#and he was like I couldn’t read the watermark :( you can’t be mean :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucy-sky · 2 years ago

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Skulls and Roses (tattoo master!Griff x f!Reader)

Filthy Friday prompts: porn without plot (or with minor plot idk); hookup; rough

Getting your tattoo dedicated to your ex replaced by a new one can be extremely liberating.

Warnings: casual sex (protected!) - I don’t need to explain you that having sex with someone you don’t really know can be dangerous, right? Please be careful in real life :)

Words: 1936; gif by me (from an older gifset when I didn’t use the watermark)

AO3 link if you prefer reading there

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart, customer’s always right… but why not simply remove that shit?”

“Because I don’t want to just get rid of it. I want to have something beautiful instead,” you explain, turning the pages of the album filled with tattoo design options. “And please, don’t call me sweetheart. Ever.”

The story is as old as the world. You were in love, he was an asshole. You thought it’s gonna last, but it didn’t. The love is gone, and the only reminder of a man who broke your heart are these stupid fancy letters - his initials, tattooed on your forearm. At first you wanted to leave this evidence of your stupidity as a warning to not repeat your mistakes again, but you simply couldn’t bear seeing them any longer. You want to move on after all. That’s what brought you here, to a place down the street called “Griff’s Tattoos”.

“Alright, alright easy there,” the master raises his hands at your aggressive tone. “Told ya, the customer’s always right. But you see, I ain’t got no… butterflies, or flowers, or unicorns or something like that in here, I’m afraid.”

“Who says I want butterflies or unicorns?” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “I might not look super hardcore, but you don’t know me, mister…”

“It’s Griff, you can just call me that,” the man gestures at the “Griff’s Tattoos” sign on the wall. “And yeah, you’re right, I don’t-”

“Hey, how about that?” you interrupted him as you finally found something of your taste.

“Really? You want that?” Griff raises his eyebrows as you point at the picture. There’s a skull with three red roses, seemingly growing out of it.

“Yeah, I think this one is great. The skull means that the old love is dead, and the roses mean that something beautiful can still grow in its place,” you reply with a shrug.

“Okay, uh… That makes sense, I guess. Didn’t think of any of this while drawing it though,” he lets out a chuckle.

“You could think of a meaning for some of your tattoo designs to sell them to the customers.”

“Yeah, maybe. My own tattoos don’t have much meaning at all, I just make up different stories ‘bout ‘em to impress the girls,” he laughs.

“Nice,” you sigh under your breath, trying not to roll your eyes again. Yet another asshole in your life, apparently. Thank god you’re only his customer, and nothing more than that.

“So, if you made up your mind, let’s get to it,” he smiles, gesturing at his workplace.

“Yep, let’s get to it.”

Maybe that Griff really is an asshole, who knows? But in fact, he manages to make you laugh a few times while he’s working, and you really appreciate that. Conversation distracts you from the pain, plus this man… You have to admit there’s something attractive about him, despite anything. You watch his focused face while he’s working, the crease of his eyebrows, and in a way he looks quite intimidating, but when he smiles, he suddenly looks so different. As if his features soften, and those wrinkles at the corners of his eyes are kind of… Cute? And his gruff voice and deep dark eyes… Damn, you can’t be serious, thinking of him like that. On the other hand - you’re a single woman now, free from a long and actually pretty toxic relationship. You don’t have to jump into another one, but a bit of flirting never hurt nobody. Flirting makes you feel confident, and for the first time in what feels like ages you’re simply enjoying it without feeling any sort of guilt. And honestly? You love this feeling.

“There ya go,” he says proudly when the work is finished. “You like it?”

“Yeah, that’s… Really good!” your reply is honest - you really think the new tattoo is great. The goddamn initials are now perfectly covered with a fresh layer of ink, and even if the tattoo is a bit too bigger than you intended to get at first, you still are satisfied. “I love it.”

“Good to know,” Griff nods, his fingers brushing against your arm with unexpected gentleness. “Did my best to save the girl in trouble.”

“Please!” you scoff, “I think you’re flattering yourself.”

“Modesty’s not my thing,” he grins. “Can I uh… Ask you a personal question?”

“Try it.”

“What happened to you and that guy?” He gestures at the tattoo. “I mean if that’s a guy, ‘cause it could be a girl too, I-”

“That’s a guy. And well, there’s nothing much to talk about, really. I was dumb enough to think he’s the love of my life, and then I found out the dickhead’s been cheating on me for months. Which is actually pretty funny, ‘cause he’s always been extremely jealous and made me feel guilty every time I looked at another man.”

You’re not quite sure why you told it to him. Apparently sometimes it’s just easier to tell something this personal to a stranger.

“Damn. That’s fucked up.”

“Fuck him. His ego is way bigger than his dick, to be honest, so I don’t regret it’s over,” you shrug.

“You know what? If I were him, I’d definitely treat you way better.”

For some reason the way Griff says it, and the way his dark eyes look at you cause a slight shiver run down your spine.

“Oh yeah?” you say, and it comes out a bit more flirty than you intended.

“Yeah. My ego’s big, but no one ever complained about my dick either,” he smirks. Unconsciously, you lower your gaze to his crotch at these words, and instantly hate yourself for that because he obviously noticed, you can tell it from the way his grin got wider.

“See something you like,” he winks, and you hate yourself once again, because even at this moment you find him attractive, with all his stupid tattoos, and smile, and beard, smug face and mischievous eyes.

“Look, Griff. I wanna make it clear for you, okay? I’m not looking for a relationship. I’ve had enough for now.”

He steps closer, invading your space, leaning towards you, his lips impossibly close to your ear as he speaks, so close you can feel the warmth of his breathing.

“Who’s talking about relationships, sweetheart? It’s just that… If you want me to make you forget ‘bout that son of bitch for a while, I’m happy to oblige.”

Oh gosh, the audacity this man has!..

“I told you not to call me sweetheart, remember?” you say as you turn your face to meet his gaze, and then, all of a sudden, following some strange impulse, you press your lips to his.

Griff is quick to respond to your actions, kissing you back with furious determination. Your kiss was timid, but his tongue invades your mouth with no shame at all, his hand reaching to the back of your head to pull you closer, it skims to the side of your neck and frames your jaw as he kisses you, humming against your mouth, and you probably lost your mind, because you don’t push him away. Instead, your own tongue darts to meet his. Matching his wild energy, you nip on his bottom lip, earning a low groan from him, your fingers sinking into his hair to give it a tug.

It’s crazy. Totally fucking insane. You don’t even know this man.

“Fine,” you hear yourself saying, chest heaving as you’re trying to catch a breath. “Make me forget.”

“Customer’s always right,” Griff chuckles, his hands roaming down your body, kneading your butt as he kisses you once again with the same fire and passion. “Just wait a second.”

He pulls back and walks towards the door. He turns over the “open” sign, changing it into a “closed” one, and returns to you.

“Don’t want anyone to disturb us”, he explains, seizing your hips and urging you to sit on the desk behind you. “Still wanna do it, darlin’?”

“I might change my mind if you ask too many questions.”

“Got it.”

He buries his face into your neck, kissing, sucking and nibbling at the tender flesh there, big warm hands sliding up your thighs and under the skirt of your dress. You let out a quiet moan when he reaches your already embarrassingly damp underwear.

“Shit, you sound so good. Can you moan a lil louder for me?” He murmurs into your neck, his fingers pressing harder between your thighs, causing your hips to buck in anticipation.

“Want me to moan - make me.”

You have no idea where you got this boldness from, but that’s the new you, and fuck it - you’re actually enjoying yourself.

Griff doesn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly tugs your panties down your legs, cursing at your shoelaces as he unties and pulls off your boots to get the underwear out of the way. Once he manages to do it, he pushes your legs open and dips his fingers between your slick folds. You whimper, gripping onto his shoulders, as he curls them inside of you, touching exactly the right spot over and over. It feels amazing, mind blowing, but you still need more.

“You got condoms, do you?” you ask breathlessly.

“Who do you think I am, swee- darlin’?” he grins, reaching to fish it out of his back pocket. At this point you don’t even give a shit what he calls you any longer. With shaky fingers you undo his jeans as he opens the wrapper with his teeth and throws it away.

He enters you with a hard thrust of his hips, setting a pretty rough pace, but that’s exactly what you want. He promised to make you forget, and he keeps his promise, fucking you as if he wants fuck any single thought out of your brain until your head is empty and light. Your moans and gasps and his grunts and muffled curses become louder and louder as you’re both getting closer to climax. You come first, throwing your head back as your walls flutter and clench around him, your whole body shuddering as pleasure hits you wave after delicious wave. Griff manages to catch your mouth in a messy, sloppy kiss before he follows you, groaning like a wild animal. Then he stays still for a while, panting, face buried into the crook of your neck.

Getting down from your high, you let your fingers caress the back of his neck absentmindedly, enjoying that pleasant post-orgasmic buzz coursing through your body. How can sex with someone you barely know feel so good? You always thought really good sex must involve feelings. Not that you want to repeat this experience, but right now, at this stage of your life it didn’t feel dirty or embarrassing. It felt kinda liberating.

“You okay?” Griff asks hoarsely as he pulls away and reaches somewhere behind you to grab a roll of paper towels.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nod.

Your hand is already on the doorknob when Griff stops you.

“Wait, almost forgot,” he tears a page out of his album and hands it to you. “Here. I don’t repeat the tattoos, so…”

“Oh. Course,” you smile as you take the paper and look at the skull with roses once again. “Alright. Thanks again, um… Good night!”

“Night,” he says simply. “Come over if you need some more ink, or… You know.”

“I don’t think so,” you reply honestly. “But who knows, maybe one day I’ll change my mind.”

He nods with a soft yet smug chuckle on his face.

“Customer’s always right.”

Thank you for reading!

Tattoo inspo

#bernthirstpalooza #griff x reader #tattoo master au #baby driver #jon bernthal fanfiction #lucy tries to write #darlingshane

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sirenjose · 3 months ago

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Missing Player-ID: 157716441

Hidden Story/Epilogue - Part 2

Main Story: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Hidden Story: Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Plot Analysis: Part 1 Part 2

Puzzle Solver Analysis

Look again at the board. Touching different parts of the board gives you clues.

With the board, you poke/circle all the places the girl has been to.

Then look at the back of the map for the correspond letter. Which spells out “email me”.

Say this to ***** for more dialogue.

Detective mentions he looked at the places he’s visited before on the map and found the message left by the girl, and asks if he’s supposed to message her. *****: “Interesting, so why not try it?” Detective: “I don’t know her email address.” ***** suggets he check for a mailbox on other platforms.

You can find girl’s Weibo watermark on Taobao (the place that sold the dice).

“Cat’s claw”. You can find her email here: [email protected]. @163 is the suffix for the netease mailbox.

You get this message after sending that email a message.

“Strangers, thank you for your help. At the end of the game, she escaped with them. I guess they gave her a sense of security. After they all disapepared, I found her. She had lost everything, but she could still talk. It was a relief for her to talk about it. Try to recover the last game at midnight, and I’ll judge whether you’re worthy.”

Go back to the game now.

To restore the last game at midnight, you need to find the girl’s account.

There’s only 1 game in the record.

Just play from 11-12 in the evening.

You get a letter after. Align question marks on different pages. Align the 16 squares of the key with the 16 squares on the page. The word it’s pointing to is “broken”

There are question marks on pages 12, 32, 36, and 48. Putting the words together spells out: “Broken childhood”.

Detective asks ***** if the girl left these words on purpose. *****: “It’s my little surprise for you. But more important is the story behind it.” Detective: “What does ‘broken childhoon’ mean?” *****: “It’s literal. It’s the inner world beneath the exterior, the past that you don’t want to look back on. I’ve got some old stories about her here.” Detective: “Can you share it with me?” *****: “Souls wandering on the edge of different personalities, even unconsciously, will send out distress signals. Find the plea left by her. If you want to understand her, start by reading the message from the girl.” ***** then mentions using something to change Xs to Ys on the back of a map. Use on thing to change the X at the back of the map to Y.”

Get the PTSD/CAPS paper, and line up the straight lines on the papers with the X looking marks of the other page to form Ys. Reading the words next to the dots on the paper gives: “Hollow Out Frame Number >= 30”.

So knock out numbers greater or equal to 30.

There will be corresponding letters on the page behind the PTSD table after doing this. Spells out: “don’t beat me”.

Detective: “Did she stay?” *****: “It seems you are suitable for listening to this story.”

“September 9th 1992 The man I've never met always gives me a glimpse of fantasy when I'm vulnerable. What does he look like, do I look like him? My mother might have kept a picture of him, but it was so long ago that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t dig into my memory to find out what he looked like. Was he a gentle man? I still remember my mother describing their story to me with great emotion, but I can’t remember exactly what she told me. Although I had never met him, I could feel the happiness in her words - if one had seen the story of the man and could not remember what was said, one could clearly perceive the happiness. Such a person must be gentle. If I could meet him, what should I tell him? I should tell him what happened to my mother ...... and tell him that she was wronged in his absence. I feel for her. As for me ...... I’d rather not let him have too many worries. He’s a hero to his country and a hero to my mother. He’s already too tired. And… I’ve found a way to reconcile with myself in the dark basement(?). They gave me companionship and encouragement in my most desperate moments, and allowed me to persevere without him. Do I hate the devil? Of course! After making him disappear completely, they all advised me to leave the hatred behind and just run away, as far away as possible. They all said that if I kept the hatred, the person I hated would not really leave me. But it's not easy! The excruciating pain, the festering wounds, the black bruises ...... they know too! They've been through it with me! No more, thankfully, no more: a new world, new friends, no more wounds, no more shouts, no more nightmares. If my mother had known, she would have been pleased that I had met a good man. He would have given my mother what she lost – a happy family. And my child would not have to see their father only in memories as they does now. When they think of their father, they must be filled with happiness and pride. I'm sure they are. But I'm really curious what their father was like.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There seems to be a photo, but the face is obliterated.

“Poster for the Patient Support Group(?): We are a voluntary, academic, non-profit social organization formed and registered by medical professionals and caring citizens in the city. As the city's first mutual aid society for patients with mental illness, ‘We Walk’ and its predecessors have a history of more than 27 years, and through the continuous exchange of information and the sharing of an excellent mutual aid platform... ‘We Walk’ has grown to become a platform for patients to exchange information and share their experiences.”

(*Unsure of translation here?) She’s gone…finally…finally… Out the door to the turn left, turn left… turn left It’s the direction of the subway station… The car… car… should be gone. There’s blood all over, blood all over, blood all over! It’s hard, hard, hard to remove… It’s not as bad as his clothes… and hat. All of them are brownish yellow brownish yellow Even if you rub it, you can’t see it. It must’ve been intentional, intentional, intentional Don’t come back, don’t come back, don’t come back Disappear forever, She should have disappeared with him long ago.

It doesn’t look very complete. Is a word missing here?

#idv #identity v #Missing Player-ID: 157716441 #Missing Player #sirenjose analyses and theories

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darter-blue · 4 years ago

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And now for some stucky fluff...

Read it here on ao3

Or part one, two, three, four on tumblr

Bucky’s sense has left him. It left him somewhere back on the dance floor. Maybe even before then.

It’s entirely possible that in fact he’s never had any.

He spent too long talking at Steve about particles… about soulmates… about whatever it is that's happening between them. And by some miracle, Steve is still listening, still looking at Bucky like he’s interesting, like his words mean something. And Bucky needs to harness that. Needs to grab at it before it slips through his fingers.

So he quits his yapping. He grabs Steve and he pulls at him again, marvels at the complete lack of resistance there, at the way Steve just follows him. When he dares to look back over his shoulder, Steve is still there, still staring at Bucky as if he is something wondrous. Somehow not tripping, or faltering, despite not watching at all where he’s going and or paying any kind of attention to the people or the noise or the chaos of the casino around them.

Steve’s eyes are only for Bucky.

Even as Bucky pulls them through the garishly painted doors. Even as Bucky leads him into madness.

Bucky turns away from Steve to face forward, to push clear of the doors and let them swing closed behind them.

It’s much quieter in the chapel.

Bucky sweeps his eyes from right to left and takes in the pastel pink walls, the blue ribbons along the pews, the couple chatting at the top of the aisle. One dressed as Elvis - white jumpsuit and cape, big hair, sunglasses, guitar flung over one shoulder, not slim, but filling out that jumpsuit nicely all the same - the other wearing a hot pink t-shirt that reads ‘we will wed you’ in white lettering across the chest and a fifties retro polka dot skirt.

They both look up as Steve and Bucky enter.

‘He-ey,’ the man dressed as Elvis says, smile and eyes widening as he looks past Bucky and up and up to Steve, then back down and up again. One eyebrow raising in slight disbelief, no doubt, at the existence of such a perfect being.

Bucky can’t blame him.

‘Welcome, welcome!’ the woman in hot pink says, coming forward, arms outstretched, ‘hello boys!’

‘Hello,’ Bucky says, smiling at her exuberance, and her very excellent blond bee-hive up-do, and slows to a stop about halfway down the aisle.

‘Ma’am,’ Steve says, affability dripping from the buttery smooth tone in his voice, coming to a stop on Bucky’s right.

‘Oh, you two look like a match made in heaven!’ the woman says, stopping a few feet from them, she holds up her hands and makes a frame with her fingers, placing Bucky and Steve in it and looking through at them with one narrowed eye. ‘Oh yes. Beautiful, beautiful.’

‘Uh…’ Bucky starts, and falters. At a loss for exactly how to proceed.

He looks up at Steve and Steve looks down at him with an encouraging smile, slides an arm around Bucky’s waist and squeezes him closer.

‘We umm… do we have to make an appointment?’

‘You two?’ the woman says, eyeing them both up and down, ‘no appointments necessary, come come come.’ She spins around and starts heading towards Elvis, checking back to make sure Bucky and Steve are following her, ‘Come with me, I’m going to take care of everything.’

‘Okay,’ Bucky says, looking up and Steve and shrugging his shoulders.

Steve laughs and squeezes Bucky tighter, walking them down the aisle together. ‘How do you make everybody fall in love with you like this, Buck?’

‘Me?’ Bucky says, laughing and shaking his head at Steve. As if Steve has no idea of the kind of magnetism he’s exuding. The uncanny resemblance he has to a greek god.

‘Yes, definitely you,’ Steve says, ‘People are never this easy with me.’

‘I am,’ Bucky says truthfully. Everything about Steve screams home to Bucky. Screams safety and happiness. Bucky couldn’t be anything but easy with him.

‘Yes you are,’ Steve says softly. Squeezing Bucky again. He’s going to have to stop doing that, it's so warm, his arm is so strong, his hand is so big, Bucky feels encased by him. It’s dangerously addictive. Bucky wants to lean into it and let himself go.

But, actually, why can't he? This is a chapel, they are about to leap into the craziest decision Bucky has ever made in his life... So Bucky does lean into it. Lets his side press into Steve, lets them fit together like a solved puzzle.

‘Okay boys, we have some forms, we have some catalogues,’ the woman says, gesturing them into a room off to the side of the chapel, ‘I need you to put your decision making hats on, okay? We have about thirty minutes before the next couple comes in and I want to slot you right in, yes?’

‘Okay,’ Bucky and Steve say together, nodding their heads.

‘Good, good. So take a look over these, sign them, pick your rings and I’ll charge them all to your room. You’re staying in the casino right?’

‘Yes,’ Steve says, moving forward before Bucky can answer, ‘Charge it to my room, please.’

Steve starts pulling out his wallet, shows his identification and takes the pen the lady offers him, and Bucky watches with a sort of fascination, as Steve becomes completely in control.

‘Steve Rogers,’ the woman says with a smile Bucky doesn’t understand. Knowing, familiar. ‘I’m Mavis, it’s so lovely to meet you.’

‘And you,’ Steve says. He opens his arm out to Bucky to gesture him forward, and slides it around Bucky’s shoulder when he gets close enough. ‘This is Bucky.’

‘James Buchanan Barnes,’ Bucky says, holding out a hand for Mavis to shake, ‘pleasure to meet you, Mavis.’

‘Oh well you are just the sweetest thing,’ Mavis says with a chuckle, her cheeks blushing, ‘absolutely adorable.’ She pushes a catalogue towards Bucky, ‘Find your rings, darlin’ while Steve here fills out the paperwork. I just need some signatures from both of you and I’ll set up everything with Larry over there,’ she points to Elvis who waves back at them from the altar, ‘while you pop out and find yourselves a witness.’

‘Can’t you be our witness, Mavis?’ Bucky asks. He doesn’t want to unpack the kind of recklessness that it takes to be getting married in a seedy casino wedding chapel and needing to nab random strangers to be their witnesses.

‘Oh of course I will, darlin’ boy, but you need two. And Larry is the officiator, he can’t be a witness I’m afraid.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Steve says, looking up from the paperwork and handing Bucky the pen, ‘You sign these and pick out the rings, Buck, I’ll go grab somebody.’

‘Ahh... sure,’ Bucky takes the pen and watches as Steve takes off on a mission, ‘I’ll just… pick out my wedding ring from this plastic catalogue…’

‘Okay,’ Mavis says, bustling about in the small room and not watching Bucky at all, ‘Here are your complimentary t-shirts,’ she pulls some material from a storage box under the counter, ‘here is your album,’ Mavis plonks a hot pink vinyl photo album right next to Bucky’s ring catalogue, ’and here’s your notepad.’

‘Notepad?’ Bucky looks at Mavis and then down at the small notepad, blue and pink and with a vegas sign as a watermark in the background.

‘You might want to jot some quick vows down, honey.’

‘Oh.’

It occurs to Bucky, as he looks down at his coloured notepad, at the ring catalogue on laminated sheets of pink paper, at the t-shirts Mavis has put down for them on the counter, that this is perhaps a terrible mistake.

And then he looks a little closer at one of the rings on the last page… plain white gold (plated, he’s guessing) flat bands with an inscription on the inside that reads, ‘For we are but two halves, together whole’ and wonders if in fact it's the opposite of a mistake.

What if this is fate?

‘Bucky, I found somebody,’ Steve comes tearing back into the chapel followed by a dazed looking man, wide eyed and smiling, looking up at Steve as if he just met the messiah. ‘This is Scott.’

‘Hi Scott,’ Bucky says, dragging the man’s attention away from Steve, ‘thank you so much for doing this.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Scott says, beaming back up at Steve, ‘for this guy? Anything.’

He looks starstruck - Bucky can totally understand where he’s coming from.

Scott is absolutely bouncing on the balls of his feet, ‘You are a lucky guy, Bucky.’

Bucky looks at Steve, who is looking worriedly between Scott and Bucky, reminding Bucky momentarily of a confused puppy, and has to wholeheartedly agree.

‘You still sure about this, Buck?’ Steve asks, puppy dog eyes kicking into full gear.

Bucky can’t help but smile. ‘I um… found these I sort of like,’ Bucky says in lieu of an answer, pointing to the picture of the rings on the laminated page, ‘what do you think?’

Steve looks down at them, at the inscription decsribed underneath the picture and looks back up at Bucky with the softest, sweetest smile. ‘They look perfect.’

‘Yeah? You think so?’

‘I do.’

And Bucky’s heart melts. He feels the warmth of it spread right through his chest.

‘Perfect!’ Mavis cries, swooping in to grab the catalogue and disappear into the chapel, yelling back ‘get yourselves to the altar boys!’

‘I guess we ah… head out there?’ Bucky gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, to the altar, ‘let me just um…’ he jots down a few lines and then rips the page off and hands the notepad to Steve, ‘for your vows.’

‘Ahh…’ Steve looks adorably terrified at the notepad Bucky has just handed him and looks over at Scott who is smiling at both of them now.

‘You guys look good together,’ Scott says, grabbing them both around their biceps and pushing them together, ‘this is really special. Thanks for letting me be a part of this, Cap.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Steve says, calm but bemused as Scott’s hands keep squeezing.

Bucky looks up at Steve and then back at Scott who almost seems to be tearing up.

‘You guys know each other?’

‘I wish,’ Scott says, shaking his head with a laugh, ‘what a dream this night has turned out to be.’

And Bucky can’t help but laugh. It’s just crazy enough to be perfect for this evening. ‘For you and me both,’ Bucky says. And Scott squeezes his arm a little tighter. ‘We even have this t-shirt for you.’

Scott takes the t-shirt Bucky offers him reverently. ‘Viva las witness,’ he says with awe. ‘This is amazing.’

‘And for you, sir,’ Bucky says, handing one to Steve.

‘Thank you, Buck’ Steve says, standing back from them both to pull off the button down he’s wearing.

Bucky can’t stop the gasp that escapes as Steve’s shirt slides down his arms to reveal the wide expanse of chiseled porcelain perfection underneath.

Steve smiles at Bucky’s no doubt slack jawed expression but Bucky can’t look away. It’s… a lot. IKt’s more muscle than Bucky has ever seen on a real live person. Toned and smooth and carved out of marble.

What is Bucky getting himself into?

Steve is pulling the pink ‘groom’ shirt over his chest and down over his washboard abs and Bucky has to hold his hand back from reaching out to touch him, to slip his fingers under the soft material of the t-shirt.

‘Your turn, Buck,’ Steve says, staring at Bucky with one eyebrow raised, handing him the blue shirt.

‘Uh-uh.’ Bucky shakes his head. 'Nope, not after that,' he waves his hand in the direction of Steve's chest, 'no thank you.'

'Buck?'

'I don't look anything like that.'

'Nobody looks anything like that,' Scott says, his eyebrows still at his hairline.

'Scott, could you give us five minutes?'

'Yeah, I'll just…' Scott backs out of the room and towards the altar, 'let me choose you some music. Be right back.'

'Bucky,' Steve steps closer as Scott disappears, 'you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with.'

Bucky lets him closer, but doesn't move.

'But this,' Steve puts his hands to his giant pecs, nearly breaking through the t-shirt, 'this is not what makes me, me.'

'I know,' Bucky tucks his hair behind his ear, nodding his head 'I know that.' He does know that. But it’s hard to not be intimidated by his perfection.

'And as beautiful as you are,' Steve says, reaching out to take Bucky's hand and hold it, put it up against Bucky’s chest, 'this isn't what makes you, you.' Steve presses the finger of his free hand against Bucky’s forehead. 'This is, Buck. This is you, yes?'

'Yes.' And it’s true. He forgets that sometimes but it’s true.

'And it's amazing, you're amazing.'

'I am?' Is he? Bucky doesn’t feel amazing. He feels like he’s just scraping by most of the time.

'You are.'

Steve is looking down at him with so much affection, Bucky knows it’s not a line. It’s what Steve really thinks.

'You are too,' Bucky lifts his own free hand to touch Steve's forehead, 'you're so lovely.'

Steve leans in as Bucky traces his hand down to his cheek and rests his forehead against Bucky's. 'You don't have to wear the t-shirt, Bucky,' Steve says softly, running his hand through Bucky’s hair, 'You don't ever have to do anything you don't want to do.'

Steve's hands on him are like a balm. They radiate care and calm, and they speak Steve's truth.

Bucky’s insecurity washes away. He wants to be part of this. He wants to be all in. 'I do want to wear the t-shirt,' Bucky whispers, 'It's cute.'

Steve laughs and almost snorts. 'It's perfect for you.' Steve nods. 'Want me to give you some privacy?'

'No,’ Bucky doesn’t want Steve to go anywhere. ‘No I want you to help me.’

Bucky takes Steve’s hands in his own and places them gently at the hem of his t-shirt - faded and worn and washed too many times, all the more comfortable because of it.

Steve slides his hands up under the hem and over the bare skin above Bucky’s waistband, dragging the tips of his fingers across Bucky’s stomach. Bucky breaths in a sharp gasp of air as Steve’s thumb runs over his hip bone.

‘Gorgeous,’ Steve sighs the word, his breath on Bucky’s lips, he’s so close.

Bucky lifts his arms to let Steve run his fingers up further, taking the material of the shirt with him and lifting it slowly over Bucky’s head. He runs his hands back down Bucky’s chest, fingertips burning into Bucky’s skin, charged and electric.

They slow at Bucky’s stomach, sliding around the smooth, slightly rounded softness of Bucky’s waist to settle on his hips, rubbing circles over the bone with his thumbs.

‘Beautiful,’ Steve whispers, ‘you’re perfect, Bucky.’

‘Thank you,’ Bucky whispers back. Not because Steve has said it, but because he’s made Bucky believe it.

Steve’s nuzzles closer, reaching up to kiss his lips against Bucky’s forehead, Bucky settles his hands on Steve’s chest, up to Steve’s shoulders and around his neck-

‘Showtime boys!’ Mavis says, bursting into the room and then throwing a hand over her eyes as Steve and Bucky jump apart, ‘Oops! Sorry, but you need to get your sweet little butts out there, we’re running out of time.’

‘Yep, sorry, sorry,’ Bucky grabs for the blue t-shirt, ‘Elvis said we do’ plastered across the front in bright pink lettering, ‘coming right out.’

‘Better late than never,’ Mavis says with a wink to Steve and Bucky laughs at the blush that creeps into his cheeks.

‘Shit,’ Steve writes quickly in the notepad as they both hustle out to the altar, Scott off to the side pairing his phone with the sound system as ‘Fools rush in’ starts up over the speakers and Larry-Elvis smiles down at them as they move into position on either side of where he stands a step above them.

Steve tucks the notepad into his pocket and shuffles his feet. Bucky stands straight and reaches for his hands, pulls them into the space between them, holds them there, safe between Bucky’s own.

‘Welcome folks,’ Larry-Elvis drawls, ‘We’re gonna keep this short and sweet, I as a certified official in the state of Nevada, do preside over these two young men, to bring them together in holy matrimony-’

Steve catches Bucky’s eye and bites his lip. Bucky can only look back and try and keep from vibrating out of his skin.

‘-James Buchanan Barnes, did you have some words for Steve,’

‘Ah, yep…’ Bucky says, grabbing the torn out page from the pocket of his jeans, ‘Ah, Steven-’

‘-Grant,’ Steve says quietly.

‘Steven Grant Rogers, somehow it feels like I’ve known you forever. Somehow I feel like tonight I have met the kindest, most wonderful man in the world.’

‘It’s so true,’ Scott says quietly from behind them, and it makes Bucky smile.

‘Whatever brought us together, whatever force has drawn us to each other… It feels like fate, Steve. I think maybe you’re my person.’

Steve is nodding, smiling, he squeezes Bucky’s fingers.

‘And Steve?’ Larry-Elvis asks, ‘did you have words too, son?’

‘Yeah I…’ Steve doesn’t reach for his notepad, he looks at Bucky and squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, ‘James Buchanan Barnes, my heart knows you. However our particles have danced together through time, I found you here and now, and I’m going to hold on for as long as I can-’

‘Oh, god,’ Scott sobs behind them.

‘-I think you’re right about fate, Buck, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life, just being a part of yours.’

‘Beautiful!’ Mavis cries, running over with the rings, ‘Rings boys, time to wrap it up.’

Bucky has to smile at the chaos, at Steve’s face as he bites his cheek and tries not to laugh. He checks back at Scott to see him taking video of the ceremony and hopes that he can watch this in the morning, sober, and remember how light his heart is right now.

‘That was beautiful, Steve-Steve Rogers,’ Bucky says leaning in to whisper.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Steve says back and they smile at each other like idiots as Mavis hands them their rings and the song fades out on Elvis singing about falling in love. It couldn’t be more perfect.

‘You may kiss the groom, fellas,’ Larry says with a sweeping hand, ‘I now pronounce you husband and husband.’

And all of the noise fades away around them as Steve steps in, brings their joined hands up to their chests and reaches down to rest his lips against Bucky’s.

‘May I?’ he whispers against Bucky’s mouth.

‘Fuck yes,’ Bucky whispers back, and Steve laughs as he closes that last tiny distance, presses his warm lips softly to Bucky’s and opens them just enough to fit their mouths together.

The tenderness of it has Bucky in freefall.

He sighs into the taste of Steve’s lips, the luscious sweep of them against Bucky’s, and Steve has to let go of Bucky’s hands to reach around and grab him, take Bucky’s weight where he has dropped into Steve’s hold, pressing deeper into the kiss as he does, opening wider to it, gently nudging his tongue against Bucky’s and Bucky pushes back, licks softly into Steve’s mouth, sucks at the plumpness of his bottom lip, reaches his hands up around Steve’s neck and holds on.

The bang of the confetti canon has Steve snapping back up to standing, pulling Bucky with him and wrapping his arms around him, as if to shield him. Looking up and then back at Bucky as the coloured paper rains down on them.

Bucky can't help huffing a happy laugh at his husband. His husband.

‘Congratulations!’ Mavis and Larry-Elvis and Scott all cry from around them, but Bucky’s world is all and only Steve right now. The crystal clear blue of his eyes, the rose of his cheeks, the sharp nose and pink lips, and the look of absolute adoration on his face.

‘Wanna get out of here?’ Bucky asks.

Steve smiles even wider, ducks his head to kiss Bucky again, slow and soft and sweet and whispers into Bucky’s mouth, ‘I do.’

It’s perfect.

#stucky #stucky fluff #fluff #accidental husbands #stucky fic #steve/peggy #steve x darcy #bottom bucky #cap steve #shrunkyclunks #my writing

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kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 3 years ago

Text

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 - Hijikata Chapter 5

This is my last post of the month, so I’ll end by asking you to please support me if you can through my ko-fi, and paypal or patreon which provides access to my hakuoki blog translations and early access to my postings. Also, please let me know if you have any hakuoki drama cds that you’d be willing to share that are on my Lookout List since i either do not have audio for those cds or do not have audio that I can share…. and if you are able to remove watermarks from a video, please contact me.

For some very strange reason, I decided to watch the xxxHolic stage. i mean, i don’t even remember the plot of the manga (or the last time i even read it for that matter), and since my understanding of spoken Japanese is worse than abysmal, I didn’t really understand what was going on so it probably wasn’t a good idea to watch in the first place... though in fairness, i just had it played in the background as I was mostly focusing on something else at the time. lol. yeah, im weird.

anyway, enjoy!

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 - Hijikata Chapter 5

Translation by KumoriYami

Yukimura: Pickles, and freshly brewed tea for Hijikta-san...... Nn.

There was steam wafting from the tea that had been placed on the tray, and it tickled my nose [reword later].

After a trip to the kitchen to secure the pickles and tea, I headed straight towards Hijikata-san's room.

Yukimura: It would be nice if Hijikata-san could enjoy this.

I muttered quietly with anticipation, and stopped at the door in front of Hijikata-san's room.

Although it wasn't a bad idea to bring food, what if I got in the way of his work and he kicked me out?

While worrying about this, I took in a deep breath and opened my mouth to speak through the closed [im assuming it's "sliding". check later] doors.

Yukimura: Um, Hijikata-san. It's Yukimura.

…………

Yukimura: I'm sorry to disturb you while you're busy. I made you some tea...

…………

After asking several times, there was still no response/signs of movement from the other side of the door.

Yukimura: As expected, it wasn't good to bring tea over......

I was hoping this would make him happy/cheer him up, but the tea had now become cold/had cooled down.

As I listlessly hung my head as I looked down at the tea leaves floating in the teacup——

Hijikata: Hey.

The voice that I had been expecting to hear suddenly came from behind me for some reason.

Yukimura: Eh?

Hijikata: I was wondering who it was, and it turned out to be you, Chizuru. What are you doing standing in front of someone's room?

Yukimura: Hi-Hijikata-san!?

Being in such an unexpected situation, the tray almost fell out of my hands.

After reaching for the tray to keep it steady, Hijikata-san sighed.

Hijikata: Why are you so surprised. It looks like you've seen a ghost.

Yukimura: It, It's not that/N-No, I thought you'd be spending the entire day in your room working.... .!

Hijikata: Well, I was thinking about doing that earlier.

At the same he finished those meaningful words, Hijikata-san glanced at me and went into his room.

Seeing that I was still standing there dumbstruck, Hijikata-san glanced at me.

Hijikata: Weren't you looking for me? If so, don't just stand there and come in.

Yukimura: Ye-Yes!

As soon as I entered the room, the first thing that came into view were the documents and letters scattered all over the place.

After gathering up the things that had scattered to the floor, HIjikata-san sat down.

Hijikata: Well, I just wanted to ask you about what you're carrying in your hands right now...

Yukimura: Ah, yes. I was thinking that it was about time for you to take a break, so I prepared tea and some snacks for you.

Hijikata: You specifically prepared it for me? I'm sorry for troubling you.

After I put down the tray, Hijikata-san immediately reached for the pickles.

After he put the pickles into his mouth, he seemed to be chewing them carefully, as if to taste them slowly/slowly savour them.

Hijikata: Hm? This taste...

Yukimura: Yes. I heard these pickles were brought/sent over from Hino.

Hijikata: I see. No wonder why they taste familiar.

Hijikata:——Ah, these are really delicious. The taste from my hometown is really different/special.

As if he were thinking of his hometown, Hijikata-san looked off into the distance as he sipped his tea.

That's good... he seemed to be happy.

Yukimura: Where these pickles were delivered from——Hijikata-san's hometown is the same as Kondou-san's hometown right?

Hijikata: Yeah. Haven't I mentioned this/it before? I used to learn the sword at a run-down/poor [word i have is 'poor' but i think run-down makes more sense... though i also can't think of any other word at the moment] dojo in Tama with Kondou-san, Souji and Gen-san.

I've heard several stories about that time.

The dojo that Kondou-san was the dojo master of ——. [reword later? 'dojo' repeats twice]

It was where the other executives met.

Yukimura:...It must have been a friendly dojo.

Hijikata: That's because the owner of the dojo is/was a good person. Thanks to that/him, the number of freeloaders increased while it became more and more poor...

Hijikata: At the time, all you could eat for a meal were sliced pickles.

Hijikata: How about it, Chizuru, why don't you try a slice too?

Yukimura: Is that okay/Can I?

Like Hijikata-san suggested, I brought a slice to my mouth.

When I bit into it, a salty taste spread inside my mouth.

Yukimura: They're/It's delicious/Delicious......

Hijikata: Yeah. [So?] You also think that they're delicious......

Seeing how my eyes had widened, Hijikata-san smiled.

I couldn't help but feel fascinated by that smile.

Yukimura:…………

Hijikata: What/What is it? Is there something on my face?

Yukimura: N-No, that's not the case... but, I was thinking that Hijikata-san had a very tender/gentle expression just now...

Hijikata: Huh.... I couldn’t help it since you were praising the flavours of my hometown.

Hijikata-san looked away and whispered softly to himself.

...Perhaps he was feeling embarrassed.

Then/After, as I saw Hijikata-san stretch by lightly turning his neck, I nervously opened my mouth.

Yukimura: Um, speaking of which, Hijikata-san, you've been working all day... If it's alright with you, can I massage your shoulders?

Hijikata: No need to massage my shoulders. Rather, I wouldn't want such a sight to be seen by Souji [reword later? awkward].

Hijikata: If he saw that/you doing that, he would definitely say something to me about retiring/about how I should retire.

Yukimura: Yes/I see...

I lowered my head.

Perhaps it was because he couldn't bear to see my pitiful appearance, but Hijikata-san bitterly smiled and shook his head.

Hijikata:......I changed my mind. Well, in fact, my shoulders are [feeling] very stiff/sore.

As he spoke, Hijikata-san turned his back towards me.

Hijikata: Then..... I'll leave it to you.

Yukimura: Y-Yes! Excuse me then!

I tried to hide my nervousness as I put my hands onto Hijikata-san's shoulders.

When I touched him like this, I once again realized that he was a man again [????].

Hijikata-san's shoulders were much wider/broader than mine, and the muscles in his shoulders were as hard as rocks.

With what little strength I had, I worried that I wouldn't be able to do anything...

While I thought that, I used as much strength as I could as massaged his shoulders.

Yukimura: Is, Is this okay?

Hijikata:…………

Each time I pressed my palms into his shoulders, Hijikata-san's normally stern face seemed to loosen because of how comfortable/relaxing this was [to him].

Although he didn't answer my question, the sigh that escaped his lips was enough of a response.

I might be overstating it, but it seemed that he trusted me [???]....

Seeing his wholly relaxed/comfortable and defenceless expression, I couldn't believe that this was the same Demon Vice-Commander.

Yukimura; You seem really stiff. Thank you for all the hard work you do every day. So, will you be continuing to work after this?

Hijikata: Yeah. I was originally going to work all day today.... that's how it was supposed to be.

Yukimura: Supposed to be?

Hijikata-san glanced at me again with another meaningful look in his eyes/Hijikata-san glanced at me with the same meaningful eyes he had before.

As I blinked my eyes, not knowing what he meant, Hijikata-san's lips lifted into a smile.

Hijikata: In fact, I was going to ordering uniforms, estimating the cost of repairing the leak in the roof... But it seems like the work I was supposed to do was done by someone else.

Yukimura: Th-That/Th-Then...

I finally managed to figure out the situation.

Then, almost as if he were waiting for it, Hijikata-san gently put his hand on the top of my head.

Hijikata: I rarely have free time.... but it wouldn't be bad to go out.

Yukimura: Ye-Yes!

Hijikata: Tell/Call me when you want to go to the festival. If you like, I'll accompany you.

Seeing that Hijikata-san was cheerfully smiling/cheerfully laughed, I also smiled.

Since I could go to the festival with Hijikata-san, what should I/we go do now——

-end of chapter-

#hakuoki #hakuouki #hakuoki yuugiroku 2 #Hijikata Toshizou #Yukimura Chizuru #hakuoki game translation

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red-queen-bebe · 3 years ago

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Yearning

featuring: kenma x gn!reader

wc:703

summary: You and kenma are both pining after each other. Who's going to make the first move?

warnings: none

a/n: pls ignore the time on the txts, I wasn't going to wait for it to be the time I wanted it to be to make these <3

Also, pls ignore the watermark behind it😖❤

Friday 11:20pm

Kenma blushed as he looked at his phone. How could he not? Even though you were always like this it always had an affect on him. Kenma dropped his phone, letting it fall to his chest as he closed his eyes. You were just a friend, just a friend! That’s what he told himself as he responded to your text.

You rolled your eyes to yourself as you rolled out of bed. Seeing as you were wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie all you had to do before you left your house was grab your wallet and slip on your shoes and you were out the door.

It wasn’t long until you were outside of Kenma’s house when you texted him to let you in. When he opened the door you smiled at him, failing to notice how his cheeks lit up with a blush. You looked radiant in the moonlight. You silently followed Kenma into his house and up the stairs to his bedroom.

When he opened his door the only thing lighting up his room was his desktop that sat on his desk. The one his parents had bought him to use for school. You maneuvered yourself around him and plopped yourself onto his bed, dropping the bag of snacks onto the end of his bed. “Here you are. I can’t believe you used me as a delivery service.”

Kenma chuckled at your remark. He may have used you as a delivery service, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to see you. He walked over to his bed and placed himself on the edge and played with the handles of the bag of snacks you had brought. You gazed at him as he tried to gather his thoughts. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Ko?”

He looked up from the bag and smiled at you, before you reached out your arms and pulled him to lay down beside you. Once he had laid down beside you, you laid your head on his shoulder and slung your leg over his waist, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

You knew Kenma liked you. You could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way that he would always wait for you so he could walk you home every day after school, even though he was tired from practice. You knew it. Yet there was something stopping you from making things official. Stopping you from taking that extra step and letting him know exactly how you felt.

He wasn’t any better. Here he was letting you cuddle up next to him, and enjoying it, yet he just couldn’t confess. He couldn’t. What if you were like this with everyone. What if he wasn’t special? What if you were just like that? What if he read into everything wrong, what if you didn’t think of him like that. Even with all of the flirty comments, Kenma still worried about these things. He was still insecure, feeling as though he wasn’t good enough for you. And maybe he wasn’t. I mean, there were far better options in his school, right?

He looked down at you, his movements causing you to look up and make eye contact with him. There it was, that smile that got his heart racing. He sucked in a breath of air. He didn’t think you had ever been this close before. He could smell your breath. It smelled of mint, like your toothpaste. Being so close, being so wrapped up in you made his head feel fuzzy. All he wanted was for you to be his.

You looked into Kenma’s eyes, slightly worried as his breathing kept picking up speed. You placed a hand on his chest and whispered, “Hey, you ok?”

Kenma could feel the warmth of your hand through his t-shirt. It made him realize, it was just you. It was you. He looked down to your lips. He wouldn’t even have to lean in. Just tilt his head down a little more and his lips would be on yours. Gathering as much courage as he could muster he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours.

#haikyuu fanfiction #kenma x reader #haikyuu #kenmakozume

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kaitoujokerscans · 3 years ago

Text

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH2

<2> First Advance Notice

In the Sky Joker's living room, Hachi handed Joker an advance notice written on manila paper.

"W-What are we gonna do?" Hachi looked up at Joker with a worried gaze. Hachi, who wore an aqua-colored hood snugly over his head, was a descendant of ninjas. He had met Joker by chance when trying to steal a treasure and had pleaded with him to become his apprentice. He was now Joker's trusty right hand, and not only did he help with his work, he also handled all the household chores.

With Hachi's eyes on him, Joker read the old-fashioned notice.

I humbly inform you that I will be taking the Crimson Crystal you stole tonight. I will arrive post-haste. Be prepared for me.

—Phantom Thief Noir

"How'd this get here?"

"When I went outside to collect the laundry earlier, Hosshi found it stuck to one of the sheets."

"Hosshi!" exclaimed Hosshi next to Hachi.

Hoshi was a small, squishy, orb-shaped, cat-like creature that had been living with Joker and Hachi since they found him at a site of ruins. The shining yellow stars on his cheeks wobbled as he smiled and bounced cutely around Hachi.

"Hmmm..." Joker studied the advance notice. Locating the Sky Joker while it was in the air was a difficult task. After all, given his line of work, he couldn't let his hideout be discovered easily. This person had sent advance notice right to the Sky Joker, and also knew that Joker had just stolen the Crimson Crystal. This "Phantom Thief Noir" was no amateur...

"But I've never heard of anyone who calls themselves 'Phantom Thief Noir'."

"You're right, I haven't heard of them either. Joker-san, did you make an enemy somehow without realizing?"

"Excuse you. I'm upstanding and gentlemanly, nobody's got any ill will against me!"

"Since when! You said before that there are so many people who hate you that you can't keep track of them all." Hachi gave him a dubious look. Kaneari, whom he had just stolen from, wasn't the only one. Shadow and plenty of others were hounding Joker.

"We may not know who Noir is, but shouldn't we come up with some measures against them?"

"Measures? Naaah, too much work," said Joker as he threw himself onto the sofa.

"Joker-san?"

"Ahh, Shadow was there too, so I'm worn out. Hachi, can you make dinner early?"

"Are you sure you can be so lax about this?"

"I mean, there's nothing to do until this Noir guy gets here, yeah?"

"There's plenty that you could do! Like hiding the treasure, setting up some traps, formulating a plan... Kaneari-san does all sorts of things when he gets a notice from you, Joker-san!"

"But despite all that, has Kaneari ever once protected a treasure from me?"

"Eh... well, no, but..."

"See? Ultimately, getting treasure all depends on the skill of the would-be thief. Doesn't matter how much you set up in advance. It's a match where you have to read each other's minds," Joker said, before taking the Crimson Crystal out of his pocket and letting it catch the light. The crystal gleamed as it reflected the light from the ceiling. The globular surface of the crystal diffused and scattered the light like a prism. Joker was captivated by its beauty for a while.

"I get why he wants to steal this... but!" Joker sat up. "He's not getting it easily!"

"Hm, now that's the spirit," came a voice from the dining room suddenly.

"Eh!?" Joker and Hachi turned around in surprise to see a boy sitting on a chair in the dining room. The boy twisted open a glass bottle with a hiss and took a swig of the beverage inside.

"Spade!"

At Joker's exclamation, the boy called Spade turned to face him. "Hi, Joker. Happy to see me again?"

"I'm not happy! Where'd you come in from!?" Joker gnashed his teeth and glared.

Spade was, like Joker, a phantom thief. He wore a violet scarf and snowy white coat. His long azure hair cascaded over it, and a crest of golden hair shone over his forehead. He was a well-groomed, handsome youth.

"Settle down. This Riviera is exquisite when chilled, Dark Eye."

"Yes, Spade-sama." Standing beside Spade was Dark Eye, whose head was wrapped in bandages. They opened a bottle of the beverage as well. Dark Eye was Spade's assistant, who was female under the guise.

The Riviera which Spade was drinking is a popular drink all over the world, and both Joker and Spade loved it. As Joker said, it was the perfect drink to have after a difficult caper.

"But I must say, it's much more soothing at my own home. This place is always so raucous and dusty," Spade said, clearing his throat deliberately.

"If you're gonna complain, then leave!"

"I came here to ask you about Phantom Thief Noir."

"Wha-!?"

"Spade-san, do you know about Phantom Thief Noir?"

Joker and Hachi leaned forward and gaped at Spade.

"Did you get a notice too!?"

"Notice...?" Spade looked puzzled for a moment.

"You didn't receive an advance notice?" Hachi asked.

Spade answered jitteringly, putting the pieces together.

"Y-Yes, right! That was an advance notice. Will you show me the notice that arrived here?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Hachi handed Spade the notice, which Spade examined closely. "Hm... It's the same type of paper as the slip I received. This tells us a lot about this man calling himself Noir."

"It does?" Hachi asked, to which Spade responded ponderously.

"Hm... Noir seems to be much older. He's naturally left-handed, but has corrected himself to be right-handed. He lived in France at some point, and he likes popcorn..." Spade waved the notice and listed out each point.

"Kyo kyo. Impressive, Spade-sama," nodded Dark Eye with admiration.

"Don't make stuff up," Joker said wearily, but Hachi ignored him.

"How do you know that?"

"Simple. When this notice is held up to the light, you can see that it has a watermark written in French. This paper was produced by a maker in France. But that company went under over thirty years ago, so this paper is no longer on the market. Therefore, the fact that he was able to buy this proves he's up there in years. His letters angle upwards, which is a quirk commonly seen in corrected southpaws. And this oil mark has a residual smell of salt and butter, so it must be from popcorn. He must like it considerably if he has it around even when writing an advance notice." Spade rattled off his reasons.

Hachi was wholly amazed. Spade had gleaned so many traits of the sender from just a small piece of paper. "Huh! You're incredible, Spade-san! It's like you're a detective!"

Spade slipped down a little. "Ha ha, you could say that," he laughed. "Deductions aren't exclusive to detectives. Phantom thieves have to be able to deduce, too. Of course, Joker already knew all of this, yes?" he said, bringing Joker back in.

Caught off-guard, Joker went along with what he was saying. "Huh? Y-Y-Yeah, 'course I did! I figured that all out yesterday!"

"The advance notice hadn't arrived yet yesterday."

"Shush!"

Then Spade sighed. "Really now... why did Noir send advance notice to you, of all people?"

"Kyo kyo, it's a mystery..." Dark Eye's shoulders dropped, and so did Spade's.

"Shut up! What did you come here for, anyway!?"

"I just wanted to discuss this man called Phantom Thief Noir with you."

"I've got nothing to discuss with you. I bet you just had your treasure targeted by Noir and started second-guessing yourself, right?"

"S-Say what?"

"Ever since way back when, you've had trouble getting anything done on your own!"

"HUH? I came here out of the goodness of my heart. I knew that instead of speculating on Noir's identity or formulating a decent plan, you'd try to come up with something random on the spot!"

"Oh yeah!? Well that's my style!" Joker argued as he scowled at Spade.

"He's got a point there, Hosshi."

"Hosshi."

Hachi and Hosshi murmured to each other. But the pair weren't done bickering yet.

"Besides, I don't need a plan! A phantom thief's battle starts when he shows up, that's what makes it interesting!"

"And how much trouble do you think your lack of preparedness has caused me!?"

"When did I ever give you trouble!?"

"Plenty of times!"

"Then be specific! What year, month, day, hour, minute, and second!? What planet, country, region, prefecture, city, ward, block, address, and room number!?"

"That childish attitude of yours is the issue!"

"Shut up! If I'm childish, then so are you!"

"I'm more mature than you, at least!"

"Someone who's mature doesn't shout like that!"

"You're the one shouting so loud!"

"I'm what!?"

"Got a problem!?"

Their foreheads were pressed tightly together as they snarled at each other with vehement looks.

"Cut it out!"

"Kyo kyo, please stop!"

Once Hachi and Dark Eye intervened as usual, Joker and Spade finally pulled away from each other and simultaneously looked the other way with a "Hmph!"

"We're leaving, Dark Eye. It seems Joker has no need of my generosity," Spade beckoned to Dark Eye, and he started walking toward the door. Joker jeered from behind him.

"Yeah, go ahead and leave. I don't need your stinking 'generosity'. I don't trust you in the first place!"

"Likewise," he said, turning back around. Joker and Spade glared at each other once more.

"Don't come back!"

"Who would!"

Spade placed a hand on the exterior door. "It was quite a displeasure..." Spade said, and jumped out into the open. Dark Eye hurried after him.

"Bleh! That's what I wanna say!"

After watching Spade's airship, the Twin Thunder Shark, fly away, Hachi turned back around to Joker. Joker was grumbling and taking out his anger on a cushion. His temper was worse than usual this time...

"Joker-san, you went too far."

"Hmph! I went just far enough for him. The way he's always so patronizing and tries to tell me what to do pisses me off." Joker lay back down on the sofa.

Is that the truth? wondered Hachi. Maybe Spade had come to visit Joker because he was worried. The two of them may have been rivals, but they had once lived together under the same roof. Perhaps Spade had wanted to talk to Joker about Noir, as an old friend... If Spade had received an advance notice as well, he was definitely at least a little uneasy. And if he came to consult with Joker, who might have also received a notice, then...

Hachi remembered how Spade had looked a little desolate from behind when exiting. Joker had calmed down a little by now and was lying down with his back turned, sulking. Hachi sighed, when...

Suddenly, lightning flashed outside the window, and a loud tremor shook the Sky Joker...

#kaitou joker #light novel

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digital-corruption · 4 years ago

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Sorry I slept in again! Holidays have that effect on me.

Haunted by the Past Part 44

Sitting in the back of the executive limousine was awkward. My waiter was on one side of me with a burly man in a suit in the other side. The woman who encouraged me in sat in front of me staring at me. Behind her was a tinted glass so I couldn’t see the driver.

“This whole situation could’ve been avoided, but your boyfriend has been refusing to talk to us,” she feigned sympathy. The car phone rang and she picked it up. “Of course he is, we have his girl. Pay no attention, he’s not going to do anything stupid while we have her.” She hung up her phone.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, he’s an excellent shot,” I lied.

“No he's not. None of his shots were fatal at Mt. Victoria,” she frowned. “His traps though are a problem.”

“Well, get on with it,” I pushed. “Let’s stop wasting everyone’s time.”

“We only just got on the highway,” she pointed out. “He can’t easily get you out now.” She straightened up. “My superior has been trying to make a proposition with your boyfriend since they have common enemies. There's not enough evidence on Senator Hathaway, we need more to remove him, but it can’t be done by us, it has to come from a third-party. We can provide your boyfriend with the resources he needs to get in, but he has to distribute what he finds.”

“Nuh-uh, no way in hell! You'll just turn on him the second you get what you want! And who’s to say that ‘evidence' wasn’t planted there by you!” I refused.

“That’s a shame, my superior was ready to offer full immunity for both you and Jake. I have the drafts with me,” she gestured to her folder. “It was your chance at being free.”

“Are you done? I heard your proposal!” I snapped.

“What if we let your boyfriend on the servers with no limitations?” she offered. “He can find his own way and decide for himself what the damning evidence is.”

“What?” I looked at her confused.

“He can pull as much as he wants from the Senate servers as long as he gives us what we need to guarantee Hathaway’s removal from office,” she clarified.

“How do we know that they’re real servers? This sounds like one giant plant with Jake lined up to take the fall!” I yelled.

“You should consider becoming his talent agent,” she smiled. “We could choose to let him find his own way to the Senate servers and his own way through the firewalls, but he would risk being detected by Hathaway’s men.”

I looked at my waiter, “You said you were the police.”

“Sorry, my colleague misspoke. We're with the Department of Justice,” the woman explained.

“And you can’t get rid of Hathaway through legal means?” I questioned.

“If we could, we wouldn’t be here,” she narrowed her eyes. “We can’t risk getting the warrants and subpoenas blind without knowing what we’re going for at the risk of Hathaway destroying the evidence. As your boyfriend already has a reputation with the public, there is no doubt that he'd be able to find the appropriate evidence and distribute it in a way that will force him out of office.”

“I don’t get it, you attacked us!” I argued. “And now you want us to help you?”

“WE did no such thing. Hathaway has his hand in some very black-ops forces, which is precisely the reason why he needs to be removed from office! That attack was not sanctioned by us,” she defended. “He used special forces domestically. I'm sure you can see the apparent corruption there.”

“I still don’t see any guarantees for Jake. Just meaningless words,” I held back my anger as best as I could. “I will not let you use him as a scapegoat.”

The woman handed her folder over to me. I opened it and saw the Department of Justice letterhead followed by the details of the proposed immunity for Jake with a giant “Draft" watermark.

“You can keep that and have a good read. My card is also inside,” she smiled.

“You’ve said your piece, I'd like to go now,” I reiterated.

“Think of your family, MC. Your parents want their daughter back. Your brother wants to share his news with you and now he’s afraid he’ll never get to tell you. You and Jake can have normal lives,” she continued.

“He has a bounty on his head!” I yelled. “Your immunity won’t do shit for that!”

“That’s unfortunate to hear,” she seemed genuinely surprised. “There is a chance that the bounty will be dropped once Hathaway is made powerless. We can provide witness protection.”

“Not good enough. You’re going to provide witness protection for all of our families? Pull over now,” I demanded.

She sighed and tapped the glass. After a few moments the car slowed down and came to a stop. Both men at my sides stepped out and drew their guns.

“I hope you consider our offer seriously. We can’t do anything for you without your cooperation so it would be your best interest not to fight Hathaway on two fronts,” she added.

“Have a good night,” I said sarcastically as I got out on the passenger’s side.

Jake’s car was pulled up behind us. He had the handgun drawn and aimed at the men. His eyes softened when he saw me.

“Walk slowly,” my waiter ordered.

“A classic prisoner exchange, huh?” I rolled my eyes.

I slowly walked towards Jake. When I was halfway to him they got back in the limousine and drove off.

Jake gestured for me to go into the woods without say anything. He shoved the handgun into the back of his pants then pulled out his bug sensor from his backpack and followed me. Nearly out of eye sight of the car he searched me intimately for any sort of bug or tracker. He took the folder from my hands and tossed it into the bushes. He pulled off my hoodie and scanned underneath.

“You want to search my bra and panties too?” I joked.

“Shut up!” he yelled. He pulled a wire out of my back pocket of my pants and held it up in my face before tossing it into the woods. His eyes had never been so full of anger.

He searched me even more carefully with his fingers and found a tiny black dot inside my shirt. I began to shake from fear. When did these get put on me? Why didn’t I notice?

“Take off your shirt, pants, shoes and socks!” he growled, putting his scanner into his pocket. “Otherwise we’ll be here all night. You’re lighting up like a Christmas tree!”

I pulled out my phone and handed it to him before I nervously undressed in front of him, kicking aside my clothes. It was rather cold that night and I could feel my body temperature draining from me quickly. Jake grabbed me and ran his fingers carefully through my hair, searching for anything that didn’t belong. He pulled off another tiny tracker at the back, at the top of my neck.

“Fuck!” he cursed under his breath.

I shivered uncontrollably from the cold. Jake searched my hair again more vigorously until he was satisfied that there was nothing else hiding in it. He pulled his hoodie off and pulled it over me. Then he pulled me in for a tight hug.

“You’re never going out without me again,” he growled.

Jake grabbed my wrist and pulled me back towards his car. He pulled so hard, I nearly tripped. The sticks and rocks hurt beneath my feet. I stopped dead at least a halfway up.

“Come on!” Jake yelled at me.

“There will be glass!” I warned.

Jake swooped me up and carried me the rest of the distance to the car. He lowered me gently at the car so he could open the passenger door.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” I mumbled.

He sighed, “I shouldn’t have let you go. I should’ve been sterner with you. No more games. Just you and me, ok? No one else. Everyone else needs to learn how to live without us.”

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood fanfiction #Haunted by the Past

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janekfan · 4 years ago

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Dismiss

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016568

This was all Jon’s fault.

He should have known; he’d just brought about an apocalypse for christ’s sake! Of course it was too soon! Of course Martin would be upset at finding him rifling in the dark like an addict. What if there was something worse hiding away in another one and there he was, walking in on Jon pawing through the box for a goddamn snack?

But after the panic and questions and shouting at a sky that only looked on silent and steady, the shakiness was back. The ache. The draw that came from knowing they were here and whispering to him, beckoning to him, promising to ease the hurt building up in his bones as the Eye continued to take and take and take when the well had long since run dry.

And now Martin was alone. Holed up in the bedroom, their(?) bedroom, and it was Jon’s fault. He was alone again and it was because he was too selfish to think beyond feeding the monster he’d become. All because he couldn’t wait, couldn’t give him even a moment to try and forget about Jon’s dietary needs and the pain they caused. There was no way it was easy on Martin, knowing that Jon required.

This.

Worse still was the disappointment, the devastation rolling over him like the rain laden clouds of a storm as he backed away, anguished betrayal pooling in his eyes, even as Jon reached for him, excuses pouring over his lips like ink from a pen.

The mug in his hand seemed like such a paltry offering. Martin deserved infinitely more than this and Jon would never be up for the task if he kept relying on his more monstrous half. Like his resolve, his hold on the ceramic tightened. If Martin wanted him to hold off, or, or prove that he was better than his thirst for fear, then he would give that to him.

Anything for him.

“M’Martin?” He called through the door rather than knock, holding his breath while the decision to let him in or not was made. He couldn’t help but count the seconds, forty seven, a small eternity. Jon fought the impulse to apologize again, Martin said he did that far too much, likely thought he didn’t truly mean it because he never seemed to fix his mistakes. Patience. Wait.

It was not his forte.

“Come in.” Good lord, Martin sounded so tired and when Jon stepped into the room he could see him curled up on the bed facing away from him, the slope of his shoulders defeated. The desire to express remorse all but choked him and he swallowed it down with difficulty. It wouldn’t be for Martin anyway, not really, just another selfish attempt to assuage his own guilt.

“I’m. I brought tea?” Another step closer, watching Martin sit up slowly, elbow rising up as he swiped at his eyes. “O’of course it, it could never hope to m’measure up to yours. I’m afraid I’I’ve never been a deft hand.” He was babbling, rounding the frame so fast that liquid splashed over his fingers. “Mm. B’but here? It’s warm?”

“Thank you, Jon.” It shouldn’t have mattered but the lack of an endearment he’d become so used to was like a blow. Still, he accepted the tea, taking a measured sip before setting it aside and glancing up with red rimmed eyes.

“I. I wasn’t thinking.” To prevent himself reaching for more, Jon plucked at the bottom hem of his, of Martin’s jumper, picking and pulling at the stray threads.

“I was. Surprised, I guess? That you could even look at--” He shook his head, “it’s not important.” And while Jon didn’t agree considering how insensitive he’d been, he welcomed Martin’s arms around him.

“Can’t it wait, Jon?”

Caught.

As he tried to steal away up the stairs with his prize, all too aware of the inherent chicanery.

All too aware of the exasperation in Martin’s voice as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Exasperation with him.

“I can’t exactly...avoid you in here.” He gestured absently to the small space of the cabin made smaller by fear of leaving and they both knew well there was no way Martin wouldn’t be able to hear him. It physically hurt to replace the yellowed paper back into its watermarked manila folder.

“S’sorry Martin. Of course it can wait.” But it was worse for having held it in his hands, for having been so close and the Eye was railing at him now, shouting in his mind for his denial and dizzying him with its volume. Instead Jon settled for stumbling over to the couch to burrow into Martin’s warmth, sighing when he draped a heavy arm across his aching shoulders and dropped a kiss into his messy hair. Beneath his ear Martin’s pulse beat loud, nearly drowning out the yammering want and sluggish and thick, Jon responded in a sleepy hum to Martin’s questions, sinking into a doze when he began to pet through his tangled curls.

Without a dose of second hand fear it only became worse, to the point where his scars screamed out whenever he moved, breathed, and Jon found himself losing large tracts of time even when he wasn’t sleeping. The inside of his skull was stuffed full of candy floss and digging through any of it for a spare thought was far beyond his ken.

Martin didn’t leave anymore.

For very good reason, but Jon couldn’t find a moment alone to, to, to.

Eat.

Even old and stale they would provide a reprieve.

“Martin.” His own voice sounded as though he were hearing it through the walls of a submarine, muffled and strained, and he wasn’t totally certain of his volume. “I. I need to read. To read a statement.”

Please.

The disbelief knitting Martin’s brow almost made him want to cry. It. He’d waited so long. Tried to sneak, be out of the way, to ask.

“The world just ended!” Martin avoided saying just who ended it but it was there in the set of his mouth and Jon winced irrationally at the volume; he wasn’t being yelled at, just about. “And you want to read a bloody statement now?” Incredulous, and at his tone, Jon folded himself into a small origami shape on his spot on the sofa, sharp at all his corners and hopefully harder to hit.

“No! I mean, I--”

“I don’t understand.” His voice was soft now, imploring. "Did you forget what caused this in the first place?" Oh, but he knew the answer to this question. It was good to know.

“M’me?” When Martin sighed, the disappointment captured in it stung.

“Yeah, I mean, no. It’s not your fault you were tricked into reading--look, I just think it’d be better if we waited. At least until we have a plan?” That made sense and he said so, words tripping up in a jumble on his tongue. “Jon, are you alright?”

No. He was hurting and upset and couldn't decide which was the greater ache.

“Yes. Just tired.”

“I’m ready for a kip after the staring contest I had with the sky earlier.” That would be nice. Martin was warm and soft and it didn’t all hurt so much when he was asleep.

His scars pulsed with a feverish ache, twisting, burning, smoldering embers in a body crying out for relief, thoughts disconnected, disoriented, disjointed, knotted up past, present.

He hated this. Hated himself, hated how nothing made sense anymore, all a vast landscape of, boiling, melted wax running together in a kaleidoscope of color.

Martin must hate what he is, hate that he ruined the world and want him to know it. Maybe once he’d learned to be more careful, more thoughtful Martin would let him have one. That's all, he just had to be patient. He still held him, kissed him, loved him, this was just a, a lesson. That's all. When he told him the right answers, when he figured them out, he’d be allowed to read and fill the emptiness eating him away from inside out.

He’d rather Martin than a statement any day.

Just a bit longer.

“Jon.” Martin left him in bed this equivalent to morning in hopes it would stave off whatever he’d come down with but enough was enough. “You can’t spend all day sleeping, love. We need to figure this out.” You can’t ignore what you’ve done and leave me to clean up your mess. Uncharitable, the thought came out of nowhere and Martin was thankful he’d kept his frustration to himself. He knew it wasn’t his fault. Breaking it down to blame wouldn’t help anybody, least of all the entire world. Magnus was old and he’d taken the time to plan this, manipulating them all into place, and asking Jon to carry the whole weight of that wasn’t fair. Fading in and out, thick and syrupy, Jon’s unsteady voice rose from the mountain of quilts.

“Nnn...n’feeling...very well.” He looked dreadful, flushed and fevered, and not for the first time Martin wondered if this was a leftover side effect of the ritual. “S’so cold…” Taking pity, Martin curled around his too thin and shivering frame where Jon panted harshly into his neck, the brush of overheated air humid at his throat.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“Hur’s.” Worry flooded Martin’s chest, constricting and tight. There were no doctors here, no ambulance he could call on.

“Where?”

“Ss…” With difficulty he flexed his burned hand.

“Scars?”

“Ah.”

“Alright, I’m here.” Gently Martin ran a light hand along the seam of his spine in the hope it brought Jon some measure of comfort if nothing else.

Idiot.

It took him too long to put the pieces together. How big did a neon sign have to be before he could read it?

Selfish. Foolish. Stupid. And the one paying dearly for it was Jon.

“You need to come awake for me, love.” He’d already heaved him up once only for him to swoon and this time he bullied him to his feet where he stood swaying dangerously but Martin needed him to be awake, to get his blood moving and stay that way.

“Mma’tin…” agonized, breathless, what had he said earlier? About hurting, his scars? God, Martin, you just watched him fall apart in front of you and did nothing. Worse than nothing. “Sstop…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” For so much, for not listening, for thinking ever that Jon would keep seeking out statements for anything other than necessity. “You’re doing so well, so, so well.” To think he nigh accused him of wanting to Know and nothing else; childish and angry. “But you need to wake up, you need to be able to listen.”

“Am...am.” Marble mouthed, dark lashes like strokes of ink fluttered, obscured the unnatural green glow always seeking. “Lis…” he broke off into a low, shaky moan, curling into himself, trying to sink to the floor, and Martin wanted to cry, worried that if he left him alone for even a moment he wouldn’t be able to wake him again. So he swept him into his arms instead, heart shattering when Jon bit off a sharp sob as his palm ghosted over the gap in his ribs, sore and sensitive and even so, he turned his face into Martin’s chest, twisted trembling fingers into wash-worn wool with a keening whine. He'd hurt him, accused him, berated him.

And Jon still turned to him as though he were the sun.

“Shh, soon now.” Shallow and short, Jon’s chest hitched as he pressed his fever hot forehead hard into his shoulder and swallowed with a wet click.

“Mmah…” around another convulsive swallow and it was barely warning enough to get him over the sink where he coughed up the tea Martin forced into him earlier. Strung tight and painfully wound, Jon exhaled in relief when Martin let him slide boneless down the cabinetry to the floor, cheek pillowed on the cool painted wood. Lifting his chin, Martin brushed back sweat soaked curls, pressed a promise into fiery skin.

“I’m going to fix this.” As quick as he could Martin ran to the closet and grabbed the whole box, returning to find Jon sprawled out on his back, limbs twisted and loose where he fell. “Oh, Jon.” There was no time to make him comfortable, not when for all Martin knew he was dying because he’d refused to see what was right in front of him, what Jon had been trying to tell him. Because it meant that Jon truly wasn’t human and clearly part of Martin wanted to ignore that.

And now.

“Jon, darling, please.” In his lap, listless deadweight, face turned unconsciously toward the statements. “Open your eyes, Jon, which ones haven’t you read?” Martin clawed through the folders, skimming titles, trying to remember if he’d heard any snippets, but no. He didn’t like listening to them, didn’t want to hear the horrors of others. If he’d stayed with him would he have been able to stop Magnus’ plan? “Jon!” Listing numbers, names, until the floor around them was tiled in paper. Hitching him higher, Martin kissed his pulsepoint when his head lolled, slow and sluggish. “Jon.” Which one?

“Mmm...”

“This one?” He read the first sentence, shuddering already at the chill running up his spine. “Jon?” Another paragraph and uncoordinated, his arm struck out, reaching blindly. “Okay, alright. Are you listening?” The tiniest nod, Martin wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but began to read, steady as he could, sick with himself when the tremors eased and tight, spasming muscles unspooled under his worried hand. When the tears came he had to force himself to keep on, beside himself that he couldn’t comfort him. With the great gasping breaths of a man half drowned, Jon swung his arms around Martin’s neck when the strength came back to his arms as it all drew to a close.

“Th’thank you.” Damp spread over his skin, his words tinged with desperate relief. “M’sorry, m’s’sorry.”

“For what?” He clutched him back, the sound of paper crumpling in his fist sharp in his ears and punctuated by Jon’s frantic apologies, his uneasy gratefulness.

“Th’thank you, Martin, thank y’you. Won’ a’a’ask again.”

“Jon.”

“Can wait.” The quake in his voice was shivery and small and devastation pooled in Martin’ stomach.

It sounded too much as though--

“Oh darling, oh no, no. I.” He had to pause, to swallow the tangle of emotion clotting up his throat and gathered him closer. “I didn’t understand. That’s all. I would. Jon.” Gently he shifted him to get a look at his tear streaked and exhausted face, swiping at his own eyes before cupping his cheek and drawing his thumb over the too-prominent bone there. “Never, I would never h’hurt, or punish--I didn’t know. I didn’t listen.” The first statement’s reprieve was wearing thin and Martin settled Jon against his chest where he laid still, head resting on his shoulder as he reached for another envelope.

The light never changed, no matter the time, but it was softer now. Here.

Pastel behind his eyelids as if swimming through a twilight consciousness into the soft sensations of waking. The knit strands of Martin’s cardigan threaded between his tangled fingers and he shifted closer, so warm, the fever chills he’d suffered for days a thing of the not too distant past. Jon wanted to collect this feeling, this safety, bottle it up for when Martin finally figured out that the only thing he knew how to do was take. Holding his breath, he tried to stay in this moment and absorb the feeling of Martin’s body pressed against his own, slotted perfectly together like a pair of puzzle pieces, the heat generated beneath the quilt comforting, intoxicating.

Even though Jon could tell you more than most that stealing scraps of affection never amounted to enough.

Soft kisses rained over his skin, over every scar, because he’d been unable to cry quietly enough to leave Martin undisturbed. He pulled away, scrubbed his face with the heel of his scarred hands.

“Sorry.”

“Please, don’t be.” And he wanted to believe him, that he could have this even with what he was. That he wouldn’t ruin Martin like he’d already ruined so much. “Come here, love.” Patient. Martin was so patient with him even when the uncertainty had to show in his face. “It’s alright.” And Jon dove back in, hands not so much brushing against each other as colliding when he reached for more, more, more, taking, taking, taking. Hiccuping with sobs, burrowing close, closer, the closest he could be, where Martin’s kiss was a soft promise pressed between them, told to his mouth rather than his ear but a message of love and protection and tenderness all the same. Tears he forgot he’d been crying were thumbed gently away, so carefully it was as though Martin worried he would break under the weight of his touch.

Sated, the Beholding a murmur lost in the rhythm of Martin’s heart, Jon allowed himself to be lost, to let someone else, someone he loved and who loved him in return, carry it all just for a little while.

“How’re you feeling?” He approached with a cup of tea, inadequate though it was for an apology, passing it off to Jon’s eager, steady hands. His color was better, the flush faded, and he’d stopped moving like there were needles wedged in every joint.

“Much better, thank you, Martin.” Whyever would he thank him? But here he was, eyes closed in appreciation of the first sip, patting the cushion next to him in open invitation.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” After a beat of silence Jon set aside the mug and folded his hands in his lap.

“I thought you knew.” His fingers flexed and Jon forced himself to look Martin in the eye. “I thought it was what you, what you wanted.” And the confusion in his expression, that he had possibly miscalculated, was painful. But isn’t that what he’d learned time and time again? Tim, Basira, Melanie, Daisy, even Martin himself! That when he made mistakes, made wrong choices, when he’d done something they didn’t approve of he’d been yelled at, ridiculed, threatened, terrified, hurt, abandoned. He laughed, a bitter, deprecating huff. "I did end the world after all. You've a right to be upset."

“Wha--no! Jon, no! If I’d--” speechless, that Jon just accepted so easily being hurt this way, accepted that Martin, even accidentally, wanted to see him punished for his part in bringing about Magnus’ plan.

“When I, I asked. I. It made you so angry.”

"Jon. No matter how angry I am, I never want to hurt you or punish you. That’s not okay."

"But--"

“I should have never made you feel--” He grit his teeth, calmed his voice. There was no part of him that wanted Jon to interpret his anger at himself as anger pointed towards him. “Please, if I do this again. Please, love.” For a moment Jon looked like he wanted to argue and Martin tugged him into an embrace, overjoyed when it was returned, his response muffled in his jumper.

“Alright.”

#I'm still working on prompts #don't worry!#tma #the magnus archives #hurt comfort #jmart #jonmartin #statement sick #statement hunger #starvation #miscommunication #unreliable narrator #sickfic #sick jon #guilt #pain #scars #jon's grandma sucked

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idealnreal · 4 years ago

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Maruki palace overanalysis part III

Thanks to @appleyjuiceboy for helping with the insanity, and @goalexstark for requesting. Part I, Part II. Really long post ahead. Lots of feels.

Back into the palace monitoring room, the cables are gone. From this point on, we will encounter six journal pages, four memory rooms, and three will seeds. According to Morgana, Maruki likely never intended the memories to be seen. Will seeds are mini treasures -- aka sources of distortion. While the journal pages, like all diaries, are meant to be private. We have come to the depths of his psyche-- perhaps manifesting beliefs that he is not fully conscious of, or tries to keep hidden from others. And in this second-third of the palace (starting from the cables to the garden puzzle) we also see his systematic view of the world in full force. This will be a long post.

So starting with this first part, we come to a dimly lit corridor with similarly dimly lit rooms full of filing cabinets and mini monitoring rooms with circular stations. In one of the filing cabinet rooms, we find the first journal entry. Before we get into the text, it’s interesting to note that the journals are signified by a mess of papers strewn about, with the metaverse logo sorta watermarked over it. We will see the same sort of mess again in the memory rooms. For someone who is quite calm, organised and systematic, these messes always signal something important or emotional for him. One can imagine Maruki, flustered and upset, searching for something, throwing the papers around.

The first journal entry is found sticking out of some filing drawer. The text is as follows:

“ Feb. 2. Tomorrow is Rumi’s birthday. I’ll be meeting her parents … My hands have been shaking an awful lot lately. Will they let their daughter marry a low-level researcher like me? Now I’m getting even more anxious… When I told Rumi how nervous I’m getting, she just laughed and said I think too much. She may not have understood my problem, but I do so love her laugh. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep with my nerves like this, but I need to lie down anyway. I’ve been getting the worst headaches lately… I might be pushing myself too hard for this thesis. I just really want to be in top form tomorrow. I know this diary was originally just for research notes, but now I hope I can look back at it with Rumi someday and feel nostalgic.”

When Maruki set the February 3rd deadline, he said that this was the day “ I lost everything that mattered to me,”. Rumi and her parents were attacked on the night of her birthday, and on the night they announced their engagement to her parents. The night that was supposed to be happy and full of hope for the future became the worst possible night of his life.

Maruki seems to suffer from some anxiety -- but of course any person would have nerves before announcing an engagement. He’s worried that he isn’t good enough for Rumi or her parents. That they wouldn’t accept him as a son-in-law, or as part of the family because of his occupation and standing.

It also seems that even at this point, he has started to awaken to his persona, with the headaches and shaking hands. This is interesting because within this game’s logic the person needs to have at least some interaction with the Metaverse and have a will of rebellion to awaken to their persona -- or to even start awakening to it. He was already working on cognitive pscience at this point, and he was aware of the potential benefits of it’s use -- as a form of psychiatric therapy. He was already rejecting the status quo of life and of his field -- there was another way, a more effective way, to heal people. And it’s also possible that this note is hinting that he has had some fleeting interaction with the Metaverse. Afterall, we see that people who first enter the Metaverse experience headaches. But the game doesn’t give any more hints on this.

The second journal note is also within the same area, near what looks to be some kind of video tape archive. The note reads:

“ Apr. 9. I just can’t believe what’s happened. I’ll never see Rumi’s parents again… I don’t even know if Rumi will ever come back to me. Her heart’s been completely closed off ever since that day. Why did this happen? What did Rumi do to deserve this? Do we really have to go on suffering these consequences? My headaches are getting worse -- I’m even starting to hear things. Am I having some kind of breakdown? I can’t lose it … I have to do something to help Rumi.”

This entry is dated two months after the incident. We don’t see any entry in between, or any hint or any other expansion into what really happened during the incident. As far as we are told by Maruki himself is that it was a burglary that killed two people and maimed a third. Which to me, is highly suspicious. Burglars would not kill, not even when they are desperate. And it’s even more unlikely in Japan with one of the world’s lowest murder rates.

We know for a fact that Maruki tends to lie or wave away details when it comes to his own past and own feelings. Like when Ryuji asked him if highschool is when he first found romance, and when Maruki said that he and Rumi just broke up because he was ‘spineless’. I suspect there is a lot more about this incident that Maruki isn’t admitting to us-- but neither the palace nor the game ever explains it. (I have a theory, but that’s for another day).

If there is more to it than a burglary, it’s very likely that he’s suppressed it so much and hid it away somewhere that we never get to access. It’s also telling that all references to the incident are all in relation to Rumi’s pain and how it was she who suffered that night. He never even admits that he too lost something that night, and is still suffering from the trauma.

So the two months between the entries as well as the opening two lines, also signal that he was indeed traumatised by it. It’s not hard to imagine that in those two months, he couldn’t process what happened, and even by April, he still questions accepting reality. He also thinks that he’s having a breakdown -- and one doesn’t need to be a psychiatrist to know that when one starts having auditory hallucinations, it means something is really wrong in the brain department. Of course, we can infer that these hallucinations are Azathoth trying to manifest, but as far as Maruki knew, he was indeed losing it. But he forces himself to pull it together, to suppress this pain and to hide his symptoms, for Rumi -- and for his research.

It is likely that he avoided getting help or admitting that he was suffering from migraines and hallucinations. The chances of his research being funded, accepted, and published, all hinges on his reputation as a researcher. And unfortunately, as much as Japan has come a long way -- it is still detrimental to any professional to be diagnosed with a mental disorder. We also know that at this point he was already looking for funders and backers for his research -- reputation becomes everything.

We come to a room that looks like a server room, and this is where his first will seed is. The server room is a mess of tendrils and cables -- while the door itself is barred by a holographic lock, and some branch-like tendrils. The ‘flower’ looking textures that surround the door are holograms again of what looks like circuits.

Voice tracks will usually play upon opening a will seed door, which is usually the palace ruler reinforcing their distortion, and Maruki’s voice track is one of the more audible ones. The tracks will play randomly for each door, so there’s no order to things. Thanks to Jester for making out what they say:

“R-Rumi… I-I…”

“No matter what I need to do… I’ll reach my goal.”

“What can I do to make you understand?”

“What’s wrong with an alternate reality if everyone is happy?”

“I’m so close… just a little further…!”

“Just a little more… and everyone will be happy…”

“Why… why can’t we come to an agreement…?”

The man is tired, and he’s pushing himself to keep going. Some of the tracks are also questions, probably in response to Joker and the Phantom Thieves, trying to reason with them.

Moving on from this, we find more monitoring rooms, with lots of screens, cables, and glass floors that look down into what looks to be server rooms. The rooms are typically dark, illuminated only by the neon teal lights and screens.

We also then come across the first locked gate, with an authentication question. The fact that these gates require the intruder to at the very least know some parts of his past -- signify that he does want people to understand him and where he’s coming from, as uncomfortable as it is. This is especially important given how closed off he was about his past prior to this-- represented by the fact that the only way you can get these answers is watching memory tapes that, according to Morgana, are likely memories he has tried to suppress. Speaking of which…

Before we go into the memory itself, I want to note the design of these rooms. As highlighted before, messes like strewn paper, disorganised shelves, represent something emotional or upsetting for him. And no better is that demonstrated than in these memory rooms. Papers are strewn, filing boxes and books are stacked haphazardly, filing baskets and stools lay toppled. There is no clear organisation or consistency in these rooms -- and it looks as if someone had come in, thrown everything around, as if searching.

These rooms look very old-school research rooms and are lit only by an old CRTV -- in direct contrast to the high-tech aesthetic the rest of the palace has. And most of all these rooms look abandoned and forgotten. These rooms hint at the core of his self -- before he became obsessed with healing the world, the self that was confused and lost after the Incident.

It’s also interesting to note the fact that his memories play on the very small CRTV -- while in comparison earlier Sumire’s memories played on a wide screen LCD TV. He puts even more distance with his own (grainy) memories than the memories of someone else.

Okay, now we get to the first memory tape.

It starts off in Rumi’s hospital room. And from a later journal entry, we know that this is at least sometime in August, which means its been six months since the Incident, and four months since Takuto began to write in his journal again. Rumi is in a catatonic state, and it seems that she is somewhat responsive -- even if she can’t speak or move much.

Takuto is trying to cheer her up by suggesting that he bring her snacks and flowers. His tone is cheerful and gentle, knowing that Rumi can understand him -- but is simply unable to respond or speak. He knows she’s traumatised, so much to a point that she’s too scared to move. He’s trying to show her that it’s safe, and most importantly, that he’s there for her. Being an empath, loving her as much as he does -- this would’ve been incredibly painful for him. But for her sake, he tries to smile.

He then goes into telling her what’s been going on in his life, and explaining his research and how he wants to use it. From this, we know at least one of the first uses he envisioned for cognitive pscience was to stop crime before it’s committed, by changing distorted cognitions that lead people to doing bad things. He wants to make sure what happened to Rumi would never happen to anyone else. This is perhaps going one step further than what the PT are doing. Yes they’re both stopping criminals, but in Takuto’s conception -- it’s stopping crimes before there are any victims, rather than waiting for victims to be created.

He also tells her that there are some potential investors into his research, and that theres a chance that research into cognitive pscience will be properly funded. He’s excited for it because it is the first step to bringing cognitive pscience into real practical use. This also hints that at least for the past few months, he’s been working on his research again -- and trying to hide his symptoms (re: hallucinations, migraines) because he’s actively looking for funders.

He tells her that the ‘culprit’ has been caught and that she doesn’t need to worry anymore. He then mentions ‘Family’, and Rumi responds to that, repeating ‘Family’, then ‘Takuto’. As far as we can tell, these together seem to be her triggers -- and she’s sent into a PTSD episode. She yells for her parents to be given back, and cries out for them. Takuto tries to calm her down, but is unable to until the nurses arrive and (probably) sedate her.

This is another hint that the Incident was more than a simple burglary -- and somehow Takuto was more involved in the Incident than simply a bystander who couldn’t protect her when the burglar ‘was trying to escape’. And it’s also suggested that during this Incident, Rumi’s parents were being held -- perhaps as hostages?

I have a theory that the Incident was really more of an attempted assassination of Takuto -- very likely by Shido (who we know does know of Takuto’s research). While we don’t know the exact years the Incident took place -- from the journal notes, we can safely say its AT LEAST two years prior to the start of the game. I would go further to say that this was before Wakaba’s death or even Goro’s awakening, because it seems that Shido doesn’t yet have the power to cause mental shutdowns. And because of that, he’s would try the old fashioned way to shut Takuto’s research down.

However, instead of killing Takuto, Rumi and her parents suffered. It’s also interesting to note --IF this theory is true -- why Takuto was left alive. But thats pure hc territory which i’ll leave for another time.

Also another hint to support this is basically other hints that Takuto -- like Sumire-- suffers from survivor’s guilt. He even mentions it when speaking to Joker and Goro in the beginning of the palace. It’s also hinted by the fact that Takuto has managed to change Sumire’s cognition so drastically that even he was surprised. This was because of how she spoke, and how she suffered from intense survivor’s guilt. But i’ll get into this more when we get to the third memory tape.

The doctor explains to Takuto that she was triggered, and Takuto knew that it was his own words that triggered her. He apologised for it -- and muses that she needs to be ‘set free from that horrible tragedy’. It’s at this point that his migraines return and he hears a voice. Then, Rumi starts to speak, “Takuto … Please… Stop this. I … Want to… forget,”

Rumi made her wish, and Takuto began to understand how exactly cognitive pscience can make that possible. And again, he hears the voice, clearer this time -- enough for him to understand and respond to it. In that moment, desperate to put an end to Rumi’s pain, to fulfil her wish -- he agrees to Azathoth (perhaps forming a contract and semi-awakening to Azathoth). In the Japanese audio version, he actually screams this part. Oof.

In an instant, her cognition is changed and she wakes up as a different Rumi -- a Rumi who’s parents had died when she was young, who lived with her grandparents, and therefore, a Rumi who has never met or grown up with Takuto. She’s forgotten everything that caused her pain before.

Takuto, shocked at this, begins to fumble around for a cover story -- trying to explain to this new Rumi why he was in her room and why he knew her name. Despite the dawning realisation that she has truly forgotten him, he tries to be cheerful and plays it off when she shows concern for him. He would do anything to make her happy, and anything to preserve her happiness, even if it is horribly painful for him.

The interaction ends when Rumi asks why he won’t be visiting again and “what about your girlfriend?”, and he replies by “She … passed away,” In this moment, Rumi’s portrait disappears from the text box -- signifying a stark break in Takuto’s perception of her. The Rumi he knew and loved really has passed away, and this -- he convinces himself-- is another Rumi. A Rumi that he must not see again.

He stands to leave, telling her that he hopes she feels better soon and “ I know the people who care about you wish the same”.

So for him, just as his life was starting to get back together after the literal worst night ever -- just as his research was starting to get funders -- he loses his fiance and long time love. This follows the same pattern as before, where the night of the incident was supposed to be a happy night where their engagement is announced, followed by a horrible attack and murder (possible assassination attempt on his life too). But that’s allright, hes NOT in pain!!! and suspicious of any good thing that comes his way!! because now, she can be happy. And that was more important than his own happiness!!!

Oof. Okay this got long and heavy. Gonna end this here ! Stay tuned for part 4.

#grief tw #depression tw #takuto maruki #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #(( me: looks at this post #(( i've outdone myself my insanity over this fictional character has officially gained sentience #(( no but really theres SO MUCH PAIN HOLY SHIT #p5r spoilers #f: notes #c: the self #(( RIP to my brainrot

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wordsfromthesol · 5 years ago

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Meet Cute

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Your late night thesis work leads you to meet the ever-charming Dick Grayson. Warnings: Language, implied smut Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I was just remembering my long nights at Starbucks while writing my thesis…and thought of this. A thesis is basically a super long and excruciating research paper you have to write to get a post-graduate degree, for any of those unaware of the term!

All you had wanted was a peaceful night. You knew you could make your next thesis deadline without any all-nighters, as long as you didn’t run into any major problems. Though it seemed the universe just wanted to challenge you. It was pushing midnight, and though Starbucks closed almost an hour prior, your frequent long nights at the coffeehouse allowed for friendships to form. You often stayed while the workers did there closing duties, and tonight was no different. All the baristas had stumbled into the back to finish working when a man clad in a black and blue suit crashed through the storefront window. You watched in awe as he slid back into the counter, trying to cover his head. Another much bigger man staggered in through the new opening.

Both men seemed completely unaware of your presence, as the larger man drew nearer to his foe…still incapacitated on the floor. Without thinking, you picked up your laptop and slammed it into the back of his head. You watched as he slowly began turning towards you, that is, until you once again cracked the computer against his face. He collapsed backwards just as the man clad in spandex regained his composure and jumped to his feet.

You just stood there in shock. I can’t believe I did that. All my work, all my programs, how am I going to finish now? You glanced down at your hands, still clutching the remnants of your laptop, and then up again at the stranger.

He looked back at you noting the panic spread across your face, “Hey hey hey, it’s alright. It’s over.”

You realized he was trying to calm you down for all the wrong reasons. The emotion written on your face was not caused by the man laying unconscious before you, but the realization that anything you had not saved prior to your thoughtlessness was gone. The realization that all the programs you had bought to conduct your analyses were gone. This was a problem that would take weeks of sleepless nights, as well as an ample amount of funds – which you did not have to spare – to fix. You looked down again at your computer, still unable to speak, and gathered your things. Leaving what was left of your computer behind, you got in your car and immediately drove home.

“Did she just…leave?” Dick asked himself in disbelief. He walked over to pick up the broken pieces of your computer, “maybe Timmy can fix this for her.” Quickly, he scooped it up and headed to the manor.

You got back to your apartment and couldn’t even make it to your bedroom. You immediately collapsed on your couch and stared into the darkness. Everything you had been working so hard for had come crashing down on you. Eventually you began running scenarios in your head, because what else could you do? Your presentation was in a week, and your thesis had to be approved by the committee even before that. You had planned to make the final touches today and tomorrow.

“Okay…think Y/N. You can open programs on the school computers, but they would be read-only since the school only has the student license. Then if I printed them, they would have that stupid ‘student version’ watermark.” You stood up and began to pace in your living room. “Okay, well maybe I won’t need to make changes to my analyses…that will just depend on the committee review. So, how do I get into the program I was using to actually format my thesis?” You sat back down, trying to think of someone who could help. Eventually, you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you know you an unfamiliar sound jogged you awake. Quietly you reached over to the end table and picked up an empty glass, hurling it towards the figure. You ran to turn on the light and noticed it was the same stranger, clad in that spandex suit.

He sat up on the floor and grabbed the back of his head, “I guess I kinda deserved that…though I have to say I’m surprised. Not many people can hear me coming, and even less have that kind of aim.”

“Sorry…I just…well…I live alone…and not in a great area.” You stuttered through your words, still unsure why this masked man was sitting in your living room. “Why, exactly, are you here?”

“Oh right! Well, you seemed kind of out of it earlier…and at first I thought, well duh, crazy people just crashed through the window. Then I realized you may have some important stuff you just lost on that computer, when you, ya’know smashed it into the other guy’s head.”

At the mention of your computer, you instantly froze up. Reading the signs strewn across your face, he continued, “Anyways, my brother is pretty good with the technology thing. He said he was able to recover everything.” Standing up, he picked up the brand-new computer which had landed next to him. “I hope I didn’t break it in the fall,” he chuckled as he handed you the new computer.

Normally, you would never be inclined to take such a gift. But, in this case you couldn’t see any other way around it. “I…I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” You moved to sit on the couch, “My thesis presentation is next week. I thought I was going to miss my deadline. You just saved my life…or at least my graduation date.” You smiled up at him.

The next week went by way too quickly, and you were at the school setting up your presentation. One by one your committee members filed in, but just as you were about to begin a stream of students came through the door. Great, more people to watch me stumble through this presentation.

Panic set into your mind as the teachers asked everyone, yourself included, to step out of the room so they could deliberate. This is normal, you knew this would happen. You started pacing in front of the door, when a man approached you. His brilliant blue eyes stared at you just a bit too long, before he spoke.

“Well I thought you did great.”

“Oh, you saw that? How, uhm, or why did you come?”

“It sounded interesting, so I thought I’d check it out! Clearly, a bunch of people thought so.” Mentioning the crowd of students that attended but leaving out the fact that he gave them each fifty bucks to attend. He couldn’t be the only non-committee member there, that would be a little suspicious.

“So do you…” you’re next sentence was cut off by the sound of the door opening. You smiled and nodded his way before heading back into the room. Well that was shitty timing.

“Congratulations! We are passing your presentation, but there are some changes and we would like to make to the analysis to help with comprehensibility.”

Dutifully you took notes, though this milestone was over, you still had work to do before you passed. Almost an hour had passed when you exited the room again, only to find the mysterious attendee sitting back on the bench. Excitedly, for more than one reason, you walked over.

“I did it! I passed! I never have to give that presentation again!” Why you were exclaiming such news to a stranger was beyond you, but it felt right.

“That’s fantastic! I had no doubts, Y/N. Celebratory drinks?”

“It’s ten in the morning…”

“Celebratory brunch?”

“Honestly, coffee sounds amazing.”

Dick was pleasantly surprised by your answer and motion for you to follow. “There’s this great place just up the street.”

Soon the dates grew more frequent and before you know it, over a year had passed. You came home late from work one night to find Dick sitting on your couch, enveloped in the tv.

“Using me for my cable again, Dick?”

“Whaa…” he put his hand to his chest, “Y/N, I would never.”

“Sure…oh I picked up Thai food, I got enough for you too.”

“You know me so well”

“It doesn’t hurt that your here nearly every night.”

“Yeah, about that…don’t you think it would be easier if I just, well, lived here?”

Slightly stunned, you stared at him, not realizing you had yet to answer.

“I mean, I don’t have…” You cut him off once your daze subsided.

“No, that would be great! I’m just surprised you brought it up.” I mean how is he going to hid the vigilante thing now?

Almost as if he read your mind, Dick continued, “There is one more thing you should probably know before you say yes.”

“Okay…what’s up?” You questioned, sitting on the couch next to him.

“I’m Nightwing.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Confusion spread across his face, so he decided that maybe you didn’t understand. “Like, the vigilante, the one from Starbucks, just before we met.”

“Yeah, Dick, I know.”

“But…but how?!”

“Dickie, come on. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Your ‘sickness’ comes whenever Nightwing appears on the news getting beat to shit. All the cuts and bruises.”

“When did you figure it out?”

“Like a month after we started dating,” the look on his face was priceless. You just shrugged and continued, “I asked around after my thesis. Students told me YOU paid them to watch it.”

A deep crimson spread across his face, and all you wanted to do was worsen it. “That, plus…who couldn’t recognize an ass like that.”

You let out a laugh as he pulled you on top of him. “I’m going to get you back for that Y/L/N.”

“Do your worst, Grayson.” You chuckled as he lifted the both of you up and carried you into the bedroom.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #dc imagine #batboys #batboys x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #batboys x you #fanfic

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mystiika · 4 years ago

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@shimmerseas continued from here.

a brochure has made it into Lyn’s hands, courtesy of an overeager saleswomen at this mall, trying to convince them to visit her establishment: a spa. something-something about a couples package, and they don’t really have the time to explain that it’s not... really what it looks like– they weren’t a couple couple– before she flitters off to someone else she sees as an easy target. ( just as well, though: maybe he doesn’t really want to explain that, anyway... ) Lyn unfurls the folded pages, though he can’t tell if it’s because she’s actually interested in spa’s, or just curious about the flyer that’s been so aggressively pawned off on her. either way, he peers over her shoulder to peep it, too– not minding the excuse to be this close to her, close enough to pick up a hint of her shampoo... not minding it all. he has to snort when he sees it, though: the design choices of this ad were wildly outdated; the high dollar prices of the package were in boldface comic sans, and there was use of obvious stock images ( with a large watermark included. ) “ looks like someone designed this on microsoft paint... before we were born. ” clearly, their expensive prices weren’t paying a graphic designer’s salary...

his amusement halts with her reply, though... eyes turn away from the paper to look at her face, still from a convenient vantage point over her shoulder: convenient because she can’t see the change in demeanor, suddenly much more intently interested in Phaelyn – in particular, kind of curious about what the last two words of that sentence entails, for her – than he is in the paper. “ do you want to go? ” it was pricey, but... if it made her feel good, worth it, obviously.

on the other hand, he’s not really seeing anything in these pictures that someone couldn’t do at home, so it’s kind of weird. “ couldn’t you do all that for free, right now? ” not that he wants to discourage her from taking a spa-day: he just genuinely has no idea, never having been to any sort of luxury resort like that. baths and candles and a relaxation playlist, she surely already owns, and massages... well, he wouldn’t charge for it, that’s for sure, and he doubts he’s the only one. OF COURSE, he wasn’t going to say that, because offering a massage to your friend who you have a secret crush on is not just weird and a creep move, but also a terrible idea overall – almost guaranteed to end in awkwardness and the end of the ‘secret’ part of that crush... big oof. he’s wandered off to look at her from a more safe distance now, taking a sip of his drink from the food court, very casual. ( or so he tries to be. ) “ 'no-one in your DM’s you like that much? ” there must be someone who likes her that much, at least: who wouldn’t want to shoot their shot with Lyn? still, it’s posed like nothing more than the question of a nosy friend, prying into her love life, because that’s what friends do! of course... why else would he want to know if there’s someone she’s interested in... ?

she’d watched from a few steps away as the stranger badgered the pamphlet into tida’s hands, almost amused by the interaction. she began to wonder if she should intervene & pull tida away from the situation but before she could make a decision either way, he was released from the conversation, almost rushing to pass the paper off to her. it’s upside down when she receives it, quickly flipping it before pulling it open to take in the rather... questionable design choices. she’s only half paying attention though, his proximity poses a distraction unbeknownst to him. phaelyn is left to fight off the thoughts on her own, though maybe she leans a little bit towards him, to stand a little closer. but almost definitely just to make it easier for him to read from where he peered over her shoulder. it wasn’t at all the fact she wanted to stand near him. she bites her lips as means for a distraction, unwillingly to delve further into just why she was acting the way she was but between the swirling thoughts that result she manages to go out a quick, ❝ yeah that sounds about right. ❞ the agreement is accompanied with a suppressed smile, not quite wanting to show it as the result of a mean comment but it couldn’t be helped. the point was painfully accurate.

❝ i don’t know about going, it doesn’t exactly seem... financially worth it? ❞ it’s posed as a question but it’s more of a statement than anything. she couldn’t imagine spending that kind of money on a spa ( whether it lived up to the rather seemingly hyperbolic claims or not ).

she presses per lips together in an attempt to stifle the coming laugh but fails miserably. ❝ yeah... i don’t really check my dms, nothing good ever comes of it. ❞ ( but that’s a can of worms she has no interest in opening up ). ❝ —but what do you mean right now? ❞ it’s a valid question. the idea that it was stuff that could be done at home was one thing, but the time implication was something that stuck out as an odd choice of words, at least in her mind. ❝ are you some sort of secret masseuse? ❞

#god the idea of tida challenging one of her simps to a duel.... iconic #shimmerseas #❘❙❚ ┊ l. chanthara. v. 2 ➳ ❛ there’s no way to be a perfect mother & a million ways to be a good one ❜

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kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 3 years ago

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Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 - Harada Sakura Epilogue

This is my first post of the month, so I’ll start by asking you to please support me if you can through my ko-fi, and paypal or patreon which provides access to my hakuoki blog translations and early access to my postings. Also, please let me know if you have any hakuoki drama cds that you’d be willing to share that are on my Lookout List since i either do not have audio for those cds or do not have audio that I can share…. and if you are able to remove watermarks from a video, please contact me….

Well it’s Canada Day. Hope everyone is staying safe during this time (especially if you’re out West with the heat), and while I could probably write an essay about how I can understand why people will take issue of fireworks and parties today, I don’t exactly think that’s the best way to address the issues going on, though I do feel somewhat compelled to say something. I mean, I’m of an ethnic descent where the immigrants of my common ancestry were subjected to a head tax and were actively targeted by the government for discrimination, so I do have some historical justification for not wanting this particular day celebrated. However, at the same time, it’s because I acknowledge that more than one generation of my family (and on both sides of my family tree) immigrated to this country that my family and relatives have been given opportunities none of us would have had otherwise, or have had the same rights, that I truly appreciate living in Canada, and I know that other people will have similar reasons for doing the same... which is also why I refuse to be an ignorant citizen. I guess that’s partially owed to how I acknowledge that I’m realistic in knowing what change I can affect, but beyond that, I do see it is part of my civic duty to be educated about what happens in the country I live in because I just can’t pretend that everything is all sunshine and rainbows... So, today, like most of the other Canada Days I can recall, I reflect on how grateful I am to be a citizen of the country I call home, and how thankful I am in knowing how far it has come, but I also acknowledge that it still has plenty of flaws and that there are things that still need to be changed so the country is better for “all of us” instead of just ‘some of us’.

Anyway, this month’s translations are all from Yuugiroku 2.... and this is is my only translation of 『恋秘めし日』 content since I was never able to find any more of these as copy-able text.

Also, on a lighter note, i can’t believe it’s been more than a decade since i actually watched an anime. i mean, i’m normally satisfied with just reading the manga for something, but my cravings for yuumori content actually drove me to the anime (mostly good and while it was full of feels, im upset that IG cut out the adventure of one student from the anime)... which feels somewhat odd when i consider how ive yet to watch the hakuoki anime or movies. still, for hakuoki, my desire for more content did lead to 2 years of translating lol.

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 - Harada Sakura Epilogue

Translation by KumoriYami

At the end of our conversation, I took a light breath and raised my head.

A gust of wind then blew, and the leaves over our heads made rustling sounds.

Chizuru: The sunlight is very strong today.

Harada: Yeah. It's nice that the weather's finally cleared up, but...... the hot weather in Kyoto, and this moisture really feels unbearable.

Chizuru: That's true......

As I spoke, I turned my gaze back towards Harada-san......

Chizuru: Ah......

This numbness in my head felt like an illusion.

Was it because I spent so long talking under such fierce sunlight.

I seemed to be feeling a bit dizzy.

Harada: Hey, are you okay? You don't look very good. Are you feeling unwell/sick / Do you feel sick/unwell? ?

Chizuru: I-I'm fine. I just feel a bit cold......

I didn’t want him to feel worried, so I responded with a smile/smiled as I answered——.

My legs however seemed to have lost their strength, and the view in front of me/everything around me began to blur.

Just as I was about to fall and hit the ground.

Harada: Oi, Chizuru, get a hold of yourself!

My swaying body was caught by a pair of strong hands.

Then in that moment/A moment later——.

Suddenly, Harada-san's face became incredibly closer to mine

Manly eyebrows, slender eyes, and even each individual eyelash could be seen at his distance.

Due to how sudden this was, I couldn't say anything as/while my mouth/lips trembled/ and only my mouth was opening and closing/mouth was in a state of opening and closing.

The heat from where our foreheads were touching, and how Harada-san's hand was touching my back were the only things that I was completely aware of.

Harada:......For now, let's check your temperature...... Nn.

Chizuru: Wh-What, Harada-san...... what are you doing......!

I felt/was so embarrassed and could only/was only able to squeeze out that one sentence.

Harada: Recently, a cold’s been going around headquarters. I'm worried that you might have caught/gotten it/infected by it/with it.

Chizuru: Is, is that so......

Harada-san did that because he was worried about me......

Chizuru: Um, Harada-san. I feel fine/I'm [feeling] fine, so......

Harada-san's expression however became very serious, and he spoke harshly/rebukingly.

Harada: What a stupid thing to say. What are you going to do if you get sick/If you get sick, what are you going to do? Although there's a saying about how doctors don't pay attention to their own health...... it wouldn't be funny if you got sick, as the daughter of a doctor. Besides, if you get sick, you might also pass it on to the others warriors.

That's true...... I couldn't bear to trouble the other warriors with my problems.

Chizuru:......I'm sorry, Harada-san.

I closed my eyes and desperately tried to supress my embarrassment as I allowed Harada-san to continue.

His forehead remained against mine for a while as he checked my temperature, and finally/but eventually......

Harada:......I'm done, Chizuru. You don't seem to have a fever, and you can open your eyes now.

Harada-san spoke softly as he gently brushed my forehead with his fingers.

Harada: For now, you don't seem to have a cold, so don't worry. As long as you get sufficient rest, you should get better."

Chizuru: I, I see/Ye-Yes. Thank you......

I felt incredibly embarrassed...... I didn't dare look at Harada-san as I bowed my head in thanks.

Then, he showed a deliberate and teasing smile——.

Harada:......But why do you seem to be hotter now than before I took your temperature?

Chizuru: Th-That's because......!

Despite how he clearly knew the reason, he deliberately asked me such a nasty question......

I didn't know how to answer that, so/and I lowered head as I continued blushing/to blush.

Harada: Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to tease you on purpose.

As he spoke, he put his large palm on top of my head.

Harada:.......Is it time for us to head back now? I don't know if you've been instructed to do anything/told to do something.

I......

continued chatting

brought this to an end <-

Chizuru: We've been talking for a while, so it should be time to return to to headquarters.

Harada: That's true/right. Though, I wish we could still continue this.

However, is it okay for you to go back to headquarters like this? Your entire face is very red.

Chizuru: It, it should get back to normal by the time we return to headquarters..... Can we take a small detour? My face/complexion should be back to normal after that.

Harada: Well, that might true. But I don't want to see getting dizzy again. So don't force yourself/overdo it.

Chizuru: So-Sorry......

Harada: Don't worry about it. If you’re having a hard time, you can hold onto me

As Harada-san spoke, he stroked my hair.

Harada: Then let's go back to headquarters, Chizuru. Everyone will be/is waiting for us.

Chizuru:......Yes.

While listening to my still intensely beating heart, Harada-san and I started walking back to headquarters.

-end-

one of these days, I am going to go watch the new Shaman King anime... though im not sure when that’ll be.

also... for the record, I learned about the Sixties Scoop and residential schools sometime around 2004, when i was still in elementary school so I can unfortunately say that most of the news these days hasn’t really surprised me... and it’s also why I have a very negative bias towards certain entities.

#Hakuoki #hakuouki #hakuoki game translation #hakuoki yuugiroku 2 #harada sanosuke #Yukimura Chizuru

15 notes · View notes

hwallout · 5 years ago

Text

our little secret (iii) - csy

summary: as a CEO of one of the country’s most powerful companies, you had your secrets to success. no one ever gained power without ruthless, filthy and unfair play, it’s all okay if no one knows right? well, what happens when your little secrets fall into the hands of someone you can’t get rid of that easily?

words: 7,6k

genre: angst, drama, future smut

warnings: language

early an: feedback really appreciated! please let me know what you think of this! THERE IS A READ MORE BUTTON

[part one]

[part two]

[part four]

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

How could speculations like that arise so fast? How could someone write such a scandalous article without knowing the truth? Shouldn’t they know it’s harmful to both sides, including their own agencies?

There were so many questions that you weren’t sure anyone had the time nor bothered enough to answer. What you were sure about though, was that money can and will once again shut all of this down.

Without any more thought and effort to check the picture sources, you turned to Eunha in a panicked manner. The female still had her head hanging low, hands nervously shuffling and pinching the material of a tight black skirt. You frowned, dissatisfied with seeing the assistant like this. Eunha had a name, high position, and pride to withhold, so it wasn’t exactly clear as to why she was so affected by a pitiful heir.

“Eunha, make sure all of-” Your voice was loud and clear, with no hints of doubt or hesitance. Seungyoun still stood towering over your sitting form, but his broad frame didn’t succeed to daunt this time. Maybe it was because you’ve been so shocked by the news or determined to get rid of them, that the existence of the other didn’t quite matter at given moment.

Although, you somehow forgot something just then. Seungyoun was Mr.Cho’s descendant. He learned how to be a step ahead of the opponent.

“Eunha?” Seungyoun’s authoritative voice echoed through the room. It managed to overpower yours and the male smirked upon realizing that. With a scoff you leaned back slightly, watching the male avert his gaze on the assistant. Eunha immediately turned to face the heir, flinching slightly after hearing her name called in such a tone. Seungyoun continued.

“Out. Leave” He pointed towards the door and you weren’t quick enough to stand up and stop the female from leaving. It was as if Eunha waited for that exact command, already up and storming out of your office. The tablet fell out of her shaking hands, but she didn’t dare turn around to pick it up and just left it laying in place. The door closed with a loud thud.

“That’s not a way to talk to my employees!” Finally alone, you suddenly yelled at Seungyoun. You stood up and mirrored his pose, arms straight and palms outstretched on the expensive desk. There were evident anger and annoyance on your face, but the other seemed not to care. No, Seungyoun turned around, his hooded eyes locking with yours, eliciting a burning fire.

Without a word, the heir held your gaze intently and walked around the desk, coming over to where you were standing. He leaned against the strong object, crossing his legs. Seungyoun’s composed and calculated demeanor once again reeked of dominance and situational control. You felt pressured to listen to what he had to say next.

“You’re not shutting any of those down, darling” Seungyoun said, never once looking away from the target. His breath was calm, chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. Same couldn’t be said for the female, irregular heartbeat causing shorter and inconsistent breaths. If human ears could produce smoke, yours probably would.

“We’re going to do this properly” As if Seungyoun expected the upcoming burst, his hands silently intertwined with each other, resting on his thighs. With head slightly cocked to the side, the male took a deep breath as you moved.

“Oh, we are” You insisted, walking just two steps so your feet were almost touching his. The tension was thick but with a reason. It was unusual; having Seungyoun so calm next to a fuming figure, his cool and composed self, next to a hot and bothered female. “We’re going to do this the best possible way”

“But first off, let me repeat myself. That was not the way to talk to my employee. My assistant at that. As much as I’m informed, she could be more qualified than you” You began. At that point, it was possible to feel burns of the poisonous words. Seungyoun’s lips twitched something that almost resembled a frown before they were back to their previous position.

“I have never once been involved in a scandal of any kind, let alone one that concerns my love life. I’d like it if stayed that way, or at least if I had your name wiped off my record” Continuing, you watched Seungyoun’s cool demeanor slowly break down, especially through the way his jaw clenched.

“This” You turned around and finally picked the little device up, scrolling down where the three pictures were displayed. Tapping a nail on the screen as if to gain his attention, the speech resumed. “This right here...wait”

Your eye managed to catch onto the little watermark in the bottom left corner. With white and navy-blue stylized letters, it showcased the initials of StarLight. You looked at Seungyoun in pure disbelief.

“I should’ve known! How fucking dare you!” Although wanting to throw the phone away to the other side of the office, you controlled the overwhelming wave of emotions. Putting it down on the desk slowly, you breathed steadily, eyes closing for a few seconds. It was too much to take at once, all while having too little time to think.

StarLight, one of the main press photo agencies of the country. In fact, StarLight was the 2nd on the list and estimated to move to the 1st spot in the next couple of months. It hired only the best of people, those flexible enough and even able to sneak into dangerous situations to get enough content for the press/news articles. It wasn’t surprising that they paid extremely well, considering the circumstances they put their employees in.

StarLight, also one of the most powerful agencies that Cho enterprise managed to acquire a year ago.

“Listen” Seungyoun interrupted the silence, along with your calm state of mind. Your eyes opened and there was another, new fire burning inside. You felt defeated but still had the awakening willpower to continue fighting.

“What’s there to listen to? You just keep wanting to ruin me, don’t you? Then go on. Go show everyone what a good boy you are and-”

In the middle of your blabbering, Seungyoun distanced himself from the desk and in one swift motion pulled you in for a kiss. One of his hands latched onto your waist, while the other moved to the back of your head. Holding on lightly, he didn't put on much pressure. Just like before, the male was allowing freedom and control of movement. Seungyoun smirked when he felt you kissing back.

The feeling of his lips on yours was intoxicating, the touch of his hands burning even through thick pieces of cloth. Seungyoun’s smell of expensive Gucci perfume filled the small bubble of air around you, probably sticking to the material of your blazer too. You wouldn’t mind, but never admit wanting to smell like the heir.

Just when your hands were starting to move up, Seungyoun took a step back, effectively breaking the kiss. He turned around and strolled towards the leather couch not so far away. That way, the other spared you from witnessing the confident and cocky smirk on his lips.

With thoughts all over the place, the sensation from before was still present. A hand instinctively came up to brush at the soft skin of your lips, trying to cool away the burning patches. Silence.

“If I knew that’s all it takes to shut you up, I would’ve done it sooner” Seungyoun’s tone was monotone, without any specific emotion lingering on his words. He sat down on the couch, legs immediately crossing and hands neatly placed on his lap.

“Now be a good girl and listen, okay?” His commands, although said without much authority, set something off in your head. Nodding obediently and approaching to sit across from him, you watched the heir with utmost attention.

“This isn’t a joke. In fact, it’s an important chance I’ve made for you to take. I’m a calculated and precise man. Although it’s hard to admit, I’m sure you’re aware of that” Seungyoun started, slowly introducing the whole topic in a way that many businessmen did. He attempted to make the whole ordeal sound trustful, while also trying to label it as a one-of-a-kind situation.

“Cho enterprise and INVICTA have their shared, as well as own partners. By those, I mean experienced, powerful and well-known agencies that both establishments seek for. I’m sure that your company, as well as mine, strives towards increasing the number of associates day by day. Am I right?”

Seungyoun spoke carefully and slowly, aware of the fact that your mind might still be a little cloudy. Receiving a nod, he continued talking.

“A lot of eyes are following our steps meticulously, watching over the development of our project. Once it’s done and our companies prove their power for the nth time, we will be swarmed. I’m speaking hundreds of possible partners knocking on our doors”

“They’re always trying to find a way to contact and work with one of us, most are scared to be caught in a crossfire. Imagine if that crossfire didn’t exist, just imagine what we could do together”

The male shifted and leaned in, elbows now resting on top of his knees. With such posture, Seungyoun seemed much more serious. His breathing quickened and words seemed much lighter.

“Think about how many agencies we could have a chance to work with through this. You’d get to meet new people through the somewhat open meetings Cho enterprise organizes, I’d take you there, and you could bring me to the parties INVICTA throws. That way we show them that both of us are open for cooperation at any time”

Throughout the whole speech, you nodded along, agreeing with everything said. Alas, there was always that slightest bit of hesitance in your being that you weren’t able to get rid of. And maybe you really shouldn’t. The whole deal was too sudden, yet it seemed that the heir was expecting an immediate answer. Was there even an option to think about it? Or to deny? Acting impulsively was never the right thing. You needed time.

“Now, of course, there’s the gossip media and people wanting to constantly invade privacy. They’ll only help make this whole thing more believable” That only rang another alarm in your head, one more point that had to be argumented to the other.

“That means we have to show in public together...”

“Not for long. Let’s make a deal. We’ll go out occasionally, to Halo Garden or Angel Den, we own those don’t we? We’ll choose a secluded corner and from there you’ll be able to focus on your work, I won’t bother you. I can even leave to another table, they won’t see” Seungyoun’s voice sounded different at the last part. Almost as if having to say that somehow affected him. You thought it wasn’t a big deal – one could always use some work time in a relaxing environment with indie music and a caramel latte.

“You could also visit my home” The heir blurted out, once again capturing full attention. Gulping, you looked at the other hesitantly, not sure how to react. Seungyoun’s lips pulled into a smile.

“Don’t think too much of it, you’ll only make it awkward for yourself”

Silence. You relaxed into the leather seat and threw your head back. With eyes locked on the white ceiling, you sighed out loud. The other wasn’t saying anything, probably because there wasn’t anything more to say. He patiently waited for an answer.

The door of the office opened but shut only a second later. Eunha’s heels sounded over the tiles outside.

“I need time to think”

“No”

“Then I can only refuse your offer” Tired eyes met with another expectant pair. It was only the beginning of a workday, yet you felt exhausted way over the limit. It was impossible how one person can drain so much energy from someone.

“That’s not going to happen” Seungyoun replied, annoyance bidding its hello through an undertone. It appeared that the male was easily worked up, which of course, you’ve been proven many times in the past.

“I planned this whole thing out perfectly? Why do you need to think about it?” He questioned. You stood up, cracking your fingers one by one while walking around the broad office. When right in front of the window, you overlooked the whole territory, allowing the beautiful view of a waking city to relax you. Seungyoun’s questions finally processed properly and for whatever reason, they happened to hit a certain spot.

“Because unlike you, I run my own company. I’m the CEO. I’m the head that has to think about the consequences. There’s no one behind me, or let alone above me. Someone who can pat me on the head and say ‘Don’t worry darling, daddy will take care of it’”

You moved to face him, but your legs didn’t take a step away from the previous position.

“Seungyoun, everything needs time to be thought about. Many ideas were believed to be great before they were put into action. World war one is a great example. I’m sure your education is high enough for you to understand that”

Seungyoun laughed with a pitiful face. From the moment he entered, maybe even from the day he hired a reporter to follow your interactions, Seungyoun knew how his plan would end. Just as mentioned, the male was a step ahead, purely because he was the one controlling the game. Sometimes, you’d be allowed the benefit of doubt, but all this time, Seungyoun was the one moving the pawns.

That thought was always forced in the back of your mind.

“It’s silly of you to think I came here to be rejected, sweetheart” Seungyoun stood up and approached you in three quick strides. With low voice, almost a whisper, his finger once again came up to hold your chin. Seungyoun hadn’t moved at all afterward, just watched your cheeks turn a bright shade of red. It was exceedingly hard for both to stay calm and composed, not lean in and feel the special sensation just once more.

The two faces started moving towards each other at an extremely slow pace. Then, as if hit by electricity, when only a breath away, Seungyoun stepped back, sighing and running a hand through his back hair. The movement effectively ruined his hairstyle, a few strands falling over the man’s forehead and making him just a tad bit more attractive.

Seungyoun took hold of a random paper from your desk, not caring that it just so happened to be an important list of your monthly profit, and scribbled something on it with a pen.

“I thought we’d come to an agreement easily, guess I was wrong” He tsked, already backing away from the desk and heading towards the exit. “Expect my call, or better, call me yourself. Don’t make me turn the media’s focus on Kang Byungho again”

Seungyoun didn’t leave any time for replies, for he was already out of the office, slamming the door behind with a wicked grin on his face. You approached the desk, throwing a peek at the scribbled set of numbers, immediately labeling them as a phone number.

Sitting down on the comfortable chair, you leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk and fingers gently massaging aching temples. With closed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, you tried to think about everything that led to this point in time. Everything that you managed to fuck up to end up being controlled by a pathetic heir.

This was actually the first time you’ve been threatened. Seungyoun wasn’t dumb, for he knew how to play and which information to use against you. If things weren’t going as planned, Seungyoun would unleash a piece by piece, never the whole story. He would want to see you break down slowly, to watch the country’s most powerful woman on her knees, trying to put a shattered glass back together. At least, that how you envisioned it.

Exactly why the male mentioned Kang Byungho was because he knew how much hassle you had taking care of the second theft. How much money went into hitmen and associates that were of high positions in courts, as well as police. Seungyoun saw it all, from the hidden receipts of money transferred between the source and the recipient, to the documents of illegally manipulated trials saved for possible blackmail.

As much as everyone in the industry, he was aware of Byungho’s importance as the main assistant of RELAY enterprise. The company had great potential and was doing astonishing work, slowly but surely climbing the chart. They were expected to someday reach first place – well, at least until that happened.

Byungho’s unexpected and clean murder that was thrown under the mat, managed to horribly disturb Lee Yuna – RELAY's CEO and also Kang Byungho’s long term best friend. The woman stepped down in a matter of two days, reasoning it by feeling unsafe and not mentally stable enough to continue her job.

It was morally correct to feel bad for her and the enterprise that crumbled down, but somehow you just didn’t care. As long as your own empire was safe.

Seungyoun knew that it only took two hours for you to locate the man, organize and execute his murder, call all the associates with authority and have the case closed before it was even opened. Still, that information was just one tiny piece of everything you held secure in the hidden database.

That’s how much potential the young man had. That’s how much his father owed him. Seungyoun would prove that all the degrading words thrown his way were never genuine. Seungyoun had raw power even over the most powerful.

Although there really wasn’t any reason, except for maybe extreme pity, the young man was up for negotiations.

And that’s exactly why there was no other choice than to save the numbers on the paper as a new contact.

As the day passed by, bits and pieces of free time allowed the mind to think about everything. At least, that’s what you thought.

The probability of Seungyoun expecting a call the moment he left your office was high, although that never happened. He probably envisioned you following his orders like a ‘good little girl’, but was unfortunately left disappointed. The heir didn’t insist though. There was no more pressure added to the already existing one, for he was well aware that you’d eventually follow his commands. If because of nothing else, then out of pure fear.

Somewhere around an hour before the work was completely done, you stood up and paced around the office, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable ache in your feet. The varnished heels were becoming a problem and you looked down, not quite understanding why they were still on.

Taking one, then the other off, you enjoyed walking barefoot on the cold floor. Pleasant change in temperature had you skipping around, seeking for new colder patches of the ground. Still, that wasn’t what intoxicated one’s mind the most, rather the still lingering scent of a Gucci perfume. Although it had been hours since the male left, Seungyoun still managed to overtake your senses and occupy your mind.

Looking out of the window seemed to only arise more worry. Seemingly under your feet, down on the street, formed a crowd of about fifty people. There were three black SUVs and loads of rushed humans chasing after the ones coming out of your company. Squinting, you managed to catch onto men carrying heavy cameras.

A huge gulp echoed throughout the room.

After hurriedly walking over to the desk, you picked the little phone up and dialed the recently saved number. It only rung twice before the person on the other side answered.

“Well hello th-”

“Seungyoun there are reporters outside and I don’t know how to engage them” You spat out quick, and in fear that the male hadn’t caught onto a single word, you were about to repeat. The heir suddenly spoke up.

“Okay, calm down. I can come pick you up” He seemed to have understood everything, which made you sigh in relief. There was shuffling on the other side, a chair squeaking and fingers working on a keyboard in an even rhythm. It took just a moment too long to process his words.

“Seungyoun I have my own car. I just don’t know what to say to them while I’m making my way towards it. They’ll fucking swarm me like wasps”

“Doesn’t INVICTA have an underground parking lot?” The male continued, now with decent amounts of surprise and confusion in his tone. It was true, this building, like many others in the area, had an underground parking lot serving its employees only. It was free, which the workers greatly appreciated, and it meant that public parking wouldn't be occupied all the time. Everyone used it, well, everyone except for you. Money wasn’t a problem and you didn’t want to lose time getting out of the underground, therefore you usually parked outside.

“I’m glad you know the blueprint of my company better than I do. I don’t park my car there, kind of disappointed you didn’t notice” Although it probably wasn’t the greatest time for it, you joked. Still, the man on the other side laughed, obviously entertained by the little remark.

“Oh, so the white Porsche was yours...” Seungyoun trailed off, hands once again back to working on the keyboard. He let the silence drag on for a few moments; unintentionally or not, you wouldn’t be sure. Tapping on the hard keys stopped; he resumed speaking. “Just rush through them. Get the security to follow you out and just don’t say anything. They’ll get their answers soon enough”

With a brief okay and goodbye, the call ended. Numerous papers on the desk suddenly became too much work and you sighed, turning around in the chair and looking out at the clear sky. A huge advantage of this office was that one of the walls was just pure glass. At every moment of the day, it offered a beautiful overlook one could really get lost in.

There was half an hour more to spend and your mind once again wandered off towards a certain tall and broad, black-haired man.

The next day, Eunha seemed reserved and shy, only talking when being spoken to or ordered around. She was hesitant with staying around for a longer period of time and even excused herself a couple of times for unknown reasons. Her behavior was completely different than before and it wasn’t a hard thing to notice. You expected the assistant to speak up alone, but when that didn’t happen, you decided to take the matter in your own hands.

“Eunha sit down” The voice you used wasn’t the one usually used on the smaller. The female stood up to leave for the nth time that day without saying anything and you had to do something. Upon hearing the command, Eunha stayed seated, hands immediately intertwining and gaze falling onto her lap.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, and the sudden change to a much more adoring tone seemed to surprise the other. She looked up to find you leaning forwards, soft gaze not meaning to intimidate.

Eunha has always been one of your most appreciated and hardworking employees, someone who you had deep respect and huge amounts of love for. Throughout these few years, she grew to be a close friend before everything else. Therefore, seeing her face full of discomfort deeply worried you.

The assistant took her time gathering every single thought before saying anything. She looked around the office, at all the decorations, the huge TV no one ever used, then papers on the table. Everywhere but the eyes of her boss.

“Eunha is it about yesterday?” You questioned again and that’s when she looked at you and nodded. Eunha sighed out loud as if a huge weight was taken off her chest, and the words were able to finally freely flow.

“I feel as if I’ve let you down. I should’ve known about the visit, and I should’ve warned you, I shouldn’t have been quiet about the news and I shouldn’t have been so easily controlled by your respective boyfriend an-”

Through the sudden clench of her jaw, it appeared as if the smaller was about to cry. It wasn’t often that the female became so self-critical and it had you jumping up and crouching right in front of her.

“Eunha! You didn’t disappoint me! Nothing is your fault. Really, everything is okay, none of us could’ve predicted any of this. It was all unexpected so please don’t blame yourself, you’ll never be able to disappoint me, okay?” You reassured the other, hands coming up to take hers. They were clammy and you only frowned at that. All of this really affected her. To lighten up the atmosphere, you laughed before continuing.

“And he isn’t my boyfriend”

Eunha looked shocked after hearing that. Her eyes reached the size of avocado seeds, while her rosy lips were left parted. The sight amused you quite a bit.

“But the visit, the news-”

“It’s all fake. Media and business play. Clout. Call it however you want” Although given a clear and simple clarification, the assistant still seemed taken aback. She blinked a couple of times, leaning back into the chair and furrowing her brows. You stood up and returned back to your own seat, expecting Eunha to ask for a better explanation. Of course, that happened not even three seconds later.

“How did that come to be?”

So instead of returning to work that was left to pile up yesterday, you leaned back and started the telltale from the exact beginning. The assistant listened with utmost attention, making sure to suck in every piece of information, every little detail you offered, growing more dumbfounded as seconds passed. Minutes fled by fast when such an interesting story was being shared and soon enough it was time to leave. Still, the other stayed seated until the very last word left your lips, apparently not caring about the time.

You appreciated that, it felt nice being able to talk about the whole situation with someone who wasn’t labeled a fake boyfriend. Then, even if you wanted to talk with him, Seungyoun probably wouldn’t be so invested in understanding your emotions and viewpoints like Eunha was. At the last point, the assistant gasped.

“And that’s exactly why I have to go and meet with him at Angel Den in approximately half an hour”

The white Porsche came to a stop right outside the big café in center of the city. It happened to be just in the right time because an expensive black Maserati was also pulling up right beside. When the door lifted up and opened, dressed in casual attire, Cho Seungyoun stepped out. You thanked his outfit choice, for you too weren’t dressed formally at all. The heir wore a caramel long-sleeved button-up and black pants with black vans. He seemed to unexpectedly match with your outfit. It consisted of a beige cardigan and loose shirt of the same color tucked in black ripped jeans – truly something the media weren’t used to.

There was a genuine smile on Seungyoun’s face as he approached you, completely ignoring all of the flashing lights around him. For whatever reason, the reporters were already there, with set up cameras and annoying interviewers, ready to capture every possible move of the new couple.

Honestly, why the fuck were they so bothered? The two of you weren’t celebrities, only successful business people; when did the lives of those become gossip-worthy?

Seungyoun offered a hand, which you took without any evident hesitation. His palm was warm as he took you inside, not trying to hide the admiration that danced around his irises. The sudden amount of emotion was surprising, cheeks immediately flushing as the two of you walked upstairs - to the secured designated spot.

A couple of reporters tried following but weren’t allowed on the second floor by the staff. This was a café Cho enterprise owned, therefore ordering to keep the upper floor off-limits for an hour or two wasn’t hard at all. They were given a bonus anyway.

The reserved seat was all the way in the back, hidden from outside view and decorated in most beautiful ways. Your eyes immediately caught onto the black wall, one that was (almost) completely filled with different drawings and words. There were numerous jokes, pick-up lines, and cheeky caricatures, all of them bribing a smile out on your face. Suddenly, Seungyoun took your hand, turned it around and put a white stick in the opened palm.

“Go on” The male cocked his head to the side, motioning towards the black wall. You were taken aback, needing a moment to cherish the privilege of writing something down yourself.

“They wipe them off every three days so don’t be too happy about it” Of course, Seungyoun always had to ruin the moment. Instead of the lovely look he gave you just a few minutes ago, there was an assured smirk on his face. It only served as a reminder that all of his ‘obvious’ emotions were a play and a façade put on for the media.

For whichever reason, it hurt.

The chalk felt soft against your fingers and hard against the surface. With elegant moves, your name was written down, a beautiful heart just above the last letter. Although unoriginal, it was the thought that mattered and you laughed, finally having left a trace of INVICTA in Angel Den.

It wasn’t long after the waitress took the orders, that your drinks arrived. Seungyoun went all out, ordering their fanciest (and at the same time most expensive) drink that you remembered the name of - Flash. It ended up being a black cocktail with red streaks that changed shapes every time the little umbrella was swirled in it. Seungyoun’s drink greatly contrasted yours, a simple oreo milkshake.

For the first few minutes, you expected the other to begin some kind of a topic, yet unfortunately, that never happened. Seungyoun’s gaze was locked outside, on his phone, the black liquid in a fancy glass, but never on you. The male didn’t look happy though, there was a slight frown on his lips, and his brows looked slightly furrowed. You pondered asking about it, but decided not do. It’s for the better to keep to your own work.

With laptop opened, you slowly worked on important paperwork, fingers swiftly moving over the keyboard and eyes carefully scanning all text. In such a concentrated state, you missed the way Seungyoun’s eyes stopped observing the outside world and switched to you. He was relaxed in the seat, taking slow sips of his beverage while watching the female on the other side. Something inside his chest ached upon not being noticed.

Then he remembered.

Turning on the little device resting on the table, Seungyoun tapped a few times on its screen and opened the newest gossip article. Of course, it featured the two of you.

“You look so ugly here” Seungyoun mocked, expecting a large reaction in return. You looked up from the bigger screen, taking a quick glance at the picture, before returning to work. Truthfully, there was nothing wrong with the picture; maybe taken from an unusual angle, but you for sure didn’t look ugly.

Without any verbal answer, Seungyoun felt defeated, but he wasn’t going to give up so easy. Annoying, that was probably one of Seungyoun’s main personality traits.

“I hope that not all of the articles feature that shot because damn, I’d want that taken down” He continued, hoping that another one of those stupid remarks will have you answering. Fortunately for him, it did.

“I literally couldn’t care less. But if it affects you so much, go and cry to them about how ugly your girlfriend is, boohoo” You didn’t look up from the screen, but smiled. It wasn’t genuine, almost a show of teeth and a warning to the other. Really, you didn’t care and you didn’t understand why he was so bothered about it. None of the two agreed to media being all up in their face, so was it really important how they looked like in those shots? Hilarious.

“Damn, thought you have some pride to keep” Seungyoun answered, hands raised in the air in defense mode. Still, his heart didn’t fail to miss a beat at your mention of being his girlfriend.

“Just being with you here destroyed even the smallest pieces of pride I had left”

Seungyoun’s pride was probably what should’ve taken the biggest hit there, but it turned out to be his heart. It stopped for almost two whole beats, allowing the mind to become fuzzy, thoughts flying all over the place. The male felt, but didn’t understand and refused to show.

Seungyoun was well aware of the fact that you were slowly getting under his skin, but it wasn’t clear as to why. What was it about you that had him wanting to be in your company? To be around? What was it that made his stone heart quicken its pace when you're around?

And did he really need to play like this? If he gave up on using knowledge to his advantage, were you going to turn your back on him? Probably. If he didn’t set up this dumb ultimatum, would you still be up for getting to know him? Probably not.

But that’s exactly where Seungyoun’s thoughts clashed together and contradicted each other. Was all of this an ongoing process used to show his father that he wasn’t a failure? Because Seungyoun wanted to back up his parent in succeeding as an even bigger businessman? Or because without it, would you ever think of him as worthy enough?

From the beginning, there was a much simpler way to do all of this. Alas, the heir was greedy and wanted to kill two flies with one hit.

Seungyoun looked away and refused to let his hurt be shown.

Second meeting was scheduled on the weekend; Sunday to be exact. You were the one who proposed a walk through the park, which Seungyoun needed a minute to think about. In the end, an agreement was settled.

Both thought that Sunday night was the best option for a date of an open kind. There wouldn’t be as many reporters (if any), which meant you’d be able to walk around more freely. Also, many real couples chose said day and time for their own outings, so that way you’ll be able to camouflage with them.

Once again, although this time planned, Seungyoun and you managed to match outfits. Both were dressed in black comfortable outfits with masks covering generous amounts of the face. There was a suggestion to pair up caps or beanies with the overall look, but the heir was quick to shut the offer down. He said that you looked like an idol couple already as it is, and adding hats to raise more suspicion wasn’t at all needed.

The park was crowded. Kids ran around, screaming and playing, while their parents carefully watched over their little devils. Young couples were crowding the place, holding hands, laughing, goofing around and enjoying the presence of their partner. Some were sitting on the wooden benches, arms thrown over shoulders and heads resting against each other.

For a moment, you felt like one of them. Walking hand in hand with someone who others would label as your boyfriend. Others. But would you?

Unexpectedly, your mind crossed that point out and allowed itself to just enjoy the moment. Relish the feeling of having someone right beside.

It was too long since you’ve engaged in a relationship. Work proved to be way too big of a fuss, never allowing enough time to focus on someone the way a girlfriend should.

What ended up ruining the perfect picture and warm feeling bubbling inside of your chest was a sudden realization. Seungyoun’s hand felt cold in yours, although the grip was strong. There was no warmth you expected to find and the sadness bid its hello. You sighed.

From behind one of the trees in the distance, there was a flash. That little action made you freeze in place and look around. The hold on your hand tightened and Seungyoun was quick to address the situation. When the heir turned around, he saw the surprise in your eyes.

“StarLight”

Disappointment overtook your features and your shoulders slumped forward. Then again, there was another bright light, coming from a completely different direction. Your eyes tracked the position.

“Cascade”

At the mention of another gossip agency, your head snapped in his direction. Seungyoun caught onto the dismay in your irises and immediately stepped back, letting go of your hand. It suddenly felt as if he wasn’t qualified enough to hold it anymore. But was he ever?

“How many of them know about this meeting?” You whispered, hurt almost dripping from said words. Inside of your chest, the heart was beating with a delay, blood pumping slowly through veins. Seungyoun looked back, chest tightening in a certain indescribable way.

“Just them” Seungyoun answered, trying to control his voice, scared that it might just break if he said more. You nodded and your gaze lowered, focusing on a small rock on the ground. Kicking it away and watching it reach the grass, you picked Seungyoun’s hand, feeling once again just how cold it was.

“Let’s go home. It’s enough for tonight” The conversation was cut short there, no one saying a word until the very farewell. Throughout the whole walk home, Seungyoun’s head was a mess, thoughts incoherent for god knows which time that week.

He thought that there was no way out of this. At least a way that would end up positively for both of you. Whatever Seungyoun tried; one wouldn’t be satisfied. He was in a crossfire, feeling guilty.

The warmth from your own hand was slowly disappearing in his.

As per usual, you were on time.

Once a big iron gate opened, a beautiful property came into view. The tall and fancy building Seungyoun lived in, shone bright, illuminating a broad territory around it. Outside, on the parking lot, there weren’t many cars, despite the building’s housing potential. Every single vehicle turned out to an expensive brand - from Porsche, Aston Martin, Bentley to Rolls-Royce and Bugatti. All those fancy cars were secured by tens of cameras and laser control, making you completely dumbfounded and intimidated.

Indirectly, you got the answer to why it wasn’t completely inhabited – money probably became too big of a problem.

If the counting was done right, it had twelve floors and an open balcony on the top. Thankfully, it appeared to have a set of elevators that would be taking you to the last floor – just exactly where the heir lived.

The entrance was locked, it operated through an intercom that took some time to figure out. Seungyoun seemed to be expecting your visit just then, for he immediately opened the door.

Walking inside felt like entering an expensive hotel. There was a reception in the middle of the wide hallway, a cute girl with a surprised face working behind the counter. Two guards were positioned at the different sides of it, their eyes suspiciously tracking your every movement.

Well, this is something you’ve never experienced before.

Walking towards the female felt strange, the looks of the other two only an added pressure. Fortunately, upon noticing your nervous appearance, she smiled and appeared more cheerful than a few seconds ago. This was a casual building people casually lived in, but for whatever reason, you felt like the visit had to be reasoned.

Thankfully, the conversation didn’t last long, for she happened to recognize you ‘from the news’ and carelessly allowed a free pass. The ride to the twelfth floor didn’t last long. A familiar song that played made time pass by quicker. The elevator opened with a barely audible ding. Your eyes immediately caught onto the fact that there was only one door.

The guard that appeared out of nowhere startled you, but only for a blink of time, for you were already used to the area to feel as intimidating as ever.

Knocking onto the hard surface, you waited for Seungyoun to come and open, but that never happened. Trying the second time, you feared looking like a burglar to the man beside the elevator. Suddenly, something that barely sounded like ‘come in’ was heard from the other side. That was the only que to come in.

“It’s me” You chirped, taking the heavy coat off and looking around, searching for a hanger. Finding it in the corner of the hallway, you hung the clothing piece on it. It was expected to find a thousand pairs of shoes on the floor, but there were only two – a pair of dress shoes and black vans. Your own pair of white Converse seemed to perfectly break the melancholy.

From the hallway, which appeared to be the center of the apartment, it was possible to go four different ways through four different doors. You contemplated which ones to open first, scared to barge in uninvited to whatever was on the other side. It didn’t have to be a form of unexpected activity, rather something Seungyoun wouldn’t want others to see. Like his untidy bedroom, for example.

Therefore, choosing not to move just yet, you anticipated the host to appear soon – seeing as someone has entered his apartment. Minutes passed and no one came out.

Suddenly, your ears picked up on a quiet and calm melody. It was coming from behind the door on your left. With slow and careful movements, you pushed the door, opening them without any effort.

The room was rectangular but divided into something that looked like an upside-down letter U. It was huge, almost like a suite all by itself. The aesthetics were something similar to your own apartment – white coffee, beige and white with a few black decorations here and there. From the entrance, you were met with expensive furniture and a huge TV screen that resembled a dark void on a bright wall. There were shelves filled with books of different genres and authors; the most worn-out ones were related to music. Family portraits filled the walls, making you stop and observe for a few moments.

Most of them were when Seungyoun was little. They looked happy.

On the other side of the wall, Seungyoun seemed to have a built-in home-cinema, for there was a huge projector on the ceiling and a screen that could be pulled down from above. Many squishy beanbags were thrown around in front of it, offering maximum comfort while watching movies. Behind, but placed to almost kiss the wall, was a long bar. On the wall, there were bottles of random, colorful drinks you supposed only the upper class could afford. Glasses hung from above while bowls with fresh fruit were placed all around. Right beside was a football board Seungyoun probably loved playing with his friends.

Apart from any basic furniture you’d expect in a living room, there was a small place filled with cat stuff. Scratchers, food bowls, a huge circular bed and all kinds of toys. You never knew the male had a pet and for some reason, you felt happy to see it.

The door to the balcony was open, and that’s where the quiet melody was coming from. Deciding to check it out next after (not so secretly) observing the whole room in detail, you stepped outside.

“Seungyoun?” You questioned, startled and surprised to see him. Seungyoun was sitting in a comfortable black chair, one arm leaning against a glass table. On it was a glass full of wine and a black bottle that appeared half empty. His breathing was calm, almost too calm, while his eyes were focused on an invisible dot, irises dark, but emotionless. Seungyoun heard your voice but reacted with a bit of delay.

“Heh, didn’t expect you to come here” The heir replied, words slurred, but not due to alcohol. No, Seungyoun looked tired, exhausted. Maybe you’d even dare say he looked numb.

His eyes only moved to make sure you really were there, but he made no effort to tease or bite a remark as per usual. Soon enough, Seungyoun's hand reached out to grab the glass and lift it to his lips. With three quick and audible gulps, it was almost empty.

You walked around and took a seat on the other side of the table. Naturally, you felt worried, anxious, confused. Still, there was that unexplainable amount of hesitance you always felt when the other was in question. Therefore, you approached the subject in a certain, nonchalant manner, not wanting to show too much emotion in fear of being misunderstood.

“Uh... is there something wrong?”

Seungyoun’s head turned slowly, eyes appearing glassier due to the light that reflected off them. His head then shook, a frown painting his features. It took Seungyoun a few moments to gather his thoughts and allowed it, ready to hear whatever whenever. Then, the male spoke, with a small and almost broken voice.

“You know...I have no clue what I’m doing this for”

A/N: hello! if you’ve made it this far and are reading this, thank you so much from the deepest depths of my heart! i love you!

i’m so sorry i wasn’t able to get this out earlier, a lot has happened and affected me lately, the biggest problem being the death of my uncle and my mental health not being good. i hope you can understand.

thank you and see you soon hopefully!

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