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dancingazaleas · 4 years ago

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𖨆. 07 / all for us

summary: it feels as if god is blessing you personally when levi decides to spare you. but as the day goes on, you can’t help but notice things and ask questions, some of which you didn’t ask.

note: why was this chapter so hard to write

taglist: @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @the-sun-baby @uniquepickle @ascybous @messyhairday-me @stupid-stinky @saturnalya @megumitodoroki @kouyume @quacksonlover81 @gipumar

word count: +3.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of murder, mentions of drinking and driving, vomiting, mentions of blood, mentions of ocd, the reader is confused

LEVI ackerman knew he wasn't a good person. he knew from the moment he watched his uncle slaughter a man in front of him at the age of eight.

levi knew the moment he killed a man for theft. he knew the moment people would cower before him in highschool when he'd walk through the halls. he knew the moment he was sucking the smoke from a cigarette into his mouth.

he knew the moment he found himself fighting police officers. he knew the moment he was pushed against the hood of a car with his hands cuffed behind his back.

he knew the moment when erwin smith sat down in front of him with no emotion written on his face. the moment when erwin said he knew levi had done it, but he would be defending him either way. the moment when levi disobeyed the oath as he spat out his testimony. the moment the gavel was slammed down along with the verdict of 'not guilty'. the moment he stepped into the sunshine, erwin's hand in his, for the first time in months, knowing damn well he didn't deserve it.

but levi didn't care, he never did. the world he was born into was cruel. he had to fight for his place at the top, for his food, for his clothes, for everything. if no one cared about him, then why should he care for others.

but as he stares down at you trembling from fear on the floor, he can't help but think that he's incorrect.

"please don't hurt me again," you plead in a whisper, tilting your head to the floor.

levi only sighs, walking in and shutting the door behind him. he crouches in front of you, hand now awkwardly stroking your head.

"what happened," he asks, and it's something that comes as a shock to you. you were slightly prepared for a beating.

you snap your head up to look at him in shock.

"what have you got in your hands," he points at the scrapbook held to your chest.

"oh!" you fumble to show him, "i saw this earlier... i wanted to look but i didn't think you'd allowed me. i'm sorry, please don't hurt me."

"i would've let you, i barely look at this thing anymore. can you tell me what happened now," he scoffs at the front cover of the scrapbook.

"when i was going to put it back, a book on the shelf fell. then another book on the top shelf fell off, so i used the lower shelves as a ladder. as you can see, it didn't work," you look ashamed while you gesturing towards the shelf.

he just huffs, "go sit on the couch. we can look through that book after i clean."

you obey and watch levi heft the bookshelf back onto its legs. his fists clench as he looks down at the pile of books surrounding his feet.

hastily, levi's picking up the books by the color and placing them back onto the shelf. when he's finished, he takes a step back to look at it. he's unsatisfied, instead more frustrated as he starts to take all of the books off of the second bookshelf he has.

but in the middle of taking the books off the shelf, he twitches and taps the book against the wood five times. he's putting the books back onto the shelf, going back to the other bookshelf and taking all the books off of that.

you stare in absolute bewilderment. the shelves had looked perfect and identical to you, not to mention clean. as he's in the midst of taking the books off the shelf, he taps the book against the wood again.

and with that, he's placing it all back onto the shelf again. he sighs in relief after he's checked everything, finally trotting to you and plopping down next to you on the loveseat.

nervously, you scoot closer to him in order for you both to be able to see the scrapbook. he watches you flip it open past his baby picture, instead turning to the page that showed his mother feeding him.

"that's my mom, kuchel," he gently rubs his finger on the photograph, "think i was around a year at this point."

humming, you flip to the next page. when you realize it's the picture of levi at his mother's funeral, you try to flip the page but levi stops you.

a sigh, he explains, "my mother always had a very weak immune system, according to my uncle. because of where we lived, we both ended up getting deathly ill and we were too weak to get any help. i had to watch her die and wait for someone to come check up on us."

"i'm assuming it was your uncle," you tilt your head.

"it was. he took me in afterwards, gave me food and a shower. he even taught me how to hold a knife and how to fight for future reference. he had some work to do while i would fight for food."

you point to the one of levi standing in front of a building. to which he replies with, "first day of kindergarten. my mother was still alive back then so she decided to take the picture."

he turns the page for you, a relieved look in his eyes at he stares at the next photograph. it's a picture of levi, in high school, wearing a tux while standing next to another man with a bubbly girl holding onto levi as she holds up a peace sign.

the boy, who's also wearing a tux, has ice blue eyes and wavy dirty blonde hair that obviously hasn't been styled. he's got a gentle smile on his face while he looks at both the girl and levi, someone who levi was obviously fond of.

the girl has dark red hair in low and loose ponytails with freckles painting her tan cheeks. her eyes shine an emerald green along with her pearly white teeth.

"that's... isabel and farlan. met them in 8th grade, and we were at junior prom in this. farlan took me as his date while isabel went stag. i'm glad i still have this picture."

you resist the urge to fight back the joke of his type in men, instead asking, "are you not friends anymore?"

levi stays quiet for a moment, "they died in a horrible car crash a month later. some asshole decided to drink and drive while driving a semi. rear ended them at 45 miles per hour and killed them on impact. isabel was slouching in her seat and farlan was hunched over the wheel apparently. it was gruesome."

"i.... i'm so sorry," you reluctantly touch his arm.

he waves his free hand up and down in dismissal, despite hurt he actually was, "it's fine. happened years ago."

he turns the next page in order to distract himself from the sheer awkwardness that bathes the room. the next picture is of him, around the age of 24, standing in the sunlight while he smiles softly to the sky.

"erwin was my attorney, before he became a prosecutor, when i went to jail. he proved me not guilty and this was the picture he managed to take of me right after we left the courthouse. it was the first time i'd seen the sun without handcuffs on in months," he huffs with slight annoyance at the memory, something that surprises you just a bit.

"why'd you get arrested?"

"nothing you need to worry about," telling you would only make you fear him more. and that would be a pain to deal with.

the next page after is blank, along with the rest that follow.

"i stopped because i thought it was stupid," he crosses his arms, nudging the back of the scrapbook with his knee.

"i don't think it's stupid," you shake your head, fingertips gently tracing the grainy and textured paper.

"why's that?"

"well," you smile a bit while your mind wonders to the scrapbook pieck made you one year for your birthday, "it shows you the good memories that you might've missed as the time passed. reminds you that there's something in every little small day. it helps you keep the memory alive, even if some of it is upsetting, and i think it shows how much you've changed as a person."

levi stares at you, slightly flustered at your words as you relook at the photographs with gentle hands.

he stands up, "i just remembered the tea." ah, a sound excuse. if only levi had made tea.

you watch as he seems to rush out of the room, something you shrug off while gently putting the scrapbook on levi's desk and laying back down on the couch. you play another movie on the television that hangs on the wall, perking up when levi walks back into the room with a tray. it holds finger sandwiches and some lettuce mixed with some fruit in a small bowl along with tea. cracked sunflower seeds sit on a small plate on the side, and you feel yourself droll when you realize at there's cheese, lettuce, and ham on your sandwich.

levi places it on your lap, simply nodding at your kind, "thank you, levi."

he doesn't answer and just goes back to his desk, while you chew quietly.

it stays that way until erwin comes home.

————

it isn't until your eyes are fluttering open that you realize you've fallen asleep. you flinch at the sight of erwin's face close to your's, but slowly relax when he pulls away.

"i'm sorry, i didn't think my kiss would wake you," he places a loving hand on your head.

"'s fine, probably needed to get up anyway," you reply groggily while rubbing an eye, "how long have i been asleep for?"

"levi said since a little bit after lunch. it's only three o'clock at the moment," he sits on the edge of the couch, smiling at how you shuffle to accommodate him.

"sandwiches must've been tasty.... did you just get off work," you sigh and snuggle up under the thin blanket that's been laid on top of you while you were sleeping.

erwin lays his large hand on your cheek, which has you tense for just a moment and then relaxing.

"i got off a little while ago but i needed to run errands," a thumb strokes at the apple of your cheek, something that you disgustingly find comfort in.

"where did levi go?"

"went to make himself some tea," he chuckles with a shake of his head, "he claimed that he felt withdrawals."

you shake your head while laughing, "i doubt he said that. how was work?"

"i guess i can say it was adequate. i missed you and levi the whole day, but would often get distracted by my clients and their necessities. i'm dealing with a kidnapping case at the moment. a girl around your age named ymir was recently found by her girlfriend, historia. i can't say anything more," he pulls his hand away from you and uses it to pinch the bridge of his nose.

you feel yourself get the chills.

he's.... working on a kidnapping case.

he's prosecuting.... a kidnapper.

he's punishing someone who's doing the same thing as him. someone who took away a girl and kept her trapped for months. god knows what the man did to the girl.

and here you are, letting erwin hold your cheek and looking through an old photo album with levi.

you feel sick to your stomach, shooting up while slapping a hand to your mouth and grabbing at her's shirt.

"i'm gonna throw up," you barely are able to speak without the feeling of your food coming out of your stomach.

startled, erwin stares, "what?"

"can... need a can," you gag and lean over the edge of the couch.

erwin gets up when he realizes just what it is you're asking for, rushing across the room only for you to spill your guts out onto the floor.

it's been forever since you've thrown up, minus when levi kicked your stomach, and it has your whole body shaking. the intensity of it all has your nose dripping with blood and tears falling from your eyes, forcing you to seal your eyes closed.

"what happened here," levi sounds scared as he stands in the doorway, but before erwin can even finish his sentence levi is slamming the door behind him while he storms out.

erwin sighs with frustration, helping you scoot down the couch so he can place the trash can in front of you without the bottom being dirtied. with shaky hands, erwin's pulling all of your hair out of your face while you sob and gag into the trash.

it's ten more minutes before you're able to lay back down. blood and tears stain your face and you dazedly stare up at the ceiling.

"i'll be back with a towel and some water, levi will be back soon with an avalanche of cleaning products," erwin reassurances while he stumbles out of the door.

just as erwin leaves, levi enters. he's got a mask that covers his nose and mouth and rubber gloves that match with his cleaning apron. he's carrying a sponge, some spray, a towel, a broom/dustpan, along with some breath mints.

levi squats on all fours, scrubbing at the floor aggressively as he rides the room of the stench and the stain.

"s... sorry," you croak and levi grimaces.

he ignores you in order to keep scrubbing at the floor just as erwin rushes in with a warm towel and some water. he wipes off your blood, tears, and the mouth to rid you of your vomit. you look at him dazedly as he helps you drink the water he's given you.

levi passes a few breath mints to you when you're done drinking the water, which you eagerly take. you plop them into your mouth, sighing as you rest back against the couch cushions.

"take her to her room," levi orders erwin while spraying the spray onto the floor and couch.

erwin does so in silence, carefully carrying you to your room and laying you on the bed.

"levi won't hurt me will he...? please tell me he won't," you grit your teeth while holding onto erwin's shirt sleeve, tears welling up in your eyes.

"no, he won't. he's just scared," erwin grabs the hand on his sleeve and holds it in his own.

"of what?"

"uncleanliness. a while after he started living with me, i took him to a psychiatrist as i had noticed strange behaviors. he ended up getting diagnosed with ocd, and the psychiatrist thought it had to do with his upbringing in poverty. if things aren't a certain way or clean enough, it causes him to spiral," erwin explains carefully, trying to find the correct words and meanings as he speaks.

"doesn't that... give him more of a reason to hurt me...?" you squeeze his hand tightly and pulling it closer to you in fear.

"it doesn't. why are you insistent at how levi might hurt you," he bunches his eyebrows up in concern while scooting closer to you.

"he's done it so many times before... remember? if i say the wrong thing... i'll get slapped. if i make a mistake, he'll beat me.. i just don't want to hurt anymore," you sob hysterically, bringing your free hand up to your face to cover your eyes.

erwin stares in bewilderment. he hadn't realized just how much levi's beatings effected you. of course, they were supposed to affect you in some way, but not enough where you were terrified of making a wrong move.

"he won't hurt you unless you've deserved it, and you've done nothing in a while. he loves you," erwin stroked his thumb across your skin.

you raise your hand from your eyes to stare at him, heat swarming your face, "he does? he doesn't act like it.."

"of course he loves you," erwin smiles, "i love you as well. we'd never hurt you unless given a reason."

something about his sentence makes your head throb in pain. maybe it was the secret confusion that lingered in your head. they said they loved you, even though they kidnapped you and beat you half to death. but then again, they did provide you with things you'd mentioned to them before in order to keep you happy. they even bought a grand piano for you.

it has your heart speeding up and your body hot, bashfully looking to the side.

you loved them back didn't you? they'd treated you with such care, hadn't they? bathing you, feeding you, dressing you, and even visiting you. anytime they were around you, your heart would speed up and you'd get a weird feeling in your stomach.

that meant love, did it not?

subconsciously, you furrow your eyes and grit your teeth. they didn't love you. they were just crazy.

well, maybe they weren't crazy, maybe just misled. you've yet to learn about erwin's past, but based on the way he acts, you assume that it might be a sensitive topic. that had to be the only logical solution, right?

but if they weren't crazy, they'd let you outside, right?

but then again, the outside world could be dangerous at times. when you went outside last time, you did get scuffed and bruised because of the concrete. maybe they just wanted to protect you? that had to be it.

you open your mouth to reply, but the sound of your door opening and closing has you slamming it shut.

"she's still crying," levi asks while walking closer, frowning at how you grip erwin's hand tighter.

"it's best if i let you and her speak about it," erwin says sadly, letting go of your hand and making his way to the door, "alone."

you gulp as soon as erwin shuts the door behind him, staring at levi anxiously. he plops himself next to your body, just like erwin did before.

"please don't hurt me..."

sighing, he lays himself down next to you and pulls you close to him.

"i'm not going to hurt you," he pulls your head into his chest and wraps his arms around you, "not unless you deserve it."

"but...," you quiver, "you were so angry earlier."

"i wasn't angry. i was just... nervous, i guess. and it wasn't at you, or because of you, it was at the mess."

a silence floods the room as you relax in levi's embrace, heat once again spreading to your cheeks.

"what made you puke? i know lunch wasn't that bad," levi grumbles while rubbing your back, arm slightly stiff.

"erwin... was telling me about his case. the one about the girl getting kidnapped...," you tense up again while levi sighs.

"why would he tell you that? i swear he's gonna end up shooting himself in the foot one day," he shakes his head, "you're not like that girl."

"how so..."

"we did it because we love you, not because we wanted to use your body," he scoffs, "surprised you think of us that lowly."

"n-no! i-i don't," you exclaim.

"i know, i'm just teasing. but don't doubt us like that. we want to love you and care for you, not use you," you trace your finger in a circle at levi's sentence, embarrassment washing over you like a wave.

"you love me?"

"yeah, wouldn't do what i did otherwise."

"i think..." you furrow your eyebrows, unaware of the slightly shocked expression of levi, "i think i love you too..."

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sturchling · 4 years ago

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Adrien Agreste: Ace Attorney

I saw this idea from @lenoreofraven and I loved it. I had to try and write it out!

The class doesn’t just stand by during the Ladybug incident. Instead, they get a trial set up to prove Marinette’s innocence. Adrien becomes Marinette’s defense. What will happen at the trial?

Hope you like it!

Everything was going wrong for Marinette in this moment. Lila had accused her of stealing the answers to yesterday’s test, pushing her down the stairs, and stealing her necklace. Thankfully her classmates didn’t look convinced. And of course, Adrien knew the truth. He hadn’t realized how far Lila would go. He tried to say something to Mr. Damocles, but he was cut off, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you are here by expelled from this school.” Everyone gasped. Lila started smirking, but no one seemed to notice except for Adrien and Alya. Before Marinette was made to leave the building, Adrien interjected, “Wait Mr. Damocles. You can’t just throw her out! This is to fast, and you didn’t ask for Marinette’s side.” This is the moment Lila sealed her fate. She never thought people would agree to this suggestion. She mockingly asked, “What do you want Mr. Damocles to do? Hold a trial?” Alya, jumped on board with the suggestion. Anything to save her best friend. “That is a great idea. We would be able to make sure we punish the right person.” When Mr. Damocles still didn’t look convinced, Nino chimed in, “Also, it would be a great learning experience.” Max jumped in at this point, “This method of teaching the justice system is 98% more effective than a lecture style. It would be very instructive” That was about all Mr. Damocles needed to hear to be convinced.

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Lila couldn’t believe this was happening. She had been joking when she suggested the trial. She didn’t think the class would push for it so much, or that Mr. Damocles would agree. Now she was stuck. She couldn’t object to the trial without making it obvious that there wasn’t much proof. At first, she was just irritated, but wasn’t worried. She had tricked her class before. She would be able to trick whichever of her classmates ended up on the jury. Then Mr. Damocles announced the plan. Of course, Lila was the witness to all of this, so her role was clear from the start. Mr. Damocles was going to be the prosecutor for the trial. Mrs. Bustier would be the stenographer, to make sure there was a record of the trial. Lila was ok with the setup for the trial so far. Then Mr. Damocles continued, and that is when Lila realized she was in trouble.

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Mr. Damocles announced, “Ms. Dupain-Cheng may choose one student from her class to act as her defense. Ms. Cesaire will be the court investigator and is in charge of gathering evidence. We won’t be having a jury trial; we will just have a judge decide. Since Mrs. Mendeleiev was not involved in the incident directly, she is the most impartial. Therefore, she will be the judge.” Lila paled hearing this. The science teacher would be a lot harder to convince than a group of students would have been. Marinette wasted no time, asking Adrien to be her defense. This infuriated Lila, and she only got angrier when Adrien agreed. Mr. Damocles said that they trial would be held tomorrow, so everyone had time to prepare. With that, the day was over and everyone went home. Lila went straight home and started rehearsing for her performance tomorrow. It would have to be the most convincing performance she had ever given.

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The next day, the class gathered in the class room and got ready for the trial. Alya had spent all night gathering evidence. She had wanted to get security footage, but apparently the cameras had been nonfunctional for a while. She gave all the evidence she had gathered to both Mr. Damocles and Adrien so they could read it over before the trial began. Once Mrs. Mendeleiev arrived, the trial began quickly. Lila walked to the front and gave her testimony, “Well, I saw Marinette steal the answers to the test that we took the other day. I didn’t want to get her in trouble, but I eventually decided it wasn’t fair to the rest of the class who worked so hard for their grades, so I sent an anonymous tip to Mrs. Bustier. Then when we were sent Mr. Damocles’ office, Marinette got really mad at me, she yelled at me and was saying stuff like how I shouldn’t have said anything and she would make me pay for this. When we got near the stairs, I felt a pair of hands on my back push me and then I fell down the stairs. I yelled as I fell, and then everyone came out to help. When we got in the office, I finally felt safe enough to tell Mr. Damocles’ that Marinette had stolen a pendent that was passed down to me by my grandmother. When we went down to the locker room, Marinette opened her locker and my necklace fell out.” After Lila was done, she hid her smirk. She had done a brilliant performance. She was sure that she had swayed Mrs. Mendeleiev to believe her. Then Lila heard Mrs. Mendeleiev say, “Thank you for your story Lila. Mr. Agreste, you may cross examine the witness now.” Lila braced herself as Adrien stood up. She just had to keep her story straight and everything would work out.

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Adrien was prepared for this. He knew that Marinette was innocent. Now he just had to prove it. He walked towards Lila and asked, “First, you said you saw Marinette take the answers. When was this?” Lila answered smoothly, “Why, the day before the test. She stayed in the room after class and when Mrs. Bustier wasn’t looking, she took the answers.” “That is interesting. Because, myself and several other students saw Marinette leave as soon as class was dismissed. I would like to submit this evidence. Sworn statements from seven other students who all say they saw Marinette leave as soon as the school day was done.” Lila looked flustered for a second but quickly composed herself, “Yeah, but she came back to the school and that is when she took the test answers.” Adrien quickly faced Lila again, “Really, because you just said she never left. And we have a written record of that version of your testimony. Another interesting bit of evidence is Mrs. Bustier was sure that she saw the answer key when she left. She locked the door when she left, so Marinette couldn’t have gotten in and taken the answers after that point!” The rest of class started murmuring at this and Lila started to panic. She didn’t think Adrien would be paying attention to every detail, or that Alya would have found all of this evidence in one night.

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Once order was restored in the classroom, Adrien continued, “Now that we have covered the cheating accusation, lets move on to you accusing Marinette of pushing you down the stairs. First thing to point out, is you just said that you only felt hands on your back, and you didn’t actually see Marinette push you, is that right?” Lila got a bit more confident at this point. Her and Marinette were the only ones in the hall at this time, so it would be hard to disprove. “Yes, that is right. I may not have seen her, but it had to be her. There was no one else there.” “And yet, when you originally spoke to Mr. Damocles you specifically said that Marinette pushed you down the stairs, which suggests you saw her.” Mr. Damocles yells, “Objection, she never said she saw Marinette push her, just that she was pushed. And Marinette was the only likely suspect, as she was the only one present.” Adrien got frustrated hearing that, but moved on, “Ok, but there is still another problem with your story. You claim to have been pushed down the stairs. That makes a lot of noise. But even though this supposedly happened right outside Mr. Damocles door, and Mr. Haprele in the courtyard, no one heard anything until you started yelling.” Lila started to stammer, trying to come up with an excuse, but Adrien didn’t give her a chance, “Another thing that is important to note, falling down the stairs would cause a lot of injury. Bruises and scrapes and other very obvious injuries. The only injury you claimed was a hurt knee. However, within a few minutes of the incident, despite you claiming that your knee was hurting severely, you were able to walk normally.” The classroom erupted, as people discussed this new revelation. Adrien was right. By the time that everyone came to search Marinette’s locker, everyone saw Lila walking normally. Lila was becoming increasingly nervous as this trial went on. She was watching her whole story fall apart. She noticed that everyone was looking at her doubtfully now. Lila knew that everything rested with the last claim now, she had to be careful.

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Adrien continued his cross examination, feeling more confident by the minute that he would win, “Regarding the last accusation, you accused Marinette of stealing your necklace? The one that has been passed down through your family?” Lila replied, making her voice choke up like she is about to cry, “Yes, that necklace means the world to me. It was given to me by my grandmother and we all saw it come out of Marinette’s locker. I wish I had been wrong; I don’t want to think she could be so cruel.” Adrien smirked, “Interesting. You claim it is from your grandmother, but when we look at the necklace, we can see the Gabriel logo. This necklace is from his new jewelry line. It couldn’t have been passed down through the family like you claimed!” Lila got frazzled at this point and burst out, “What does it matter if it isn’t an heirloom. The point is that Marinette stole it. It was in her locker, it had to be her that stole it!” Adrien yelled, “Hold it! These are the same lockers that have been broken into time and time again. Chloe got into Marinette’s locker to get the present that Marinette made Mrs. Bustier. Alya got into Chloe’s locker when she thought Chloe was Ladybug. There aren’t even any locks on them. It is completely possible that someone else put it in the locker to frame Marinette.” Everybody realized Adrien was right. Those lockers have never been locked; anyone could have put the necklace in there.

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Mr. Damocles stood up and asked, “Ms. Rossi, is there any reason that you are sure Marinette did all this. Any reason that Marinette might have to hurt you?” Lila saw her opportunity; this could be how she gets out of this. “Yes. Marinette is jealous of me since I’m closer to Adrien. She feels threatened because she and Adrien are just friends but Adrien and I are-” Adrien jumps up, “Objection!” Mrs. Mendeleiev turns to him and asks, “Yes, Mr. Agreste?” Adrien states, “Marinette isn’t just a friend,” Everyone in Mrs. Bustier’s class holds their breath. Could this be the moment that Adrien admits his feelings? Adrien continues, “Marinette is a very good friend.” Everyone in the class groans. False alarm. So, Adrien is going to be dense for another day, Adrienette won’t be happening today. Even Mrs. Mendeleiev seems put out by how oblivious this boy is. “Mr. Agreste, while I appreciate that Marinette is a good friend, lets try to stick to the matter at hand.”

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After all of this, the trial ended quickly. Mrs. Mendeleiev ruled in Marinette’s favor. She said that not only did Adrien make a good argument, but Lila kept contradicting herself. Mrs. Mendeleiev also suggested that Lila’s mother be contacted, since she had been lying about this it was possible that she had been lying about some of her other ailments. Lila was horrified, how could everything have gone so wrong. Lila was led away to the office to wait for her mother. Marinette was busy celebrating have proven her innocence when Mr. Damocles walked over to her group, “Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I wanted to apologize for blindly believing the accusations.” After he told Marinette that she could of course return to school, he went to go deal with Lila and her mother.

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It was quickly after that meeting that it was revealed that Lila had been lying ever since she arrived in Paris. Lila was expelled because of her truancy and Marinette wasn’t sure what happened to Lila after that. She never saw Lila around Paris again though. Marinette was so grateful to her class for believing her and for getting that trial to prove her innocence. Adrien enjoyed being Marinette’s defense, and now wondered if he should become a lawyer. His friends started jokingly calling him Adrien the attorney after the trial. Adrien was just glad that he could protect his friend. Adrien had warned Lila. Don’t mess with his friends or you will have to face Adrien Agreste, Ace Attorney.

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furimmerich · 4 years ago

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“What do you want?”

Miles' pen halted and he contemplated brushing the question off for a moment. "What do you mean, Wright?" he instead settled on an equally curt question. It only seemed fair.

"I mean, like..." Wright only sat still, his mouth open, as he tried to think an explanation for it. "Your goal. What do you really want?"

The emphasis on the want was unnecessary, but Miles acknlowedged him with a wry scoff. "...justice, what else?" It seemed he had answered a bit too slowly, as Wright was on him--metaphorically, of course--in an instant.

"Just justice? That's a bit of a meek want, especially since it's something you only recently were driven towards." The attorney's huff at the end was a bitter reminder of his still-present ill feelings towards Edgeworth's sudden 'death' several years prior. "You don't have anything else that's, say," the man's volume suddenly dropped, "more personal?"

The arrow hit its mark, but the prosecutor would not back down yet. "Seeking justice is as much a personal concern as a professional concern, mind you," Miles simply retorted, straightening his files. "I have no such of the personal desires you inquire me for, Phoenix Wright."

"Really?"

"Certainly."

Wright stared through him with pursed lips, his urge to press forward obvious and obnoxious; as always. "No...perhaps, romantic wants?"

"Had I not told you I have no interesting in being wed?" Edgeworth's own lying annoyance rang through his ears and he cleared his throat in an attempt to silence it. "I care not for romantic relationships; I keep everything purely professional."

"So, we're purely professional best friends?" The defense attorney had started to get dangerously close to the prosecutor. "I think that's a little contradictory, Edgeworth."

His tone alerted said man to keep an even voice, "I think not? We've known each other for more than twenty years, I'm sure you, of all people, understand that." Phoenix then flatly murmured something including the word 'liar' and 'locks' and Edgeworth found his own breathing had suddenly silenced. "Pardon?"

"Nothing." The response was choked out, but a response nonetheless. "But you're sure?"

"Incredibly sure, so, stop asking. I'm trying to work," the prosecutor continued to emphasize his point with a pen click. "And shouldn't you as well?" It was more of a plead to leave his office than a suggestion.

The former hummed questioningly before processing his demand. "Ooh... nah," Wright grinned, "Apollo and Athena have everything under control," he paused, "probably."

"Prob-" Miles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're too carefree. You should be more wary about your job, Wright. I'd rather you not lose it again."

"Hey, you can't joke about that!"

"I assure you, I'm not joking."

"You're cruel!" Despite his words, Phoenix laughed. Miles couldn't help as he smiled a bit, though he quickly hid it with clearing his throat. "You don't needa worry about it. You...You helped me and I'm...so, so thankful."

"I was merely helping..." the taller man blinked, thinking through his words carefully, "...a friend." The hesitation in his reply visibly displeased Wright, but otherwise the attorney said nothing else.

After a few moments, the office went silent, besides the occasional paper rustle as Edgeworth organized files. He was quite grateful for it. He would finally be able to finish these final documents...

"You look quite cute in glasses, did you know that?"

"...P-Pardon?" Miles tried to wrap his head around what he said.

Phoenix sat there with a smile on his face, staring right at him. "Glasses. You look cute in them."

"...c-cute..?"

"Attractive? ...Hm..." the defense attorney tapped his chin in thought. "One of those. I like them." He gently reached out, slipping his index under Edgeworth's chin. "And your eyes..." he didn't finish his sentence, but what he wanted to say was in the air.

"Wh-What kind of n-nonsense..." Miles trailed off into a mumble, but he didn't pull away. He only averted his eyes for a moment.

"It's not nonsense at all, Miles."

"N-Ngh...You..."

"Gimme a kiss?" Wright tilted his head, leaning over the prosecutor's desk. "Please?" Desire gleamed in his eyes.

"W-Wright..." Miles could barely breathe, and he liked it. Wright's finger against his skin was hot, and he liked it. In a moment of feverish temptation, he cupped the former's cheek and brought him into a kiss. Warmth flooded his face as he felt lips move against his and, god, it was intoxicating. And it almost stung.

After a moment, they separated, if separated meant barely centimeters apart still.. Miles was surprisingly disheveled and Phoenix looked surprisingly happy. "Holy shit...I've been wanting to do that for years," he murmured.

Despite his own joy, something still hurt. Attraction. Was it romantic? Did he only want his body?

"...please." His tone was so pathetic it hurt, but Edgeworth could deal. "Please, tell me it isn't just physical."

"What isn't just physical..?"

"Please don't just be physically attracted to me," Edgeworth practically begged. "I-I can't handle that kind of--"

"No?" Phoenix seemed to realise he sounded more questioning. "No," he repeated firmly. "God, no. Miles, I love you for you. I have for...what, since we were kids? Your courage, your kindness, your passion, your honesty; you're amazing in every single way. I'm lucky enough that you're just as handsome in and out."

Miles knew he meant it. And, god, he felt more for the man in front of him than he could verbalize. Relief relaxed his nerves and he pecked Phoenix on the lips again. "I...love you."

The other man chuckled, a smirk on his face. "I know. You're a bad liar." Though his smirk wasn't mean. Not mean like von Karma's when Miles messed up, or like Gant's when he had presented the forged evidence. It was a nice smirk, because it was Phoenix.

"Maybe I am, but what does that make a certain bluffing defense attorney?" He received an indignified scoff in retort. "You're just as bad as me, darling," the nickname rolled off his tongue easily. It seemed to fluster Wright as well, as he stuttered in response. Miles decided he'd keep it.

#narumitsu #wip #edgewright #klavs writing tag #wrightworth #writing wip #fanfic #this is kind of messy #but i like it so far

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years ago

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✦ • ° *. — Ｓａｅｒａｎ＇ｓ　Ａｆｔｅｒ　Ｅｎｄｉｎｇ — . * ° • ✦

chapter guide | chat with me | maybe a coffee?

summary: Saeran has finally found MC and is ectasic to finally be able to enjoy the good ending his tumultous life has reached. But with Saeyoung still missing and Mint Eye around, his happiness may have to wait a little more. Was love really capable to win against his inner demons or will he have to learn to fight for himself?

chapter warnings: [check chapter guide for story warnings] mentions and/or descriptions of night terrors

c h a p t e r f o u r — it’s not like me to be so mean you’re all i wanted

“Are you sure about this?” MC asked as she stepped into Jumin’s office. He closed the door behind her and sat on one of the sofas, inviting her to do the same.

“I already told you it’s more than okay. We have an interior designer but I… I am discontent with how this office looks. I want to change it and you need a job, what’s there more to ask?”

“I guess you’re right,” she replied with a smile, taking out a notebook from her purse. “I guess I was just worried you would have a problem with your father about hiring a different interior designer.”

“Not at all, I made all the normal paperwork C&R asks for a new employee, like a background check and some other revisions. You will also get the benefits freelancers get from our company, in case you were wondering.”

MC shot her eyes up at Jumin. He looked back at her, his eyebrow slightly raised. The silence between both of them became thick, the notebook on MC’s hands trembling slightly

“You’re worried about what I saw on the background check,” Jumin rationalizes, crossing one of his legs over the other one. MC nodded, her eyes darting from her notebook to the man sitting in front of her. Never before had she felt so vulnerable with someone from the RFA.

All this time, she believes only Saeyoung knew about it, since he was a hacker. She had done the best to hide her steps, never commenting on anything she shouldn’t have, knowing that even though Saeran was a better hacker than Saeyoung, he trusted her enough to not dig around her past and she planned to keep it that way.

She would tell him eventually, she had told herself. When she was ready.

“You shouldn’t worry about that. It’s not like you did something wrong,” the man in front of her said. “By your reaction I assume no one knows? Well, Saeyoung probably does. Does Saeran…?” MC shook her head. “I see. Well, he won’t hear it from me,” he assured her. “You can stop worrying about that.”

MC stayed in silence for another moment and then opened her small notebook with a long sigh.

“I’m guessing you’re going to want cats somewhere?” she asked with a small smile, to which Jumin imitated her.

“I actually do. I’ve been thinking about getting some cat pottery. I’ve found a couple of those at a designer website that seem to be a good fit.”

“Can you send me the link, please?” she asked, taking a note. “I will try to see if they still have them.”

The rest of the conversation fluctuated between casual conversation and ideas about Jumin’s new office. Even though she tried her best, she couldn’t shake the feeling of someone else knowing what had happened a few years ago. She wasn’t ready to tell everyone (and a part of her was sure she would never be) and now she felt as if Jumin was finally looking at the real her. The way he talked to her was the same, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was bound to happen at any second, that if too many people knew about it, somehow history would repeat itself.

Jumin insisted she returned home with Driver Kim and, as soon as she jumped out of the car, she went straight to the kitchen. Distract yourself , had been the clear indication she had been told whenever her thoughts were too much. She put her earphones on with music on high volume as she followed the recipe.

Distract yourself , she repeated the words someone else told her before. No. She didn’t get to break down at something that didn't happen. Jumin didn’t question her about it. Hell, Saeyoung had never questioned her about it. Why would she allow herself to feel like this?

No, she deserved to feel like this. She had the right to feel scared, she had the right to feel whatever she wanted to feel. It had happened a while back, yes, but it was not going to happen again. She felt her chest tighten. It was not happening again. Just because people knew didn’t make it any different. She wasn’t in the wrong, she hadn’t done nothing to feel shame about what happened. It was okay, she was going to be okay, she was--

She felt a hand over her shoulder and screamed.

“It’s me, it’s me!” Saeyoung said, raising his hands in surrender as you took your earphones off. “I’m sorry, I asked you something and you didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

MC shook her head. “It's okay. You just startled me, that’s all. Not used to you being without the leg cast.”

“How did it go with Jumin?” Saeyoung asked carefully.

“Oh, it was okay. He has some ideas so maybe I’ll work on that later. I have to bring him a proposal by the end of the week,” she explained. Saeyoung nodded and waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. He understood.

“I was just going to ask what you were planning on cooking today,” Saeyoung said, his tone playful, trying to lift her mood. “Honestly, I’ve been so blessed since you started taking care of the food around here. God listened to his humble server and said: You! You deserve good food!” he joked, pointing at a corner in the kitchen. MClaughed. “And I was there, choking on a Honey Buddah probably, agog, aghast,” he said, running to the same corner and playing himself. “Thankful. Blessed. Touched by God’s light and MC’s cooking.”

More laughter erupted from MC as Saeyoung kept joking around. The door opened and they both saw Saeran entering the apartment, hands on his pockets and a dull expression on his face.

“Saeran! I made dinner,” Saeyoung beamed.

“I made dinner,” she corrected him, elbowing him on the ribs playfully. MC looked over at Saeran and smiled at him. “It’s going to be ready in twenty minutes or so.”

“I don’t want it,” Saeran muttered, leaving his keys on the small coffee table. Her smile faded and she did the best to bring it back up.

“Should I save you some for later?”

“No,” he said, avoiding her gaze and heading over to his room. The smile on her face finally vanished and she felt once more a hand on your shoulder. Saeyoung looked at MC apologetically and she shrugged, trying to rest importance to what just had happened.

“I’m guessing you do want some?” she asked and he immediately nodded with a smile.

“Please, I’m starving,” he sighed, putting a hand on his neck theatrically. You giggled and went back to your cooking, listening to Saeyoung rant about something he had seen on a movie the past week.

You had never been so thankful to have him.

…

Apparently, decorating an office with little cat motives while also maintaining a professional look was harder than MC had expected. She had been up all night in her room looking for new furniture and items she could add, drawing and drawing Jumin’s room in her pad and checking the photos and measurements she had taken earlier over and over again.

It felt good to finally be back to work again. After months of thinking only about religious cults and Saeran’s recovery, she knew she needed to get back on track. She had been without a job for about two months when Saeran had first contacted her to try out “an app”, and thinking she hadn’t many job opportunities before and rent wasn’t going to wait for her, she had taken it.

And now there she was, four months later trying to get back on the saddle.

MC clicked the next page on the website and a pop up of a blonde woman offering her help navigating the website made chills run down her spine. How long would it be until she could stop thinking about Rika? She took a sip of her coffee and let out a long sigh.

She still couldn’t believe Rika was found unimpeachable. Her attorney had brought a psychiatrist to the court who claimed to have assessed her as she waited for the trial. Apparently, Rika had been through her fair share of trauma as a child. Thanks to Yoosung, MC already knew Rika had been adopted by cruel parents and judging by what she’d seen at Mint Eye, she was sure Rika wasn’t in her best mental state. The updates MC read online didn’t provide any video of the trial itself as some subjects were private, but the source did confirm Rika was practically delusional. She had talked about a childhood friend named Mika, who she claimed has given her the idea for Mint Eye. But when Rika’s attorney tried looking for her, he discovered said Mika had died at the brief age of ten years, just a couple of years after being adopted.

Apart from the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder the psychiatrist had diagnosed Rika with, it seemed Rika couldn’t differentiate real life from her imagination anymore. The psychiatrist claimed she also had a complex personality disorder that could take time to correctly diagnose. The information presented on trial was enough for the judge to find Rika unimpeachable and sent her to a mental facility to spend the rest of her days.

The night she read those updates from the trial, as she rocked Saeran softly to help him sleep again after a nightmare, MC let herself cry again, torn between the feelings of wanting her to suffer and trying to understand she hadn’t been in her right mind from a very young age. As she looked through the window, she thought about V. She remembered Saeran mentioning V had been a victim of Rika as well and her heart broke by how much suffering he had been into while also being kind to her during the days MC spent at Mint Eye.

MC closed her eyes and wished V were healing as she was thinking about him.

A loud crash startled her, making her look at the door. Another crash and screams followed and she quickly stood up, recognizing Saeran’s voice immediately. She opened Saeran’s room and found him tossling on his bed, eyes closed and face damp with sweat.

“Saeran, wake up,” she whispered, standing on the edge of the bed. “Saeran, baby, it’s a nightmare,” she said in the softest voice possible, grazing his arm with her fingertips.

The door opened again and Saeyoung entered, his honey eyes widening at his brother screaming on the bed. He quickly jumped on the bed, ignoring MC’s protests and took Saeran by the shoulders, sitting him up.

“Saeran, wake up!” he said, shaking his shoulders. Saeran’s teal eyes opened and Saeyoung smiled again. “Hey, it was a--”

And that was when the first strike hit.

Saeran had punched Saeyoung in the face, who had fallen on the bed backwards. Saeran hit him once more as his brother tried to cover himself. MC gasped loudly and quickly latched herself on Saeran’s back, trying to restrain his arms the best she could.

“Saeran, it was a nightmare!” she yelled. She could hear Saeyoung’s grunts underneath his brother and she wished she had more strength than Saeran. “You’re safe! You’re not in Min Eye, you’re safe!” she assured him, using all the force she had to restrain his arms, stopping him from hitting Saeyoung any further. “Saeran, you’re safe!”

It took Saeran a moment to stop his movements. His body immediately tensed up and MC figured out he had noticed Saeyoung’s body underneath him. When she demeaned safe, she let go of his arms, which fell limp against his sides.

“Are you okay?” she whispered and looked at Saeran nodding slowly.

“What happened?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Saeyoung got up from bed and MC noticed the faint stain of blood on his cheek. He put his hand over Saeran’s shoulder and shrugged nonchalantly.

“You had a nightmare, but it’s okay now!” he said with a grin. Saeran looked up with a grimace.

“I hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I hardly doubt she did,” Saeran muttered, his head leaning to MC’s side. Saeyoung dismissed him, moving his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Gonna get cleaned up, try to get some rest, bro,” he said, leaving Saeran’s room.

Without a word, Saeran got back into his bed and even let MC put the sheets over him. Her face was full of concern and he realized for the first time, she was quiet after one of his nightmares. She would usually talk to him, trying to get his thoughts to stop swimming around like they were in that moment.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, making her eyes look at him. She quickly nodded.

“I held you back, so you didn’t hurt me,” she replied, putting a strand of his hair behind his ear. “But don’t worry about that now. Did you take your pill before falling asleep?”

Saeran nodded, watching MC’s lips purse.

“They will start working better soon, I promise,” she whispered. Saeran watched her lean down as she always did to leave a kiss on his forehead but stopped herself. His chest ached. “I’m still working on that Jumin project, so I’ll be awake for a while. Knock my door if anything happens, okay?” she asked him sweetly and he nodded once more.

Battling with her intense desire to stay, MC stood up and left Saeran’s room without looking back. There wasn’t anything in the world she wanted more than to stay by his side until he fell back asleep but she also knew he needed to get better without the need to have her around. He couldn’t depend on her, no matter how much she was craving to go back and snuggle up with him, trying to chase all his nightmares away.

There was also the lingering concern about Saeyoung.

She found him in the bathroom, trying to pour alcohol over the wound on his cheek. She stopped him and made him sit on the toilet gently, trying to assess the damage. Thankfully, his cheekbone didn’t seem to be broken and the wound on his cheek was small, so there wasn’t the need for stitches. MC started cleaning it up in silence with a cotton pad, taking her time.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. She quickly shook her head.

“You didn’t know. But in the future, when he gets those night terrors… you need to wake him up gently. Works best on him or he gets confused and sometimes violent,” she explained. A move of her hand made Saeyoung hiss. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Duly noted,” Saeyoung tried to smile, but failed. MC some cream on the other cheek, hoping it didn’t bruise too much.

“Just give him some time, please,” she asked him softly.

“Don’t worry for me, MC,” Saeyoung grinned. “I’m okay.”

MC wished she believed him.

previous chapter | next chapter [tba]

#mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #saeran after ending #saeran ae #saeran x mc #saeran choi x mc #mysme saeran #mm saeran

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youngbounty · 4 years ago

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After being on Tumblr for a while and seeing all the Manfred Von Karma hate, I've come to realize that I might've developed a soft spot for our most dispicable villain. Honestly, the guy gets FAR too much hate than he deserves. Hear me out!

One of the things we learn about Manfred Von Karma is that he has a family. He has a wife, children and grandchildren. We also know that he loves them very much, considering how much he brags about them, takes pride in everything they do and his daughter Franziksa takes pride in being the daughter of Manfred Von Karma. If you play Miles Edgeworth Investigations 2, there's a part where Manfred Von Karma brags about how good his wife's cooking is despite being an amateur. It's clear that he's a loving father and husband to his family. He even took great pride in Miles Edgeworth and his accomplishments, despite being the son of the man he killed, and made him his heir.

On the outside, it does seem strange he would love any amount of pride and care for his pupil he's going to stab in the back in Turnabout Goodbyes, but there's also plenty to consider. Manfred Von Karma's only intention was to frame Miles Edgeworth for the murder of Robert Hammond, not his father. Had he succeeded, there's a good chance Manfred Von Karma would've been permoted as Chief Prosecutor and pulled a Blackquill on Miles Edgeworth as an inmate prosecutor. So long as Miles Edgeworth still followed him like that was his Lord and Savior, he'd take it as his mentor just doing his job. Miles Edgeworth confessing to murdering his father was one thing Manfred Von Karma didn't plan and it was after he realized the note from his mentor about the murder plan that we see Manfred Von Karma inside the Record Room. We see Manfred Von Karma trying to get rid of evidence from DL-6, but we also learn from The Grand Turnabout that if there is no evidence against the Defendant, they can be declared Not Guilty. Sure, Phoenix had files of DL-6, but Manfred Von Karma doesn't know that. Sure, Manfred Von Karma hates his perfect record being destroyed, but wasn't it already destroyed anyways thanks to the Not Guilty on Robert Hammond's murder? Manfred Von Karma's not Godot, he's not going to allow a Not Guilty verdict just to indict the defendant of another crime. He's a perfectionist, if he goes down, then how can he call himself a Prosecutor? Not to say Manfred Von Karma purposely lost to Phoenix when it came to DL-6, I'd definitely disagree on that, but it's clear he was ready to burst with his guilt tumbling down on him like an avalanche. He lost his perfect record and his star pupil. You can't expect this insane guy to walk away with his head held high. The moment Miles Edgeworth realized his nightmare was real was the moment Manfred Von Karma lost everything and had no one to blame, but himself.

Manfred Von Karma's relationship with Miles Edgeworth is the one that really sticks out. This is because, strangely enough, it's a very healthy student/mentor relationship that gives us a reason for why Miles Edgeworth looked at Manfred Von Karma as some sort of god. Think of how Miles Edgeworth looks to Phoenix Wright, setting the gay jokes aside. Doesn't Miles Edgeworth also look to Phoenix Wright the same or similar way as he did with his mentor? We all know the reason why: Phoenix Wright saved Miles Edgeworth. Miles Edgeworth looked to his father to the highest degree, because he saved innocent people. So, what's the reason for him looking to Manfred Von Karma as a character who looks up to those that save innocent people and would go heaven and earth to save himself? I think that speaks for itself.

Manfred Von Karma saving people seems laughable on the surface, after seeing what he did to Gregory Edgeworth and his star pupil, but let us think of this possibility. Wasn't it also Manfred Von Karma that defended Delicia Scones from being falsely accused and framed for murder? It isn't like he had a reason to do so. I'm not saying Manfred Von Karma is Superman, but I do think that his heroic side needs to be addressed to understand why Miles Edgeworth would look up to a man like him. We need to understand why Miles Edgeworth seeing Manfred Von Karma as a murderer is what led to him writing a suicide note and being left with uncertainty of his Prosecutor’s Path. The reason is simply because Manfred Von Karma was a man that has saved innocent lives and perhaps has saved Miles Edgeworth at some point in time.

If I had to sum up what brought such a soft spot for Manfred Von Karma for me, it’s the fact he’s an evil person with a moral compass. He believes in perfection, but also loves and cares about his family and those under his authority. He’s the kind of person that would kill someone for ruining his perfect record, but is also the kind to save the innocence without being asked. He will call anyone foolish for going against him, but will defend the honor of his lowly wife, because he loves her. Manfred Von Karma is a human being that feels emotion and holds some sort of moral compass. He’s also the only mastermind villain that only murdered out of the heat of the moment. Manfred Von Karma didn’t create the earthquake or plan on Gregory Edgeworth to be stuck in an airtight elevator, then pass out to give him a moment to murder. In fact, what Manfred Von Karma did to Gregory Edgeworth is called Voluntary Manslaughter.

It’s only once you consider that Manfred Von Karma’s murder was Manslaughter and compare that to all the other villains that did murder through methods that were calculating and deliberate with the sole intention of taking someone’s life that you also have to consider that Manfred Von Karma isn’t a cold-blooded killer. Manfred Von Karma is no Dahlia Hawthorne, Kristoph Gavin, Damon Gant, Blaise Debeste, Patricia Roland, Shelly De Killer, Matt Engard, Dogen, Ambassador Alba, Redd White, Tigre, Acro and many others who had planed and calculated murders with the sole purpose of murder without regrets. Manfred Von Karma fits in with the other murderers that did murder, but only had out of passion at the moment it happened such as Frank Sawett, Dee Vascez, Godot, Jaques Portsman, Melee, Gustavia, Alita Tiala, and probably more, some of whom have been proven to only be given a lifelong sentence.

I have often had Manfred Von Karma to be given the Death Penalty, but I also consider he may’ve been given a long or life sentence. Phoenix has hinted the possibility of Manfred Von Karma having been executed, but it’s also not certain either. I don’t think we’ll ever know. What I do know is that Manfred Von Karma is in the middle on the scale of the most to least evil villain in Ace Attorney. Even his murder cannot compare to many of the most colorful villains. Manfred Von Karma murdered out of circumstances. He never planned it or even knew the outcome of it. Also, unlike the number of the most evil villains in Ace Attorney, Manfred Von Karma showed love and pride toward his family and students. He never once used them to commit any crimes or schemes. Yes, he stabbed Miles Edgeworth in the back, but again out of circumstances. Had Miles Edgeworth not shown up at Gourd Lake, Manfred Von Karma would’ve thrown Yanni Yogi under the bus quicker than a speeding train. Had he found not found Gregory Edgeworth inside the elevator or if little Miles had been awake, Manfred Von Karma would’ve not picked up the gun and just went off his merry way. Any other most evil villain would’ve found a Plan B. Manfred Von Karma would’ve been angry, but would’ve cooled down after a long walk and a cup of tea. There wouldn’t be so many No DL-6 stories, if this wasn’t the case. You’d have to admit that there was a greater chance Manfred Von Karma could’ve not murdered Gregory Edgeworth had he not been found in that elevator.

I’m certain there will always be people that hate Manfred Von Karma, even after reading this. This is more of me speaking for myself. I used to hate Manfred Von Karma with a passion after the Trilogy. After playing Miles Edgeworth Investigations 2, I began defending Manfred Von Karma. I think it was mostly because it turned out that he didn’t plan or know that the Autopsy Report of IS-7 was forged. It made me wonder if, like Miles Edgeworth and Franziska Von Karma, if Manfred Von Karma never forged evidence and was just given falsified evidence for him to use from a much bigger villain. Not saying that Manfred Von Karma isn’t a horrible person, because he is, but I don’t think he ever was trying to be a horrible person. I do think he truly believed he was doing right and saving people. Think of it this way, if Manfred Von Karma truly wanted to make Gregory Edgeworth pay and suffer in the most cruel way possible, considering how he blackmailed Jeffery Master using his daughter, which one of these would Manfred Von Karma choose: kill Gregory Edgeworth or kill his son Miles Edgeworth. Which do you believe Manfred Von Karma would use against Gregory to make him pay, if he had everything planed and calculated?

I will leave you guys with that question to think about.

#Ace Attorney #manfred von karma #Gregory Edgeworth #Miles Edgeworth #DL-6 #Ace Attorney villain

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deadstrangeblog · 5 years ago

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The Sad Case of The Lipstick Killer

North Kenmore Avenue is a much sought-after residential area in the city of Chicago, with a children’s park surrounding the apartments and transport links within walking distance. It lies around the corner from a prestigious Catholic school and the uptown setting is popular with young families and elderly residents alike, it’s safe atmosphere and cheap living costs appealing to people from all walks of life. North Kenmore wasn’t always as safe though. In 1945, in Apartment 4108, a woman was brutally murdered there.

It was June 5th when 44-year-old Josephine Ross was found slain on her apartment floor. Police were greeted by a messy scene– Pools of blood surrounded Josephine and the smashed up apartment indicated there had been a struggle. She had been stabbed multiple times and a dress had been wrapped around her head. Usually, when a killer covers the face of a victim, it suggests that they feel a great deal of remorse about the crime they have committed and that death is almost always the end result of an impulsive sex crime. However, this seemed different. No evidence of sexual assault was present and death had definitely been the result of a frenzied attack. Police found a clump of dark hair in Josephine’s hand, as if she had been in a violent struggle with somebody. Naturally, police turned to her ex-boyfriends and ex-husbands, all of whom had an alibi. Although the neighbourhood was frightened at the prospect of a murderer living close by, the police assured people there was nothing to worry about and that Ms. Ross had been killed by a startled burglar. Her murder didn’t make the front page, and she was sadly written off by investigators.

Six months later, and we are in December. Our killer strikes again but, this time, police begin to take notice. On the 10th of the month, divorcee Frances Brown was found dead in her apartment. She had been stabbed and shot, the bread knife used in her murder still lodged in her throat when a cleaning lady discovered the body. The grim message shown above, written in unusual handwriting, was scrawled on the apartment wall in red lipstick (earning the killer his moniker) but apart from that, little evidence was found. Compared to the first murder, police did have a bit more to go on: a bloody fingerprint and a possible eyewitness. John Derick, the concierge for the lobby, said he saw a nervous man and heard “possible gunshots” at around 4 a.m. Given the lack of surveillance technology during the 40s, it was impossible to confirm John’s account.

The last known murder of the deluded “Lipstick Killer” was a truly shocking crime against an innocent little girl. Six-year-old Suzanne Degnan (below) was snatched from her bedroom in Edgewater, Chicago, on January of 1946. Her bedroom window had been left open and a wooden ladder was still propped up against it. At the time, police had no reason to believe her abduction was connected to the Lipstick killer, as kidnapping little girls didn’t fit his modus operandi. A ransom note left at the scene read “GeI $20,000 Reddy & wAITe foR WoRd. do NoT NoTify FBI oR Police. Bills IN 5’s & 10’s. BuRN This FoR heR SAfTY.” That night, a man persistently telephoned the Degnan residence demanding the ransom, only to hang up as details were being exchanged. Those phone calls would later turn out to be a cruel joke performed by two high-school students, Vince Costello and Theodore Campbell. Sick with anguish, her family could only hope that the police could find Suzanne before it was too late. Sadly, their worst fears were confirmed. Acting on an anonymous tip, detectives travelled to a sewer just a block away from the Degnan residence and found Suzanne’s decapitated head. Where was the rest of her body? Investigators were now faced with the grim prospect that somebody had dismembered a little girl, and they were unfortunately right. They found her torso in storm drain, and both her legs had been discarded in separate catch basins. Her tiny arms were found a month later in another sewer. Blood, presumed to be Suzanne’s, was found in the drains of laundry tubs in the basement laundry room of a nearby apartment building. This crime was truly grisly, and without advanced forensic technology, it was hard to bring the killer to justice.

In a desperate bid to catch the murderer, police questioned hundreds of suspects and gave polygraph examinations to about 170 of them. In several press releases, they claimed to have captured the killer terrorising the city of Chicago, but they were always mistaken. All suspects were eventually released.

In June, 17-year-old criminal William Heirens (below) was burgling an apartment when he was confronted by the janitor and fled. Police were called, and Heirens was subdued by an off-duty police officer who dropped several flowerpots onto his head to render him unconscious. From the day of his arrest on June 26, 1946, things travelled on a downward spiral for Heirens and this once lucky burglar had run all out of luck. For some reason, police believed that Heirens was the Lipstick Killer and decided to question him. For six consecutive days, he was interrogated by police officers. He was denied food, water, and the right to an attorney, and two psychiatrists even gave him Sodium Pentothal (a potent barbiturate) without his consent. Most shocking of all, the 17-year-old was given a spinal tap without any anaesthesia. For days later, he was in incredible pain and couldn’t perform a polygraph test because his adrenaline-fuelled heart was beating too fast. Eventually, he cracked. He confessed to police that he had committed these crimes under an alter-ego named “George.” He explained to psychologists that he always took the rap for the crimes of “George” including theft, murder, and everything in between. The Chicago police department were suspicious of this defence, and accused Heirens of lying in the hopes of getting an insanity defence in court. Apart from his confession, police had nothing to go on. No evidence linked Heirens to the murders, and this polite University of Chicago student seemed incapable of such heinous crimes. It seemed like a bizarre arrest, but for the general public, it was good enough.

As suggested by his defence attorneys, Heirens confessed to all crimes. On his court date on August 7, 1946, Heirens took full responsibility for the three murders. The prosecution had him reenact the abduction and murder of Suzanne Degnan in court multiple times, all of which he did inconsistently. On the night of September 4th, Heirens attempted suicide in his cell and had timed it to coincide during a shift change of the prison guards. He was discovered hanging and was revived successfully by prison guards. He said later that sheer despair drove him to attempt suicide; “Everyone believed I was guilty…If I weren’t alive, I felt I could avoid being adjudged guilty by the law and thereby gain some victory. But I wasn’t successful even at that. …Before I walked into the courtroom my counsel told me to just enter a plea of guilty and keep my mouth shut afterward. I didn’t even have a trial..”

The next morning, the prosecution and defence were making their closing statements. The judge, Chief Justice Harold G. Ward, formally sentenced Heirens to three life terms. Somehow, he had been lucky enough to avoid the electric chair. As Heirens waited to be transferred to Stateville Prison from the Cook County Jail, Sheriff Michael Mulcahy asked Heirens if Suzanne Degnan suffered when she was killed. Heirens simply replied: “I can’t tell you if she suffered, Sheriff Mulcahy. I didn’t kill her. Tell Mr. Degnan to please look after his other daughter, because whoever killed Suzanne is still out there.”

Likely innocent, William Heirens still spent the rest of his life imprisoned. In 2002, a petition for his release was filed but eventually denied. In his older years, he suffered from diabetes and was confined to a wheelchair with limited eyesight. He died of natural causes on March 5th, 2012, due to complications with his illness.

In 1994, Dolores Kennedy formed a team of forensic experts to look into the murders and they found several inconsistencies, most notable was that Heirens’ confessions didn’t fully match the evidence. Heirens claimed that he was forced to confess by the police, and this is also supported by other evidence. They also concluded that the handwriting of the lipstick message and that of the ransom note were not the same and that neither matched that of Heirens. They also looked into the police force working on the case: Before Heirens was arrested, police had taken particular interest in a janitor called Hector Verburgh. 65-year-old Hector was from Belgium, and struggled to write fluently in English. With this in mind, isn’t it odd that police still arrested him and accused him of the murders? How could a man with no knowledge of English writing, scribble such an eloquently written note on his supposed victim’s wall? It didn’t stop there. Like Heirens, Verburgh was subjected to extreme torture. For two days, police interrogated him and beat him so badly that he sustained a dislocated shoulder. After his terrifying ordeal, he successfully sued the Chicago Police Department for $15,000.

“Oh, they hanged me up, they blindfolded me … I can’t put up my arms, they are sore. They had handcuffs on me for hours and hours. They threw me in the cell and blindfolded me. They handcuffed my hands behind my back and pulled me up on bars until my toes touched the floor. I no eat, I go to the hospital. Oh, I am so sick. Any more and I would have confessed to anything.”

With such atrocious behaviour from the police department, it’s safe to say that the man convicted of these crimes was not the real killer, merely a scapegoat for shoddy police work. The true identity of the Lipstick Killer is yet to be discovered, and, sadly, it seems that those who were murdered were not the only victims in this disturbing case.

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haught-n-cold-gay · 4 years ago

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tell me how

My Catradora multi-chapter fic found on A03

Summary:

Adora's a hardcore workaholic defense attorney fighting to keep innocent people out of prison.

Catra's an angst-ridden private investigator trying to make ends meet.

Both of them are hell-bent on saving three rookies from prison and taking down the corrupt cops that arrested them.

The only problem?

Ten years ago Catra and Adora ended whatever they had and they are a little pissed about having to work together again. And for some reason, the attraction that was there ten years ago hasn't subsided. It's a complete mess. They're a mess.

Chapter 1: i can’t call you a stranger

Darkness usually beckoned people to sleep, but Adora was different. She always had been. She felt comforted by the fact that when she was awake, the rest of the world was asleep. She liked the silence; the way that no one could seem to bother her at such a late time. Yet somehow, she never felt lonely in the depths of night. The stars had kept her company ever since she was young. Even as an adult she relied on the stars, even when they were barely visible with all the city light.

Late into the night or morning (Adora couldn’t tell), her eyes burned as she stared at the screen. She wanted to fight against her bodily functions, hating her eyes for having the audacity to feel tired. She had work to do. She always had work to do.

But Glimmer texted her. Glimmer always texted her right when Adora was getting somewhere in her work.

Glimmer: Adora, it’s 1:00, please come home

Adora did what Adora did best. She ignored the text. Glimmer tended to worry about things that had nothing to do with her, especially when it came to her best friend. Most days, Adora loved that about her. Tonight, she was annoyed. She was so close, she felt it deep in her bones. She was going to find something that would prove the innocence of--

She got another text and groaned.

Bow: Glimmer is killing me, Adora! Don’t make me come pick you up!

Fuck. She would have liked to believe that Bow was just kidding, but knowing him, his threats (since he rarely gave threats) were never empty. Bow was the nicest guy in the world, but he was just as stubborn as Adora. If he believed he was doing the right thing, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. It was what made him a ruthless (and empathetic) lawyer and good friend (albeit, a little frustrating sometimes).

Murmuring curses to herself, she gathered up all of her shit and texted her friends that she was on her way back to their apartment. She didn’t want to stop working when she was this close, but she also knew she had a habit of passing out when she doesn’t sleep for a few days. It didn’t happen often, but it happened often enough for everyone else besides her to consider it a ‘problem’.

Her eyes were betraying her as she drove home. It was a short five-minute drive, but the number of times she had to smack herself was frightening. Even with her music up all the way, she almost fell asleep. It wasn’t really a problem, though. She was fine.

“You look like--”

“Shit,” Adora answered as she entered the small apartment that she shared with her best friends and colleagues. “I know. I was so close with the Yates case, you know.”

Glimmer had her hands on her hips and her ‘mom’ face on. “I’m sure you were. Go to bed, Adora.”

Adora rolled her eyes and tried to remember how much she loved Glimmer on a good day. Glimmer was her first friend at the firm. Glimmer was the first person who gave her a chance. Glimmer was crafty and wicked and brilliant and Adora loved her. But dammit, Glimmer was the ‘mom’ friend and Adora did not appreciate being treated like a child. She didn’t want anyone to take care of her as if she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself.

“Is Bow sleeping in your--”

“Go to bed, Adora!” Glimmer (though almost a whole foot shorter) grabbed a hold of her and pushed her toward the direction of Adora’s incredibly tiny room. Usually, Adora was much stronger than her friend with pink tips in her hair, but she barely had any fight left in her.

She had enough energy to get into the bathroom, but was terrified to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t have to see herself to know that she probably looked like a mess. She didn’t have to look at the mirror to know that her blue eyes were probably slightly red with dark circles underneath and that her blonde hair had random strands pulled out of her tight ponytail. She brushed her teeth and washed her face.

Her bed was calling her, practically chanting her name, but when she laid down (with all of her clothes on), she suddenly felt very awake again. She loved the night, but she hated her insomnia. She had always been a bad sleeper, but it had gotten worse over the past few years. She thought that when she got to a point when she was working 24/7 she would be able to fall asleep out of exhaustion, but that hadn’t been the case. She still stared at the ceiling and tried the tricks that Google had suggested. They never worked, but usually, they were enough of a distraction to the other kind of thoughts that usually fragmented her mind at night.

Adora took a deep breath and exhaled. Sometimes she really wished she would take the melatonin like Glimmer kept telling her to.

-+-+-

“Oh my, that’s disgusting.”

Catra almost completely flinched. She had forgotten that she had brought Scorpia along for the stake-out. Since Scorpia was a talker, the numbing silence must have made her feel like she was still alone. She was used to the woman chatting her ear off about things that Catra didn’t care about. Her not talking for a long amount of time was new for her.

“What?” Catra just took pictures of the couple in the car.

“He’s married. He should not be hooking up with someone else. I just don’t understand people. Marriage is a sacred oath.”

Catra snorted as she took more pictures knowing that she was going to get a big check for this case. This was the first stake-out she had taken her new partner with. She normally hated to do ‘cheating’ cases, but she was hurt for cash and, well, it was an easy cash maker. She had to do the shit so that she could do the work she really wanted to do.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Scorp, the wife is going to get a huge chunk of change in the divorce. She could probably take everything from the dick.”

Scorpia harrumphed. “Still. She’ll hurt from seeing this.”

Catra didn’t mind Scorpia most of the time, but the tall woman had more emotions than anyone Catra had ever met before and it made her incredibly uncomfortable sometimes. She liked doing this job untethered to any emotions at all. It was easier.

“Look.” Catra turned to her new partner and scowled. “The people that pay me already know deep down that their partner’s cheating. I just take the pictures.”

Scorpia shivered. “I would never cheat. That’s just so cruel, you know?”

Catra shrugged. She had never been cheated on or cheated on someone, though she guessed that at one point she was probably the ‘other woman’, not that she really cared. Sex was sex. Sometimes she forgot that there were people out there like Scorpia who really believed in love.

“Good for you. Let’s head back. We have a meeting with the trio.”

Scorpia nodded, obviously still bothered by what she had just seen. Scorpia was a good investigator, Catra knew this (it’s why she hired her), but she still thought that the woman was naive. Scorpia was the kind of person who believed that good was in everyone. Catra knew that if anything, everyone was capable of bad, but some chose not to touch their own darkness.

“The trio. You mean…”

“Yeah.”

The trio. The three rookie officers who found out about illegal shit going on in the police. Things that Catra had already figured, but needed proof of. They were three idiot kids who were in fear of their life, but they were good at finding things out and snooping. Catra felt like she was so close to bringing down the corrupt cops for good.

“Insane. Really. Cops on the take from criminals. I mean, what is the world turning into?”

Catra frowned at her. “Are you joking or stupid? Cops have always been bad, Scorpia. They’re usually just better at hiding it.”

Her partner looked away out the other window and Catra knew that she had gone a little too far. Scorpia usually thought that Catra was the epitome of good, but sometimes she proved to Scorpia that she was a douche. Scorpia usually tried to not believe it.

“Do you think Entrapta has hacked into the police database yet?”

Catra smirked and answered, “There’s nothing Entrapta can’t hack into. At this point, she’s probably hacked the NSA so many times that it bores her.”

Scorpia nodded and Catra could see that Scorpia was still hurt. Part of Catra cared and thought about apologizing for being so harsh, but she knew by now to ignore that part of herself. She didn’t like that part of her. The vulnerable side of her.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Catra agreed softly, not knowing what else to say. “It is.”

-+-+-

The alarm that woke Adora up was an old Paramore song that she was addicted to years ago. She never changed it (and she didn’t think she ever would). She rubbed her eyes that didn’t feel like got a minute of sleep. She didn’t know why she still woke up more tired than when she went to sleep. She shook the dark thought out of her head. It was a new day. A day to really make the change she wanted to see in the world. The lack of sleep made it feel worth it.

Steaming water from the shower covered her body and she enjoyed the sensation. After long nights, she usually woke up aching. The water always helped.

“Adora!”

Glimmer. Adora pulled the curtain back slightly to see her best friend in a cute dress in her bathroom. Glimmer really had no definition of ‘personal space’ and sometimes it really showed.

“What, Glimmer?” She thought that maybe the growl that came out of her mouth would scare her away, but it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. It never did.

“I was just thinking… are you going to go on another date with Huntara?”

Adora was about to hit something, or more specifically, someone. Glimmer had always been invasive about her love life (or lack of love life), but it got worse after Adora admitted that she didn’t do relationships. She regretted revealing that information and really regretted drunkenly admitting that she had sex with someone from the office.

“Glimmer, do we have to talk about this now?”

She shrugged dramatically and said, “I think she’s great, you know? But she flirts with everyone, Adora. And I know she’s hot and all but--”

“Glimmer.” Adora tried to hold herself back and remember that Glimmer wasn’t trying to offend her or anything like that. “Huntara and I aren’t dating. We slept together once after we had a lot to drink. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Adora, I thought you liked her?!”

Glimmer was a romantic. Adora knew this about her best friend (just like she knew Bow was the same way). She made up her mind a long time ago that she wasn’t made to be with anybody. That her focus was going to be on work, on making the world better, but Glimmer did not accept that. Adora appreciated that her friend thought she deserved more, but she knew better. She knew not to go down that road. Besides, she rarely had any sort of feelings for anybody. She just didn’t work that way.

“I do like Huntara. She’s amazing. Seriously. But I don’t have fee lings for her and I do not want to date her. Or date anyone. You know that.”

Glimmer just grumbled loudly. “Fine. I still think that you should let me try to set you up with somebody. You know, Perfuma thinks you’re great. And she’s single.”

Adora knew why she emphasized the last word. The last person she tried to set Adora up with was Mermista, who already was in a relationship with Sea Hawk, even though she pretended to hate him. Besides, as much as she liked the professional deadpan investigator of the firm, there wasn’t anything between them that resembled a spark. Not that Adora had much experience with that feeling anyway.

“No more set ups, Glim.” She turned the water off and pulled the towel off the hook before getting out. “I don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone.”

Glimmer pouted. “Okay, but what if there’s someone really hot and--”

“Glimmer.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’m done meddling. I’m going to see if Bow’s done with breakfast. And don’t worry, he’s made a pot of coffee. You’re addicted.”

Adora rolled her eyes and smiled at her best friend, who she knew always meant well. “So are you. Now get out of here.”

-+-+-

“Don’t get angry, Catra. I’m sure that there’s a perfect explanation for why--”

“They are little fuckers,” Catra seethed as she slammed her hands on the table, ignoring Scorpia’s looks of concern. “Of course they gave up. I can’t believe I put any faith in literal children.”

Scorpia was staring at her, her short bleached white/grey hair swooping along her forehead, and Catra knew what was coming. The optimistic speech about giving people a chance, yadda yadda yadda, people might surprise you, yadda yadda yadda. Catra didn’t know how the woman was still an optimist; she knew how much shit she had been through.

“Exactly, Wild Cat. They’re children. Give them some space. They’ll come back. They’re good kids.”

Catra knew what it was like. The police were really an indoctrinating boys club founded on morals they only took seriously when it fit their own ideology, but it was well cloaked by the idea of justice. Catra was once fooled, too, many years ago. But she never got to the point of being a rookie cop. She never even graduated from the police academy. She had seen the truth and never looked back.

She turned her attention away from Scorpia and the memories of her past back to Entrapta. With her hacker, she still felt like she could get things done without the idiot kids. Entrapta was in the corner of their cramped office space typing away on her several different screens.

Entrapta was weird. She was brilliant, but weird. Catra still didn’t understand why the woman with long purple hair in pigtails who occasionally wore a bug mask continued to work for her. Entrapta could do anything, but here she was.

“Yo, Entrapta. Please tell me you did not stay here all night.”

She looked up with wide eyes and declared, "I couldn't say that unless you want me to lie. Do you want me to lie?"

Catra rolled her eyes but felt the tug of a smile on her lips. “You need help, Entrapta. So, did you get in or what?”

Entrapta grinned at her like the cheshire cat. “Oh, I got in all right. I got in after ten minutes. Honestly, if they don’t want us to hack in, why make it so easy? It’s like they want us to hack in. I mean, I could delete every file if I wanted to. Or I could put out a BOLO for the captain, Catra. I could--”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, brainy. You could do a whole shit load of bad. As much as I appreciate that, do you think we could get the case records?”

Entrapta just blinked at her. “I could have done that in third grade. But to warn you, they just started to use digital records. I’m guessing most of the records are still in paper files somewhere. Imagine the chaos if someone were to burn--”

“You terrify me, Entrapta.” She said it in a joking tone, but there was something about the genius that was a little intense. She knew that if Entrapta wanted to destroy anyone she could. She did not want to get on her bad side.

The hacker just shrugged and continued to type rapidly, off doing her own thing. Catra didn’t even want to ask what she had been up to the entire night if it had taken her ten minutes to hack into the database.

-+-+-

Angella was walking toward the three of them and Adora felt the air knock out of her. Angella was not just the mother of her best friend, she was the managing partner of the Bright Moon law firm and Adora’s boss. She was beyond intimidating and all she wanted to do was prove herself. Adora wanted to become a partner before she turned thirty (just like all the other associates).

“I have a new case for the three of you. Follow me to my office. We have a lot to discuss.” She swiftly turned around and expected Adora, Glimmer, and Bow to follow her.

Adora shared a worried look between her best friends. They already had so much on their plate, they couldn’t imagine handling another case. But it wasn’t like they could tell the woman that. There was no way that she’d let them become partners if they couldn’t handle what they had already.

The three of them sat down in Angella’s large office with floor to ceiling windows that made Adora feel uncomfortable. The elegant woman just looked at them and sighed.

“I wouldn’t normally ask associates to work on a case like the one I’m giving you, but our partners have already too much on their hands. I want all three of you on this one. This case is important to me and I trust all three of you to handle it.”

“Mom--I mean--Angella, what’s going on?” Glimmer asked her, sounding a little bit concerned.

“Our firm has been investigating the PPD for a long time. You all know the corruption that happens there.” The three of them nodded, Adora more slowly than the others. “Three rookie police officers were just arrested for stealing evidence. Drugs.”

Adora was confused. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Angella shook her head. “I think the rookies are innocent, Adora. I got a call from a friend who’s representing them and they say that they were helping a PI agency get dirt on the corruption going on. She thinks that they’re trying to bury the rookies.”

“A PI agency?” Bow asked, voicing Adora’s exact thoughts.

Angella nodded. “It seems like a legitimate agency. I’ll give them a call after this meeting. I want you three to meet with the rookies right now if you can. The charges have already been filed so they have probably been booked. We need to make sure that they get bail.”

“Angella,” Adora whispered, her voice shaking more than she thought it would. “What PI agency is it?”

The managing partner looked through some papers and said, “Uh, Horde Investigations & Consulting.”

Adora gripped the arms of her chair and felt the sensation of her whole body getting dunked in a pool of ice water. For a second, she forgot how to breathe. She knew who was running the agency, she didn’t even have to ask. The name rose to her throat and stayed there. Lingering.

“Adora?”

Adora cleared her throat and smiled hard at Glimmer. She didn’t want anyone to know about the maelstrom in her mind that surrounded the person she tried to not think about.

“I’m fine. Let’s get to work.”

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eeveevie · 5 years ago

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Salvation is a Last Minute Business (2/18)

Chapter 2: How to Be a Detective in 10 Easy Lessons

It’s a new year, and Madelyn is trying to stay busy. Hancock pays a visit to the Detective Agency with an olive branch in the guise of a case for Nick. On the beat, a former mercenary turns informant with more information about the mysterious Railroad. Nick and Madelyn track down their missing person while Eddie Winter makes his first deadly move.

“Well, sure there is. It comes complete with diagrams, on page 47 of 'How to be a Detective in 10 Easy Lessons,' correspondence school text-book and, uh, your father offered me a drink.” - Philip Marlowe as played by Humphrey Bogart (The Big Sleep, 1946)

x - x

Without giving much away, this is a content warning for a minor character suicide that mirrors the canon in-game side quest.

[read on Ao3] ~ [chapter masterpost]

January 10th, 1958

Nick’s desk was covered in case files, whiskey and cigarette ash—an organized chaos was what he liked to call it, but all Madelyn saw was a fire hazard. This was the way Detective Valentine worked best, however, frazzled and hunched over his scattered notebooks, mumbling incoherently behind the wafting plumes of smoke. The agency was for many the one gleaming beacon of hope in an otherwise dark and dishonest world. Nick had proved his reputation with the people was well earned by helping the community the best he could with the limited resources he had, maintaining a network of clients that kept him in business over the years.

“Everybody deserves their fair chance,” Nick always said, so much so that Madelyn considered putting it on a plaque for his wall—if the walls weren’t covered in photos, wrinkled maps and scribbled handwritten notes.

She found it all admirable, part of the reason she agreed to work with him when initially assigned by the District Attorney’s office two years prior. She didn’t realize that by staying, she’d be forging one of her strongest friendships, discovering one of her most trusted of confidants. Yet, as Madelyn lingered in the doorway of his office, she found it difficult to find the right words to say. She wanted to tell Nick about the clandestine note she received on New Year’s Eve, tell him she felt paranoid about being followed and wanted another training session at the shooting range. Instead, she continued to worry at her bottom lip, awkwardly shuffling the small stack of papers in her hands.

“You can stand there lookin’ like a doll or you can come in here and help,” he spoke, not bothering to glance up at her. Still, she noted his little smirk, eyes lit up as he scrawled away on his notepad.

“I know you didn’t hire me to be a pretty face,” Madelyn bantered, knowing it was all in good, clean fun. She crossed the small space, planting herself comfortably on the cushioned seat in front of his desk.

Nick gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “I didn’t exactly hire you. You just showed up here on my doorstep like some kitten left out in the rain.”

She laughed, thinking back to the early days of their partnership. Providing legal aid to a private detective that didn’t always play by the rules—it wasn’t the easiest of jobs for Madelyn. It wasn’t until she realized Nick was forced into the unscrupulous position by the Boston Police Department, who saw his presence as interference rather than assistance, never giving the agency the insider access they desperately needed. Perhaps if they did, there wouldn’t be so many unsolved disappearances or murders plaguing the city. That being said, she made sure Nick stayed out of trouble, pulling in favors where she could, the two using their powers of persuasion to find answers to burning questions. It was easier to toe the line than cross it, but each day as the violence and corruption spread across the city, the line became harder to see.

“What’s on the docket for today?”

The question had barely left her lips when there was a commotion in the lobby, Ellie’s frantic voice calling out as her heels clicked across the wooden floors. “Sir, sir! You can’t just walk in there. You have to have an appointment and—"

“No worries, sister,” the familiar, dulcet voice approached. “They’ll be happy to see me.”

John McDonough—Hancock—strolled through the doorway like he owned the place, ignoring Ellie’s protests. The mayor’s younger brother looked considerably different than he did the night of the police gala—dressed in dark slacks and half-buttoned up shirt, a faded red jacket with golden, frilled trim more suited for Halloween than streetwear. He plopped into the empty armchair, hooking his knees over one side and glancing to Madelyn with a wink.

Nick’s demeanor immediately soured. He pointed at the other man. “Speak for yourself.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have come all this way if it weren’t for nothing, Nicky boy,” Hancock grinned. “Can’t you bend an ear to an old friend?”

Madelyn focused on the detective’s expression, eyebrows knitted together in quiet contemplation as he rummaged for a cigarette before realizing he was fresh out. Hancock noticed, instantly reacting to produce a pack from his jacket pocket. He leaned forward to offer her first, but she declined with a silent wave, causing him to move to Nick. He hesitated, scrutinizing the gesture with narrow eyes before ultimately obliging.

“What are you doing here, John?” he asked, sounding more like the start of an interrogation as he struck a match.

Hancock appeared amused by Nick’s insistence on the name as he lounged back in the chair. “I have a peace offering for you. A case that the local police can’t be bothered with because of the victim’s so-called lifestyle.”

At Nick’s silence, Madelyn interjected. “What is it?”

“Missing person.”

Finally, Nick sighed, relenting. “Give us the details.”

As Hancock spoke, Madelyn wrote in her notepad, neat and succinct lines—they’d have more luck with her organization skills. The missing? Earl Sterling. Twenty-five-year-old bartender from the Fens who worked at the local sports bar across the street from Fenway Park. “Vadim, who owns the bar—close personal friend—came to me crying, thinking Earl had been snatched up by the boogeyman. But who would want to hurt Earl? He ain’t out to hurt nobody.”

Nick was nodding along, jaw clenched, clearly in frustration of another disappeared citizen. That would be thirteen—that they knew of. “And Boston P.D.? They think Earl was undeserving of a proper investigation?”

Hancock scoffed. “Friends in low places. Doesn’t matter that he’s squeaky clean. But since Vadim’s a Russian immigrant, a refugee that has had his run-ins with the law…”

“Of course,” Madelyn sighed, disheartened. It was a cruel underlying fact that not all Bostonians were keen to the changes the war brought. Most carried on with quiet discontent, but others were far more vocal to the point of outright bigotry. A child raised by virtuous parents, Madelyn knew better, ashamed of the city she had lived in all her life.

Nick could sense her stewing restlessness and spoke, nodding at Hancock. “We’ll take the case, track Earl down. One way or another.”

Curiosity got the better of Madelyn as she stared at the two men, sensing the lingering tension. Ever since Piper first mentioned the younger McDonough brother, Nick’s attitude had been uncharacteristically dismissive, and without explanation it was gnawing at her mind. “What’s the deal here?”

Hancock’s eyebrow arched high against his forehead. “Whatcha mean, sister?”

“The animosity in the air is thick enough that I could bottle it up and sell it as a fragrance,” she joked. “Might get rich enough that I could retire early. Buy that cabin up in Maine I always dreamed about.”

While Hancock bellowed out an impressed laugh, Nick sighed through his nose, lips set in a flat line as his cigarette dangled. Still, Madelyn knew he was amused, green eyes bright as he rolled them her way. Hancock’s entertainment settled as he crossed his arms over his chest with a final, breathless chuckle. “I’m surprised ol’ Nicky never told you about me and our time overseas.”

“You two served together?” she asked.

Nick reluctantly nodded, fingers tightening around the wrist of his prosthetic hand, the plastic-metal blend flexing. He didn’t like to talk about it—no matter how many years had passed between the end of the war and the present, it was still an open wound for many, including the detective. He balled his hand into a fist.

“London, during the Blitz,” he explained, in grim conciseness. “Was stationed in Kent in ‘41 during the bombsite recovery. As was John, though he was mostly preoccupied by the local…entertainment.”

Hancock hummed, with a faraway look in his eyes. “There’s something about the English accent, ya’ know?”

“You were disillusioned then, and you’re disillusioned now!” Nick suddenly snapped, hands smacked against the table as he stood up to loom over the other man. Hancock hardly looked intimidated, not even flinching as Madelyn did. “Sneaking off base to get your kicks in some back alley, coming back high as an Air Force bomber. No wonder you’re turned into a beatnik.”

“Better a beatnik than a dick,” Hancock murmured.

“Boys! Boys!” Madelyn stood up with a loud clap of her hands, garnering both of their attention as she stood. “Jesus Christ! Do I need to put you two in separate corners for time out like the curtain-climbers you are?”

Nick scrambled to sit back down, knowing it was a rare thing for her to use the lord’s name in vain, even lightly. Hancock snickered, but flinched when she whipped her head in his direction. “I think you owe Nick an apology, Mr. McDonough.”

He shifted uncomfortably like she had asked him to perform one of Houdini’s acts. “Sorry, Valentine.”

“We’re good, John,” Nick stood again, this time reaching over to extend his hand in some display of goodwill. Hancock took the offer, shaking it with a satisfied grin. “We’ll find out where Earl is.”

As the conversation came full-circle, Hancock tugged on the lapels of his coat and smoothed out the lines of his pleated slacks. He regarded Madelyn with a toothy smile, nodding his head once. “Miss Hardy.”

She watched as he turned on his heel, slinking out the way he came. Ellie’s disapproving voice called out to him again in the lobby as the bell above the front door chimed, signaling his exit. Miss Perkins’ usual sunny disposition was marred as she leaned into the doorway of Nick’s office, bottom lip jutted out in a frown. “Who was that?”

“Sorry Ellie,” Nick sighed, moving to grab his faded trench coat from the nearby rack. Madelyn smirked, knowing Jenny had purchased him a new one over the holidays—one for Hanukah and Christmas—but there he was, slipping his arms into the same dusty rag. “Hopefully you won’t need to experience such indecency again.”

“Heading out?” Their secretary questioned, looking between the two of them with a shine of excitement in her features. She always liked when they were busy.

Madelyn gathered the case notes under her arm before quickly shuffling back to her own office, pulling on her cream-colored coat that was in much better condition than her partner’s. Purse and papers in hand, she met him and Ellie in the front room.

Nick was adjusting his hat. “Keep a light on for us, won’t you?”

Ellie flashed a charming smile. “Always.”

Outside, there was a fresh blanket of snow on the sidewalk and a crisp chill in the air. Their destination was a short distance—only a few blocks east. She thought about what sparked their journey.

“Did you really mean that?” Madelyn questioned Nick as they walked in the direction of the Dugout Inn. He glanced at her, unsure of what she meant. “Disillusionment? Do you really not believe in Hancock’s cause?”

He made a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan as he rubbed at his chin. “I believe in results,” he answered, keeping his eyes focused on their path. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The Dugout Inn was a tiny hole-in-the-wall, located right on the corner of Boylston Street, opposite of Fenway Park. The clientele were mostly refugees, thanks to the owners, Vadim and Yefim Bobrov—immigrants from Russia who established the bar shortly after V-Day in 1945. Unassuming enough, though the two had their fair share of run-ins with Boston police over the years, mostly for expired liquor licenses or smuggling illicit moonshine. Never anything as serious as money laundering, tax evasion or murder. Mr. Bobrov’s good natured attitude had made him a valuable ally to Nick, perhaps even a friend, somebody the detective could turn to when searching for leads among the downtrodden and forgotten within the city.

Being a mid-morning Friday, it wasn’t surprising that the Dugout Inn was mostly devoid of patrons, save for Vadim’s twin brother and their lone waitress Scarlett who was dutifully sweeping near the back. There was one daytime drunkard, however, sleeping off his hangover in a faraway booth. Yefim was balancing the books at a nearby table, muttering about needing to pay the gas bill, barely acknowledging the passing duo with a wave. As they approached the bar, Vadim was beaming, wiping the countertop before them in earnest.

“Ah, my favorite gumshoe back to see old Vadim,” he set out two glasses, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Want to try the latest batch? May not have ripened yet, but…you always had a good sense of knowing!”

Nick softly chuckled, but shook his head as he removed his hat, placing it on the bar. “I’m not going to be your guinea pig again, Vadim.”

“And what about the lovely lady lawyer? My lapochka?”

Madelyn smiled at his flattery but waved her hand at his offering. “No, thank you.”

Vadim went to speak but hesitated, instead scrutinizing their appearance in his bar. Sudden realization dawned in his expression as he tightened his fist into the cleaning cloth. “Are you here about Earl?”

Nick had barely nodded before Vadim continued with a sagging hang of his head. “Oh, poor Earl. Gone, just like that. Such a good bartender. Good friend,” he trailed with a forlorn expression that morphed into one of slight amusement. “Terrible with the women, mind you.”

“Always in his cups about his face getting in the way,” he further explained. “I say, no mug is too ugly for any woman! What says you, Miss Hardy?”

She joined him in laughter, humoring the old flirt. “Oh, Mister Bobrov, if you were thirty years younger you might have a decent chance at making an honest woman of me…again!”

Even Nick snickered, shaking his head at the exchange. But they were here on business, not for a friendly exchange of words or a casual drink. They had a man to find, sooner, rather than later. At his signal, Madelyn pulled her notepad from her purse, pencil at the ready for any information they might gleam.

“See anybody from Winter’s gang around here lately?” Nick asked, eyes narrowed when Vadim quickly shook his head, coughing to clear his throat as the tone shifted. Nick quickly glanced to Madelyn who offered a quick shrug. Maybe zeroing in on Eddie Winter wasn’t the best idea. Would Vadim even know what a mobster type looked like?

“Oh!” The proprietor said excitedly, hands waving for emphasis. “A few days ago, there was this young mercenary type that I’d never seen before. Lingered about for a few days. Greaser kid that looked like he belonged to a bad crowd.”

“Did he and Earl speak?” Madelyn questioned.

Vadim shrugged, eyes glanced upwards as he remembered. “Yes? No. All I know is he looked suspicious. A—and I haven’t seen him since Earl disappeared!”

Nick was twisting his lips—a telltale sign he wasn’t entirely sure he liked the credibility of the information—but they had nothing else to go on. He tapped his finger against the counter impatiently. “Do you have a name? A location? Think carefully, Vadim. For Earl’s sake.”

A moment passed as the bartender mulled it over in his head. Vadim then straightened, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “MacCready! That’s his name! Rum and cola. Overheard him mention a hotel near Scollay Square…”

“The Rexford?” Nick mused, more to Madelyn than Vadim.

She nodded. “The Rexford.”

Scollay Square by 1958 was not the thriving center of Boston theatre and community it once was. Practically a ghost town, with most buildings boarded up after being destroyed by fire or looters, few businesses remained. The Old Howard Theatre—long shut down by the Boston vice squad stood at the epicenter like a shining reminder of the past. Always Something Doing—but not anymore. The area was now known colloquially as Goodneighbor, nicknamed after Mary Goodneighbor’s 1953 striptease that ended it all. Goodneighbor was a hive of sex work and drug runners, bootleggers and mobsters, all just out to make their living in the world—the perfect place for a person to disappear.

Nick decided the trip west warranted the use of his black Cadillac. They’d make better time, and even he wasn’t one to be caught walking through Boston Common—even armed—at any time of day with the increasing crime rates. As they pulled up outside the Hotel Rexford, they observed a disturbance on the sidewalk, snow flurries disrupting their view. Madelyn was exiting the vehicle before Nick could rush over to pull open the passenger door, ever the gentleman as he offered his hand to her. But she was more focused on the three men in a clear argument on the hotel steps, carefully observing the interaction as she hooked her elbow around Nick’s arm.

“Well, we’re outside now!” The scrawnier of the three shouted from the stoop.

On the sidewalk below, a man with wide shoulders and a crew cut snarled back. “Didn’t have to be like this, MacCready! We were just here to deliver a message!”

Madelyn and Nick exchanged knowing glances but refrained from interfering. While they had their lead identified, the situation was hardly any of their business. It didn’t mean that they weren’t going to eavesdrop and make it their business, gather information that might come in useful later on.

“It only took you six months to track me down,” MacCready spoke, taunting his aggressors. “Winlock and Barnes. You two always hold hands across Boston? Don’t you know I left your wannabe gang for good?”

The man Madelyn assumed as Winlock shook his head, irritated as ever. “Yet here you are, taking jobs where you shouldn’t be. Listen carefully, MacCready, it has to stop.”

“Like I have to take orders from you,” he laughed and for a split-second Madelyn wondered if there was going to be a firefight the way the third man’s hand flinched along his side, reaching under his jacket.

Instead, Winlock defused the situation with a curt nod, signaling to his partner Barnes to step back. “We aren’t going to kill you. Today. Wouldn’t want a war with Goodneighbor, or with Winter.”

Nick’s hand around Madelyn’s arm tightened at the mention. Whoever these people were, they weren’t affiliated with the mob organization terrorizing Boston. MacCready crossed his arms, seemingly bored with the conversation. “Are we done here?”

The two thugs traded steely looks—this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. “We’re done. For now.”

As Winlock and Barnes passed the Cadillac, they took one slow, up-and-down look at the pair of onlookers before disappearing down an alleyway. Madelyn looked after them, deeply unsettled, but snapped back to the present as Nick swiftly led them to the lone man left on the hotel stairs, pacing as he kicked at the snow with his sneakers.

“MacCready?”

“Look pal, I’m not looking for any friends,” he said with a wince, shaking his head.

Madelyn looked at their would-be suspect now that they were up-close. For Vadim to have called him suspicious was not wrong, but if anything, the man simply appeared to be down on his luck. Overall, he looked nonthreatening: faded, rolled up jeans, dark flannel shirt with an army bomber jacket and a matching cap atop his dusty brown hair. He was skinny, like he had missed a few meals, and it made her wonder if he was another veteran of the streets that had returned from the war with no home to return to.

“We aren’t here to make friends,” Nick’s tone was firm, signaling it was time to take the proverbial gloves off. The man was squirmy and would need the two of them to act fast if they wanted the right information. “Do you know anything about an Earl Sterling?”

MacCready didn’t take to intimidation lightly. He narrowed his eyes, looking over both of them. “What are you, some kind of cop? Can’t do his job without his lady wife?”

“Lawyer,” Madelyn corrected, removing her hand from Nick’s arm. She gestured in her partner’s direction. “Detective. Best not say anything that incriminates yourself.”

Nick laid it on thick. “We know you were at the Dugout Inn when Sterling disappeared, MacCready. So do us both a favor and tell us everything you know!”

The man held up his hands defensively, bewilderment spread across his features. “Jeez! Okay!”

“I was only there for two days, following up on…something. Yeah I saw Earl there. Nice guy, if not a bit ugly, but who am I to judge?” MacCready talked and the pair listened, Madelyn scribbling away in her notepad the important details. “He kept talking about needing to get out of town. At first it was innocent like…for a fresh start to meet the perfect woman, but the more drunk he got, the more it sounded like he was running from the wrong kind of people.”

“Who?” she followed up quickly.

“Heck if I know,” he responded.

Nick prodded further. “He didn’t mention the mob or a loan shark? The Railroad?”

The mention sent a shiver down Madelyn’s spine. Why, she wasn’t sure. For all of their digging in the last two weeks, the organization—if it even existed—was still shrouded in mystery. She stalled in her notetaking and tuned out most of Macready’s response. “…it’s just a myth.”

A familiar expression fell across Nick’s face as he mulled over MacCready’s words. Helpful? Hardly. It was more of the same of what Vadim had offered, leaving them at square one. Earl was still missing, and they were no closer to determining why beyond a vague threat of needing to get away.

“I might have something you can use,” MacCready voiced, shifting awkwardly down the snowy stairs so he was closer to them. “But if I’m gonna help you, you gotta help me.”

“What happened to ‘not looking for a friend’?” Nick remarked with a light smirk.

MacCready grumbled under his breath, clearly uncomfortable with the circumstances of their visit. He wasn’t having a good day, it seemed. “All bets are off when your life gets threatened in broad daylight.”

“Is that what that was all about?” Madelyn asked, motioning towards the alley where Winlock and Barnes had wandered off to. She flashed a teasing smile, hoping to get a rise out of the man. “Colleagues of yours?”

“Fu—heck no,” he answered, censoring himself. Odd. She chalked it up to a man not wanting to curse before a lady and rolled her eyes. “They are Gunners. Small town gang that operates out of Quincy. I—I uh, used to run with them about five years ago. When I was younger. Dumber. But then I wised up. Got married and had a kid. Gig like that doesn’t really pay the bills, you know?”

“You’re married?” Nick asked, the two seemed to simultaneously note the missing wedding band. He was trying a different, more sympathetic angle.

MacCready gave a solemn shrug, but his eyebrows furrowed with annoyance. “I was. But that isn’t any of your business.”

“Excuse me,” Madelyn blinked, the math not adding up in her head. “How old are you?”

MacCready chuckled like he was asked the question every day. “Twenty-two.”

Both her and Nick made the same surprised sound, staring at their suspect-turned-dud in disbelief. There went her veteran theory.

“I have a son, Duncan. He’s five years old,” MacCready continued, the emotions he expressed sincere. “I’m just trying to do the best I can by him. Can’t do that if I’m dead.”

“How do we fit into this equation?” Nick asked, tone softer than before. Madelyn smiled, knowing he couldn’t resist a hardship tale.

MacCready tilted his head back and forth with a low hum. “Two hot shot detectives like yourselves need an informant on the streets, right? Let me help you, and in return…”

“Lawyer,” Madelyn corrected, again.

“Exactly!” he replied, far too excited. “Crime and Punishment that sh—stuff.”

She decided not to lecture him on Russian literature and its vast differences to her actual career, which in itself were completely separate than what services she provided for the Valentine Detective Agency. She exchanged a silent, somewhat amused look with Nick, who seemed just as bewildered by the person they had crossed paths with. Finally, the two nodded and the detective extended his hand.

“Nick Valentine, Valentine Detective Agency,” he formally greeted.

MacCready chuckled as they shook hands. “You couldn’t make that stuff up, could you?”

His handshake with Madelyn was much softer, less amused. If anything, he seemed genuinely impressed. “Madelyn Hardy, attorney at law.”

“Robert Joseph MacCready,” he grinned. “RJ, Mac, MacCready. Whatever’s cool.”

“You have something for us?” she reminded, and he quickly removed his hand from hers with a short, excited inhale. The two watched as he patted the front of his jacket before digging through his pockets, finally producing a small key on a golden chain. “Is that…”

“Earl’s key,” MacCready answered with a sheepish smile, shifting his eyes away. “Figured if he was going to be running away, it might come in handy later on. Lives in those apartments near the stadium.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear this,” Nick muttered, shaking his head.

Madelyn wasn’t pleased that their best lead was stolen property, but at this rate, it was their best chance of tracking Earl Sterling down. She snatched the key from him before he could change his mind, tucking it away into her purse along with her notepad.

MacCready regarded her with a stern expression. “Remember my offer!”

She would. But for now, she and Nick had more work to do.

That wasn’t the first time Madelyn and Nick had backtracked across town, chasing a lead on a case. As they raced through the Fens past the stadium to the grouping of apartments that matched the name on Earl’s golden key, she was grateful that at least this time they hadn’t been sent to Quincy, or Concord. By the time they reached the Parkview Apartments, the sun was setting and the frosty chill from the morning had settled to a near freeze. She couldn’t explain it, but an eerie sense of dread settled in her gut, putting her on edge. Nick seemed to feel it as well, the two dashing up the flights of stairs to make it to Earl’s door.

“What do you think we’ll find?” she asked, nervous.

“Not sure, but we’re about to find out,” he answered, prompting her to unlock the door.

Madelyn was careful, quiet in her actions as she clicked open the lock, Nick taking the lead as he pushed open the door inch by inch. She followed closely behind, the two making their way blindly in the darkened room, the only guiding light the moon that shined in through a broken window shade.

“Mr. Sterling?” Nick called out in a low voice, scanning the area. It was a tiny, studio apartment, with a kitchen nook, a foldaway bed, a small closet and a door that led to the bathroom. From what Madelyn could tell, their missing person wasn’t there. Still, Nick called out again. “Earl? Are you here?”

“Nick, something doesn’t seem right,” she whispered, stepping away to inspect the foldaway bed. Even in the darkness she could see the mismatched stains in the carpet, an overturned nightstand and a few pieces of broken glass. She held her breath before tugging sharply on the release, jumping backwards as the bed—and Earl—came tumbling out. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

Nick managed to turn on a lamp, revealing what she had found, rushing over to her side as she turned away from the horror, covering her nose and mouth as to not retch. He wrapped a comforting arm across her shoulders, exhaling a low, defeated sigh. Earl was dead, but more than that, he had been brutally murdered.

“This wasn’t Winter,” Nick mumbled, drawing a quick conclusion. Madelyn had to agree, even if they only had the scene to go by—Eddie’s men weren’t into butchering their victims. “We need to call—”

They both froze as a clattering sound echoed from beyond the closed bathroom door. Nick swiftly pulled his weapon from its side holster—a well-cared for .44 revolver—and motioned for Madelyn to move behind him. She followed his silent instructions, and reminded him that she too was armed, calmly removing the small pistol she carried from the purse on her arm. He glanced at her with a startled expression—she’d hear about this later—but kept moving closer towards the closed door.

“We know you’re in there!”

When the door creaked open, the two were faced with a familiar, but horrifying sight. Doctor Crocker, a local cosmetic surgeon stood with a wild and strung out look in his eyes—a far cry from the friendly face on the billboard ads plastered around town. He cackled out a laugh. “Naughty, naughty! You’re not supposed to be here! But that’s okay! I can fix that. I can fix anything!”

Madelyn resisted the urge to curse or to scream. For a brief moment, she wondered if she felt this terrified when held at gunpoint more than a year prior by a different madman. Doctor Crocker, however, appeared completely unhinged, dangerous and unpredictable. He hadn’t just shot somebody. He had cut them apart and used their blood as paint for the walls.

“Take it easy, doc,” Nick attempted, raising one hand in a calming gesture, all the while keeping his gun aimed towards the doorway. “Let’s talk.”

“I—I didn’t mean to do it! Doctor Crocker is a brilliant surgeon!”

Talking in the third person was never a good sign, she decided, thinking he had to be high on some kind of illicit drug. Mixed with the adrenaline, the doctor was teetering on the edge of outright disaster.

“He never makes mistakes or loses patients! Only happy patients for Doctor Crocker!” he announced, reaching back to grab what turned out to be his own pistol. Now, Madelyn was petrified. And yet, she didn’t scream, resolve getting the best of her.

“You made a mistake, Doctor Crocker,” she tried Nick’s brand of persuasion, even if it made her skin crawl. “Do the right thing. Just think it through. Come with us quietly.”

At first, her words seemed to have an effect, the daze lifting from his eyes as he glanced down at the red stains that covered his clothes and the state of disarray surrounding them. Doctor Crocker flicked his gaze back to Nick and Madelyn, and the panic returned. “Oh god! I killed a man! There’s so much blood! Blood! All over me!”

He was weeping now, loud and hysterically. Hesitantly, Nick stepped closer in a last-ditch effort to resolve the situation. The doctor lashed out, pushing him away. Madelyn’s heart skipped a beat, and she thought she would be reliving the past all over again. “No! No one can find out!”

But Doctor Crocker didn’t aim towards them. Instead, he turned the gun on himself, barrel pressed firm against his chest before firing. The action took less than a second, faster than Nick or Madelyn could react or intervene. His body collapsed in the bathroom doorway, clearly dead on impact.

“You should’ve seen that,” Nick hushed, his faded coat coming into view as he tucked her head close into his shoulder. She didn’t even realize she was trembling. “You shouldn’t have seen any of that.”

A voice, somewhere in the back of her head told her it was just the beginning. She would become tempered, experienced. Most of all, she would heal. But first, she would see so much more.

Just like that, the Earl Sterling case was closed.

The Boston Police weren’t pleased with them, but then again, they never were. It wasn’t until past midnight when they were released from the scene, not without a scolding from Sergeant Danny Sullivan. It didn’t matter that they had tracked down Earl Sterling when Boston Police wouldn’t (or couldn’t) and had managed to hunt down a killer in the process. As the police saw it, because any blood was shed, it looked indecent on their behalf, and it all had to be handled very carefully. Nick and Madelyn feared that was codeword for coverup. But they weren’t threatened, or told to keep quiet, which further fed into the detective’s either hypothesis—that Winter had nothing to do with Earl’s death. What had started as a run of the mill case had left them with more questions than answers.

Madelyn and Nick were exhausted by the time they returned to the agency. Ellie had left her little glass lamp turned on, just as she promised, but the brunette was long gone. Instead, a different, familiar voice called to them from Valentine’s office.

“Rough night?”

Piper winced as soon as she saw them come through the door, clenching her teeth in a sharp hiss. It was likely obvious how ragged they appeared, and Madelyn was sure some of their clothes were splattered with blood from Earl’s apartment. Nick pulled off his coat with a groan, tossing his hat across his desk as he snatched up the fresh pack of cigarettes Ellie had left behind. Madelyn didn’t bother, practically collapsing into her favored armchair on the left and slinking down, no matter how undignified her posture appeared.

“That bad?” Piper asked.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Nick responded, puffing out smoke before taking in another deep inhale.

The reporter tapped the rolled-up newspaper she carried against her palm, shifting her gaze between the two of them. “Well, since we’re already swimming in it,” she half-heartedly joked before unfurling the newsprint, dumping it atop Nick’s desk so he could see. “Johnny Montrano Jr. is dead. They found his body in the Harbor this morning while you two were running around.”

Fury seemed to be fueling Nick now, who was already starting on his second cigarette. Madelyn perked up at the news, realizing what his reaction would be. “The bastard’s finally done it. He’s finally had him offed. Fed to the fishes.”

“Fishes didn’t really get to do their job though,” Piper mused, rolling her eyes when the two remained silent, too focused.

Madelyn looked to Nick. “He’s looking to take over the northern territories.”

“If he hasn’t already,” Nick replied in an ominous tone. “Nobody is safe anymore.”

Eddie Winter had just made his first deadly move.

#fallout 4 #fallout au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #fanfic #nick valentine #john hancock #robert joseph maccready #noir au #please look at the warning tag at the start y'all for this is exactly what it says on the tin this chapter #more brooklyn gifs feat mads and nick!#this was so fun to write and expand on nick and mads' banter friendship #also writing hancock and mac like I've never done before #oh and if you squint real hard deacon is here...somewhere #he's been there all along!#but will be making his grand appearance next week!

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years ago

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A bit of Bullshit Defense AU today! But also if you have not read all 14 available chapters of @runningwolf62‘s fic Dirty Paws yet, go do that and I will be here when you return, because this fic heavily, heavily leans on the Wolf and Roddy Cinematic Universe.

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Nick and Edgey are still talking about the homework but Larry is bored of it and he’s done as much as he’s gonna do by now. He wanders off into the kitchen to see what snacks the Edgeworths have and he is still there when he hears the front door open and close and Franzy comes in the kitchen. She gently sets her bag down on one of the kitchen chairs, shooting a look of disgust down at Larry’s bag which has spilled contents all over the floor. Hey, he was going to clean that up! Before Mr Edgeworth gets home, at least!

“Hey Franzy,” he says, and her head snaps up like she didn’t realize he was there, and an expression of fury contorts her entire face and she snatches up something out of her bag and storms across the kitchen to begin smacking Larry in the shoulder with it. “Ow! Hey! Hey!”

Even with the commotion neither of the other two come out to rescue him which Larry thinks is real cruel of them. “Larry Butz!” Franzy shouts. “Where is the next book! Where is it!” In between her assaults, he manages to wrench her weapon from her hands and sees it’s the third Warrior Cats book that he lent her yesterday. “You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

“Wh - you finished it already? I gave it to you yesterday!”

“Where is the next book, Larry Butz!”

“It’s at home! I don’t have it!”

“Graystripe left!” she shrieks. “ThunderClan doesn’t trust him! But RiverClan probably won’t either when he goes! I need to know what happens next!”

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow!” He’s getting beaten to heck by his best friend’s baby sister because of these cat books. What a day.

“I want to read it now! I want to know what happens with Graystripe’s loyalties!”

“I don’t have it now!” Seriously, neither Edgey or Nick is coming to make sure neither of them are bleeding? Rude. “But I do have something else you can read if you want more Warrior Cats!” She stares doubtfully at him, and at the book he’s lifted way over his head so that she can’t get it back and start smacking him with it again. “It’s not got Graystripe but I think you might still be interested.”

He stuffs his book back in his back and grabs one of his notebooks off the floor. “Your school notes, Larry Butz?” Franzy huffs. “I don’t want those.”

“It’s not my notes.” Wow, she thinks he takes notes and doesn’t just sneak peaks at Edgey’s and Nick’s? “It’s a story I’m writing. It’s about other Warrior Cats, ones I’ve made up myself, but they’ve still got Clans and a Warrior Code and stuff.”

She accepts the notebook, still looking wary but a little excited. “And cats with divided loyalties?”

“You really like the ‘forbidden lovers’ thing, huh?”

“It’s not about the romance!” she protests. “I like the - the…” Whatever it is, if she’s not just trying to cover up for the fact that she does like the romance, she doesn’t figure out how to put to words, and she just lets out a short frustrated yell and opens the front cover of the notebook. “Is this story finished? Or are you going to leave me hanging again.”

“It’s not done, no--”

She smacks him with his notebook and then storms off, but she’s already engrossed in the first page and nearly hits the wall as she leaves.

“--and then the rumor from the preview of the book is that Bramblestar has rabies.”

“Rabies?” Franzy repeats with a laugh. “You know,” she adds a moment later, thoughtfully, “that seems like a plot that they could have used sooner. Has anyone actually had rabies before?”

“I don’t believe so? Maybe because it’s supposedly supposed to be set in England.” But he’s never even nominally given a location to his fic, so, yeah, that would be a good plot. Maybe he should use that. Although most of his readers would know that’s a plot he’s stealing from fan theories. “I haven’t really read any of the recent books though. This is all what I’m hearing from--”

“--this internet friend of yours, yes,” Franzy interrupts. “The wolfman who likes cats.”

“Yeah.” The one and only.

Franzy rests her chin on her hand. “So you still haven’t told Misty why you draw cats all the time.”

“It’s not exactly been a priority these past couple weeks, no.”

“I meant any time before that, you still did not tell Elise.”

“What, that I initially found her book and then reached out to her because I stumbled across it in the children’s section of the bookstore when I was there picking up a book about talking cats because my wolfman internet friend told me that they’d actually put out a decent book for once?”

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds ridiculous.”

Franziska picks at the edge of her nail, listening as Agent Lang finishes his conversation with one of his agents. He stares at his phone a moment longer when he brings it down from his ear. Franziska glances over at the screen.

“I did not expect you would like cats.” It’s not even a picture of a cat, like he has a cat at home. It’s some cute art of a cat. Like something Larry would draw.

“Didn’t expect you to like small talk, Ms Prosecutor.”

Franziska leans against the wall. “I do not. But if we are stuck together by this smuggling ring investigation then we may as well know who we are working with.”

“I know who I’m working with,” Lang snarls. “Prosecutor von Karma. I know all about your father.”

“Yes, Gregory Edgeworth. He’s a remarkable defense attorney, wouldn’t you agree?” Lang’s face hardens. “Agent Shi-Long Lang, blood and names are not the only things that make a family - or a ‘pack’, if you wish to use your silly analogies.”

“Probably should’ve told that to Mr Ernest Amano before he called you up for help on basis of having been friends with your father.”

“Many people try to call me up on basis of having known Manfred von Karma. I like to help them, arrest and prosecute them if needed, and let them know, unequivocally, that I am not what they think my blood and name would make me be.”

“Hey, so uh, Franzy, I’ve got a weird thing to tell you.”

Franziska rubs her eyes, yawns, takes a moment to adjust to the fact that it is mid-afternoon and she just woke up and Larry was passed out on her couch because he’d stuck around the embassy waiting for her to be able to give him a ride and also said that he figured that Miles and Gregory wouldn’t forgive him if he just fucked off and abandoned her in the middle of that messy aftermath, but he’d also been asleep in a corner when she found him so she’s not sure how much that was a motivator. Not enough to keep him awake. “Weirder than the fact that you became a stage-show actor?”

“Hey, my savings were getting low, and while Misty’s still recovering I figured I should go out and have a job for a bit - anyway, um, so. Agent Lang.”

“What of the wolfman? I asked him to give me a call once he was out of surgery.” He’d laughed at her concern. She snapped at him, oh forgive her for being concerned about someone who was shot and had to get the bullet removed.

“Yeah, he’s, uh - so, funny story, you know my internet friend, the WolfDragon guy?”

Franziska thinks about the cat picture that she asked Lang about. That she thought Larry could have drawn. “Larry Butz, tell me that you are joking with me right now--”

“No and also I’d said I’d pick him up at the hospital but I don’t have a car but you do and--”

“So are all the characters in your fanfic based on real people, or just some of them?” Lang asks. The three of them have tucked themselves into a booth of a little diner, a B-movie werewolf on crutches, an artist in sweatpants and uncombed hair, and Franziska, who had also been too tired to wear any more than casual clothes and got heckled by Lang for how hilariously different she looks out of her professional wardrobe.

Larry slurps his coffee. “Yeah, honestly, most of them are based on people we know. If you meet them you’ll probably be able to guess pretty easily.”

“Ha, I bet. Dead ringer on Ms Viperpaw von Edgeworth here. Half-clan kit trying to figure out where she fits in between her blood relations and the people she’s grown up with?”

Franziska sips her tea loudly. Disconcerting, having someone know all about her because he read the fanfiction that she is a cat in. “You had better give me my warrior name soon,” she tells Larry.

#bullshit defense au #bullshit defense fic #roddy fanfics

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naruhoedoe · 4 years ago

Text

"What do you want?”

Miles' pen halted and he contemplated brushing the question off for a moment. "What do you mean, Wright?" he instead settled on an equally curt question. It only seemed fair.

"I mean, like..." Wright only sat still, his mouth open, as he tried to think an explanation for it. "Your goal. What do you really want?"

The emphasis on the want was unnecessary, but Miles acknowledged him with a wry scoff. "...justice, what else?" It seemed he had answered a bit too slowly, as Wright was on him--metaphorically, of course--in an instant.

"Really?"

"Certainly."

Wright stared through him with pursed lips, his urge to press forward obvious and obnoxious; as always. "No...perhaps, romantic wants?"

"So, we're purely professional best friends?" The defense attorney had started to get dangerously close to the prosecutor. "I think that's a little contradictory, Edgeworth."

"Nothing." The response was choked out, but a response nonetheless. "But you're sure?"

The former hummed questioningly before processing his demand. "Ooh... nah," Wright grinned, "Apollo and Athena have everything under control," he paused, "probably."

"Prob-" Miles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're too carefree. You should be more wary about your job, Wright. I'd rather you not lose it again."

"Hey, you can't joke about that!"

"I assure you, I'm not joking."

"You look quite cute in glasses, did you know that?"

"...P-Pardon?" Miles tried to wrap his head around what he said.

Phoenix sat there with a smile on his face, staring right at him. "Glasses. You look cute in them."

"...c-cute..?"

"Wh-What kind of n-nonsense..." Miles trailed off into a mumble, but he didn't pull away. He only averted his eyes for a moment.

"It's not nonsense at all, Miles."

"N-Ngh...You..."

"Gimme a kiss?" Wright tilted his head, leaning over the prosecutor's desk. "Please?" Desire gleamed in his eyes.

Despite his own joy, something still hurt. Attraction. Was it romantic? Did he only want his body?

"...please." His tone was so pathetic it hurt, but Edgeworth could deal. "Please, tell me it isn't just physical."

"What isn't just physical..?"

"Please don't just be physically attracted to me," Edgeworth practically begged. "I-I can't handle that kind of--"

Miles knew he meant it. And, god, he felt more for the man in front of him than he could verbalize. Relief relaxed his nerves and he pecked Phoenix on the lips again. "I...love you."

He must've been smirking a lot since Phoenix rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "I never knew you were such a sap," he mumbled sarcastically into his palm as he sat back down comfortably, "It reminds me of Larry and that's scary."

"I'm nothing like Larry," Miles retorted, "Unlike him, I have an IQ higher than room temperature."

#edgewright #wip #klavs-writing-tag #ace attorney

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irken-law-and-order · 5 years ago

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[Fret waited until Bix was fully asleep before he moved from his chair. It had been an exhausting week, and he was at the end of the line. He hopped down from the chair, adjusting his blanket over his shoulders and walking out of the room.]

[He wandered around the house for a bit, almost too tired to know what he was looking for, until he finally came across Joe, who’d been sleeping peacefully since they’d returned home. He didn’t even know what he was doing before he found himself crawling over Joe’s tail and underneath his wing, where he quickly fell asleep in a bundle of pink blanket and dragons' warmth.]

[Alv brought himself to the kitchen, being careful of Joe, picking out a new teacup and taking out his tea. He did what he did as usual in his tea making process, which included putting a lot of sugar in it. Once it was all finished he took a seat and started drinking it, he needed to wind down a bit before falling asleep, the past days haven’t been well or good.]

[Once he finished the tea and put the cup back, making sure to clean it as well, he already felt tired enough. He walked over to an open space on the couch and proceed to lie down and pass out.]

[When Fret finally woke in the morning, he found himself lying with his head across Joe’s stomach- the suddenly not scaly and much smaller stomach of the Irken Joe was before the curse. He sat up quickly, checking himself over to realize that he too had grown back to his normal size. It appeared the blanket had grown along with him- and had doubled in size. The curse had finally worn off.]

[Fret’s relief didn’t last long, however, as he hurriedly covered himself with his blanket again and tried to worm away with only one thought on his mind now; get his suit back. He was hoping it was clean at least by now, but he had to try to get it back on before Joe it Alv woke up.]

[It looks like Fret wouldn’t be getting his wish anytime soon however, seeing as Joe was already rising from his slumber soon after he started to worm away. Joe grumbled tiredly, raising his hand to rub his temple as he groggily attempted to regain awareness.]

[Immediately the first thing he noticed was a blurred image of Fret in what Joe could only describe was in a..worm like mode with the blanket??? Joe continued to rub his eyes furiously as he did a double take]

[Yep. That was Fret alright. Why did Fret look so much bigger now? Oh-OH!]

Fret...? What are you doing? Are you alright did it-did it wear off?

[Fret quickly froze up. He thought he had more time.]

Ahh.. Yes- it did- I was just-...

[He didn’t have an excuse.]

[He sat up and, keeping his blanket carefully draped to cover himself, turned to face Joe.]

I was heading to get my suit- since I’m back to normal and it should be clean by now... [He clears his throat, trying to switch topics.] Ah- so- how are you feeling?

I’m feeling fine..better even. What about you? Everything doing okay?

[Joe couldn’t help but feel uneasy somehow. Call it intuition, but something seemed..off about Fret]

Why do you have that blanket over you anyway?

I’m... Cold. Without my suit-

[It wasn’t a very convincing excuse (he was a terrible liar), since his suit did nothing to keep him warm, but he hoped it would do.]

[Oh now he knew he had caught Fret up in a lie]

You shouldn’t be cold-I kept the temperature warm all night. Besides-its not as if your suit is made to keep you all snug in the cold anyhow. Fret, what’s really going on?

[His voice suddenly became deathly serious, and Joes eyes locked onto Fret. His gaze never wavered off of him, not for a second.]

I-

[Fret had to mask his panic, so he swallowed it down, but he couldn’t come up with another excuse. He froze up, and only stammered out bits and pieces of words as he tried to figure out something to say. Nothing came to mind.]

Fret...

[Joe sighed, face softening as he slowly put a reassuring hand on Frets shoulder]

You don’t need to lie to me. I’m here for you okay? I want to know how I can help you. Don’t think you can’t ever talk with me.

So I’ll ask again..what’s really going on?

[After a moment of clear hesitation, Fret sighed and dropped the blanket from his shoulders. His black undersuit was translucent, and underneath the thin fabric, a brand was visibly burned into his chest. It wasn’t very old, only from a couple years prior, and he’d never mentioned it before. Even when it happened, he claimed he was sick and stayed out of work to keep it hidden and not an issue.]

[Fret said nothing, he just kept his eyes locked on the ground, looking guiltier than he’s ever looked before.]

[Joes eyes widened with shock as the blanket hit the ground and he saw what Fret had been hiding. His mind immediately raced with a million questions, but it was mostly overshadowed the sheer amount of guilt he felt for even pressing Fret in the first place]

[He wasn’t sure what to even say..but he started with the most obvious anyway]

Fret..When did this happen?

It-.. Not too long ago.. The Pok trial, a couple years back.. Pok wasn’t too happy with my failure.. so- well, she did have a reputation for this-..

[Fret didn’t look up, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to look Joe in the eyes. Perhaps it was fear of the expression he would see, or perhaps guilt from keeping something so big a secret from the one he trusted the most.]

I’m sorry- I should’ve.. I should’ve mentioned it- I-

Stop that.

[Joe’s voice suddenly became eerily firm and commanding. Very unlike his usual tone...]

I don’t ever want to hear you apologize for this, or anything like this, ever again. You did nothing wrong. Do you hear me? You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.

[His gaze softened]

Years..Irk Fret..does it still hurt you? Is that why..?

I... I have my good days and my bad days but-.. U- usually it’s okay, on the front..

[He was sugarcoating it, clearly, but he was almost cowering at this point, it was all he could say. Every word was difficult to get out.]

The front?

[His eyes visibly widened]

No don’t..Fret did she brand your back too??

[He began to walk closer towards Fret, trying to inspect the area where the burn had been left]

Fret please. Tell me.

I-I- Okay. Okay..

[Fret stepped back for a moment and reached for his pak. He hesitated before tugging it off, attempting to hide his pained expression and tremble as the pak detached from the tunnels. He set his pak on the ground and tugged the upper half of his bodysuit down enough to reveal his back, in which a burn had been melted just over top of his tunnels. It hadn’t even fully healed due to its limited contact with fresh air and the fact that Fret had been makeshift treating it for the couple years he had it. He hadn’t the money to buy anything to help.]

[Once again he said nothing, and was hunched over slightly almost in shame. He knew it was horrible to look at.]

[Joe had to cover his mouth with his hand in horror as he saw the burn mark. He felt awful for doing that-but nothing could have ever prepared for the sight he saw.]

[Just knowing a living Irken had done this, to their own kind no less, gave him a sickening feeling deep within his squeedlyspooch. Irkens might’ve been considered cruel by the rest of the universe (and make no mistake, they very much were) but something like this..it seemed unfathomable to Joe. Maybe if he had been an Elite solider he’d be desensitized to it. But Joe was an attorney; and right now he was faced with seeing the closest thing an Irken like him could ever consider as family showcase horrible brandings that he most certainly never deserved.]

[Scars that were given to him by some vengeful witch who Joe now hated to his very core. But his hatred for Pok was worthless when the damage to Fret had already been done.]

Fret...

[Joe hesitantly leaned forward, hands shaking as he saw the wound up close. It didn’t look like it had healed very well at all.]

F-Fret have you been trying to treat this yourself? You’ve been going through this alone? A-All this time? Fret you...

[Joe shook his head, trying to take deep breaths. He needed to collect himself.]

You can’t do this anymore. And you aren’t going to do this anymore, at least not alone. Fret-I’m going to help you in any way I can. No exceptions. You aren’t going to live like this anymore as long as I still stand. And I’m never gonna stop standing.

I- I- I should’ve told you- I don’t know why I didn’t- I- I think- I thought I could handle it-

[He was stammering, clearly at a loss for actual things to say, before he finally choked down his excuses, turned and fell on Joe in a hug. It was all he could do besides mumble out a very soft and very broken “thank you.” It’s hard to tell if he’s crying or just choking on his own words.]

[Joe gladly accepted the sudden hug, welcomed it even, as he wrapped his arms around Fret tightly. He gently began to rub Frets back, being careful not to touch the area where the brand was.]

You told me now Fret. That’s all that matters now. And I’m s-so..I’m so glad y-you did.

[He was struggling to keep himself from crying]

Now..c-come now..lets put your pak back on before it gets all cold.

[Bad joke. But he wanted to lighten the mood]

#invader zim ask blog #invader zim oc #invader zim #iz ocs #joe blathers #fret drones #long post #ic #((end of the curse event!!))#curse event!#irken law

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buckysforeverprincess · 6 years ago

Text

What Do You Want From Me? Ch.4

Lance Tucker X Reader

Words: 1544

Warnings: Language and Lance being an absolute dick.

A/N: This chapter is the aftermath. That’s all I have to say about that. enjoy!

Your alarm sounds notifying you it's time to get up. You don’t know why you even set it, you weren't asleep anyway. Everything in your mind kept playing on repeat, and you couldn't stop it long enough to get any rest.

Today, you were going to have to face him. He's still your boss and you have a job to do. Might as well just get it over with.

But how do you do your job now? You've crossed a line you can't get back. Will it be awkward? Of course, it will be, he's Lance Tucker, he makes everything awkward. You'll just have to put your big girl pants on and man up.

Maybe Lance will surprise you. Maybe he'll decide things with you would be worth a try, that it just wasn't about sex and he actually likes you. Nope, get those thoughts out of your head. Lance likes no one…only himself. You’d better remember that when you head to his house today.

Getting up to shower you check your phone. You see the text from the unknown number but decide to put off a reply. There's was another text from Claire, and a phone call from Lance's mom. Looks like she even left you a voicemail to respond to. You hate being the liaison between mother and son.

You feel disappointed when you don't see anything from the man himself. No text, no call, nothing. Why would there wouldn't be? This was Lance. You weren't ever a first thought and would never be a second.

You got ready and left the house. The drive to Lance’s house was long, but not long enough to calm your nerves. Even your usual playlist didn't help, and you just couldn't shake the feeling of anxiousness inside you.

“Fuck my life!!” Screaming out to no one and everyone at the same time. There was no way you were going to make it through this. Where's some fucking xanax when you needed it?

The time to dwell on what could happen was over, as you pulled up to his house and parked the car. You took a moment to gather your thoughts and prepare yourself to see the man you just had sex with not so long ago. Taking a deep breath, you exited your car and walked up to the kitchen door ready to face the music.

It was seven in the morning and Lance was normally up waiting for you to prepare his shake. What you didn't expect was the man to be sitting in the same place he left you yesterday, eating breakfast he had made by his own volition. This was definitely a change in behavior for him.

“Morning.” You shut the door and slowly walk up to the island.

“Hi.” Lance is short, and only glances up at you long enough to say the word.

“No shake? Sure you can spare the calories?” You try to joke with him to break the tension.

“I'm fine.” He answers plainly. “I have a meeting with my agent at nine.” Lance never looks up at you and continues to eat his toast.

“Oh! Well, you also have a meeting with your attorney at eleven.” The awkwardness never leaving the room. “Before I forget, your mom called again. She'd like you to call her.”

“Tell her I'm busy.” Lance has finished his food and gets up from the island.

“You're always busy, and she's your mom. I can't keep making excuses forever. Talk to her.”

Lance finally looks at you, lips tight and you can see the anger on his face. “You'll tell her whatever the fuck I want you to tell her, that's what the fuck I pay you for! Unless you'd like me to find someone else to do your job?”

You stand there in shock. This is a whole new Lance Tucker. In the three years you've worked for him he's never once talked to you like that. Obviously, you had no idea this Lance even existed.

“What the fuck Lance? What is with you today?” You give him a quizzical look.

“Nothing's with me today. I expect you to do the job I'm paying you for not tell me how to live my life!”

Oh no! This wasn't working for you. You expected the events of yesterday would change things between you. What you didn't expect was a whole new level of cruel asshat Lance, who clearly isn't above throwing you out with the rest of the trash.

“What happened?”

Lance has crossed his arms readying for a fight. “What happened,” he chuckles, “what happened is you obviously think that one good fucking, and you can suddenly tell me what I need to do with my life!”

“What are you even talking about? How am I telling you what to do?” You yell back, rage starting to build inside you.

“You think I need to talk to my mother…well I don't! The last thing I need is some woman having an opinion on my life or trying to control me. I run my life. Not you, not her, me!”

You stare at him, wanting to say something but nothing comes out. “Have anything else you'd like to say, baby girl?” Lance is glaring at you, and you're drawing a blank. Everything about him has thrown you off. You can't process what he's saying and the change in his mood. You’re not sure if anything you say will help whatever it is that’s broken.

“How dare you!” You have no idea where the words come from, but you feel as though a switch went off in your head.

“Excuse me?” He says, like you've just offended the great Lance Tucker.

“How dare you speak to me like that…I am not one of your tramps you bring home!”

Lance is laughing at you now. Your face red and your blood boiling, and he's just laughing at you like you've told the world's funniest joke.

“Oh sweetheart, did you catch feelings? Did you think you'd be the one to change Lance Tucker? Think you were special? You're not! You were average at best. Guess that's why no man has touched you in years. My guess is they found out what a lousy lay you were and went elsewhere. Trust me, I did you a favor!”

His words hit you hard. ‘Average’, ‘lousy lay’, ‘favor’. Is that how he saw you? Were you average in everything you did? Is that why you continued to stay by his side as his whipping post because you were just average? And seriously, did he think you were that desperate for sex that you needed him to do you a ‘favor’? This was too much for you to take and you needed out right fucking now.

You pulled out your phone and brought up his schedule for the rest of the week. You sent a copy to him and his agent, so there could be no blame and excuses. A decision would need to be made when you cleared your head about the future of employment with Lance.

“I'm due for some vacation time. I haven't taken any in two and a half years, and I think it's long overdue. When I get back, we'll talk about finding a replacement PA that would be more suited to your needs.” You remained calm the entire time and didn't show Lance an ounce of weakness.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” He's walking towards you, almost a dead repeat of yesterday, and there's no way you're letting this man anywhere near you.

“Don't…,” you put your hand out in front of you, “stay the fuck right there. I don't want you any closer to me.”

Lance stays where he's at and doesn't say a word. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. “I'm leaving now. Your agent has your schedule, so please refrain from calling me. I'll be back when I'm ready, but if you find someone before I get back, please have your agent let me know.”

You open your eyes and see Lance standing stone faced. He has nothing more to say and neither do you. Too much has been done and said already, and there was no going back.

You decided it was better to just leave then say anything else that could cause potential problems. So that's what you did. You turned around not giving Lance another look and headed for the door.

Stopping yourself before you walked out, you gave him one last opportunity to say something, but nothing came. It was painfully obvious Lance thought very little of you and you meant shit to him. With a heavy sigh you walked out the door and ended your life as Lance Tucker bitch.

Getting into your car you pulled out your phone to respond to the text you received yesterday. ‘Sorry for the delayed response, my boss keeps me busy! I'd love to meet and talk. Are you free for coffee at all this week?’

You received an immediate reply: Thank god! I thought you changed your mind. Coffee sounds great, is tomorrow good? Say 10:30? You pick the place.

As you responded to the message there was one thought in your mind…Fuck off Lance…hello Jase!

#lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance the fucker tucker #lance tucker fanfiction #the bronze #the bronze au #pa!reader

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mirarelle · 5 years ago

Text

Two years ago today was the start of the longest two weeks of my life, yet also the start of the shortest two years.

To think that it’s been that long, feels impossible; because almost every waking moment since, I haven’t been able to get it to leave my mind. It plays on repeat in my head, and I haven’t found a way yet to move on.

My mother’s death took something from me. My peace of mind, or maybe it took all the strength I truly had left, because asking anyone who knew me then who’s still with me now, knows I am not the same. During that time, I barely knew what to do with myself, and time barely moved, like it was a drawn out torture designed just for me, as selfish as that sounds.

The only way I knew how to cope with any of it, and measure the passage of time, was to write it all down. Not every day had a lot, but it’s what I could get myself to put down in words in a time when I could barely form any.

Some may say it’s attention seeking, some may think it’s a dig at some people mentioned. But for me it’s to help show the feelings that have been sitting bottled up for far too long.

~*~20th 8am

It’s all so surreal. Like none of this is really happening. I see her there, but she’s not my mom. There are similarities; the same slender nose, her teeth are a familiar snaggle, the same blonde hair. But the pallor of her skin, the gaunt deathly pale of it, it’s aged her. She looks too close to death to be the lively woman I knew.

The doctors keep speaking in ‘ifs’ and ‘whens’, not really saying anything that holds ground, because they can’t say for certain that anything good or bad will happen. They don’t want to make promises they can’t keep. Little do they know that what they are saying, therefore, can’t ease me.

I need a definitive answer, I need something to hold on to. All I can do is pace, because I don’t know what will happen, and unlike some, I cannot hold onto the power of prayer to get me by. I’m depending on these doctors with no answers to make my mother well, not ‘God’. No, I can’t justify prayer when I feel like that being is not the cause or the relief of the pain and suffering my little bubble of the world is dealing with. Doctors however, they are solid, tangible, and doing everything they can to help my mother through this.

It’s strange to me that in this time, even though I’m here supporting her, that even now my mind keeps wandering to the negatives. Like it’s searching for a reason to not care that she’s like this, when judging by the tears and the fear I am feeling, I undeniably do. But I keep reminding myself of the last incident I had in a hospital involving my mother. I was pregnant with Alice, induced and ready to burst, but being told that I would need a C section. At the news and while I was being prepped to go in, my mother who had been there most of the day, left. She “didn’t want to see her daughter cut up like that”, so she just left me. I, on the verge of going into a frightening operation I really didn’t want to get but had no choice in the matter; who wanted and needed the support, lay abandoned.

I’d completely forgotten the event over time, but for some reason as I sat with her the first time yesterday, it came to me. I didn’t understand it. I don’t understand it. Right alongside the fear that while I’m sitting there it will turn into the first major scene that I wrote with Madison. Begging nurses and doctors to do something, to save her mom, like it’s a cruel joke to actually go through the emotions I faked so well. Like this is my fault for killing off the mother of a character I claimed to have modeled after myself. A woman who was a seamstress, not so unlike my own mother. A woman the daughter admired beyond all others.

In my awkward sense of guilt, I feel like this is my fault even when I know it’s not. I didn’t put a tumor in my mother’s lungs. But how similar the two scenes are playing out, I can’t help it.

~*~ 20th 12:40pm

The Doctor came to talk to me around noon. He says to expect the worst, as if I hadn’t already mulled it over a million times with every other possible outcome. He called me pragmatic, the way I was able to keep a calm mind and sensible standpoint on the whole thing, meanwhile I’m internally berating myself for sounding like a cold, heartless bitch.

And I finally found out why every nurse and doctor was skirting my question of how long she’d gone without a pulse. I’d asked more than once, but they could never give me a number.

20. 20 minutes. It’s practically a death sentence. The brain is far away, and a loss of blood, and a weaker than required heartbeat... that is a recipe for brain damage.

I hate thinking it. I hate knowing it. I hate ever having heard the numbers or the knowledge so I could remain blissfully hopeful and be more like everyone else.

~*~ 20th, 3pm

I'm starting to understand zombie movies better with all of this. Why it's so hard to shoot a loved one who's turned. It's easy to yell at the screen that the character is being stupid, but that's because we don't put ourselves in their shoes. Because you still see them, even if they aren't the same anymore, there is always the hope that they will be them again, what if they could get better? What if there’s a change and I'm pulling the trigger too soon? What if I'm forced to make that decision with my mom?... Could I pull the trigger?

Because as I sit here staring at this woman, realizing she might not be the same woman I knew last week, possibly barely human at all; I see my mother, and think she might just wake up and just start carrying on a conversation with me out of the blue like nothing ever happened. What I wouldn’t give for that to be possible… because I don't think I have the strength to do what would be necessary...

~*~20th 10pm

Since the incident, they had kept my mother on ice, letting her body heal while keeping her preserved I guess. But today they had been letting her warm up to see how her organs could handle it, if they could function properly at a regular temperature, to discover that she had a fever and immediately started to cool her again. They keep throwing numbers out there for a length of time, but the reality is that they don't know anymore than we do.

As I was coming to see her a final time before exhaustion could claim me, the phone happened to ring at the nurse's station. My Aunt Dawn whom I've never even really met spoke to me. I don't know the full details of the feud, but she was beside herself with grief I didn't expect from a woman who has never been in my mother's life for the entirety of my being. I didn’t know what to say to her except to explain.

The more the doctors come to me with the decisions and information, the more I can feel the stiffness in my family. Like I chose for this to happen or something. I’m not any more pleased I’m going through this experience than they are, but I’m doing it to the best of my ability. Taking it as it hits me, even if each impact feels like it’s chipping away at me, and their backhanded comments only make it worse.

Maybe if we find a will, it has someone else mentioned as power of attorney, maybe then they’ll be happy.

~*~21st 11am

They said that things are looking good, vitals are up. They won’t be taking her out of sedation until sometime between tonight and tomorrow, so I’m going to go home and take a much needed rest. I feel hollow. This whole experience is draining in a way I never thought I could have felt before.

~*~21st 4pm

This is so stupid. I’m waiting, pacing again, for John to come and get me because low and behold, they changed their damn minds and started bringing her out of sedation while I was at home sleeping. Why can’t they keep their fucking stories straight? Seriously. I feel like I’m going to miss her because they’re going to make a judgement call at 5 and I don’t know if John can make it here and back on time. I feel so helpless and trapped at their mercy. I knew I should have stayed.

~*~21st 5:30pm

We made it to her, but she wasn’t really all there. Her eyes kept rolling back into her head and she was sucking on her tube. Seeing her like this scares me, even knowing this isn’t her fully out of sedation, but seeing her weak and frail and dependent on others is a strange and very wrong sensation. My mother is strong and as independent as they come… Seeing her so small and helpless… It puts an ache in me that I can’t even describe.

~*~21st 10:30pm

We just missed her, apparently coherent, answering questions with nods, squeezing fingers and wiggling toes on cue. But Joey deserved something on his birthday, and they say they are trying again in the morning anyways. I get to go home again and spend some time with Josh. I feel like I haven’t seen him or Alice in weeks, yet it’s only been a few short days of this life of practically living at the hospital. I can’t tell Alice what’s happening, and I know if I even start to try to tell her I’ll lose myself. I don’t want her to worry about me, and I don’t need to bog her down if this all ends better than my mind keeps trying to tell me it will.

~*~22nd 8:30 am

My mom saw me. The feeling of that is amazing, yet at the same time I feel like she didn't know who I was. Maybe I was just something for her to focus on. We noticed we were riling her up and decided it was best we let her be, the nurses saying they were going to try taking the breathing tube out soon anyways, then let the doctor do his rounds. It usually ends at 11:30ish anyways, so we’ll come back later.

~*~22nd 12pm

They’ve sedated her again. Reason? Because despite all the positive signs we thought we saw earlier, they were misconstrued. Yes, she has basic motor functions, but where they are looking for rational comprehension, the nurses were met with agitation and animalistic rage, that of someone whose brain has degenerated… Possibly beyond repair. They say they want to give her time to heal, but the reality might just be that that thrashing, wild, unresponsive being might be all we have left of her. And I don’t think I can handle that.

~*~23rd 1pm

The worst news yet came today. Apparently my mother is suffering more than we knew. We learned that she has pneumonia in both of her lungs, her iv got infected and she now has sepsis, and the cherry on top: the tumour is a result of stage 3 lung cancer. All of that, and we still don't know what the limit of her brain function is yet. And treating the cancer? Near impossible. Due to location. Inoperable. Due to sepsis. No chemo. And radiation is merely a bandaid. And if she can't even breathe on her own, there's no point in trying…

Everything feels like it’s crashing down around me. With every new discovery I become more buried, and it’s suffocating me. I keep holing it up in myself other than to write it here, but I don’t know how to show it. I feel like I have to keep going, keep pushing it down because I’m the one that the decisions fall to. I have to show to everyone that I can handle this, but I really don’t know how much longer I can.

~*~24th 2am

Everyone keeps calling me strong, but I don't feel strong, I feel like a hack. I put on this mask of cold indifference but inside I'm a scared little girl who's afraid to lose her mother.

~*~24th 12pm

My family ganged up on me. They surrounded me like a pack of starving wolves would to vulnerable prey.

Pat has been my strength in all of this, my backbone, helping me get through things that nobody else wanted to step up and do. Things like making sure my mom’s bills got paid, and finding out about her disability checks. Things nobody wanted to accept needed to happen. Everyone thought my mom was going to walk out of the hospital the moment she showed signs of waking, not accepting the bigger picture.

Even if my mom had woken up, and started breathing on her own after three days, she still would have remained hospitalized. She has cancer. A full blown lung tumour. Let alone the part where her heart gave out. They would keep her around for observation while they looked into everything. But she wouldn’t be able to handle the stress of her finances, it would lean on someone else anyways.

But facts are, she’s not awake and her benefits run out next Monday. These are things that need to be taken care of now.

But no, they attack me, say I’m not focusing enough on my mom. But this is me focusing on my mom. This is me finding an outlet for the grief. Instead of standing around doing nothing, waiting for answers, I am finding goals that help her in whatever state she is or will be when this is all over.

And on top of that, they want to sever me from my support. They don’t want the one person giving a shit about me and understanding me in this to be around anymore. They think they know what’s best for me, but they don’t even know me.

I was so distraught by what they were doing that when I even started to give in just to make the pain of it stop, and my Aunt came at me for a hug, I squealed in anguish and crumpled in on myself yelling at her not to touch me. I was racked with fear and trembled anxiously for 5-10 minutes on the floor, hiding behind my chair.

I hate what this stress is doing to my sanity. I don’t feel real anymore. I don’t feel like a human roaming these halls. It’s becoming a blur of nothing and hopelessness with every unanswered question. Even when I sleep, I feel nothing, and like it’s made no difference when I wake.

~*~25th 1pm

They started bringing her off sedation again, and now it’s just a waiting game. I’m going to stay through the night so if she wakes, she won’t be alone.

Carolann and Auntie Darla came in today and my cousin and I finally started on my mother’s nails. It’s nice to see them clean and blood free for the first time since this began. We tried to get some colour on there, but it didn’t dry fast enough and got ruined by nurses moving her around. Maybe I’ll try again later. It feels wrong that they aren’t work ready and vibrant how she always kept them.

~*~26th 12:30am

I went for a walk around the hospital to ease my troubled mind, that and they were changing her bedding for her so we were kicked out.

I found a meditation circle around the side of the building with a small stone in the center. It had the word hope painted on it in yellow over a half sun.

I sat there for over an hour listening to music fighting back tears just trying to wrap my head around it all. It was peaceful where my mind wasn't. If all the noise in my head could have filled the silent night, it would have been deafening.

~*~26th 3:30am

I just switched out with John. I can’t keep my eyes open much longer. I hope I don’t miss her.

~*~27th 11am

Every day there is a small bazaar that pops up at the hospital, different knick knacks and jewelry. As if buying these random things will help us feel better somehow. I bought a ring, thinking of mom. I feel bad that I've bought this ring as a token to remember her by. To remind myself of this moment, of this suffering, so I can look at it and be forever reminded of what's taking place right now. But I feel like I need it, and I hate that that's where my mind is going when she's right upstairs. But truth be told, I know. I know that this only ends one way: badly.

~*~28th 8:45am

She's gone.

I don't feel human. I feel empty. Hollow. Listless. And yet I'm a ball of unrelenting energy unable to stop moving, fidgeting, calling, texting, needing that thing to keep me from thinking, from staying in the moment and being washed away by the tears that would surely drown me.

I felt like before, I was racing time, but now I feel like I'm swimming against the tide trying to sweep me away from her, but the water is too strong, and I can’t fight it anymore.

~*~28th 3pm - Facebook Post

For those who knew, my mother has been battling an unknown illness for a few months now. A week ago she entered St. Catherine's General for a routine test, and today, she is gone.

I don't even know where to begin in describing how I feel, how much I feel the loss. Only that I feel stripped of a major part of myself. Despite everything we put each other through, she was my mother. She was a main influence in everything I do and everything I am, and I will miss her every day.

~*~ Oct 3rd, 2017 - 2pm - My Eulogy

Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love that you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go. - Jamie Anderson

Over the past two weeks, that quote couldn’t have rung truer in me. Sitting next to my mom feeling everything welling in me, and nowhere for it to go. Where everyone else’s feelings poured from them, special times to reminisce, memories once thought forgotten, even just a daily report to give to keep from silence, I could never find the words. And now that I finally have them, they sit heavy with regret in my chest.

For every whispered ‘goodbye’, was a masked ‘don’t leave me’, for every ‘I love you’, ‘I need you’, and for every moment of stunned silence were a thousand things I wish I’d said in its place.

To say she will be missed would be a lie. Because, the depth of which she touched people’s lives goes so much deeper. She will be mourned, and at times ached for with so much severity we can no longer draw in a breath to fill the void that she has left in us.

Over time, the pain may lessen, breathing come easier, and with each other we can fill the void again. Tell her stories, remember her jokes, and share the times that made her who she was to us.

So I will not miss her, but will look for her, and search her out in all of you, piece by piece.

~*~

This was more than difficult to post. Two years of indecision. Two years of pain I kept to myself until it nearly drove me mad. Everything written was as it happened and as I felt it, and kept locked in a google document I never thought I would let see the light of day.

#grief #loss #death #sad

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furimmerich · 4 years ago

Text

"What do you want?"

Miles' pen halted and he contemplated brushing the question off for a moment. "What do you mean, Wright?" he instead settled on an equally curt question. It only seemed fair.

"I mean, like..." Wright only sat still, his mouth open, as he tried to think an explanation for it. "Your goal. What do you really want?"

"Really?"

"Certainly."

Wright stared through him with pursed lips, his urge to press forward obvious and obnoxious; as always. "No...perhaps, romantic wants?"

"So, we're purely professional best friends?" The defense attorney had started to get dangerously close to the prosecutor. "I think that's a little contradictory, Edgeworth."

"Nothing." The response was choked out, but a response nonetheless. "But you're sure?"

The former hummed questioningly before processing his demand. "Ooh... nah," Wright grinned, "Apollo and Athena have everything under control," he paused, "probably."

"Prob-" Miles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're too carefree. You should be more wary about your job, Wright. I'd rather you not lose it again."

"Hey, you can't joke about that!"

"I assure you, I'm not joking."

"You look quite cute in glasses, did you know that?"

"...P-Pardon?" Miles tried to wrap his head around what he said.

Phoenix sat there with a smile on his face, staring right at him. "Glasses. You look cute in them."

"...c-cute..?"

"Wh-What kind of n-nonsense..." Miles trailed off into a mumble, but he didn't pull away. He only averted his eyes for a moment.

"It's not nonsense at all, Miles."

"N-Ngh...You..."

"Gimme a kiss?" Wright tilted his head, leaning over the prosecutor's desk. "Please?" Desire gleamed in his eyes.

Despite his own joy, something still hurt. Attraction. Was it romantic? Did he only want his body?

"...please." His tone was so pathetic it hurt, but Edgeworth could deal. "Please, tell me it isn't just physical."

"What isn't just physical..?"

"Please don't just be physically attracted to me," Edgeworth practically begged. "I-I can't handle that kind of--"

Miles knew he meant it. And, god, he felt more for the man in front of him than he could verbalize. Relief relaxed his nerves and he pecked Phoenix on the lips again. "I...love you."

The other man chuckled, a smirk on his face. "I know. You're a bad liar." Though his smirk wasn't mean. Not mean like von Karma's when Miles messed up, or like Gant's when he had presented forged evidence. It was a nice smirk, because it was Phoenix.

He must've been smirking a lot since Phoenix rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "I never knew you were such a sap," he mumbled into his palm as he sat back down, "It reminds me of Larry and that's scary."

"I'm nothing like Larry," Miles retorted, "Unlike him, I have an IQ above than room temperature." The former laughed and Miles couldn't help but relish in the fact that he made him laugh.

"Cut the guy some slack, he's just...uh..."

"He's the complete opposite embodiment of someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"...kinda. But he's still our friend."

Edgeworth ignored the faint spark of displeasure in his chest, pressing the edge of his pen into his finger. "Indeed."

After a few moments of silence, Phoenix allowed himself to stare, his point of interest being, obviously, Miles. He figured it wasn't inappropriate, considering what had just been passed between the two of them. Over two decades of holding out his feelings, and, finally... A small grin played out on his face. It didn't go unnoticed by the perceptive man across from him.

"What're you smiling about?" Edgeworth inquired, shuffling around files, though he'd guessed that the prosecutor had long since given up his full attention to the paperwork.

"I'm just happy, that's all," Wright hummed. When the former perked an eyebrow, the latter rolled his eyes, "I just had my first kiss, let me sap over it."

And, apparently, that was enough to surprise Miles. "First kiss?" he echoed. A thoughtful look flashed across his face for a second.

It'd been a retort in the spur of the moment, so Nick hadn't really thought about it. Heat slightly rose to his cheeks. "Yeah. First. You better be honored."

The magenta-clad man smirked in response. "Well then. That certainly does please me." He gazed over him for a moment, a certain gleam in his eyes that sent a shiver down Phoenix's spine. Something in his voice stood out, too. "Glad to know I was your first, darling."

Possessiveness, that's what it was.

If he was being honest, Phoenix didn't mind. In fact, it was kind of arousing.

Blushing at his own dirty thoughts, he mustered a reflection of his partner's smug expression. "Want another one for good measure?" he offered slyly. And it would've been a successful cover up of embarassment had he not went to prop his head up on his elbow, missing the edge of the desk, and promptly slamming his nose into the wood. "...ow."

Miles chuckled. "Hm. Let's move somewhere more...comfortable for that, shall we?" He gestured for Wright to get up as he did the same. Sliding from behind his desk, he took the defense attorney's hand and guided him to the sofa that sat perpendicular.

Wright found himself flushing red at the implications behind his words.

As he went to take a place besides where Edgeworth had sat, he was stopped by a hand on his waist, which did not help the blood flowing to his face. "Uh- Er- E-Edgeworth?" There was definitely a minor voice crack in there.

"Come now, Wright, you wanted another kiss, did you not?" Edgeworth kept his gaze locked on him and he slowly pulled Wright onto his lap. "I'd say it's easier this way. Any objections?"

Phoenix would've been damned had he turned down the golden opportunity. "The defense concurs," he managed, swallowing thickly.

"Let us continue the proceedings, then." The prosecutor's hand slowly lowered to the former's thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

Phoenix let out an embarassing noise. "M-Miles!" he tried to scold, but, god, did he melt into his hand. It was just the perfect distance away from somewhere else incredibly vital that it gave him both a shock of pleasure and the want for more.

"Yes?" Miles gazed at him innocently, but his hand slowly snaking further towards Phoenix's crotch betrayed his look. "Something the matter, darling?"

Wright opened his mouth to speak, but once he felt himself being gently palmed he couldn't form sentences. He only hummed lowly, relishing the partial friction. "You...nnh..."

All the while, the chief prosecutor kept his unknowing façade. "I cannot hear you if you mumble, Wright," he smiled, as if he wasn't the one reducing the other attorney to a blushing, muttering mess with his own hand.

"You-" Phoenix gasped as he just barely resisted from thrusting his hips forward in desperation for more. "-are a bad liar." Miles' smirk deepened.

"And yet you weren't able to find out my truth." His hand stopped. Fuck.

Lightly panting, the man stared at him with lidded eyes. Nine psyche-locks had appeared earlier when Phoenix inquired him about it. It was less than surprising. "Well, let me ask you again," he paused, gathering his breath. "What do you want?"

Edgeworth was much more prepared for the question now, finally looking him in the eye while he answered. "You. I want you to be mine and no one else's, in heart, soul, and body." He cupped his face, rubbing his thumb against the outline of his cheek.

The sentiment touched his heart, and he smiled lop-sidedly, still a little pleasure drunk. "Well." Phoenix leaned into his touch. "I'm all yours, Mi."

"Would you like that kiss, now?"

"Yes. Please."

Without waiting, the defense attorney smashed his lips into the prosecutor's, a shiver running through his nerves as the latter reciprocated with just as much hunger. Everything felt so good and right and nice, and he was getting too warm-

Phoenix pulled away after a heartbeat to mutter 'jacket' as comprehensibly as he could. Thankfully, Miles got the memo and carefully slid the blue jacket off. The former relished the cooler air that seeped into his dress shirt, but he still had too many layers for comfort. "Are-Are we safe in here? N-No one's gonna...?"

"The door's locked," Edgeworth responded without missing a beat. He'd started to trail kisses down Phoenix's jawline. "I'm rarely disturbed." His lips met the attorney's throat and oh, god, Phoenix loved it. "We'll be fine."

Wright shakily hummed in response, all his senses being narrowed down to where Edgeworth touched. All his competence had been reduced to nothing as he desperately tried to balance. "Mi- Hah~"

"Say my name more, my darling."

Phoenix obliged happily, breathily repeating 'Miles.' It seemed to drive the other man past his self-control. The attorney's waistcoat was all but dragged off, his under shirt following. The former now attacked his skin with bites and the latter couldn't keep his wits about him. "Mi- Oh, fuck-"

"Language, Phoenix," the more dominant man chastised, his breath brushing against Wright's ear, his fingers lightly circling the rings around his nipples. A moan escaped from the latter, the first to have been unstifled.

"G-God- Miles~" Nick dragged out. He'd long last lost his ability to sit straight, just barely propping himself up. "Please-"

The prosecutor caught his gaze. "Please, what?"

"Ravage me."

Well.

It was an unexpected reaction, to say the least, though not unwelcome.

Miles made haste to uncover more of Phoenix's body--deftly undoing his belt and working down those blue jeans. It proved quite difficult when he realised the man was in such a position that prevented them from slipping past his hips. Hm. He hadn't really wanted to change their position either.

A brief, enticing thought popped into Edgeworth's head, and he thought on it for a moment.

"Phoenix, can you stand?" To that, Phoenix nodded breathlessly. "Good. Stand."

Watching his darling comply eagerly filled him with a carnal instinct. "Jeans. Off, now."

Wright was left in his boxers, allowing Edgeworth a near full view of his body. Unsurprisingly, the man was quite toned, though you'd never be able to tell under the suit. His eyes trailed down to his hips.

Seeing how hard the defense attorney was made him chuckle, though he wasn't much better himself.

Miles figured he'd admired him long enough. There would be a more "personal examination" soon, after all. He held out his finger, beckoning Phoenix back onto his lap. "Are you sure you want me to 'ravage you'?" he murmured, exhaling slowly at the friction between Phoenix's length and his own. "I may not be able to hold back."

"It's been decades of miscommunication, I sure as hell hope you don't hold back," Wright shot him a stern look, which would've been somewhat intimidating, had he not been all but naked.

"Hm, point taken," the chief prosecutor shrugged slightly, now tracing the waistband of the former's briefs to his back, taking in the slight arches of his spine. Slipping in his hand, it didn't take much for him to pass over Phoenix's ass. Miles relished the gasp and hum that came from Phoenix as he lightly massaged and groped him.

He suddenly paused, realising something. A problem. Miles sighed quietly; Not without the attentive defense attorney noticing, though. "Wh-What is it?"

"Lube. We have none. I mean, we can continue, but the strain for you..."

He heard Phoenix swear under his breath and mutter something else, scratching his chin like he always did when thinking. "...do you have any lotion here?"

"Lotion? Well..." A glance around the office confirmed it. "No."

"Hm." Wright didn't give up, though. He was quite single-minded. "Gimme your hand. Don't ask questions, don't call me gross, it's perfectly acceptable." Why he'd ever need his hand at this moment was beyond the prosecutor; He offered his other hand nevertheless.

Miles didn't know what he expected, but it sure as hell wasn't Phoenix slipping three of his digits into his mouth.

In retrospect, it should've been revolting, yet he couldn't be more turned on. There was something about how the former's tongue ran along his fingers. Something about how his eyebrows arched up, his eyes fluttered shut. Apparently Phoenix Wright could make anything look attractive as hell.

Even the way Phoenix popped off, a wet noise barely there, with a thin string of saliva still connecting from his lips to the tips of Miles' fingers-

Ah, he'd started overanalyzing things again. Edgeworth shook his head, staring at his fingers. "Saliva as lube. I guess that works."

Wright lit up positively. "Okay, now, please, pleaseplease-" he basically guided his lover's hand back to his ass. More quiet pleads fell from his mouth in anticipation. Miles found it adorable.

Now having some way of entering easier, Miles pushed his first digit into the defense attorney's entrance.The latter moaned quietly.

He made sure to go slow, just incase it still stung, which was inevitable. He paid quiet attention to the man's reactions, though.

If Phoenix was in any pain, he didn't seem to show it.

Feeling reassured, he carefully added another.

Phoenix bit down on his lip, his body arching against Miles' fingers. "Oh, god~ Yes~"

Edgeworth smirked and leaned forward to steal his lips in a kiss, meanwhile pushing in the last finger. Wright's moan in his mouth was immaculate.

The shorter of the two pulled away, panting heavily. "Is-Isn't it...ready..."

"Maybe." Miles was then suddenly aware of the suffocating layers of his own clothes. He'd been so occupied on Phoenix's pleasure to focus on his own. He sighed, his pants feeling especially tight.

He'd taken out his fingers when he was sure Phoenix was stretched enough- and, god, the sight of the panting, blushing, moaning mess of a man in front of him would be burned into his memory for a while.

#ace attorney #edgewright #narumitsu #wrightworth #klavs writing tag #smut #uhhh Yeah

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