"You'll be fine, you'll be fine," You quietly sang, a made up chant you were currently improvising as a way to try and assure yourself you were safe. "Just get the earring and skeddadle, you'll be fine! Haha," You ended on a nervous laugh. "Hot shit how did it roll back this far. . ."
As you were only a foot away, you dropped down and reached out a hand to grab it, grinning widely. "Got you now you son of a—" but stopped in your tracks as a pair of feet slowly make themselves known as they stepped into your phone's light, the grin on your face disappearing almost immediately. By now your heart had dropped down to your ankles, many scenarios going through your head in a flurry as the fear of being raped and killed registered in your head.
"Say what do we have here?" A gruff voice with a heavy jersey accent spoke, making you flinch as your shaking hand hovered a few inches above your earring. "A beau'iful li'le lady, all by her lonesome."
"I'm never gonna doubt you ever again, Raven," You sigh sadly to yourself, before realizing the situation at hand and almost passing out from the fact that there might not be a next time if you did even one thing wrong tonight. "Say, stand up."
Your eyes slowly dart up and down from the heavy, worn out leather shoes and the floor, breathing heavily as it never moved from the position it had taken since making his presence known. "Oi, the big man said stand up." You froze, body paralyzed in numbing fear.
There were more?!
"Look, mister, I don't want any troubl—" You gasped as you fell to the ground, the pain on your side only now registering as one man kicked you quite harshly. Whipee kye ey I get to spend my last moments alive single, you thought to yourself sarcastically, now just wanting the sweet release of death before any one of them would even dare lay a hand on you.
The Jersey man slowly made his way over, standing over you as both his legs cradled your now aching sides. In the distance they were fawning over the many stuff they got out of your bag, shaking the poor expensive thing upside down as many of your gum, coins and even sanitary delicates fell out and sprawled all over the concrete floor.
Your wallet came out as well, along with your many jewelries and pieces of paper you knew were important enough for you to keep—or you were just too lazy to throw them out, but either way those were your papers.
"Keep the bag, I don't care, just please let me go or kill me quickly." Some part of you didn't really mean those last words, but it was definitely enough for the man to pick up and practically slam you against the brick wall.
Your gasp soon turned into coughing, the blood that accompanied it spraying over the dumpster next to you and even onto the patchy beard of your attacker. Most of his face was covered entirely in darkness, your night vision not exactly kicking in yet.
But you didn't need night vision to feel the cold, cold blade of a small knife pressed up against your throat. You slowly swallowed the lump that managed to form, causing it to hit the blade and even cause it to bleed the slightest bit.
Good Lord what a cliché way to die, you thought, wanting to laugh at such an inappropriate situation. Never thought it'd be what happens to me, oh well. Hasta la bye bye, cruel world. The least you could do is give Ochaco a boyfriend, have the two lesbians start dating, take care of my cat, maybe have my best friends live longer than the age I always thought they'd die of in reckless driving, have Millie take over the boutiq—
Your thoughts got rudely cut off as you felt heavy hands slowly reach for your shirt, and that was enough for you to kick the man holding you straight between the legs. He let out a cry of pain, his grip on you loosening as you removed your heels and ran the other way.
"Get 'er, you fucks!" He barked, landing on his knees as his many lackeys stormed towards you. "Where the shit did you guys come from?!" You exclaimed a little too loudly but earned no response, the adrenaline that was now in full swing making you lose your balance multiple times.
"I'm not gonna die, I'm not gonna die, I'm not gonna—" You hissed in pain as your leg gets scratched by some sharp piece of metal, ripping your favorite pants and soaking it in your now slowly dripping blood, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm definitely gonna fucking die."
You were limping now, heels still in hand as more and more light poured from the slowly nearing exit from this hellhole of an alleyway. "Freedom!"
But you weren't getting out that easily.
You screeched as a hand with very long and dirty nails dared to touch you, gripping onto your wrist as his nails dug into your skin. "Let go of me!" You gasped, throwing your heel at his face before kicking him in the stomach.
It pushed him back, definitely, but the guy seemed to be on something because not only did he not react, he managed to grab you and pull you back deeper into the darkness despite you throwing a fit.
He pushed you onto the floor, about seven of them now forming a circle around your beaten form as you groan in pain. The big man who had held you earlier stood right above you, the stench coming off him only now making itself known as you physically gag.
"We're gonna—"
"Have fun with me? Yeah, I figured out that much. Look, if you're gonna do something to me, I don't see the point of not just killing me now. Do you have a plan for that?" You raise a brow, managing to cross your arm as you still lay down. "Or are you gonna have a twenty minute speech on how this world is unfair, how what you're doing is only natural, and then by the time you're gonna stab or sacrifice me to your fucked up god, the police are gonna be here.
"Am I right? Am I actually—" You laugh sarcastically, shaking your head. "Jesus fuck give me a knife right now I'll kill myself."
"This bitch sure does talk a lot." One low life scum mumbled to another, one beside him giving him a quick nudge on the stomach with his elbow. You were still talking, complaining about how criminals these days don't even know how to do their job correctly.
"And then next thing you know, the biggest crimes this world will ever come to see is a forty year old man stealing cotton candy from a kid in a wheel chair and telling him to get up and get it and ohh boy that is a gun." You were now done with your rambling as a man pulls out what looked to be. . . a gun. You didn't know much about guns, but you do know they could kill you.
"Give it," The Jersey man growled, catching the weapon easily before pointing it between your eyebrows. "Would this shut you up?" You laughed awkwardly, hands slowly raising as if to say you surrendered. "Uhm, probably. But if that doesn't work, hey! You could try shooting my mouth and put a hole in my tongue because I mean it's bound to work eventually and—"
You raise a brow as you noticed everyone looking away from you now, no longer paying attention as you turned to see where they were looking.
There stood a tall figure, having just entered through the way you did minutes before. He had a calm posture, hands resting in his jean pockets as he stayed unbothered. "Who the hell are you?" The man holding the gun asked harshly, taking this opportunity as to move your head enough for it to not be under the gun's direct course in any case he pulled the trigger.
"I'd rather skip the pleasantries. Let that woman go and make this easier for me, I kind of had a long day." His voice was charming and hot as fuck, enough to make you almost forget you were in a very dangerous and life threatening situation.
. . .
Oh my God Y/N pull yourself together!
"Piss off, pretty boy. We got her first fair and square." Another, scrawnier man growled, grabbing a rusty knife from seemingly out of nowhere as you scoff. What were you to them? A prize? Fucking clowns, people like them made you beyond furious.
You directed your attention back to your savior, (or equally as disgusting criminal who planned on taking you for himself, but you weren't too sure yet) who still stood unbothered as he let out a sigh. "Such a beautiful one too, such a shame. Hey dollface, do me a favor and close your eyes."
Normally you never listened to strangers, but you felt like you might as well before anything worse happens. "O, okay." It came with a small stutter, but you had no time to think about it. "Good girl," You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and before long the sounds of agonizing pain and shrieks made you flinch, not expecting any of that.
Your eyes were shut tight, but you could still see the slightest bit of a blue glow through your eyelids. Your brows were furrowed, confusion probably evident all over as many thuds and cries for help resounded all around you.
. . .
Was it over already?
You wanted to see what was happening, but decided against it until the man with a hot voice said anything else.
And as if reading your mind, he did. "You can open them now, princess." You slowly did so, only now noticing the silence that had settled, the only sounds being the distant traveling of cars and the occassional quiet sounds of agony from the thugs that had attacked you.
You slowly lift yourself off the ground with your elbow, hissing in pain as every damage you've ever taken ever since they kicked you made themselves known. You stand up slowly, wobbling as you dusted yourself off, eyes slowly gazing over your previous attackers.
They had burn marks all over.
"What the. . ." You get cut off as the man holds out his hand, your phone facing the palm of his gloved hand as you hesitantly take it. "Did they do anything to you, sweet cheeks?"
"That's three different nicknames now," You chuckle quietly, the man doing the same. "Four actually," He corrected, and although you couldn't see his face as a result of the surrounding darkness, you're quite sure he just winked at you. "Hm, no, I'm pretty sure it was three," He eventually chuckles, shaking your head to quickly move on from it.
"But to answer your question no, not really. They just kicked me a bunch of times and tried to undress me."
"Glad to see they failed." He responds, giving you a quick glance from top to bottom before going off to help you gather your things into your bag, stepping over the many thugs who had smoke still coming off them. "How'd you deal with them so quickly anyways?" You already had an idea, but you'd rather have him say it.
"Well, what do you think?" He asks, leaning down to grab your wallet and the cards that fell out. "From the burn marks I could say flamethrower," You joked, the mysterious—but hella attractive (although you haven't actually seen his face yet)—man chuckling as he hands you the wallet. "Yeah, I'm walking around the streets of New York with a flamethrower. Good job, great thinking babe."
"And there's the fourth," You smile, placing everything back inside and taking a deep breath. "Are you always this smooth?" He shrugs, placing both his hands in his coat you only now realized he was wearing. "To other girls? Nah," He drawled, playfully rolling his eyes before laughing. You do the same, another smile resting on your face as the both of you ran out of things to say.
In the resulting silence you eventually managed to speak, clearing your throat as you awkwardly looked away. "Anyways I should get going now, because the only flaw of these guys failing to kill me is that my roommate has freedom to do it herself." You shook your head, being able to just imagine how furious Jirou would be if she ever finds out you got attacked in a random alley.
"Thank you, so much by the way. I'm sorry if I haven't said that yet, but yeah." You pause, before quickly looking at the man and bowing, dipping your head low as his brows raise in amusement. "Arigato!—" You pause, realizing you didn't know his name yet. "Uhh, arigato, uhhh," The man bursts out laughing, his smooth voice echoing off of the dirty brick walls.
You straighten your posture, face probably very red as your savior finishes laughing. "You're Japanese?" He asked, very, clearly amused as you clear your throat and nod. "Yup. Born and raised. I just moved here a few years ago with some friends of mine."
"You're that Yaoyorozu girl's friend, right? Her designer?" Both your brows raise, "You know me?"
"It's kind of hard not to, L/N. Your friend's your model and you're your friend's designer. It's a small world, you know." You laugh, shaking your head as put your bag over your shoulder. "Okay so you know my name, that's great, but I'd want to know yours too." You look up at him, his face still covered by a shadow as he stands against the moon's light. "And your face too."
He stays silent, and it made you wonder if you said anything wrong. He sighs, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Maybe next time, sweetheart. Knowing too much about me's dangerous, hell," He vaguely gestures to your direction, "even having this whole conversation is already enough to put you in danger." He then turns on his heel, hand waving carelessly as if to say goodbye.
"Plus, you should be heading off, wouldn't want this mystery roommate of yours to bite your head off." You sigh, because as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. It's late at night, you just barely survived a close mugging and possibly rape, and it all made you very tired and very hungry. "Sayonara, Mona Lisa."
"Yeah yeah goodby—" You pause, slowly blinking your eyes as the realization dawned on you quite hard. Did. . . no, no no. You were just imagining it, right? He couldn't have known your embarrassing highschool nickname. . . He just couldn't! Knowing your name was one thing, because even you could admit that you were a little famous.
But knowing your nickname? It just wasn't possible! "How did you?!—" You look up in a hurry, only to find out your savior had now vanished, gone into the night. "What the—hey!" You turned your head left to right and back, trying to see if he was still around.
. . .
Although the fact that you were in a dark alley surrounded by garbage and burnt humans was enough to have you forget about looking for him and move out of said alley to catch a cab and go the hell home.
• • •
"Kyoka! Oh boy am I glad to see you!" You exclaimed as you practically jumped out of the small yellow car, engulfing your friend—who was just walking back fron parking her truck as she twirls the keys around her finger humming a catchy tune—in a tight hug.
She hugs you back, but her look of confusion slowly morphs into that of horror as she sees the state you were currently in. Realizing this, your eyes widen in alarm, frantically shaking your head as though that were ever possible to calm someone down. "Please don't panic!"
"Oh, pfft, who, me? Panic? No, nah, of course not. Not in a million years, I won't, I," She begins laughing, grabbing you by the shoulders as to pull you back and look at you straight in the eyes, "In fact, panic doesn't even begin to describe it, L/N Y/N!!" Her voice soon reaches into a scream, the usually calm and cool-headed Jirou Kyoka now a worried mess.
She starts rambling, shaking your shoulders while at the same time making sure you're okay. "Why didn't you go with Momo?! Or have someone drive you?! Ride a cab before you got attacked, ask for help, go home earlier, DID YOU DO ANYTHING?!"
She goes on, her face going more and more red as it goes on. In fact, it made you laugh. You've always noticed how her face turns red in the rare times she got angry, hitting a boiling point if she was way past the edge. She would have to be, extra angry to go that red. It only happened once before, and only once. Never again, right? It'd have to be super bad for her to get that red again I mean—
You pause, slowly focusing on the woman before you. Her hair, still the dark shade of purple. Her eyes, still the same dark gray. Her leather jacket, still black as usual. But her face. . .
You slowly gulp, realizing how much trouble you were in, and the fact that you weren't listening made it all the nightmare-ish.
By the time she was finished, a crowd might as well have formed around you. She was panting, teeth bared like a wild animal as she hissed and practically had smoke coming out of her ears. Her face was a bright red, almost glowing as her brows were so furrowed you could've sworn they've fused with her eyes in the time she had been angry with you.
"Uhm," You dared clear your throat, awkwardly looking away as that got her even more pissed—as if that were even possible!
"Well?! Your explanation?!" Kyoka looked like she was expecting an answer, and that must've been what she's asked you in the time you were zoned out. "Oh. Well uhm, you want the long or the short of it?"
Jesus if her eyes were to widen anymore you could've sworn they would pop right off.
"I got cornered in a random alleyway, almost got raped, scratched my leg, got threatened at gun point, almost got shot by said gun by talking too much, nearly lost basically everything if it wasn't for this smooth saint who saved my life and broke two of my nails." You rambled, finishing only as Jirou stared at you trying to absorb everything.
She eventually sighs, rubbing her temple and muttering as if to remind herself that murder was illegal and she couldn't afford everything to dispose of your body quick enough before the police got to her.
"Look, let's just talk about this tomorrow, okay? We both clearly had a long day and we both need to rest. Come on, I'll help you with your wound." You sigh in relief, knowing that it was impossible for your roommate to be mad at you for that long.
"Man, Momo's one lucky gal to have someone like you be at her side as her short but very loveable girlfriend."
. . .
And just like that, she added another wound for you to worry about.