#especially large enough to book an entire event hall!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noodyl-blasstal · 4 months

Text

Cool, Calm, and Collegiate - Chapter 2

Day 2 of Blupjeans Week! Today's prompt is: Alternate Universe.

Read below or on Ao3. Missed yesterday's? Find it here.

Barry works alone. He nods to Lucretia in the halls and Davenport too (when he’s not on fieldwork). He chats with Lucretia in his office sometimes, treats his research assistants with respect, and he has wonderfully professional relationships with his coworkers and correspondents. Especially Dr Tacco. Nine years of perfectly collegiate emails. She first contacted him to ask for a paper that was paywalled to fuck, and obviously Barry sent it; knowledge is for everyone. He wasn’t expecting the wall of questions he got back, but he loved it. It was nice to be challenged, nice to know someone actually read the thing! He emailed back and it was only natural to ask about her research. She told him, and it was fascinating, so then he had to email back again to ask more questions and since then… well… they hadn’t really stopped. It was nice, having someone who understood. He’d missed her when he lost internet in the fuck up around the move. In a collegiate way, obviously.

Despite that, Barry isn’t what most people consider a social guy. He researches all day (and, let’s be honest, sometimes into the night), goes home and cooks, calls his Mum, does his tutoring, his extra marking, his pet projects, then thinks about his research some more. He’s not lonely; that’s what people always think, but he has plenty of virtual connections, he chats with SkeletonReaper most days, well, less since the guy started dating someone, but that’s the way of the world and Barry’s happy for him. They still get to talk at least a few times a week, or, well, they did until the internet company screwed him over, but at least he got a small enough heads up to be able to warn Reaper and Lup.

What Barry doesn’t do though, what Barry hasn't ever done, is casually invite people over. He doesn’t just have friends in his living room at the drop of a hat, especially without a designated time of arrival (and, honestly, departure). In fact, now that he comes to think of it, he’s not entirely sure who the last person to be in his living space was apart from his Mum, Marlena. It sounds bad when he puts it like that. But he socialises! He goes to events for work, attends the awards nights, dances hard at conference dinners; but that’s all difficult. There’s expectations and a right way to act, and honestly it’s less exhausting just to get to write it down and not worry about anyone nudging each other and laughing because they don’t understand the joy of dance. Not that he’s still bitter about that or anything. It’s fine.

All that is to say, he’s not entirely sure what possessed him to invite Lup over. He just, well, he wasn’t done talking to her. He hasn’t been done hearing her thoughts for the last nine years… why start now? He’s still not entirely sure he can trust that it’s real. Dr Tacco is Lup, and Lup is just… here? In the flesh? And she’s so kind, so funny. He knew that anyway of course, but sometimes people aren’t the same as they are online. His brief foray into internet dating taught him that much. But Lup? She and Dr Tacco are like the same person. Largely because they are the same person. She’s here! Eight weeks of Lup just… here. He can show her his research, she can visit the lab! He can show her the models he made at his desk! She’s going to love it, and he’s going to love to hear her thoughts on it. Then there’s a thought, fleeing, barely there, easy to ignore: it's going to be hard when she goes.

Barry stands in the living room and rotates. There’s nothing obvious that shouldn’t be here, no socks strewn on the floor, no crockery graveyards (from when he gets really into a project), or particularly perilous piles of books around his desk. He re-folds the blanket, sits down, stands up again, and sighs. He can’t just lurk in wait, that’s definitely weird. Was inviting her here in the first place weird? Fuck. Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now. Saying that to himself definitely always worked and there’s no risk that he’ll be thinking about this at 3am for the next week at least… He needs to do something. Something turns out to be getting half way through wiping down the kitchen counters, letting his mind wander, cracking a particularly thorny issue of resonance identification, and fully abandoning the task to very quickly note it down before he forgets.

The doorbell rings an indeterminate time later, Barry jerks upright and immediately regrets it when his back gives a warning twinge. He’s too old to be hunched up over his books, he definitely knows better… and ignores that fact too often. Nevermind. He gets up, making the compulsory hurgh noise on the way, and shouts “coming!” into the hallway as he rushes to the door.

“Gross!” Lup yells happily back through the door.

Barry can’t help but snort out a laugh. She’s ridiculous, she’s wonderful. He’s not sure anyone has ever teased him like this before. “Thank you!” He says as he opens the door.

“I hear you’ve got the good stuff.” Lup leans up against the door frame dangling a mug from her finger.

Barry can’t help but grin. She's here! In his home. She actually came. She wanted to see him. The giddy realisation that Lup was here still hasn't faded.

“Come right this way.” Barry sweeps a welcoming arm out for Lup. “Kitchen’s just through that door.”

“Shoes?”

“Up to you.” Barry shrugs as if he doesn’t mind. He always feels awkward asking.

Lup hesitates for a moment, looks at Barry's slipper clad feet, and abandons hers by the door like he wishes he'd been brave enough to ask her too. Marlena had been lax about a lot of social rules, but shoes in the house wasn't one of them.

“So, what're we talking, Sild… Barold? Weird pod thing? Aeropress? Machine you stole from the coffee shop you wrote me soliloquies about before you moved?” Lup leads him to the kitchen as if she lives here.

Another fleeting thought. It'd be nice if she did… “Uh, well, there was this whole thing with, you know, whisky stones, I don't know if you saw? That company pretended they'd invented them…”

“Yeah, Taako was obsessed with the guy who figured that one out!”

“Well I also worked out how to make it hot and still get the flavour.”

“Also?” Lup leans back against the counter and raises an eyebrow.

“I mean… uh…”

“Barold, are you the coffee bandit?? You legally have to tell me if you are.” Lup's eyes are wide and she looks genuinely delighted.

Barry starts bustling through the cupboards so he doesn't have to deal with Lup looking at him like that. He could get used to it. “It wasn't a big deal.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Lup's smile is evident in her voice, even if he can't see it. “Taako's gonna lose it. Will you autograph a mug for him?”

“I'm not autographing a mu…” Barry protests, but Lup pulls a marker out of her bag and hands it to him then nudges her mug towards him over the counter.

Barry ignores it and retrieves the sugar, various coffee beans, and the milk.

Lup nudges the mug closer again. “Oh please. He'll pretend to hate it so much. You can tease him about using it when you come and visit.”

Visiting… Barry hadn't considered that Lup might want to see him beyond this. Had assumed they'd go back to emails and this would be a nice time to reminisce about occasionally.

“To my good friend - Ta…” Barry pauses and asks, “... Double “a”?”

Lup nods. “Double a, one k.”

“...ako. Dream big, aim for the stars…” Barry pauses.

“...Your mentor and inspiration?” Lup suggests.

Barry snorts. “From what you've told me, he'll smash it.”

“...Yours, a coffee genius.”

“I'm not a…” Barry protests.

“We'll always have Coffee rocks.com.” Lup can't get that one out without laughing. Barry joins her.

“Okay, I've got it…” Barry carefully marks out the letters then turns it to Lup.

“Your biggest fan, Barry.”

Lup grins. “Perfect, he'll love it. Now that you've defiled my cup can I have a new one though?”

Barry shakes his head fondly and gestures to his mug cupboard while he starts The Coffee-nator running.

–

It's nice, sitting together in the living room. Lup tucks her feet up under her and he obviously has to spin himself round slightly to face her. She's here, Dr Tacco, Lup, just, sat on his sofa.

“This coffee is baller, you’re a genius. So where's the bond resonance identification work up to?” Lup asks, like she means it, like she really wants to know.

Usually Barry deals with people who just want a quick status report, but Lup's leaning forward and smiling and doing all the things that give him permission to launch into an explanation.

She listens, she asks questions, she asks really good questions, good to the point he has to go grab his notebook. Obviously Lup has to scooch over so she can see, they’re pressed thigh to thigh, book passing backwards and forwards between them, and it’s perfect. This is how it should be - teamwork. When she suggests a modification for one of his equations, he scribbles it down immediately.

“Woah.” Lup says quietly.

“Did I misunderstand?” Barry squints at his notes. Maybe he wrote it wrong.

“No, it's just… you know how it is, people are wedded to their own ideas, they'll give you the nod along then ignore it.”

“But you're a genius?” Barry says quickly, because she is.

There’s a pause before Lup schools her face back to her easy confidence. “Natch.” She shrugs. “But not everyone appreciates that genius.”

“They're missing out.” Barry turns to look her in the eye. “Are you being treated like that in your research roles?”

Lup scrunches her face up. “We don't have to talk about it. Anyway, tell me about the resonance monitor again. Can we add a fun dial?”

Barry knows a diversion when he sees one, but he's happy to be diverted.

By the time their alarms go off, warning them the welcome evening staff briefing is in half an hour (they'd both dutifully set them when they got the note paper out), they're neck deep in resonance equations.

“Shit! Time flies when you're doing theoretical maths.” Lup stretches. “Wanna walk over together?”

Barry performs a less graceful version of Lup’s stretch with a lot more back popping. “Sounds good.”

–

“I guess I'd better…” Barry indicates Lucretia.

“Sure.” Lup says easily.

“See you after?” Barry asks tentatively.

“Natch, we're not done reworking the fabric that holds this world together.” Lup grins and gives him a little wave before going to join some of the other temporary staff.

“Hi Lucretia.” Barry nods his head in greeting and eases himself into the chair beside her.

“Nice to see you.” Lucretia smiles.

At first he'd been a bit unnerved by her, but he quickly realised that, under the deceptively frosty interior, Lucretia was friendly, had a great sense of humour. She was also incredibly smart, but that went without saying.

“We’re just waiting on a few more then we'll get going. Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be.” Barry jokes, Lucretia is kind enough to laugh.

Lydia and Edward are last to arrive, Lucretia is already part way through the introduction when they throw the doors open and march in. He assumes it's some kind of coordinated move designed to impress, but Lup snorts loudly and Lucretia doesn't break her stride, just points to the seats.

The twins sit in tandem, and glare at Lucretia.

“So, before we move on, any questions about the housekeeping? Has everyone managed to get into their accommodation without issue?” Lucretia asks.

The twins’ hands immediately shoot up in the air.

“It's all very quaint, darling really…” begins Lydia.

“...but there's simply just not very much space, and single beds? Really? We're all professionals here.” Edward titters.

“And as professionals, you're very welcome to rent off-campus housing if the free accommodation isn't to your taste.” Lucretia gives a small, firm smile, and her tone brokers absolutely no room for disagreement.

If Barry's not mistaken (and he really hopes he isn't), the twins sit up slightly straighter.

“Anyone else?” Lucretia asks the room at large. No one else raises a hand. “Excellent, in that case, I'll introduce my colleague Barry.” Lucretia gestures at him to join her.

Barry hates public speaking. Not because he can't do it, but because he gets excited about getting a chance to talk about something and then he has to figure out what people actually want from him. It's usually a shorter explanation than he wants to give (context is important to understanding!)

Barry clears his throat to buy a few seconds. Then scans the assembled educators. “Hello everyone.” He begins. Good solid start, no room for misunderstanding. “Thank you all for joining us this summer.”

Lup nods encouragingly and gives a small thumbs up. Ah yes… he's definitely mentioned how much he hates this in one of his emails.

“We have 3 goals at the IPRE Summer School. 1) Everyone learns something new (preferably a few new somethings.)” He adds the last bit in a stage whisper, the twins roll their eyes, but Lup grins. Maybe he can just focus on her. “2) Everyone has at least a bit of fun doing it, and that includes you. 3) IPRE is for everyone - if someone has been selected to join us this summer then they're here for a reason. We don't discriminate, and you won't either. That being said, if you do have concerns about any of the students, then please direct them to Madame Director.” He gestures towards Lucretia, who smirks and raises an eyebrow at the use of her most official title. He grins back, if there was ever a time for it, it was now.

Barry moves over to gesture at the table. “Every one of you has a personalised briefing pack waiting here. This will include all of the classes you'll be teaching, your full schedule - including some activity leading, and details of all the classrooms. There's also generic packs here about the resources that will be available to you for teaching - your lesson plans have all been approved of course, but we're not inflexible, although please check any substantial changes with Lucretia.”

Lucretia nods.

“Now, does anyone have any questions before you look at your packs? Lucretia and I will both be here in case you do once you've reviewed them.”

Barry waits. “No? Okay. Please collect your packs and take some time to review them.”

The twins push their way to the front, grab their packs and swan out with a “ta ta everyone” from Edward, and “Dinner reservations, you know how it is.” From Lydia.

Barry keeps his face as neutral as possible. It's probably not professional to show how much he dislikes their attitude, although, judging by Lucretia's face they'll be finding themselves in her office sooner rather than later.

The rest of the meeting passes easily, there's plenty of procedural questions to work through, but Barry and Lucretia cover it between them. By the time they're done everyone seems satisfied. They wave them off with a smile.

“Neeeeeeerd.” Lup says behind him.

Barry panics momentarily. Has he done something wrong? Was this some kind of elaborate trick to ease him into a false sense of security?

“This folder's really well put together. I just assumed it was you because the scheduling timetable looks like your usual format.”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” Barry nods stiffly.

“It's baller.”

“Baller.” Barry repeats. Okay, maybe it's fine. He did make the tables, to be fair, frankly, he's amazed she recognises his work.

“So. Wanna grab something to eat? I'm sure I'll get well acquainted with the canteen this Summer, but is there anywhere you'd recommend?”

“You want to go for tea? With me?”

“Obviously, we've got the whole of science to solve.” Lup grins like this is the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it is. Maybe there's a universe in which Barry is a guy who just casually grabs food with a colleague and he doesn't bat an eyelid.

“Yeah, you're right Lup, we do.”

–

Dingus,

Remember the coffee guy you were obsessed with FuckCorporationsItsAWhiskyStone69420 or whatever his blog was, well, he's also Barry, who is of course Sildar. Anyone else you want me to check and see if he is? I've already asks and he promises he isn't you, Magnus, or Merle. I didn't ask if he was me though… fuck. Do I even exist?

In definitely unrelated news I had a lot of coffee. A lot of lot of coffee. So it's 3am and I'm wired and we're talking right now because you got off shift late, but you can hear this twice, fuck it.

Briefing sure happened. Teach Good, Don't Harm The Kids covers it. Twins still awful, as reported. Glad we retain our status as Best Twins To Ever Exist.

Love you,

Lup xxx

Thank you for reading! You can find day 3 here.

#BlupjeansWeek2024 #Blupjeans #TAZ Fic #The Adventure Zone #Barry Bluejeans #Lup

17 notes · View notes

hazeltonmanor · 4 hours

Text

Choosing the Perfect Wedding Reception Halls for Your Special Day

Your wedding reception is one of the most important events in your life, and finding the perfect wedding reception halls is key to making the day unforgettable. The reception hall is where you, your family, and friends will gather to celebrate your love, so it’s important to choose a venue that reflects your style and meets all your needs. Here’s a guide to help you select the ideal wedding reception halls.

1. Capacity and Layout

One of the first things to consider when choosing a wedding reception hall is its capacity. The venue should be large enough to accommodate all your guests comfortably but not so large that it feels empty or impersonal. Many halls provide maximum capacity information, so be sure to confirm this before booking. Also, consider the layout of the hall. You’ll want to ensure that there’s enough space for a dining area, dance floor, and any other activities, like speeches or a photo booth, that you plan to include.

Additionally, ask about flexible seating arrangements and room customization. Being able to rearrange tables and seating to match your vision can greatly enhance the flow and feel of your event.

2. Location and Accessibility

The location of the wedding reception hall is another important factor. Ideally, it should be convenient for both you and your guests. If your wedding ceremony takes place in a different location, consider the travel time between the two venues. For out-of-town guests, it’s helpful to choose a reception hall that’s near hotels or accommodations. You may also want to look for a venue that offers ample parking or is accessible by public transportation. Ease of access ensures a smooth experience for everyone attending.

3. Style and Ambiance

The style of the wedding reception halls should align with the theme and aesthetic of your wedding. If you’re planning a formal, elegant wedding, look for venues with classic architecture, grand chandeliers, or luxurious décor. For more rustic or laid-back weddings, consider barns, gardens, or halls with a natural, minimalist design. It’s important to choose a venue that fits the vibe you’re trying to create. A beautiful space with the right ambiance can set the tone for the entire evening and enhance the overall experience.

4. Catering and Services

Some wedding reception halls offer in-house catering, while others may require you to bring in your own caterer. If food is a priority for your event, ask about the available catering options and the types of menus they provide. Many venues offer customized menus to suit different tastes and dietary needs. Additionally, consider other services that the venue provides, such as bartending, cake cutting, and waitstaff. The more services a venue offers, the easier it will be to plan your event, and the less you’ll need to coordinate on your own.

5. Amenities and Extras

Modern wedding reception halls often come equipped with a variety of amenities to enhance your event. Ask about things like sound systems, projectors, lighting options, and AV equipment. Having access to quality sound and lighting can make a big difference, especially for dancing, speeches, and entertainment. Some venues also offer bridal suites, coat checks, and valet services, adding an extra layer of convenience and luxury to your big day.

6. Budget

Your wedding budget will play a major role in selecting your wedding reception hall. While you may fall in love with a high-end venue, it’s important to ensure that the price aligns with your overall wedding budget. Reception hall costs can vary significantly depending on location, size, and services offered. Look for a venue that offers a balance between affordability and the features you need. Keep in mind that some venues may have additional fees for things like overtime, corkage, or setup, so be sure to ask about all potential costs upfront.

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect wedding reception halls is an exciting but important task. By considering factors like capacity, location, style, and budget, you can find a venue that matches your vision and ensures a seamless, memorable event. Whether you’re looking for a luxurious ballroom or a charming, rustic hall, the right reception venue will provide the backdrop for the celebration of a lifetime. Make sure to visit the hall in person, ask plenty of questions, and envision how the space will bring your wedding dreams to life. For more details visit our website: www.hazeltonmanor.com

#Banquet Hall Vaughan #Reception Hall #Wedding Hall Vaughan #Wedding Venue #Wedding Reception Venues #Wedding Banquet Halls #Banquet Room Vaughan #Wedding Reception Halls #Banquet House #The Manor Wedding Venue #Banquet Halls In Vaughan #Events Hall Vaughan #The Manor Banquet Hall #Vaughan Wedding Venues #Halls In Vaughan

0 notes

deepdarkdelights · 3 years

Text

Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 13.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, and now you were crying again.

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

It was time to start celebrating then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

Someone was in the house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry miss, but -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were having a stressful day.

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

It was him again, the man with the dimples.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was too close of a call for you.

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

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

“You’re an officer, then?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.

"Well, to dress you of course."

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made you uncomfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That could have been you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Interested?” He echoed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have a deal.” He confirmed.

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

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

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

“And what will we do in the meantime?”

“Well investigate, of course.”

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

You assumed.

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

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

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

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

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

Usually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Two more women are dead.”

Silence.

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

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

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

No matter what you do, someone will die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?

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

That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind.

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

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

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

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, what can I do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon was calling your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon.

~~~~~~~

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

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

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

He was playing with them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Two of us?” You echoed.

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

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

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

“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, if only you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

863 notes · View notes

stephreynaart · 3 years

Text

Gravity Falls - “Waiting”

Pop-Pop AU

Stan sits in a hospital waiting room, thinking about his life and the people he loves.

- - - -

This is kinda old, but I realized I never posted it on tumblr. Hope ya like it!

Lots of fluff, the only ships are Soos and Melody.

AO3 LINK

- - - -

It had a square aspect ratio. Ink pen and watercolor on white heat pressed cotton paper in a bland white frame. One single blue flower in a red vase with what looks like a yellowish shadow. One shadow going left, the other going right. The lack of confidence and inexperience was obvious, the lines were unfocused and jagged, the color plainly filled the shapes and gave no other visual interest to the image.

Below the frame was a small white card that read “Painting donated by Jessica Blaise from Gravity Falls Elementary School”

Stan scanned the painting at least 20 times while sitting in that chair. The too rough and too soft at the same time chair that had similar copies populating the almost white room he sat in. The wallpaper bouncing off light pinks and blues with tiny ducklings as a makeshift wainscoting was starting to irritate the old man. It was too bright, and the consistent buzz of the fluorescent lights seemed so loud. Stan adjusted himself in his chair, switching his crossed legs to a wider spread and leaned his head against the wall.

The only other stimulus in the room were a few posters promoting proper hand washing techniques, the play area with a small table and chairs with large blocks, crayons and that weird “game” with the metal wiring and wooden beads that’s in every waiting room Stan’s ever sat in. He played with the toys to give himself something to do after he read all the magazines. The novelty wore off fast.

The television mounted on the wall was airing some cooking channel with no sound and no subtitles. Looking at food when you haven’t eaten in a few hours was practically torture, so Stan had been averting his eyes.

There were other paintings on the wall, one was less of a painting, but instead a print of a painting. He doubted that the artist got any compensation from it, if they were still alive. The other was a charcoal drawing done by a student from the community college a town away. Another square, but the entire image was black, the brightest thing on the page was an intruding infant hand coming from the left with the arm fading into the dark background. The fingers seemingly mid-twitch and grabbing at something. The lighting was dynamic and interesting. Stan swore it was a drawing of a penis the first time he glanced at it, which resulted in his brother’s laughter. Stanley smiled at the memory, it was only a few hours ago, but he relishes any time he can make Stanford laugh.

Stan’s eyes darted at the door in the far corner when it opened suddenly. He eased back into his chair when the nurse crossed the room to talk with the receptionist. He couldn’t hear the conversation very well, but could tell they were just gossiping and making jokes. Nothing that was of his interest. So he looked back to the elementary school child’s painting and analyzed it again. His eyes were dry and he was tired. He wished he could sleep, the chair wasn’t comfortable enough and when he did managed to sleep, his neck was sore when he woke up. He was only lucky Ford let him use his shoulder as a pillow for a while. He looked to his left and noted the book his brother placed in the seat. It seemed thick and in what looked like Hebrew. Stan wasn’t very surprised Ford was fluent in the language they were acquainted with as children. Their grandparents on their father’s side were the last to be fully fluent in Hebrew. It was like his brother to be curious of their heritage, but Stan only remembered a few phrases and words he learned from holidays and special event when he had to recite anything in Temple.

Stan crossed his arms and glanced at the clock on the wall and let out an exasperated sigh. It had only been 10 minutes since he last checked the time. He wanted to be at home, be in his soft warm bed and getting ready to eat pancakes at this time in the morning.

He and Ford were on the porch of The Mystery Shack when Soos rushed them off to the hospital the yesterday afternoon. What he originally thought would be a couple of hours of waiting turned into almost twelve. Apparently labour can last a long time.

Stan wished he could be a witness for Soos and Melody like he was when Dipper and Mabel were born, but Melody wanted her privacy, which Stan could respect, but Soos wanted him there…..so he and Ford waited in this bright, annoyingly pastel waiting room, twiddling his thumbs awaiting the arrival of the new member of the mystery family. He was glad he was in at least comfortable clothes, some gray sweatpants and a sweater Mabel knitted for him that read “godfather”.

He was never clear on what the title entailed, but it was mentioned a few times by Soos’ grandmother and the kids insisted that Soos was intending to ask him. He hadn’t, but he didn’t protest Stan wearing the sweater. Whatever job godfathers had, he was willing to play the part if Soos were to ask him.

Stan looked at the double doors a few feet away that lead out of the waiting room and into the halls. His brother left to find something for them to eat, but was taking his sweet time. The turkey being basted on the television was no help in aiding his growling stomach.

He distracted himself by returning his thoughts to Soos and Melody. Just down the hall they were experiencing the strange and beautiful phenomenon that was witnessing the arrival of a brand new person. Stan remembered the feeling so clearly. His entire life he’s felt the presence of human beings. It’s inherent in most people to feel when someone is in the room with you, the other soul sharing the same space as you. Imagine being in a room with a set amount of people and someone else comes in, but imagine they came in without using a doorway. Just appearing seemingly out of thin air. Suddenly another person is with you, and they’re brand new to the world, a life full of potential and power. Yes, today is indeed a happy day, but no amount of positive thinking would ease Stan’s nerves. His foot began to bounce and his hands unconsciously began to fiddle with each other. He didn’t want to think anything would go wrong with Soos’ baby, but anything can happen and life is so fragile, especially at the start of it.

He recalled his nephew’s nervousness the day Dipper and Mabel were born. His hands were shaking and he was constantly checking on his wife and asking the doctors loads of questions. He didn’t fully understand the twins’ father’s behavior until the end of that day.

Mabel’s birth was swift and easy. Her mother only needed to push one and a half times before she was here. It was as if she was eager to meet everyone waiting for her. She cried like most babies do, but Stan could’ve sworn they were tears of joy. While Mabel was greeted with, “hello, beautiful”, “hi, sweetie” and “she’s perfect”, Her brother’s introduction to world started with, “what’s wrong?”, “wait, let me hold him”, and “he’s not moving”. Dipper was rushed out of the room before his mother got a chance to look at him. Stan managed to catch a glimpse of the horrifyingly blue tint on his great nephew’s tiny face. The memory still gave him chills. He remembered how much he wanted to hold Mabel, who began to fuss and cry, obviously missing her brother. He was terrified at the prospect of another incomplete set of twins in their family. After the longest 30 minute of his life, Stan’s great-nephew returned with a bright pink face, wailing with all the power his little lungs could produce. Once the twins were reunited in their mother’s arms, they settled down almost instantly. The doctors told their parents Dipper was significantly lighter in weight than his sister, but both were very strong and healthy. Every so often Stan thinks about Dipper and how much he has impacted his life. His thoughts lead to darker places and he questions if Ford would be here if Dipper wasn’t there to find the third journal. He shook his head as a cold shiver went up his spine.

Stan did his best to distract himself from revisiting the scare that Dipper caused him 16 years ago.

16 years…..17 in August

Stan blinked. The squishy, bright faces that stayed with him that first summer had changed significantly. They stayed in contact all year round and visited every summer since they were 12. But every in-person meeting was always a shock. Dipper was developing the square jaw Stan, both his brothers and nephew shared. He started to regularly wear glasses their second summer with the Stans. Poor kid will grow up looking like Filbrick like the rest of the Pines men. He reminded Stan of Ford at that age.

And Mabel…..

Stan will never get over how much she looks like his mother. It didn’t strike him until Soos and Melody’s wedding and she put her hair in a bun. She’s calmed her hyperactivity down a bit, but not by a lot, she still brightens his day with her wit and creativity. They’ve both matured physically, but not much has changed personality wise and they still acted like big children when they’re around each other. Stan loved them very much, and wished he could see them more often. He wondered what the future held for all of them. Would they still visit town after going to college? Would they move here? Or somewhere else?

He’s had several conversations with them to see how they’re managing the prospect of separating. They’re much better at communicating than he and Ford were and they seem actually excited to have some independence. It made Stan nervous, but he was sure their close relationship wouldn’t suffer.

Wendy chose to be elsewhere for the next few years. She and her friends booked a plane ticket and plan to backpack and hitchhike around Europe and the UK. Stan hopes they stay safe and watch out for each other. Lotta weirdos in Amsterdam. She was set to leave in the coming days, Wendy wanted to wait until today arrived so she could meet Soos and Melody’s kid before going away for who knows how long.

A tap on the shoulder woke Stan from his deep thoughts. His brother arrived with some warm sub sandwiches and coffee.

“Any word yet?, he asked Stan

“Nothin’ yet”, Stan felt helpless not having any clue how Soos and Melody were doing.

Stanford took his seat next to Stanley and they both silently enjoyed their late breakfast. Since arriving they’ve witnessed families reuniting and going past the door in the far corner to meet their children, grandchildren or siblings. Stan looked at the clock again. How has it only been another 5 minutes? He sighed, leaned back and finished the rest of his sub. One hand holding the sandwich, the other went back to gripping the arm rest, then a six fingered hand went down to rest on top of it. Stan let go of the armrest and tangled his fingers between Ford’s and held onto it with a, hopefully not too tight, grip. It was like an anchor to reality, much better at easing his anxieties than any words could. Over the past 4 years, Stan and Ford’s bond grew stronger. Stan still feared one day he would wake up and find himself still in that basement surrounded by broken machinery and languages he didn’t understand. He hasn’t yet, and was enjoying the time he had left with his twin. Stan took a moment to look at his brother again, Ford made eye contact and smiled then continued to read his book. Hands still intertwined

Stans thoughts went back to Soos…

It amazed Stan how much he had grown and it still baffled him that Soos idolized him as much as he does. Before Soos, Stan had no one. His brother was….gone, the rest of the family didn’t talk to him much outside of the holidays and special occasion. There hadn’t been any sense of consistency in Stan’s life for years, decades even, until he hired the chubby little kid he barely glanced at one random Saturday. Soos always arrived to work early, sometimes with breakfast for both of them. Stan didn’t know how much he needed a reliable companion until he had it and he enjoyed the 10 years he had with that kid… or man he should say. Here he was…a few rooms away, becoming a father.

Stan used to daydream a lot about the prospect of having kids when he was younger. He’s was always good with them when he had the chance to babysit his nephew, then later Dipper and Mabel when they were toddlers. He loved having kids in his house that first summer. He loved the energy and the sense of adventure the twins brought. They gave him a sense of purpose and belonging he hadn’t felt in years. He wished he was brave enough to have his own children. Not that he was ever with anyone long enough to want to have kids with him. He supposed it was for the best that he didn’t subject a child to homelessness or an unhappy marriage. He was also terrified at the idea. His dad used to say having kids ruined his life. He wondered who his father was before his older brother was born. Did they really ruin his life? Stan often wondered if he would be like his own dad if he has children of his own. Would he change and become that annoyed parent that resenting his children?

He thought about Soos again

That was probably the closest to parenthood he ever experienced. The first time he felt like one was when Soos asked him for homework help after closing. He initially told Soos no, he wasn’t exactly smart and didn’t think he would be any help. It apparently upset the kid, so Stan sighed and gave it a try. It was fairly simple middle school math, he didn’t remember everything, but helped Soos do more than half of it. Soos thanked him and went home happy. Stan felt weirdly proud, he was glad he made a small difference and managed to teach Soos something he didn’t even know he knew.

The second time was when Soos was a teenager. His grandmother wasn’t able to teach Soos to drive, since she had forgotten how and her late husband used to do the driving, she mostly walked everywhere. Soos offered to work for free so Stan could teach him. Stan loved driving and found teaching Soos cathartic. He was a fast and eager learner, he only bumped Stan’s car once while trying to figure out parallel parking. Little did Soos know that he was getting paid for his normal work hours. Stan just put it away long enough to help buy the kid some old used truck in the junkyard for getting his license. They fixed the truck up and in only a few weeks it was ready to be on the road. Soos has taken good care of it and it’s still his ride to this day

Stan was very proud of Soos. He taught the kid some basic self defense and managed to be a decent influence in his life. Soos at least has his priorities straight.

Stan was even glad to see that Soos was willing to question him. When the portal was reaching the final countdown, he didn’t hesitate to protect the kids from him when he thought Stan was dangerous. He didn’t know, none of them did, so he didn’t blame Soos for distrusting him. He hoped he never had to betray him again. They both had crappy dads, and Stan knew how Soos saw him. Stan was never really sure if he reciprocated those feelings. It felt natural to act the part, but to put a label as important as “dad” on Stan was daunting. Soos definitely deserves better than what he was given, Stan wasn’t sure if he was it.

Stan looked up at the familiar voices running towards him from the double doors.

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mabel waved to them

The two teenagers and Wendy walked in holding a balloon and various toys. They took some seats across from the Stans and asked how everyone was doing and if the baby arrived yet.

“Not yet, hopefully soon” Ford answered

Stan relaxed and silently enjoyed his family’s company. He laid his head back and leaned slightly on Ford to rest for a minute. His eyes shut as he listened to the kids joke around and talk amongst themselves. He squeezed Ford’s hand one more time before drifting off.

He knew he should’ve tried sleeping earlier, he wasn’t out for more than 15 minutes when Soos came into the waiting room. Stan’s eyes shot open and he was on his feet faster than he did when he was being chased by angry costumers as a door to door salesman. Soos’ red eyes sagged and he seemed exhausted, but carried a proud, wide smile across his face. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“It’s a boy”, he squeaked, “mom and baby are okay”

Dipper and Mabel were first to start the hugs, and the room filled with cheers of congratulations and love. Stan felt light as a feather giving Soos a hug and joking about child labor.

“Can we see him?”, Mabel bounced with anticipation

“Yeah, dudes!”, Soos gestured everyone past the corner door and into the suite. “But only for a little while, Melody has to sleep”

The room was small, dimly lit and warm. The Pines crew collectively lowered their voices as Melody came into view on the bedding holding a bundle of blankets decorated with small yellow ducklings. She was leaned back on a large pillow, covered in blankets and toted a soft smile on her face. Soos stroked her hair and picked up his little son to show to the Pines’. The younger twins got a look at him first,

Mabel squealed and cooed at the tiny infant. Then Wendy, who said hi to the baby and told Soos she’d make sure to send him gifts while she was away

“What’s his name?”, Mabel asked Melody

“I named him after my dad”, Melody replied, “Jacob”. She smiled sadly at the memory of the father she lost the year before.

Soos approached the Stans, Ford smiled and complimented the couple on a having such beautiful little boy, but shot Soos a look, who silently replied with another one. Something was up.

Finally Stan got a look at baby Jacob. “Wow” Stan smiled, patting Soos’ arm. “He looks exactly like you”

Soos laughed, “really? I think he looks like Melody”, there was a short silence before Soos spoke up again.

“Do you want to hold him, Mr Pines?”

Stan looked at Soos and smiled, “heh, sure”. He held his arms out. Soos lowered his arms to pass the baby to Stan, who scrunched his face up and started to fuss. Stan took the infant and managed to hold him with one arm. He bounced and shushed little Jacob until he calmed down. “Heya kid”, He’s held babies dozens of times, but something felt different about this one. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Stan felt an almost magnetic pull towards him. Jacob settled comfortably against Stan and continued his rest. Stan softly beamed at the tiny person in his arms.

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan lifted an eyebrow and looked at Soos, who was fidgeting with his hands and nervously smiling.

“Uh..”, he paused, taking in the sight of Stan holding his child. “You know about my dad”, Soos looked at Ford again, who shrugged and nodded. Stan studied Ford’s face, who’s eyes strayed away as he hid a small smile. Soos got his attention again.

“You uh…he wasn’t…”, Soos choked up, his voice strained a bit, “I met you when I was probably the loneliest I ever was in my entire life”. Stan pictured the little boy he hired on the spot, he didn’t remember him until Soos showed up at his door step the next day ready to work. He didn’t know how much that quick, thoughtless decision would change his life.

Soos perked up and walked across the room to a table and picked up the piece of paper sitting on it. Soos glanced at it, then at Stan and smiled, gaining some emotional strength it seemed.

“You mean a lot me”, Soos, “you were there when I really needed it, you gave me a job, taught me just about everything I know. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that”

Stan got a bit nervous, Was this him asking to be the godfather?Everyone was silent and curiously watching. Soos held his hand out and handed the paper to Stan. He adjusted his arm to properly hold Jacob in his arm and took it. Stan flipped the page and noticed it was the baby’s birth certificate. Stan eyes bounced off the page and read the various information: birthdate, weight, parents, but he froze when he read the full name. Stan’s wide eyes questioningly studied Soos’ face.

“Are you…”, Stan felt his own throat tightening, crap. Come on, not in front of everyone “really?”, he asked. Soos gave a genuine nod and sniffed.

“I uh” Soos cleared his throat, “I was wondering, since Jacob doesn’t have one…if you wanted to be…. his grandpa?

There it was

Stan felt dizzy and took a small step back before remembering who was in his hands and regained his balance. Ford came to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Stan decide not to look at his brother and chose to stare forward, then his eyes went back to Soos, who look deflated. Oh man. Stan was terrified, he didn’t want to say no and hurt Soos, but if he said yes….he wasn’t sure what made him so nervous. The entire concept sounded so alien to him, like he didn’t deserve the title. He always considered Soos, Melody and their son a part of his family. But to bare a title like “grandpa”, had to mean he had children that that children. That he was already a parent without his knowledge. It all felt so natural to want to lean into this and become part of this family like Soos wanted.

He heard something make a noise from beneath himself. Stan looked down at little Jacob, who was mid yawn. The baby’s mouth grew wide opens and inhaled, scrunching up his face and suddenly shut. Suddenly two tiny eyes opened for just a few seconds, enough time for Stan to make eye contact before Jacob shut them and got comfortable again

Everything was different now.

Stan didn’t notice how quiet the room had gotten nor the tears forming in his eyes. Stunned by beauty and overcome with pride and a sense of purpose. The pride he felt teaching Soos math, how to drive and attending his graduation all combined just looking at the perfect being in his arms. If he said yes, he would want everything that came with it. Stan lifted the birth certificate up to read the name again.

Jacob Stanley Ramirez

“Y-Yes”, he heard a shaken voice say, almost not realizing it was his own “of course”. He looked at Soos, tears in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. He still wasn’t sure if he deserved this, but Stan wanted it. He wanted it all. Why not indulge just this once? He gave the certificate to Ford and used his now free hand to pull Soos into a hug. Gently sandwiching his…..grandson in between him……and his son.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fan fiction #stanley pines #stanford pines #soos ramirez #melody #mabel pines #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #pop pop au #poppop!stan #dad!soos #dad!stan

161 notes · View notes

supergraphicultramoderngirl · 3 years

Text

i’ve been seeing a post going around abt how jatp is probably cancelled but netflix knows they’ll lose money if they announce it so they just aren’t saying anything,,,,,, but like. here’s the thing.

i was in the andi mack fandom as the show 1) had the most popularity it ever had, and 2) was coming to an end, with both of these things happening at the same time. andi mack was bringing the most views (see: money) to disney channel out of any of the other shows that were airing at the time, and yet right in the middle of their third season, they announced its cancellation. while it was, naturally, upsetting to any watcher of the show, it… made sense. they’d told a lot of the story by that point, most of the loose ends had started getting tied up, and they didn’t have a lot of opportunities in what direction they could take the story next (regardless or not of whether the show was cancelled for homophobic reasons or just because it had already reached disney’s usual three season mark, ending the story where they did fit more than it would have, had they tried to continue for a fourth season).

this is not the case with jatp.

not only did the show end on a cliffhanger that needs resolving, but there are so many more directions the show can explore from where they left off. and from a viewer standpoint, any of the other shows that were cancelled after one season (teenage bounty hunters, i am not okay with this, and the society come to mind) didn’t have nearly as much fan+cast+crew support as jatp does. i never watched the society, so i don’t really have a say for that one, but for tbh and ianowt, they were both very much one-off concepts that would’ve had trouble in a second (or third) season, mostly because the entire shows were based off of concepts (bounty hunting and telekinesis, respectively) rather than plots. ianowt ended on a cliffhanger, technically, but really it was resolved in the final episode with the intro and outro shots being the same. obviously, more could’ve been done with it, but like,,,, how much more, especially with the success of stranger things, where a character there has nearly the exact same powers as the main in ianowt?

jatp is lucky enough that on the off chance it is cancelled, it still has a mostly resolved ending (ignoring the last scene). but there are still so many things left unanswered if you think a bit beyond what the story tells you— why did julie’s hug work? does her mom have anything to do with it? what will caleb do next? is willie alright? are the boys alive or just saved? will ray ever find out? when a show ends, especially if it’s cancelled, there are usually some questions, but it is never nearly that open ended. it’s why i figured a show like no good nick would get renewed for a second season, but not a third; because of how the seasons ended.

also, i’ve never heard of any of netflix’s most popular shows getting their own book adaptation, let alone three of them. ignoring the fact that the synopsis for whatever happens literally said that the events in that book would lead into a second season, netflix knows the show is popular. they know the show would make them more money. they have no reason to cancel it other than their own conservative reasons, and in the case that happens, there is likely enough fan support to get it picked up somewhere else, especially with kenny fucking ortega as a director.

it is INCREDIBLY likely that the only reason they haven’t renewed it yet is because of border restrictions. with such large productions in the show, making sure that every one can cross the border into vancouver for filming can be very difficult given all of the covid protocols that need to take place (rightfully so). they likely also can’t risk filming big production numbers like tosoh even if everyone is fully vaccinated, just because of the number of people. hell, the dining hall i eat at requires proof of vaccination and we’re still only allowed to sit three people to a table. once they get more confirmation that things can be done safely, we’ll be more likely to hear news about a renewal.

if anyone else has any thoughts on this please feel free to share, i’m just trying to remain hopeful and make sense out of all of it

#jatp #julie and the phantoms

108 notes · View notes

btsqualityy · 4 years

Text

Assuage: Chapter 4

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: None to note.

Author’s Note: This chapter is the last of the introductory things to the universe and this is where the story will start to pick up more! I hope you guys enjoy it!

A few days later, Yoongi was sitting at the front counter in the hardware shop, sketching out a design for an armoire that an Omega in the pack had put in a order for. Kibum was quickly giving Yoongi more and more responsibilities within the shop, and that included designing some things. He had to admit, it sort of scared him but he also enjoyed it.

Yoongi had never really been particularly good at anything (except for hunting but that was expected for him being a Prime Alpha), so discovering this hidden talent for woodworking and carpentry was doing wonders for his psyche.

Just as he added some small designs onto the sketchpad, he heard the telltale ringing of the bell above the front door and when he looked up, he saw you and Hyorin stepping inside.

“Hi Yoongi!” Hyorin greeted him happily, her hands on her large baby bump as she waddled over to stand in front of the counter.

“Hey Hyorin, Y/N,” he replied stiffly, his eyes narrowing at you when you only nodded at him. “What can I help you with?”

“I just came to put in my formal request for a crib,” Hyorin smiled brightly. “Since Namjoon and I only have a little less than two months until this pup comes, I figured now would be a good time.”

“Yeah, it should be,” Yoongi nodded, reaching over and grabbing the order book and flipping it open to a clean page. “Anything specific that you’d like, such as colors or wood preference?”

“I’d like oak, for the whole thing,” Hyorin began. “And maybe a white or cream canopy.”

“White or cream?” You repeated. “You sure you don’t want something different?”

“Since we don’t know what we’re having, I want it to be gender neutral,” Hyorin shrugged. “And you know how Joon and I feel about the whole “blue for boys and Alphas and pink for girls and Omegas” thing.”

“Hey, I was just making sure,” you held your hands up in surrender.

“Anything else that you’d want?” Yoongi wondered after writing down what Hyorin had said.

“Maybe a rattle,” Hyorin added. “Joon was telling me that you guys got a shipment of plastic in from Seoul the other day.”

“We did,” Yoongi nodded. “Anything specific in regards to the design?”

“Whatever you come up with is fine,” Hyorin shrugged. “I’m not picky.”

“Alright, I’ll tell Kibum when he comes back and I’m sure he’ll want to get to work on it right away.”

“Oh no, tell him not to forget about any of your other orders just because of mines,” Hyorin chuckled. “Me and this little one can wait.”

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” Yoongi smiled lightly.

“Well, I have to go because I told Namjoon that I’d sit in on his meeting with Jin,” Hyorin sighed as she looked at the clock on the wall that showcased the time. “I’ll see you later Y/N-ah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Ok. Thank you Yoongi, and tell Kibum that I said thank you too,” Hyorin smiled as she turned to walk out of the store.

“No problem,” Yoongi called out after her, watching as the door to the shop shut behind her before turning to look back at you. “Why is she sitting in on Namjoon’s meeting with Jin?”

“What do you mean, why?” You wondered. “She’s Pack Omega.”

“Exactly, she’s an Omega,” Yoongi nodded.

“Is this more of your sexist bullshit coming out?” You scoffed. “In our pack, the Pack Alpha and Pack Omega have an equal amount of power. And to answer your question, she’s sitting in on the meeting because Jin is the Head Omega of the pack, which means that he looks out for all of the unmated Omegas and the newly presented Omegas. He wanted to talk to Namjoon about some things and Hyorin is going to be there because she used to be Head Omega before her and Namjoon mated.”

“Oh,” Yoongi uttered.

“Running a pack is a big job, even for two people and Namjoon is smart enough to realize that as good as his intentions might be, he can’t understand what Omegas go through because he’s not one,” you continued. “That’s why he leans on Hyorin sometimes.”

“And the pack still respects him?” Yoongi wondered.

“Of course. Traditionally, the only person that an Alpha will back down for is their mate so he’s not doing anything completely unheard of,” you shrugged.

“It is to me,” Yoongi replied.

“You know, maybe you should have Tae teach you our pack history and laws if you’re going to stay here,” you suggested.

“I don’t plan on staying,” Yoongi shot back, his eyes widening when you just snorted in reply.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re working in the hardware shop with Kibum, which no one has done in years, mind you, because the man is off his rocker half the time. If you think he’s gonna let you leave, then you got another thing coming. You’re definitely staying.”

“Regardless,” Yoongi continued, ignoring your words. “Who said that I wanted to learn more about your pack anyways?”

“It was just a suggestion. I mean, I figured that you were tried of looking like a complete dumbass anytime you talk to someone around here,” you smirked. “But hey, if you wanna stay in the dark, that’s on you.” You then turned around, swiftly walking out of the hardware shop. As the door shut behind you, Yoongi realized that maybe you had a point. He had been staying with your pack for almost a month now and his previous blissful ignorance was quickly turning into just plain ignorance. As he thought about it, he figured that having just a little bit of extra information could help him out.

............................

“God, I never thought you’d ask!” Taehyung squealed as he led Yoongi into a large room, where the walls were covered with floor to ceiling bookshelves. They were in the Head Hall, where all of the records of the pack’s history, laws, and every event and birth within the pack were kept.

“I only want to know the basics Taehyung,” Yoongi tried to say, jumping out of his seat slightly when Taehyung dropped a large book down onto the table in front of him.

“Our pack is almost 100 years old,” Taehyung smiled as he sat down next to Yoongi. “There’s more than just ‘the basics’ to be learned hyung.”

“Well, where should I start?” Yoongi wondered.

“Start here, with our family,” Taehyung told him as he opened the book and flipped the pages until he was almost to the end. “You don’t have to learn about the beginning of the pack right now, but starting with our parents would be a good point.”

“Ok,” Yoongi nodded, looking down at the page and beginning to read.

Alpha Kim Chan-woo rose to the coveted position of Pack Alpha in our year of 1990 after winning in ritual combat against his Omegean sister, Kim Dohee. In 1993, he was mated to Omega Park Mi-hee who then gave birth to two pups; a son named Namjoon in our year of 1994 and a daughter named Y/N who followed swiftly behind in our year of 1995.

Nothing of significance is to be noted of the family of our Pack Alpha and Pack Omega, until our year of 1998. While on a treaty trip to visit a pack in Daegu, Pack Alpha Chan-woo and Pack Omega Mi-hee came across an orphaned pup. Not being able to bring themselves to leave him alone, they allowed him to come back to pack territory with them, intent on welcoming him into their family.

The council of pack elders were staunchly opposed, citing the issues of lineage that could be encountered once their pups were of age. However, the two of them (especially Pack Alpha Chan-woo) were insistent on giving the abandoned pup a loving home and family. The councils of elders relented and since the little pup could not remember his name, he was dubbed ‘Kim Taehyung’ by Pack Omega Mi-hee, and he served as the last addition to their family.

“Wow,” Yoongi muttered before looking over at Taehyung. “Your parents sound like amazing people.”

“They were,” Taehyung nodded with a soft smile. “Here, we can skip forward a little bit.” Taehyung reached out and flipped forward a few pages, skimming over one before motioning to Yoongi for him to continue reading.

In our year of 2009, Pack Alpha Chan-woo and Pack Omega Mi-hee’s first born son, Namjoon, presented as an Alpha at the age of 15. There was a glorious celebration, as it’s known to be a blessing from the Gods to have a first born son become an Alpha. Their last born son, Taehyung, presented as well two years later as a Beta at the age of 16. This caused a great commotion, as there was only one other living Beta in the pack at the time, and he was an Elder.

After the presentation of Taehyung, there were many rumors abound as their daughter, Y/N, had not presented yet. Finally, in the autumn of our year 2012, Kim Y/N finally presented and surprised the entire pack. The celebration was unlike any the pack had seen in years, rivalling and even surpassing that of her elder Alpha brother.

“Why was Y/N’s presentation so important?” Yoongi asked Taehyung.

“That’s not important,” Taehyung said quickly, making Yoongi’s eye narrow. Taehyung moved forward and shut the book closed, pulling over another one and opening it up. “That’s enough about the history. Why don’t you read some of our laws and beliefs?”

“Alright,” Yoongi replied slowly, looking back down at the book.

This pack prides itself on being a place where Alphas, Betas, and Omegas are treated fairly and equally. In order to have a harmonious pack, the talents of all three subgenders are needed and without any of them, a pack cannot be fruitful.

An Alpha’s job, of course, is to be the breadwinner of their respective family. They are also the first line of defense when it comes to the safety of the pack, and are expected to protect it as such. However, Alphas are also expected to respect Betas and Omegas, especially the latter. While a pack wouldn’t be able to survive without it’s Alphas, too many prideful Alphas can lead to the eminent downfall of a pack. It is important for Alphas to be able to take a step back, realize that they don’t have all of the answers, and be able to turn to those who do; all for the good of the pack.

A Beta’s job is to be the supporter of Alphas and the confidants of Omegas. Betas have a hard job, because they are the closest to our non subgendered humans while still having the feelings, senses and thoughts of subgendered humans. Betas have the ability to not be as clouded by hormones and pheromones' as their Alpha and Omega packmates, which gives them the invaluable role of peacekeeper within a pack. Without Betas, a pack would dissolve into turmoil. However, it can be hard for Betas to remember this so reminding them of their importance is of the utmost priority; all for the good of the pack.

An Omega has what’s arguably the most important job within the pack; they are the main ones who give birth to and teach our pups. Within this pack, Omegas are always to be treated with the utmost respect, as our pack would have no future without them and their guidance. While Omegas are free to do what they please within this pack, many of them chose to stay home with their pups or devote their talents to teaching our pups, which are all extremely selfless decisions. Without them, Alphas would not have people to lean on, Betas would not have anyone to confide in, and the pack would die out. Treating them with the love and respect that they deserve only leads to happy Omegas who are content with their lives; which is all for the good of the pack.

“You know,” Yoongi spoke up suddenly. “I never thought about Omegas this way.”

“How did your old pack view Omegas, hyung?” Taehyung wondered. “I mean, you have to admit that your views are a little...sexist.”

“Basically, Omegas were objects and not people,” Yoongi shrugged. “They were there for Alphas to fuck and that’s it.”

“Ugh, one of those packs,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Well, does it make sense? The way that we view and treat Omegas?”

“Actually, yeah it does,” Yoongi admitted. “Like I said, I just never thought about it like this.”

“That’s understandable hyung, and it’s not completely your fault,” Taehyung replied. “We can’t help the way that we’re raised. The only thing that we can do is try to change our mindset, if you want to.”

“I guess that’s true,” Yoongi sighed. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What’s with the tattoos that you, Y/N, and Namjoon all have?” He wondered.

“Oh, you mean this,” Taehyung smiled, reaching over and lifting up the sleeve of his t-shirt on his left arm, showcasing the small, circular tattoo that was there. “It’s a crest.”

“Your family’s?” Yoongi guessed.

“Yep. After our parents died and Namjoon became Pack Alpha, we all got them since we’re the children of the former Pack Alpha and Omega,” Taehyung explained. “Namjoon has his right on the center of his chest because he’s the center and head of the pack. Y/N has hers on the right side and I have mines of the left because we’re Namjoon’s main supporters and we’re always going to have his back, through anything.”

“That’s amazing,” Yoongi found himself smiling lightly. “I kind of wish I had a family like you guys.”

“You can hyung,” Taehyung said, reaching over and setting his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I know that you keep saying that you don’t plan on staying, but I really don’t want you to go back out there on your own. We can give you a nice life here and you won’t ever have to risk what happened to you before happening again. So, will you stay?”

Yoongi couldn’t help but to chuckle because despite the façade that he had been putting on in front of Taehyung and everyone else that he talked to, he realized that he had already made his decision a while ago and he had a sneaking feeling that he wouldn’t regret the words that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts abo #bts imagines #bts yoongi #bts suga #suga abo #yoongi abo #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #suga smut #suga angst #suga fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #abo bts #werewolf bts

256 notes · View notes

pinkchanelbag · 3 years

Text

— there’s no one else; chapter two.

a jean kirstein x reader mafia au.

last | masterlist | next

series summary: a boy caught in a web with his survival depending on balancing niceties between his predators. a prim girl on thin ice that leads down the path of least resistance. no one too close and no one too far, no allegiance unquestioned, and no child whose value and future goes without evaluation like a playing card that determines their worth. to be destined for big things is more like being doomed to them, but that’s the way it goes. it’s just family matter.

chapter summary: the party begins.

wc: 1.9k.

cw: still nothing lol

note: putting this out short notice cause it’s JEANBOYS BIRTHDAYYY BABYYY anyway enjoy heeheee and my apologies for the slow plot thus far i swear it picks up trust me bro.

the venue is obnoxiously grand. the garden is more akin to a football field than anything else. there is no central lighting, but rather pure white string lights everywhere, everywhere. tucked behind and underneath tables and wrapped around trees and laying in the overhead greenery and in the bushes that act as walls. wherever you look, your eyes are strained, and you’re sure the dining hall can be seen from the moon.

speaking of the dining hall, the organizers cleverly blocked off the front entrance to the building so that one is forced to walk the expanse of the entire garden—surely to ooh and aah at its elegant taste—in order to get inside through the back door entrance. in other words, having to greet every single member of the family before so much as putting your clutch down.

you apply a friendly, attentive expression to your face each time pieck stops to greet someone new, having mastered the art of being engaged but not so engaged it’s troublesome, while in reality being completely disengaged in any way. as pieck converses with a bulky man drinking wine and you pick apart the key points (“we don’t got the ammo to make deals with top contractors—legal team in shambles—not good to have a weak spot”), really you are letting your eyes wander over the shrubbery which has been trimmed to perfection. yes, the lights are a pain and the band is too loud so early in the event, and there is not enough walking space between the bushes so people squeeze together to reach the large clearing of the garden. a perfectly obnoxious party, except you can’t help but appreciate the greenery. somehow, it is the only thing about this evening that doesn’t seem ridiculous. or maybe you’re just unusually irritated tonight.

your eyebrows knit so slightly at this realization. why are you being so disagreeable? impatience and intolerance seem to grow in your chest for no particular reason. you make a note to identify the source of your mood, and quickly resolve it. there’s work to be done.

karina braun is a kind, opinionated sheep of a woman. she is liked by all, and not because she’s particularly easy to like, but rather because she’s hard to hate. stuck in her times and not having much intellectual value, she is possibly the most important woman in all the families. being the mother of reiner braun and the head of the braun-galliard family, gives her luxury without responsibility. you’ve only met her once before, and she possessed the kind of ignorance many privileged older women have. but still she’s kind, so you can’t justify how she makes you weary.

her birthday, funnily enough, constitutes one of the very few gatherings that frowns upon trying to discuss family matter during the events, unlike a young girl’s birthday. it has to do with respect, you suppose.

you spend your first half-hour at the party hovering around pieck as she makes small talk with associates, becoming increasingly nervous at your lack of breakthrough in communication with the family. you know the most important thing is your encounter with karina, and that will open up further talks with others, but you stall to approach her, imperceptibly steering pieck further away from the centre table where the older woman sits. not yet.

“are you going to keep leading me through the same semi-circle, or are you just going to go talk to her?” pieck asks calmly. you curse her intelligence in your mind.

“i’m just nervous,” you murmur, smiling politely at a group of men at a distance that eyes you like the business deal you are.

“you should be, but that doesn’t change that you have to do it.” your eyes flick to look at the woman beside you for a moment. her expression is not encouraging or consoling, nor is it unsettling. it’s fitting. what you and pieck have is less than friendship but more than acquaintanceship. often you feel as thought she’s reading your emotions like an open book, which can be scary considering how many of them you really hide. but if and when she sees them, she doesn’t seem to care, whether they’re incriminating or worthy of sympathy. she sees you, and that is all. it’s not a comfort, nor a curse.

“what are you waiting for?” she says, but it’s a genuine question rather than a push to complete the task at hand. you realize you’re waiting for porco. you want porco at your side. you want his strength and his jagged-edged ambition, and the forcefulness that makes you do the things your heart has no energy for.

“i just think it would be better if the boys were here,” you breathe. again, pieck sees your meaning, and your fright, and leaves it be.

for the next eternity, you drink champagne and stretch back your memory to know if all parties are this boring once you become an adult, or if the braun family has a particular talent for making you crave the sight of paint drying. the closest thing to entertainment—and not the hired folk who attempt to call themselves singers—is gabi’s voice, which can be heard no matter where in the garden you stand. she tells stories, strikes up arguments, and gathers food and drink with her friends, all at top volume. for some reason, you don’t find amusement in this either, and really start to worry about this attitude problem you’ve got this night. to add on, porco’s meeting seems to stretch painfully long. it was a short-notice meeting, which either meant something very very good or very very bad—more so when he told you he was being picked up for it by reiner, colt, and annie. some of the most important family members gathering for an emergency meeting means trouble. your anxiety bubbles in your stomach, and you worry that your not approaching the woman of the hour is reaching a point where it might be seen as—rude.

the guests are alerted that dinner is ready. it’s not long before each person has situated themselves along the tables that line the large garden. the seating plan is loosely maintained, but you have nowhere near the entitlement to mingle among other tables. you find yours and stay at it, and it’s only then that you get an idea of just how many people are at this event. each table is packed, holding roughly six people, and there are too many to count in the chaos, but they create a semi-rectangle in three respective rows. you make out countless bodies but few faces, just an endless sea of tuxedos and lovely dresses. at the front of the garden is the head table, where karina sits alone save gabi’s bouncing body going back and forth. your table is is only a few feet from hers, but you take a seat that puts your back to her front so you don’t make the unforgivable mistake of accidental eye contact. you’re to sit with porco, and his table—the galliard table—is the one closest in importance to the braun table. you are the only one at the table, further reminder of porco’s tardiness. the longer you fiddle with the white cloth on the surface, the more you worry about what exactly the meeting could mean.

and then pieck comes and sits across from you without a word. as always, you know it’s only family matter—the concern that you look out of place—motivating her and not your obvious discomfort, but you’re grateful nonetheless.

as the servers stream into the garden like white-clad troops armed with dome platters, a champagne glass’s unmistakeable ding ding ding catches the attention of the guests. a table near karina’s opposite side, not quite flanking her but near enough to display some importance. a man stands with his glass raised, looking unfitting for the position with the way his arm hesitantly dips and re-straightens. bertholdt, yet another notable name in braun-galliard (and it’s your job to know all the names), seems to be the only person around able to give the welcome speech. it’s easy to listen only selectively to the announcements and shoutouts, disregarding all the thank yous and remember whens and listening in for honored guests (who are honored because they’ve proven themselves useful). luckily for you, bertholdt’s clumsy speech has a clear distinction between the two categories, his eyes downturned to cards in which he lists off important guests and whatever thing they did to end up on he list before him.

“a special welcome to general theo magath of the mexican military, who has been so generous to the family’s trade routes…” bertholdt’s words are careful, partly because of the nature of the things he is sharing, but also because all his actions have been careful since his fall from grace. formerly one of the most reliable heavy men in the family, bertholdt’s reputation was shot to hell when an important—very important—family member was killed on his watch. despite having happened years and years ago now, it took extensive efforts to just convince the higher-ups that he wasn’t in bed with the killer. it’s common knowledge that bertholdt’s incident was the first and last time someone “had it easy” from braun-galliard due to his close friendship with reiner himself.

“an especially relieving guest to see here tonight—“

and—finally—the stragglers stalk into the clearing. like most others, you hear of their arrival from the ripple of murmurs long before you see them, seeing as their whereabouts are blocked off by tables and bushes. a few people stand up, but are quickly beckoned to sit down again and redirect their attention to the speaker, who clears his throat nervously.

“carry on, bertholdt,” reiner’s affecting voice breaks through the space, and it’s enough to settle the audience, or at least have them pretend to pay attention while the late-comers shuffle through the outskirts of the tables to find their seats. bertholdt proceeds slowly.

“…a person i’m sure we will all come to rely on during this chaotic time…”

you catch the first glimpse of porco as he turns the final corner of the rectangle, reiner walking before him and colt and annie just behind. reiner is the first to arrive to his table, the invitees seeming to hold their chests a little taller for the family’s true head—in every way except on paper—as he slides into his seat and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek.

“…a great legacy behind him and a bright career ahead, and we’re surely glad he’s kicked it off in our company…” bertholdt goes on. you and porco’s eyes meet, and immediately you know something is the matter; you’re just not sure if it’s fury or ecstasy in his gleam.

colt and annie find their seats in the table just after yours, and finally porco is near enough to see—and ignore—the look of alarmed curiosity on your face. he arrives to the table, giving pieck a look of “we’ll talk later,” and briefly stopping behind your chair. his calloused hands are on your arms for a moment, running up and down comfortingly.

“—a happy welcome to—“

“hey, doll.”

“—jean kirstein.”

and your eyes flick away from porco’s and into the crowd of faceless bodies, and the anxieties that kept your brain buzzing with life halt and collapse to the floor of your mind like dead flies.

jean?

#nia.tne #nia.jean #nia.txt #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein headcanons #jean kirschstein #aot x reader #aot #attack on titan #snk #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #pieck finger

93 notes · View notes

lunaserenade · 3 years

Text

Cloak and Dagger

Masterlist

Author’s Note: The fic that no one asked for and took me a month to write 😂 Thank you to @reddead-trash, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @icanbeyourjedi, and @sugarontherims for enduring my ramblings and reading through my MANY drafts. Also I threw straight up shade to my Florida senator Rick Scott in this. *chef’s kiss*

Paring: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x F!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Summary: To stop a corrupt politician you and Bucky must go undercover at a campaign fundraiser.

***

It was a warm and humid summer afternoon in Delacroix, Louisiana as Sam Wilson and James 'Bucky' Barnes worked idly on giving the ‘Paul and Darlene’ a fresh paint job. Bucky had come down to visit for the weekend, helping out wherever he could while he and Sam worked on finding new leads about a disturbing rumor they had been hearing. There were whispers of a scientist who was attempting to recreate the super soldier serum, although there had been attempts over the decades it was looking like this one was credible. The shrill ring of Sam's phone cut into the tranquil silence by the water, Bucky watched Sam Wilson with mild interest as he spoke quickly on the phone.

“Well I haven’t heard from you in a while. ” Sam said, an impish smile on his lips as he looked at Bucky. “That’s great news. I think I have the perfect person for you. We’ll be there tomorrow night.”

“... what did you just sign me up for?” Bucky said with a sigh as Sam hung up.

“We’re going to DC to help a friend out. You’re going to need a suit.” Sam replied, entirely too amused for Bucky’s liking.

***

True to his word the next evening Sam was knocking on your apartment door, greeting you with a huge hug and introducing you to his tall, dark, and very handsome friend.

“This is Bucky, he’s the one I mentioned. He’ll be fantastic back up.” Sam said, clearly getting great joy out of the situation.

“What exactly are we doing anyway?” Bucky said with a raised eyebrow.

“Sam told me to keep an ear to the ground about any rumors of someone trying to recreate the super soldier serum, while I was gathering intelligence on a possible corrupt senator from Florida I found out he’s funding it. Tomorrow night is a fundraiser for his reelection campaign, I need to sneak into his office and get the name of the scientist he’s funding so we can squash his reelection and this new attempt at the serum.” You explained as you took a seat in your living room with them.

“Too many people can recognize me on The Hill, I’ll be spotted easily. That’s why she needs you, someone who can go a little more unnoticed when needed.” Sam affirmed.

“And you’re positive this senator is the one masterminding the whole thing?” Bucky queried.

“Absolutely, he bounced the money through several dummy accounts, but we managed to track it back to him. I need you to meet me here tomorrow night, we’ll be going into the event as Mr and Mrs. Sandoval. I had a contact intercept their invitation so we could get in.” You said matter-of-factly. As you studied Bucky you found yourself suddenly looking forward to the event tomorrow night, having a gorgeous man in a suit by your side was definitely a perk. Especially one who you knew could keep up in a fight if needed, from what Sam had told you about him. You had heard of The Winter Soldier, hell who hadn’t, but you were never one to judge someone by their past. If Sam said he was solid, he was solid.

“Sounds like you have this pretty planned out, what if something goes sideways?” Bucky asked

“I think both of us can handle thinking on our feet.” You said with an arched eyebrow. “Unless you’re having cold feet.”

“... I’ll be here at seven.” Bucky said with a small huff, slightly offended by your implication, much to your amusement. Sometimes a kick in the pride was all you need to get a man motivated.

***

You were attempting to zip up your dress when you heard the sharp raps on your apartment door, holding it closed with one hand you opened the door for Bucky with the other. It would be a blatant lie to say that the sight of him in the well-fitted suit didn’t make your mouth water and as you took in the full view of him with greedy eyes you saw he was smiling as he walked into the living room.

“Does the suit pass your inspection?” Bucky mused.

“You clean up well, sir.” You replied with a coy smile. “Can you help me with this zipper, I can’t get it for the life of me.”

“I-... of course.” Bucky stammered, slightly flustered as you turned around, your dress unzipped until right above the swell of your ass. Ever so careful he reached out and slowly dragged the zipper of your dress up, his fingers lightly grazing your back, giving you goosebumps.

“Thank you.” You said, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks, as you turned to face him.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” Bucky asked as he attempted to adjust his tie.

“We need to get into his office, my contact said there is a folder with all the information I need in his desk.” You smirked and arching an eyebrow at Bucky.

“Sounds fairly straightforward. What’s the catch?” He queried.

“He is starting to suspect someone has been poking into his new ‘business venture’ so there is increased security on the office floors.” You gave him a sly grin “We need to get in and out without being seen. Although I’m not opposed to light violence if it comes to that.”

“Duly noted,” Bucky said with a laugh and he offered you his arm. “Are you ready for this?”

“Let’s take this bastard down.” You said, slipping your arm in his and headed out of the apartment.

***

The building had a beautiful conference center was absolutely gorgeous, you had to admit. High vaulted ceilings with the soft glowing light of chandeliers hung overhead as you and Bucky walked arm in arm, the click clack of your stilettos' on the tile echoing in the lobby with each step. A well dressed young man stood just in front of the entrance, taking invitations from the various guests as they entered. Bucky reached into his suit pocket and presented the gold leaf embellished invitation to him.

“Mr and Mrs Sandoval?” He asked as he checked his list.

“Indeed.” You replied and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, tucking yourself into his side. You had to be convincing, or at least that was the excuse you were going to use.

“Senator Scott thanks you for attending, enjoy your evening.” The young man stated as he gestured toward the room and stood to the side.

Bucky led you around the conference room, his hand resting on your lower back, as you both surveyed the room. You gave his side a light squeeze and nodded towards an ‘Employees Only’ door.

“There is supposed to be a stairwell through there. The senator’s office is on the seventh floor.” You said softly and Bucky nodded.

“Security looks light down here, mostly around the Senator, we should be able to slip through easily enough.”

“Famous last words.” You grinned and made your way towards the door, waiting for a moment outside before quietly slipping through. The two of you made your way quickly down the hall and into the stairwell. You quickly regretted your choice in footwear as you climbed the seven flights with Bucky, but managed to keep pace with him. Just as you were about to open the door to the seventh floor corridor Bucky reached out to stop you.

“Someone’s coming.” His voice barely above a whisper, he pulled you close and stepped behind the door. “I can knock him out but it won’t give us much time in the senator’s office before someone finds him”

"You know this is a stupid idea, right?" You said as you peered around him.

"I do." Bucky affirmed

"And that it could fail spectacularly, probably ending in injury?" You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"More likely his than mine, but yes." Bucky gave you a grin that could only lead to trouble.

"... alright let’s do this." You said, squaring your shoulders as you heard security approach the door. The poor security guard never stood a chance. As soon as the door shut behind him Bucky had him in a choke hold, a hand over his mouth to stop any cries for help. You were impressed, the ease and speed with which Bucky took him down was almost elegant. He lowered the now unconscious guard to the ground, just behind the door, and reached for your hand.

“Ready?” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“Always.” His goofy confidence and glee rubbing off on you as you hurried down the hall hand in hand with him.

“This is his office, cover me.” You said quickly, hiking your dress up to reveal a thigh gun holster and a lock pick set tucked behind the gun against your leg. Bucky’s eyes raked over your body and he felt an expected surge of lust run through him as he turned to block you from view and keep a lookout. Within a minute you had the lock picked and held the door open for him.

“Age before beauty.” You grinned at him and gave a wink, earning an eye roll in return.

The office was large, a wall of books sitting behind the senator’s desk,

“How long do you think we have?” You muttered as you began to pick the lock of the desk.

“Three or four minutes, tops.” He replied, listening closely at the door for any sounds of movement outside the office.

“Good, I only need two.” The lock turned with a click and you quickly riffled through the drawer. “Ah ha! I’ve got it. Let’s get the hell out of here before we get caught.”

The pair of you quickly exited the office, Bucky’s hand lingering on your lower back as you walked out together. You weren’t sure if it was the cool metal of his hand on your lower back giving you goosebumps or being so close to him, but there was no time to sort through that as you heard voices coming from down the hall.

“Have you seen Brady? I didn’t see him on the rounds on the sixth floor.” A male voice said and you felt your heart race. There was no way to sneak out without being seen and you needed to think quickly. You backed up against the wall and tugged Bucky close, his chest bumping lightly against yours as he steadied himself.

“What are you doing?” He whispered as you pulled him tightly against your body.

“Trust me, this is the only way we’re getting out without fighting our way out.” You said quickly and reached for his face, crushing your lips to his. You could feel him stiffen in shock at first but as he wrapped his arms around you he eagerly responded, parting your lips with his tongue to deepen the kiss. For a moment the world around you faded away as you tugged him closer, fingers threading through his hair until you heard security shout.

“HEY! YOU TWO! This is a restricted floor!” The guard shouted, as he stomped his way down the hall towards both of you. You pulled away from Bucky reluctantly, staring up into his blue eyes.

“I’mmmm sorry, We got a bit lost, didn't we baby?” You slurred your words dramatically, slipping into the role of a drunken couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“Mmm, yes we did.” Bucky pulled you close, pressing a sloppy kiss to your hair. “Let’s go get another drink, honey.”

“I think you both have had more than enough.” The guard rolled his eyes, clearly fooled, and gestured to the elevator. “Come on, I think it’s time for the pair of you to leave.”

“Alriggggght alright, damn man. No need to get in a huff.” Bucky slurred, holding his hands up in ‘defeat’. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders he guided you to the elevator.

“Buzzkill.” You muttered at the guard as the door slid shut. The moment you were alone you rested your head on Bucky’s chest, his heart beating wildly and it wasn’t because of the guard. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

***

“Do you do this a lot?” Bucky murmured as you exited the building, a full moon hanging overhead in the evening sky.

“Break into government officials' offices for dirt or kiss gorgeous men to get out of a sticky situation?” You replied with an impish grin and shivering in the night air.

“Both.” He laughed as he tugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

“I do what I need to to get the job done. As for the second part? You could always give me a call and find out.” You bit your lip, feeling bold.

“Maybe I will.” Bucky grinned and slipped a vibranium arm around your waist.

Bucky called the next night.

***

tagged: @diva-1992, @yespolkadotkitty , @sarahjkl82-blog, @seasonschange-butpeopledont, @mrsparknuts , @disgruntledspacedad, @mrschiltoncat, @giselatropicana , @sugarontherims , @cynic-spirit , @supernaturalgirl, @farfromjustordinary, @buckstaposition , @evelynseventyr, @emesispo, @theamuz , @keeper0fthestars

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #tfatws #sam wilson #captain america #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan #reader insert #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #undercover

55 notes · View notes

dameronology · 4 years

Text

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 4

summary: it’s the morning after the night before. time for a very awkward conversation.

warnings: warnings, very very brief alluding to smut but rly only if u squint

song for this chapter is best friend by rex orange county! also the series masterlist can be found through the link to my main masterlist in my bio :) enjoy!

- jazz

You were’t sure what you needed more the next day: painkillers, to help your hangover or another round of drinks, to help you forget what you’d done night before.

Or should I say - who you had done the night before.

You didn’t sleep with your co-workers, much less your boss. God, it was almost as bad as if you’d slept with Merl - no, you couldn’t even let your brain go there. You’d already thrown up twice that morning (once into Jack’s toilet and then once into the subway tracks) and you didn’t need to make yourself do it again. Your stomach was churning and it felt as though the Blue Man Group were rehearsing their drum set in your frontal lobe. You’d tried to nurse it with a large block coffee and a half a packet of painkillers but alas, to no success.

Somehow, though, your physical pains were the least of your worries. The fact you’d snuck out of Jack’s apartment and left without a word was playing over and over again in your head - so much so, that you almost didn’t come into work. Almost. Not even this situation was enough to make you take a day off.

‘Is there a reason you’ve been stood outside the office for fifteen minutes, agent?’ You jumped at the sound of Champ’s voice. He glanced between the Starbucks coffee in his hand and the bruise around your left eye (fuck, you’d forgotten about that), quirking an eyebrow. ‘Rough night?’

‘No.’ You quickly answered. ‘Sir.��

‘So you what...walked into a door?’

Got drunk, tried to square up to a guy, got punched and then fucked my boss - thanks for asking.

‘Yeah.’ You nodded. ‘I’m not normally clumsy but I forget that doors in America...go the other way? You know, drive on the other side of the road, use a different weight system, doors that go-’

‘- you can stop now, Percival.’ Champ cut you off. ‘Make sure you look after yourself.’

‘Right.’ You nodded. ‘Thank you.’

With the agent staring you at expectantly, you had no choice but to go into the office. You forced a smile, using your weight to budge open the door and step inside.

The sound of your heels against the floor announced your entrance; the faint smell of Jack’s aftershave wasn’t normally that noticeable, but that morning, it wasn’t doing you any favours. You stood in the door way for a moment, letting it shut behind you as your eyes landed on the cowboy.

He didn’t even look at you. Why wasn’t he looking at you? Fuck, had you upset him-

‘Nice of you to make an appearance, Percy.’ He suddenly spoke, flashing you a smile as he tore his eyes away from his computer screen. ‘How’s the shiner? Your buddy sure did pack a punch, huh?’

‘Uh, yeah.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘It’s fine, a little sore.’

‘You should pop down the lab on your break. Ginger will sort it out in no time.’ He leant back in his chair.

‘Are we just not gonna talk about the fact we slept together last night?’

Jack suddenly jumped in surprise, eyes widening. Right, clearly not.

‘I was trying to find a way to bring up such a sensitive subject.’ He replied. ‘But I guess I don’t gotta worry.’

You sighed as you walked over to your desk, placing your bag down and taking a seat. Fuck, your head was killing. You rubbed your eyes and cleared your throat, forcing yourself to continue the difficult conversation you’d just unwittingly started. You got the vibe that people in the South probably didn’t talk about sex so crudely. Twenty-something years of hanging around Eggsy Unwin had de-sensitised you to the idea of it being a taboo subject.

‘I’m sorry I left this morning without saying anything.’ You sheepishly murmured. ‘When I do stuff like that, it’s usually with random guys I found in a bar.’

The biggest question that kept playing over and over in your head was why?

Why Jack? You’d rebuffed Tequila’s advances before he could even finish the damn sentence and yet you’d slipped into bed with Jack with ease. It was probably to do with the fact he’d been such a good kisser, and the rest did not disappoint. It had been good. Really good. Possibly the best you’d ever had, actually. He’d said at the beginning of the night that he was going to help you kick back and chill out and...yeah, he’d done a pretty good job.

‘It doesn’t affect me, sugar.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t see why it has to change anything between us.’

Of course. Had you forgotten who you were talking to? This was Whiskey, the biggest flirt at the fucking agency. He’d probably had a different girl the night before you, and he was probably going to have somebody else tonight. He hadn’t said or done anything that could have lead you to believe it meant something more. Sure, you’d become friends and saw each other day and yeah, he drove you home sometimes because he didn’t want you to walk home in the dark and he had invited you out to help you de-stress when you needed it most.

Did you like Jack? Did you want it to be something more? Did the last few weeks all....add up to something? Then again, maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he was just looking out for you, because you were a young woman, alone in the city. Perhaps last night had just been...a fluke. A glitch in the system. A wobble in what was otherwise a completely professional relationship.

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded, scratching the back of your neck. It really felt like you should have said something more, because it felt like something more. ‘It didn’t mean anything.’

He quirked a brow at you. ‘So we’re good?’

You forced a smile. ‘Better than ever, Whiskey.’

You’d had one night stands before. They were standard, really - but it was rare you found yourself thinking about them the next day. Something between you just worked. You couldn’t put your finger on it, in the same way you couldn’t spell out the sudden urge to kiss him last night, but some things just couldn’t be explained. Your attraction to him certainly couldn’t be - he was older, used the worst nicknames and spoke to you entirely in Southern metaphors. But, as aforementioned, he’d also looked after you.

Maybe that was what you needed. Maybe it was what you wanted-

- You stopped yourself there. No time to unpack all of that, especially when you were this hungover and spent most of your waking hours spitting fire about how independent you were. You’d had Tequila pinned to the wall less than twelve hours ago for trying to make move on you. It was probably something to save for therapy (which was on your to-do list).

The tension in the room felt a little more reflective of a fight between a couple than it did of two friends who had casually slept together the night before. Normally, the room was just calm, filled with the only sounds of you two occasionally cracking jokes or your fingers desperately tapping away at your respective computers. Now? It was tense. Suffocatingly so, as though it could have swallowed you whole.

‘I’m gonna get more coffee.’ You announced, abruptly. ‘And I guess I’ll pay Ginger a visit to sort out this annoying fucking bruise. You want anything from Starbucks?’

‘Didn’t you just go?’ He observed.

‘Yeah, but I want some fresh air.’

As you passed Jack’s desk on the way out, he reached out and grabbed your hand, quickly tangling your fingers in his. He peered up at you, brow furrowed - you were off. He knew you were off. He’d proven time and time again over the last month that he could read you like a fucking book. You were a clown for thinking that he wouldn’t notice the fact you’d completely retracted into yourself, or that you’d suddenly from from Jack to Whiskey.

‘You’re annoyed at me.’ He observed.

‘I’m not annoyed at you.’ You didn’t try to pull your hand back. ‘I’m annoyed at...myself, I guess.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I let last night happen.’ You explained. ‘I shouldn’t have made a move on you, I shouldn’t have broken every professional boundary between us for one night of meaningless-’

‘- what if it wasn’t meaningless?’

You froze, suddenly snatching your hand back. What were you meant to say to that? You couldn’t work out if you wanted it to mean something. There was so much to untangle but your main concern was sorting out your sore nose and banging head ache.

‘Jack...’ you murmured. ‘I can’t talk about this right now. My head is on fire and my nose is fucking purple.’

He stood up, reaching for his jacket. ‘C’mon then, I’ll take you down the lab.’

‘I can get there myself, really.’

‘D’you know where it is, sugar?’

‘I can work it out.’ You shot back. ‘I’m smart-’

Before you could finish your sentence, he had a hand on the small of your back and was guiding you out the room and down the hall. That was new; he hadn’t really shown you any signs of physical touch - excluding last night, obviously - but the progression felt...natural. Heck, Jack hadn’t even realised he was doing it, and you didn’t feel the urge to complain or push him off.

That was probably saying something.

‘There we go.’ Ginger murmured, slowly dabbing at the bruise with...something. ‘Good as new.’

You felt as good as new. After putting a weird paste on your nose and forcing some fancy, top-of-the-range painkillers down your throat, your hangover was gone and your nose was no longer stinging. You’d been out here thinking that Kingsman had been far ahead with their medical technology, but this place made it look Victorian. You were tempted to ask if they had an amnesia-inducing medication that could make you and Jack forget the events of last night, but then you realised something.

You didn’t want to forget.

‘Thank you, Ginger.’ You smiled. ‘I really appreciate it.’

‘What did you do to end up with a busted nose and black eye, anyways?’ Ginger raised her eyebrows.

‘Our girl tried to deck a man twice her size because she thought he was following a woman into the bathroom.’ Jack replied, gently rubbing your shoulder. That’s fine. That was totally fine. You were fine.

‘I had the right intentions.’ You muttered. ‘Anyways - Calahan isn’t gonna catch himself, so I gotta get back to work. Thank you again, G.’

That was code for Jack and I are about to have a very awkward conversation. To be frank, you would have begrudgingly left at the whole ‘it didn’t mean anything’ point, but he’d been the one to push it, to float out the idea that it could mean something. You’d thought it, but he’d been the one to say it. That was the huge difference between the two of you. You could compartmentalise your feelings when they proved to be an inconvenience. Jack Daniels, however, was...brash. When he felt something, he had to say it. It was a blessing and a curse.

You both walked back to your office in silence, once again with Jack’s hand resting on the small of your back. He knew you didn’t need looking after - hell, you’d proved that ten times over - but it almost like he was keeping an eye on you. He’d seen you square up to two different men in the last twenty four hours. It was for your safety, really.

The minute the door had shut behind you both, that tension immediately returned. This time, however, there was a little hint of excitement. Anticipation, maybe.

‘So...’ you trailed off, leaning against your desk. Awkwardly playing with your hands, you peered over at him. ‘Let’s recap: we slept together, I snuck out, we said it didn’t mean anything and then two seconds later, you retracted that statement.’

‘I didn’t retract it.’ Jack insisted. ‘I was just reading your signals - which are confusing as fuck, by the way, sweetheart - because you were the one who walked out.’

‘My signals?’ You scoffed. ‘You were the one who invited me out the in first place! And the one who drives me home every damn night so I don’t have to walk alone!’

‘You’re the one who’s being as skitterish as a calf at a goddamn smoke out-’

‘- as a what at a what?!’ You spluttered. ‘You’re the one calls me sweetheart all the time!’

‘Yeah, well, you’re the one who kissed me first-’

‘- just shut up a second!’ You held your finger out to him. He silenced immediately. 'I feel like we’re overcomplicating this.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘We are?’

‘Whi - Jack.’ You took a deep breath. ‘I am going to ask you this once, and once only. If you say no, I’ll move on and we can act like this never happened. If you say yes...we can discuss it, okay?’

‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘Go for it.’

‘Did last night mean anything to you?’ You asked the question slowly, in the same tone you might ask a child what small object they had in their mouth.

‘Not at first.’ Jack replied. ‘I didn’t go into it with the intention of it meaning something.’

You frowned. ‘Do go on.’

‘I was gonna come in this morning and pretend like it never happened. Then I saw you, with that stupid bruise and stupid smile and I realised that you’re brash and dumb and fucking gorgeous and ...shit, you’re spiteful as hell and I’m a little terrified of you but damn, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking obsessed with you.’

‘Well, shit.’ You murmured. It was the answer you’d wanted just...in a lot more words.

For a long time, your head strong nature and inability to tolerate ninety-nine percent of the human race was something people had used a reason not to like you. But Jack? Oh, no. Not him. He saw it as a challenge, maybe. He had an urge to cut through the thorny outside and trying to see what you held on the inside. He’d see little bits of it here and there - your smile when you spoke about Eggsy, or the way you’d gone out your way to try and protect that woman - but he was determined to find more. He wanted to find more. You were an enigma, a vortex of swear words and brash decisions, and hell, you were sucking him right in.

‘You gonna say anything more than shit?’ He urged.

You’d never been all that good with words. Didn’t actions speak louder? That’s what your mum had always said, and it had proven true in your line of work too. Punching the daylights out of someone was always a clearer threat than a concerning phone call. Pulling your weight on every mission was more proof of hard work than gloating to your uppers about your achievements.

And kissing your boss was a much clearer sign of telling him that you liked him too rather than just verbalising it.

Jack almost veered backwards when you lunged at him, just about catching you in his arms. Your lips crashed together - it was a little more desperate than last night, but then again, so was the whole situation. His arms caught you at the waist, holding you against his chest as he kissed you right back.

After a few moments, you pulled back for air. Neither of you said anything, instead choosing to just stare at each other with disbelief.

‘That was very unprofessional of me.’ You admitted. ‘But I do like you Jack and I’m worried it’s going to be a problem-’

‘- since when has mutual attraction ever been a problem?’ Jack practically snorted at the idea. ‘I like you. You like me. I don’t get what’s so complicated about that, sugar.’

‘Because it’s unprofessional! You’re my boss and I’m here to work.’ You suddenly took a step back, complex feelings finally colliding. ‘To prove myself and get a promotion!’

‘And you’re doing that just fine!’ He shot back. ‘Better than fine! You work your ass off ten times harder than any agent I’ve ever met. I don’t know how those uppity goddamn suit-makers haven’t realised what an asset you are.’

‘Are you saying that because you like me or because you mean it?’

‘Ouch.’ He murmured. ‘Even if I couldn’t stand you, I would still recognise the fact you’re one of the best agents I’ve ever seen.’

‘Wouldn’t that be an ideal world.’ You snorted.

‘How about this?’ Jack reached forward, taking your hands in his. ‘It’s clear that whatever happens now, we probably can’t go back to how things were. I can try, but I promise you it won’t happen.’

You nodded in agreement.

‘So, you can back track on everything we’ve just said and let it affect how we work together, or we can just lean into this whole stupid thing.’ He continued. ‘We’ll work together and play together. Two birds one stone, just until you go back to London.’

This was something of a rare opportunity: mutual attraction. Aside from the occasional one night stand in London, you barely had the chance to have fun. After years of hard work, maybe you deserved it. It was just...fooling around. You’d both admitted you liked one another but it was hardly a grand declaration at love. There were some feelings at stake, but not enough for you to be worried.

‘We need ground rules.’ You replied. ‘I like you and you like me but we have to put the brakes on it there. You have to promise not to fall in love with me. Obsession only, okay?’

Jack tilted his head to the side, as if to say fair enough. ‘Sure thing. Anything else?’

‘The minute this starts to interfere with my work, I’m cutting you out.’ Your tone was a little sterner. ‘Heck, the second it happens, this stops. It’s...an addition to my work, not a replacement.’

‘As your superior...’ he said the words teasingly. You hated that you loved it. ‘I will make that doesn’t happpen.’

‘Good.’ You gave him a curt nod. ‘Then it’s settled.’

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. Jack peered down at it, almost waiting for you to retract it and break into a grin. But that didn’t happen. You were completely serious. Could he put it down to British weirdness? Probably.

‘You drive me fucking insane.’ The cowboy grabbed your hand, yanking you towards him and capturing you in another kiss.

tags: @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @imananxiousdriver @phoenixhalliwell @66wookies @paintballkid711 @waatermelon-sugaar @hepburnwritess @haileyybird @xjaywritesx @jabbajambler @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @welcometothepedroverse @wickedmuse (message me if you wanna be added!)

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x you #kingsman x reader #kingsman imagines

146 notes · View notes

wasabito-reblogs · 4 years

Text

here’s my entry for the konoha simps server collab :) check out the rest of the entries here or at @bakubabes-hatake’s page!

prompt: occasions

word count: 2.5k

tags&warnings: established relationship, domestic fluff, hints of spiciness at the end (nothing major)

summary: In which you and Aizawa rediscover your synergy

❤︎

There was a sudden click at the front door, following telltale sounds of a key being jimmied into the lock. Both were enough to break the still quietude and have Aizawa cracking open a bloodshot eye, his sleepy, hooded gaze darting around the room until he finally spotted the sudden intrusion.

You stood at the foyer, slipping off your work shoes, with a look of mild concern on your face. Your lips held a slight frown that looked misplaced, especially when directed at him. He knew immediately that he’d fucked up.

A damning, half-empty cup of coffee sitting innocently on top of your old Heroics in Society textbook drew your attention first, before any of the other things. In your shared living room, the state of disarray all pointed to the simple fact that your boyfriend had come home and gone straight to grading.

Aizawa coughed and sat up straighter on the sofa. Though his body moved in slow motion, his mind raced to find some logical reasoning to explain why he was, once again, neglecting his health in favor of work.

Stuck to his chest was the exam sheet he had been eye-balling before succumbing to fatigue. Even after a somewhat restful nap, Aizawa could scarcely make out what hieroglyphics Kaminari had written on his paper.

You came and leaned into the back of the chair to read over Aizawa’s shoulder. Pointing to the true and false section of the exam, you wondered aloud, “Why do the T’s and F’s look so similar? I can barely tell which is which.”

He snorted lightly with a roll of his eyes, “That’s probably the point.” He said, but considering he had just woken up, it sounded more like grumbled nonsense.

Your noncommittal hum in response was all he got before you plucked the sheet from his hands. He watched as you came around and stacked up his papers, making sure to separate graded works from the ones he had yet to look at. How many times had you caught him like this? Passed out on the living room couch with class 1A’s assignments scattered every which way.

“You really gotta take better care of yourself, Shou.”

“I know,” he tugged on your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened at his words and the sleepy expression on his face. It was almost too endearing. “Yeah, okay, you say that now, but I’m sure you’ll be back to it again tomorrow.”

Aizawa couldn’t even deny your claim. He was a workaholic through and through. Most of his time was spent doing some form of work, whether it be in managing his class as a U.A teacher or patrolling the city as a pro-hero.

No one understood the toll it took on him better than you. You were a quirk counselor at Ketsubutsu Academy, after all, so it was your job to make sure that both students and staff were taking care of their physical and mental health. A lot of your work tended to trickle into the home, usually in the form of fussing over your boyfriend and making sure he was taking breaks and getting proper rest.

“You’re home early,” he commented. He kept your hand in his lap to fiddle idly with your fingers. “Something happen? … You look nervous.”

Even half-asleep, Shouta was astute as ever.

“Ah, not really. There’s this thing at work tonight, but I think I might skip it.”

His brows furrowed as he considered your words, “A work thing? Tonight?”

“Yeah, just a little ceremony for the staff, no biggie.”

“Sounds important. Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“I—” you fumbled; how could you forget this man could read you like a book? Whenever you were dodgy or evasive, he knew just where to press until you were honest with him. “It’s actually an award ceremony. I’m being honored for my work at the school.”

Aizawa smiled, showing off a row of teeth in a way that made your heart skip a beat. You nearly missed his next words.

“I’m proud of you, kitten. Seriously, you deserve the recognition.” His long fingers threaded into yours, and you felt centered in the feeling of his firm grip like you were finally on solid footing. It definitely helped ease the tension off your shoulders.

“Thanks, Shou.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “So, what time is this thing, because I’m not letting you sit at home and miss it. And before you argue, consider the logic in remaining home when you know you’re being honored for something like this.” He stood from the sofa, stretching, and then cracking his neck. “It just isn’t rational.”

“So...you’re coming with me?”

You couldn’t hold back the surprise in your voice. It seemed almost too good to be true, you and Shouta going out together and to an event, no less. Usually, it took being dragged out of the house by his coworkers for him to enjoy a Friday night off.

Not to mention, no one knew of your relationship. His friends probably had their own assumptions but no one on your end knew a thing. This would be your first public outing as a couple.

“Of course I’m coming with you.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You smiled, realizing it was.

❤︎

An hour later, you stood behind a seated Aizawa in the middle of your bathroom with a towel looped around your body, still dripping from your recent shower.

“You have to hold still, baby, or else it’s gonna hurt,” you mumble while adjusting your grip on the hairbrush.

He had asked you to help him out with his hair, but the task proved quite tricky. Its length and thickness gave you no other choice but to work in smaller sections, which you had no issues with. If only your fingers in Shouta’s hair didn’t put him straight to sleep again. This was the third time he’d nodded off and caused the brush to snag at his roots.

With a sigh, you attempted to run the brush gingerly through his hair once more. In the past, you’d seen pictures of your boyfriend as a child, always with his hair looking unkempt and so obviously unattended to; at least before he grew old enough to do it himself. Funnily enough, it was like you finally understood the reason why.

After a few more minutes of careful ministrations, you patted his shoulder and smiled. “All done!”

Aizawa looked up bleary-eyed, then shook his hair out and ran his fingers through it. “Nice, thank you.” He leaned over and pecked your forehead before standing to his feet. “Want me to do you?”

You snorted at the subtle implications of his words. “Go get dressed already. I can ‘do’ myself.”

“Oh, can you?”

You were tempted to play along with his little joke, but it was getting late and neither of you were dressed yet. Regrettably, you shooed him away so that you could continue to prepare on your own without him being a distraction

Following another thirty or so minutes, you dressed up and met Aizawa at the door. He had put on a crisp button up shirt and a pair of dark, tailored pants that fit him so well, you had to resist the urge to pinch his ass.

When you approached, he was standing at the mirror in the hall, tying his hair into a bun. You could tell he had given up on fussing with his tie just by the way it hung loose around his neck.

“Here, let me,” with deft fingers you undid the knot, sliding the tie off and then promptly tossed it onto the couch. You also unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, smiling to yourself at the lidded stare Aizawa was pinning you with.

“You want me to go out like this?”

“I thought I’d let you off the hook,” you laughed. “No tie tonight.”

Closing the gap between you two, Aizawa planted a kiss at the corner of your mouth, as a silent thank you.

❤︎

From what you understood, the ceremony wasn’t supposed to be a large one, still a good bit of Ketsubutsu staff and student body were present.

Already you could tell that Aizawa was a little put off by the amount of people, especially those who kept staring at you two. Though, it just couldn’t be helped. Not many knew that either of you were in a relationship. Dressed as he was, you wouldn't be surprised if most simply didn't recognize him as the pro-hero, Eraserhead.

Even you had to admit that your boyfriend cleaned up nicely, a stark contrast from his usual ‘rolled out of bed’ appearance.

“Hey! You made it!” Emi Fukukado, otherwise known as Ms. Joke, called to you over the crowd. You were just about to go over to greet her and the others when Aizawa cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna get you a drink.” he gave your hand a light squeeze and excused himself before you could respond.

“Hey, hey!! I’m so glad you’re here.” Your coworker had waltzed over and scooped you into a tight hug.

“S-Same,” you wheezed. “Mind letting go?”

“Oh whoops!” Emi laughed sheepishly. When she finally released you, you couldn't help but notice her looking around. “Weren’t you just with someone? I didn’t get a good look but I’m positive—”

“Oh yeah,” you looked around for Aizawa but couldn’t see him anywhere “I um...didn’t come alone. I came with my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?! Since when?!!”

“Ah! Well…”

Thankfully before you could delve into explaining anything, you were saved by the proverbial bell.

Over the intercom, the principal announced for all attendees to proceed towards the auditorium where the ceremony would be held. Although you followed Emi without question, you still silently searched for Aizawa in the crowd but to no avail.

You were escorted to a seat in the front row with all the others who were also being recognized. Still you couldn’t help wondering where the hell Shouta had gone. You could barely focus during the entire opening speech, your attention having been snatched by worry. If not for Emi subtly tapping your arm, you might’ve even missed your name being called.

You stood up and walked across the stage, willing your legs to move forward. The principal shook your hand and presented to you a plaque with your name engraved in gold lettering. Several others on stage, some heroes and staff, also commended you with handshakes and warm hugs. You murmured thank yous all the way to your seat, but still you wondered about your boyfriend.

“Hey, Emi.” You said as you handed her your award. “I’ll be right back, could you watch this for me? I’m going to the washroom.”

Emi seemed a little concerned by your tone but agreed. “Got it!”

Quietly you exited the auditorium and headed in the direction of the reception hall where you’d last seen Shouta, but it was empty save for a few students milling about the snack table. You were tempted to ask if they had seen Eraserhead, but decided against it, you could find him on your own.

After about ten minutes of searching you went to one of the balconies overlooking the sports field. To your immediate surprise, there stood Aizawa, though he seemed preoccupied. There was a cell phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. He noticed you not a second later, and concluded his call quickly.

“Shou, what are you doing out here?”

He frowned. “I got caught up in a work call, I’m sorry. Has it started?”

“It’s more than started, it's almost over.”

Your boyfriend looked stunned for just a moment before he let out a sigh, “I’m really sorry I missed it kitten,” he came to loop his arms around you.

“Like I said, it was no biggie,” you mumbled.

“You okay?… You’re shaking.” he whispered, lips pressed against your hair.

“I’m fine,” you responded. “Just cold.”

At that, Aizawa pulled you closer into his chest, his arms acting as a shield against the evening chill.

Something had been on your mind since the beginning of the night. It was an intrusive thought and although you knew better than to entertain it, it was also proving to be hard to ignore. Shouta had been acting strange since arriving here. You thought it was because of the crowd but he wouldn't have missed the ceremony for something as minute as that. You breathed in his scent, slowly gathering the courage to ask what had been rattling in your brain for a while now.

“Be honest with me, Shou, are you afraid of us going public?”

You felt him stiffen and pull back slowly to see your face fully. He didn’t ask you to repeat yourself, so you knew he had heard you loud and clear.

“What makes you say that?”

You looked away from him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “I don’t know… it’s just a thought.”

Aizawa didn’t speak for a long while. He still held you close, almost protectively, but he remained silent like he was trying to find the right words to say.

“Yeah...I guess you could say that.” He sighed, “but it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not afraid of what people will think when they see us, far from it. But the thought of you getting hurt because of your association to me...makes me...hesitant.”

You blinked up at him. The way his jaw was set as he spoke became proof enough that he wasn’t as unaffected by things as he appeared. Always so cool and collected, and yet he was possibly the most capable of emotion. You pressed your forehead against his chest as you considered your next words.

“I get that. But that doesn't give you an excuse to run off!” You pinched his arm lightly as if it emphasized your point.

“You’re right kitten, although it was an important call.” his lips spread into a wide smile. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Hm, I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Aizawa huffed and rolled his eyes at you, then bent to capture your lips in kiss. It was heavy and comforting in a way mere words simply failed to be. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in that feeling. His hand drifted lower down your back until he was nearly cupping your ass.

“Mmmm, Shou.” You pulled back, feeling the heat in your cheeks. Aizawa said nothing, instead he smirked like he had something planned. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray lash.

“Shall we take this home?”

❤︎

(Part 2 in the works, stay tuned!!)

#shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #sabi.writes

208 notes · View notes

wwall-archive · 3 years

Text

All At Once, This Is Enough - Ethan W..inters x Me

A/N: ~In light of the announcement I just made~! Surprise! I've been working on this. For several days. My apologies if I've seemed quiet, all my energy was going towards this! This is kind of long, but it's... actually kind of important to me, so I forgave myself on that front, haha. This follows the timeline of my RE AU, which I intend to continue writing out more in depth, in which the events of the 7th game occur and then I ignore the events of 8 even though I love it as a game because I just can't stop thinking about an average life with this man 😭 I do still intend to set this up for a bit of angst, because that just feels like how this needs to go, but it will be resolved shortly! Anyways, my over-explaining aside, I hope you enjoy the beginning of our story. More to come soon ❤️

Warnings: Vague references to alcohol. Allusions to a notable age gap. Mention of divorce. Me being intensely socially awkward.

Word Count: 1738

Tag List: (Thanks so much to everyone who wanted to be added, and as per usual, if anyone wants to be added or removed, no problem, just let me know <3) @sacredempressnatlyia @crowandking @solomates @ship-trek @nekociapek @blueberryships @ariesselfships @lysandthunder @queenvonhresvelg

~~~

As I stepped out of my car and made my way into this building, I took a moment to acknowledge to myself that I was not looking forward to the evening in front of me. Simply to brace myself, if nothing else. Sure, I didn't have anything against fancy events - I'd always actually been rather fond of getting dressed up - but the idea of being trapped in a room full of mostly strangers filled me with a level of unease only an introvert of my level could feel. I shuddered in horror at the thought of the polite small talk that awaited me.

Alas, some events were simply too large to miss, especially when they required the booking of a large venue, and so I found myself taking small, hesitant steps through the large, decorated archway that led to this event hall. I was almost certainly early, as I always was, and it was already too crowded for my liking, filled to the brim with people mingling, and a pianist on stage getting ready to play for a formal dance floor that would soon be filled as well. At least the open bar looked inviting, so I made my way in that direction, hoping it would provide me some small amount of protection from anybody who would be determined to say hello.

I reaffirmed to myself that all I needed to be here for was a quick appearance. Some brief greetings to those who extended my invitation to me, once I could find them, and then I could bolt faster than a startled rabbit. It brought me a modicum of strength, to know I wouldn't be here for too long.

As I made my way through the room, I had to admit that it was dazzlingly decorated, and I felt quite lovely all dressed up, like I adequately fit in with the impressive scenery. If there was going to be any upside to the night, I supposed it would have to be that.

It was a vaguely familiar voice calling out my name that caught my ear, almost certainly someone I had met through work. As I begrudgingly turned to meet them, I did find myself slightly recalling their face. I smiled as they approached and we shared greetings, and it was pleasant enough, even as they rushed into their next words like they knew I would exit the conversation as soon as I could in a panic and were desperate to say their piece, “Wallace, I really wanted you to meet a colleague of mine, he's a systems engineer my organization works with, I thought I could recommend him for… Oh, where did he- Ethan! Wallace, meet Ethan-”

In the following moment that I remained coherent, I was able to process two things. The first, being the features of the man before me, all short dark blond hair and light brown eyes, and slightly boyish features on a face that somehow still managed to convey his status as middle-aged, and a smile soft enough to take my breath away. Two, as I gazed upon the features striking me so, and stuck my hand out to meet his for a handshake, I became quite sure, more than I had ever been sure of most things in my life, that I was about to be an absolute goner for this man.

It took me a moment to come back to my own body, and so once I did I rushed to say, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“Oh, just Ethan, please.”

“Of course. Ethan. My name is Wallace.”

“Then the pleasure is all mine, Wallace.”

The familiar voice from earlier cut in again, and I could vaguely make out something being said about a previous project that had been worked on, but I couldn't quite bring myself to tear my gaze away from the man in front of me. After a moment, to my shock, it occured to me that he didn't seem to have any intention of looking away either, nor did he seem particularly bothered by that fact.

After that occured to me and made my head spin from the sheer realization that he was content to hold my gaze, I was struck by mortification as I realized that I still hadn't dropped his hand from our handshake, and I rushed to let go. To my relief, he seemed shocked by the revelation of the discrepancy in decorum as well. In the corner of my perception, I heard a small laugh, and something like the words “I'll let you two talk!” Suddenly, fear struck me again, but this time over the thought that I would have nothing interesting to say, now that the official introduction was over, and that Ethan would depart as well.

But that didn't happen, and he smiled at me again, and in a meek tone of voice he began, “I'm sorry, I was sure it looked like you were heading somewhere before we stopped you. If it was a bother I could go-”

“No! No, I had just gotten here. Just making my way over to the bar.” I cringed at myself internally upon realizing I had confessed to heading straight for the bar as soon as I entered the room, but once again it didn't seem to bother him. His deep chuckle made my knees weak.

“Great. Don't suppose you'd want to dance with me instead?” The pianist had started to play a light tune a moment ago, and a few people had come together on the floor. I quickly thought back to the single formal dancing class I had ever taken, knowing I very well could not dance.

“I'd love to.” His smile made my mind go blank for a moment again. By the time I had come back from autopilot, we were on the floor, and he was leading me in a light, easy dance.

“How does a systems engineer learn to ballroom dance?”

He gave a small shrug, “A class or two. I needed some for… an event once.”

I laughed lightly, “Well you clearly took them more recently than me, the one and only dancing class I ever took was a one day requirement in high school. I'd be done for without you right now, I'm sure.”

“Then I'll be happy to guide you with what knowledge I have.”

Our conversation lagged into silence for a moment, and I internally kicked myself for letting it. What was I supposed to say in a situation like this?

I defaulted to the one conversation trick I had, “So, Ethan, tell me about yourself.”

He shrugged again, but he was still smiling, “Well, you know my occupation. Um, I'm 37.” I noticed him watching for my reaction on that one, but when I simply nodded, he continued hesitantly, “I'm from California.” He paused again, this time for longer, but I could tell he was simply working his way up to his next point. “Divorced, relatively recently. I'm a father, I have a little girl, Rose.” He stopped again, watching for my reaction once more. I hoped I was managing to keep my face as neutral as I felt it was.

“Wow. You're honest.”

He cringed, “Too much?”

“Much appreciated, actually.” I swallowed heavily, hoping I wasn't about to overstep or show my hand too early, and lowered my voice just a little, “Lets me know I'm not reading this completely wrong.”

He looked down at our feet, but I could have sworn I saw him break into a grin before he did.

He cleared his throat, looking up at me again, “So? What about you?”

And so I gave him the run-down on me. Occupation, location, age - I saw his eyebrows raise just the slightest at that one, but got a similar non-reaction to the one I gave otherwise - and matched most of what he told me, minus the personal bombshell. I supposed there were some things we each had yet to uncover about each other, and I was saving mine for later.

Upon the end of my self-pitch, he nodded, “Interesting.”

“Oh, is that all I get?” I did my best to make my tone playful, so he would know I was joking, but I had a feeling he would have understood me anyway even if I hadn't put in the extra effort. Our entire conversation, I had held the feeling that he was rather good at reading me already.

“You want more of a reaction, give me more to react to.” His tone was equally playful. I'm quite sure I would have caught the joke even if it hadn't been as well.

“Sir, this is still our first meeting, if you'll recall. We don't need to go dropping all our bombshells at once, do we? And besides, I wouldn't consider a rented event hall the best place for sharing all our deepest secrets, would you?”

He once again let out that chuckle that made me swear you could see the hearts forming in my eyes, and he darted his gaze around the room before meeting mine again, drawing his tongue across his lips nervously, and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, “Then… do you want to get out of here? Go find something else to do that's better suited for getting to know each other better? Or sharing all our deepest secrets, as you put it.”

It briefly occurred to me that maybe this was a bad idea. I deeply understood the uncertainty he displayed. I knew damn well I probably wasn't in the best place to pursue this, and I had the deep, unshakable feeling that if I left this place with this man, I would be in far too deep to let go easily. I was drawn to him, even if it wasn't the most conventional, or even if it didn't seem like emotionally the most sure-fire, secure decision. Something about him signaled to me that he was probably in a very similar boat. I had a feeling we each had some emotional baggage to unpack. And besides, I still hadn't even made a round to say hello to the hosts yet, either. That was all I had even come here to do. I was supposed to have gotten here, said hello, been awkward, and left. It was supposed to have been a bad, short, night.

“Yeah, absolutely. Let's get out of here.”

#otp: all at once this is enough #my writing #okay to rb!#psa from wallace

17 notes · View notes

aurora077 · 3 years

Text

Securing Sect Leader Jin

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13926514/1/Securing-Sect-Leader-Jin

Chapter 1 - Before securing Sect Leader Jin, you must first secure the donkey.

Disclaimer: This will be a mix of canons so like in CQL, Wei Wuxian goes travelling after the temple’s events. However, he has been resurrected in Mo Xuanyu’s body rather than his own, like in the novel. Also I do not own MDZS/CQL that belongs to MXTX.

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

“Wei Wuxian?! What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng scowled.

“Shhhhhh! They’ll hear us!” he hissed, barely refraining from clapping a hand over Jiang Cheng’s mouth. That would have certainly gotten them caught because Jiang Cheng would probably have murdered him on the spot.

Jiang Cheng reluctantly shut up but glared fiercely at him. The effect was rather lessened by the fact that they were both hiding like thieves behind a large bush and spying on their nephew.

“Wen Ning couldn’t come today so I’m following the juniors in his place,” he whispered.

It had been a few months after the incident at Guanyin Temple, and while travelling was something he’d always wanted to do, he could admit to himself it was a bit lonely when his only company was a recalcitrant donkey. By chance he had stumbled across Wen Ning and A-Yuan who had just set out on their journey to give the Wen Remnants a proper send off and Wen Ning had expressed his dismay that he would not be able to look out for Jin Ling during night hunts while he was gone (he still felt guilty for being partially responsible for the death of the boy’s father and had dedicated himself to keeping him safe, especially since Jin Ling seemed to have forgiven him). Wei Wuxian had enthusiastically volunteered to be his replacement while the newly discovered uncle-nephew pair took the time to bond with each other. “Everything will be fine Wen Ning, you’ll see! I’ll be Jin Ling’s guard until you get back!”

It had reassured Wen Ning only partially, because while he could agree that Jin Ling would be safe, he worried that Wei Wuxian would not be. Far be it for him to comment on Wei Wuxian’s choices but he did worry for his friend who had no self-preservation skills whatsoever. But regardless, Wen Ning went along with A-Yuan and trusted that Wei Wuxian would keep both Jin Rulan and himself safe.

He did however forget to warn Wei Wuxian that he might bump into Sect Leader Jiang, who took his nephew’s safety very seriously and followed him along on night hunts (in secret because Jin Ling was now Sect Leader Jin and he felt it was beneath his dignity to have his uncle trailing after him the entire time.)

To Jiang Cheng it just seemed like his little nephew was whining about being ‘a big boy now jiujiu’ and ‘you don’t have to hold my hand anymore jiujiu’ (well Jin Ling hadn’t used those exact words but Jiang Cheng had on jiujiu-coloured glasses). Jiang Cheng, of course, disagreed with Jin Ling’s assertion that he didn’t need to follow him. Being Sect Leader Jin actually brought Jin Ling even more danger than before because his position was not solid and many people wanted to kill him to take over the sect themselves or to destabilise the sect even more than it already was. So like it or not, when Jin Ling was on a night hunt, Jiang Cheng would be following closely behind. No assassin was going to get Jin Ling on his watch!

Luckily for our two stalkers the night hunt was relatively simple and Jin Ling, together with the loud Lan and the lone Ouyang with any sense in his head, had finished it up swiftly and they were just looking for an inn to stay the night before heading back to their sects in the morning. The boys got their rooms and tiredly went to take baths before dinner, unaware that they had been followed. This left Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng standing awkwardly outside the inn (because they couldn’t stick too close, they’d be noticed!), neither knowing what to say to the other. It was much easier back in the forest where they couldn’t speak because neither wished to be caught skulking around.

“Ah Jiang Cheng could you um….” Wei Wuxian rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, “Uh, nevermind…”

“What is it?” “It’s nothing, don't worry,” he said nervously. He was always nervous around Jiang Cheng now. Their days of easy camaraderie were a thing of the past.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, “Just spit it out!”

That was familiar enough that the words spilled out before he realised it. “Uh so I left Lil Apple tied at the edge of the forest and I need to go feed him or he’ll get cranky and will wake up the entire town with his braying tonight. I just wondered if you would maybe, um..reserve-a-room-for-me-as-well when you go in…” he said, rushing the words, then stammering, “B..but it’s okay if you don’t want to! I’ll just try to get one afterwards, if they have any left by then haha.”

“Still travelling with that ridiculous donkey then are you? I thought you’d be holed up in the Cloud Recesses with Lan Wangji. Didn’t you leave together with him?” Jiang Cheng scoffed.

“Hehe, well Lan Zhan is busy, you know. Zewu-Jun is in seclusion so he has to help Lan Qiren run the sect.” “That doesn’t explain why you’re not there with him. I mean I never expected you to fall for Lan Wangji of all people especially when you’d have to live in Cloud Recesses with their 4000 rules and Grandmaster Lan who hates your guts, but hey there’s no accounting for taste.”

“Hey! Lan Zhan is great! Anyone would be lucky to have him even with their 4000 rules. And I told you, we’re just friends, it’s not like that,” he replied, pouting slightly. The truth was Lan Zhan hadn’t asked him to stay and he… well he didn’t want to impose. He’d already caused Lan Zhan so much trouble, with his sect and otherwise. It’s not as if he could have stayed forever anyway, he wasn’t a Lan and Jiang Cheng wasn’t wrong, Lan Qiren did hate him.

“Right, so you bowed in the ancestral hall for no reason other than to pay respects together with your “very good friend”, nothing more to it?”

“Exactly!” he replied brightly.

Jiang Cheng huffed in disbelief but didn’t pursue the matter. He couldn’t tell if the sarcasm was lost or if Wei Wuxian was being purposefully obtuse. But whatever, far be it for him to help out that condescending, Wei Wuxian-stealing, Lan Wangji anyway.

“What have you been doing if you haven’t been in the Cloud Recesses then?”

“Oh you know, just travelling here and there. Seeing the world. All that good stuff. Experiencing the life of a rogue cultivator.” He didn’t really have a place to go back to after all, travelling was all he could do, but it felt pathetic saying it out loud.

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow, “Then how did you land up back here, checking on A-Ling? Isn’t that what The Ghost General does now that he has more free time than he knows what to do with? What could he have possibly been busy with that he had to ask you to do it? Not like he needs to eat or sleep.”

“How did you know Wen Ning does that,” Wei Wuxian asked, surprised. Jiang Cheng scoffed again, “Who do you think I usually end up behind bushes with Wei Wuxian? I’m surprised he didn’t warn you that I would be there.”

Wei Wuxian grinned slyly, “Behind bushes with Wen Ning huh, and here I thought you didn’t like him.”

It took him a second but the comment registered and his face turned red. “Wei Wuxian you..!”

Jiang Cheng was ready to throw hands. Wei Wuxian laughed and dodged and for a second the sense of familiarity was so strong it felt like no time had passed at all. But the moment soon evaporated and they were both left feeling wrong-footed. Wei Wuxian shifted nervously once more, fidgeting with his sleeves.

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat, “Well anyway your picky donkey isn’t going to feed itself is it? Get going Wei Wuxian! I really don’t need to wake up to the sound of an angry donkey in the middle of the night.”

“Right, well uh I’ll just go.. do that...” he dashed away quickly to escape the awkwardness.

Jiang Cheng sighed forlornly. It never used to be so difficult to be around each other. But he didn’t know how to interact with Wei Wuxian anymore. He’d fall back into his natural mode of grumpiness only to realise that instead of laughing about it Wei Wuxian would get nervous. Like just now. When he literally ran away to go spend time with a donkey instead of Jiang Cheng. Once upon a time he used to be the stubborn ass in Wei Wuxian’s life. Oh to get replaced by an animal! Called Lil Apple! Who’d bite his master if he displeased it! At least Jiang Cheng didn’t bite. He pouted internally. Shaking himself out of his thoughts as a large group of people passed him by to get into the inn, he made his way to the counter, even more annoyed now that he’d have to wait in a line to book a room. He’d normally warrant attention because of his status but it was crucial that he keep a low profile at the moment thus he didn’t draw the innkeeper’s attention to himself. As such, he ended up not-so-patiently waiting in line like a normal person.

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian felt like he could breathe freely again. “Ah Lil Apple, at least I know what to expect with you,” he said, trying to pat the donkey and almost losing a finger for his efforts. “Fine, fine, you only want me for the food don’t you?” he groused, pulling out a few apples and leaving them on the ground. “You’re a smart donkey aren’t you? I’ll be back in the morning so be sure not to eat them all at once or you’ll be stuck with this forest grass.” Lil Apple brayed contemptuously. “Oh don’t use that tone with me! Do you want to go back to the Cloud Recesses and share with the bunnies instead?” Lil Apple side-eyed him but took a deliberately slow bite out of an apple to show he understood the threat and would heed his master’s words, but that he did not appreciate it. When he was in the Cloud Recesses those darned furry rodents had covered almost every inch of grass and he could not get a bite in between. He had unhappily brayed, hoping to get some of those carrots the young humans would bring for the rabbits to sate his hunger, only to be unceremoniously tossed out when his master came back because the older white clad humans had been annoyed by his hungry cries. One of them in particular, the one with a tail on his face, also seemed to hate his master. He made sure to spit on his robes before he left. Only he could dislike his master. He really did not want to go back there, so he just ate his apple mutinously.

Satisfied that Lil Apple would be sated and would not cause a disturbance, Wei Wuxian made his way back to the inn.

“You there, with the flute!”

“Who me?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, you. Your companion has booked you room 13,” said the woman, who he realised was the innkeeper, “He’s ordered dinner to be brought to the room when you arrive, so you should probably head upstairs. Dinner will be served in thirty minutes.”

So Jiang Cheng did reserve a room for him after all. He let out a sigh of relief. He’d wondered on his way back if he’d come back to find that he’d been left to find another inn as this one would surely have been full by the time he got back (he had sat for a while just chilling with Lil Apple). He’d even been ordered dinner. Jiang Cheng was being particularly generous. He wondered how he’d pay him back though. The silver Lan Zhan gave him was running kind of low.

He opened the door to room 13 (which he suspected was close to the juniors’ rooms given that it seemed to be one of the inns’ better ones) and came face to face with Jiang Cheng. He startled a bit but before he could say anything Jiang Cheng scowled, “There you are. I was wondering if you’d decided to disappear with the damn donkey. What took you so long? Don’t you know it’s a chilly night? What if you catch a cold with that weak body of yours?”

“You were looking for me? I was just reassuring Lil Apple, nothing major. Thanks by the way, for ordering a meal. And for the room. I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. You can go back to your room, I’ll be fine, I’ve lived through worse than a cold night,” he said, touched that Jiang Cheng had come to check on him.

“I am in my room,” Jiang Cheng said nonchalantly, “And don’t be ridiculous, did anyone ask you to pay? Dinner will be here soon, you should probably go wash the eau de donkey off of you before it arrives.” “

“Oh. Sorry, I must have gotten the wrong room then, which one is mine?”

“You are also staying here.” “Huh?” came his bewildered reply. Did Jiang Cheng just not want to bother paying for a room for him? He’d still be grateful for dinner and at least the floor of the inn was clean as opposed to outside in the dirt but he couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened. He had gotten his hopes up for a bed.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, “Whatever you’re thinking, just stop. There were no other rooms left. So you can either suck it up and share with me for a night or go sleep on the donkey.”

When Wei Wuxian looked like he might actually be considering going back outside, Jiang Cheng’s scowl returned with a vengeance. “Oh I see how it is. You can go gallivanting around half the jianghu, sharing rooms with Lan ‘just a friend’ Wangji but you can’t stay one night with me, who you lived and shared a room with for years before...shit happened.”

“Th..that’s not it! And how do you know that anyway?” he sputtered, slightly impressed with Jiang Cheng’s knowledge of things that he wasn’t present for given that he didn’t think Jin Ling talked with his uncle about that time in their lives.

“Juniors talk to each other on night hunts, Wei Wuxian. I have overheard some conversations.”

Ah. Eavesdropping. He was slightly less impressed.

“A..anyway it’s not like that!”

“Then what is it like? You got him drunk and he tied you up with his forehead ribbon and then you went to the same bedroom. You can’t seriously expect me to believe it isn’t a little ‘like that’.”

“What’s the big deal with everyone and that damned forehead ribbon? It’s not like I stripped him,” he huffed.

Jiang Cheng was astonished. “You mean to tell me all of these years later and you still don’t know?” Shit, he was starting to feel a sliver of pity for Lan Wangji.

“Look I know it was my bad the last time at the archery competition, but this time it really wasn’t me! He did it on his own. And he was drunk, he had no idea what he was doing. So whatever importance it has to the Lan at least this time I wasn’t the one who started it.”

Yup, that was definitely pity he was feeling. The poor sod. He absconded with him in front of all the sect leaders who would have been happy to think Lan Wangji was being deceived, hid him from said sect leaders, bowed in the ancestral shrine with Wei Wuxian, shared a bed with him, tied him with his ribbon, and still got called just a friend. Any lesser man would break.

But also, wait… “If it’s not ‘like that’ then why did you act all shameless and say he was your type?” Jiang Cheng grumbled, annoyed upon remembering that first day of meeting him as Mo Xuanyu. “And then go on to share a bed with him in Cloud Recesses and in all those inns?” he continued.

“You’re not still hung up on that, are you Jiang Cheng?” he pouted, “You know, I was just trying to escape; from both of you at the time. I didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t you remember how easy it was to rile him up when we were in Cloud Recesses? Anything I said or did was against the rules. He’d get mad so easily. I tried my best to scandalise him this time so that he would kick me out and I could go off on my own but I had no idea he’d grown so tolerant in the years I’ve been gone. I only got away from you because of A-Ling. As for him, I thought it would be easier to escape so I did things that would make him want to kick me to the curb. But nothing I did helped me to escape. Not even getting drunk, in fact, he even joined me in drinking once! I never thought I’d see the day. Eventually we got caught up in the mystery and he stood by my side when things went pear-shaped. You know I always considered him a friend even though I thought he hated me. Turns out he didn’t really hate me after all! Isn’t that great? You always said he did!” he accused.

“He always seemed like he did! Even you agreed. He was always so stiff. It’s not like we could have read anything else from his perpetually stony expression. I had no idea how he really felt until...well...” Jiang Cheng trailed off awkwardly.

Clearly Wei Wuxian was also not keen on broaching the ribbon or the shrine topic so he sidestepped it easily and went back to Lan Wangji. “Yes, exactly. Lan Zhan is such a good friend. I’m really glad that he doesn’t hate me. I value his friendship very much so don’t badmouth him Jiang Cheng, okay? You can badmouth me all you like but Lan Zhan is a good person and he doesn’t deserve it.”

He certainly doesn’t deserve this level of obliviousness, thought Jiang Cheng. It was somehow both good and bad for Lan Wangji that Wei Wuxian didn’t realise it. If Wei Wuxian did not return those feelings and truly did see him as a good friend, he wouldn’t have to go about feeling all guilty and obligated about it because that would 100% happen and Lan Wangji himself wouldn’t want Wei Wuxian to bear that burden. On the other hand it was bad because Lan Wangji would just be there pining away with no definitive answer and getting his feelings inadvertently stepped on when Wei Wuxian did something that was like rubbing salt in his wounds. But hey, he still didn’t like the man so, not really his problem. Especially since he would have had no feud with him if Lan Wangji himself hadn’t started acting like Jiang Cheng was enemy number one. He would have thought Lan Wangji of all people would know better than to listen to rumors. Clearly Lans did gossip after all. Wei Wuxian on the other hand...well he’d been dead for thirteen years, he had to get his news from somewhere.

He had such complicated feelings when Wei Wuxian first came back to Lotus Pier, and even though the truth had not yet been revealed, he’d still wished they could somehow go back to the way they were. That was until Wei Wuxian broke their unspoken mode of communication (through arguing of course), by actually physically attacking him in his own ancestral hall. Though he was starting to realise that maybe their shrine talk had devolved so completely because of the presence of Lan Wangji. If Lan Wangji hadn’t been there without his permission then Jiang Cheng would have had nothing to say about him. But he had been an outsider in a private space and had the nerve to bow in front of Jiang Cheng’s parents with Wei Wuxian like he was family. It had rubbed Jiang Cheng the wrong way and his words were even more scathing than usual. After now being explicitly told that he shouldn’t badmouth the man in front of Wei Wuxian, he really believed that things wouldn’t have gone so poorly if Lan Wangji just wasn’t there. Wei Wuxian was always the type to get mad on everyone’s behalf but his own, and in this case, he thought highly of Lan Wangji which didn’t help. All Jiang Cheng was looking for was an explanation, instead he had gotten an unwanted show.

“Anyway,” Jiang Cheng deflected, scrunching up his nose, “Whatever my thoughts on Lan Wangji, at least the man is always clean. You stink. Go wash up idiot.”

“Is it really that bad?” he sniffed himself. Okay it wasn’t that bad, A-Cheng, rude! But he was smelling a bit like a barnyard animal so he went behind the screen to take a quick wash before their dinner arrived. There was a basin with water and a clean washcloth to the side. Jiang Cheng had already freshened up since there was a scrunched up cloth in the corner. He felt like he was having an out of body experience. How many times in their youth had they been in this situation? Him coming in all messy from creating mischief somewhere and Jiang Cheng chiding him while making sure he took a bath and didn’t get sick. Jiang Cheng never said what he meant. Always scolding him but worrying about him at the same time. Back then they were carefree kids, a vast difference from their current situation but maybe, just maybe, that at least was still the same.

Back then also had two beds, he thought mournfully, as they finished up an awkward dinner and he was faced with the reality of having to sleep on the floor.

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

Author's Note: So I had this idea and have been trying to finish it for the longest time, but I decided to post chapter one at least and see how it goes because it is taking me longer to finish than I hoped.

15 notes · View notes