Sincerely, Your Secret Boss. ( Various JJBA x Fem!Reader / teacher au )

15- Cornered Mice

Jolyne was well known in the southern parts of America, and even beyond. Her fame rested on solid personal achievements. 

As a young woman of eighteen, she had brought an honor to her name by beating Romeo the Cat. Romeo was the great boxer from Florida who for six years was unbeaten-- He was called the Cat for his back would never touch the earth; and it was this man that Jolyne knocked to the ground in a fight that many agreed was the most intense they might ever witness.

Graced with shame after his loss, and with everything to lose, Romeo called bullshit on her win, days later, even though thousands upon thousands had witnessed her victory from every angle. 

There was something on her gloves, he'd claim one day. She took steroids, he'd say another. The match was rigged. The match wasn't fair. 

Because of his high-standing, rumors he spread got around fast. Many that once agreed he was just being a sore loser, slowly turned to doubt their own beliefs after getting the idea of a faulty game hammered into their heads.

But there is no official boxing authority, so his petty excuses for a loss had no place to go other than the public.

Jolyne was harassed and bombarded by the press and paparazzi for too long of a time. There were so many of them, so many people she had to swim through just to do the most basic of things, everything became a chore.

In fact, there were such a large number of people swarming her at all hours of the day, she ended up killing not one, or two, but three fans late at night. There were no witnesses, no one to say 'It was manslaughter, they ran in front of her car on the street! She was not at fault!', and as a result, she was sentenced to fifty years in prison.

It got worse from there. Her case was revisited a year afterwards, and by some damned chance, those fifty years stretched to a lifetime sentence. 

Two years into her serving time, she gets a visitor, which was surprising, as her mother never had time to stop by the prison, and her father wasn't ever around. 

On the other side of the glass panel, sitting primly on the rickety chair adjacent to hers, was a complete stranger.

No guards were around, the one that had escorted her hid in the back of the room, struggling to hide his uncomfortable, fearful look.

The stranger sat crossed legged, their crimson suit wrinkling as they leaned their elbows onto the table in front of them. There was a peculiar symbol branded into the fedora they wore that day, a marking she now wears on her chest.

Hesitantly, she'd grab the phone on the wall with her cuffed hands, and press its receiver to her ear with a quiet, "Who are you?"

The stranger answered her question with one of their own. "Would you like to get out of here?"

That was many years ago, five or more, and during that time, Jolynes' fame had grown even more, for no one knew what happened to her; She dyed her hair, began to wear makeup, changed her style, and even got rid of her identifying tattoos on her arms and neck. 

But old habits die hard. She was still the same woman underneath, even as someone in the mob. When she walked, her heels hardly touched the ground and she seemed to walk on springs, as if she was going to pounce on somebody. And she did pounce on people quite often. She had a slight stammer whenever she was angry, and when she couldn't get her words out quickly enough, she'd use her fists.

She had no patience with unsuccessful people, so perhaps this is why she had become devoted to (Y/n) after only two months of working by her side, a woman with everything in her life in neat order.

(Y/n) trusted her story, trusted her and her sense of justice, and threw her life into her hands countless times to prove it. And through all of it: meetings, get-togethers, simple hangouts, and even jobs, Jolyne slowly realized her feelings for the woman that had pulled her out of hell.

She was a damned soul, someone who life was supposed to condemn, and she was given a second chance by someone who, just like her, was pitied by society. 

Her loyalty was unmatched, her life nothing in comparison to her saviors; she'd throw it away in a minute if it came to it. She would even give it up right at that moment, where a bullet was shot into the hotel wall of the room they occupied.

A brief call summoned Cioccolata into the room to grab Will and flee, Wamuu already grabbing the Brando brothers from their room and ushering them to the staircase, Melone right behind them with guns at the ready.

Jolyne rushed to grab her bosses jacket before helping her out of the room, using her body as a shield and taking up as much space as she could. With (Y/n) busy throwing on her suit jacket, unfortunately leaving her button up behind, Jolyne had the opportunity to return fire, firing meager warning shots back through the window in the general direction of the bullets source.

Tumbling into the hall, the two booked it to the stairwell, tripping over their own feet in their panic and yelling curses under their breaths.

Questions could be answered later, as there was sure to be many-- for now (Y/n) needed to figure something out, how to escape with hopefully everyone in tact. 

Because, and she could be wrong, she's sure she saw Prosciutto right outside the building.