a sigh, he gave in.

"What are the stakes?"

"If you can't seduce the woman I pick, then you give the swimming pool its biannual clean."

"And if I win, you are on deck lounger duty for a month."

“Deal.”

Gordon held out his hand and Scott shook it. He knew this was a bad idea, but it

would liven up the evening a little, and Scott was in the mood for a little fun. Something to help him relax after a tough week. His brother’s eyes scouted the room looking for the ideal candidate. The smirk that appeared on Gordon’s face worried him.

“The next woman to walk through the door.”

Scott raised his eyebrow. It was a gamble, but Scott understood why Gordon had

done it. He nodded and took a sip of his drink. Both men had their eyes on the door. A few people left, but no one entered. When the door finally opened, they both held their breath. An older couple entered, their outfits and demeanour radiating their importance. A quick sideward glance at Gordon confirmed he was holding back a laugh. Scott sighed before looking back toward the couple. Behind them the door opened again and in walked a lone woman.

“That one, the nervous blond.” Gordon announced.

A nod from Scott and he accepted the challenge. His eyes surveyed the woman. She was young, probably about Virgil’s age, and she definitely looked uncomfortable. Her clothing was smart and fitted her well, but he could tell they weren’t the high end fashion that many were wearing that evening. Her hair was loose, brushing down past her shoulders, and there was nothing wrong with her features. She had the kind of appearance most people would look over, including himself, for someone more striking. Scott started to formulate a strike plan. He knew he had to avoid overwhelming her, she probably wouldn’t be expecting to get the attention he was going to give her. He turned back to his brother; whose attention had turned to something else. Scott followed Gordon’s gaze to see Lady Penelope with a tall man, laughing away. The man was obviously flirting with the aristocrat. The clenched jaw and stiffened stance of the aquanaut gave in to jealousy he was feeling. Without a second thought, Gordon strolled over to the gathering and joined in, a fake smile plastered his face. Scott shook his head, before turning back to his target.

****

The glass was chilled in her hand, and Josie took a sip of the non-alcoholic mojito with the hopes it would help steady her nerves. Practicing her breathing techniques briefly, she turned around only to come face to chest with someone. She was flustered again and felt heat rise in her cheeks. Her eyes fell on the man in front of her and her heart jumped.

She froze. Her instincts put her on high alert. This man looked like trouble, and she had just made contact with his deep blue eyes. He smiled at her, dimples deepening in his cheeks when he did so. Mind over body, mind over body, she repeated in her head. It was the intensity he gave off, the way he held himself like he was in control. He hadn't been surprised by her almost bumping into him. He'd know she was there and hadn't moved. She'd seen this before at university, she'd learnt the signs from experience. But still, why did they always have to be attractive? Why did they always gravitate to her? Josie rolled her shoulders back and gave him a brief nod.

“Excuse me.” Josie smiled politely, ducking as gracefully as she could past him.

“I’ve not seen you here before.”

Josie paused. His deep voice demanded her attention. She was here to network, at least she could get him over and done with. She could keep her cool, watch out for his game. Josie was wiser now. She turned around and held out her hand.

“Josie McNelly, engineer for Taybrooke Aeronautics, Satellite division.”

He shook her hand firmly. The man looked familiar, though she couldn't place where from.

“Scott Tracy, CEO of Tracy Industries.”

That explained the familiarity. She smile grew as she thought of her brother’s prized

poster of Jeff Tracy which had hung above his bed. Josie could see the resemblance

to the astronaut. Same eyes for certain. She'd been shocked at the sudden loss of the great Jeff Tracy. Not that her brother had ever met him, but the astronaut had been such a big part of their childhood. Especially the fights over who was greater, her admiration for Neil Armstrong was still just as strong. The memories threw her, and suddenly she had no idea what to say next. How do you network again? What do you talk about with the CEO of Tracy Industries, one of the best engineering companies in the world? Facts about the company filled Josie's head and thankfully one stood out.

"Tracy Industries doesn't have a UK branch, so may I ask what brings you to London?"

Josie took a deep breath as the man paused; glad she could make an impression. She congratulated herself while remembering what she was here to do. She'd failed to get a job at Tracy Industries on multiple occasions, maybe this could be a way in. She almost laughed at herself. The CEO was unlikely to care for someone as low down the pecking order as she. Part of her wanted to try, just in case. If people less qualified could get experience and jobs over her by knowing the right people, maybe she could too. That was why she was here, to get the contacts so she could play their game.

"You've done your research. Tracy Industries works with some UK based companies that are represented here tonight, and the event is being hosted by a good friend of mine. I've not heard of Taybrooke Aeronautics before, care to give me some insight?"

His strikingly blue eyes gazed down at her with sincerity. It threw Josie to see it in someone she suspected of having ulterior motives, however she'd tried to keep her cool. Staying wary, she engaged with him.

"Taybrooke Aeronautics is a small Scottish company. It started with plane design and manufacturing then branched out into satellites and astronautical technology. It's well known for its niche and unique satellite designs. It's entirely based in Scotland and has various sites throughout the country."

"Have they done anything I might have heard of?"

"Have you heard of Global One?"

"The GDF's space station."

"Yes, the thrusters that keep it in orbit are a product of Taybrooke Aeronautics. They are actually my design."

"Your design? Aren't they normally developed by a team of engineers."

The surprise on Mr Tracy's face was priceless. It wasn't the first time people were shocked by what Josie could do, and she was planning to make sure it wasn't the last. If she wanted to become a big name rocket designer, she was going to have to blow a few minds.

"The initial design was mine, obviously other engineers had input over materials and the like, but the actual design hasn't changed much. Taybrooke owns the patent, but my name is on it, so you can check it if you don't believe me. They aren't the only thing I've designed that's currently on orbit. Two of my resistojet rockets were used in some private satellites that were launched late last year."

Josie refused to hide her pride. Her family was proud of her achievements even if they didn't understand them. It was why she was here, to continue making them proud of her. She and her brother had had a dream and she was going to fulfil it if she could.

"That's impressive. Have you considered applying for a role in the Tracy Industries aeronautical department? I'm sure we are always in need of people with your kind of skills."

Josie took a deep breath. She wanted to believe Mr Tracy. Every engineer wanted a job at Tracy Industries, it was considered one of the industry leads and had fantastic employee benefits. The company was known worldwide for taking care of its workforce, but she had never made the cut. Neither did she believe this man would remember her beyond today. It was time to end this conversation and see if anyone here might actually be interested in hiring an engineer. Josie met his gaze and prepared to say her piece.

"I have applied for various aeronautical and astronautical roles at Tracy Industries since graduating. I've been called to interview twice, one at the European branch in Germany and another at the Japanese branch. Both times I was turned away for lack of experience. The Japanese branch didn't believe I would fit in with the company's culture and the European job was given to the son of one of the employees. It appears that I’m currently not what Tracy Industries is seeking. It’s been interesting talking with you Mr Tracy, but I have just spotted someone that I would really like to speak with, so if you’d kindly excuse me. Have a pleasant rest of the evening.”

Josie turned and strode away from Mr Tracy. She headed into the crowd, not looking back, keeping her eyes open for the people she'd flagged on the short guest list she had managed to obtain. There were representatives here that might help get her into the industry. Not that she wouldn't stop applying to Tracy Industries jobs, a girl could dream, but she was realistic. Josie knew she had to work her way up and she needed to make the right contacts.

****

Scott watched Josie walk away. She weaved into the crowd and disappeared from his sight. Gordon had lucked out and this bet was going to be harder than he thought. Miss McNelly may be nervous, but there was something beneath her words and her guard was up. He would have to change his approach, and unfortunately, he couldn't use Tracy Industries as bait. Josie wanted a job and she seemed to believe Tracy Industries didn't want her. Even if he could promise her a job, he was sure she wouldn't believe him. Scott was so used to women warming to him, swooning over his smile, and in many cases excited by the prospect of spending the evening with someone from International Rescue. Josie hadn't even mentioned it or made an indication that she knew he was part of the elusive organisation. Scott headed to the bar and ordered another scotch. He lent against the polished wood, swirling the drink in thought. He had to get her to lower her guard, to open up. His eyes hit the crowd and he sighed. Scott knew he was going to have to take the plunge.

Almost an hour later and Scott hadn't been able to get close to Miss McNelly. He'd glimpsed her but being in the crowd meant he had to be polite to the other attendees, especially those who the company did business with. Duty called without the usual klaxon that echoed through the villa. Although Scott did want to be rescued from the current conversation; fisheries in the Atlantic were more Gordon's realm. He inspected the room, going from head to head in search of Miss McNelly. He easily spotted Gordon, standing next to Lady Penelope who was conversing with a young businessman. At least his brother wasn't having much luck either. Continuing, he spotted Mr Sandip with whom he'd had a pleasant conversation with at a previous gala. Excusing himself, Scott headed over to the man, but as he neared, Scott got a glimpse of whom he was talking to. Josie's hands were moving as she described something, and as he stepped up to the pair, he could hear the enthusiasm in her voice. There was a sparkle in her grey eyes that hadn't been there previously.

"Mr Tracy! How good to see you again? How have you been?"

Mitchell Sandip had spotted him out of the corner of his eye and had turned to offer him a hand, which Scott took with a smile.

"I'm very well, thank you, though I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Yes, well, the representative from the engineering department that was meant to attend became unwell. With so few people free to come, I drew the short straw. Though, seeing you has greatly improved my night."

Scott laughed at the accountant, his friendly demeanour had charmed Scott last time they had met.

"Now, Mr Tracy, have you met Miss McNelly? She has quite the head for numbers. Unfortunately, she's not after an accounting job otherwise I'd snap her up before anyone else could!"

Scott turned to the woman in question, eyebrow raised. Head for numbers, well she was an engineer. He watched her straight up and nod politely at him.

"I'm rather good with calculations.”

Mitchell's hand landed on Scott's arm, drawing his attention away from Miss McNelly. The shorter man's hazel eyes peered up at him full of excitement.

"She's being incredibly modest, Mr Tracy. I was certain someone was pilfering funds, and after a week I managed to work out who and how, but I hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet. I’ve just finished collecting all the evidence and sent it to HR. Well, I was just discussing yearly finances with Mr Yang over there, and I was just throwing a lot of numbers about, as you do, trying to show off, when Miss McNelly pipes up saying my calculations are wrong. I told her they weren't, and she said they had to be unless someone was swindling money. I was shocked that she could work it out like that, then she rattled off her calculations faster than anything. Like I said, I hadn’t told anyone and Miss McNelly here was able to work it out in minutes. Obviously, I had to confirm this wasn’t just a one off, so Mr Yang and I rattled a few numbers off, and Josie performed the calculations there and then. All in her head and fast as can be. It was incredible!"

Scott turned with Mitchell back to Miss McNelly. There was a proud smile on her face, even if he could see that she was still nervous. Her fingers were playing gently with the hem of her jacket.

"I've always been fast with numbers."

"Are you certain you don't want to be an accountant?"

Miss McNelly laughed, a blush coming to her cheeks.

"As I told the Professor during my interview at Cambridge, when he asked why I was pursuing a career in engineering over mathematics; for me mathematics is easy. I don't want to be bored. I want to be challenged."

A cheeky grin graced Josie's lips, obviously warming to Mitchell's easy charm. It was hard not to smile around Mitchell, the man had a unique manner that just set people at ease.

"How about a drink then?"

“Fantastic idea, Mr Tracy. I’m sure Miss McNelly is in need of one too.”

Scott beckoned over a waiter, who swiftly moved around the other attendees to reach them.

"I'll have a sherry, if you don't mind."

"I'll have a Scotch please. What would you like, Miss McNelly, another mojito?"

Josie hesitated a moment and seemed to become uneasy, her fingers returning to her hem.

"Another mojito would be lovely, thank you."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, thank you."

Scott dismissed the waiter, still intrigued by Miss McNelly. There was so much to uncover, and although he was starting to feel that he'd be cleaning the pool next week, he hadn't given up. Mitchell was just the person he needed to help break down those walls of hers.

"So, a Cambridge graduate then? I've a friend who did engineering at Cambridge university."

"Yes, it's a fantastic institution. It took me a year to find my feet, but I thrived once I did. Did you visit your friend while he was there?"

Scott chuckled slightly at the thought of visiting Brains at university. His father hadn't met the man yet and he would have been a kid himself.

"No, I never got the chance."

"That's a shame. It's like a world of its own. All the best equipment within old buildings and traditions which go back centuries. Although it was fun at the start, with all the formal dinners and dressing up in your gown, it does get a little mundane after the umpteenth time. Sure, it's a three course meal with wine from some excellent chefs, but you can't eat that rich food every day and it's expensive. I could keep myself fed and watered for a week for the price of two evening meals!"

"I must admit, I didn't make the best decisions when it came to food during my first years in the Air Force."

Scott thought back to the instant noodles and takeaways he'd indulged in on the weekends. The freedom that came with not having to eat Grandma's home cooking had been liberating. Though he did eventually learn to cook a few simple dishes during his time in the Air Force.

"Most of us make bad choices at university. It comes with being young and free."

There was a sadness in her tone and her face dimmed slightly. What mistakes had this woman made that she regretted? Did it have something to do with the guard she hid behind? She put on a forced smile, and he knew he had to keep her engaged. Unfortunately, Lady Penelope and Gordon decided to make their entrance to the group.

"Oh! Why hello Lady Penelope, and you are…."

Mitchell held out his hand to Gordon, who shook it with his usual amount of enthusiasm. Out of the corner of his eye, Scott caught the movement of Miss McNelly's hand. She was once again fiddling with her jacket.

"Gordon Tracy."

"Ahhh, Mr Tracy's brother. I see the resemblance now."

Scott hid his laugh behind a grin, though he caught Miss McNelly’s eyes darting between him and Gordon. He wondered if she was picking up on the same resemblance. Scott watched as Lady Penelope, and then Gordon, introduced themselves. The drinks they had ordered arrived, and Scott noted the way Miss McNelly took a tentative sip of the drink. The small talk started, though Scott caught the small sips she took frequently, as a way to keep herself busy. She was definitely out of her element, which might explain why her guard was up. He listened in, gaining snippets of information about the woman. Gordon was keen to keep her chatting, probably as a way of distracting her from him, thus improving the chances Scott was going to lose the bet. After a while, Miss McNelly politely excused herself. Scott watched as she headed in the direction of the bathrooms, he hoped that meant she’d be back.

“Miss McNelly is quite the interesting character, don’t you think Scott?”

Scott could see the small grin on his brother's face and the gleam in his eye that revealed to Scott the hidden meaning. Gordon thought the bet was his and he’d gotten out of his chore. Another business associate of Tracy Industries joined their group and stole Scott’s attention. Miss McNelly never returned.

****

Finally getting away from yet another business proposal, Scott headed to the bar where Gordon was perched. He lent against it and turned to survey the room with his brother.

"No success then?"

"As much as you've had with Lady Penelope."

Scott's eyes fell on Miss McNelly. She was chatting with Mitchell again. Maybe he still had a chance. Turning to the bartender he ordered a Scotch and mojito. Gordon raised his eyebrow at the order.

"One last chance. I'm not going to give in that easily."

Scott grabbed the drinks and headed toward Miss McNelly. She'd just shaken hands with Mitchell and the man had turned to chase down someone on the other side of the room. He took a breath and turned on the charm.

***

Josie watched Mr Sandip hurry after someone and smiled to herself. He'd promised to pass on her details to recruitment. She was feeling beat but was pretty pleased with her efforts. She'd sold her company and thrown out a few business cards. Hopefully she'd made her mark. The whole event hadn't been as bad as she'd expected, though that one alcoholic drink had eased her nerves a little. She was happy to have been able to keep it to one. Glancing at her watch, she confirmed it was late and she still had some travelling to do. It was time for her to leave.

"Miss McNelly, care to have a drink with me?"

Dread filled her as the familiar voice spoke from behind. Turning she immediately noticed Mr Tracy was standing between her and the exit. She took a deep breath. In the man's hands were two drinks: an amber spirit and a mojito. Her breath caught in her throat, the situation bringing her back to a night she wanted to forget.

"You got me a drink?"

She stared at the glass. She suspected it had alcohol in it, having ordered one in front of him, but what else did it contain? She couldn't confirm it wasn't spiked. Would he do that sort of thing? Save people one day, drug them the next? Rich people never made sense to her though. They defied logic.

"I thought we could chat a little more."

He held out the mojito, forcing Josie to make a choice. Did she trust the man? She looked up into his face. He had a warm smile that met his eyes and she wanted to trust him. She wanted so much to believe he was a good guy. But her fear was there, deep inside as it always was, and she couldn't. She smiled at him as she reached out her right hand and plucked the glass of what she hoped was scotch, from his grip. Josie kept her eyes locked on his as she raised the glass to her lips. The amber liquid was not one she'd tried before, probably a vintage out of her price range. She was thankful it wasn't peaty; she hates those. His mouth dropped in shock as he looked at the cocktail in his hand. Josie couldn’t help the smile as she fought not to laugh. She let the liquid roll over her tongue and down her throat.

"I'm Scottish and it's the end of the night. You never asked me what I wanted."

She locked eyes with him as the shock faded from his face. Mr Tracy glanced down at the cocktail briefly, indecision in his eyes. Josie was still on edge, ready to step back if she had to. She decided to test the water.

"Take a sip. The mojitos here are the best."

Josie challenged him. If he refused to drink it then it must be spiked. If it wasn't, there was no reason not to take a sip. His hand stayed where it was.

"I'd rather the scotch."

"This scotch is mine now, and you don't want to waste that drink now, do you?"

****

Miss McNelly's face was serious. Scott felt slightly uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. It was a challenge. For some reason, she wanted him to drink the mojito. He hadn’t expected her to take his drink and she had sipped it without grimacing. Never before had he met someone who acted as she did. Most people wanted to know more about him, most pestered about International Rescue, but not Miss McNelly. It felt like she had never warmed to him, even if she had seemed better and more relaxed during their conversation with Mitchell. Scott didn't want to drink the mojito; it was his most despised cocktail. What was this woman's game?

"No, thank you."

"Fine."

Scott was shocked again when Miss McNelly took the cocktail from him. What happened next, happened both at lightning speed and in slow motion. There was nothing Scott could do to stop it.

"Thank you for the drink, but I don't appreciate the attention you've given me. I tried to make it clear I wasn't interested."

The cocktail glass was thrust in his direction, its contents flying out at him. Ice and mint hit his face as the sticky fluid started to soak into his shirt. As if that wasn't enough Miss McNelly stood on her toes, stretched up and poured the scotch into his hair. It trickled down his neck.

“I’m not interested.”

Miss McNelly stalked past him. Scott didn't know how to react. One part of him wanted to storm after her and demand an explanation, though that would probably make things worse. This is what he gets for accepting a silly bet. He turned on his heel and headed towards the exit. Gordon was sitting at the bar and the smirk on his face became laugher as Scott approached. His brother was struggling to stay in his stool.

"I'm calling it a night."

"Sure Scott….I look forward...to watching you...clean the pool." Gordon gasped between spasms of laughter.

****

Josie bolted. She started running once she had heard the door shut. She didn't stop, not looking back and running as fast as she could to the nearest light rail station. Fear was a great motivator, and she didn't slow until she was on the platform where she gasped for breath. Josie had never been a runner. She hated it. Her eyes never left the entrance until she was on the train. Only then could she start to relax. Once in the carriage the tears started to fall. She’d overreacted. She'd made a scene. Her body shook. How stupid could she be? Slipping her phone out of her jacket she swiped up her call history and tapped the first person on the list.

****

Josie lay back on the bench. It was around the corner from the hostel she’d booked for the night. The cheapest way to stay in London was to share a bunk bed with a stranger. There was no way she could have a private conversation in a room of sleeping people, and this random street bench was the easiest option. If there was ever someone she needed right now, it was her best friend Graham. His thick Scottish accent rang out from her phone.

“Seriously Josie, ye need to stop seeing every man as a potential threat. Cannae a man just be polite?”

“I don’t suspect all men, just the ones that make me feel uncomfortable.”

“Ye said this guy was Scott Tracy, right?”

“Yes.”

“Scott Tracy, the Commander of International Rescue and pilot of Thunderbird One?”

“Maybe, I can’t remember which one flies which.”

“Hold on, ye can list every damned fact available about the Thunderbirds, but ye cannae tell me who pilots them?”

“You sound like my brother! Why should I care who flies the Thunderbird? I want to know how they fly!”

Graham rolled his eyes, and Josie couldn’t help but laugh at him. She twisted onto her front, her arm aching from holding her phone in the air.

“Well, I’ve looked him up and I think ye would have been safe to drink that mojito. Although I’ll admit that he probably was hitting on ye. According to the gossip blogs he has picked up the odd girlfriend from events like that. Not that they last long, with him spending most of his time savin' people. If ye hadn’t been so aggressive ye could be heading back to Scotland with a great story! Imagine being able to say ye slept with the pilot of Thunderbird One!”

“A. I prefer Thunderbird Three. B. I’d rather spend the night with Thunderbird One herself. C. If I’d known, I would have given him your number.”

Josie stuck her tongue out, only to watch Graham contort his face in response. They both ended up in a fit of giggles.

“At least ye still have a good story for the next campfire. Many girls have slept with Mr Thunderbird One, but I doubt many can claim they threw a drink in his face.”

A groan left Josie as she placed her forehead against the wood, breathing in its damp musk. She was never going to forget this and once it’d been passed round the town, it would definitely make its way to work. They would never let her go to another event again.

“I’m an idiot. The whole night was pointless. No one is going to want to hire me now.”

“Definitely an idiot. They only let those into private schools.”

Josie scowled at her friend, though she was fighting a smile. It was an old joke, one that Graham used when she needed to see perspective. It reminded both of them how far they had come. Even if Josie was still stuck in Scotland. She yawned at the same time as the fifteen-minute warning was announced on Graham’s end.

“Looks like we’re both in bunks tonight.”

“Righty-ho. G'night Josie.”

"G’night Grey.”

Josie was just about to end the call when Graham decided to get the last word in.

“And Jo, FYI Gordon Tracy pilots Thunderbird Four.”

Josie glared at him. The last thing she heard was Graham’s laughter as the screen went black. Cradling her phone in her hand, she stared at it, before turning her head to the sky. She couldn't see the stars that she knew were there. Josie may not have her dream job, yet, but Graham always reminded her of how lucky she was.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #original character #Gordon Tracy #Lady Penelope #gala #bet #homecoming #first impressions #there has to be a scottish character

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smashboxgirl26 · 3 years

Text

vengeance / chapter 12: catching

chapter 11: manipulating | chapter 13: a new face

vengeance masterlist

Midoriya’s eyes lit up in an unexpected and almost unnatural way when he saw the man in dark clothing trying to act inconspicuous behind you. Even if he’d been doing it for a while, it was easy to tell that he wasn’t really good at his job since it’d been so easy for Midoriya to spot him in the crowd like that.

He pulled his cap down tighter, tucking his noteworthy hair under it to make sure it couldn’t be spotted by you or Ito. His pace quickened and he pushed his way through the crowds towards the “group” of people his eyes were locked on.

Ito hadn’t seemed to notice him yet, and he wanted it to stay that way so it could be done without you knowing that Ito had been there in the first place. You already looked scared enough, poor thing - you would probably pass out on the spot if you found out that your suspicions were actually correct.

No, he couldn’t put you in harm's way like that. Who knows what you’d do (to yourself or anyone else) if you figured it out.

Right now, it didn’t seem like Ito was going to put you in harm’s way. He just seemed to be following behind you and Camie (who should’ve noticed something like this by now, being a hero and all) and observing your actions as you both walked around the mall together. If anything happened, Midoriya knew that you would be okay. You were in public for one, and you had Camie and other legal enforcements around you.

He was basically the last line of defense.

However, he was the only one who was aware of Ito’s presence behind you. And that meant he should be trying to separate Ito from your group and single him out.

There was still anger residing in him from the day before, hot and bubbling in his chest as he followed behind silently. He didn’t know how badly he’d lose himself if he was able to get his hands on Ito right then and there.

It was something he’d been craving since he first found out what Ito was doing. He’d held himself back the day before, thinking he would instantly scare Ito away and out of the police’s clutches. But it looked like he hadn’t hit him hard enough, since Ito ran away from the scene anyway. It would’ve been better for the police to find him passed out in his apartment with questions as to how he got there rather than scrambling to find him in the first place.

Now there he was, slipping in and out of the crowd in attempts to follow you around a mall.

It was almost pathetic how desperate he was. He definitely thought he had you that night when Izuku showed up - and now he was grasping at the remaining straws to try and get you in his clutches.

Izuku was drawn out of his inner dialogue when his eyes caught you and Camie going separate ways.

That was not good.

Ito had been scared off enough because Camie was right there beside you. And now she was leaving you to walk on your own? What kind of hero was she?

He immediately noticed the quick steps that Ito took as he began inching closer towards you from the behind.

Camie was now heading in the opposite direction, and it seemed like your fears had been released enough that you weren’t constantly looking around you anymore.

Midoriya broke out into a short spring to cover the distance he’d left between himself and Ito, now cursing at himself for being so far away. He hadn’t wanted to scare you or Ito away accidentally and caused a whole panic at the mall, but he’d underestimated how desperate Ito actually was.

Ito was now directly behind you, practically looming over your shoulder and breathing in your ear as he began to attempt to make his move. Thankfully Midoriya’s legs were fast enough - that he was able to carry himself to where you and Ito were walking almost instantaneously.

He nudged himself into Ito’s shoulder, his head down and his brows furrowed as he did so, making sure that Ito stumbled over to the side and away from where you were. Ito crashed onto his knees, due to the fact that his legs crossed over each other when nudged, and huffed loudly in annoyance at the interference.

He glared up to where Midoriya was standing - but the look in his eyes diminished when Midoriya pulled his mask down.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Izuku apologized, holding out one of his hands towards the man. “Let me help you up.”

Ito took one look at his hand, and another at Izuku’s face before scrambling up and running in the opposite direction that you were walking in. Izuku inwardly cursed as he readjusted the mask and took off after him.

The two weaved quickly in between the crowds of people - with Ito constantly looking over his shoulder to see if he’d lost Midoriya yet. Unfortunately for him, Midoriya was hot on his tail, his eyes never leaving the sight of Ito’s head as he gained on him.

The exit of the mall was coming into view, and Midoriya pushed himself to run faster. He needed to try and get him in the mall’s vicinity or he wouldn’t be able to catch him easily. Here, there were other people and obstacles that he had to avoid, but the parking lot was mostly open space that made it easy to run faster and away from him.

Finally, Midoriya’s fingers were pretty much able to grasp the back of the hoodie that Ito was wearing to hide himself, and he quickly wrapped his fingers around the fabric and pulled as he skidded to a stop. But Ito didn’t.

He quickly unzipped the hoodie leaving it in Midoriya’s fingers, and lunged forward once again towards the exit. Midoriya quickly caught on to the charade and pumped his feet to move faster once Ito was almost touching the exit door handles.

Midoriya launched himself forward once again to grab at Ito’s arm, shoulder, anything - but Ito was already running into the parking lot and jumping into one of the cars.

Midoriya slammed the door open and chased after him but it was too late. Multiple cars were pulling out now and he couldn’t see which one Ito was using as his getaway car - most of their tinted windows being too dark to allow others to see what was inside.

Midoriya paused, his lungs and the rest of his body aching as he skidded to a stop on the sidewalk and watched as all the cars filed out silently. His chest was rising up and down rapidly with his fists clenched at his sides and his face twisted into a scowl.

He looked down at the hoodie that was still in his grasp, and glared at it before throwing it harshly to the ground.

He was right there.

Why wasn’t he able to get Ito in time?

Dammit.

Midoriya’s palms covered his head as he breathed out to the ground in anger and annoyance. His body was shaking, and his eye twitched as he berated himself, once again, for letting Ito get away.

But he finally calmed himself after staring at the hoodie that was still laying on the ground. He could actually use the little easter egg to his advantage, now that he was thinking about it.

After all, Ito had to have left some piece of DNA on it.

He gingerly picked it up and stuffed part of it into one of his pockets, staring back at the entrance of the mall.

At least now he’d scared Ito off enough that he wouldn’t try and bother you for a while. And that would give him enough time to try and use the old hoodie against him - just as Ito had tried to use it against himself.

…

Katsuki thought that he’d handled himself pretty well that morning, considering that he’d had a panic attack the day before when he found out what was happening.

The emotions he was feeling weren’t all that different from the ones you had - anxiety, exhaustion, anger. However it seemed that his emotions were much more amplified in their magnitude than yours were.

Your emotions were completely understandable. You didn’t know how to handle this situation. You weren’t trained to deal with it. But he was.

Was that why he was so much angrier than you were?

No, it was because it was his job to keep you safe from situations like these and he was failing. He was supposed to be trained to deal with stuff like this in the first place and he was failing - letting his emotions beat him easily.

Heck, if he’d been doing a proper job as your boyfriend, this shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

That morning, he knew he couldn’t show you what he was actually feeling, since it would cause you to break down even further. He couldn’t dump his insecurities onto you like that, it wouldn’t help the situation whatsoever. He could tell that you were already struggling with wrapping the idea around your head, and he didn’t want to add any more stress to that.

So he pushed his feelings down. He had to be your rock, and keep you tethered to the ground. Otherwise, you would’ve floated off into your mind and all the harm that it could’ve caused.

It didn’t mean that he wasn’t angry, though.

Yesterday’s reaction had been a mix of shock and fear, but now that he had a better understanding of the situation, all those mixed emotions were replaced with anger. He was almost thankful when you’d told him that Camie had invited you out for the day, knowing that he couldn’t keep the anger inside him from bursting out any longer.

The problem was, he couldn’t even direct it to helping out with the investigation. Kirishima had called earlier that morning and said that the agency Monoma was working at decided that Bakugou shouldn’t be on the investigation, because of the ties that he had to Y/N. Because, for some reason, they believed that his bias would hinder the investigation.

Now he was fuming as he stomped his way to the agency to call the director of the Heroes Commission and give him a piece of his mind to let him join that investigation. If he refused to comply, he and his stupid LOV mission could go to hell.

But he was greeted by a new site when walking into the agency.There were cops everywhere, as well as other heroes that didn’t work there.

Bakugou’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, walking into the familiar space slowly as he observed the dozens of extra people around him, looking for anyone familiar.

Monoma was there, but he was not someone he wanted to talk to.

He finally spotted Kirishima on the side of the crowd, leaning against the wall and talking to Mina and Denki. They were all closed off from the rest of the other heroes, staying in their little group with worried looks on their faces and whispering to each other as they glanced around.

Bakugou quickly made his way over to them and raised eyebrows in question. They understood, and all four of them made their way to the elevator so they could talk in private on the 25th floor - without all the other people breathing down their necks.

“What was all that about?” Bakugou asked once the doors of the elevator opened. He didn’t bother walking into his office and set his bag down, just plopping it down on a nearby desk before glancing back at the others.

“We don’t really know,” Mina replied with a nervous look on her face. “Monoma just said that it was part of Y/N’s investigation, so he couldn’t tell us yet till he was sure of something.”

“This is part of the investigation?” Bakugou asked with a surprised look.

“Yeah,” Kirishima nodded. “It has something to do with the Ito guy but I’m not sure what.”

“That’s exactly correct, knockoff Tetsutetsu!”

Everyone turned their heads to the direction of the elevator, where Monoma was now standing with a large grin on his face.

“If anything, Tetsutetsu is Kirishima’s knockoff,” Denki rolled his eyes.

Monoma’s face twisted into a grimace at Denki’s words before taking a step closer towards the other three. He followed in Denki’s suit, rolling his eyes before picking at his nails and continuing.

“The reason we’re here is because Ito was working here, and none of you noticed.”

Everyone’s face twisted into shock and they all stared at Monoma in complete silence.

“There’s no way that’s possible!” Bakugou was the first to speak. “I would’ve fucking known that one of our employees was stalking my girlfriend.”

“Well there was, and you didn’t know,” Monoma replied. “And as much as I’d like to blame you all for it, I don’t think it was your fault. He applied here with a fake name and background, you wouldn’t have known unless you dived deep into his history. He’s got two restraining orders from two other women under the same grounds - stalking. One of them was actually his ex wife.”

“How’d you even know that he was working here in the first place then?” Bakugou quipped back. He could barely even believe what was coming out of Monoma’s mouth. Ito had been right under his nose the whole time, and he hadn’t even noticed.

“We only found out because the police were going through all the public CCTV footage they could find of him. They saw him entering your building with a keycard and assumed that he’d somehow gotten a job here. He was using the name Chikao Suzuki.”

“Wait, that was one of the guys who worked in filing downstairs,” Kaminari spoke up. “I talked to him a few times and he seemed normal.”

Bakugou couldn’t even speak anymore on the issue. He was going to be sick.

“Monoma, I understand that Bakugou can’t work on the investigation because he’s dating Y/N. But I should be able to work on it with you, right? Especially now that our agency is involved in some way. Not to mention that we’ll provide more resources since your agency’s a little smaller,” Kirishima pitched.

He quickly looked at Bakugou and sent him a short but firm nod. He was going to help obtain the details that bakugou wasn’t technically allowed to get at the moment.

Monoma let out a defeated sigh, “Fine. The agencies can officially team up. Come downstairs and I’ll show you the stuff we have so far. Only Bakugou isn’t allowed to see them, got it?”

Kirishima, Mina, and Denki nodded in agreement while Bakugou rolled his eyes. He knew Monoma was rubbing the fact that he couldn’t participate in his face - regardless of the severity of the situation.

The four of them walked into the elevator together, and Kirishima gave Bakugou one last glance before the door closed and they were out of sight.

What was he supposed to do now?

He couldn’t even keep you safe under his roof. You were with him almost every day, and you weren’t protected in all that time.

And when his mind brought this fact up to light, he couldn’t help but wander back to the fact that the two of you didn’t even live together. He couldn’t protect you at work, or at home. Because even though his presence around you was constant, and that the two of you practically lived at each other’s houses anyways, you were still unsafe.

` He couldn’t keep letting you live like this, and he couldn’t keep living with the guilt that was piling onto him.

He needed to convince you to move in with him, and fast.

At least his apartment building had more security, and he would feel the teensiest better about his failures if he was able to do this one single thing.

But now that that was decided, what else could he do?

He couldn’t even go downstairs and ease his frustrations and anxiety by working on the case with the others. If he called the Hero Commissions director to let him on the investigation, he already knew that Monoma would make his life a living hell for interfering in his work. At least right now, Kirishima and the others would be able to work with no other large interferences from Monoma’s side.

So what else was left for him to do but throw himself into the League of Villains problem that the Heroes Commission was forcing him into?

──────────────

haven't updated this one in a hot minute not proofread loll

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bobfloydsbabe · 3 years

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OC Bingo ask time :::

When did the spark of inspiration hit you for your OC's (Willa or Augusta or both)? When did the moment of clarity strike where you had the 'alright we're doing this' moment? Was it a moment while watching it the first time, thinking back on the source material, a song that hit just right?

And if that's not how it works for you, how did your OC's come to life?

((Don't feel obligated to answer if you don't like the question - or you can answer a completely different question on something you want to gush about and pretend I asked that instead 😂))

Hey friend! I promised the answer this ages ago, but Uni has been kicking my butt, so my apologies for the late reply. Get ready to read a novel 'cause your girl's got some shit to say.

Willa

How Willa came to exist is actually a pretty good story. Quite a few years ago, now there was an ask game going around where someone would send a face claim, and you had to make an OC on the spot. Someone sent me Teresa Palmer, and Willa was born. Here's the original post. I had just started watching Chicago Med from the beginning, and Jay had just been in an episode, so it seemed like the right fandom and pairing. I was invested in Willa right away.

My lovely friend, Jess, sent me a dm begging me to tell her all about Willa. She's the only one I knew at the time who watched the One Chicago shows, so I was happy to oblige. I started writing her fic, decided on a name for it almost immediately (which never happens), and she was added to my OC page around that time, too. I made graphics, gifsets, teased her fic, and then abandoned her in true ADHD fashion. I followed the dopamine to my next hyperfixation and sort of forgot about her.

The 'alright, we're doing this' moment came about a month ago when I started rewatching old episodes of Chicago PD. I couldn't stop thinking about Willa, so I looked through the roughly three chapters I'd written of ELB before I jumped ship and decided then that I would post about her and her fic. A month later, here we are, and four chapters of Every Last Breath are available to read on multiple sites. Willa is the reason I became active in the OC community again.

Augusta

Augusta sprung to life from my obsession with Bridgerton and constantly listening to champagne problems by Taylor Swift. The song contains the lyric: "What a shame she's fucked in the head." That hit me like a ton of bricks, and not just personally. I imagined someone who went into self-imposed exile overseas to escape other people's judgment because of mental illness. I imagined a childhood friend of Kate's who was introduced to Benedict at hers and Anthony's engagement party. The reason they hadn't met before was that she'd been overseas for a while. My original idea and this fanfic idea merged, and that's how Augusta Hayes and her story, Cracks of Light, which is a nod to another Taylor Swift song, came to be. This is all a long-winded way of saying she came to be because I'm a Swiftie and have a soft spot for Benedict.

The clarity moment came when I didn't stop thinking about her for five months and decided to just post the first chapter of CoL. I'm still working on chapter two, but imagine I'll have lots of inspiration once season 2 drops in a couple of weeks. I'm always a slut for more Benedict.

#residentdormouse #answered #oc creator bingo #oc creator bingo 2022 #willa asks #augusta asks #oc: augusta hayes #oc: willa atticus #mail

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summonerscenarios · 4 years

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What if some major property damage happened during the night, and the evidence suggests that the Mc did it. The teachers punish them, despite the Mc going on about how they didn't do it. How would the teachers react to all this going on, and after a week after said punishments were finished, it's revealed that the Mc was in fact, actually innocent. Hope this was an ok ask

Well I do believe it’s been a hot second since the MC has suffered so let’s change that lmao. Honestly this scenario had me SO TORN writing it up because I legit couldn’t see any good way for this turning out okay - like how do you come back from this??? Just. So many emotions. So many.

-----

The whole thing was a mess - within the course of a single night there’s been significant damage to school property, to the point where the authorities had to be called in in case there was another attack coming. Rumors flood the school like wildfire, and every eye is trained onto the damaged site with either concern or a desperation for answers, nothing but questions on everyone’s lips for the foreseeable future. What happened? Who was responsible? Is it going to happen again? If so, when? By the time that the school is updated on the situation they’re notified that the culprit is clearly one of the students - there’s evidence left behind which suggests that someone was on the property right around the time the damage was done, in that exact same spot not even a few hours before it was discovered.

That student? Is you.

Mononobe, technically being labelled as your legal guardian, is the first to be approached with the issue, and he almost doesn’t believe it. Yes, you may be jokingly referred to as a ‘problem child’ for the trouble that you seem to attract, but going out of your way to destroy something for no discernible reason? He’s insistent that they lay out all the evidence gathered, to look over it, and look over it again till there’s another explanation for the damage. But everything investigators have managed to dig up points right back at you being responsible, and once that sinks in . He takes the situation seriously, and offers to be the one to call you out from class and bring you in; he’s hoping that seeing a familiar face will put you more at ease rather than being dragged out by strangers. But the entire walk to your classroom feels heavy - he knows that he’s bringing you in for a confession, and a part of him is still hoping that you aren’t responsible even as he knocks on the door and slides it open.

He tries to offer a reassuring smile as he asks to see you for a moment, but Ms. Ziz, who’s responsible for your lessons today, realizes that something isn’t right when she turns to greet him. Her expression flashes to concern for a brief moment, but she replaces it with a reassuring smile before turning back to the class and giving you the go-ahead to leave with Mr. Mononobe. You’re confused, but don’t seem to realize anything’s wrong as you join him out in the hallway, following in step as he motions for you to follow. The walk there is spent with him making small talk, asking you about how you’re settling in with new classes and inquiring how your friends are doing - the whole time you’re relaxed and smiling, even chuckling as you joke about the latest spat between Kengo and Shiro.

But then he stops at a door, and without thinking you open it, only to find what could only be described as a small jury waiting inside. It’s a mix between the officers responsible for the investigation and teachers not currently teaching classes - with some of the notable people being Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn. Their expressions are grim but serious to reflect the gravity of the situation, and confused you turn to look back at Mr. Mononobe, that confusion turning into one of realization once everything clicks into place.

They think it’s you who did it - they all think that it’s you.

You deny the accusations almost immediately, growing increasingly more distressed and frustrated when they keep bringing up evidence that suggests you were responsible. Yes, you had been at the school after classes ended - but that was to pick up your bag that you’d left behind - your friends could vouch for that because you told them where you were going! You have an explanation for everything, but your denial only seems to make things worse - Jinn tries to comfort you by saying that if you tell the truth they’ll be able to figure something out but you just snap that you are telling the truth! Do they seriously not believe you?!

By the end of the meeting it’s clear they see you as guilty. You feel your eyes burning as you stare down at the floor, and your throat feels hoarse from the yelling, but you know that saying anything else will just make things worse, so you go quiet, only piping up to once again declare your innocence only for it to fall of deaf ears. They inform you that with the damage being on school grounds it’s up to the faculty to discern what punishment you’ll receive; the authorities aren’t going to get involved, but you still have to face consequences for ‘your’ actions. The teachers see you physically deflate when you’re informed that whilst you won’t be suspended, you’ll be excluded from all notable foreseeable school events until the damage is repaired - on top of this, you’ll be escorted to and from classes by a faculty member whilst on the school premises until it’s clear that an event like this won’t happen again effective immediately. It’s only then that the meeting is adjourned and you’re allowed to either return to your class or stay until the bell rings.

The moment that the Summoner’s catch wind of what’s happened there’s an uproar - Kengo comes barging into the staff room the minute that the last class bell rings, practically seething as he demands to know what the hell’s going on - are they serious?! Do they really think it was you?! This is followed by Shiro who steps forward to intervene, asking Mr. Mononobe to please explain what made them all agree that it was you who was responsible for the damage. Even Toji steps forward on your behalf, corroborating your story about returning to the school for your belongings. It’s at this point that thing’s really start to feel wrong, but the teachers have to rely on the evidence they’ve been given, not to mention you took the trip alone - there was no saying what actually happened besides the information that they do have. Once it’s clear there’s no way to appeal your accusations the group leaves, all the while defending the fact that you were being punished for something you didn’t do.

The next week is heavy with a tense atmosphere - even without the news getting around, the fact that you were on constant watch was enough for people to catch on to what happened. Naturally your friends are there to support you, each one coming forward to either offer you words of encouragement and comfort, or to approach the teachers directly for some kind of answer. You try to keep your spirits up in the face of your friends, but around the teachers you don’t say a word.

Mr. Triton tries to strike up a conversation while he escorts you from one class to the next, only to be met by a blank stare before you focus back ahead without even a sound. Mr. Jinn is there to greet you as you enter the school grounds, and watches as the smile on your face as you talk with your friends drops into an impassive look by the time you approach him. Ms. Ziz tries to comfort you on multiple occasions, confiding that she honestly believes that you didn’t do it - but even that feels hollow compared to the people who have already deemed you guilty. Everyone sees it - there’s hurt and anger in your eyes, and Mononobe can make it out clearly every time he catches your gaze. You feel betrayed in a way, and you have every right to feel that way given your innocence, but no one else is aware of that fact.

Until the following week.

Things come to a head once the week is over - the majority of the property damage is rebuilt and there’s talk about making an exception to your punishment since there’s been no further incident and it looks like things could be going back to normal. But then there’s a knock at the staff room door and Mr. Triton is the closest one to answer it. The moment he opens the door a student comes rushing in, practically sobbing and apologizing over and over as she clutches something in her hand. Mr. Mononobe steps in to calm her down, trying to reassure her that everything’s okay until he’s finally able to make out what she’s saying.

The student knew who did it - who really did it. She had been on the school grounds the night of the incident, noticed the damage but was too scared to confront the culprits so she’d taken a video, planning to turn the video in the next morning until she heard that the person responsible had already been caught and punished. It wasn’t until much later that she’d heard that it had been you who took the fall, and the guilt of knowing the truth just ate away at her until she knew she had to tell the truth. Saying this, the student hands over her phone to Mr. Mononobe, and sure enough there’s the video of the real culprits right before his eyes - clear evidence that you’d been innocent all this time.

Everyone in the room realizes at that moment that this entire week you’d spend miserable, restricted and punished, was for a crime you didn’t even commit - and now that they know the guilt is palpable. This time when Mononobe goes to collect you it feels as though he can’t get there fast enough, and the second he opens the door the class goes silent. The last time he’d done this was when you were accused, so the moment you see him he can see you tense in your seat, apprehensive and hesitant when he asks you to step out of the classroom. Every eye is on you and you feel them burning into the back of your head as you stand up and head over to the door. Kengo almost gets up to follow you, but you shoot him a strained smile and tell him that you’ll be fine and he reluctantly slumps back into his seat.

Mononobe tries to comfort you by assuring that you’re not in trouble, but unsurprisingly you’re still doubtful, and keep looking anxiously at every door that you pass as though waiting for something to happen. You once again come to stop outside of the staff room but you don’t budge, instead turning to stare up at Mononobe in a silent refusal to open the door - but you don’t need to. The door swings open and Triton and Jinn burst out, mid discussion about checking on what’s taking you so long when they freeze and spot you and Mr. Mononobe. Almost immediately you feel panic wash over you, clearly taking their words the wrong way and you start walking back until Mononobe intervenes and tells you that it's best to explain things once you’re inside.

There’s a notable tension in your posture - you’re terrified that they’re going to tell you some other bad news - that you’ll be suspended, or expelled, or worse, even as they explain to you the new information that’s come to light regarding the property damage. The moment the word ‘innocent’ leaves his mouth you straighten up in your seat, eyes wide processing what he’d just said before anger lights up in your eyes. A week's worth of disappointment and stress come bubbling up to the surface as you seethe about how you’d been telling them that for days, only to get ignored and punished for something you never did - and they let it happen. You were innocent, and they didn’t believe you. Eventually, your voice pipes down, your anger simmering into something more melancholic and you bury your face into your hands, eyes scrunched shut trying to muster up enough strength to keep being angry, to keep yelling until everyone understands how bad it hurts. But you’re just exhausted, upset and just plain tired of the whole ordeal.

There’s a hand on your shoulder and you look up to see Mr. Mononobe kneeling down to your height, his expression remorseful as he apologizes to you. He knows that apologize will do nothing to take back everything that you’ve been subjected to this past week, but apologies are the only thing that he can offer you, alongside promises of making things right - you don’t have to believe his words right now, but he wants you to at least know that he will do his best to make good on his word. The only thing you can do is take a deep breath to steel your nerves and explain that you need some time before heading back to class - they don’t argue and you spend the rest of the lesson in the staff room, coming to terms with everything that’s just happened.

Things are incredibly awkward for a while after the incident. Your relationship with the teachers is noticeably more strained - you don’t confide in them nearly as much as you used to, and conversations between you and the teachers often ends with uncomfortable periods of silence. They clearly feel guilty about accusing you, and whilst you understand that they had to rely only on the evidence they were given it doesn’t make it any easier. You want to trust them, really you do, but it’s going to take time - and until then you keep your distance, and never go alone around school alone if you can help it for a while afterwards.

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ttttaehyungie · 4 years

Text

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 2

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sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

☘ genre | angst, exes au

☘ summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

☘ word count | 5.6k

☘ rating | PG-13

☘ warnings | none

☘ a/n | ngl this update is coming later than i intended 🙈🙈 life has been pretty demanding on me lately butttt here we go!! chapter 2 😌 as always, thank you all you lovelies for reading, and let me know what you think 💕

The blare of the alarm pierces straight through the pleasantry of slumber and has you fumbling blindly for your phone. It’s right there on the bedside table. You refuse to open your eyes to the morning light that streams into your apartment. Finally, your searching hand finds the coolness of the device that's vibrating away angrily where it sits. Within a few attempts, swiping with your eyes still stubbornly closed, you get it to shut up. Rolling over, you snuggle further down under the covers, basking in the cozy warmth.

Beep. Beep.

Of course the moment of peace is not meant to last. The five-minute snooze duration on your alarm provides but a temporary respite. You groan.

But you kick the covers off, letting the cold morning air be what shocks you into alertness. Remaining in bed is really tempting, sure.

Thank god you love your job enough to overcome the daily inertia of getting up.

You shiver a little as your bare feet hit the chilly floor. Pulling the oversized shirt that is your staple sleepwear closer to you in an attempt to retain some body heat, the thought of purchasing a fluffy robe is beginning to look less and less impulsive and more and more justifiable as a necessity. With the lack of said fluffy robe, you rush to the bathroom in search of the comfort that's found in standing under the warm spray of the shower.

Your daily morning shower always gets you sufficiently awake, or enough for you to at least be in the right state of mind to make your cup of coffee that will wake you up entirely. The coffee machine had been a splurge at the time of purchase. But it’s established itself well enough within your morning routine to be considered an investment at this point. Sipping your coffee- with cream and no sugar- in between your daily make-up routine has your insides all toasty and warm.

The hot beverage exponentially increases in importance on rainy mornings like these. It’s nothing too drastic, just a light drizzle. But it makes the concrete jungle that you live in feel extra cold, and in more ways than just in temperature. The lack of lush greenery and the stiff silence of the people rushing about to get on with their hectic daily lives often leaves the city atmosphere feeling gray and dreary.

But you can’t complain.

Not when you’re one of the exceptional cases that gets to do what you truly love. In fact, being surrounded by the robotic throngs that drag themselves to the towering skyscrapers that house these big fancy corporations of blah only makes you even more aware that what you have is something coveted.

Working as a museum curator definitely wasn’t your childhood dream. But your college days had awakened the deep passion for art history that had laid dormant in you for years.

And now, here you are. Living in the big city and working for a prestigious museum. Who would have imagined that small-town you would have achieved all of this?

You absolutely love it. This little space in the world you’ve carved out is yours. You’re chasing after your own dream and living out your passion.

Maybe that’s one thing you should be thankful for from the breakup. Being thrust into singleness had left you helplessly untethered at first what with the abrupt upheaval of all the plans you’d initially laid out.

But perhaps it was what you needed. You needed to be an individual. You needed to know what that individuality meant. And your self-exploration, free from just chasing his shadow, brought you to discover your interest in curatorial work.

Which, in turn, brought you to the city.

The very same city that the breakup had happened in.

The fates truly have a sense of humor, pulling you back to the place which was once the site of heartbreak and tragedy, but is now the launchpad for your ambitions and self-actualization.

Or, much more plausibly, it was not the fates but a matter of practicality and statistics. It’s a big city, housing multiple big-name museums. It’s only natural that the city would become the base for you to build up your career once you completed your post-grad studies.

Once upon a time, when things were still a little too raw, you’d sworn off this place entirely. The city was simply too filled with memories, both good and bad, of him.

But that line of thought simply couldn’t hold up for too long. After all, by that same logic, your own hometown would have had to be boycotted as well.

Through your extended reverie, your hands- well-seasoned to the movements they execute daily- had finished your simple make-up routine. One final spritz of setting spray, and you release your now damp hair from where it sat bundled in the towel atop your head. As you absentmindedly blow dry your hair, your thoughts wander off on their own once again.

Your decision to move out to the city was one that was made in full knowledge that Namjoon was still here. This city is not affectionately termed the city of dreams for nothing. As an aspiring writer and a boy with a city soul, it was the most natural progression of events that he chose to remain in the city after graduating from college. Living in the city made it convenient for him to meet up with his editor and publishing company.

Or so you’ve heard from Hoseok. It’s been years since your break up and neither of you have reached out to close that awkward distance that rifted between you. Anyway, when you were moving out here, you figured that in a city as big as this with such a dense population, there’s little chance that you’ll actually bump into him.

Okay. You apologize to whatever deity it is out there for your earlier dismissal of the fates. Now that you think about it, they truly exist, and boy do they have a sense of humor.

Who would think that even in a city as large as yours, you’d still manage to run into him? And not just once, but a number of times now.

The first time, it was in a diner just two streets down from the museum that you had planned to go to for lunch. That is, until you spotted him through the window, chatting with a companion, his tanned skin and dimpled smile the same as always. Suffice to say, your lunch plans changed.

Then on a quiet afternoon in the museum, your little workplace trio had slipped out together for a coffee break under Yeri’s insistence. Apparently, the new cafe down the road served an oat milk latte that was to die for, or at least good enough to drag you and Soo-eun out for.

Turns out the cafe’s reputation had reached Namjoon’s ears too, because there he was, seated by the window with a mess of papers filled with his scrawly handwriting. The choice of seating was so… Joon. He’d always justified his fascination with people-watching by claiming it to be an essential part of his creative process.

Thankfully, this creative process seemed to be going well for him and took his full attention, allowing you to slip into the cafe unnoticed. A true feat, really, considering how animated Yeri gets when she’s chatty. With your oat milk latte in hand- also this damn drink better be so good it brings you to your knees on the first sip given the things you’ve had to endure to obtain it- you’re ready to make your swift escape from this risky situation.

As Soo-eun pushes the door open, you steal a leftwards glance. Your heart stills for a second. A pair of familiar, striking eyes is trained on you, and they widen just a fraction upon being caught. You can feel your own features making their own reflex reaction as the shock runs electric through you.

The awkward eye contact is forcibly broken as you follow after your friends, refusing to acknowledge the moment the two of you just shared. That was all it was- a moment- but it felt like time came to a standstill the moment your eyes met.

This freezing of time seems to be recurrent in your run-ins with Namjoon. The next time you see him is when you’re riding the subway home. Your pubescent years had seen Namjoon shooting up in height. You can’t forget the countless times he’d had to stoop down for you so you could press a chaste goodbye kiss to his cheek. What an inconvenience it’d been.

But what a convenience it is in this scenario. His head, though bent over a book, towers over the rush hour crowd squeezed into the carriage. With his height, you’d spotted his presence within mere seconds of him boarding the train.

The shock that had jolted through you had you dropping your eye gaze and ducking your head, letting your hair fall as a shield to conceal you. And it was a pretty effective one, as your surreptitious monitoring revealed that he was none the wiser to your presence.

However your next challenge comes when it’s your stop next and he’s standing right by the exit. As the train pulls into the station, you pray hard that he returns to his book and remains sufficiently engrossed in it for you to make your escape. Keeping your gaze on the ground, you worm your way around the crowd, mumbling out ‘pardon me’s.

Perhaps that was your downfall, was what alerted him to your presence. You’re stepping out of the carriage and so close to sweet, sweet relief.

But something brushes your arm just as you’re passing by him- a hand maybe? Your breath catches. Time halts. You steel your nerves. Ignore it. Just keep walking.

As the whirring of the blow dryer switches off, so does your unrestrained recalling come to an end. Downing the last of your coffee- now barely warm- you bring it to the kitchen to wash away the dredges the same way you wash away the thoughts of Namjoon.

"One more week, everyone!" Yeri cheers, as she turns her chair, swapping her cushy flats out for some black heels. That can only mean one thing- she’s headed for a night out.

"Have fun, Yeri," you say.

"Fun? What is that? At this point in our timeline, all I know is the hustle, babe."

You glance meaningfully at her shoes.

"Happy hour drinks with one of our patrons so I can secure the loan on this piece that you listed as absolutely essential," she explains in response to your pointed look.

"Ok, ok. Go work your magic."

She smirks. "That’s right, trust me to be your resident miracle worker."

"Just make sure it comes on time, please. The exhibition spatial plotting on this one looks intense," Soo-eun pipes up quietly.

"Hey, where’s the vote of confidence in our heavenly trio?" Yeri says.

"I mean, we’re good at what we do, but exhibition design never gets any less stressful."

"Don’t worry, Soo-eun, we’ll deliver an excellent exhibition as per usual," you say, instilling in them the confidence that you genuinely feel when working with this team. "With Yeri’s charisma in securing the loans on the pieces we need, coupled with your eye in exhibition design, it’ll be great as per usual."

Ever since that first exhibition you’d all been thrown together for, the synergy between the three of you was undeniable, both to yourselves and to your other coworkers who were mere witnesses of it.

"And not forgetting your taste in selection of pieces too, ____. See, there’s the vote of confidence I was looking for," Yeri says. She applies a fresh coat of her merlot red lipstick and inspects her appearance in her compact mirror. Deeming herself presentable, she gets up from her desk, handbag casually and stylishly slung on her forearm. "Ok, I’m off. TGIF, everyone! Don’t stay too late working on those descriptions, ____."

You hum in response, your eyes glued to said descriptions that were only half-written at this point. Maybe a weekend working overtime is in order.

"Oh! Don’t forget, we’ve got brunch with Dong-In tomorrow. He really enjoyed your company the last time," Yeri says, as if she read your mind. There goes your overtime plans for the weekend that you were mentally pencilling in.

"Right. You make sure that you don’t get too wasted and miss brunch tomorrow."

"Hey, it’s a strictly professional drinking session tonight."

"Mmhm, but I’m sure you’ll find a group of friends for drinks after the meeting. When have you ever missed a night out on the town on a Friday?"

"Touche."

You smirk when she concedes. You love Yeri with all your being, but she’s a party girl at heart and you know her well. "Text me when you’re up tomorrow."

"Will do, babe. I’ve really got to run now or I’ll be late and lose you your art piece."

"All the best, Yeri!" Soo-eun calls after her.

"Thanks, and all the best, Yeri!" you echo.

Sinking back in the plush of your desk chair, you return to the write-ups and sigh.

"Just one more week, ____. Like you said, we’ve got this," Soo-eun encourages.

The next day begins much like the previous, with you fumbling for your alarm in your sleep-addled state and groaning when the five minute snooze duration passes way quicker than what five minutes feels like.

You go through your usual morning routine- shower, coffee, make-up, hair- but can afford to chill out with nowhere to rush to. Weekend mornings are to be savored for their unhurried pace. Getting up is a pain, but you relish the quiet, unbroken serenity of the mornings enough to haul yourself out of bed, even if you don’t have work to head out for.

To be frank, you’re enjoying the peacefulness of your morning so immensely that when 10am rolls around and there’s still no sign from Yeri that she’s awake- you’ve done your due diligence, you’ve dropped her at least five texts and multiple calls to check if she’s alive- the temptation to just ditch your brunch plans grows harder to fight.

Well technically, it’s Yeri’s brunch plans… So if she doesn’t wake up for them then it’s not really your fault, is it?

Dialling her number one last time brings you to her voicemail- Hey, it’s Yeri! If you’re hearing this, it either means I’m busy, asleep, or ignoring you. Just leave your message after the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Unless I’m ignoring you, in which case, … *beep*- and you smile as you find your scapegoat.

[10.07am] ____: hey dong in, mornnn, i don’t think yeri’s awake

[10.07am] ____: soooo i don’t think she’ll be making it to brunch at this rate

[10.08am] ____: should we take a rain check on this?

Your phone buzzes a little while later.

[10.11am] Dong-In: oh damn, ok then.

[10.13am] Dong-In: catch you another time?

You know that you should feel bad, but you can’t help the joy that washes through you at the prospect of being able to just stay home. Homebody tendencies die hard. Being conscious not to sound too happy, you type a reply quickly, letting Dong-In know you’ll check with Yeri when she’s free next.

The sudden freeing up of your day has you giddy with excitement. With your hair up in a bun and hitting play on your favorite Broadway musicals spotify playlist, you set about tidying your apartment as you sing to yourself. The mess in your apartment has been steadily accumulating in your neglect as a result of the busy schedules at work. But it’s gotten to a point where even you can’t stand it. And more importantly, Hoseok, with his particularity on cleanliness, is coming to visit next week.

When your apartment’s sufficiently clean, you make breakfast with whatever leftovers you can muster from your depleting food supplies. Consuming your pathetically pulled together breakfast omelette that consists of the last egg in the fridge and an overripe, almost-mush tomato cements the next item on your agenda. It’s time to go grocery shopping.

You’re midway to the grocery store when your phone buzzes in your pocket in quick succession as if provoked.

[12.18pm] Yeri: BINCH did you not go to brunch??

[12.18pm] Yeri: duDE

[12.18pm] Yeri: !!!!!!!!

[12.18pm] Yeri: ____ i s2g

[12.18pm] ____: well good morning to you too

[12.19pm] ____: you were dead to the world

[12.19pm] ____: i called you at least eight times and dropped you multiple texts

[12.19pm] ____: why are you coming at me this way huh

[12.19pm] ____: anyway i told dong in to postpone

[12.19pm] Yeri: ok oK too much shouting for this hungover bij

[12.19pm] ____: yeri it’s all over text…

[12.20pm] Yeri: typing in caps makes it shout in my head alrite

Yeri’s drama queen antics are truly one of a kind. It has you rolling your eyes, but you smile. Well now that she’s awake, you figured lunch and a hangout could substitute for your cancelled brunch plans. And of course, hungover Yeri is always in need of tender loving care. Your grocery shopping plans can always wait.

[12.20pm] ____: anyway your personal postmates is on its way to you so ‘hungover bij’ had better be grateful

[12.20pm] ____: see you in 20

[12.20pm] Yeri: ok i take it all back I LOVE YOU YOU’RE THE BEST

You get to Yeri’s place and it’s unexpected but not surprising that Soo-eun’s the one who opens the door to let you in. It makes sense, a weekend hangout would simply be incomplete without her. Plus, the task of nursing your hungover friend is not something to be taken on alone.

"Soo-eun!" You wrap an arm around her in greeting, which she returns.

"Hey, ____," she responds. "Yeri’s in the shower but she should be out soon."

"How bad is it?" you ask, releasing her and heading to the kitchen.

Soo-eun trails after you. "It’s been worse. And food will make her hangover better."

"It’s a good thing you’re here. We need your voice of reason to mediate the dumbass squabbles hungover Yeri and my impatient ass will undoubtedly get into."

Soo-eun simply laughs at your antics, shaking her head. She's well-accustomed to her role as peacemaker by now.

Another voice rings through the kitchen area where you stand with Soo-eun. "Wow, the disrespect! Breaking and entering into my house to gossip about me?"

Yeri enters, her usual bouncy ringlets now hang limp and wet, creating a damp spot over her chest where it sticks to her oversized t-shirt. In contrast to her usual self, hungover Yeri forgoes style for comfort.

"Case in point," you say. Before Yeri can bite back a response, you interject with a raise of the takeout bag in your hand.

"Hmph. I will forgive you this time. But only because you come bearing peace offerings."

"Only because you think with your stomach, you mean."

"Okay my hungover brain doesn’t want to argue anymore. Just want food."

With that, the three of you are crashing on the couch while Yeri takes liberal bites of her burger. The fries get split amongst you, picked at sporadically between your playful gossiping.

The upcoming exhibition- that's opening in a week, wow, where did all that time go?- is a pretty big one, and the three of you have been slogging it out for months now. At this stage of the project, having a weekend to kick back and relax has become a true rarity. It makes you treasure the time together even more.

But in that vengeful manner that time seems to get when you're enjoying yourselves, the afternoon slips by when it feels like it's barely even begun. Outside the looming windows of Yeri’s loft apartment, the sun is beginning to set. The tv is playing but it’s the equivalent of a murmur, just ambient noise as the three of you soak in the coziness of physical closeness.

None of you wants to shatter the quiet calm that has settled in like a blanket over you, but someone has to. And that someone is you.

You lift your head from where it rests on Soo-eun’s shoulder. Your light jostling causes Yeri to lift her head from where it lays on your lap.

You sigh. "I’ve procrastinated grocery shopping for the entire day. And the fridge isn't getting any fuller the longer I stay."

Yeri whines and plops her head back down onto your lap, pressing down forcefully to keep you from getting up.

"Or we could all go to the store together," Soo-eun says. Yeri's head pops up at the suggestion.

"Idea! Let's go!" she says, scrambling up from her reclined position across the couch. "You brought me Arby’s, it’s only fair I do groceries with you."

You turn to Soo-eun, but she’s replying before you can even ask. "I suggested it, of course I’m ok with it."

"Fine," you huff, but they both know it’s feigned annoyance. All three of you are as clingy to each other as the next is. "You can come along. But we’re only buying the necessities. Only. Necessities."

Your basket is full of non-necessities thrown in by Yeri. You really should have made a shopping list.

While Yeri is busy perusing the next aisle, Soo-eun removes the bags of chips Yeri had thrown in (because ‘this is a necessity! You never have any snacks when we crash at your place, I’m just thinking ahead for our future hangouts!’) and places them back on the shelf it came from. You smile at her gratefully.

Yeri returns with another armful of snacks.

"Yeri," you groan. "I came for fresh produce, not this. I already had an overripe tomato for breakfast. I’m not up for eating junk food as sustenance for the rest of the week."

"Well you could have had a nice fresh meal if you didn’t skip out on brunch. Poor Dong-In, I can’t believe you cancelled brunch with him."

"Hm," you say, walking ahead down the grocery aisle, "if you feel so bad for Dong-In, maybe you shouldn’t have overslept on us then."

Yeri chases after you to dump the snacks in your basket. "You could have just gone without me. He’s a nice guy, y’know."

"No way, that would be too awkward. What would we even talk about? We’re so different."

"You’ve only met him twice. Who knows? Maybe he belts out Broadway songs in the shower just like you and you can finally find the Phantom to your… Opera."

Walking just behind the two of you, Soo-eun’s laughter, though hastily masked by a cough, could be heard.

"It’s Christine. And if you’d watched the musical, you would know not to wish Phantom on anyone," you say.

"Whatever! I’m just saying, it takes more than two meetings to know someone. Give him a chance, ____."

"Wait." You freeze mid-step. You turn to Yeri. "Are you trying to set me up with Dong-In?!"

Yeri’s eyes roll in exaggerated exasperation. When she’s done, she folds her arms and her body language sends a loud and clear, "Duh."

You frantically pull your phone out from where it sits in the pocket of your jeans. Swiping quickly to read your text conversations with Dong-In in the light of this new information, you’re absolutely mortified by your lack of awareness and worried if you’ve come off as brash in your ignorance.

"Does he know? Am I the only one who’s unaware?!"

This time, it’s Soo-eun that pitches in. "Even as a third party, it was pretty obvious Yeri was trying to matchmake you two. So… sorry, ____, but it’s just you."

You sputter.

"It’s alright. Your obliviousness is part of your charm," Yeri says.

"And," Soo-eun cuts in before you can retort, "you have no obligation to feel anything for Dong-In. So if you’re not interested in him that way, you just aren’t."

Yeri huffs, but agrees. "She’s right. But- now that you’re finally aware- give him a chance alright?"

As it turns out, you never get to give Dong-In that chance. With the exhibition launching in less than a week, it's a crazy sprint to the finish-line, and your days are simply too packed to think about anything other than preparing for the exhibition.

The exhibition itself has a short lifespan- it'll be open to the public for a relatively short period of six months.

But accompanying it is a series of open lectures meant for public education of the arts. Yeri, who is simply amazing at patron relations, managed to rope in guest lecturers for the next few months. But the museum thought it would be an excellent idea to have one of their own resident curators to helm the first of the series of lectures.

And it was an excellent idea. Just not for the curator who had to take it on. And that curator would be you.

Sitting in the first row of seats in the auditorium, you try your best to refrain from looking back. You can hear the buzz of the audience behind you as they stream in. It sounds like a sizable amount of people. Looking back would only spook you out further, so you focus your attention on the index cards in your hands, running through your main points again and again.

You take a deep breath in, and heave it out in an attempt to release the anxiety built up in your chest. A warm hand gently pries your right hand’s nervous grip off your index cards.

"____," Soo-eun says. She's smiling assuredly at you when you look up at her. "You'll be great."

From your left, Yeri gives your shoulder a light shove. "Yeah. You've got this, girl!"

"We've seen the amount of effort you've put into this. It'll pay off," Soo-eun says.

Their words breathe a deep sense of confidence in you. After all, they're the ones who had to bear with your stress and they're the witnesses to consecutive late nights you've pulled in the office to get your script and slides done. This particular iteration of the script was a product of not just your work, but their benevolence and hard work too at editing and proofreading.

Squeezing Soo-eun's hand in yours in a bid to get rid of the jitters, you nod at them.

"We've got this," you say.

The clock hits time and you walk on stage, focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other and focusing on not- oh god forbid- tripping over your heels. The nerves are still present as you take your place at the podium, but you ignore the way your hands tremble ever so slightly.

You greet the audience, capturing their attention, and begin your presentation. And as you begin talking about your subject matter- the topic you've spent months researching and studying- the nerves melt away and your passion begins to take center-stage in your mind instead.

You're so immersed in the topic that you're just going and going, and soon enough you've reached the end of your script and the ‘Q&A’ slide is up on screen. Applause fills the auditorium, and you smile, genuinely pleased that people seem to have enjoyed your presentation. In the corner of your eye, you see Yeri cheering, and Soo-eun shoots you two thumbs-up.

"Thank you." You bow slightly. "I'll open the time up to the floor. If anyone has any questions, you may feel free to ask them now."

You scan across the auditorium, looking out for questions, when-

Time freezes in that way it always seems to whenever your eyes meet. Seated somewhere in one of the middle aisles but off to the right of the auditorium, long limbs crossed one over the other in his black slacks, Namjoon's eyes are wide as yours catch on him as if encountering a snag.

Oh. My. God. What is he doing here?

Peeling your eyes off him, you skim across the room again. Thankfully, a few hands are raised now and you take their questions, offering yourself a means of escape. But your attention is split and it takes intentional effort as you forcibly will yourself to look at anything but him.

"Okay, I'm afraid that's all the questions we have time for. But I'll be around with some of the other curators for a couple more minutes if anyone has any other questions about the exhibition," you say, gesturing to Yeri and Soo-eun, who wave at the public.

As the audience disperses, you walk off stage, hoping he'll just quietly leave.

No such luck, apparently. From your peripheral vision, you see him coming over as a few other members of the public come up to you to thank you for your lecture.

"Hey," he says, and the familiarity of his warm tone hits you like a punch in the gut, "um, you did a really good job today."

As if your break up hadn't happened the way it did, as if the numerous awkward encounters hadn't taken place, as if it didn't hurt you right now just seeing his face properly after all these years, you put up a front. You smile at him diplomatically.

"Thanks," you say. Your tone is kept even, professional. "How did you find it?"

"It was great, really. I've come to a couple of the museum's exhibitions, but this is the first lecture I've attended."

"Yeah, it's a new thing we decided to introduce for this particular exhibition."

"It's great, yeah. Gives more depth and insight to the art pieces and really makes the whole thing come alive when you see it from the curator's perspective."

You nod. "Nice. That was our intention."

"Anyway," he pauses and runs a hand through his hair self-consciously, "how have you been? It's been a long time."

You bite back the scathing remark that sits on the tip of your tongue. It's almost too enticing to finally let him have it after the years of torment he'd caused you after your break up. The torment that still lives in you, muted under layers of numbness that you've buried it under. Did he even feel the pain in the same measure that you did?

"I'm good." You're tempted to leave it at that. But there's just something in his eyes, something... like a plea? that makes it impossible for you to be cold to him the way your past self imagined you would be. "I've been living in the city for a couple of years now. I'm working in the museum as a curator, as you can see, and yeah, life has been good for me."

Before you can stop yourself, you find yourself reciprocating his question. Ultimately, you can't deny your burning curiosity at what he's been up to. "What about you? How have things been for you?"

"I finally got published a few years back," he says, and you nod as if this is new information to you. Truth is, on your summer break back home that year, your eavesdropping ways had brought the news to you as you heard Hoseok congratulating him on his breakthrough. He laughs lightly. "My life has kind of just revolved around writing, getting inspiration from different sources to write, then writing more. If it sounds really mundane, it's because it is."

"No way." You shake your head. "You're living your dream, Namjoon. Wasn't it always your ambition to be a published author?"

You regret it almost immediately, bringing up the past. Anything to do with the past is dangerous territory. Hell, having a conversation with him that's more than just polite small talk about cursory topics devoid of personal details and emotions (i.e. a conversation like this one) is dangerous territory.

He murmurs something, and you’re certain you mishear him. "You remember."

"Pardon?"

"No, I was agreeing with you. Yeah, it is."

In the background, your slides click off, and it pulls you out of your conversation with Namjoon.

"I think I've gotta go," you say, pointing to the podium where Soo-eun collects your belongings. "My friends are waiting for me."

"Oh!" Namjoon says, turning to look at where you're pointing. "Yeah, don't wanna hold you up any longer. Thanks for your time today."

He turns to go, and you can't help the nagging discomfort at the way things are left hanging between the two of you.

"Hey!" you call. He turns back. "Do you want to do dinner? Hoseok is coming out for the weekend, so do you want to hang out, the three of us? We're going to the diner two streets down from here."

Funny. Didn’t you avoid this diner to avoid Namjoon the last time? Again, it seems the fates truly have a sense of humor.

Namjoon's eyebrows raise in surprise, but it's momentary and quickly replaced as his features soften into a grateful smile. His dimples appear and you hate how, even after all these years, it still has the power to wring your heart out.

"That sounds really nice, actually," he says.

"Is seven ok for you?"

"Seven’s good. I'll see you and Hoseok then."

"See you," you say and he nods. This time, he turns to go for real.

As you watch his retreating figure, you wonder if you really made the right choice, opening the door for him to re-enter your life after all these years.

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ayuuria · 4 years

Text

Yashahime Translation: Animedia January 2021 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

I do apologize if some of the translations feel awkward. This one was slightly technical so I had to do some research on the side.

Animedia Education Lecture

You think you know but you surprisingly don’t

Working in Anime

— Editing Edition –

A corner where we delve into the work of anime production. This time, we ask Nii Kazuhiro of (share) IMAGICA Lab., who handles the editing for “Hanyō no Yashahime”, about editing!

The job of “editing” is vital not just in anime but also in live movies and tv dramas. People who like films may be able to vaguely imagine the burden of having the big role of organizing the scenes. However, exactly what sort of work do they do in anime production? This time, Mr. Nii Kazuhiro of (share) IMAGICA Lab., who oversees the editing of the action packed “Hanyō no Yashahime”, makes an appearance! We had him discuss editing and the special work process unique to “Hanyō no Yashahime”.

Tell us Nii-san! Let’s learn about “Editing”

Q: What kind of job is “Editing”?

It is a job that manages the flow of the whole film by connecting scenes or shots together. For example, how well a signature move in battle or sports is executed is dependent upon the tempo adjustment “editing”. Other things like scenes where shots are divided effectively by the placement of songs or music in an important work, will always have an editor’s hand (adjustment) involved. Even if the animation is created to flow exactly like the storyboard, a lot of times the timing of those scenes is fine-tuned with editing. Timing is just as important as properly moving images after all.

Q. During what phase of the anime production do you work?

Typically in anime, shots are edited at a phase where the color and sound have not yet been added and is completed as each phase in the production moves forward. Editing takes place before the audio work. Basically, it occurs twice: before voice recording and dubbing (translator’s note: Dubbing here does not mean voice over! Dubbing is the phase where they mix the voicing, sound effects, and music together to match the images). There are many works where color is added after dubbing has concluded, but in “Hanyō no Yashahime”, in order to allow for dubbing with the color, colored images are used as materials when editing. Since the images are colored, we can confirm the fine details with the director and production supervisor and then make adjustments.

Q. How does one become an “Editor”?

I entered a vocational school focused on film making and learned not just about editing but film making as a whole such as filming and lighting. There wasn’t any convenient editing software at the time, so I joined my current company that does film production thinking “Editing is something that can’t be self-taught so I want to learn on the job”. If you want to pursue editing, then you should watch as many different types of films as you can. You can’t notice things in production like direction and the camera angle of a shot if you don’t have interest in it, so I think it’s best to study it for the sake of knowledge.

Q. What abilities are needed for “Editing”?

Communication skills are an absolute must. Especially in animation which has a lot of detailed work itineraries and staff members creating it. To ensure that there are no mistakes, you must ask the director or production supervisor on anything you are unsure of. Of course, you can’t keep asking questions on every single shot so there are times where you will need to understand past productions and make decisions yourself. However, being able to muster up the courage and ask when necessary is important. You need communication skills for that purpose.

The “Hanyō no Yashahime” Production Site Packed with Fixations

— Please tell us the details on how you came to oversee the editing in “Hanyō no Yashahime”.

I had the opportunity to work with Director Satō (Teruo) on “Aikatsu Stars!” and he reached out to me. Since the story was connected to “Inuyasha”, which was broadcasted when I was a child, I felt a lot of pressure at first. While I was nervous when I heard the that main staff hadn’t changed much from “Inuyasha”, I felt “That’s all the more reason I have to work hard”.

— In regard to the editing work, did Director Satō make any demands?

I touched on this earlier in my response to “what phase we work” where I discussed how the director requested “Please have the images close to completion before the dubbing, where the music and voicing will be decided finalized, takes place. I would like to have editing done just before the dubbing as well.” This is what makes this so different from other works.

For example, in action scenes when the image is unfinished, it’s hard to understand the small movements or context. Hence, it’s difficult to take a “Maybe make the tempo like this” sort of editing approach. In typical animes, there are a lot of times where the final images solidify after the sound is completed. When that happens, there’s not much room to make edits for the most part.

However, in “Hanyō no Yashahime”, the images are mostly done before the dubbing so we can make adjustments with the director while matching the images with the voice actor’s lines. I thought it was a good idea. This is a trait unique to this work.

— Was there an aspect that you yourself focused on when editing this work?

While it’s a work with a lot of serious developments, what I focus on during those scenes is the “the interval between emotions”. In live film works, for thinking scenes, the actor’s “thinking act” is included so there’s an interval. However, in anime, the movement simply stops and there are no lines, so a lot of times you can’t measure the interval. Nevertheless, those serious scenes are important in “Hanyō no Yashahime” so I think it’s important to have “intervals” which is what I’m careful about. On the other hand, there are comical scenes, so I’m careful not to destroy the tempo. In anime, the tempo can change if it’s off by 6 frames*

*1 frame = 24 frames per second

The Feeling of Fun in Doing “Editing” Work

— In anime editing, does the work’s genre make a difference?

It does. Lately in action and sport (animes), materials included are not just from the storyboard but also from 3D CG as well, so we’re careful to make sure the connection between that and normal image (2D) scenes don’t feel out of place. When I first started, I couldn’t get the hang of it and was at a loss. The 3D CG portion is done by a different production team instead of the animation (drawing) team, so during my edits I couldn’t visualize the complete final form and fumbled as I worked.

In terms of idol anime, there’s “Aikatsu Stars!” that I worked with Director Satō on, but I was still a novice then… In work that’s geared towards children, I focused on making the tempo of the conversation scenes as steady as possible. If the tempo is too fast, it will end with everything being breezed through and a child will become unable to follow. I remember being careful of that.

— Are there times where you have to edit multiple episodes at the same time?

I mainly only work on one episode at a time. It’s just that periodically I have to confirm and make adjustments on a line-by-line basis in another episode at the same time.

— What part of “Editing” do you feel makes the jobs worthwhile?

In anime, images and CG shots that have been completed at each phase of the process are gathered individually as materials for editing. Updating those materials into one new episode and getting to see the finished product first is what “Editing” is. I think this is what makes the job of “Editing” fun the most. I get a sense of responsibility that I’m managing not only the shots but the entire work as a whole. Also, because I’ve seen the production process, I feel happy and simply moved like “That’s amazing” when all the phases are completed and the whole anime is finished. This is when I feel worthwhile as an editor. Also, I don’t think there’s much opportunity to take part in the production of the character movement and camera work in live filming, so I think this is what makes editing anime fun.

— After going through all the work, how do you feel when you watch the broadcasting of the finished version?

I end up watching it from different angles but when I watch it as a regular viewer, I become happy nonetheless. Of course, there are times where I personally think “I should’ve done this” at the little things. Now with social media, I know the viewers’ reactions in real time, so when there was a huge response to episode 1 with Inuyasha and the others, that put pressure on me going forward (laughs).

The Charm of “Hanyō no Yashahime” That You Personally Enjoy

— Of all the episodes that have been broadcasted thus far, which episode left the biggest impression on you?

Episode 3 where the three heroines (Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha) came together. I got to watch the (voice) recording for that episode and the battle scene was really cool. Also, I was able to properly draw the first conversation between the three so that left the biggest impression on me in that sense.

Then there’s episode 7. It’s the episode where you return to the scene of the three of them that at the very beginning of episode 1. The composition of back tracking up to episode 1 left an impression on me, so even as I was editing episode 7, I admired how it felt like the mystery was being revealed or rather feeling like “I see. This is where it connects”.

— By the way, who is your favorite character personally?

Moroha. She’s fundamentally an energetic character, her skills in action scenes are cool, and the way she seems to mimic the movements of her father, Inuyasha, is entertaining as well. While she behaves in a manner that makes you wonder if she had a tragic past, she’s a character whose emotions are easy to read so that’s why she’s my favorite.

— Including upcoming highlights, please give a message to our readers.

Going forward there will be more episodes regarding the three heroine’s past which I think is a highlight. As I was editing a future episode, I felt “We’re approaching the true nature of the story”. Please look forward to the cool action scenes and the episode where the three’s past will become clear.

#yashahime #hanyō no yashahime #yashahime: princess half-demon #translation

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strawberrytheduck · 3 years

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Belle Quacks-Chapter 14

Four months had passed since the Negaduck incident passed. She had been going to therapy once a week before meeting Morgana, Camellia or Quackerjack and Megavolt. Belle had been trying to grasp a lot of things in her life, mostly the changes in the past four months. She always kept mini Quacky with her, often out of site, helping her stay grounded and remind her he was back and mostly okay. Morgana would cheer her up at every opportunity, taking her to carnivals, parties or just to the cafe. It helped her build confidence in herself to the point she had gained a little more weight and go back to her natural colour. Camellia had too as they both dyed their hair together, usually after Belle had a meltdown and Camellia had a stressful day to the point of crying. Her natural hair reminded her of her dad but she knew it wasn’t healthy for her hair to dye it constantly so she decided to return to her light orange hair for a little while. Camellia had also recently got a boyfriend, the plant villain himself, Bushroot. She was happy for Camellia and yet, also jealous. Why though? She didn’t like him like that, she had her brother, his partner, his partner’s younger twin siblings and more confidence than she ever had before. Camellia was prettier than her but that wasn’t it. She got jealous around her brother and Megavolt, which made no sense to her since they were together before Belle saw Jack again. This had been something she had noticed recently, anytime she’d see a happy couple, she’d feel jealous. There seemed to be no reason why. After her therapy session, she met with Elmo at the cafe. “Heya sis!” He greeted, waving her over.

She put on her most convincing smile before sitting in front of him. “Hey, did ya do somethin’ different to your hair?” He asked, scratching his head before adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, I stopped dying it, I wanted to give my hair a break. Why? Does it look bad?” Megavolt shook his head, reaching to hold her hand and telling her it looks great. Her and the supercharged rodent rarely spoke one-on-one, this was a little strange to her but she welcomed it, happy to know her brother’s boyfriend better. “Hey, you don’t seem as talkative as usual. Is something wrong?” He asked, sincerely looking at the duck. She opened the flood gates, explaining her sudden jealous wave. How despite how happy she was for the people she loved, that she envied them and wasn’t sure why. Belle also explained, seemingly on a tangent how she felt around Morgana, how she felt weak in the knees and sick around her. Megavolt simply rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, letting her talk. “Is something else wrong with me?” She asked, tears threatening to fall. Elmo assured her there was nothing wrong, saying he’d been feeling the same she felt around Morgana around Quackerjack before they were dating. He told her to explain just what she thought of Morgana, hoping to help her pin it down. The way Belle talked about the sorceress was pure adoration and she was absolutely smitten. Her cheeks steadily went from white to pink, her eyes filled with a galaxy worth of stars. ‘Oh, she’s in love.’ He thought. Once she stopped, she apologized for how long she went on for.

“No, that was fine, perfect even. I know what’s eating you, just what I suspected.” She looked at him confused. When he explained, she felt like she got hit by a train. “You’re in love with Morgana.” What? In love? She couldn’t be, Morgana was a friend. No, that term was wrong. Wait, why would it be wrong? They were friends! And yet, Belle could easily see herself doing everything Camellia and Bushroot did. Sleepy, early morning kisses, movie nights where they would cuddle on the couch, holding hands innocently and sharing a bed and just looking each other in the eyes, talking in a hushed tone so as to ease each other to sleep. Oh wait, those were couple things. Things people did when in love with each other. And she wanted to do all of that and more with the sorceress. That’s why she felt that way around the sorceress, she wanted to pursue a relationship with her? As she was thinking, she felt someone hug her. She looked up to see her brother, completely unassuming looking in terms of clothing, his hair in a messy bun. “Hiya Belle, hey Sparky.” Belle kind of just nuzzled her brother, whimpering a little. “I think she finally realized she’s in love with Morgana.” Megavolt stated. An exasperated sigh came from the older duck, along with a “Finally”. It had been that obvious? How come she didn’t know? “Trust me, Elmo didn’t realize he was in love with me for ages either.” That did make her feel a little better. “Morgana really likes you Belle, I could see it in the way she looks at you, go for it.” The rodent suggested. Belle would, just tomorrow when she would be staying with Morgana for a week while they did some construction in her apartment.

Tomorrow came faster than she wanted it to, she was glad Megavolt was helping her take her necessities to Morgana’s place though. “You’ll be fine Jingles, even if she somehow didn’t feel the same, she’d be respectful and still care about you. There’s nothing that can go wrong.” He said as he drove her to the sorceress’ place. This was still a lot to take in, a lot to consider. What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if she gets kicked out? What if Morgana hates her? The front door opened to reveal a small, slightly monstrous woman. Belle yelped a little in surprise. “Hi, we’re here to see Morgana.” Megavolt said, perfectly calm. “Granny, I thought you said you were going to lie down.” Morgana said, standing in the door frame. The woman nodded, eyeing Belle in a strange way before leaving. “Sorry about that Belle, she’s also staying with me for a little bit. She won’t hurt you, don’t worry. Let me help you with your stuff.” She said, laughing a little nervously. “Don’t worry, just be yourself. Smile, be genuine. You’ve got this.” Elmo said, gently grabbing her by the shoulders. Belle smiled, straightening her posture. She waved goodbye, following Morgana into the house. “Make yourself at home, Granny won’t bother you too much. There’s multiple guest rooms, just pick one you like.” Morgana explained, smiling warmly, her cheeks rosy. “C-Could I sleep with you? J-Just because i-it’s my first time here.” She asked the taller woman. Morgana nodded, hugging her. The two talked about the next week, figuring out what they should do. Morgana wanted a horror movie marathon and Belle wanted to do some baking, having fixated on it recently. Morgana agreed, saying there was plenty of time for both of those. “I’m glad you let me stay here, I’m happy for Cammy but I can’t stand watching her and Bushroot be all lovey dovey.” Belle said.

“Oh, they’re dating? I should’ve seen that coming. What about you, do you have a girlfriend?” She asked. Silence. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked.’ Morgana thought. “No, I am interested in someone though.” She has to tell her, rip off the bandaid, face the music. Just then, luckily, Morgana’s granny appeared again. “Who even is this Morgana? I won’t rest until I have answers!” She asked, almost shrieking at them. “Sorry, Granny isn’t a fan of outsiders. Granny, this is Belle, a friend of mine.” Belle held out her hand towards the older woman. She took it, shaking it but eyeing her suspiciously. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am, I like your obsidian necklace.” The redhead said. “Oh, you know what stone it is?” Belle nodded. “I’ve made a few obsidian necklaces before myself, I know a lot about gemstones and crystals. It looks a little weathered and damaged, is it an heirloom?” Surprisingly, Morgana’s granny warmed up to her a little, she did think she spoke a lot and was a little weird, even by their standards. Belle had to explain her brain didn’t work the same as hers or Morgana’s, to which she nodded, understanding then shrugged. She didn’t fully trust her but she didn’t mind her, seeing her as no threat. Morgana wrapped an arm around Belle. “She’s not usually that nice to outsiders. She may not like you necessarily but you’re fine, she just needs to know you’re not Magica De Spell or something.” She’s okay with that, knowing Morgana didn’t come from a normal upbringing. Still, there was something she had to do. “U-Um, Morg... T-There’s something I-I-I have to t-tell you.” She flapped her hands a little, trying to keep herself calm. “Yes?”

“W-Well, um, I-I-I’m in l-love w-w-with you. You’re r-really sweet and p-p-p-pretty and clever a-and u-u-understanding.”

#oc x canon #bushroot #quackervolt #quackerjack #megavolt #darkwing duck ocs #darkwing duck oc #oc fic #morgana macawber

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prongsisabadger · 3 years

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TWP Chapter 25

The last few days before a large-scale attack were always the shortest. Everyone on board was busy with last minute preparations and tension was always running high. It was hard not to get anxious with the amount of nervousness going around, especially for a force sensitive. It was times like these that I envied the calm my masters were capable of. We were all having fitful, restless nights, I knew it, but even then, Master Kenobi seemed always composed, put together and ready for anything. To be able to hold everyone together by simply being there, solid, reassuring. I admired Master Kenobi for it, because, right then, it seemed like the only thing keeping the 212th in one piece was his composure.

Not that the entire battalion was running around like headless chickens, they were professional, trained soldiers; but the anticipation before a battle brought to light a lot of their coping mechanisms for their anxiety, and some were very obvious about it. Most of them checked the integrity of their armour multiple times a day, others polished their blasters so much they looked like they were freshly manufactured; some called the person they had been seeing while off duty just in case, and others exercised religiously before sleep so that they could actually rest every night. Master Kenobi told me he meditated three times a day, when he woke up, right after lunch and before sleep. I figured that was the secret to his success. As for me, I meditated as well, but I also made sure to call the Pack and Master Plo every night before lights off.

Master Plo had known me long enough to realize I was getting attached to the people around me, he warned me about the possible consequences of that, but he never chastised me for it. Losing them -and some of them I would lose- would be one of the most if not the most painful experience of my life. I knew that, I told him, but shying away from connections for fear of what might happen seemed cowardly to me. He understood, but made it very clear that I would be the only one to blame for the repercussions of my actions. Still, even after he had made his opinion on the matter clear, he continued to listen to my worries and answer my questions. He was patient like that. Master Plo was what every Jedi Master should be, and I was incredibly lucky to have him. He was a father figure, true, but I wouldn't go as far as to compare him to A'Koba. Master Plo was family, a teacher, a guide, and I was as attached to him as I was to the clones, to Ahsoka, and to Master Kenobi.

I had a lot to lose.

…

When I was still in the Jedi Temple, training to be a Padawan, I learned to manage my anxiety by forcing myself to be present in the moment. To do each action with awareness and purpose, to focus my mind on what I was doing and why, and to perform all of it as carefully and meticulously as possible. That habit had followed me onto the battlefield.

I woke the day of the invasion to the sound of my alarm, blinking the sleep from my eyes and rubbing them a little before sitting on my bunk bed. I took a deep breath in and sighed out any trepidation I might have had for the day. I washed my face and brushed my teeth in the refresher before re-braiding the longer strands of hair on the back of my head that hadn't been cut when I became a Padawan. My pale face was a stark contrast against my short black hair, which made it look almost sickly in the fluorescent light of the refresher, but I knew the shadows underneath my eyes were no trick of the light.

I walked back into my quarters and took a moment to look at my new robes. I had been forced to get new ones after Master Kenobi had pointed out how worn out my previous ones had been. Jedi always needed to look their best, it was good for morale, he said. This new set had three layers: the bottom one was the very same deep maroon Master Plo wore, the middle layer was the sandy color of Tusken traditional wear, and the last one was cream, like Master Kenobi's. They were all tied together by my gray utility belt. Next to them there was the armour the 212th had given me, almost new, with only few scratches here and there. I knew more would be added by the end of the mission.

I started dressing myself, putting on my pants first and then the first layer of linen. I dedicated such time and care to each of them it almost felt reverent. I wanted to honor the meaning behind the decision I'd made when choosing each of them. Where I'd come from, where I'd been, where I was. I wanted everything about my outer appearance to reflect who I was on the inside. Yes, I was a Jedi. I was Plo Koon's and Obi-Wan Kenobi's Padawan. I was a member of both the 104th and 212th battalions. But I was also Tusken. I would always be.

I made sure to put Ahsoka's bracelet and the utility belt on properly before getting started on the armor. First went the breast plate, then the shoulder pads, the rerebraces, the elbow pads and vambraces. Next came the boots. I looked at myself in the mirror and for the first time in years was satisfied with what I saw. Yes, that was me. When I was done psyching myself up, I took my gloves and tucked them into my belt before leaving for the mess hall. I would need a good cup of koff for this one.

The mess hall was crowded with clones breaking fast before their morning shift and, if possible, even rowdier than ever. It was normal for troops -I had come to realize- to try and hide their anxiety by being louder than usual. The more lighthearted ones would joke around and try to raise others' spirits, while the more reserved ones kept silent for the most part, only snapping at others when they became too much for them to handle.

Either way, tensions were high, very high. Everyone wanted to get to Felucia and just get the battle started already. If there was anything worse than the silence after a battle, then that was the silence before. The Force moved sluggishly around people about to run into battle, almost sticky with anxiety and fear, weighing on everything and everyone, constricting the chest and overstimulating the mind while freezing the body in place. At least when one was fighting and moving around and desperate to stay alive, things seemed to flow freely.

I took the tray that was given to me and a cup of koff before heading towards one of the empty tables. I didn't mind eating alone, in fact, I had become used to it. Sometimes T.H. or Waxer or Boil, or even Master Kenobi would join me, but for the most part, our schedules didn't really match up, so eating on my own was not a big deal to me. At least in the 212th. I finished my breakfast quickly and after returning the tray I headed for the bridge.

I watched troopers march by on the corridors, moving supplies and gear, putting teams together, going over the plan one last time before the assault. Their faces might have been the same, but they could not have been more different. To force sensitives, being in a star destroyer filled to the brim with clones felt like walking the streets of Coruscant, every life form was unique. And each reacted differently to the tension of a fast approaching battle. They made sure to try their hardest to differentiate themselves from the next clone as well. You could tell a lot by a trooper's armour, hair and tattoos. They were so wildly different, and interacting with them blew my mind every time.

The doors to the bridge slid open with a smooth, quiet swish. The room was alive with chatter from the crew as well as the commanding officers on deck. Cody and Master Kenobi stood amongst plans and holomaps of Felucia, and were discussing something about the southern and northern hemispheres. But they were not alone, Master Skywalker and Captain Rex were there as well -or their holograms were- listening in on what the other two were saying.

"Good morning, gentlemen." I greeted as I came within range of the holotransmiter.

"Ah, Kriari, good to see at least Obi-Wan's Padawan isn't hopeless." Said Master Skywalker. "Ahsoka could learn a thing or two from you."

I chuckled.

"I doubt it, Master. I grew up with her, if she didn't learn to be on time back then, I don't think she ever will."

As if on cue, Ahsoka came into shot a few seconds later, panting like she had run all the way from her quarters to the bridge. She apologized profusely, only to have her master sass her and Obi-Wan shake his head in exasperation. Cody and Rex said nothing, but I knew they found the whole thing amusing. Or at least Rex did, Cody felt kind of tired of the whole thing already.

"Well, now that we have everyone, I think we can start briefing everyone on the plan. Cody?" Said Master Kenobi as he motioned Commander Cody forward.

"We will split our effort into two. We will approach from the southern hemisphere where we have no reports of anti-aircraft weaponry. Once we secure the landing site, we will send out two patrols into the jungle to try and establish a perimeter. One will go east, and the other west." He explained as he pointed at the holomap of Felucia. "Once we are able to secure a big enough perimeter, we should be able to hold it until the occupation fleet arrives."

I stroked at my chin softly as I watched the holo map turn. There were two big Separatist outposts marked, and I didn't want to imagine the amount of droids each could house.

"I think we should be careful going into this one. Getting through the blockade will be hard enough. Even if we don't lose any gunships trying to get through, we might not have enough troops to take that many droids." I said. "I get why we are avoiding the north, but wouldn't it be wiser to send a patrol there to make sure the enemy won't box us in?"

Obi-Wan looked at me and smirked, he seemed satisfied with something I'd said.

"We thought about that, Commander," answered Cody. "We know something is up north, and we can count on them attacking, but we don't know if there is anything to the east or west. You can expect something you know is there, but never something you don't."

I nodded in understanding. Surprises in the battlefield were never pleasant, it was wise to make sure there weren't any.

"I'm guessing Kriari and I are taking the patrols, then." Smiled Ahsoka. "Don't worry, masters, we'll make sure no tinnie gets past us. Right, Kriari?"

I smirked at her and nodded. Not one.

"Well, since we're all settled and briefed on the plan, we should get going." Said Master Skywalker. "Try not to land too far from the landing site, Master. Wouldn't want me and the boys to have to rescue you."

"Careful now, Master Skywalker. Wouldn't want to have to swallow those words of yours now, would you?" I shot back before Obi-Wan could answer.

I thought it had been funny, Master Kenobi and Cody definitely had thought so as well, but Master Skywalker stayed cold, indifferent to my words; for a moment, I thought he hadn't heard me.

"We'll see about that."

#TWP #clone wars fan fiction #star wars the clone wars #plo koon #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #commander wolffe #padawan!oc

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dangerghost20 · 4 years

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Long Post #1 (other will be another date)

I have struggled to write this out multiple times. Some people know the basics of what I am about to reveal. I think what I am about to reveal has been the reason for some of the problems in my life. I have been to a therapist about it and dismissed after one session saying it was just stress (I don’t trust them now. Just the attitude about it.). I was urged by a great friend to go after having a meltdown during freshman year of college trying to write a paper (having the professor called my first paper the worst thing he had ever read). To sum up, I am a survival of mental and physical child abuse.

I think some details should be involved here because it was both by my mother and father (they divorced right after I was born). Let's start with my father, because he did so much with little time. I have a problem with food, and I know it. It really comes down to what my father would do. I would have my breakfast, lunch or dinner sat in front of me and be told, and I quote, “You have five minutes to finish the meal before I take it away and throw it in the trash.” One distinct plate had a whole hamburger, fries and some type of vegetable (I was like 6 here). I learned to eat a whole plate of food in under five minutes. This is not healthy and to this day I can still do. I have to think about eating slowly. When I eat fast I get hungry more often and will snack. I also got starved for a whole day because I was a kid taking a bath, farted and poop came out (I tried to get it in the toilet before he saw, but no luck. I also got my ass whipped for it too). It has been known in my family that I am extremely scared of snakes, even by him. As a kid, he had my bedroom as the same room as his snakes, meaning I would not sleep. He would even force me to have it on my lap for hours, where I would sit as still as possible. As I got older, I was told “If you want to have a relationship with your father, you should be the one calling me.” I am sorry, but that is not how a parent should act. I have not heard from him since my high school graduation, which I was forced to invite him to and interact with afterwards, at the family get together.

If I wrote about everything my mother did to me, you would be reading for days so these are some highlights. I should mention that all this happened by the time I was in fifth grade (11 years old) and due to some family members stepping in, help was given. My mother did get help and after a couple years of not having custody, it was granted back when she remarried to my step-dad. It is related to my mother’s drinking and one reason I have to watch how much I drink (afraid I will be just like her).

Some of the events that stand out are the following. Multiple times I would be whipped with a leather belt (sounds normal but the amount of times and degree it was done is not) but so bad that my ass would be bleeding. One time she made me sit in front of a fan on my ass because of the whipping while she had friends over and they laughed at the site while drinking. I was always told I was fat (as a kid) and because she thought this, one of my punishments was I was not allowed to eat anything but jello for a whole week and drink only water. Thanks to my sister sneaking me food, I was able to have something more. I was dragged across payment for 50 to 100 feet, causing a road rash on my legs that took two weeks to heal. I have been hit, kicked and punched as I slept on a futon. I was told that I was stupid and would never become anything and no one will ever love me (Still struggle with that last statement and so when some of you give me compliments, it is hard for me to take them serious). I was told by my mom she wished I was never born.

It took years for me to forgive my mother, but I do not forget. Imagine hearing an 8 year kid crying in a closet because his mother was coming to get him from his grandparents house saying “I wish I was dead.” I did that and my grandmother had to hear it after I would spend the weekend at their house. My mother has never apologized for what happened but only has mentioned what has happened once in a sleeping pill induced talk. I am great with reflection in my life. I know that some of my issues (body, self, confidence, delay understanding who I am) all relate to my past. I know some of my past has allowed me to become as successful in my career as I am today, but I think it has always delayed a lot of things for me.

One thing I should mention, about people who have been abused as a kid, we hide it all. No one knew this was going on, outside of my family and even they did not know all of it (just what they witnessed). I learned to have a fake smile to not show the pain inside. In a class in high school we read a book called “I Child Called It.” It was about a kid being abused and it meanted the fake smile. The other people in class disagree that a kid would do that. It got to me so much that I actually verbally told them they were wrong. When pressed why I believed it by the teacher, I said, and I quote because I remember, “Because I was abused and none of you knew because I always had a smile on my face.” The room went silent and we went to quiet reading time (but I was never called to the guidance office about it which is so strange). I learned to hide the injuries on my body and not let it show when I could not sit down (choose to stand) or walk well (saying I did not want to play). I learned to fend for myself. I could not have friends over so I lost friends from not being open (why I try to be open now but also why making friends is hard for me). I learned to lie to hide everything which lost me friends (that is why I am honest now but that always loses friends too).

I am not posting this for sympathy. I think it is time to stop hiding my past and letting it run my life. I still have trouble loving anyone fully. I have issues that I need to work through. I can’t let this define me anymore. (Note: I am crying about this right now because it is painful to talk about). I don’t talk about my religion much but it has helped me through much of it. It is why I struggled coming terms with who I am, sexuality wise, because I could not lose that part of my life.

Please do not act differently to me. When I have revealed this before to a friend, they acted like they had to walk on eggshells with me. It happened and I do deal with it daily in some way or shape. I still have mastered the fake smile and still hide my pain. But don’t let it change what you reblog, like, ask or message. I am still the person you already know, just know a little better.

#very personal post for dangerghost20 #might delete later but hoping I don't have to

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asifetch7 · 4 years

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Nameless - Chapter 1: Welcome to club ‘Downtown’.

Genre: Mafia AU, gang AU, BTS

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, BTS x Reader, BTS x BTS

Warnings: Cursing. Gang violence. Gun violence. Kidnapping. Angst. Future fluff. Future smut. Referenced suicide attempt.

—— Summery

Marco Polo is an Italian Korean gang that traveled through Asia and eventually settled in South-Korea. It is known for its multiple locations around the world with the three main ones in Sicily, Tokyo and now Seoul. Their name is of course inspired by Marco Polo, but also the radioactive chemical Polonium.

Their members are poisonous, according to Yoongi at least. Poisonous little fuckers who always appear when you least expect it. Marco Polo and Bangtan have been at each other's throat ever since the Italian gang decided to stay in Seoul. After the last gang war ended in a truce he thought he’d seen the last of them but as Yoongi steps into club Downtown he will come to find out that that can’t be further from the truth.

——

previous//one//next

“I just don’t understand why I need to be present for this meeting Namjoon.” Yoongi sighed as he looked from the window to his adviser on his left. He really wasn’t looking forward to discussing a new contract with one of his dealers. “It’s necessary for them to see that you’re not just working behind the scènes Yoongi. You haven’t shown your face in quite awhile. If you keep doing that some people will start to doubt your leadership,” Namjoon calmly explained.

Jimin huffed. “Which idiots are stupid enough to doubt him?” He asked while fixing the knife in his thigh holster. “The Carters, Youngs, Lees and Polos.” Taehyung summed up from the driver's seat. Jimin turned sideways to hit him on the shoulder. “We don’t talk about the Polos. Plus, we have a truce so why would they even bother?” “Don’t play dumb, Jiminie, a truce doesn’t mean shit if the other party looks weak,” Taeyhung stated.

Yoongi closed his eyes. “Can we not talk about the Polos for one night, please?” He asked as they pulled up to club ‘Downtown’. The guys grew silent. He took that as a yes and opened his door.

Jimin groaned as he stepped out of the car. “Eugh, these heels are going to give me ingrown toenails.” He put his right hand on Yoongi’s shoulder to keep himself from falling over while he tried to adjust his shoes. “Should’ve chosen a different pair then doll face,” Yoongi teased. The look Jimin gave him was anything but pleased. “These were the only ones that go with this outfit that YOU gave me, mister. So if I want to complain about the fact that the only pair that matched is too small, than you better prepare yourself for an earful.”

Grinning fondly at the assassin’s behavior Namjoon grabbed a bag from the trunk of the car and started walking away.

The group made their way to the cashier who stood right outside the doors of the club. “Name”, he asked without looking up.

“Agust D.”

That made the head of the boy shoot up immediately. Yoongi reveled in the way only a few letters could make people surrender to him. “King D, sir, my apologies.” The boy bowed a full 90 degrees and quickly signaled for the guards to open the doors.

They walked into the establishment and were immediately welcomed by a hostess dressed in a formal uniform. “Welcome to ‘Downtown’ King D, how can I help you and your party tonight?” She asked after bowing her head.

When she looked up her eyes dragged over Jimin’s form. He could almost hear the judgemental thoughts moving around inside her head and it really made him want to roll his eyes. Sadly, he had a reputation to maintain and they were here for business, not for petty fights.

“I have someone waiting for me at my usual booth.” Yoongi’s gruff voice snapped her attention back to him. She bowed again and started to lead the way. “Follow me then, please.”

“King D, welcome!” The dealer said loudly as he stood from the couch to move to one of the stools. Yoongi looked at him and already wanted to turn back around to go home. He really wasn’t looking forward to this.

“Thank you, Jung right?” He asked as he sat himself down with Jimin glued to his site. Jaehyun stuttered as his eyes landed on Jimin. “Yea-yes, Jung Jaehyun sir, from NCT.”

Namjoon joined Yoongi’s other side and laid the bag under the table. “I heard you wanted to discuss some adjustments for your contract with us?” “Yes, I have a ton of ideas and Taeyong said if I wanted them to happen I needed to talk to you.” Yoongi hummed and nodded towards Taehyung to close the curtains.

Always best to watch out for eavesdroppers.

“This here is your locker and you can find your clothing on the rack over there.” The manager of ‘Downtown’ pointed towards a neatly organized set of shelves at the left side of the room. “Your shift starts in thirty minutes so you should have enough time to choose a costume and get changed.”

You thanked him for the quick tour of the place and made your way to the clothes. “Oh, Yugyeom-nim-” “You can just call me Yugyeom, Ruby.” “Yugyeom ssi, is there a theme I should follow?”

The manager glanced around the room in thought and then looked you in the eyes. “I want them to cum in their pants the second they lay their eyes on you,” he deadpanned. You laughed, shaking your head and waved him away.

He moved to open the door, “Make me proud tonight Ruby.” With that he left the room.

You sighed as you grabbed a few items and went into one of the changing rooms. The small room had mirrors on all three walls which made it easy to get a full view of your body. After struggling with the thigh high socks and screwing up your make-up three times, you finally looked at yourself. Damn, if this doesn’t do the job then I might as well go home.

You had chosen to go with an innocent, white angel look and it wasn’t even half bad. The lingerie fitted you perfectly and the heels, even though highly uncomfortable, really pushed the picture of purity you were looking for.

Looking at the clock you saw that you only had five minutes left. You grabbed a pill from your make-up bag and put it in the small pocket of your robe. With one final glance in the mirror you let your mind fall into your character and walked out of the room.

The red ruby on your neck seemed to shine as it reflected the lights from the stage. Your red lips moved into a charming smile when you spotted your target sitting in a private booth.

Let’s get this mission accomplished.

Resisting the urge to yawn Jimin forced himself to look around. He couldn’t see much because of the curtains but he could still make out the bar. Yes, that’s exactly what he needed to get through this dull meeting.

Alcohol.

He tapped Yoongi on the shoulder and leaned towards his ear. “Hey, I’m going to get a drink, do you want anything?” Yoongi kissed him on the cheek. “You know what I want dollface.”

Nodding, Jimin got out of the booth and walked to the bar where you were standing with Jackson.

“Ruby, I’m serious. Just one date, please?” Jackson pouted at you. Laughing softly you shook your head at him. “The answer always has been and will forever be no Jackson.”

“Pretty, pretty, pretty please?” He whined. “Why would you even want to go on a date with me? You’ve got like half of the female population after your ass,” you said as you pointed towards some girls ogling at him from the end of the bar. He looked at you with puppy eyes.

“But you’re the only one I want to actually capture it. I mean look at you,” his demeanor changed as his eyes roamed over your body from head to toe. “Who wouldn’t want you chasing their behind?”

You grabbed your tray from the counter to hit him with, only to be interrupted by a giggle from your right.

“I mean he’s kind of right. You look gorgeous.” A voice said as you turned around.

Wow.

The guy in front of you could only be described as an ethereal being. He looked like one of those Greek gods from the paintings that your teacher always wanted you to analyze. A Korean Greek god? Maybe even a goddess considering the way he was dressed.

“Thank you but I look rather bland in comparison to you.” You nodded towards his dress and he smiled brightly. “It looks really pretty on you and does amazing things for your thighs.” You emphasized. He looked down and flexed his muscle making you both giggle.

“Yes, yes, you’re both extremely hot but Rubyyyy,” Jackson continued to whine, “you still haven’t answered my question.” Rolling your eyes you turned back around. “No Jackson. There ya have it. A simple, direct no.” He began pouting again.

“How many more times are you going to ask me out?” You asked as you put the tray back on the counter. “As many times as it takes for you to say yes.” He smiled sweetly. “Eugh, I’m done with you. Serve some drinks so I can do my job.” “I thought your job was to shake what your momma gave ya and make it rain.” You glared at him but before you could do any serious damage to his body a hand got placed on the counter.

“I’d actually like to order a few drinks for table P3.” You looked at Jimin from the corner of your eye and thanked him silently with a smile. “Sure thing hotstuff, which beverages do you desire?” Scoffing at the nickname Jimin ordered a few drinks. He winked at you before he walked away, swaying to the beat of the music.

“Now THAT is an ass worth chasing Jackson.” You smirked teasingly. He watched your eyes follow Jimin to his booth. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you, no one can touch the gem of Bangtan.” Your head snapped to him and he laughed at your expression. “Come again? Bangtan is sitting there?” He nodded his head. “I think even King D is present, something about making appearances.”

This mission just got a whole lot more complicated.

“Take this to them will ya?” Jackson asked as he placed the ordered drinks on your tray. You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself before grabbing the tray and walking towards what could be your final job.

“... and that’s why I think either the dosage needs to become higher or the price needs to go lower.” Yoongi just catched the end of Jaehyun’s speech. Maybe he should’ve payed more attention to it but it didn’t matter anyway, the things he was asking for were just ridiculous.

“Listen, Jung, I respect you coming here and actually asking for those kind of changes in person.” The dealer’s face lit up and he saw that his chest puffed out a little in pride. “However,” Yoongi looked him in the eyes and saw Jaehyun’s posture crumble from his cold stare, “upping the dosages of my drugs? Lowering the prices? You’ve got to have some serious balls to even think of such absurd ideas.”

He was really regretting coming here and wasting a perfectly good evening on this bullshit.

So when he saw Taehyung opening the curtains he kind of hoped someone had called him in for an emergency. Sadly, that wasn’t the truth. “Boss, your drinks are here.” He signaled to let them in. A squeal was heard from beside him and he looked at Jimin with confusion written all over his face. He knew he loved alcohol but was it truly worth all that noise?

“Ruby!” He half-shouted in his excitement. You looked up at the call of your name and smiled at Jimin when you saw him making grabby hands for the Raspberry Cosmopolitan in your hand. He thanked you when you handed the sweet drink to him. “Your an actual angel, darling.” He said gratefully after taking a generous sip.

“I’ve got a Gin Negroni,” Namjoon put his hand up and you placed the drink in front of him, “and a Black Russian.” You glanced at Yoongi and saw him roam his eyes over your body. After placing the drink on the table you stood back up. You could still feel his eyes on you as you turned to walk away.

“What? No drink for me sweet cheeks?” Jaehyun asked as he pulled at the strings of your robe, making it fall open. You heard a barely contained scuff from Jimin. “I’m sorry baby but this was all that was ordered,” you said with a sugary sweet voice. He pouted at you.

“Could you at least keep me some company then? Cause I’m still quite thirsty and you look like a fine, tall glass of water.”

Oh honey, no.

You tried not to feel disgusted with yourself as you forced a giggle out of your mouth. “Well, if you insist.”

Yoongi watched as you put down your tray and sat sideways on the dealer’s lap who looked like a kid on Christmas morning. You laid your left arm around his shoulders and started tracing figures on his chest with your right hand.

“What’s your name pretty?” Jaehyun asked breathlessly as you moved around trying to find a comfortable spot in his lap, putting pressure on his groin. “They call me Ruby,” you purred in his ear, “what do you go by, hmm, daddy?” He tightened his hold on your thigh and smirked. “It’s Jung Jaehyun, baby, but you can call me anything you want in that outfit of yours.”

What about an extremely repulsive asshole?

Instead of voicing your thoughts you just giggled again and fluttered your eyelashes at him. “I think I’ll keep calling you daddy then.” You moved to straddle his lap but were interrupted by a cough.

“Jung, do you want to keep talking or are you gonna keep wasting my time?” Yoongi said, grabbing his drink and sipping it slowly. Jimin was already done with his Cosmopolitan and just started eyeing the flower design on your lingerie. Namjoon was on his phone, probably looking for other meetings or events where he needed to be present. Taehyung still stood outside the curtains, hands behind his back.

Yoongi had other ideas for where he could place them but he was still sitting on this stupid couch, talking to someone who clearly wasn’t interested in selling his ideas anymore.

God, what a fucking merry dance.

His annoyed tone seemed to grab Jaehyun’s attention though and the dealer quickly pulled your arm from his neck, shooting you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry baby but I’ve gotta do some business.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. This guy really thought he was a big deal, didn’t he?

“Really?” You asked with pouting lips. Jaehyun nodded and padded your ass to get you off his lap. You stood up and slipped your hands in your robe. “Let me give you one of my goodbye kisses then, daddy.” He grinned and pulled you back by your wrist. “I would gladly receive one of those angel.” You giggled and grabbed his face in your hands.

You started with little kisses on his throat, slipping the pill out of your left hand and right into your mouth. Then you kissed him passionately and invaded his mouth with your tongue when he groaned.

The pill on your tongue was easily delivered in the back of the target’s throat. You prolonged the kiss to keep him distracted before finally pulling away. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Jaehyun swallowed when your lips moved from his. You smiled sweetly at him and stood up from his lap, gathering the empty glasses on your tray.

Yoongi catched your eye and you saw the lust floating around behind them. You turned your back to him and walked towards the curtains, giving your target one last sultry glance. He was still watching you with rapt attention. Taehyung opened the curtains for you and you laughed softly as you stept out of their booth.

Enjoy the ride, boys.

“So, where were we gentleman?” Jaehyun asked as he not-so-subtly tried to rearrange his pants. “I was about to send you home with a broken finger, rib or toe. Your choice.” Yoongi said as he sipped the last of his Black Russian, not looking bothered by his statement at all.

The dealer on the other hand choked on air and dropped to his knees immediately. “I’m so sorry if I offended you sir. Please accept my deepest apologies. I was a fool to ask for such idiotic changes.” He rushed to say while bowing with his head on the ground. A laugh escaped Yoongi as he stood up, only to crouch down in front of the guy. “You see Jung, the changes aren’t really the issue here. Sure, it was still stupid to even ask but I won’t let Jimin dismantle your bones for that.”

He looked back at the mentioned assassin and was met with a wicked smile.

“The problem is the fact that you let a woman interrupt your business deal like that. I don’t think Taeyong will be very happy with that when he finds out. You also disregarded my warning when I asked you to stop wasting my time.” He stood back up with a groan. “Instead of sending her away, like I expected you to do, you gave her a ‘goodbye kiss’. Quite a show if I may add, but that doesn’t change the fact that you did it in front of me. In front of my crew. A crew that has better things to do than watch you french an escort.”

“Hey, don’t call Ruby an escort,” Jimin complained softly from behind him. “She’s really sweet.” Yoongi turned around and gave him an unimpressed look. “You really want to argue about that right now dollface?” Jimin huffed and crossed his arms but said nothing. “Thought so.”

“Euhm, boss?” Namjoon asked, concern clear in his voice. “What?” Yoongi said as he turned back around to the dealer still on the floor. “Oh, that’s not good.”

Jaehyun lay sprawled out in a small puddle of blood and… Is that foam? Yoongi took a step closer to see where the substance was coming from. He didn’t find any marks on the body but when the dealer started choking his attention went to his mouth and that’s when he saw it.

A mixture of blood, spit and foam was slowly making its way onto the ground. “Any idea why this is happening Namjoon?” He asked while stepping back to join Jimin who was now standing near the curtains. “No, he just started bleeding from his mouth I guess.” “You guess? Are you serious?” Namjoon glared at him. “He had his head on the ground the entire time, what do you expect from me? Being able to look through his skull to see what’s happening?”

“Taehyung, get in here,” Yoongi called. The captain quickly made his way inside. His eyes looked around the room before landing on the dying man in front of him. “Planned, accident or not involved?” Was the only thing he asked as he looked at Yoongi. “Not involved so the only option is that escort Ruby. Shutdown the whole club. I don’t want anyone going in or out until we have her in our possession.”

Taehyung nodded and went back outside while conversing with someone through his earpiece.

Yoongi let out a heavy sigh. “This night just keeps on being really fucking annoying.” Jimin looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “It will be alright baby. We’ll be in bed before you know it.” “I hope you’re ready to say goodbye to your sweet Ruby.” He said. “Honestly if she did it I don’t even hold it against her,” Jimin shrugged. “That guy was just disrespectful and nasty.” He stuck his tongue out making Yoongi laugh.

“True, but I don’t like the fact that she did it so close to us. What if she plans to do something to one of us in the future? I’d rather not die while foaming from the mouth.” He grabbed Jimin’s hand and made his way out of the booth. Namjoon took the bag out from under the table and followed after them.

They all halted their steps when Taehyung’s voice made itself present in their ears.

“Got her.”

This night was far from over.

Exiting the booth you focused on maintaining a normal walking pace. You placed the tray with empty glasses on the counter and waved your hand at Jackson. “Hey, I’m going to reapply my makeup for a second.” He nodded at you. “Sure thing.”

After slamming the door of the dressing room behind you and leaning against it, you finally felt like you could breathe.

Okay, y/n, calm down.

You took a deep breath and started to change into your black outfit. It was still classy enough to not stand out in the club crowd but since it was completely black you could easily disappear in the dead of night.

Looking around the room you spotted an empty trashcan. You grabbed your angel outfit and threw it in there with the content of one of the many perfume bottles on the dresser. Lighting up a few matches you tossed them in one by one, watching as the fire consumed the white lace.

Bye-bye, sweet angel.

When you opened the door you were met with chaos. Turns out that little drug Lisa sold you worked faster than you thought. You quickly made your way towards the emergency exit, vanishing from sight between panicked clubgoers. With one foot outside of the door your mind already started celebrating pulling off another mission unnoticed.

Since your mind was elsewhere occupied, it didn’t give out alarm signals for the figure watching you from the shadows.

You were just a few meters away from the club when you were harshly pulled into an alley. Out of reflex your legs instantly kicked out at whoever was trying to get you off of the street. You heard a groan coming from your attacker and tried to turn around but the hold they had on you was too tight.

Suddenly you felt an enormous pain in your stomach which made you double over. “Motherfucker.” You coughed as you tried to regain balance. Your attacker didn’t give you a chance though as they punched your jaw hard, making your vision go black. The last thing you heard was a low, honeyed voice.

“Got her.”

...

When you woke up all you could see was…

Nothing.

You couldn’t see shit. Everything was dark. Black. Unlit. You tried moving your hands but were met with resistance. The same happened when you struggled to separate your feet. Wiggling your body was all you could do so you tried to move around a bit.

Out of nowhere you were swerved to the right. The sudden movement made your body hurl itself against the side of something hard.

Great, they threw me in the trunk.

So wiggling like a fish was of no use and trying to figure out where you were, was also useless since you didn’t know how long you were out for. What you did know, was that you were attacked in an alley back at Downtown, got knocked out and thrown in the trunk of a car driven by some lunatic.

Seriously, who swerves this fucking much?

As you closed your eyes again, you could only hope that your kidnappers would soon arrive at their location.

“Tell me why we let Joonie drive again?” Jimin asked as he fell on Yoongi for the tenth time. “Because while Tae was busy putting Ruby in the trunk and you and I were talking to Jackson, he decided to get in the driver’s seat,” Yoongi said. “Like the genius he is,” he added, sarcasm filling every word.

“Oh shut up,” Namjoon hissed, “it’s not that bad.” Taehyung laughed loudly. “You almost make me pity the poor woman. I hope for her that she’s still knocked out.”

Jimin squeezed Yoongi’s hand, making him look his way. “Do you really think she did it?” He asked seriously. “Afraid so, love. You saw the footage. I don’t know how she did it, but I think we’ll find out tonight.” Jimin nodded and started drawing patterns on his hand.

“I’m sorry, dollface. I thought this would be a calm night.” Yoongi said as he kissed Jimin’s cheek. “It’s okay, we can go back to the club another time. Let’s just say you owe me a peaceful night.” He shrugged. Yoongi smirked at him. “I don’t think any night with you would be described as peaceful.”

Jimin giggled and pulled his face towards him to place a sweet peck on his lips. It turned into a passionate kiss quickly, making both of them smile.

“I’d hate to interrupt you two, but we’ve got a woman to interrogate.” Namjoon said as he drove into the garage of the gang’s mansion.

“Let’s get this night over with boys.”

The second time you opened your eyes the light situation hadn’t changed. Your limbs were still tied together but this time you weren’t rolling around in the back of a car. This time you were sitting up on an uncomfortable, solid chair.

Your ears picked up a few voices speaking in Korean, voices that you recognized.

“If she doesn’t wake up in the next minute I’m emptying this bottle over her head.”

“Agust, no, what did that champagne ever do to you?”

“We’ve got enough of these in our stock, dollface, I will just grab another one for you.”

Bangtan. Your kidnappers were Bangtan.

You can work with that y/n.

You coughed and the voices immediately stopped talking.

Yoongi turned around with the champagne bottle still in his hand. The girl, Ruby, was tied to a chair in front of him. He couldn’t see her eyes because of the blindfold, but her head was aimed straight towards him.

“Did y’all disappear or something? Thought I was about to be showered with expensive champagne.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to Ruby?” He asked, trying to keep his tone cold and low.

She tilted her head. “Not really. Don’t know if you’ve noticed but my eyesight is kind of blocked at the moment.”

Jimin giggled softly and quickly covered his mouth when Yoongi glared at him. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispered with a smile.

Yoongi signaled to Taehyung to remove the blindfold. He yanked it off her head and threw it to the side before standing next to her chair. Her eyes went to him first and then focused on the couple in front of her.

He saw her eyes widen as they found Jimin’s. “Oh, hi, I remember you cutie.” She smiled at him and Jimin…

Jimin blushed. He fucking blushed from a nickname of one of their captives.

“That must make you, euhmm, King D?” She asked him.

He looked at her again. “Yes.”

She laughed, making Yoongi even more confused than he already was.

“King D. What does that stand for, King Dickface? King Dipshit? King Deficiente?” She completely cracked up at this point.

Yoongi grabbed her jaw and squeezed it tightly until she stopped laughing. “What’s about to happen to you is not very funny, Ruby, so I’d try to keep my mouth shut if I were you,” he said. Ruby yanked her head out of his grip and looked at him. “Fine, I won’t laugh but let me just say that you should really change your name.”

“I don’t think I will, seeing as it’s feared all around the world,” he stated. There was a tiny bit of pride noticeable in his voice. He worked hard to get to the point where just his name made people crumble. Yoongi often wondered if the sacrifices he made were all worth it but those thoughts would only lead him on a path of doubts he’d rather not walk. Usually he got sidetracked by alcohol or sex before he could get stuck in the vicious circle of what if’s.

“Feared by the entire world? Was that really what you wanted to be when you were a child?” She asked him with a sudden note of seriousness in her tone. He looked away as he thought about it. “If I wanted to talk about my childhood I would’ve snatched a therapist and not an escort.”

Ruby scoffed at that. “Escort? If you wanted to have sex you could’ve just asked.”

“Yeah? Like how that dead guy asked for a goodbye kiss? I don’t think he knew how literal you would take it,” Yoongi said.

He watched her patiently, waiting for a reaction that would show she was guilty and indeed killed Jung Jaehyun.

For awhile she just looked at him. Studying him as he studied her.

“He asked for a goodbye kiss and I gave him one,” she eventually said. “I don’t understand what that has to do with you kidnapping me and since it’s getting quite late I would like to know what you want from me.”

“Let’s start with your name,” Yoongi said. This could become interesting, he thought as he sat down besides Jimin on the couch opposite of the girl.

“Ruby.”

“No, I don’t believe that’s your name. Well, it’s your stage name or whatever it is called that you escorts use. I want to know your real name.”

“Ruby,” she answered again.

“It’s gonna be like that, huh?” Yoongi asked. The girl stayed still and blinked at him with uninterested eyes, clearly not anticipating his next move. He nodded his head towards Taehyung, who slowly took out his gun and pointed it at her head. She turned her head towards Taehyung and winked at him.

“Colt Python, lovely choice.”

Taehyung stayed silent and just stared at her.

“No? Nothing? You don’t really talk much. A bit rude to ignore the person you punched in the gut but you do you, I guess.” She shrugged and turned her head back to Yoongi.

Jimin was still watching her from the couch, listening to the conversation. He saved all the information she gave away in his head. So far he didn’t have much but she had to be part of some type of gang. She knew who they were, had obvious knowledge of weapons and was definitely trained in some type of martial arts if the way Taehyung had been limping was anything to go by.

“So, King Douche, I don’t think I’m here to have a cup of tea with you and discuss this weeks latest gossip. Could you get on with it and tell me how I offended the man who is feared around the world?” She asked with her words full of sarcasm.

Yoongi decided to take another route. Just being in their presence didn’t seem to be effective but threatening one's life always did the trick.

"I could kill you right now, you know? So I'd watch that pretty mouth of yours sweetheart."

"Kay? The ability to kill me is nothing impressive and it's also not the best threat, you wanna know why, handsome?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him and tilted her head slightly to the right, becoming the perfect picture of innocence. God, the things Yoongi could do to destroy that he thought as he scoffed loudly.

"Yes, I would love to know how this does not look like a threat to you," he said, smiling to himself as Taehyung placed the barrel of his gun against her temple.

"It's cause my neighbors could kill me if they wanted to, the cute bartender from Downtown could too, hell even I could kill myself. Believe it or not I tried to, but as you can see my attempts have been rather futile."

She stared him right in the eyes and Yoongi felt himself get lost in those green pools of every emotion but the one he expected. He saw no fear, distress, surprise or even anger. Not even disgust. No, it was hard to get an idea of what was going on behind the windows to her soul. Did she even have one? Because having a soul meant having a mind, a mind that's supposed to be able to think rationally. A mind that's supposed to be giving signals to her body that she is in danger right now.

Still, all he saw was mischief, courage, calmness, even boredom. Boredom of all things. The girl had a fucking gun to her head, was tied down to a chair with nowhere to go and she had the audacity to look bored.

She took him out of his thoughts when he started seeing her mouth move again, tongue rolling around to create syllables to words no one had ever dared to speak to him.

"Killing doesn't make you powerful because anyone can do it. Even a little kid could take a knife in their hands and push it somewhere in to your body. It's the ones that survive that knife you need to watch out for. As the brilliant Kelly Clarkson once said: 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger'."

"I don't think you got the point though, sweetheart. All the power in this room right now belongs to me. I-"

"No, it doesn't and no, I most certainly did get the point. I know that you call the shots here but that's exactly it. After you let blondie over here shoot me, I go on my merry way to meet dear old Luci. So my mind won't be here anymore but I still hold the power over your next decision."

Taehyung scoffed when he heard the nickname and flicked his hair, this only provoked a giggle out of the girl. He was getting annoyed, no scratch that, he was annoyed and was starting to get angry. He brought his finger closer to the trigger. God, did he want her to stop talking and smiling like she wasn't about to be bleeding out on this floor.

Yoongi on the other hand only got more intrigued. The way the girl spoke freely to him was new and unfamiliar. Only his inner circle could talk to him like that and even then he usually got irritated by it. This girl right here, who still hadn't told him her fucking name, was a mystery to him and Yoongi didn't like mysteries. He wasn't here to play clues but still he sat there, on his velvet seat, trying to figure out the impeccable woman in front of him.

"Why do you think you have any power over any decision I make, huh?" He wasn't any closer to getting information from her and it started to get at him. The night had been tiring enough and his patience was running extremely thin at this point.

"Cause when I'm here, bleeding out on this floor, you're going to have to decide what to do with my body. Within the first hour you will need to think about it. Even if you don't acknowledge it with words and just a head nod to Jung Hoseok over there. It's still gonna be me you're thinking about."

As her little speech came to an end everyone gaped at her. Then she suddenly felt a gust of wind in front of her. She started breathing through her nose as soon as she felt fingers tightening around her throat.

"Tell me how you know that name," Yoongi demanded in a cold and deadly voice that usually had everyone scrambling to their knees to do everything he pleases. But not the girl in front of him, no, she looked him straight in the eye and smirked.

"Marco Polo, bitch."

#bts #bts gang au #bts x reader #bts x bts #fanfic #fiction #mafia #yoongi x reader

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inspirationdivine · 4 years

Text

Take My Hand || Remmy and Lydia

Timing: Current Parties: @whatsin-yourhead @inspirationdivine Summary: Lydia and Remmy take time to talk wounds and fears. Remmy comes home Triggers: Mention of food poisoning, head trauma

Lydia’s phone buzzed with a picture of Remmy at the front gate. She was lying on a recliner in her garden, with a glass of lemonade. She had a large evening gown on, covering the brown thick chitinous layer that had covered her back. She was settled on her front with a parasol and very dark shades. It was a step up from a few days ago, certainly, but the pain that raked her body was still unbearable. She looked up at one of her security guards standing just enough feet away to not be looming, but close enough to feel secure. Unfortunately, he was The Mime, and wasn’t a great conversationalist. “Can you go and get Remmy and invite them into the garden, please?”

Remmy had let Morgan drop them off halfway down the block and walked-- well, walked at first, then broke into a paranoid sprint a few seconds later-- up to Lydia’s place. They needed to learn to be okay being outside again, that they were safe. That, yes, something could happen, but they would be okay. Everything would be okay. Remmy rung the bell, flowers tight in their hands-- Nell had given them a nice assortment, some white, some gold, a few purple-- and waited, looking up at the camera she’d had installed. Gave a little wave. After a moment, a stoic, silent man opened the door and ushered them in. They followed slowly at first, before their eyes caught the staircase-- and remembered nail marks and bloody footprints-- and the hallway-- where there had been a pool of blood large enough to slip on-- and the doorway-- that had sagged with its broken frame-- and they scurried faster, past it all, and out into the garden where the man pointed them. Lydia was on a recliner, seemingly basking in the warm sun. She looked relaxed, if a bit tired, but Remmy knew better. “I um--” they looked over at her gadren, where flowers were sprouting, then down at the ones in their hands, “--brought you flowers.”

Lydia pushed herself up onto her elbows to look at Remmy with a soft smile. The blackened bruising had turned yellow on her face, at least. Dr. Oakfield was happy with the healing of her hand, ankle, and the fracture along her jawline. Seeing Remmy in the flesh was different than seeing them as icons in the screen. She knew they weren’t going out much at the moment, that they weren’t leaving Deirdre’s house often at all. To see them here, at the site of two of their recent traumas? It was astounding, and a tragedy, and a reminder of how much she’d failed them. “Thank you darling. Mime, could you possibly pull out the other recliner?Wonderful.” Why was his uniform the only one that was striped? How was he supposed to blend in like that? Lydia had no idea, and no desire to ask. He was the easiest to ask to do errant chores, that was for certain. “How have you been, Remmy?”

Remmy felt their eyes scan Lydia’s face before they managed to look away. It pained them to see her like that. If they’d just stayed with her, this wouldn’t have happened. If they’d just been able to get over themself, they couldn’t been there to stop whoever did this. Their hand tightened momentarily on the flowers, before the Mime dragged a chair over to them and they sat in it. He took the flowers and put them in a vase. Remmy didn’t like looking at him. They turned to focus back on Lydia. She was smiling, but they knew she was in pain. After all the kindness she’d given them, they’d failed her in her one time of need, and now they had no idea what they were supposed to do. “Um...better, I guess?” they shrugged, looked down at their stomach, swallowed. “No one’s tried to gut me recently, so that’s nice.”

“No one has drowned me this week, so things must be on the up,” Lydia replied with a blasé smile she didn’t quite feel. She held out her hand, which was almost entirely healed by now, for them to take. “I love you, you know. I hope you’re finding what you need at Deirdre and Morgan’s.” Lydia hadn’t, but that was because in those five days at the doctor’s, a new pain had grown, radiating out from her chest. It had started dull, and had grown sharply with each passing day. To be away from the humans she had attached herself to was as painful for her as it was for them, and when she’d returned, she’d held them close until that pain had healed. She felt no safer here than she did at Deirdre’s, but this was the place she could keep her secrets.

Remmy took Lydia’s hand and fought back the urge to squeeze it. It looked like it still might hurt, even if it was healing alright. They looked over at her, not all too surprised by her nonchalance about being attacked, although they knew the fear was still there. They knew because it was still there for them, too. In their gut. Their chest. Their fingertips. They shifted in their spot. “I know, Lydia,” they said quietly, “I love you, too.” They didn’t know how to answer the second part, because they didn’t know what they were looking for over at Morgan and Deirdre’s. Safety, they supposed, but if they could’ve been poisoned inside Lydia’s home by someone they trusted, what was stopping anyone from doing that over there, too? “I’m...trying.” They glanced sideways. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

In a single breath, Remmy reminded Lydia just why she loved them so much, and why at the same time she wanted to shake them. THey really did have a truly pure heart, and it was a terrible thing that that was killing them. “I don’t think that was an accident, Remmy. I think a night was chosen where you weren’t there deliberately, so that I was alone and helpless. Which is why I’m paying multiple people to ensure that isn’t the case ever again. Even if one of them is, well, a mime. Turns out they’re much more frightening than I had given them credit for.” Lydia squeezed Remmy’s hand tightly. “It’s not your job nor your duty to be everywhere to protect everyone. Don’t apologise for having a life, Remmy. I’m sorry that this has made things worse for you.”

Remmy was silent. They watched Lydia as she talked, but their brain hadn’t come up with anything to say yet. She always had a way with words, always knew what to say to them. And even if it didn’t immediately make them feel better, they knew they were true. They squeezed her hand back. “You know I did used to work security,” they teased quietly, shifting a little closer. They almost wished they could lay down next to Lydia and just feel the warmth of another person beside them. “If I can’t apologize then neither can you. This wasn’t your fault, either. It was just...shit timing, I guess.” And shit circumstance. If Remmy ever saw whoever did this to Lydia, they weren’t sure they’d be able to hold back the anger and pain this had caused. They stiffened a moment before letting their muscles relax. “But we’re both okay. We both survived. And Morgan found out who tried to--” they stopped mid-sentence, shook their head. “Who did that to me and is making sure it’ll never happen again.” Whatever that meant.

“Mm, but I’d enjoy your company much more as a friend than as someone towering behind me.” Lydia replied with a soft laugh, shifting her weight slightly on the recliner, so that she was almost resting on her side rather than her front, elbow propping her up. She nodded, conceding their point. “Fine, I won’t apologise anymore,” Lydia said with a small smile. “Shit timing sums it all up. But with the fence being installed and all the extra security, we’ll keep this place safe as can be.” Just not safe enough by either of their standards, not anymore. “Morgan found out who it was? Who was it, Remmy?”

Remmy quieted. How were they supposed to tell Lydia they didn’t feel safe in her home anymore? How were they supposed to believe she did? How had people so easily ruined that for them both? They squeezed her hand subconsciously and glanced away. “Yeah, it does. It will. Be safe again…” they rubbed at their face with their free hand and felt the patch still on their eye. How many months had it been? Since Morgan died. When would any of them get a break? “It was-- “ they started, then stopped, “someone I thought was a friend. It’s...it’s okay, though. It won’t happen again.” The thought of it stung their chest and Remmy thought of Nadia and her smile and her motorcycle and the betrayal that had seated itself in their heart from her actions. “I just wanna...move on.”

For all their many virtues, Remmy wasn’t a convincing person when they weren’t convinced. How could they be, when Lydia barely was. “We’ll figure it out. In time. There’s always a home for you here, Remmy. You don’t have to use it, but it is always here for you.” But in her gaze, even through the sunglasses, it was apparent that Lydia would understand why Remmy wanted to stay away. They’d seemed so light when the collar had come off, but even then, the poisonous vines of their PTSD had lingered, and it had only been exacerbated now. They needed help, and Lydia was no longer the best person to give it. “I’m so sorry, my love. But that’s alright. We can move on.”

“I hope so,” Remmy said under a whisper, hoping Lydia’s words would sink in further and actually take root. They hadn’t yet, but maybe soon. Maybe soon. They sat a little closer, held her hand just a little tighter. “How do you do it?” they asked after a long silence, chancing a look over at her. They couldn’t quite see her eyes behind her sunglasses, and if this was pushing her too much, but they needed an answer. They needed to know what to do next. “Stay here? Isn’t it-- don’t you--” see him everywhere? Did his shadow not exist inside her mind, everywhere she looked? Remmy’s shadow never left them alone. They were everywhere and everything and everyone. “Will it get easier, you think? Staying here?”

Lydia took a deep breath, that rattled through her chest, trying to think of an answer that might satisfy the truth, and satisfy Remmy. “I see him everywhere,” Lyda agreed. “I can’t use the bathroom in which he drowned me anymore. I can’t-” Lydia paused, “I can’t stand the sound of Chopin, which has a certain ring of irony.” She laughed weakly. “But it hurts more to be away than it does to be here. He took my wing, I can’t let him take my home.” She rubbed her temples, her smile wavering into grief. “I hope it does. It has to. I will do anything in my power to make this place feel safe for me.”

Something ached deep down inside of Remmy and they curled their knees up to the chest, holding onto their legs tight with their free hand. “Why do people do things like that?” they asked absentmindedly. It wasn’t really directed at Lydia, a thought that just drifted from their mind into the ether. “Why do people hurt other people?” They remembered the first time they’d been asked to hurt someone. It was a gun and a quick pull trigger and it was to protect someone else. It had still felt violent and wrong. Every shot after hurt more. Sometimes their bones still ached at the thought. “Would it feel safer if I came back?”

“I think it made him feel powerful,” Lydia quietly, although she wasn’t convinced Remmy had been looking for an answer. It wasn’t as if Lydia wasn’t asking herself that constantly, from the moment she’d realised he was following her. Sure, the first meeting had been chance, but what had she done to draw so much of his attention? It was more than the promise, more than her faeness. Something about her screamed target of a serial killer Russian vampire, and Lydia had no idea how to even begin to work out what. Remmy’s question gave her pause, as she stared into the far distance, trying to work out what the true answer was, and what the answer Remmy needed was. Whether she could make them overlap. Did Remmy want to feel useful? Or were they just offering to feel better themselves? “I don’t want you to come back to make me feel safer. You’re not my shield, Remmy, you’re my friend. You’re like family.”

That was true of a lot of people, wasn’t it? The need to feel powerful. It was why Remmy had fought in the Ring, wasn’t it? Why they’d kept going back to that place? It gave them power. It gave them purpose. As much as they hated the thought now, it had been true at one point. It grated their insides to know that. “I just want to feel like I’m good for something,” they finally said, not looking over at her, “that I’m not just wasted space.” That they kept surviving these things for a reason. There had to be a reason they were the one that got bit, right? That they were the one who woke up. That they were the one who Jax chose to save when he could have let that gargoyle tear them apart and be none the worse for it. That they were the one who had survived being poisoned. There had to be a reason for it all. “You’re my family, too, Lydia. I’d be so lost without you.”

“Why do you think you’re wasted space?” Lydia asked softly, squeezing Remmy’s hand as much as she could. “I don’t mean that to tell you you shouldn’t feel like that, I want to understand why.” They had been through so many things, and Lydia had seen as each one had torn them apart a little more. For someone supposedly so indestructible, they had been so close to destroyed so many times. “Don’t worry, you won’t lose me.”

“Because I’m not--” Remmy started, unsure of how to explain. “I’m not the best at anything, or like...the smartest. I can’t do magic like Cece to help and I’m not good at talking like Morgan. Everyone has these qualities that make them better and good people, and I’m just--” useless, as their father had said. A waste of space. Underachieving, below average grades, no extra cirriculars. Remmy had never been extraordinary, had never stood out. So why did they keep getting these chances? “--I don’t know why it was me that woke up that day. I don’t know why I got to live and everyone else had to die when I can’t do anything to help anyone.”

“Is Morgan good at talking?” Lydia scoffed slightly. The woman was excellent at projecting her assumptions on other people, and if that was what some considered empathy, well. That was concerning. Lydia didn’t see it that way at all. Despite that small interjection, she was listening to Remmy, trying to piece it all together. It was so very human of them. Everything had to have order and reason. Everything had to have a purpose, even them. Lydia wouldn’t say it, but it was a truth about Fae, they saw the world as it was. Chaotic, unpredictable. There didn’t have to be rhyme or reason to random perturbations. “Can I ask you something?” Lydia said softly. “Is it not enough to bring joy and comfort to other people’s lives?”

Lydia was being oddly quiet and Remmy could feel the anxiety buzzing under their skin, like little bugs. They worried they’d said too much or said something wrong. They were so used to putting themself in a little box and tucking in the corner. They had to always live such a contained life. Make themself small so they didn’t take up space and disturb the people around them. Being invisible was better than being hurt. Taking up space without having a purpose meant they should be punished. So when Lydia asked her question, they didn’t have an answer. Not one that they liked and not one that they wanted to tell her. “It doesn’t feel like enough. How-- I--” they looked over at her. “I wish I was like you. I wish I’d known about this world earlier. I want-- I want so bad to help people, but I don’t know how. And no one ever let’s me. They all look at me with those sad eyes, like I’m too fragile.”

Lydia smiled softly. "So what I hear is that you're being unkind to yourself for circumstances outside your control." There was a delectable irony to her commenting on that, she knew, as her friends had made clear many times. The attack wasn't her fault, they had explained, over and over. Similarly, Remmy not knowing until recently that this world even existed was not their fault. "Remmy, you have so much time to learn and change. You'll get there, one day. But the truth is that you're new to this, and you are still struggling with the recent terrible things that happened to you. Both of those things are okay. Both take time. It's important for you to help yourself too, right?"

“I--” Remmy started, but paused mid word when the thought hit them and they realized-- Lydia was right. She kind of always was. They knew she was, but convincing themself was a whole other thing. They wanted to try though. For Lydia, they wanted to try. They scooted over closer to her, turning to look at her, this time square in the eyes. They weren’t often good at that, meeting others’ eyes, but they knew this was important to say to her, face to face. “I want to move back in with you. You’re-- you feel like home. And I-- want all those things you said. To help myself, to be...to get better.”

Lydia held Remmy’s gaze for as long as they were comfortable. Eye contact was easy for her, but she knew it wasn’t for them, so she tried to keep her look mild and welcoming here. “I want you here.” Lydia replied, squeezing Remmy’s hand. “You have all the time you want in the world. We’ll heal together, hm?” One step at a time. They deserved someone they could trust unconditionally.

#wickedswriting #para #chatzy #remmy

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crow-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Dark

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dazai Osamu & Kunikida Doppo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Kunikida Doppo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Whumptober 2020, Power Outage, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Caring Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Even if he doesn't admit it, Chuuya-Typical Swearing Series: Part 7 of Soukoku Whumptober 2020 Summary:

An ability user causes a sudden power outage. Dazai and Kunikida go to investigate and meet Chuuya, who's in a rough shape.

Ao3

The lights go out. Dazai blinks into the sudden darkness. Huh.

He sighs as he hears Kunikida get up. He really shouldn't have let himself get pulled into an allnighter. After a bit of rustling and some annoyed muttering, he hears the telltale click of a flashlight being turned on. Except there is still no light. "What the-?" That's Kunikida. "I made sure the batteries are at full capacity." Dazai yawns audibly. "Maybe you made a mistake?"

Before his partner can answer, they hear tires screeching on the street outside, followed by a crash. Dazai gets up and hurries to the window, lightly touching the furniture around him to find his way. Kunikida is right behind him.

The street is dark. Completly. No street light, no car lights, no moon. The latter can be explained by it being a new moon this night. And the street lights are also no surprise, considering the power outage. But the car lights are worrying. Because Dazai can still hear the cars moving.

"This isn't natural," Kunikida states and finds Dazai's arm. They make their way out of the office, down the stairs and onto the street. People seem to finally have come to their senses, as most cars have by now at least stopped moving. There are some specks of light. Lighters appear to still be working. Taking this information, Kunikida produces his notebook and soon hands Dazai one. It's of the wind-resistant kind. Smart. Both of them now equipped with their tiny flames they head over to the crash site.

"Is anyone hurt?" Kunikida asks the gathered people. "Nah, we slowed down thankfully," answers a man, waving them off. "Don't get how all the lights turned off though." "We're investigating that." They are? Oh, well. Probably.

Dazai takes another look around. Sure enough, he notices something. "Kunikida." His partner turns around, immediately seeing it too. Far, far down the street, the lights are turning back on. "I think it's moving." "An ability user?" Dazai nods. He starts into the opposite direction of the returning lights.

Kunikida is right behind him. Sometimes, they catch glimpses of light in front of them, but every time it's gone almost immediately.

"Looks like our friend isn't moving much faster than us." "But they are moving. We should hurry up. We don't know if they have a goal in mind or if this is just a random attack." Dazai hums. "At least we have an idea of their ability's radius."

There is a sudden flash of light in tune with the sound of an explosion. Then another one. And another one.

They barely exchange looks before speeding up towards the source. Soon enough, they hear yelling. And laughter. Laughter, that Dazai unfortunately recognizes.

"Stop throwing your bombs around! We're supposed to make light, not ruin the whole place!" "I am making light! Can you not see what my beautiful lemon bombs are accomplishing?" The unmistakable figure of Kajii finally comes into view. He's accompanied by a clearly agitated Tachihara. There is the beginning of a small bonfire near them, but they clearly got... distracted. Tachihara is currently shaking Kajii by the coat lapels, while the other laughs.

Dazai sighs. Another bomb gets thrown. It explodes while still in the air, not doing any damage. Dazai sighs again.

The mafia members finally notice them. Tachihara has one gun trained on each of them without a moment of hesitation. Dazai lifts his arms with a lazy smile. "Don't worry, we're not here for you. We're just trying to find the one responsible for the outage." "Really?" Tachihara looks sceptical but lowers his hands. "We've got some guys on it too. Don't get in their way." He indicates for them to move on. "Of course," Dazai smiles and pulls Kunikida with him. The explosions soon return.

"That went smoother than expected," Dazai says once they've gained some distance. "And we can assume that the Port Mafia isn't responsible for this." Dazai shrugs. "I didn't expect them to be. This endangers the city after all." Kunikida hums thoughtfully.

The lights stop moving away eventually. They're on the outskirts of the city by now. It doesn't take long to find the building that seems to be in the centre of it all.

Gunfire.

They duck behind a container, Kunikida pulling out a pistol.

There is a loud crash, and the shooting stops.

Kunikida nods towards the entrance. They have almost reached it, when the door suddenly flies open, followed by three men. They land heavily on the ground and don't get up. Exchanging a quick look, Dazai looks into the building. It's a warehouse. Filled with a distinct red glow. And a lot of bodies.

"Where is the fucker?" Dazai makes a face. If he wasn't sure before, he is now.

Still cautious, Kunikida creeps into the room, Dazai following behind.

Chuuya is standing amidst the bodies, holding one of them up with one hand. The red glow makes it hard to see any details, but whoever the person is, they seem to be shaking their head. Chuuya clicks his tongue and throws them to the side. Directly towards Dazai and Kunikida. They only just manage to jump out of the way.

"Watch it," Dazai complains, causing Chuuya to snap towards them. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Dazai shrugs. Kunikida isn't lowering his gun, he notes. "Same thing as you, I presume."

Chuuya stays silent for a moment before shaking his head. "Fine. But I'm the one that gets their head." "We won't let you kill them if we have another choice," Kunikida interjects. Chuuya stares at him, before pressing out: "We'll see about that."

They have finally stepped close enough to really see Chuuya. The receding glow of his ability helps. Dazai whistles. "Wow, what happened to you?"

Chuuya looks rough. His coat is shredded at multiple points, his pants ripped as well. And he's bleeding. There is blood on his temple, matting some hair to his face. Another wound is on his upper thigh, more are scattered across his arms. Dazai swallows down any possible emotion.

"None of your fucking business." Chuuya turns away. "Let's just find that asshole."

It doesn't take them long. Since Chuuya has already taken out most of the people around, finding the one quivering man hiding in a closet isn't difficult. He falls to his knees immediately when they open it. "I'm so sorry! Please don't kill me, please! I'm sorry!" He continues rambling apologies and pleads for his life as Chuuya steps forward and picks him up by the collar.

"I'll tell you everything you want! Please don't hurt me!"

Kunikida steps towards them, ready to intervene, but Dazai holds him back. For now. "Who hired you?" Chuuya asks through gritted teeth. The man is sobbing at this point. "I don't know their names, but they're based in Yokosuka! I can give you everything I have if you let me live!" Chuuya seems to consider it. Before he can say anything though, the man continues: "I didn't want you dead, I swear! But they said it's the only way and they'd kill me if I didn't cooperate."

That's interesting.

There is a brief flash of disgust on his face before Chuuya literally throws the man into Kunikida's arms. The rambling turns towards thanking him over and over. It's incredibly annoying. Dazai is glad when Kunikida manages to shut the man up.

When they leave the warehouse, the street lights have turned back on. While Kunikida calls someone from the Agency to pick them up, Dazai turns to Chuuya. "So, they were out to get you, huh?", he says in a cheerful voice.

Chuuya sighs, leaning against a wall. "I was driving. Shit turned dark while I was in a curve and they immediately started shooting." Dazai hums. "They must have planned this for quite some time."

Silence stretches between them. Finally, Chuuya pushes away from the wall. "Are you going to tell who he's working for?" Dazai considers it. He should say no. The Port Mafia doesn't take kindly to attacks like this. But this is Chuuya.

He nods. "When we find out." Chuuya stares at him. "You already know, don't you?" "I have my suspicions. But it would be foolish to attack only based on that." Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'm leaving."

Dazai hums. "You should probably get that checked out." He gestures to his own head. "Wouldn't do if you lost the few brain cells you have." "Fuck off." The familiar red glow returns and Chuuya pushes himself off the ground. Dazai watches him until he's out of sight.

With a sigh, he turns towards Kunikida. His partner is watching him. "He'll be fine." Dazai blinks. "I'm not worried about him." Kunikida raises an eyebrow. "Sure." He thankfully changes the topic: "Yosano will be here soon."

Dazai nods and returns to the wall Chuuya was just leaning on. Of course, he's not worried. Chuuya's harder to kill than most people Dazai has met in his life. He still hopes Chuuya gets his head checked out. Just in case.

#whumptober2020 #no.27 #Power Outage #Bungou Stray Dogs #fic #bsd #bungo stray dogs #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya #Kunikida Doppo #soukoku

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