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otnesse · 7 months ago

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Sure, I'll give you in-film examples of precisely those flaws.

First, for continuity issues, we have the issue of Phillipe: The film has Phillipe somehow knowing that Maurice went to the castle. Problem is, Phillipe fled without Maurice and was never shown to have even seen the castle for even a second due to being too busy fleeing those wolves, much less see Maurice headed in that direction. We also have Be Our Guest and how, for some reason, despite Beast already being established via his ambush of both Maurice AND Belle and sensing them long before they were even aware of him, AND despite Cogsworth's warnings, he is never even tipped off to the servants blatantly violating a direct order for them to not feed Belle. Oh yeah, and also forgetting to edit the lyrics during the song (it was originally meant for Maurice) by making it seem as though Belle was the first guest when she if anything was the second (Maurice predated her, and he was technically far closer to being an actual guest since the servants DID let him in). Then we get to the climax of the film, where that automated woodcutter was fully operational despite it being implied to have been dismantled for ease of transport, and neither Maurice NOR Belle being shown to have had any opportunity to get it back in working order, either because they had to immediately go out and rescue the other, or in the case of the last one, Belle was busy trying to nurse Maurice back to health and THEN having to deal with a lynch mob organized by Gaston on top of all of that before literally being thrown into the cellar. And that's not even getting into the debate as to the actual nature of the curse regarding aging (both the prologue and Be Our Guest strongly implied that aging is a required part of the curse, yet stuff like Chip and to a certain extent Sultan the dog leaves some confusion as to aging due to being a kid and an implied puppy).

For characterization issues, Gaston was the worst of them, writing him to be so overtly bad by making him almost a cartoonish caricature of a dude bro and so unlikeable that he came across as plain unfunny and even somewhat unrealistic (a contrast with past Disney villains like Maleficent, Ursula, and Lady Tremaine, also Grimhilde, where, while technically fantastical, at least had some basis in reality regarding overall characterizations like Maleficent essentially being the Marquis de Sade in overall outlook, not to mention Ursula essentially being Jordan Belford, the Wolf on Wall Street, or even Barack Obama or Bill Clinton, or for that matter Karl Marx or Vladimir Lenin, aka the type of guy who tricks people at their lowest to gain power and con them). The worst offender was the Gaston reprise where Gaston and LeFou openly let slip key details about their plan to get Belle to marry him for even a kindergartner to deduce he's planning on blackmailing her by falsely accusing her dad as a psychopath, do so to literally EVERYONE in the tavern, and everyone then cheering him on, even those who SHOULDN'T have any reason to support it (ie, those triplets). That doesn't happen in real life since most people in real life if anything are more likely to turn AGAINST someone who makes that kind of goal clear. To give an actual real-world comparison, Vladimir Lenin, himself no slouch regarding demanding that the Bolsheviks do the dirtiest of crimes even when firmly in power, deliberately hid his orders to assassinate the Romanov family precisely BECAUSE he realized if it ever let out, the people he lorded over would want his head. The Romanovs weren't even that popular of rulers at that time (sort of like how Maurice was not well-regarded at best in the village), so the very fact that Lenin went to great lengths to HIDE that crime despite technically standing to benefit from bragging about it shows just HOW much he realized bragging about it would have him lose far more than he would gain. Heck, the fact that he repeatedly acts like such a total jerk to everyone around him makes his even being slightly likeable to anyone, much less the huge favorite guy the story makes him out to be, implausible at best. Karl Marx was similar to Gaston in terms of being a huge egotistical jerk who disrespected everyone, and he ultimately drove away so many people who would have otherwise gladly gone with him precisely BECAUSE he disrespected them and treated everyone like dirt, to such an extent that ONLY a handful of people even bothered to go to his funeral.

Then we get into Belle, who in the beginning came across as something of a snob, coming across as extremely elitist in her views of the villagers, and also when she fled the castle pretty much endangered her dad by doing so (let's assume, for example, that Belle survives the elements, and the wolves, and successfully escapes. What makes you think Beast won't just imprison Maurice again as a response to Belle breaking her end of the deal? Especially when he obviously had tailed her just from his saving her at the last minute from those wolves). And I also wasn't impressed at how her "outcast" situation was due to being a bibliophile. Really? That's the best they could do to make her eccentric? A quarter of France's women during the setting of the film (1700s France) was literate, and in fact literacy was considered a prized trait for people due to the Enlightenment emphasizing this aspect. Doesn't help either that Belle was shown in the opening to go to a book store/library (they can't seem to decide which it is), implying she's FAR from the only literate person in the village (if she were, there'd be no way that bookshop would stay in business). Oh yeah, and then she ended up, in a very blatant act of stupidity on her part, outright exposed the Beast to a lynch mob, INCLUDING the guy she literally deduced a second before then was blackmailing her (realistically, someone with her intellect would have deduced that anyone who tried to go as far as to orchestrate an arrest of the one thing she'd protect up to that point to force her into marriage is very likely to treat whoever she might like even SLIGHTLY better than him like an enemy on a battlefield, ie, kill him). I also wasn't particularly fond of how they handled the dinner situation, either since it DIDN'T paint Belle in a good or even sympathetic light ultimately (Beast had to swallow his pride, at his servants prodding, admittedly, but still, and tried to politely request she come downstairs twice. She refused him. A far better way to handle THAT scene would be to have Belle come downstairs, NOT because she's charmed by Beast, but more to gauge him, having distrust of Beast. That would have been better than her basically refusing like a brat.). Oh yeah, and they also fail to actually explain why Belle doesn't simply up and out move out of the village (we know she's most likely wealthy enough to actually move out with her dad if she so wanted. Someone who's able to read the entire day without even any apparent work either at her house or even working a job at the village has to be considerably wealthy enough to actually relocate if needs be), nor do they really explain WHY she moved to the village in the first place (it's at most only implied she's not native to the village in the beginning). And quite frankly, they never show her to have anything more than average intelligence at best, even though they emphasize her as "the smart one" (she largely reads children's books, and the one or two times she is shown using her head, it's either something kids can easily gather, or otherwise she ends up making an already bad situation even WORSE). We don't even see her working on the machine with her dad.

As far as Beast is concerned, he did well enough for the audience to actually WANT to sympathize with him and restore his human form, I'll give him that much credit. And they did try to develop him as well. That's also to his credit. Unfortunately, their biggest mistake with him was in fact the climax, in two respects: One, his effectively dooming the servants to be cursed, rather than trying to find a third way to both ensure Maurice got the help he needed WITHOUT blowing the chances of his servants (note that I specifically made sure to emphasize his servants needing this, since UNLIKE Beast, they hardly deserved that curse). The second, and far more damning flaw, was their decision to basically have Beast sink so low in his despair that he effectively was willing to let the mob potentially slaughter his servants, and make no effort to actually defend himself until Belle was physically nearby. I'm sorry, but that was a TRUE waste of character development there. The whole dang POINT behind the curse was for him to learn to be less selfish, and when you decide EVERYONE in the castle might as well die just because you had to let Belle go, that destroyed the entire POINT behind learning to get out of the curse. It would have been ONE thing if he lacked servants at all, or at most the "servants" were more like wholly animate objects given life by the curse. At least there, Beast only had his own life to forfeit and no one else's. In fact, ironically enough, it actually managed to make Beast come across as even WORSE than when he first appeared (as bad as he was in the beginning, at least with him at the beginning, you got the distinct sense that Beast DID intend for his servants to be relieved of the curse about as much as relieving it from himself, and his interaction with Maurice indicated he was VERY protective of his turf from trespassers). Seriously, couldn't he at least make an actual effort to defend his servants, or even greet them at the front door and say, fine, take him to be killed, but leave his servants alone? Either of those two scenarios would have done FAR more to show his growth than what we got.

Might as well mention two dishonorable mentions regarding characterizations (well, okay, technically four, but three of them are essentially one character). First is the triplets, the blonde ladies who fawn over Gaston. They're basically demeaned as bimboes, and they're given the kind of bodies you'd expect from Barbie or the Dead or Alive games, it's made painfully obvious that they're meant to contrast Belle in that they're stupid while she's, at least the intention is such in-universe, smart. And what's worse, even though they're clearly foils to Belle, they failed to show ACTUAL inner ugliness at all (they were implied to outright ship Belle with Gaston, showed absolutely NO indication of even being envious of her at all, and if anything, the wedding scene at the beginning implied they valued her as a friend since they helped with the wedding setup without even being AWARE that Gaston was the groom until he literally made himself known, they don't even mock Maurice even when Gaston and LeFou clearly did, nor were they shown to even be involved in the mob later on [and even the Gaston Reprise, it's left vague whether they were even aware Maurice entered the tavern since they were absent during that time up to the actual reprise]). What's worse is that this is the closest to Belle's wicked sisters from the original tale that we could get, and they royally screwed up there (Gaston, by contrast, while badly written in his own right, at least got his intended role as a foil for Beast regarding the paradox of inner and outer beauty down correctly). Seriously, couldn't they make SURE to make them jealous or even show them explicitly mock Maurice? Oh yeah, and given the rather annoying anti-marriage bent the film goes so far to push (demonizing the whole concept altogether) not just with Belle ruining a potential marriage [even if it was with the likes of Gaston], but even worse, their refusing to show Belle and Adam actually MARRYING in the ending), it also doesn't help matters either that those three are pretty much the ONLY characters besides Gaston who have even the slightest positive inclinations towards marriage (Belle most certainly had no positive views on marriage at all, and it's not like Gaston's the sole man in the village, she could have gone with ANY guy there. For goodness sakes, an implied friends with benefits relationship between Lumiere and that featherduster was treated far more positively than marriage as a concept in that movie.).

The second is the enchantress. She barely shows up for the prologue, and isn't so much as even MENTIONED afterwards by anyone, and considering that she was responsible for cursing a huge amount of innocents just to target a guilty person, one of whom, Chip, was an explicit child (may have even been a toddler at the time he was cursed), and that's not even getting into how the film itself implied in Be Our Guest that Adam was himself cursed as a CHILD. She was fit for villain material from that alone, yet she makes no appearance or mention of ANY sort. Not even, say, make her the one who orchestrated the final battle, for starters.

So far as pacing issues, most of the film going by the dialogue only occurred for at most a few days. In fact, the period between Gaston's failed wedding ceremony up to the wolf incident/Gaston bringing in the asylum warden for his plan apparently ALL occurred on the exact same day. In the case of Belle's arrival at the castle up to the warden scene/wolf scene, you can even make the argument that it at most took at least an hour if not two or three. That doesn't work at all, and even manages to make Belle look FAR less trustworthy with her honoring her word when she broke it in what was likely an hour of making it. Sure, it's not nearly as bad as Belle already planning an escape route in the 2017 film even BEFORE the West Wing incident, but it's still pretty bad (usually, if someone breaks their word less than an hour into something, they're deemed inherently untrustworthy. At least have a full day pass before she breaks the promise, if not a week or even a month.). That's not even getting into how the castle was implied to be in very close proximity to the village, which leads to quite a bit of problems believing the villagers would actually not believe Beast's existence (even less so when the stained glass opening implied the curse's effects were immediate and very much as apparent as, say, a nuclear bomb going off). As far as beats, aside from the issue Beast had at the climax where he came across as outright castrated, unwilling to even defend himself, and especially not his servants when his castle was under attack, I also wasn't too happy, to a MUCH lesser extent I'll say that much, with how Beast allowed Belle access to the entire castle, barring the West Wing obviously, on his own volition (Lumiere only suggested relocating Belle to an actual bedroom, he never said anything about giving her free access to most of the castle). It contradicted the notion that he was supposed to be a selfish grouch initially. Especially when later on, he had to get advice from Lumiere and Cogsworth on what to make Belle happy, almost a decrease in initiative from earlier.

These are all issues directly from within the film that I can think up of. Now, that all being said, despite my various gripes for the film, one thing I DEFINITELY will NOT say was a flaw was Belle and Beast's relationship ultimately: Belle definitely never suffered from Stockholm Syndrome, and despite my misgivings towards Belle (not just from what's in the film itself, but also stuff Linda Woolverton said, and even some experience IRL and some deep dives into history), that's one charge I'll ALWAYS defend Belle from, no matter what.

EDIT: Might as well add, there's this article where Woolverton laid her plans out clearly, and this was around the time the film was first released (in fact, about a month or two after the film's release, most likely while it was still in theaters):

MOVIES : Ms. Beauty and the Beast : Writer of Disney Hit Explains Her 'Woman of the '90s' - Los Angeles Times (latimes.com)

The opening of Beauty and the Beast is portrayed on stained glass windows. The windows are flawed, because glass is supposed to be clear, not “stained.” Until light shines through them, making the stains works of art. You know. Like how a Beast who’s learned to love has beauty found within.

Does this movie have any flaws? I submit that it does not

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elijahrichardwrites · 2 years ago

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Unveiled Dissolution - WIP Introduction

I would first like to state that at the current moment, all works are still very much in the development stage and are subject to change.

Genre: Fiction | Dark Fantasy | Adventure

Setting: The fictional country of Saeman/Aestar, particularly the country of Elderia

CW: (For the story and some are vaguely mentioned in the post) Death, Blood, Gore, Violence, Implied SA, Implied abuse, Implied su1c1dal ideation, and possibly that I'm not aware of yet

Story

Unveiled Dissolution is the first of many possible books in this series. To avoid confusion, I'll pretty much only talk about Book 1 (although I have so much more in general that I can talk about at later date).

All is seemingly well in one of many countries in Saeman, Elderia. Ruled over by the beloved king, Fedryc Tarrin Endir, Elderia has known peace and prosperity for many years.

Everything is thrown into turmoil when High King Fedryc is killed by his daughter, Neva.

Unveiled Dissolution follows the story of several groups in search of Princess Neva and the Zimoran prince who disappeared with her.

(I am utterly terrible at giving descriptions, apologies)

Major Characters

Neva Elaine Endir

High Princess Neva of Elderia was always seen as a docile princess by outside eyes. However, to those within the royal court, she was always cleaning up after her father and twin brother's messes. Some of those close to the royal family also knew her to be the one behind her father's political decisions. Despite juggling being a princess, a good sister/daughter, and essentially running the entire country, Neva was one to never complain or show the weight of her duties. That was until she killed her father in front of his subjects. Now having disappeared alongside the Zimoran prince staying with the Elderian royal family, many are in search of her.

Aven Fedryc Endir

Although High Prince Aven of Elderia seems that of a strong, loyal, and charming prince, Aven is withdrawn and temperamental due to being plagued by an incident when he was a child. Fearful of others discovering his secret, he's distrustful of others, the only person he can lean on is his twin sister, Neva. However, to his shock, his sister kills the king, and before he could even ask her why, he's taken away by palace guards for his safety. Now the only remaining member of the Endir family that hasn't passed or been exiled, he's thrown into a seat of power, now entrusted with ruling an entire country when all he wants to do is find his sister.

Cyra Qruw

The fourth son of the High King of Zimore, Cyra had no dreams of taking over the throne nor did he think he ever would. Especially when he, alongside other Zimoran treasures and resources, was sent by his cowardly father to the High King of Elderia as a symbol of peace between the two countries after centuries of animosity. Thinking he'd either be reduced to some kind of servant or expected to be wed to the High King's only daughter, Cyra is thrown through a lope when the High King himself asks for Cyra to remain at his side. Cyra is then exposed to the secrets of the Elderian royal family and the High King himself. Unable to leave or to say anything to anyone not in the know, Cyra is isolated in Elderia with no contact with his family. Eventually, he does find a light, someone who too knows the secrets he's been burdened with and may help him find a way out.

It is shortly after the death of the king do the royal court notices Prince Cyra too is missing alongside Neva.

Zrazis

A somewhat infamous Avilok user, Zrazis is a man who has seen much violence in his life, with plenty of blood on his hands. Leaving his home country of Sethin, Zrazis chooses a life of peace over a life of death. With no place or goal in mind, Zrazis spends time exploring everything every country has to offer, alongside his trusty stead, a fluffy brown cow. It is along his travels that he meets Ayre and after learning of his plan, he decides to travel alongside him.

Ayre Selah

An elf from the Selah village, Ayre lived a fairly good life. He had a mother and father who loved him and people who took care of him. However, while his mother has been sick for most of his life, in recent years her condition had worsen. His father, unable to see his beloved in such a state went off in search of something that could help her. Before his father could return though, Ayre's mother had passed. Unable to bear being in the village without his mother and father, with the encouragement and support of his village, he takes off in search of his father to break the news and bring him home. It is in his journey to find his father, that he meets a peculiar person.

O' Great Hero

A man tortured by his brutal past, O' Great Hero has been blindly moving from country to country, avoiding his homeland afraid to be brought back into the life he fought so desperately to leave. However, traces of his past seem to follow him everywhere, unable to escape and unable to atone. It is in Elderia that O' Great Hero meets a literal ghost of the past and may have to come face to face with the truth he's been hiding from.

Vex Desyr

Half elf, half human, and now full ghost, Vex has haunted her long-destroyed village since her death. Dying for her people and her village is something she'd never regret but even in death she still finds herself alone. Until a man more pitiful than her stumbles upon the ruins of her village begging for an end to his miserable existence.

(and possibly more)

Some Lore Bits

This particular universe utilizes two forms of magic, Elo and Avilok. Elo would be closer to "light" magic and Avilok would be "dark" magic. There are also three types of magic users; Laerdi (learned magic), Notandi (born w/ magic) and Kaatori (special type of magic user). I could go at length about the magic system but that will have to be its own post.

There are two major gods, each associated with one of the types of magic, as well as humans and elves. There are also plenty of minor gods, mainly related with the different types of creatures in this universe and their functions.

I have plenty of lore about this particular story that I absolutely plan to share as time goes on but for now, I'll give you all that (:

Status: Very much in the developmental stages but is probably the closest to me beginning the first draft.

Tag List: (if you'd like to be added, feel free to ask me, DM me, or reply to this post!)

#writeblr #writing #writers #writers on tumblr #wip intro #unveiled dissolution

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ackerpreach · 4 years ago

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This ending .... I can name 500 reasons and I will name them right now, because I don’t think I’m the only one who is upset with how things turned out. (Also, A positive message for all of you at the end)

MAJOR LEAKS SPOILERS/ READ WITH CAUTION

Update: after reading more theories from fellow RM bloggers, and sleeping over it one day, this entire chapter might be an april fools... Don't fully lose hope yet beautiful people. It's me just giving a review on a possible fake April fools chapter

After following this franchise since 2013, so nearly a DECADE. this ending is a pure disserve to the entire fandom. I feel like Yams has rushed it just for the sake of being done with the entire manga. So many things are left open, characters and their developemt are reverted back all the way to chapter 1 or are left even worse than that...

Mikasa’s worthless character development/ Aaronmika’s horrible toxic codependent relationship

Oh honey... Let’s start with how horrible Isayama has treated her. We were all rooting for her, because we all felt like she was so misunderstood. She had a horrible childhood and imprinted on a guy who treated her like trash 99 percent of the story. And then, slowly but surely, she starts to realize she has to stop obsessing over him in the uprising arc with the help of a real man who treats her like a queen, more importantly, he treats her like a real human being. This man sees her for her abilities and that she has the power to be self dependent. She learned parts of herself, that she was able to work together with him like no one else could. She learned parts of herself she was unable to do so if she kept obsessing about Aaron. All this love, care, mutual understanding and RESPECT these two shared.

but...NAH FUCK THAT, right Yams?? Throw all this development away, all this bonding. Let’s make the main female lead even more yandere than she already was in the first season. Let her make out with his decapacitated head (like dude, this is also pure disrespect to Aaron’s dead body btw) and let her obsess even more about the guy who has treated her no better than a piece of toilet cloth 99 percent of the time. The guy who was never really appreciative in front of her for saving his ass billions of times, who always pushed her away, who yells at her and snaps at her whenever he can instead of reasoning and talking calmly with her in mature way. (EVEN PARODY YOUTUBE CHANNELS WHO DONT SHIP ANYTHING MAKE IT A TROPE WHERE AARON TELLS MIKASA HE HATES HER GUTS WHENEVER HE CAN)

Then after all that, suddenly Yams tries to last minute persuade us Aaron’s always been head over heels for her??? He should have build their relationship better which he hasn’t even tried to do so... He must be thinking his fans are stupid for eating this from his hands.

Like seriously??? What is this???

Isayama is just fully contradicting himself. It’s like someone tipped him off with a buttload of money for him to write Aaron like this to satisfy shipping needs and to cash in those extra money’s from it. Even if he tried to cater to Erem*ika, this is not how you write a loving and caring couple which people will root for.

This next two panels just freaking infuriates me to the core of my soul. I can’t even describe how dissapointed I am with Mikasa.

Why is she clutching that head so obsessively like that? Why is she walking and turning her back away from her comrades? After everything they have done for her, after all they’ve been through?! After everything Armin has done? Standing up for Mikasa, beating up Aaron for hurting her. I feel like even Jean, Connie and Sasha have cared more for her in a healthy way. Sure, Aaron cares for her romantically too apparently (What a twist Yams :)), but has he aided her to becoming a mentally healthier individual? Has he aided in her mental stability? The answer is a big fat NO! All I see between these two after today’s raw Chapter’s are too Yandere obsessed individuals who have no clue on how to maintain a healthy relationship.

Love should only go as far as the heart can endure and it seems like her character is not willing to be aware of that. Even Armin was able to let go of Aaron in those latest panels. Why does her entire character resolve around this guy??? I really do not understand. Her Ackerbond and her age is not an excuse for her to throw her life away like this.

Shonen’s disgusting portrayal of women

I’ve seen this countless of times in the many years I’ve watched anime. SasuS*ku from Naruto, Ichih*me from Bleach, Shinji and that oranged hair girl from Neon Evangelion.. Why do these women get decreased to simpletons with one single goal? And that is to obsess over a bland male lead who either treats them like trash or doesn’t notice them up until the last last chapter (LITERALLY WHAT YAMS HAS DONE). Some go even as far as the male leading wanting the kill the female love interest and yet the female lead is still in love with them???. It’s disgusting for him to write the MAIN female character this way.

It’s dissapointing we believed in Isayama doing Mikasa’s character right. That she’s finally being able to let go of her codependency and to live for herself maybe live in Hizuru and find more about her roots???, but every single time she shows some improvement, it’s burried deep in the ground again by the Author. It almost seems like a lowkey kink of some of the male Mangaka’s to write about a girl obsessing over them no matter what. I see this so many times to the point that I truly stand behind it that some of them might have this fantasy.

I wished he didn’t portray her last panels like this. Everyone else is living their lives while Mikasa is still grieving about him. I’m not saying she’s not allowed to grieve and everyone takes it at their own pace, but cmon... Show her living her life too. This is too much. Her being next to his grave and grieving him as her last panels just shoves it in our faces that YET AGAIN, BEING OBSESSED WITH AARON IS ALL HER CHARACTER STANDS FOR.

I truly despise how Isayama handles her grieving, kissing his decapacitated head, carrying it around like some handbag, and her last panels being thissss.

The world leaving Paradis alone miraciously after all that???

It’s so weird and out of place with so many political feuds and disagreements between the world and Paradis, the entire Rumbling happening and we can see Mikasa just chilling outside in Paradis with no one bothering them. You can see the rings of the walls in the picture below. I don’t know the exact reason behind as the manga is still in Korean, but from what I see, the story went the route of: throwing a happy ending without enough proper reason and it was all fixed just like that in a snap! It doesn’t fit the entire narrative of attack on titan for things to be so peacful out of nowhere. When it comes to the narrative, how things work in that world, how hard it is to achieve peace, everything made somewhat sense up until chapter 138. 139 seems so so out of place... It’s like I’m reading a chapter from a totally different manga.

Aaron Yoghurt got defeated so easily/ Aaron’s character assassination

The build up on the first part of the rumbling was great, those kids carrying coins. You could feel humanity’s fear and Aaron’s hatred in those pages. As if he truly had a goal and he has turned away completely from his comrades and his closest friends with no return. The world seemed truly doomed, but he got defeated just like that. He was in the nape all this time (because screw the warhammer power of hiding yourself elsewhere in his ginormous titan body). There is no master plan as we all expected, and in the end he just acts all yandere in the paths with Armin and that’s it... They massacared his entire character as well. Many fan theories created a better ending with his character. Him being reincarnated as Historia’s baby would be so much better. For him to still keep on seeking and to strive for power. It has always been his motive. It’s his personality from the start until chapter 138. Even if things are okay, to keep on going and to seek that adventure, but then.. He’s so weak and directionless suddenly.. It’s so weird... This is not Aaron at all???

Using Aaron for him this entire post, because I don’t want others to invade our tags... :)))

Historia’s baby

The only panel we got from Historia’s child was this. Just a normal kid, normal life... Why did Isayama put so much effort in highlighting Historia’s pregnancy if it was nothing too spectacular anyway? It seemed he had major plans for this kid and for their development too??? It’s again, big plans, big developments, big relationship dynamic, but all got thrown out of the window...

Don’t read the next sentence if you are a minor :’)

It’s like almost ejaculating, but stopping right before it and repeating that every single Arc.

My energy when writing about this chapter is the same as Nostalgia Critic and his hatred for atla the live action

In Conclusion...

I know us fans should not be deciding on how this story should end, because this is Isayama’s story after all, but I truly wished for him to wrap up things much more rounded. There are so many unanswered questions... Again, I think for the sake of being done with this manga, he rushed all of it. He’s become a millionaire from this story and now his pockets are jammed full, I guess he doesn’t need to put in any effort anymore, right? Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I really wished he cared for his fans a little bit more with this last chapter by giving some answers that make sense at least. It’s his fans who gave him this platform and the opportunity to tell his story and for him to at least give in a bit of effort especially in the last chapter is the least he can do. Rivamika being canon or not, he truly rushed it without thinking much about the entire story line. He expanded it so much, he didn’t know how to bind it all together.

Even after all this, I’ll still ship them in the headcanon type of way. I do give credit to Isayama for giving us a template for such a beautiful dynamic between Levi and Mikasa. He decides to waste it, but that doesn’t mean we have to. I want to thank all the people with amazing writing skills, the ones who give us beautiful art like @carmenlee @phit chan @vialesana and many more. I want to remind all of you that we can create something beautiful of our own and we don’t neccesarily need canon lore for that. The art I’ve seen, the fanfictions I’ve read have touched me deeper than Isayama ever could at times.The Mikasa in our mind is appreciate of Levi, is mature, classy and has a strong will for herself. They spend their remaining days together peacefully. Keep writing, keep drawing, stay creative.

I love you all so so much, I’ve only been publicly active since March, but thank you Rivamika fandom for giving me so much joy as a lurker these past 7 years <3

#rivamika #snk leaks #snk 139 leaks #levimika #mikalevi

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teawaffles · 4 years ago

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Forbidden Games: Chapter 7

One day, three assassins had gathered for a gunfight.

The three of them had varying levels of skill with a gun. The first assassin had perfect aim. The second could land two shots in three. The last was only able to land one shot in three.

They were to take turns choosing one of the other two to shoot at. In order to compensate for their differences in skill level, they would start from the most inexperienced assassin, who could only land one shot in three.

Now if you were this person, what would you consider the most reasonable thing to do?

The right answer is—— to fire straight into the air, without aiming at either opponent.

Ordinarily, one would think to target the most dangerous assassin, who could land every shot. But if they were struck down, then on the next turn, you would find yourself in the sights of the remaining opponent, who could land two shots in three.

As such, if you were to avoid shooting either party, the next player would definitely target the most dangerous opponent. If they succeed, the subsequent turn would cycle back to you. Hence the best course of action is to shoot no one at the start.

An action that seems meaningless at first glance, may in truth be the most logical choice.

This was a paradox —— the gap between logic and intuition.

“While there are some slight differences, our game bears a striking resemblance to this story, which is why I chose to apply it today. Although, I admit I may have been a bit too dramatic when aiming the gun at myself.”

A contradiction for a contradiction. Saying that, a small smile rose on William’s face. It was the smile of a demon.

For a moment, the extent to which he’d misjudged William had made Alan break out in a cold sweat. But he quickly regained his composure.

“I get it — you’re smart enough to know what you’re doing. But now, what will you do? The chance that your gun will fire in this turn is two-in-five. As for me, with one bullet fired and two left, my chances are the same. We’re even now.”

“But that’s not true. I believe you know very well that on your next turn, your gun will fire,” William asserted.

“……What?”

William brushed his thumb over the revolver in his hand.

“It appears that the guns we were given have been rigged, such that the cylinders will stop at predetermined positions when they are spun. These positions have been marked with scratches. In other words, this game has been a lie from the very beginning.”

William looked at Alan, who was in a daze, as he continued.

“That’s why you were able to add two more bullets to your gun with no hesitation whatsoever. You knew that even if Mr Holmes were to face off with five rounds, the gun would never fire.”

He then struck his index finger against the table.

Alan had been thoroughly shocked when the secret behind the guns was revealed. But now, he retaliated in full force.

“That’s right. These guns are for cheats. Why wouldn’t I use them in this game? Counting from the chamber where the cylinder stops, my revolver has three consecutive chambers loaded. But only the last two chambers of your gun are filled. ——Do you get it? This means your gun will not fire this turn, and on my turn, mine will definitely fire. The game has already been decided.”

“I’ll throw that question back to you. Do you understand what it means for us to know about this trick?”

Somewhat stunned by his opponent’s lack of awareness, William proceeded to explain the situation with eloquence.

“In our previous match, I said something to Mr Holmes. ‘Allow me to advance a proposition. Two chambers— don’t fill them.’”

There was another meaning behind those awkward words. “What it meant was, ‘Advance by two chambers’. After that, Mr Holmes violently loaded the gun —— so much so, that he had scratched the cylinder too.”

Alan covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at his own gun.

“……No way—”

“Because the two of us were given new revolvers, and you chose to use the gun from our previous match, you are now holding a revolver with two chambers’ worth of scratch marks added. Although the previous scratches remained…… since it was Mr Holmes who made them, I trust that the new markings were able to fool your accomplices.”

With no need for any further explanation, William fell silent.

In a game of Russian roulette where the number of rounds loaded increases over time, Sherlock had unexpectedly done something rash.

Alan had taken his sudden change in attitude to be mere desperation. But in reality, Sherlock had received William’s message, and while maintaining his composure, he proceeded to act as if he had no regard for his own life. By doing so, his violence in loading the gun, as well as his choice to fill the cylinder to its upper limit, were all interpreted as the products of a meltdown — and they were able to avoid any suspicion that they had seen through his trick.

However, this method of using Alan’s own trick against him was not foolproof. Although they had added new scratches to the cylinder, the original marks still remained. On close inspection, it might be possible to distinguish them.

With that in mind, Alan turned to face his accomplices behind him. But they said nothing, perhaps out of confusion. They had no confidence that they’d loaded the bullets in the right chambers. A sense of unease began to swell within Alan.

If Sherlock’s trap had succeeded, the positions of the bullets in Alan’s gun would now be off.

His revolver had six chambers. Counting from where the cylinder would stop, the first three chambers were supposed to be filled. Now with the markings “shifted” two positions forward, it would be that the first, and last two chambers were filled instead.

Since one round had already been fired, only the other two bullets remained. He was essentially in the same situation as William. In that case, as William had the first move, he would be able to fire on Alan one turn earlier.

In short, in this perverse version of Russian roulette, Alan had employed rigged revolvers, his accomplices had mistaken the positions of the scratch marks, and William had elected to go first. With these three conditions in place, William’s victory had been secured.

“What kind of joke is this……”

From the start, the game’s outcome had been set in stone.

That had originally been Alan’s plan. But William took advantage of it and turned the tables on him.

Despite being in a position of absolute superiority, victory had escaped him a second time. Alan’s blood was boiling.

“A—Again! I will surely win if we play again!”

William put his revolver down, and shook his head in pity.

“Unfortunately, there will be no rematch. Both of us no longer have the time to humour someone like you,” he replied curtly.

Alan lost his patience and slammed the table.

“Do you look down on everyone, you brat?!”

“All you do is envy others, and that is why you have lost yourself,” William said, with the air of an educator.

Before Alan could make sense of that, the sound of a revolver’s hammer being cocked emanated from the floor.

“——Don’t move.”

Then, the fallen detective staggered to his feet. Even though he had been shot in the abdomen, his face betrayed no trace of pain, instead wearing the grin of a child whose mischief had succeeded. In his hand, was a fully-loaded revolver.

“Holmes, why you bastard—”

“I don’t feel like explaining myself right now. Anyway, all of you raise your hands like grown men,” Sherlock ordered sharply, amidst their confusion.

Perhaps they were caught completely off guard, but Alan’s accomplices put up no struggle as they timidly raised both hands. The young man who had been held hostage edged quietly away from them.

William rose from his seat in a leisurely manner.

“From the start, our goal was to create this exact scenario. You have no intention of giving up no matter how many times your opponent wins. In that case, we should overturn the entire stage. To that end, this game, which allowed Mr Holmes to be eliminated by faking his death, presented the perfect opportunity.”

Just as William had planned, his act of near-suicide right from the outset had thrown them off balance, such that no one paid any notice to the fallen Sherlock. Then Sherlock came back to life with perfect timing, providing the key to their counterattack.

With their plan a roaring success, William and Sherlock were brimming with satisfaction.

“You two……”

Alan glared at them with hateful eyes.

“Oh, you’re not going admit defeat at this stage, aren’t you? That might actually be a good idea. Since all of you outnumber us, if you all take your guns out right now, you could certainly kill us. But Mr Holmes is sure to take a few of you down with him too. Is anyone prepared to be one of those ‘few’?”

“Now this is a genuinely fair and exciting challenge. Come on, who wants to join the game?”

Against the two of them, who were proudly putting their lives on the line, not a single person made a move.

In the end, the ‘equality’ that Alan and his accomplices had put forward, was nothing more than a hollow notion bragged about from within their circle of safety.

Having truly fought for his life and come out standing, to these men, William directed a gentle smile.

“Since it seems no one wishes to participate, ——this is game over.”

T/N: You may have noticed that the explanations of the trick are somewhat awkward (haha). It wasn’t explained 100% clearly in the Japanese text �� I took a while to get it myself — so I decided to drop more hints within the text, rather than do so in a footnote. I hope it made sense for you!

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games #illustration insert

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taexual · 4 years ago

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (17)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst → smut (dom!jjk themes but only because he can’t control himself lol)

words: 8.2k

chapter seventeen

Namjoon dropped you off back on campus and was even kind enough – or guilty enough – to offer his help in your search for Jungkook, but you didn’t want to take up any more of his time and, in the case of actually finding Jungkook, you didn’t think you’d make the situation better by having Namjoon with you.

The first thing you did after you exited his car on campus was leave the campus – because you thought that Jungkook may have lingered by the club where Parental Advisory performed tonight; even if his bandmates didn’t seem to think so, since Yoongi insisted they’d lost their lead vocalist – and walking around in the shoes you’d picked today was almost enough to make you regret not asking Namjoon to drive you around, after all.

You hadn’t worn heels but the ballet flats were still not fit for this much walking and, once you circled the club twice and even asked the manager – who was having a smoke outside – if he’d seen Jungkook, you decided that you could understand why Yoongi had been so upset about his bandmate’s disappearance.

As you returned to campus, you decided that you were also ready to strangle Jungkook once you finally found him.

“Have you heard anything from him?” you asked in your text message to Yoongi and then informed him, “I’m on my way to my dorm now to change into more comfortable shoes but I’ll check some of the buildings where he has classes after that.”

Just as you passed the library – and peeked inside because, although slim, there was the possibility that Jungkook may have been hiding out here (he wasn’t) – your phone buzzed with Yoongi’s reply.

“The guys and I will check them,” he was saying, “are there any other places on campus that have some significance to you and him?”

You did a double-take when you finished reading the text, not liking the wave of awkward and misplaced guilt that returned when you fully grasped what Yoongi was implying – he may not have been accusing you of anything, but he was, clearly, convinced that you were the reason why Jungkook missed the encore of his show and then disappeared off of the face of the Earth.

“I’m not sure,” you started to type back as you walked past the double-doors of your dormitory, startling your seemingly drunk RA who had been dozing off on the couch in the first-floor lounge. You stopped typing to press the elevator button, but then resumed, “I’ll walk around. He couldn’t have gone far.”

“He could have,” came Yoongi’s arbitrary – but, frankly, objective – response and you sighed as you read his words, your reflection looking very gloomy in the mirror of the elevator. “But let’s hope he didn’t. If you find him first, kick him where it hurts most. And then punch him for me, too.”

You couldn’t help snickering at the absurdity of the situation that you were in – you definitely never thought you’d end up bonding with Jungkook’s bandmates over your mutual frustration with him – as you typed back your response.

“If his phone isn’t back on within the next ten minutes,” you were saying in your text, stopping for a second when the elevator ding! announced that you’d reached your floor, “I will be doing a lot more than just—”

You stopped typing as an audible gasp escaped your lips, prompted by the sight at the far end of the hallway, right by the door of your dorm. Your phone nearly left your hands, on its way to crash on the floor. You’d caught it—miraculously—your eyes still locked on the figure, sitting on the floor by your door.

“Jungkook,” you said, meaning it as a question but not being able to articulate it properly due to your shock. The dim lighting of the hallway made it difficult for you to make out if it the silhouette was actually him, or if it was someone who was incredibly similar to him.

“Oh,” the person replied and – clumsily – stood up, relying heavily on the wall to help him support his weight. It was Jungkook alright. But barely. “You’re here.”

“I’m—of course, I’m here. I live here,” you said, not sure how to react. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Various unintelligible sounds left your mouth after he said this – the first syllables of all the words you wanted to say in the moment; all of them rated-R – until you settled on watching him for a minute to get some time to form a coherent thought and to asses the damage.

It didn’t look like he’d been in a fight. It simply looked like he got very drunk and plopped down on the floor next to your dorm room.

“Waiting for—Jungkook, fuck—do you know that your band is literally out there, looking for you?” you demanded after inhaling sharply. “There’s a whole search party for you and you’re—you’re here.”

“I was waiting for you to come back,” Jungkook said. He was a lot more sober now than he was hours ago, but he still wasn’t sober enough to recognize his own guilt. Actually, he was probably never sober enough to feel guilty about anything, but alcohol had little to do with it. “I was going to drive over there to find you—”

“You’re drunk,” you snapped, interrupting him.

“Yeah, and that’s why I didn’t,” he said, pausing for more effect as he waited for you to express your admiration for his self-control but, after it didn’t come, he cleared his throat and, sounding disappointed, explained, “I knew you would give me shit if I drove a car drunk and I promised you that I wouldn’t. So I didn’t. I waited for you here instead.”

“You should have known that drunk-driving is unacceptable because that puts you and everyone around you in danger,” you countered, the moral superiority in your voice clouding the meaning of your words, “and not just because I would give you shit if you did it again.”

He rolled his eyes but chose not to expand on this argument because you didn’t look like you were in the right mood to understand his point of view about “conforming to societal norms”, even if it meant that he was putting himself – and those around him – in danger. Not to mention, he was still too tipsy to hold out a proper conversation.

“How long have you been here?” you asked after he didn’t reply.

You were well-aware that you were having this conversation in the hallway when you could have, theoretically, had it in your room. The door was right there. The key was in your handbag.

But entering – and inviting him inside – wasn’t something you were ready for just yet. The adrenaline from not knowing where Jungkook was and what had happened to him still hadn’t faded. Your breathing still hadn’t calmed down – funnily enough, it would not calm down for the rest of the night, but you didn’t know that yet.

“A while,” he replied just as you remembered you were supposed to let Yoongi know you’d located the missing boy. You got your phone out while Jungkook continued, “I bribed your RA with my six-pack of Heineken. Well, actually, it wasn’t really mine, I just took it from the bar, but—”

You stopped typing the text message to give him a hard look. “You stole six bottles of beer?”

Jungkook blinked, thrown off by the fever in your eyes. “No. I took them.”

“Without paying?” you asked. He nodded. “That’s stealing.”

“I do it all the time,” he waved his hand dismissively – and pushed himself off the wall in the process, only to lean back against it again a moment later, when he realized he was still not steady enough on his feet. He nodded his head at your phone, “ask Yoongi. The manager knows us there. We get drinks on the house.”

“I’m—how do you know I’m texting Yoongi?”

“You said there was a search party for me,” he said, taking you off-guard with his accurate conclusions. You wondered what sort of effect alcohol had on him, “Yoongi is the only one that cares enough to lead it.”

He didn’t mean to make it sound sad – in fact, his facial expression remained the same: somewhat cautious and a little irritated – but you still felt an unpleasant pang of misery in the pit of your stomach.

“He’s—well, I care, too,” you said with a nervous cough that was meant to rid you of all pity you felt towards him because pity didn’t justify what he did. “A lot of people care. You can’t just disappear like that in the middle of your show and—”

“It is Yoongi you’re texting, right?” Jungkook asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing. “Not someone else?”

He was probably trying to be nonchalant about it but, consciously or not, he ended up making his question unbearably obvious. The “someone else” may have been an abstract concept to outsiders – your peers, lurking by their doors and watching the argument play out through their peepholes – but you both knew whom Jungkook had in mind.

“Yes,” you said. “I was texting Yoongi. We’d agreed to let each other know if we found you.”

“Okay, good,” Jungkook said and proceeded to act like this was all a mere misunderstanding that wasn’t worth a lengthy discussion. “Can we go inside now? It’s weird to talk in the hall.”

“Are you going to tell me why you got drunk before your show?” you asked, your voice on the edge of yelling. “Or why you skipped out on the encore?”

Understanding that answering this was the one condition to enter your room, Jungkook sighed.

He was hoping you’d come to your own conclusion about this and he could just roll with whatever you thought was the truth – that he was useless, untrustworthy, reckless, and any other thing that people regarded him as – because explaining himself meant talking about his feelings. And he was so good at pretending that he didn’t like to do that.

“Because you weren’t there,” Jungkook answered.

You couldn’t help but groan. You’d gotten so tired of his no-more-than-four-word responses to serious questions, you couldn’t hear any more of them. You hated having to ask specific questions to get him to talk when he knew very well what you wanted to know.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you questioned irritably. “I wasn’t at your previous shows and that didn’t seem to be a problem.”

“Before—”

“Not to mention,” you continued, choosing to let it all out now that he’d shown you he wasn’t going to be completely upfront with you, “you knew where I was. We’d talked about our plans for tonight extensively, and I wasn’t supposed to hear from you until the barbecue ended and you wrapped up your show.”

“Okay, fine,” Jungkook said, his voice rushed. He didn’t want to hear any more of your accusations because he knew he would lose the battle of wits – he would have lost it on an ordinary day, but today, everything he said seemed extremely wrong. “It’s because you were with him.”

“With Namjoon?” you clarified, crossing your arms over your chest.

Not liking your defensive stance, Jungkook swallowed and said slowly, “yes.”

You looked away from him then – as if you were gazing into an unseen camera and waiting for someone to yell that you’d been punk’d – your eyes losing focus.

“Are you kidding me?” you asked with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

“I’m not,” he replied, his jaw clenched. “My own father sent me the picture.”

“The picture?” you raised your eyebrows, almost laughing. “It was just a picture of the company employees! Namjoon happened to be standing next to me. You can’t seriously be acting like that because of something as minor and irrelevant as this. I thought we’d already talked about this.”

Completely forgetting every past conversation, Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Minor and irrelevant,” he repeated, an undeniable snarl in his voice. “Is that what this is? At this point, you spend as much time with him as you do with me.”

“Why is that a problem?” you challenged. “We’d already agreed you wouldn’t do this! I am allowed to hang out with my friends. You have no reason – or no right, for that matter – to react like that. You know there’s nothing going on.”

“I’m not—”

“And I spend even more time with Inna than I do with Namjoon,” you cut him off, “why was she never an issue?”

“Oh, so, Inna, Namjoon, and I are all the same to you?”

You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the trap he must have set for you with this question. “Yes.”

“Oh, how brilliant,” Jungkook scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and turning his back to you as he spat, “your three closest friends.”

“I wouldn’t say—”

He turned around suddenly, his gaze full of blazing fire. “Do you kiss them the way you kissed me last week?”

His words seemed to punch you right in your lungs and all breath left them as you stood there, trying desperately to inhale and suddenly feeling a lot more drunk than he was, despite not having had a single drop of alcohol tonight.

“I didn’t think we were going to talk about that,” you said lamely, all conflict having left you along with your breath. It wasn’t really a response to his question but it was the best you could do when he was looking at you like that.

“We weren’t,” he said. “But only because I could see how much you didn’t want to. I could tell you were pushing me away—”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted you before you could properly interrupt him, and continued his tirade, “and I understand your reasons. I left you seven years ago and friends aren’t supposed to do that. They don’t abandon friends.”

Faced with this point-blank truth, you were forced to lower your eyes to the floor as you attempted to lie, “I-I didn’t—”

“I told you of my reasons back then,” Jungkook said, not needing your excuses. He knew what the truth was and he didn’t blame you for feeling insecure. “I wanted to keep you safe from myself. And maybe I have my reasons now, too.”

“What?” your stomach dropped. When you looked up at him again, he was already standing a few steps closer to you. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to walk away from you,” he said, spilling his next words in one single breath, “but I can’t handle just fake-dating you because the thought of someone else dating you for real, makes me want to tear the fucker up to pieces.”

You didn’t say anything, not entirely sure if you understood his speedy delivery correctly or if your heart was banging against your ribs for no reason.

“And maybe that’s why I should leave,” he spoke then, taking another step towards you and taking over your personal space not with just his words, but with his presence, too. “But we’re both adults now. I’m still learning how to properly be one, but I’d already missed one opportunity to be with you and I can’t miss another one. So, even though I should, I can’t fucking leave. I don’t want to.”

Speaking quietly, you asked, “then don’t.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and you couldn’t find it in yourself to lift your eyes to his and settled on watching his lips instead, which was about ten times worse, “I am—I’m in love with you and I don’t want to be the same as the rest of your friends for you. And I really don’t fucking want to be the same as Namjoon.”

“Namjoon—he drove me here,” you found yourself saying as your mind short-circuited, “to look for you. He’s kind and understanding but neither of us are interested in one another. He… I think he always knew that my heart was elsewhere.”

This time, it was Jungkook who needed a full explanation, not an off-handed excuse. “Where?”

Right here, you would have said but you chose to show him instead as you leaned in closer, removing the remaining bits of distance between you by gently touching his lips with yours.

Jungkook reacted immediately, responding to you and refusing to let you pull away by placing one of his hands on your right elbow and another one on your waist. He wasted a split-second when he pulled back to inhale, but then he made up for it by kissing you again, his lips closing against yours in a tight lip-lock.

You pulled back, however, a smacking noise echoing around the hallway as you did, whispering to him, “are you still drunk?”

“Not in the slightest,” Jungkook replied breathlessly before pressing his lips to yours again.

Kissing him back and feeling how the quick, gentle pecks turned into deep, open-mouthed kisses as his tongue caressed your lower lip before making its way into your mouth, made your mind hazy and you were forced to hold onto him tighter.

He sighed into the kiss; the feeling of you clutching the flaps of his jacket was more than enough to make him lose his mind.

And then you let go suddenly, pulling away yet again.

“Are you going to do it again?” you asked because you had to hear him say it. “Are you going to leave? Stop talking to me?”

To be honest, Jungkook would have promised you the world in that moment. Hell, he’d have promised you the whole universe when you looked at him like that – with eyes full of need and parted lips as you tried to catch your breath.

“Never,” he told you.

You seemed to read his mind. “You better not be saying that so we could keep kissing.”

He could have laughed at this if he didn’t know how much this meant to you – how much this meant to you-and-him – but he did know, and that’s why he took your hand, pulling it away from the flap of his denim jacket, and placing it squarely on his chest.

“I promise,” he said in tandem with his heartbeat.

Your lips crashed against each other again and the collision could have had painful consequences if your hands wouldn’t have been there to soften it. You held onto one another, pulling each other closer despite already touching everywhere it was possible to touch.

You could still taste the alcohol on his tongue but you could also taste him – mint and strawberries – especially when he used one of his hands to tilt your face in the right angle that allowed his tongue to play with yours. And then, as if he’d just snapped his fingers, you completely forgot about your surroundings and focused on kissing him back.

His touch ignited your skin and, as soon as he lifted the corner of your shirt and barely grazed your bare hip with the tips of his fingers, you already knew he’d started a fire you couldn’t put out.

In a rare moment when your mind cleared – all because Jungkook needed to inhale before he kissed you again – you realized that you were still in the hallway where, technically, anyone could have seen you.

Except that didn’t scare you much.

What scared you was this very realization: you wouldn’t have cared who saw you here, as long as he was still so close.

“My keys,” you whispered. He understood what you were saying – and what you implied by that – but he’d have rather been struck by lightning than voluntarily pulled away from you.

And so, forgetting your sanity for a yet another moment, you cherished in the feeling of his lips on yours, letting him push you against the wall next to your door.

Only when his body was pressed so tightly against yours that you found yourself trapped in the most delightful way possible, did you realize that this wasn’t going to be enough and you needed to leave the hallway before it escalated.

“Jungkook—” you tried again, pulling away this this time. Naturally, he lowered his head to kiss the side of your face instead, going down to your jawline and planting kisses on your neck, all while you desperately tried to find the keys in your handbag, your hands – and your entire body – shaking. “I can’t—ah, please, let me—the door—”

Jungkook would have pulled away from you if you’d asked but you weren’t asking – you didn’t want him to. And he had a hard time focusing on what you were saying anyway, especially when the beginning of his name never left the tip of your tongue.

Finally, your fingers located your keychain and pulled it out from your handbag. But blindly unlocking the door proved to be even more difficult than finding the keys.

Had you been less lost in each other, you could have stopped kissing for one minute to enter your dorm room, but any thought of disconnecting your mouths and bodies seemed ridiculous and impractical. Why would you waste your time by not kissing each other?

You managed to push the key into the lock through sheer luck, and then, hoping to open the door, you took a step forwards, away from the wall and into Jungkook – who didn’t mind being the one who held you, not letting you get too far away from him.

The speed with which you entered your room once the door was opened, would have probably knocked you both off your feet. But God favored those who were in love, and, the thing that you ended up knocking down, was just the bowl for keys that you and Inna kept by the door. You couldn’t have cared less about it – you barely even heard it clatter against the floor.

Following the invisible pull towards your bed, you and Jungkook successfully maneuvered past the door frame separating the bedroom area from the hallway, and – only stumbling once, when he pulled back to take his jacket off – you finally reached the privacy of your room.

“If you want me to stop,” Jungkook mumbled against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours as he held your body against his; your bed was right behind you and you knew you’d have fallen on it with the smallest push from him, “you have to tell me now because—” he kissed you again with the same raw hunger as before, “I don’t think I’ll be able to leave otherwise.”

“No,” you breathed, matching the intensity of his kisses with your own, “don’t stop.”

And that was the permission he needed to nudge you forwards until he landed on top of you on your bed, leaning on his elbows on either side of you. It was so similar to the way you’d made out on Sunday night in his parents’ house, and yet, it was so different, too, because you were past the point of caring about any interruptions now.

If someone knocked on your door right then – if someone walked in – you wouldn’t have even flinched.

Lifting your shirt and exposing more of your skin for his impatient fingers to explore, Jungkook was forced to break the kiss again, so he could fully take the garment off. And then he had to pause again so he could take a quick breather because of how ethereal you looked like this: half-naked and daring him to keep going with your eyes.

“Jungkook,” your soft whisper brought him back to life and helped him realize that this time, he wasn’t dreaming. This time, he had you here with him.

And so, he took his own shirt off before leaning down to kiss you again – clumsily and sloppily – and the new feeling of his bare skin against yours was enough for you to arch your back off the bed, all so you could feel more of him.

“Fuck,” Jungkook cursed before bringing his hands up your sides and kissing down your neck. Encouraged by the sound of your whimpers when he gently brought his teeth over the spot below your collarbone, he sucked on the skin there with more force, leaving faint bruises.

Your hands slid down to his waist – reaching for the buckle of his belt – but they froze when you felt his tongue soothe over the new mark he’d made on your neck. It stung but you felt more pleasure than pain and, for a good minute, that pleasure was all you could focus on.

You felt his fingertips dance around the edge of your bra and heavy breaths left his lips when he brought his face back to yours, stopping just close enough to feel the pull of your lips, but far enough to still be able to look you in the eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, successfully undoing your bra in his first attempt – he wouldn’t have called himself an expert in that particular area; he was just determined to always get what he wanted and he wanted you.

You barely had enough time to hum in response before he lowered his face and reconnected your lips, sliding the straps of your bra down your shoulders in a motion so slow, you nearly threw him off the bed and did it yourself.

Instead, you chose to concentrate on finally undoing his belt, which wasn’t going well due to how badly your hands were shaking. But, once you finally succeeded and got through to the zipper of his jeans, it seemed like Jungkook was no longer so dead-set on taking this slow, either.

“Oh,” a sigh passed your lips when he threw your bra to a side and repositioned himself in-between your legs, his hips grinding into yours in a dangerously satisfying way that only left you wanting more. “Please, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he spoke and his normally melodious voice seemed deeper now.

He placed a kiss to your lips again and then pulled away to slide your jeans down your legs, tossing them aside before bringing his hands over the bare skin of your ankles, then up your calves, over your knees, and down your thighs again.

“Jungkook,” you tried again, “do something, please.”

“Hmm,” he wasn’t entirely aware of his surroundings as he cherished in the feeling of your skin right under his fingertips. He had to touch – to feel – all of you, so every bit of your body, every crevice and every wrinkle, remembered him.

Your breath got caught in your throat when he finally reached the waistband of your panties, and Jungkook was convinced he was going to die when he took them off of you – but he didn’t mind dying in the slightest, not if he got to see you like this first.

“I’m going to make you feel so,” he said, lifting your hips off the bed—just barely—so he could slide your panties down your legs, “so good.”

And he resolved to show you that he meant it, peppering the insides of your thighs with butterfly kisses that were the complete opposite of the tight grip he had on you.

Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he felt the way your body shuddered in anticipation as his kisses neared your core and he could feel his own pants tighten uncomfortably around his now rock-hard length.

Placing a soft, chaste kiss right above your clit, Jungkook heard your deep breath and that encouraged him to keep going, applying more force to his kisses as he went lower. Finally, just as your hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheets underneath you, he spread your lower lips with his tongue and lightly—so lightly, that you weren’t sure you didn’t just imagine this—licked his way up to your clit.

“Oh, shit,” you threw your head back and Jungkook – who’d already proved how much positive reinforcements meant to him – released a guttural breath that vibrated against your core.

The sensation added more to the blissful feeling of his tongue as he finally flattened it against your mound, licking and sucking with a loud and sloppy slurping sound.

You gasped when the previously teasing motions increased in speed and his tongue circled around your entrance, touching and tasting you in clockwise movements, never forgetting to pay special attention to the most sensitive spots on and around your clit.

“You taste so sweet,” Jungkook spoke breathlessly and you struggled to understand him not just because of how good he was making you feel with his mouth, but also because he did not pull away far enough and his words quavered against your core. “Talk to me.”

“I-I’m—that’s good,” you tried to say but your head was spinning, “so good, you—oh! Oh, fuck, Jungkook!”

Almost screaming out in surprise, you felt his fingers against your core, gentle and careful for the first second, but eager and energetic the next as Jungkook explored the wetness around your entrance. Bringing his tongue over your clit, he slid two of his fingers inside, ready to stop and wait for your reaction but that was not needed.

Arching your back off the bed, you sighed deeply and pleaded far louder than you’d intended, “p-please—”

Smirking to himself as you struggled to finish your sentences, he sped up his movements, not giving you a moment to collect your breath as he rubbed the insides of your walls with his fingers and sucked on your clit, the slow movements of his tongue contrasting with how quickly he was moving inside of you.

“Good girl,” he said, his hot breath against your core making your whole body tingle. He felt one of your hands touch his hair, grabbing onto it; softly at first, but gradually pulling harder when the circling motions of his fingers sped up. “Are you close, baby? Tell me.”

You were close – and the pet name only increased the burning pleasure inside of you – but, at that point, you were only capable of moaning weakly, “hmmm, yes. Don’t stop, please, d-don’t—”

Gasping again as Jungkook removed his mouth from you, readjusting himself on the bed so he could move his fingers in and out of you quicker, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to keep your sounds to a minimum.

“Nngh—so close,” you spoke and just then, you felt his thumb rub vicious circles on your clit. The motion was so delicious, you were forced to abandon your attempts to stay quiet, almost shouting when you felt your walls tighten, already so close to your edge.

He could feel you clench around his fingers – a feeling that did no good to the painful hardness in his pants – and applied more force to his movements, maintaining the same speed that allowed him to pay equal attention to your swollen clit and the soft walls inside of you.

“Come for me,” he said, his voice coarse. “I want to watch you come for me, baby, please.”

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you groaned, barely able to catch your breath as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, circling and curling them in a way that was just right, until the knot in your stomach unraveled with a pop so strong, your whole body seemed to lift up from the bed as you whimpered, unable to make any other noise.

Watching you lose control of your body, Jungkook used his free hand to hold you down as he kept the pace up with his fingers while you rode out your high. Barely any sound left your mouth when you reached your peak but your heavy breaths and the rise and fall of your chest as you came still overflooded his senses.

Jungkook didn’t think it was healthy to need someone this much.

When you opened your eyes a moment later, still breathing heavily, he was hovering above you, leaning on one arm as he sucked on his fingers, exhaling shakily when you bit your lip.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to have you here like this,” he said, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you sound like this.”

Still overwhelmed and momentarily rendered speechless by the strength of your climax, you replied to him by sitting up so you could reach his lips with yours.

Kissing him – and hearing him growl into the kiss as soon as your hips pressed into his, adding pressure against his hard length – you could distinctly taste yourself on his tongue, but Jungkook wasn’t going to give you a lot of time to analyze all the different sensations you were feeling; he flipped you over until he was on his back, and you were straddling his hips.

Being on top of him gave you a lot more control of the situation, but it also made the shaking of your hands all the more obvious. You lifted yourself off him slightly to slide his jeans and boxers down, not bothering with teasing him – even though, that would have been the fair thing to do, considering how slowly he’d undressed you before.

He didn’t regret that one bit – that was plain obvious in the darkness of his lustful eyes that followed your every move – but he did wish you went a little faster because each brush of your hands right by his length made him think he was going to explode.

“There’s a condom,” he said, swallowing, “in the pocket of my jacket.”

You had to look around the room to find the jacket and, when you located it, it still took you a few minutes to get the glittering wrapper out. Biting your lip as you made your way back to Jungkook – sprawled almost helplessly on your bed – you couldn’t help yourself.

“Do you always carry condoms around in the pocket of your—”

“No,” he replied, obviously not very interested in discussing his condom-bearing habits when you were unwrapping the packaging with your teeth after your fingers weren’t enough.

“Ah, so today was a special occasion?” you asked, smiling teasingly because your heart wasn’t really in this conversation, either – you could analyze why he’d brought the condoms with him later.

Unrolling some of the latex in your hands, your fingers finally touched his length as you pinched the tip of the condom and rolled it down his shaft. Jungkook exhaled with a low grunt, not particularly enjoying himself in a position this vulnerable – he didn’t think the simple act of putting a condom on had ever aroused him this much before – but not being able to do anything about it because this was you.

And if you wanted to take your time with the condom – since you seemed to double-check to make sure if it was really properly on; he thought you were just teasing him, really – then, he was going to let you take your time.

For the first twenty seconds, anyway.

Just as you raised your eyes to meet his, Jungkook sat up and pulled you closer to him, only lying back down on the bed when he made sure his arms were wrapped around your body, which was pressed against his as tightly as he could manage without breaking any of your ribs with his arms.

“If I wait any longer,” he whispered, his mouth so close to yours, you could almost taste him as he spoke, “I’m really going to pass out.”

“Well,” you said, your heart beating wildly behind your ribcage and echoing against his chest, “then don’t wait.”

“Fuck,” was the last word that left his mouth before he connected your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss and sat up a bit to reach his length with his hand and position himself at your entrance. “Tell me if you want me to stop.

“Mmhmm—oh,” your hum of approval was quick to turn into a shaky gasp as his length slid inside of you, stretching you out far more than his fingers had before.

He watched your facial expression the whole time, entering you slowly, inch by inch, so he could stop if he noticed any pain. Mercifully, the only thing he noticed in your eyes was a silent plea to keep going – well, that, and the fact that you did most of the job for him by lowering yourself on him until he was fully inside of you – and Jungkook was sure of it: he was most certainly going to lose it.

“I’m not going to last long,” he warned breathlessly, “you’re s-so tight—you feel so good—I—”

His grip on you had loosened, which allowed you to place one hand on his chest and push him into the bed, until his head landed back on the pillow. As soon as he bottomed out inside of you, he stopped and you closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing for a second, before you looked up at him again and lifted your hips.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook whispered, his hands clutching your hips so tightly, he was probably going to leave imprints there.

Lowering yourself on him again, you sighed deeply, unsure what brought you more pleasure – the sight of his starved gaze and swollen lips as he allowed you to set the pace, or the feeling of his length, caressing your inner walls and reaching places so deep inside of you, you could have used a warning.

“Y-you’re so—mm, good,” you mewled, your hips rising and falling on top of him as you tried to get used to the feeling but failed, your walls clenching around him each time you moved.

“Baby,” Jungkook said and it was almost a whine, “I need you to go faster. Can you do that for me?”

“Hmm,” you weren’t sure what he was saying.

Your senses were malfunctioning as you lost yourself in the feeling, so, instead of going faster, you lowered yourself until you could feel your walls hug his entire length. You stayed still for a moment, but hearing him sigh in desperation, you finally started to move again – grinding your hips against his quicker.

“O-oh,” the sudden change of pace took him off guard as Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut. The feeling of your warmth wrapped so tightly around him was pure bliss. “That’s good. Y-you’re doing so good.”

You continued to move on top of him, grinding your hips in large and smaller figure-eights, as Jungkook slid his hands up and down your sides, feeling your silky skin and gently kneading your breasts. He brought his fingertips over your sensitive nipples and, noticing how your breath got caught in your throat as soon as he did, he applied more pressure to his touch.

“Jungkook,” you said weakly and then completely lost your voice when he sat up – suddenly reaching even deeper inside of you, even though that probably shouldn’t have even been possible – and brought his tongue to your nipple, carefully toying with it at first, and then sucking harder later.

Your hips were still moving against his but you were losing your stamina, not at all helped by the fact that his smallest touch nearly tipped you over the edge.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you sighed and, somewhere in his own name, he heard the request for him to take over.

Fully immersed in the feeling of having you on top of him, Jungkook had no plans to change the position. He pulled away from your breasts, licking his lips, and then, finding a more fitting position on the bed, he locked both of your arms behind you by wrapped a hand around your waist and lifting his hips off the mattress.

He roughly thrust into you once – and then once more because he couldn’t stop himself – and then paused to gauge your reaction. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed, but your parted lips and the excited movement of your hips as they met his when he moved, was a clear indication that you didn’t mind the faster pace.

“Look at me,” he instructed, not moving until you did. “Good girl.”

Finally, he slammed his hips into yours again, this time not pausing for a single second, even though both of you were completely breathless already. His length drilled into you, rubbing your walls until the fire in your stomach started to spread and you involuntarily closed your eyes again, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Jungkook—”

“What did I tell you, baby?” he asked, holding your hands behind your back with one of his arms, as he used his other hand to bring your face to his again. You opened your eyes. “That’s it. Are you close?”

“Hmm—I-I’m—” the next words didn’t come out when Jungkook straightened his posture and thrust into you with enough force to send you backwards until you were laying flat on your back again. “Fuck, I’m really close.”

His hips continued the relentless pace but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep going, especially with the way you squeezed around him each time he re-entered your warmth. You could already feel your orgasm creeping in as you bit your lip and felt your vision go out of focus, the ceiling of your room spinning as the whole place seemed to shake from the force of his hips.

“Don’t look away,” Jungkook spoke, breathing heavily and setting himself up for failure because he nearly collapsed as soon as you returned your eyes to his – all dark and clouded with near-euphoric delight. “I want you to look at me when you come, yeah? Will you do that for me, baby—please?”

“Y-yes—” you managed, barely getting the word out before you felt Jungkook readjust his weight by leaning on one arm and lowering his other one to your core.

He brought his thumb over your clit and, matching the speed of his hips thrusting in and out of you, he began to rub circles on your already over-stimulated center.

“Jungkook!” you weren’t sure if you were screaming, your heartbeat was too loud in your ears as you felt yourself tip over the edge. “Oh, fuck, fuck—right there!”

“Y-yeah? Does that feel good, baby?,” he groaned, “I can’t hold out for much longer, so I’m going to need you to come for me. Hmm?”

“I’m—please, fuck—” your pleas turned into an incomprehensible mess when Jungkook applied more pressure to your clit, flicking it before rubbing it in circles again, and you were completely done for.

Throwing your head back against the mattress and lifting your hips to meet his, you reached your high and Jungkook – cursing and trying his hardest not to lose his balance – bit his lip because he knew he was going to follow right after you.

His hips had slowed, although only a little, as he continued the assault on your senses by thrusting his throbbing member into you and simultaneously rubbing your clit all through your orgasm.

Your warm walls that hugged his length tightened around him when you came and, groaning loudly, he felt his own climax take over him. He stopped moving with one final thrust into you, loud grunts mixed with your name leaving his lips as he released himself into the condom.

Breathing heavily but still not getting enough oxygen, you both stayed still as you tried to recover.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook exhaled when he regained some control of his body. His eyes met yours and he did not hesitate before adding, “I love you. I’ve loved you for so fucking long.”

You allowed a heavy moment of silence to pass as you watched him. Then, you propped yourself up on your elbows and brought your lips to his. The kiss may have been less enthusiastic than the one in the hallway earlier tonight, but it still didn’t lack any heat.

“I love you,” you replied, the words as pointless as they were necessary, because your feelings for each other had been obvious from the very beginning, but neither of you confronted them. “I’ve loved you for much longer.”

“No,” he disagreed, kissing you again as he pulled out of you and rolled off to the edge of the bed so he could discard of the condom. Turning to look at you one more time before standing up, he said, very matter-of-fact, “I’ve loved you my whole life. Through every happy moment and every fuck-up, and every—”

With your lips stretching into a smile, you warned, “don’t try to one-up me with your pillowtalk.”

He already had his back turned to you as he walked towards the bin in the corner of your room, but you heard him laugh. When he turned around to return to you, there was a wide smile on his bright, red lips, still wet and swollen from kissing you.

“That’s not pillowtalk,” he countered, laying down next to you and draping an arm over your waist as he nuzzled his face into your neck with a delighted hum, “that’s just me telling you what I was supposed to tell you on the day I talked to you at my party.”

“I’m glad you told me now,” you replied, lifting one of your hands to touch his disheveled hair and the few stray curls that were stuck to his sweaty forehead, “even if you did cause a scene today.”

The softness of your touch was almost the exact opposite of the hidden razor-sharp meaning behind your words. Jungkook – who’d closed his eyes so he could breathe you in – suddenly lifted himself up on his elbows and gave you an inquiring look.

“I did not cause a scene,” he said, not in a very defensive manner because he did not think he needed to defend himself, “I was peacefully waiting for you to come back home. You caused a scene when you saw me.”

“I—oh, wow,” you scoffed in surprise, “you really are an expert at blame-shifting.”

He would have protested – and he was going to – but laying here next to you, with not a single piece of clothing preventing him from feeling the softness of your skin, he just shrugged. There were far more important things to focus on, he decided as he traced indiscernible patterns on your navel.

“Don’t do that again, though, okay?” you asked him then.

Smiling – because he was proud of his title as the resident Little Shit – Jungkook replied, “which part, exactly?”

The feeling of his fingertips dancing on your stomach was distracting, but you persevered for the greater good.

“Don’t change all of your plans if I spend time with someone else,” you said, swallowing. “Don’t put yourself in danger.”

“I won’t.”

His promise was brief but he leaned down to kiss you to seal it, and the feeling of his lips against yours had more impact than just his words alone. Then, pulling away a moment too soon, Jungkook surprised you with a warning look in his eyes.

“But don’t ask me not to kiss you in public,” he said. “Don’t ask me not to hold your hand. Don’t—”

You blinked, not following him. “W-wait, why? I wasn’t going to ask.”

“No, but you already did. At the last party we went to?” he said and then tried to jog your memory by adding, in a vexed tone, “when you were talking to Brock, and I—”

The party – and the long, long conversation that followed – returned to your mind even before the mention of Brock. You were just trying to understand why Jungkook was thinking about all of that now.

“Well, that’s because you were being a possessive dipshit,” you told him as an explanation, not an excuse.

You weren’t apologizing for standing up for yourself when you felt like your dignity was threatened, and he didn’t need you to. What he needed, was for you to understand that:

“I still am a possessive dipshit,” he said with the most unapologetic grin you’d ever seen adorning his features.

“Oh, yeah?” you raised your eyebrows, the mock-surprise completing your sarcastic look, “would not have guessed.”

“Funny,” he leaned down to kiss you again before making it clear, “I can’t stop myself from wanting everyone to know—”

“But they do know,” you said, cutting him off but not sharply, “everyone knows, Jungkook. You’ve made your point.”

“No, people still have doubts about us,” he said, “they’re still not fully convinced that you’re—that we’re together,” he paused, flashing back to the night at the party and remembering the words you’d said to him then, “but they don’t matter. It’s not about them. It’s about us. And I don’t want to imply that I own you or that you’re an object—or anything of the sort. I know you’re a person. You’re a great person. And you belong to yourself. You’re yours. B-but can you be a little bit mine, too?”

“I am,” you said and, even though you may not have always liked it, this was the truth. There was no way around it. So, pressing a soft kiss to his waiting lips, you admitted, “I’ve always been yours as much as I’ve been mine.”

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crowdedimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Leaked - Harry Styles

2.8k :)

“Y/n?” His voice rings out a soft echo. The only noise in my room tonight. I simply answered so the incessant buzzing on my nightstand would finally cease. If only I had checked the contact, I wouldn’t be sitting up straight in bed, staring into the black of my room.

“Hello?” I answer back after a long enough pause for both of us to know that I have just woken up and I wasn’t fully aware of what I was answering.

“I’m sorry to wake you. I forgot what time it is there right now.” I can hear some shuffling on his end, it sounds like he’s getting up and walking around. He must be in London right now, not in his home only a ten minute drive from mine in Malibu. I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, letting my comforter drop from my shoulders.

“What’s wrong Harry?” I ask, cutting to the chase. The slight nervous edge in his voice tells me that something is most definitely wrong. I can’t just sit in silence waiting for the world to stop, I need him to spit it out. Spit out whatever made him call me after nearly a year of no longer being together.

“I had a leak. Someone hacked my phone.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but this was far from it. I let out a sigh, he’s okay. At least physically. I can feel a slight weight lift off my chest, but it’s far from light still.

“Okay?” I prompt for him to continue.

“It’s pictures of you, Y/n.”

And to think I was worried about him. His words make my ears ring for a few seconds. An eerie pitch fills the void between us, neither of us knowing the words to help this situation.

“Which pictures?”

I switch Harry to speaker and open twitter, ignoring the mass texts that are coming in right now. My manager and my publicist ranting on our group chat but the messages fade into the background as soon as my eyes cross the trending page.

“Um-”

#Y/n’sleaked

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” My hands start shaking as I look over the images shared with the entire world. Not even just one, multiple over the time we shared a relationship.

A picture I sent him on tour, standing in our mirror with not a thread of clothing. Bare as the day I was born. I remember taking this picture as a tease right before he had to take the stage at Madison Square Garden. Now more people than can fit in Madison Square Garden have seen that picture.

Next, is a picture of me in a rather compromising position on my knees looking up at him. It’s not hard to tell what was happening or about to happen. Harry took this one, It was already a hot night for us, and somehow him pulling out his phone snapping a quick picture made it even hotter. Now I need to worry about my family ever seeing this.

Finally, the most modest of the group, a picture of me in simple dark red lingerie thrown on the bed by Harry. Once again, a picture that Harry had snapped himself. I had just come home from tour and he answered our door and I dropped everything I had, including the clothes I had been wearing. He chased me up to our room, he finally caught me in our room and literally threw me on the bed. He pulled out his phone claiming he wanted to remember the sheer joy he was feeling in that moment. Now it’s bringing me dread.

Tweet after tweet sharing the same group of photos.

Harry doesn’t say a single word, knowing that I’ve seen exactly what he was trying to break down to me.

“Oh my god.” I shutter, refreshing as the tweets come in by the hundreds.

“Y/n I-”

I hang up before he can utter another word. I can’t speak with him right now, knowing exactly who’s to blame for putting me out there like that. We broke up nearly a year ago, if he had simply deleted the photos once the relationship was over, maybe we wouldn’t be here.

I read the thread of messages between Jordan my manager and Paula my publicist. Both are trying to diffuse the situation. I wonder how they found out, did they get a call at two in the morning from Jeff?

I simply reply that in the morning to meet at my house to get everything sorted out, there’s no point in stressing over what we can’t change and losing sleep over it. They both agree to be at my house bright and early at seven.

I put my phone back down and pull myself under the covers. At least for a few more hours this can’t be real. A few more hours I can hide under the covers and pretend that this isn’t happening.

I put coffee on, knowing that the girls will be here any moment, hopefully with a plan in hand on how we can diffuse the situation.

“Good morning.” Paula smiles cheerily followed by Jordan who just has a tight smile.

“Please tell me there’s something we can do.” I sit down on my touch, letting my hands warm on the mug.

“Yes, we-kind of!” Paula gushes.

I look to Jordan for a clear answer. Paula has always been a little nuttier, I love her to death, but right now I need serious and I need a plan. I need cold and honest.

“I talked with Jeff for a while last night and we both agree that we think it’s best for us to meet up together to discuss a course of action in person. We have a flight in an hour.”

“So you’re telling me that my nudes leak from his phone and now I have to hop on a plane to go see him?” My jaw must reach the floor by now.

“It’ll be better to get this all sorted out with both teams together. We have the same common goal here, we just want to make this look a little better.”

“Easy for you to say when it’s not your body trending on Twitter.”

“I wasn’t the one sending them.” She raises her brow, she’s told me a dozen times to never put myself in a position like this. That there can’t be any leaks when you don’t take anything private.

I climb upstairs to my room and grab a bag to start packing. I throw on a cute sweat suit and find a pair of dark tinted sunglasses. If anything, the airport is the last place I should be right now. The paparazzi are worse than they’ve ever been, even with Harry, I’ve never been bombarded like this. They throw question after question to me, hoping to get the first scoop on me the morning after it leaked. While it’s still hot and trending with every news outlet.

“Jesus.” Paula mutters, “Still got all your fingers and toes?”

I smile finally, “I’m fine, thank you.”

The flight is peaceful, thankfully. Jordan types a mile a minute on her laptop next to me. Surely, trying to work out a plan and get as many pictures taken down as possible. Not that it matters now, it’s out in the world forever now.

A sleek black car picks us up and drives the familiar route to Harry’s London home. We pull into the driveway and it knocks the air out of my lungs as soon as my feet hit the ground. There’s several cars that don’t belong to Harry, which means it’s a full house today.

I let Jordan walk in first, letting myself weakly trail behind. I haven’t seen Harry since the break up. Maybe once at an award show, but it was far away and we didn’t exchange words. I definitely didn’t think I would be stepping into his house again.

“Jordan.” Jeff greets, getting up from the dining table where it looks like people have set up camp. A whole crew of people making calls, scouring Twitter, and god knows what else.

“Hi, Jeff.” She smiles.

I look around a little, trying not to be obvious. The house looks the same, Hardly a single thing out of place in over a year. Not that I expect it too, I never fully lived here outside of a few weeks at a time. It’s not like our shared Malibu home that we sold in the break up. This place was always predominantly his.

Speaking of Harry, finally he looks up from his phone, he had been biting at his cuticles probably worrying, panicking. He tucks his phone in his back pocket and walks over to the rest of us. Paula instantly pulls him down for a hug, she always loved him.

“Harry!” She sighs.

He lets out a soft laugh and bends down to hug her short stature. We make eye contact a few times, but never say anything.

“I wish this was under different circumstances.” Paula whispers, even though we still all catch it.

“No hug? Harry teases Jordan. They were never close but at least he’s attempting to lighten the mood. Harry is probably the last person on this planet that she wants to hug.

“I’m not your biggest fan right now.” Jordan sighs, her steel cold gaze returns. I bite back a smirk over how protective she can be sometimes.

“Y/n, I-” Harry starts, finally turning his full attention to me.

“Y/n!” A louder voice cuts him off, I glance over his shoulder to see Gemma getting up from the couch in the living room, Anne close behind.

“Oh my god, I’ve missed you!” She pulls me in for a hug, her arms pulling me in tight, as if to make up for the months of nearly no contact.

“I’ve missed you too, Gem.” I tighten my grip around her.

Anne appears in my line of vision now, smiling softly. I release my grip on Gemma and she does the same, Anne taking her place.

“You’ll get through this, darling.” She whispers softly as she rubs her hand up and down my back. Her words bring tears to my eyes. I’ve tried to not let myself be sad about this. I’ve only felt anger, but hugging Anne has opened the floodgates. “You’re strong.”

“I need to freshen up.” I clear my throat, Anne pulls back and smiles.

No one says a word as I excuse myself to the closest guest bathroom. I wash my face with cold water and take a few deep breaths trying to prepare myself somewhat for what I have to go out there and face. I open the door and notice Harry leaning against the wall across from the door.

“Hi.” He picks his head up, no longer staring at the ground.”

“Hi.” I say back.

“Y/n I am so sorry. I had no clue any of this would happen. If I had known-”

“Why did you keep the pictures Harry?” I ask, I want answers not apologies. He’s still Harry and I know he’s feeling so much guilt right now.

“I don’t really know.” He shrugs, “I wasn’t being pervy with them, wasn’t keeping them for any indecent reason. They were just another memory that I didn’t want to lose. I didn’t delete any of the pictures.”

I can’t think of a response which is fine because Jeff calls for both of us to join them. We sit down at the table along with a few unfamiliar faces. As soon as we do they dive into the details, talking about how somehow Harry’s iCloud was hacked and that meant they had access to all photos.

“Well why are my pictures the only ones out there? It’s his phone that got hacked!” I yell.

“We don’t know.” Jordan answers, “We don’t know what else they got either. If they have more that they’re waiting to sell.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Harry mutters, rubbing over his eyes.

“Well Harry, got anything else I should worry about? Or any other girls you should warn?” I turn to look at him, a flash of red creeps up his neck and hangs around on his cheeks. It was a low blow, but it slips out before I can stop it.

“There’s no one else.” Harry answers, “And for other pictures I don’t know to be completely honest.

“Well, it might help for us to get an idea of what else could be out there. We should try and get an idea of what else the two of you have.” Jeff's words make me look to Anne, now it’s my turn to blush but she isn’t phased by any of it so far.

“Well it could be worse.” A man from Harry’s team states as he shuts his lap top, leaning in to join the conversation.

“How so?” Gemma prompts crossing her arms over her chest.

“Any publicity is good-”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence.” I cut off the man before he can continue. “You can’t talk. You can’t say any publicity is good publicity. Not until your body is trending on Twitter. Not until everyone with social media has seen your body, talked about it, and used it. Not until you have to call your parents and tell them you’re sorry and to stay away from phones for a while. Not until your body is no longer your body.”

The chair loudly scrapes against the floor as I stand up. I can’t sit here at the table and listen to them talk about it like it’s not as huge as it is. Because to them this is work, to me it’s my real life. I make my way towards the back porch. It’s always been one of my favorite spots. It’s got the best view of the garden.

I trust Jordan for decisions on this. She knows me well enough after all of these years together. They’ll run anything else past me, but I don’t need to be in there while they attempt damage control.

I sit down on the outdoor couch and pull my legs up to my chest. It’s peaceful for a few minutes and I just let myself bask in it. I could probably fall asleep if I tried, jet lag and all. It’s soft, but still loud enough for me to hear the door open. I turn to see Harry just standing there, trying not to invade my bubble while still giving me my space.

“C’mon.” I nod to the spot beside me. There’s no point in being mad anymore. What’s done is done. I will always love Harry more than the drama.

He shuffles over and takes a seat. A slow fog rolls in as it slowly gets darker.

“Do you ever miss it?” His voice quiet and steady. I don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about our relationship.

“Harry, we dated for three years, of course I’m going to miss that. Now what’s got you all sentimental? See those pictures and remember how good of a lay I am?” I tease bumping his shoulder with mine, with a smirk. He lets out an airy laugh, easing the tension.

“No, even before these past few days.” He finally looks over at me, tearing his eyes away from the yard, “I always miss you.”

“Harry.” I sigh. “We both agreed. We were both touring, we never even saw each other. And when we weren’t we were stuck in the studio. Different studios I might add.”

“Isn’t rarely seeing each other better than never?”

His question hangs in the air, both of us leaving it unanswered.

“I don’t know, Harry.” I answer after several minutes. The sun dips below the horizon, and my head dips down to his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

I don’t know how long we sit like that. The sun is gone now, and the breeze actually feels cold, but Harry’s arm is heavy and warm around my shoulder.

The door suddenly opens causing both of our heads to perk up. It’s Gemma with the smallest smile on her face.

“They’re asking for you guys in there.”

“Ready, love?” Harry stands, holding out a hand to pull me up with him.

“Well it’s now or never.”

part two? let me know what you guys think

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles

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thusspoketrish · 3 years ago

Text

Words Are Very Unnecessary

TW: Dark fic; Angst; mental illness; mention of past suicide attempt; implied self-harm; scarring; psychiatric ward; unethical medical practices/harm; inappropriate patient/doctor/staff interactions; shifting tenses

Created for the prompt Pretend for @drarrymicrofic

Title taken from Depeche Mode’s Enjoy the Silence

3.3K words. This is something that I may consider coming back to expand on in the future. READ ON AO3.

A heartwarming thank you to @starlitsilvereyes for the thorough beta!

When Healer Robins announces that Harry will not be carrying out his final rotation at St Mungo’s, he’s shocked. He’s done everything he can within the last few months to prove himself capable: he’s completed his clinical rotations with commendations, he’s saved lives, he’s brought coffee and donuts in from his favourite bakery in Diagon every Friday, and he’s even played nice with the first-year Trainee Healers. But as Healer Robins announces his fate, Harry not only feels the bottom of his stomach fall—he can practically feel the smug smile burning a hole into the back of his head from his colleague, competitor, and overall pain in his arse, Blaise Zabini.

“I’m sorry Harry, but Blaise has already proven quite successful with some of the patients in Janus Thickey. I’m afraid that if we remove him, many of the patients will respond negatively to the change,” Healer Robins says, aiming a warm smile at Zabini.

“And you have a muggle vehicle, that James Bond-looking thing, am I right, Harry?” Zabini asks.

Harry turns to face him. He hates to admit it, but Zabini looks attractive in the lime green robes—but everything about him is stylish, with his broad shoulders, his fancy clothing under his robes, his stylish haircut. Too stylish for a Healer, Harry thinks glumly, staring down at his beat-up trainers he’s had for three years now. Harry grimaces as the other man smiles widely at him. He’d wager his entire Gringotts vault that Zabini has charmed a tooth to twinkle when he smiles like that.

“Yeah, why?” Harry grunts. He doesn’t want to show just how disappointed he is over missing out on the Thickey Ward, but he’s never been that great at compartmentalising his feelings.

“You’ll need one where you’re going,” Healer Robins says.

--------

As soon as Harry pulled his sleek black ’52 Jaguar XK-120 (a result of his quarter-life crisis earlier in the year) into the driveway of St Peter’s Asylum, the 16th century estate sends a chill up his spine. He exits his car and ambles around the property for a while, wanting to gain a better sense of his new work environment. There’s a 25-mile-long anti-Apparition ward surrounding the property and no Floo Network connection. Everything about the property felt duplicitous. The beautiful large bay windows were covered excessively with sharp, pointy metal bars, stained-glass depicting religious iconography were covered in grime and spiderwebs. The columned archway framing the front entrance has cracks in them and are covered in rotting foliage. Behind the estate is a crematorium where ominous black smoke currently poured from the vents, spilling upward into the grey sky. He should have known then that something was amiss.

After a confusing meeting with Head Healer Madison, a quick introduction to the nurses and orderlies, Harry is shown to his small, gloomy office. Settled in, when he finally glanced through the files of his new patients, he nearly spilled his coffee on the pile.

He did not expect to see Draco Malfoy on his rota.

He can recall the last time he saw Malfoy, right after the trials, when Harry’s testimony wasn’t enough to save him completely from time in Azkaban, but anything after? He can’t. He does not recall exactly how much time Malfoy served—had it been three years or four? Did he receive early release or was that his father? How had Harry simply put Malfoy out of his mind after everything they had both been through? How had Zabini not warned him Malfoy would be in a psychiatric ward? Did he even know?

All these questions left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth. He had asked Healer Madison to give Malfoy’s file to a different Healer due to the conflict of interest, but there were no other Healers that would take Malfoy, and so Harry was left with a quandary: either help Malfoy or they’ll send him back to Azkaban, untreated, to serve out the rest of his sentence.

Malfoy’s file was as depressing as Harry imagined it to be.

Malfoy was considered a permanent resident on the ward, but the history is muddled as to why he’s been labelled permanent if his psychiatric care was part of his early release requirements from Azkaban. The threadbare treatment plan had no end goals or date to reintegrate Malfoy into Magical society. The file simply read of an attempted suicide in Azkaban, manic depression, and tendencies towards excessive violence to not just himself but those around him when angered—this was one of the reasons Healers refused him care. He had apparently injured the last three, one almost fatally. He’s been kept heavily medicated, but lately has been refusing treatment. The nurses have been providing the necessary potions intravenously.

Malfoy also hasn’t uttered a single word to anyone—not staff or other patients—for over two years.

From the gossip that the nurses regularly indulged in, Harry was able to learn that Malfoy befriended a young Scottish man named Ziggy and an elderly woman named Lottie that was also considered mute and antisocial. Ziggy had died exactly over two years ago under mysterious conditions and his body was sent to the crematorium instead of autopsied by the local Medical Examiner. When Harry had brought this oversight to Healer Madison, he had been scolded and suspended for three days for viewing files not assigned to him. She threatened to send him back to St. Mungos if he continued to work on the files that have been sealed by the Chief Healer, which would result in him failing his final rotation.

This, of course, further fuelled Harry’s interests.

-------

Harry began to watch Draco’s condition much more closely.

The other man still wouldn’t utter a word to Harry, and sometimes he wondered if Draco even recognised who he was sitting in front of, his eyes unfocused, body slumped in his chair with his bandaged arms wrapped around his body, his long blond hair falling to his shoulders in messy clumps.

Harry began to discover bruises around Draco’s wrists when they’d meet for sessions. When they began to appear around Draco’s neck, and finally, his left eye, Harry calmly enquired about it, and this sent Draco into a silent, violent frenzy. Draco had shoved most of the contents on Harry’s desk to the floor, thrown books at the walls, and ripped one of his bandages free to viciously dig his nails up and down his arm. Harry had to call a CODE RED as he scrambled to unlock his wand from the warded drawer of his desk to Stupefy Draco before he reopened all his wounds. It was the first time Harry had seen any kind of real reaction from the other man and quite frankly, it scared the hell out of him. He had watched helplessly as the orderlies rushed in to gather Draco’s limp body from the floor.

Later that day, he approached Healer Madison.

“I’d like the evaluation forms for any other medical treatments Mr Malfoy is having here,” Harry had demanded. She had popped her gum in Harry’s face before rolling her eyes at his request.

“Those records are private, Potter. For the Chief Healer’s eyes only,” she had said.

“Well, I need the evaluation forms as well. I should be aware of any changes in treatment methods, considering Malfoy is one of my patients.”

Healer Madison patted Harry on the shoulder. “Relax, Potter. No need to be such a bloody worry-wort. Code reds happen all the time here. You’ll soon come to realise how we do things at St Peter’s.”

-------

Harry left the hospital at 5pm every day. Like clockwork, when he’s just about to get into his car, he’ll look up to the third-floor window of the recreation room where he’ll catch Draco staring down at him through the slats of the bars. Each time, the monster in Harry’s chest that’s begun to grow with Harry’s concern and affection for Draco, roared to life. He knew it would be just a matter of time before Draco ended up dead if Harry did not figure out what’s going on in this hospital.

--------

On a particularly cold, grey day in October, one month into Harry’s rotation at St Peter’s, Harry enters the third-floor recreation room. All of Harry’s patients have been improving greatly, Draco in particular. Intravenous treatment ended a week ago as he’s now more cooperative in taking his medication by mouth. His self-harming had eased somewhat, but there were still bad days that Harry monitored closely. Draco interacts with staff and his friend Lottie again, sitting next to her to watch the Muggle telly or just holding her wrinkled hand as they both stare out the window. His grey gaze seemed stronger, more focused, determined, even. It made Harry happy to see a sliver of the person he once knew shining through, and he hoped it would just be a matter of time before Draco speaks, so Harry can help him.

Harry glances around the room. Soft music is playing from off the telly. There's plenty of places to sit, but he opts to walk over to the window where Draco is sitting and playing chess by himself. The man’s wrists are bandaged again, no doubt from picking at his scars. Harry can see a patch of blood through the gauze and wonders why none of the nurses have been around to replace them. He wishes he had his wand (which is locked in his office for safety reasons) so he can replace the bandage himself.

“Draco,” Harry starts warmly. “How are you doing today?”

Draco looks up from the board and Harry gasps. There’s another brutal black eye around his left eye, and the top of his lip is split. Harry reaches out, his fingers lightly touching Draco’s lips before grazing along his jaw. Draco remains very, very still under Harry’s touch, his lips parting slightly as his chest heaves. When Harry remembers himself, he snatches his hand back as if he’s been burned.

“Who did this to you?” Harry hisses.

For a moment, Draco’s eyes turn incredibly bright as he exhales a phlegmy breath before his gaze shutters. Harry sits on the opposite side of the board, staring down at it as Draco takes one trembling hand to move his black bishop to E5. Harry sighs.

“You can tell me, Draco. I…I want to help you. I know there’s something terrible happening in this hospital, and I know someone is hurting you. Please, Draco—”

Draco abruptly stands from his seat, startling Harry. Draco doesn’t pay him any notice as he stretches his long, rail-thin body before strolling up to the nurse’s station. He taps on the glass divider several times before Nurse Mathilde slides the panel open.

“What is it, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco mimes smoking a cigarette.

Nurse Mathilde purses her lips. “The Chief Healer has given you permission to smoke again, but not until 5pm and especially not without an orderly present. You’ll have to wait until then. No exceptions!” she snaps before slamming the panel shut.

Draco doesn’t come back to his board game, nor does he glance over at Harry.

Harry watches as he instead sits next to his friend Lottie who is staring at the only plant in the recreational room. He lifts her wrinkled hand and entwines it with his own before settling in to watch the plant with her.

---------

At approximately 5pm Harry exits the asylum, briefcase in one hand and car keys in the other. When he passes by one of the gnarled oak trees, he notices Draco leaning against it, blowing tendrils of smoke from his cigarette. Harry slows down to watch him.

Draco’s hip is cocked out, his hospital shirt bunched up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale flesh and a titillating v-line that disappears in his thin cotton hospital pyjamas. He’s properly beautiful—all long lines and sharp edges carved in delicate, alabaster marble. Harry has noticed just how clearer Draco’s eyes are now, how the grey is piercing, brimming with cleverness and an intelligence that reminds Harry of the boy he knew in Hogwarts.

Harry’s suddenly startled out of his reverence when he glances around and notices that Draco is currently unattended.

Harry decides to approach him.

“Draco. Are you out here by yourself? Where is your attending orderly?”

“He was recovering from the blowjob I gave him before I did this—” Draco says, his voice thick and raspy. Harry is so shocked to hear the familiar drawl that he stumbles forward, his eyes widening, realises too late that Draco has lunged towards him, left hand raised high to strike Harry on the side of his head with a large, jagged rock.

When Harry comes to, it’s with a sharp groan and with the sound of a string of complex Latin filling his ears. He grits his teeth as a burning sensation wraps around his wrist. He realises that he’s frozen on the ground by a particularly thorough Petrificus Totalus. Despite his throbbing head, he focuses enough to catch Draco at his side, hissing as a thin, red bracelet appears on his left wrist, the bandages now gone. Harry hasn’t seen his left arm exposed before, and he cries out as he takes in the horrific scarring over the Dark Mark, as if someone had tried to peel the Mark off with a scalpel and failed to dig deep enough. There were healed and freshly scabbed cuts from his wrist to his elbow on both arms.

Draco appears above Harry then. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

There are streaks of dirt across Draco’s face, his hands, and under his nails.

“Please, Draco, whatever it is…don’t…don’t…”

Draco snorts. “What, don’t hurt you? Don’t kill you? Why would I harm the person I’m currently Bonded to?” Draco asks, lifting Harry’s wrist to his face. The red bracelet there matches Draco’s.

Panic seizes Harry immediately. Had he not been completely immobile, he sure he’d be shuddering. “What the hell is going on?” Harry asks, his voice shaking.

Draco drops his wrist and instead lifts a thick, taped together manila folder covered in dirt. “You’re helping me get the fuck out of here, Potter.” A smile breaks across Draco’s face then, making him look both incredibly beautiful and deranged. “It was as if you breathed life back into me, the day you walked through the doors of St Peter’s. I knew then that I had to hold on just a bit longer because surely it was a sign that my initial hard work wasn’t done in vain. You see this file here? I used to sneak out documents I’d gather from Madison, the Chief Healer, and the nurses proving the abuse. Some of the orderlies will let you do whatever you want if you can…provide the right services…and they would often leave me alone long enough for a smoke. I would hide the files here, Potter. But after Z-Z-iggy—” Draco’s excitable tone falters, a veil of sadness falling so quickly over his face Harry experiences a sense of whiplash. “They killed my friend, Potter. They treated Ziggy well before, even let him play Bowie when things weren’t so bad. They killed him during the experiments…”

“What experiments?” Harry asks, shocked.

Draco’s expression shifts once again to happiness. “I knew you wouldn’t be involved in something so gruesome.” He holds up his scarred arm. “On the Dark Mark and Purebloods who have come from Dark families. They’re trying to figure out how Dark Magic is entwined in a person’s DNA and…I don’t know…undo it.”

Harry’s eyes widens, mind beginning to race. “What?”

If the Healers here were literally using human flesh and blood to somehow recreate or understand the links between DNA and inherent Dark Magic, who knows what kind of torture and body modification they’re causing their subjects.

Draco eyes become manic. “You have to help me. You have to get me out of here in the next five minutes. My outdoor time is only half an hour and the orderly is currently passed out—”

“—Draco,” Harry whispers, interrupting Draco’s spiral. “How many others are there…how many other victims?”

“I don’t know, I swear. I just knew Ziggy personally but there would always be screams, so much screaming, so many voices…” Draco says, closing his eyes and swaying on the spot. He mutters softly, incoherently, to himself for a few moments before he opens his eyes, so grey, intense and bright. Harry is overwhelmed with shock, horror, and above all, disgust. Disgusted that the people he’s been working alongside for a month now, the people who have vowed first to do no harm, have been torturing their patients, vulnerable patients.

“Draco, I want to help you, okay? I will help you. You just have to undo the Petrificus Totalus. We’ll get in the car and just drive. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Draco holds up Harry’s wand, points it at Harry’s face. “If you betray me, Potter, you’ll regret it. We’ll get in that fancy car of yours and you’ll drive until I say stop. If you do anything to prevent me from getting these files to the right people…if you try to get help from the Aurors or let your friends know what’s going on, I’ll off myself. And this bond here, this bond will take you with me. I’m the only one that knows the counter, and once we get to my final destination, I’ll release you. So, don’t you dare fucking try me.”

Harry bites back a gasp.

Despite his very real fear, Harry’s desire to help Draco outweighs it. He nods.

“Okay, whatever you want. I’ll do it.”

Draco’s face, dark with suspicion, slowly starts to slide towards something lighter. He bares his teeth. “I hold onto the wand. You’re not allowed to touch me, period, or else I might get the wrong idea that you’re trying to get your wand back, and I don’t want to have to hurt you, or worse, hurt myself.”

“Yes, okay.”

With a wave of Harry’s wand, Draco undoes the spell. Harry sits up slowly, so as not to alarm Draco, who has quickly scrambled to his feet, the dirty file hugged to his chest, wand still trained on Harry. Harry follows after him, head throbbing and legs unsteady.

Draco casts a healing charm his way before strengthening a Disillusionment Charm around them.

Feeling much steadier, Harry exhales. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I hit you in the first place. I had no other means to incapacitate you.”

“You could have just told me what was going on.”

Draco shrugs. “I had to make sure you were trustworthy. And honestly, I’ve wanted to knock you out for years, so this very much fulfilled a boyhood dream of mine,” Draco says, his lips tugging upward. Harry pauses to look at him. The monster in his chest is awake, thrashing about as affection and desire feeds it.

Harry knows he’s fucked.

They make their way towards Harry’s car after checking on the unconscious orderly. Once settled in, Harry starts the car and drives, past the gates of the asylum and onto the stretch of empty country road. He glances at Draco, not at all shocked to see the tears that are streaming down his battered face.

“Where to?” Harry asks softly.

Draco continues to stare out ahead of him as he answers, “the only safehouse I know. A house on Spinner’s End, Cokeworth.”

Harry draws in a sharp breath.

#drarrymicrofic #Drarry Microfic #trigger warnings #Drarry #drarry fic #Healer!Harry Potter #Patient!Draco Malfoy #unreliable narrator #Dark themes #horror elements #honestly it's not THAT dark #right?#haha #to be continued #thank you for reading

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snowdice · 4 years ago

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 54]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

It’s a cleaning day and then maybe an editing day later for what I wrote last night, so we might be doing this for a while (assuming nothing gets in my way.)

Chapter 23

Logan was unsurprised that after showing Virgil the large courtyard, Patton almost immediately decided to instigate a game of tag. They were, after all, here with the goal of getting Virgil a bit active after having had him only in Logan’s room for weeks.

He was also unsurprised that Virgil seemed confused about the concept of tag, and Patton had to explain the game in detail to him.

It made him wince, but he still was unsurprised when Virgil went about inquiring after the consequences of losing the game.

He was, however, very surprised when, after getting all of the facts about tag settle, Patton was chasing after Virgil trying to tag him and suddenly the boy disappeared.

Patton almost ran into a wall in his confusion. He stared at his hands stretched out and just a couple of inches from touching the wall for a moment, before slowly looking up.

“Virgil!” Patton exclaimed. “What?”

“What?” he asked.

“…What are you even hanging onto?”

“The wall,” Virgil replied.

Logan walked closer to the two of them and tilted his head up to look at him. Virgil had jumped up and somehow managed to find hand and foot holes on the seemingly smooth wall. He climbed about 5 meters above their heads and was peering down at them curiously.

“Okay,” Logan said. “New rule. Virgil is not allowed to scale walls during tag.”

Virgil frowned down at him. “Why only me?”

“Because Patton and I cannot do that anyway,” Logan said. “We would not be able to actually play if you remain up there.”

Patton glanced over at him and reached over to touch Logan’s shoulder. “No tag backs,” he said. Logan glared at him. “Why don’t you come down sweetie?”

“But Logan will tag me,” he said.

“Well, honey, that’s part of the fun,” Patton reasoned. “Don’t you want to try being it?”

Virgil seemed to consider this for a long moment. “Okay,” he agreed.

To Logan’s terror, he simply let go of the wall, falling straight down and landing crouched. He blinked at Logan. Right. With a start, Patton took off, so he’d have a head start. “No tag backs means a 10 second head start for me,” Logan reminded. Virgil nodded, and Logan reached out to poke him in the arm before immediately running off in the opposite direction as Patton.

Logan’s strategy worked out since, knowing he couldn’t go after Logan for a few seconds more, he chose to turn and go after Patton. After finding one of the statues to hide behind on the edge of the courtyard, Logan risked glancing back.

Virgil was faster than Logan (and likely Patton) had accounted for. Patton had gotten a good head start on him, but Virgil closed it quickly. Patton shrieked as Virgil barreled into him, bringing them both to the ground.

“Virgil!” Logan heard Patton giggle. Logan figured he was more than okay despite the tackle. “This isn’t how you play tag!”

“I combined tag and tackle hugs,” Virgil declared, making Patton giggle more.

“That’s very innovative, honey,” Patton said. “Now are you going to let me up?...Virgil… I’m counting down your 10 second head start in my head, and if you don’t let me up I’m going to tag you again.”

This did not seem to have the intended effect as Virgil did not remove himself from Patton’s person. Patton laugh when it became clear he was not going to move and began counting down “7, 6, 5, 4, you’d better let me go sweetie, or you’re going to get tagged again.” Virgil did not seem to care. “3, 2, 1.” Patton reached up and bopped him on the nose. “Tag!” he declared.

Logan was surprised when Virgil instantly jumped off Patton at that. He whipped around.

‘Oh,’ Logan thought as the boy’s eyes narrowed in on Logan immediately, ‘I see.’

“Virgil was already halfway across the courtyard towards him before Logan could even think about running away. There was no way that he was fast enough to outrun him. Perhaps he could outthink him, he thought. His eyes scanned his environment in the seconds he had left and landed on a large square piece of stone that held flowers in the spring. It was just full of dirt now, but it was still about waist high. Perhaps if he kept that between them, he could outmaneuver him. He sprinted towards it and scrambled to the opposite side from where Virgil was heading.

He really should not have been as surprised as he was that Virgil did not even slightly slow as he approached the planter box, instead grabbing ahold of the side of it and vaulting over it. Logan stumbled back, bracing for impact, but instead he just got a quick tap on the shoulder.

Logan blinked at him.

“I don’t know if you would be okay with tackle hugs,” he explained.

Logan considered him. “I would be okay with a nontackle hug.”

Virgil happily jumped forward to hug Logan, pressing his nose into Logan’s shoulder. Logan chuckled and patted the top of his head. “Six,” he said, “5, 4, 3…”

Virgil bolted away suddenly, actually making Logan stumble a bit. He paused just out of reach of Logan, looking at him with anticipation. “2,1,” Logan finished with a raised eyebrow. He already knew he was being played with, but he indulged him by starting towards him. Virgil danced out of the way, eyes alight. Logan sighed. “Is this truly how it’s going to be?” he asked.

Virgil didn’t answer, but to watch him with wide, excited eyes.

“Fine,” Logan said. He dashed towards him again, only to have him continue to maneuver just out of Logan’s reach each time Logan went forward. He’d call it taunting if there was any sign of malice in it.

They ran around the courtyard in spirts of Logan charging at him and Virgil expertly dodging. Eventually Patton came closer to them. Logan could tell that Virgil was aware of his presence, by how he glanced back at him briefly, but considering he was not ‘it,’ it seemed he chose to disregard him. However, he was not aware of the way Patton winked at Logan as he walked up behind Virgil.

Logan, on the other hand, knew exactly what was happening. He went to spring for Virgil again, and Virgil again moved to dodge, but this time Patton grabbed him around the waist, allowing Logan to actually tag him.

He turned slowly to face Patton who started to giggle immediately at the perplexed look on his face. It cleared into something else as soon as he heard Patton laugh. “Traitor!” he claimed. “We were on the same team and you betrayed me.”

“I just thought we should probably have mercy on poor Logan,” Patton replied.

“Hmm,” Virgil said, eyes again full of that playful mischief Logan had not seen until today. “Plea for mercy not accepted.”

Patton once again half-shrieked half-laughed as he was pounced on. The two of them went rolling across the grass, Virgil clearly keeping the rolling going longer than it should have as they made it a good few meters.

Virgil sprung off of him a few moments later.

“Oh, is it my turn?” Patton inquired with a huge smile. He slowly got to his feet. “Hmm, I’m probably at about 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” He took off after Virgil, but Patton had a bit more endurance than Logan, so instead of doing quickly calculated lunges at Virgil as Logan had done, he just ran at him full tilt without stopping.

Virgil ran from him, though Logan was pretty sure he was intentionally slowing himself down a bit so Patton had some amount of a chance. He kept turning to check behind him and make sure Patton was still somewhat close as he ran.

Which is why he didn’t see the imminent disaster in time.

Chapter 24

Thomas should have been paying more attention, but his mind had been on the meeting he’d just had with the castle guards about increased security in the wake of the possible threat from Mocnejsi. He’d decided to take a brief walk around the courtyard to clear his head but was still distracted with mulling over the options that had just been presented to him. He stepped into the castle courtyard and did not have time to step out of the way of the much smaller body rocketing towards him. Virgil slammed into his front, but not before Thomas got a good look at his face.

Virgil’s expression changed dramatically in the few seconds between him registering Thomas was there and running into him. For the briefest moment, Thomas could see that he must have been having a lot of fun. He’d caught the wide smile and sparkling eyes as Virgil turned his head back from looking at Patton who was chasing him across the greenery. He’d looked very happy which made it all the more painful to see that happiness die in and a few instants. When his head had turned back towards Thomas, there was a flicker of confusion at something being in his path.

Then, clearly everything about the situation registered, because his eyes blew wide in horror as he tried to stop himself, but there was no way he’d be able to in time. Thomas saw that fact register on his face the moment before he hit. Gone was any trace of happiness or joy in that split second. All that was left was dread that had no place anywhere near a children’s game of tag. It was the expression Thomas would expect from someone who felt ice give way under their feet in the middle of a lake they had thought was frozen solid.

He hit hard, but he wasn’t nearly big enough to actually harm Thomas. Thomas was thrown slightly off balance but managed to stay on his feet. He reached out a hand to his shoulder automatically to steady the child. There was a moment of pseudo calm where they both absorbed the impact and stilled.

Then, the boy’s shoulder slipped out of Thomas’s grip as he went crashing to the ground in a move that made Thomas wince for the state of his knees. Thomas couldn’t quite grasp what was happening for a moment as Virgil face planted onto the ground in front of him, but when he did, Thomas couldn’t help but flinch and take a step back from him.

Thomas had been bowed to before, of course, seeing as he was a king, but this was not out of respect or courtesy or even just tradition. This was out of terror. He was begging for mercy and it made Thomas feel sick.

“I’m sorry,” he said, meek and shaky into the ground, and there was almost something worse about the fact that he did not beg for forgiveness with his words, but only his posture. The way his breathes came far too quick and shallow said he was likely on the verge of a panic attack, but he was not blubbering through apologies or even not speaking at all. He gave a clear, if shaky, apology, and waited for whatever he thought Thomas planned to do to him. There was no way that was not learned.

“You don’t…” Thomas stuttered. “You don’t have to do that. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, but he reacted in no other way. He did not even react when Patton made it to his side and knelt down next to him. Patton’s hand hovered over his back, clearly wanting to touch down, but he pulled back on that instinct.

“Virgil, honey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. No one is mad. It was an accident.”

Virgil did not react to this at all.

Thomas caught Logan’s eye as he hurried over to them himself. “Sorry,” Thomas mouthed. Logan just nodded and turned his attention to his friend.

“There is no reason for any of that,” Logan said, his voice firm, almost clipped. “You are not in trouble. Now sit up.”

Virgil did respond to that, slowly shifting back on his knees. He kept his head down looking at the ground. “Sorry,” he said again.

“I…” Thomas said, surveying the three kids on the ground in front of him. Thomas slowly sunk to the ground to be at their level. Virgil was tracking his movements out of the corner of his eyes, his head still bowed and his shoulders tensed. “Hey,” Thomas said softly. “Were you three playing tag?”

Virgil hesitated, eyes flickering as he debated whether he should respond or not.

“Yeah, we were,” Patton answered for him after a moment of stressful silence.

“Well that’s fun,” Thomas said. “I’m sorry for interrupting the three of you. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Virgil glanced up at him for just a moment before looking away again. Patton apparently felt it was safe enough to touch Virgil, because he settled a hand on the boys shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ve just been having a fun day,” Patton said, carefully matching Thomas’s light tone. “We went to the garden and did some reading. Then, Mr. Deknis gave us some apples.”

“That’s nice,” Thomas replied. “He’s been talking about the new apples he’s been growing. He’s been working on them for years and they’re just beginning to bare fruit this year. I haven’t gotten a chance to try any yet. Are they any good?”

“They’re very good,” Patton told him. His hand rubbed slowly on Virgil’s back. “Isn’t that right, Virge?”

Virgil nodded a bit, a little less tense now, but still nowhere near calm.

“Well, I’ll have to try them soon,” Thomas said with a smile. “Thank you for the information. Now, I’ve got to get back to what I’m doing, but I hope you three have a good day.”

“I’ll see you later, Dad,” Logan said.

Thomas nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “Goodbye you three,” he said before turning away towards the door back into the castle. He paused to take a breath when the door closed behind him, cutting off the courtyard. There were a lot of thoughts to shirt through in regards to that conversation. He hated that Virgil was so obviously terrified of him. Both of their two interactions had ended with the poor thing panicking on the ground. He wished he had some idea of how to help him or at least someone to talk to about it.

Maybe he’d go visit Mr. Deknis himself and not just for the apples.

Chapter 25

“Alright,” Patton said, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “I’ve got to go back to my room for the night. Will you two be okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” Logan said. “It won’t be particularly different than the last two weeks.”

Patton nodded and leaned to the side to squeeze Virgil in another hug. He’d been clingy since the incident in the courtyard, and Virgil had been appreciative considering he was still pretty shaky from it. He was still surprised he’d touched the king of Prijaznia (let alone ran into him) and lived to tell the tale.

“Goodnight, Pat,” Virgil said because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t leave if Virgil didn’t.

“Night Virge,” Patton said with a smile before standing up from where they’d been sitting on the ground. He reached over to hug Logan who was sitting on a chair. “Night Lo! Put the book down and go to bed.”

Logan looked up from his book with a frown.

“It’s almost midnight,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and set his book down. “Very well,” he agreed. “We will get ready for bed.”

“You better! I’m going to come and wake you up early in the morning.”

“Early in the morning for you is 9am,” Logan scoffed.

Patton stuck his tongue out at him as he walked backwards out of the door.

Logan gave his book a mournful look once the door closed and Virgil almost giggled. “I won’t tell on you,” he said.

Logan thought about it for a few moments. “No,” he finally said. “We should probably get some sleep.”

Virgil nodded and pushed himself to his feet.

“We should probably both take a bath after sitting in the dirt today,” Logan said. “Do you want to go first or should I?”

“Don’t care,” Virgil answered.

“You can go first,” Logan offered.

Virgil felt himself smile. “You just want to finish the chapter in that book,” he accused.

“Perhaps,” Logan conceded.

Virgil just grinned and walked over to his closet to grab one of the outfits he’d been given for pajamas. He chose a pair of baggy shorts that went past his knees and the huge soft black sweater Logan had found in the back of his closet. He headed into the bathroom, noting Logan had already picked up his book again.

Logan may have declared the both of them dirty enough for bathing a few minutes before, but Virgil was cleaner than he thought he’d ever been before coming to the castle. Logan had taught him how to use the tub and what soaps to use for what a couple of days after he’d arrived and had suggested he clean himself regularly.

Virgil didn’t mind. The tub was enchanted to warm the water inside of it and Virgil loved it. Though, that had the negative affect of making it very difficult to leave.

He cleaned himself up quickly, so he’d have a few minutes to just sit in the water before he felt like he needed to get out and let Logan have a turn. He changed into his pajamas, pulling the crescent shaped protection charm out of his day clothes pocket and storing the warm to the touch stone in the short pocket. He used the clip Patton had made it to pin it to the cloth to make sure he wouldn’t lose it.

Logan was engrossed in his reading by the time that Virgil exited the bathroom. He did not look up as Virgil approached.

“Your turn,” Virgil said to him.

Logan clearly just barely managed to tear his eyes away from the book. “Right,” he said. “Yes.”

“The book will be there in the morning,” Virgil reminded.

“I know,” said Logan sadly as he set the book aside.

Logan never took much time in the bath, so Virgil quickly went about getting ready for bed the rest of the way. He put his day clothes in the basket Logan had for that purpose and started to straighten out the blankets and pillows in the closet.

He heard Logan come back into the room a few minutes later.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “What are you doing?”

Virgil looked over at him. “Getting ready for bed,” he answered, confused.

Logan frowned at him. “You don’t sleep in the closet anymore,” Logan said. “That’s only for when we were worried you might escape.”

“Oh,” Virgil said blinking over at him. “Right.” He felt a slight pulling at his chest. He liked the closet. It was warm and soft. Patton had taken a lot of care with how he’d arranged all of the pillows and blankets. It was the best place he could ever remember having to sleep in his life. Yet, he did not argue. He knew getting to sleep out in the open was supposed to be a reward and he wasn’t about to reject it.

Virgil stood and closed the closet. He tugged on the bottom of his sweater, stretching the fabric between his hands as he watched Logan pull down the covers of his bed and settle down onto it. Cautiously he walked over towards the bed. He wasn’t sure where he should lay down exactly. He dithered for a moment before bending down to sit on the floor near the right side of Logan’s bed and then laying down.

There was shuffling on the bed above him and then Logan’s head popped over the side to squint down at him. “On the bed Virgil,” he said.

Virgil looked up at him in shock. “But it… I’m…” He trailed off and there were a few seconds of silence.

“It is just a bed Virgil,” Logan said.

But it wasn’t ‘just’ anything. Virgil was pretty sure touching the bed of a royal family member without permission would be considered a capital offence. At least, it would in Mocnejsi. Yet, Logan was expecting him to just… crawl into it?

“Please just get up here,” Logan said. Virgil’s caution at touching something he was definitely sure he should not be allowed to be touching wared with his resolve to repay his literal life debt to Logan by doing whatever he wanted.

Feeling honestly a bit sick to his stomach, Virgil slowly pushed himself back to his feet. Logan scooted back over to the left side of the bed, and Virgil cautiously sat down on the empty side of the bed. After a second of hesitation he slowly laid down, his head hitting a soft fluffy pillow. He jumped when Logan flopped the covers on top of both of them.

Virgil took a long moment to absorb the situation while Logan took off his glasses and reached over to turn off the light next to him. He’d never slept in a bed before, or if he had he’d been too young to remember. In the orphanage there was a lack of actual beds due to overcrowding and there had always been someone bigger and stronger that Virgil didn’t dare fight for the use of them. During training, none of the kids had a bed. Only a few of the higher ups had ones at the more permanent training sites. There were very few situations where any of the assassins, at least a Virgil’s level, would be allowed to touch a real bed.

The light switched off, plunging them into darkness.

“Is this…?” Virgil said, eyes still pointed towards the ceiling even though his eyes had not adjusted to the darkness enough to be able to see it. “Do you want… things?”

“Things?” Logan asked.

Virgil did not move his head, but he did reach over and put his hand slightly above Logan’s knee. Logan didn’t move, so Virgil slid his hand up.

Virgil’s wrist was grabbed immediately and pulled firmly away from Logan’s inner thigh. He did not let go afterwards, his fingers squeezing hard, but not quite painfully. “Never,” Logan said, his voice harsher than it had ever been even on the day when Virgil was nothing more than an intruder with deadly intent. “Never offer anything like that to anyone ever again.”

“I was just…”

“I know what you were doing,” Logan said, voice icy, “and it inadmissible. Never offer that again for anything. Do you understand me?”

“I... yes.”

“Promise me.”

Virgil took a short moment to think. “I promise,” he agreed.

“Good,” Logan said, releasing his hand. His voice got softer too. “Good.”

They were silent for a long time after that, though Virgil had no delusions that Logan had fallen asleep. He could almost feel the tension.

“Sorry,” Virgil finally said softly.

“It’s not something you should be apologizing for,” Logan replied. The bed moved as Logan shifted and a hand lightly touched the top of his head. “Just… never.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. He shifted slightly after a moment until his head was in the crook of Logan’s arm. Logan brushed the hair out of his face with the hand that had been on his head.

“Goodnight Virgil,” Logan said.

“Goodnight,” Virgil responded. They were quiet after that, though Virgil was still awake for a while yet and Logan’s hand slowly stroked through his hair for a while. Eventually though, Virgil relaxed into mattress. He stuck his hand into his pocket and curled it around the charm in his pocket. The bed was nice, he thought. It was soft and warm… and safe. He finally fell asleep.

Chapter 26

Patton did their new special knock on the door so Logan and Virgil would know it was just him and they didn’t need to hide the fact that Virgil was sleeping in the prince’s room. He didn’t wait for a response, however, and just shoved open the door. He was surprised to see that Logan was not already out of bed and wondered for a moment if he had broken his promise stayed up way too late reading like he was sometimes known to do. Yet, then, Logan spoke from the bed. “I’m awake,” he called.

Confused, Patton stepped into the room. Logan wasn’t one for lazing around in bed; usually he was out of bed the moment he woke.

He stepped over to the bed and had to stifle a smile when he recognized the problem. Logan was awake, but Virgil was still sleeping, and he was half on top of Logan, his arms wrapped around him.

“Why don’t you just squirm out of his arms like you do me?” Patton asked, keeping his voice low.

“He isn’t like you,” Logan said. He did not bother to quiet himself at all.

“What do you mean?” Patton asked amused.

In answer, Logan started to move as though to squirm out of Virgil’s death grip on him. In response, Virgil made a pitiful mewling sound in his sleep that landed like a piercing blow straight to the heart. Logan stopped moving immediately and Virgil shifted to grip Logan tighter.

“Aw!” Patton said.

“It’s not cute,” Logan insisted. “I’ve been stuck for hours and I have to pee.”

Patton chuckled. “Alright, alright, I’ll save you.” He rounded the bed to Virgil’s side and crawled up on it. “Virgil, honey,” he entreated softly. “I think it’s time for me to get cuddles so Lo can get up.” Patton softly touched Virgil’s shoulder and pulled at him gently. He reached forward to carefully pry Virgil’s arms off of Logan.

Virgil made a more confused than heartbreaking sound this time, turning towards Patton so Patton could wrap his arms around him. Logan managed to scoot towards the edge of the bed.

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Logan made it off the bed and dashed towards the bathroom as Virgil’s arms came around Patton and squeezed. Patton laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. After a few moments, Virgil’s eyes started to flicker a bit.

“Good morning, honey,” Patton said softly. “Did you sleep good?”

He hummed sleepily. “Beds are nice,” he said. Patton felt a slight pang at that because it implied he didn’t get to sleep in beds very much, but he chose to shove that aside.

“They are,” Patton agreed. Virgil’s eyes started to close again. “Honey,” Patton laughed. “I think it’s time to wake up now.”

Virgil made a sleepy whining sound, squeezing Patton tighter. “Don’t you want breakfast?” Patton asked. That question managed to make Virgil open his eyes again. “I was thinking we could go down to the kitchen to eat that way it’s nice and fresh and I can introduce you to Mama real quick.” He neglected to mention the fact that they really did not have a choice. Mr. Deknis had blabbed to Mama about Virgil, and worse, had apparently mentioned that Virgil was skinny. As soon as he’d gotten home yesterday, he’d been met with an already worked up Mama firmly insisting that she meet Virgil sometime today.

He wasn’t going to tell Virgil that though, because he thought it might scare him away from both Mama and Mr. Deknis.

Virgil thought about the prospect of breakfast for a long moment. “Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll be awake.”

“Good,” Patton said. He reached up to bop him on the nose. Virgil narrowed his eyes and then bopped him back making Patton giggle. He sat up then, and Virgil let him. “Let’s get you something to wear and do your hair,” Patton suggested. Virgil nodded and reluctantly got out of bed, just as Logan returned to the room. “We’re going to go downstairs for breakfast,” Patton told Logan. “That way Virgil can meet my mom.” He gave Logan a significant look and Logan nodded once in understanding that this was not a choice.

Logan and Virgil got dressed, and Patton did Virgil’s hair up nice, before Patton led them out of the royal wing. They went down the main staircase instead of the spiral staircase that went right to the kitchen, mostly because it would be very busy, and Patton thought they should probably eat in the main dining room anyway. He could feel Virgil getting more anxious as they entered the busier part of the castle, and he stuck close to either Patton or Logan from the time they hit the top of the steps all the way to the main dining room.

There were a few people in the dining room already eating breakfast when they arrived. Virgil’s curiosity seemed to temporarily overwhelm his anxiety as he looked around the large hall and at all of the people there. Patton looked around trying to see it through his eyes. He’d been running around this place since he was little, so he never really thought about how big the room was or how grandly it was decorated, but Virgil was just seeing it for the first time. Patton smiled at him as he guided him to one of the seats. There was already muffins on the table so Patton grabbed one and plopped it in front of Virgil.

Virgil frowned down at the muffin dubiously. “You just… keep food out in the open?” he asked.

Right.

“It’s fine, Virgil,” Patton promised. “No one here would have put anything in it.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes and looked around at the other occupants of the room suspiciously.

“Honestly,” Logan said. “No one even knew we would be down here for breakfast. Nobody would just put something in random people’s food for no reason.”

Virgil gave him a look like he’d just told him people could in fact breathe under water. Virgil was really from a… whole different world, wasn’t he?

“It’s really fine,” Patton said. “Logan and I have eaten things on the table like this a lot.”

“I’m surprised your not dead yet,” Virgil said.

Logan rolled his eyes and reached for a muffin. Virgil slapped it out of his hand and onto the floor. “Really?” Logan asked.

Virgil narrowed his eyes at him. “No eating unsecured food!”

“Virgil,” Logan groaned.

“I bet you don’t even know what common poisons taste like.”

“No,” Logan said. “I don’t because I don’t worry about being poisoned on a daily basis!”

“You should!”

People were starting to look over at them. Patton shot an awkward smile at the woman a few chairs down.

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“Just don’t eat the muffins Logan,” Patton said under his breath.

“I do not understand why-”

“Because it’s stupid as he-”

“Shush,” Patton commanded out of the corner of his mouth, “people are watching, and Virgil is just a normal castle resident.”

That shut the both of them up at least.

“No muffins for now,” Patton said. “I assume it’s okay to eat the things they bring straight from the kitchen.”

Virgil looked a bit leery of this still, but he nodded.

“Good,” Patton said, “then we’ll just wait for that to get here and then everyone will be happy, right?”

Logan opened his mouth and Patton turned to glare at him.

“Right?”

Logan closed his mouth, though clearly, he did not want to give in so easily. They’d be doubtlessly rehashing this conversation once they were alone again.

Patton caught sight of one of the kitchen workers he knew fairly well come out of the kitchen and deliver food to a group of people who were there before them. She caught sight of them and walked over likely to ask them what they wanted for breakfast. Patton watched out of the corner of his eye as Virgil tensed, eyeing her approach suspiciously and she slowed under his glare.

This was going to be a long breakfast.

Chapter 27

After an, honestly quite aggravating, breakfast full of Virgil’s cognitive distortions about the likelihood of being poisoned, Logan was relieved to finally be able to leave the dining area. In consideration to those serving breakfast, Patton did not lead them through the door in the back of the dining room that went directly to the kitchen, and instead took them out of the room and down the hall to a different entrance. This one had a guard stationed across from it as, despite what Virgil may believe, the castle workers did consider the possibility that someone would want to sneak into the kitchen for nefarious purposes.

Said guard, of course, saw nothing wrong with the prince and the head chef’s son entering the side door even with the bonus stranger. In fact, he may even have known Virgil could be coming through this door if Ms. Heart had mentioned him.

Though Virgil hadn’t managed to catch it, Logan knew enough about Patton’s mother that he’d surmised that she had insisted Patton bring the boy to meet her. It was bound to happen at some point anyway, Logan knew, and he wasn’t particularly worried. After all, this was Patton’s mother. Virgil himself didn’t even seem particularly concerned.

Logan had seen him panic and, while he tugged a bit at the sweater he was wearing, the motion was not particularly fervent, so he was likely just slightly nervous.

Of course, that may be because he did not know Patton’s mother specifically wanted to meet him and just assumed that they were starting the necessary process of introducing him to castle residents with a low risk person.

When they entered the hallway, Logan could already hear the usual noises of the kitchen: the clattering of plates, the bubble of conversation, and the sound of Ms. Heart’s voice calling out instructions.

He did see Virgil hesitate, but Logan couldn’t sus out why and Patton was already ahead of them and opening the door into the kitchen. It was fairly calm for the kitchen considering it was meal hours. Logan imagined that Patton had chosen the time between when the day guards ate breakfast before their shifts and the night guards after their shifts on purpose. There was still a bit of chaos as dishwashers attempted to catch up during the lull and a few orders were still being made, but overall the mood seemed, to Logan at least, to be light as Ms. Heart ordered her kitchen around.

Yet, Virgil clearly did not see the situation the same way that Logan did. He froze when the kitchen door swung open and some of the workers turned to look at them. He took a step back, bumped into Logan, startled violently, realized it was Logan, and then side stepped to hide behind him. Logan looked back at him in confusion, but Virgil said nothing, proceeding to mutely peer over Logan’s shoulder.

Patton had moved over to greet his mother as she wiped her hands off on a rag. She glanced over at Virgil and Logan and Logan saw Virgil shrink back a bit.

Logan could see Ms. Heart’s eyes soften as she tracked his movement. She turned to the woman next to her and said something before moving to remove her apron and hang it up in its designated area. Virgil’s hands clenched in the fabric of Logan’s shirt when she turned back to him.

“It’s fine, Virgil,” Logan told him, but Virgil didn’t seem to believe him. Luckily, Patton had turned back and seemed to realize something was amiss.

He stepped back over to them. “Hey, honey,” he said. A plate clattered in the kitchen and Virgil just about ripped Logan’s shirt.

Patton frowned sympathetically. “Too loud?”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “You are digging your fingernails into my skin.” Patton shot Logan a glare. “What?”

“How about,” Patton’s mom suggested. Virgil’s fingernails dug more into Logan’s skin. “We go to my office.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Mama,” Patton said. “Come here, Virgil.” He reached over to touch one of Virgil’s hands and had to pull a bit to get him to release Logan. “It’s back that way, away from the kitchen,” he said when he managed to twine their fingers. He stepped around Logan, probably so there was still a buffer between Virgil and the kitchen and tugged him in the correct direction.

Ms. Heart shot a glance at Logan and Logan felt irrationally like she was trying to read his thoughts. Logan smoothed his features out and turned to follow Patton and Virgil towards her office.

As head chef, Ms. Heart had a small office where she could plan menus without the hustle and bustle of the kitchen and have meeting with people who needed to discuss dietary needs and restrictions. It was very well organized, but still looked fairly messy because of the numbers of decorations she had in it. She had a tendency to keep everything that Patton made her, thus she had his childhood drawings on the wall and little projects stacked on her desk and on the shelves. A lumpy cat statue acted as a paperweight on a stack of papers on her desk and there was a vase of fake flowers (as it could not actually hold water) sat near the window.

By the time Logan entered the room, Patton was trying to coax Virgil into sitting down on one of the two mismatched chairs, but Virgil was having none of it. He had turned to face the door and was yanking at his sweater in nervousness.

Logan noticed that Ms. Heart did not come far into the room, instead pausing near the door. She did, however close the door to give them privacy, and that seemed to distress Virgil more.

She seemed to contemplate him for a moment. “Hello,” she said, her voice softer than Logan was used to hearing. “You must be Virgil.”

It seemed as though he were willing himself to magically shrink, but he still replied. “Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Patton’s mom.”

“I know, ma’am.”

“There’s no need to be formal, Virgil.”

He hesitated. “Okay,” he said somehow quieter.

Her eyebrows drew together in concern, and it seemed that she decided to result to her default way of making people more comfortable. “Would you kids like some candy?”

Logan saw Patton’s hand squeeze Virgil’s lightly. “That would be great, Mama.”

She nodded and walked forward towards her desk. Virgil turned so his back was never to her. If she noticed, she didn’t react. She just grabbed a small tin off one of her shelves and took the top off. “How about a peppermint candy?” she asked.

She offered the tin out to them. Virgil stared at it like it was a venomous snake. Logan decided to act, stepping forward and taking three of the pieces of peppermint candy from the dish. He stepped over to Virgil and Patton and held out his hand, offering Virgil first choice out of all three.

He hesitated before glancing between Patton and his mother. He must have decided that Patton’s mom wouldn’t risk poisoning Patton and took one of the pieces. Patton took another one of them and popped it into his mouth. Logan ate the last piece.

“Thanks,” Virgil said to Ms. Heart before placing his piece in his mouth.

Logan watched Virgil’s eyes light up a bit when the flavor registered. His posture didn’t completely relax, but he seemed at least a bit less like he was contemplating jumping through the window. His trust was almost worryingly easy to buy sometimes. All it took was a not poisoned peppermint.

Ms. Heart seemed pleased by his reaction. “I’m actually going to be making some new ones soon and I’m trying to get rid of these. Would you like to take another one for later?” she asked, holding out the tin.

He looked at it warily again, but he still stepped closer slowly and took another piece. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ms. Heart said, eyes looking over him intensely. “You look like you could do to with a few more sweets every so often.”

Virgil tilted his head in that way he did when he was particularly perplexed.

Patton giggled a bit. “She means your skinny.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Logan already gave me a malnutrition potion for that.”

“Did he now?” she asked, her eyes flickering to Logan. Logan winced. He was definitely in trouble for not bringing him directly to her. He was sure he’d hear all about it as soon as she caught him without Virgil in the room.

She turned back to Virgil with a smile, and Logan imagined Virgil had no idea how dead Logan was. “Well, that’s a very good start, but if there was need for a nutrition potion, we should be careful to make sure you get enough calories and nutrients every day going forward.” She sat down at her desk. “Why don’t you and I talk for a bit about making sure you get some good food.”

He still looked cautious but was predictably enticed by the promise of food. He did not sit still, but he did put his hands on the back of one of the chairs and slightly lean on it. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, I’m going to have a few more specific questions, but let’s just start with what are your favorite foods?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Virgil replied immediately.

“He really likes chicken alfredo,” Patton contributed.

Virgil perked up at the name of the food. “I did like that,” he agreed.

“Alright,” Ms. Heart replied. That’s a start.

Chapter 28

Thomas did not have to be told that something had gotten Helen Heart in a tizzy. He could tell just by the amount of food she had sent up on his dinner tray. She always made and pushed more food when she was stressed, and he couldn’t help but chuckle when he found both a hearty serving of roast beef and a mini chicken pot pie on his plate along with three vegetable side dishes and a side of macaroni and cheese.

He could also guess what had happened to illicit such a response. Thomas had caught up to Jeffers Deknis in his garden and they’d spoken at length about Logan and Patton’s new friend.

There was no way that after said discussion, Jeff had not mentioned Virgil (and more importantly his friendship with Patton) to Helen during their daily gossip sessions. There was also no way that Helen had heard the words “child” and “too small” in a sentence and hadn’t flipped. From there the inevitable sequence of events was clear: Patton went home, Helen talked his ear off until he agreed to bring Virgil to meet her, Helen met him and immediately committed herself to making sure he ate three square meals a day as well as multiple snacks.

Thomas had sussed all of that out before the kitchen worker bringing him his dinner had mentioned what had happened that day.

That in mind, he decided to wait until after dinner should have been cleaned up before walking his own dinner leftovers down to the kitchens.

Thomas was unsurprised to see Jeff already in the kitchen. He was sat at a small table off to the side where kitchen workers usually took their breaks. The only person other than Jeff and Helen left in the kitchen was a dishwasher who was finishing up. Helen usually spent a couple of hours after dinner in her kitchen or her office organizing for the next day and in case anyone needed food on an off hour, and then there was a night cook who would take over so she could go back to her set of rooms.

Helen took the tray of leftovers from Thomas herself and shooed the dishwasher out of the way. “I’ll handle the rest myself,” she told the girl. “You can leave.”

She nodded and started to take her apron off. Helen dumped the tray on the counter without care and turned back around to usher Thomas into one of the kitchen chairs. Thomas went willingly and she turned to fill the tea kettle with water and set it on the stove.

“It take it she met Virgil,” Thomas said to Jeff.

“She’s adopted Virgil,” Jeff replied, taking a bite out of a cookie.

“And what of it?” she asked. “Someone obviously needs to feed the boy. Speaking of, you’re grounding your son by the way.”

Thomas took one of the cookies for himself. “Why am I grounding Logan?” he asked.

“He was worried enough about his health to make him a nutrition potion, but still did not bring him to me,” she harrumphed.

“I see,” Thomas replied.

“In Logan’s defense,” Jeff interrupted. “the boy seems rather timid. He may have worried about you scaring him off.”

Helen slapped him with a dishtowel.

“Actually,” Jeff continued. “From what I’ve gathered he didn’t have contact with anyone since the time I saw him a couple of weeks ago until now.”

“Any adults,” Thomas corrected with a frown. “I’m pretty sure he, Patton, and Logan must have been around each other considering how close they already seem to be.” He paused, “Logan implied he wasn’t particularly… comfortable around adults.”

“I did get that impression, yes,” Helen said, pouring the hot water from the kettle into a tea pot and carrying it and some cups over to the table.

“He was incredibly jumpy,” Jeff confirmed. “I imagine he does not have good experiences with many people, but he seems to have grown attached to Logan and Patton. He defers to them in most things and seemed a bit protective.

“Where did he come from?” Thomas asked.

“I’m not sure,” Jeff said. “I found him hiding in the garden shed a couple of weeks ago.”

“Did he sneak in?” Thomas asked.

“That’s what I would have thought,” Jeff replied, “but when I asked, he said he wasn’t trying to steal anything and that he was supposed to be in the castle. So, I’d assumed that meant he was the child of someone living in the caste.”

“But neither of us could find anyone who knew him,” Helen said. “Of course, we didn’t even know his name until now.” She seemed to decide the tea leaves had sat long enough because she started to pour them each a cup of tea.

Thomas took a sip. “Earl Grey,” he commented. “I guess I’m not sleeping much tonight.” It was her ‘planning tea.’

“We need a plan,” she said, “but we’re going to have to be gentle.”

“At least with Virgil,” Jeff said.

Thomas laughed lightly, “and what do you plan to do with the other two?”

“I have my ways.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “You say that,” she said, “but you’re too soft. The two of them learned to run circles around you and your powers years ago.”

“We should talk to them though,” Thomas said. “Separately from Virgil.”

“We should,” Helen agreed. “I already spoke to Patton a bit yesterday, but I will again. We should see if we can ask around and find out why he’s in the castle. We don’t even know how long he’s lived here. Or who brought him here.” The look on her face told Thomas she wanted to have a talk with his guardians whoever and wherever they were.

Helen took a drink of tea, it seemed to calm herself. “We need to make sure whatever has been happening to him is not happening in these walls,” she said.

Thomas had honestly… not thought about that. He’d assumed whatever made Virgil so skittish was in the past, but it was possible that it was ongoing. The thought made him sick.

“Perhaps you should try to talk to him, Thomas,” Helen suggested.

Thomas winced. “I am not sure that is a good idea...”

“Why not?”

“We don’t have the best track record… I don’t think me being around him would be a good idea.”

“Oh, please, Thomas,” Helen said disbelievingly.

“No, you don’t understand,” Thomas said. “He seems disproportionately afraid of me. I think it’s a mix of me being king and how we met.”

“How did you meet?” Helen asked.

“I… gave him a bit of a fright,” Thomas admitted. “Logan and Patton weren’t in the room and I didn’t know who he was. He… ended up under the bed. Then… the second time I saw him he accidently ran into me. He freaked out again.” The memory still made Thomas feel gross. It also made him think there was a lot more to his backstory than the three of them understood.

43410

“Perhaps Jeff can try to talk to him then,” Helen said. “It sounds like he was calmest around you. I’ll push Patton towards taking him to the garden more often. I bet fresh air would do him some good anyway.”

Jeff nodded. “I will try to talk to him a bit more.”

“Great,” Helen said, but Thomas already knew the conversation wasn’t over. “Now we need to talk about strategic events to throw over the next few months that Patton and Logan to invite Virgil to. We’ll start slow, but we need to make sure he feels welcome in the castle.”

Thomas met Jeff’s eyes. Yeah, it was going to be a long night.

Chapter 29

Virgil finished eating the breakfast Patton’s mom had sent for him. It had been going on a week since she’d made the menu for him. She sent up little cards with each meal and he was supposed to rate each thing she sent on a scale from 1-5. Logan would read it to him before he ate, and Virgil mark the little box on the card. Usually, he would put a 4 for everything (he had tried to do 5, but Logan had told him 5 was reserved for things like chicken alfredo). Three was for things that he was neutral on, 2 was for things he didn’t like but could tolerate, and 1 was for things he didn’t like. So far, the only 3 was the unseasoned porridge she’d sent one day.

“Finished?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“What would you like to do today?” Logan asked. “Patton is busy until after lunch, and then we thought you might like to go back to the garden again. It’s supposed to drop in temperature over the next few days, so it will be the last good day for it.”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I don’t care what we do today though.”

“Well, there are a few options,” Logan said.

“What do you want to do?” Virgil asked.

Logan made an expression, and Virgil titled his head. “I’m don’t have anything in particular I want to do,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Virgil said immediately.

“You would not be interested in the activity I wish to partake in,” Logan said.

Virgil squinted at him. “I’d be interested in laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling.”

Logan chuckled. “No, truly. The activity I would do if you were not present would involve reading.”

“You can read to me,” Virgil suggested.

“…In Sanskrit.”

Virgil frowned at him. “Isn’t that, like, some sort of dead language?”

“It is,” Logan said. “I taught myself to read it to read a specific book called the Pragilium Text. It’s an encoded book that leads to a magical location that I have been trying to decode for years.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “You can do that.”

“It would be in the library,” Logan said.

“Okay.”

“But…” Logan said. “It would in no way be interesting to you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Like I said. I’m content to lie on the floor for a few hours.”

Logan frowned. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You wouldn’t be making me,” Virgil said. “I want to go. Maybe you can find me an easy book I could try to read?”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, decisively.

“Very well, get dressed and I will show you the library.”

Virgil stood to do so and a few minutes later, Logan was leading him out of the royal wing.

Both of the guards greeted him kindly, and Virgil hunched his shoulders in a bit, but said a soft “hi.”

The library didn’t end up being too far away. It was through the small dining hall and to the left where the staircase to the kitchen was to the right.

“This is not the main library,” Logan said. “It is just a smaller one. The royal librarian comes here only about once a week to organize. Some other castle residents might come in too, but it is usually mostly empty.” Virgil could tell just by listening for a few seconds that the place was likely empty (unless someone was lying in wait).

“I’ll look and see if there is something simple for you in case you’d like to read. You can explore a bit if you’d like,” Logan said.

Virgil nodded and stalked off into the shelves to secure the area. There were many books, not that he could quite read any of the spines. The bookcases were mostly cramped into the space. There was the open area where they’d come in with a few comfy chairs and Virgil found a desk near one of the windows. It had stacks of books including one pretty large and old one. He looked at it curiously.

Virgil heard Logan’s footsteps approach from down an aisle. “That’s the Pragilium text,” he said.

“It’s pretty,” Virgil said, looking at the design etched into the cover.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. He reached forward to touch it and opened it carefully. The print was small and didn’t look like the letters Logan had taught him so far. There was a small map on the side that Virgil could at least guess at the meaning of.

“You can read that?” Virgil asked.

“I can,” Logan said. “Very few people can though.”

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile.

“Now,” Logan continued. “I found you a book. I apologize as its subject matter is for younger children, but it has many pictures that can help give you context when you don’t know something. You don’t have to read it if you do not wish to, especially as we haven’t gotten very far in our lessons, but I thought you might like the challenge.

He handed him the book and Virgil took it with a smile. “I’ll try to read it,” he said.

“Well, you have free reign of the library. Feel free to continue to explore and to interrupt me if you need to.”

Virgil nodded and took the book before deciding to finish his sweep of the library. It turned out that appearances were not deceiving, and the library truly was empty. Once he was certain about that, he looked around for a comfortable place to settle down and try to read the book Logan had handed him. He found a sturdy looking bookshelf near where Logan was reading at his desk. He scaled it quickly. It was a little bit dusty at the top, but it wasn’t a bad place. It was close to the ceiling and kept him hidden pretty well, but still gave him enough room to pop up onto his elbows. If he looked left, he could see Logan down bellow with his head in the book, but if he looked right, he could see the entrance to the library.

He pulled the book in front of him and looked at the cover. It was covered in drawings of different colored flowers. One simple white flower was in the center and there were three words on the cover. He squinted at it and silently tried to sound it out based on what Logan had taught him so far. He could guess that the larger word was ‘flowers’ based on context. So, he was pretty sure it read How Flowers Grow.

He flipped open the book. Logan was right, there were many hand drawn beautiful pictures. He could pretty much understand what was happening just from them even if he couldn’t read all of the words.

It was an interesting book even if he couldn’t read it and it was obviously made for small children. Judging by the pictures it seemed to be detailing how plants, or at least, flowers grew through some kid planting and caring for a flower over the course of some amount of time.

Virgil had, of course, known flowers grew from seeds, but it was interesting to see things about how the stem would pop out of the seed in the ground and things about the roots growing.

He more looked through the pictures than read it the first time but had flipped back to the front to try to read the words when he heard the library door open.

Virgil perked up in awareness, but then settled when he recognized Patton’s footsteps. Virgil tilted his head to watch as he walk directly to Logan’s hideaway.

“Hi,” he said, gaining Logan’s attention.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied. He glanced at the window and must have seen that time had passed because he closed his book and shuffled his papers.

“The guards said you came here,” Patton said, glancing around. “Where’s Virgil?”

Instead of letting Logan answer that question, Virgil pulled himself forward, with the book in one hand and slid off the bookshelf to land lightly on his feet next to Patton.

Patton screamed before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Logan had placed his hand over his heart. “Where on Earth did you come from?” he asked.

Virgil blinked at him and then pointed to the bookshelf he’d been on top of.

“How long were you up there?” Logan asked.

“Pretty much the whole time,” Virgil answered.

“I…” Logan said. “I didn’t even know.”

Virgil squinted at him. “You need to learn to look up.”

Patton giggled.

Virgil turned on him. “You need to learn to case the area.”

“Oh honey, your shirt is all covered in dust,” Patton said instead of responding to his very valid criticism. Virgil frowned. “Let’s get you changed and then go grab some lunch.”

“Lunch?” Virgil asked.

Patton chuckled and grabbed his hand. “Yes, sweetie, lunch. Then garden.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “But you do need to learn to be more observant.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say,” Patton said.

Logan just rolled his eyes.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out into the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see flowers but see all of the flowers grow. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits. They ended up in the food garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on the direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests, I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin them so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some leftover.”

“Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on your, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop.”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you want to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at the large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected to understand his words and the exasperation in the tone he said them in.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

#proofread stories #not writing

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iamtheblondestblonde · 4 years ago

Text

Last Christmas

AN: Listening to Christmas songs in September is totally normal, right? I was inspired by a couple of songs and I’m procrastinating even though I should really study for some upcoming exams but I had to finish this first. Please enjoy this angsty fluff (is that even a thing?) with one of our favorite Hockey Hunks™.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: There might be a swear word or two and one mention of sex but that’s it

My other writing can be found here

For the first time since the move you finally felt at home and not out of place. To anyone it might only be a regular Wednesday but to you it was more than that. Today marked the day you’d finally managed to clear out the last few boxes, ridding yourself of the only remaining evidence that proved you were alone in a new city, a new country.

You wouldn’t stay alone for long though, your new job was set to start on Monday and you’d always made friends fairly fast so you weren’t worried in the slightest, instead enjoying the quiet that was your apartment for now.

With Christmas less than a month away you’d finally managed to decorate the apartment accordingly and to say you were proud would be an understatement. Picking out a Christmas tree by yourself had been an adult awakening, something you’d always dreamt about.

When you were younger you had imagined a certain someone with you so you could decorate side by side but that hadn’t been an option in years. Although with the move it could be, but you quickly pushed that thought out of your head.

Locating the box with the decorations - some you’d stolen from home - had taken quite a while but as you held the hand-painted angel that had once belonged to your great-grandmother in your hands all trouble was forgotten. You’d have to climb on a stool or something to get it on top of the tree but for now you carefully set it aside, taking a look at your surroundings instead.

The string lights made your apartment glow in warm light that only added to the appeal of the city lights shining in through the big windows. The new job had come with a very attractive signing bonus and while the place wasn’t huge, the modern finishes had made you fall in love instantly.

You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed because you’d been so immersed in decorating and cleaning but the sun had long set and your supper had been quite a while ago. The TV was still on from when you’d turned it on for some background noise, not really paying attention but instead focusing on humming along to your Christmas playlist.

You put on some water and quickly changed into a pair of comfortable leggings and your favorite sweatshirt from your time at Dalhousie University so you could spend the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch with a mug of tea and continue the series you’d started to binge watch a couple of weeks ago. You’d only just pulled the hem of the sweatshirt down your body when you heard your doorbell ring.

Who would show up at your apartment unannounced at this time?

You quickly made your way back into the living space and over to the door so you could check the peep-hole, your heart skipping a beat once you realized who was on the other side of the door. For a second you contemplated simply not opening, but while you were many things in your life, a coward wasn’t one of them.

You knew he could tell that you were home from the music still playing over the speakers and the lights probably escaping your apartment through the slit below the door so you didn’t hesitate long before unlocking the door with shaky hands and swinging it open.

Seeing him again, leaning against the wall opposite your apartment door, was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water at your face. As soon as he realized that you’d actually opened the door he practically jumped from his spot and took two big steps until he was standing a lot closer to you.

You looked up at him, really looked up at him and with him standing there, looking so much like the Pierre you knew but so differently at the same time you felt yourself being catapulted to the day that changed your life all these years ago.

NHL Entry Draft Day back in 2016.

You weren’t religious by any means and you only ever went to church on Christmas out of a feeling of obligation towards your parents but God had you prayed for Pierre to stay close to you. It hadn’t been fair to him, you were well aware of that but for one day you allowed yourself to be selfish. You knew that he was living his dream, finally getting to play in the NHL like he’d always said he would but you were also thinking about your dreams. Dreams that involved him by your side.

Perhaps you were to blame for this mess. It was you who had fallen for the funny hockey player almost two years ago after all, knowing full well that he had big dreams that didn’t really mesh well with yours to go to university in Halifax, a place your family had gone to for ages.

You’d secretly hoped that perhaps Ottawa or Montreal would select him, even if he deserved to be picked long before it was their turn. But at least he’d be at least somewhat close to you then. When he’d been picked third by Columbus you’d been so shocked that you barely remembered kissing him on live television. You’d watched him get on that stage and put on the jersey but instead of crying happy tears at the sight of his dream coming true, you were crying because you knew that this was most likely the beginning of the end of your relationship.

There’d be well over 2.000 kilometers between the two of you sometime soon and although you’d prepared yourself for this for weeks it still hurt more than you could ever imagine. But you still smiled at him all these hours later when you finally got to see him again, telling him how incredibly proud you were.

You tried your best to enjoy that summer, knowing full well that it might be your last one with him. With fall approaching he helped you move your stuff to Halifax while preparing for his own departure to Columbus.

A departure that didn’t come though, because he hadn’t made the roster for the 2016-2017 season and had instead been sent back to play in Sydney, something that had devastated him.

To say that it was hard would put it mildly. You were over four hours away from him and your home and with your new life picking up keeping in touch kept getting more and more difficult. With his travels for the team and your classes you barely saw each other, a series of missed calls and late responses really the only thing that connected you to him. Christmas was the first time you’d seen him in three weeks but you still made the best of it, spending time with him every day and for a little while things were like they used to be.

When he told you that he’d been traded to Boisbriand afterwards you knew that this was it. Pierre had known as well, the defeated look in his eyes mirroring your own and giving him away.

So you’d said your goodbyes, wanting to end things on a good note instead of going through another string of ‘Sorry I couldn’t pick up the phone earlier but call me back when you get this’ and constantly feeling left out. You’d cried, as did Pierre when you hugged him one last time, him desperately wiping your tears away and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before leaving.

He’d ruined hockey for you then, the sport you once loved and spent so much time watching. No more time spent at the rink cuddled under your blanket and gossiping with the other girlfriends but you didn’t miss it as much as you missed him.

You couldn’t even bear to watch him on TV so you’d missed when he scored his first NHL goal during his very first game in the league and all the other ones that followed. It was only when the Blue Jackets had their playoff run earlier this year that you’d finally managed to look at his face on your screen, over two years after you’d last seen him in person.

But now he was here, standing in front of you again.

“I-“, he began before stopping himself, rubbing his hand over his face before dropping it back down to his side and continuing, “I’m sorry for just barging in like this but my mom told me you moved here and I didn’t see it until after the game but I just had to come see for myself. Apparently our families still talk..”

You finally allowed yourself to properly looking at him, trailing your eyes over the features that were once so familiar. He’d grown a bit since you’d last seen him, not just in height but he was also a lot bulkier and more muscular than he used to be, filling out the suit jacket that sat snugly around his shoulders. He must have come straight from the game, hair still a bit wet and curlier than ever, a black pea coat folded over his arm and a duffel bag slung around his torso. You felt a bit out of place in your comfortable clothes compared to his suit that was probably designer but then you scolded yourself because this was Pierre and he’d seen you a lot worse.

“Yeah I know. I ran into your mom this summer when she was in our kitchen for a wine night they apparently have regularly.” You didn’t tell him how hard it had been to not ask about how he was doing and instead make bland small talk before you could finally disappear to your old room.

How could your parents not be friends anymore after your mothers had once joked about wanting a wine bar exclusively for them at your wedding? You didn’t blame your mom for telling his mother either, you knew that she only had good intentions and she’d always wanted the two of you to get back together.

In fact you weren’t completely innocent in the situation either. It was you who had applied for a position in Columbus after graduating this year after all, thoughts of what could be in the back of your mind even if you were adamant about denying it.

“You look good Y/N. I didn’t think it was possible but you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were the last time I saw you.”

You were about to remind him that the last time he’d seen you your eyes had been all red and puffy from crying – which was anything but beautiful – but before you could even get one word out the vintage kettle you had put on the stove to make tea let out its loud screeching noise, indicating that the water was done. You weren’t about to be rude and just Leave Pierre in the hallway just like that so without a second thought you invited him inside before turning around to take the kettle off the stove.

“Do you want some tea as well?”, you asked on a whim, not really knowing what else to do with the stranger that wasn’t really a stranger standing in the middle of your living room. He’d taken his shoes off by the door, apparently still remembering how you much you hated it when people wore shoes indoors and you watched him carefully drape his coat over the back of a chair.

“Sure, thanks.”

You took out a second mug and carefully poured the tea over the tea bags, the scent soon filling the apartment. It was the same tea you always drank during the winter months, ever since you were a little kid. Pierre grabbed the second mug off the counter from next to you and quickly took a peak at the label before giving you a knowing smile. You’d made that tea for the both of you so many times that this felt almost normal, even if your current situation was anything but.

“I’m sorry that you guys lost tonight”, you said to fill the silence that was now falling over the apartment. He looked over with a surprised look, raising his eyebrows.

“You watched the game?”

“Not all of it. I was busy decorating and doing other stuff around the apartment but I turned it on and checked the score from time to time”, you admitted sheepishly, raising the mug to your face in pretense of blowing to battle the boiling hot water but actually hiding away from his attentive stare. He’d looked at you all kinds of ways over your years with him but you had never been nervous because of it, except for that one night with him where he’d seen you naked for the first time and you’d lost your virginities to each other.

Thinking about sex with him wasn’t helping your cause either though because while the first few times had been a little awkward but still fun, the two of you quickly improved and the images of him above you or his head between your legs were only turning your cheeks even more red.

He seemed to drop the subject, thankfully, and instead moved over towards the Christmas tree, admiring your work. You slowly followed him, mug closely clutched to your chest and sat down on the sofa, admiring the way he looked in your apartment instead. The time apart had treated him well and while it was a bit weird to see him with a beard outside of playoffs there was no denying that he looked better than ever.

“I see you still like to live in an environment that resembles hell temperature wise”, he chuckled before he put down his own mug on the couch table and shrugged off his suit jacket. You tried your best not to stare as he popped open the first two bottoms of his shirt before moving on to roll up his sleeves while sitting down a respectable distance away but you were unsuccessful. For the first time you saw his tattoos, as his skin had been innocent and bare up until your breakup but you couldn’t ignore how good he looked with them. Your hands were itching to trace the patterns and because you didn’t entirely trust yourself to be able to control yourself you sat on them to avoid any embarrassment.

You hadn’t even realized that your Christmas playlist had continued playing over the speakers until the familiar opening tunes of “Last Christmas” filled the apartment. You quickly jumped up, reaching for your phone so you could stop the music from playing. It reminded you too much of the last Christmas you’d had with Pierre, now almost three years ago. You’d given him your heart and while he hadn’t exactly given it away he’d still broken it when he’d left.

When you turned back around you noticed the slight blush that painted his cheeks, he’d apparently come to the same realization as you. For a moment the silence was uncomfortable and you were reminded of the time right before the breakup when you didn’t know what to say or do around him, always walking on eggshells for fear of losing him. You’d lost him either way but that was beside the point.

Pierre cleared his throat before speaking up, ripping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Y/N I- I have to ask. Why are you here?”

You knew that you should just be honest and tell him that you were in a way here because of him but you weren’t ready to take that kind of leap just yet. You hadn’t kept up with his personal life for fear of finding something you couldn’t bear and for all you knew he could have a girlfriend right now.

“Well why are you?”, you simply responded instead, leaning back on the couch so you could properly gauge his reaction. You weren’t the one who had knocked on his door late at night.

“Fair enough, I guess”, he huffed before running his hand over his face in the way that had once been so familiar to you.

“When I read that text from my mom, telling me that you lived in Columbus now – that you weren’t thousands of kilometers away anymore I just had to see you. I called my mom to ask if she had your address and you have no idea how smug she sounded when she said she’d text it to me.”

You chuckled at his exasperated expression, knowing full well how his mother could be but stayed quiet to let him continue.

“The team knows about you as well and if I even told you half the shit I had to listen to when I practically sprinted out of the locker room you wouldn’t believe me.”

This made you laugh out loud and when you saw him smile at you fondly your heart skipped a beat for the second time that night.

“What I’m actually trying to say – but failing miserably at – is that I never really got over you and seeing you know only confirmed that. I can’t believe I let you go all these years ago, I was an idiot for thinking I could do it without you because I was absolutely miserable after leaving you”, he finished and you hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying until he reached up to gently wipe your tears away.

“Look I know that we can’t just continue like nothing happened but please bébé, please give me a second chance. I won’t leave you again, I promise.” The fact that he’d used the pet name he’d given you when you first started dating was all it took for you to leap towards him. He wrapped his arms around you as well, creating that perfect cocoon of Pierre that you’d missed so much. When he kissed your forehead this time you couldn’t feel your heart breaking, instead the warmth that flooded your body only glued all those pieces back together.

You knew that there was still a chance that he’d get traded again and that because of his job he’d have to spend quite some time on the road but you’d been miserable after he’d left as well. At least this time you’d know that he’d always come back for you.

“I’m so glad that our mothers love their wine nights and gossip, otherwise you never would’ve knocked at my door and I never would’ve gotten you back.”

“So we’re really doing this? We’re trying again?”, he asked, pulling you back at arm’s length so he could properly take a look at you. You nodded, not being able to stop the big smile spreading on your face.

“Would it be completely out of place if I kissed you right now?”

“Not at all”, you responded before crawling closer towards him until you straddled his lap. His hands reached up to cup your face, thumbs wiping the last of your tears away – happy tears this time – and then he finally pulled you in for a kiss.

Nothing felt more like coming home than kissing Pierre.

The way his lips moved against yours was so familiar that you couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss, reaching up for his shoulders so you could ground yourself in him while simultaneously getting lost in the way his body felt against yours. He buried his hands in your hair and his beard was scratching your skin but you didn’t care, instead letting him pull you closer and deepening the kiss until the only thought you could form was IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoustill.

Eventually you had to pull away though, both of you panting at the lack of air and the closeness of your bodies. It had been so long since you’d last felt his breath fan across your face like this, seen the look in his eyes as he looked at you with absolute wonder but it was as if nothing had changed, the two of you easily picking up where you left off.

“You know that our moms are gonna take credit for that, right? We’re never gonna hear the end of it”, he suddenly groaned and you giggled at his exasperated tone.

“I can live with that as long as it means that I get to have you with me again.”

He pulled you in for another sweet kiss before letting you go again, smiling up at you. You watched his gaze shift to something behind you, twisting your body in his lap so you could see what had caught his attention.

“Is that the Y/L/N Christmas angel? Did you steal it?” He stood up with you still in his lap, slowly putting you down before walking over to where you’d set the decoration earlier.

“It is but I didn’t steal it. Mom gave it to me so I’d have a piece of home with me. I’m not tall enough to put it on the top though and I haven’t gotten around to finding something to climb yet.”

“Need some help with putting it up? Here’s another piece of home ready to be climbed”, Pierre said, extending his arms to the sides and taking a step backwards so he was standing by the tree, angel still in one hand. You shook your head at him while laughing but you still moved closer, ready to climb him like a tree like you’d done hundreds of times before.

Still laughing you jumped on his back and he handed you the angel before wrapping his arms around your legs to support you. With combined forces you were able to complete the tree and Pierre let you down so you could both properly admire your work.

Your dream had come true after all.

You felt him move away from you before he was standing right behind you again, the famous tune of Wham! playing again over the speakers. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and you placed your hands on his forearms, slowly tracing your fingers over the black ink under his skin.

“You’re mon ange Y/N, you know that right? My angel. My someone special.”

Standing on your tippy toes you placed a soft kiss on his jaw before leaning your head back against him, not really knowing how to put your feelings in words right now but you knew he understood by the way he squeezed you tightly, resting his head on top of yours.

This year you’d given your heart to someone truly special.. again.

Feedback is always appreciated 🥰🥰

#pierre luc dubois #pierre luc dubois x reader #pld #nhl imagine #nhl players #nhl fanfiction #my writing #columbus blue jackets #hot hockey players #hockey writing #nhl hockey #ice hockey

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years ago

Text

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

Requested via AO3 comment.

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi

Rage Against the Machine

Summary: The door at the end of the hall has been locked tight for some time now and things seemed to have finally calmed down. Truly, that's where their first concern should have been (Happy Ending)

Warnings: food mention, maggot mention, mild swearing, somewhat disturbing imagery provided by Remus, strangulation, bruising, violence (if there are more please let me know)

Prompt: Lifted by the Neck

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3566

Before you read! This work is a direct sequel to Faulty Logic; I would recommend reading that first if you haven’t to understand the context of this story!

“So we’re just leaving him locked in his room? Seriously?” Thomas looked around at all of them, utterly confused by the decision they had made. Patton sat with him on the couch wringing his hands nervously while Roman sat on his other side, his lips pressed together in thought. Logan and Remus occupied the whole of the loveseat adjacent from them while Virgil was sprawled on the stairs. Janus nodded from his seat in front of the T.V., a chair conjured up in front of it in an attempt to actually hold their manifestors attention.

It was a couple of days after the incident, most everyone wanting to let things calm down at least a bit before taking the situation to Thomas though they all knew it would have to be done sooner rather than later. Rage had been as secured in his room as he could be, now that Thomas knew about him and had at least put a name to his function there wasn't much he could do to get out of having a physical form, making the boards they had nailed to the outside of his door and the chains they ran and secured through a thick lock adequate protection for everyone else's security. Unless he figured out a way to force the door down through brute strength alone, which Janus was very doubtful he'd be able to do, they would be safe for now; a thought which put most of their minds at ease though Logan was understandably still a bit shaken and had taken to hanging out in Remus’ room more often than not, the sight of the hefty morning star and various other weapons throughout the room putting his mind at ease that he wouldn't be so easily taken a second time. Yes, he had told the others, he was there for his own peace of mind and no other reason.

Though if he was leaning more heavily on Remus from his place on the couch, the Duke having an arm thrown over the back of the couch to just barely brush the back of his shoulder, no one said anything. Janus merely rolled his eyes at the display before turning his attention back to Thomas. "Though it certainly isn't the most elegant solution, it will work for now, giving us the time to talk you through things and prepare you as much as possible before you meet him and actively try to work things out with him."

"I just don't-" Thomas dragged a hand over his face and gestured to Logan. "He was locked in a cage! And told he was useless! i don't think that I- Logan I don't think like that."

Logan smiled thinly at Thomas and sat up a bit straighter. "I know Thomas. What was said and done wasn't the result of some underlying goal that you secretly wanted to have happen. It just so happens that Logic is a fairly versatile tool when used to overcome certain negativities in your mind, so I was the first to be targeted as a result."

"But I-"

"Thomas." Logan cut off patiently. "I assure you- I am shaken but unharmed. Best to discuss what we can do moving forward rather than what we could have done. I don't hold it against you, so don't hold it against yourself."

Thomas ran a hand through his hair slowly, looking as if he still wanted to argue but didn't want to risk upsetting Logan by bringing it up further. Deciding to concede for now he turned to Janus who was waiting patiently for the conversation to move to something more productive. "Okay. I...okay. Janus?"

"Yes, Thomas?"

"What do we do now? How can I- I'm not...Janus am I secretly a violent person?"

Janus' eyes blew wide. "Thomas what- no. Why is it that everytime you learn you have a less than favorable trait- actually we’ll table that for another time. Considering just how often it is that you attempt to maul anyone who so much as looks at you funny speaks for itself I should think."

"So why is Rage so violent then? And why do I even have a side dedicated to anger? It doesn't seem like that would be something that would ever help me."

"Rage is..." Janus screwed his mouth to one side trying to think of how to explain it without causing more trouble. "He's not violent...usually. In that he isn't going to always take every opportunity to attack someone or influence others into shouting matches they wouldn't otherwise get in. Anger, as an emotion in and of itself, is a response to something you find unfair or unjust. Whether the belief is founded or not, anger is a part of you that rises up when you feel you have been unfairly treated, or something or someone you care for has been unfairly treated."

"It's like fear," Virgil piped up with a quick glance to Janus. "It's a part of you that responds to your surroundings and makes you aware of how they're affecting you. Anger is a part of you that cares for you and wants you to see the possibility that things could stand to be better for you or those around you."

"Exactly, thank you Virgil." Janus smiled at the anxious side who only nodded and went back to fiddling with his hoodie strings. "It's usually not something that's an inherently bad thing to have unless you frequently find yourself blowing up at even the smallest inconvenience. Like most things it's good in moderation."

"So then why is Rage such a..."

"Raging dick?" Remus helpfully supplied.

"Language.' Patton chided quietly.

"Oh stick it up yours, Morality."

"Remus." Janus warned, effectively shutting up the intrusive side. "But yes, your anger, Rage, acts the way he does for much the same reasons that Remus acts the way he does. He's been suppressed."

"But I didn't know I was suppressing him!"

"Just like you didn't know you were suppressing Remus. Rage works the same way. He gets pent up and bored and then frustrated that he isn't being acknowledged. Which again, he wasn't acknowledged for the same reasons as Remus. You didn't want to see him, so I hid him away. Anger isn't a bad thing in moderation, but to deny you have it at all is almost as detrimental as letting it out too much."

"It's my fault again, kiddo. Part of being a good person, in my mind, is having patience and understanding." Patton hung his head. "I thought that meant it would be better if you just didn't react then...when things made you mad."

"Everyone loves a martyr Patton truly." Patton's head snapped up, hurt flashing across his face.

"That is to say, it isn't solely your fault." Janus quickly amended. "I also had a part in it, as did Virgil and even Logan to an extent. Now isn't the time to see who can carry the most blame, we're trying to get Thomas to understand what went wrong and how we can fix it."

"But how can we fix it? I know I get angry; I was angry about the wedding, I get frustrated when I don't meet my deadlines or something happens that prevents me from doing the things I want. I even swear at traffic jams. What more am I supposed to do?" Thomas looked from Patton to Janus and back and then desperately at everyone else when no one spoke up. He just wasn't an angry person, there were always going to be obstacles preventing him from doing things or some unfair policy that made it more difficult for his friends to do something which was always upsetting. How much more angry did he have to be to satisfy a side he had never met?

"I think," Roman spoke up. "that just letting yourself feel the full extent of it more often would help. Acknowledge it and actively work to fix whatever it is that's making you frustrated would probably be a good start. You're a very passive person Thomas and while in theory that's a very good thing to be, well..."

He gestured to Remus. "No offence but it doesn't always have the best result. You just let things sit and fester, believing that any slip up is a moral failure on your part, and it makes you miserable- whether subconsciously or not. I love you Thomas, and will always fight for you, but there are some battles you have to lose to come out the other side."

"We're not saying you have to start kicking puppies and beating kids." Remus ignored Patton's pained gasp and held Thomas' gaze. "Just like- get a punching pillow or something. Or walk away and scream. All you do is push everything down when you get too full. But eventually you're going to have to take the trash out, and I think you'd rather deal with three day old stinking onion cuts than maggot filled meat."

"I- okay yeah I get it. Thank you Remus." Shaking the image from his head, Thomas nodded and looked back to Janus. "Do you think starting to do that would calm him down enough that he'd eventually listen if we summoned him up?"

"Hard to say. I don't think it should happen for a while yet anyway; letting him tire himself out before we start trying to work with him might be the best course of action. I had definitely realized just how physical he was willing to be to get the acknowledgement. Absolutely no tact but really he comes from you so I don't know what I was expecting." Janus winked letting Thomas know he was only kidding, making their manifestor roll his eyes and sigh deeply.

"So all we can do is wait and see then?"

"Essentially yes. We'll keep watch over his room to make sure he doesn't come after one of us again and when the time comes to call him up we'll have to make sure proper precautions are taken so we're all safe when doing so, but there isn't any harm that I can see in letting him throw himself against the walls for a bit. Rather amusing to see him get so riled up after lurking in your subconscious for years, only coming out occasionally to nudge one of us into conflict like a child tugging the tail of a dog." Janus smiled at Thomas. "For as violent and scary as he is, at his core he only wants to protect and fight for you, even if his methods can be immature at the best of times. You are and always will be in charge when it comes to us. Once you understand that he has as much influence over you as you let him he’ll be much easier to communicate with, and we all trust you that you will never let it go too far."

They all nodded in agreement as Patton spoke up. "You are a good person Thomas. Having anger and intrusive thoughts or telling lies- those are things everyone deals with. It's how you choose to let them influence you that makes the difference. As long as you realise when you've let things go too far and work to fix where you've gone wrong, well- that’s all anyone can ask for."

"Thank you, Patton." Thomas smiled as the fatherly aspect squeezed his knee affectionately and stood, stretching before placing his hands on his hips.

"Welp," He glanced around. "It's getting pretty late, and we have work to do tomorrow so I think we'd all benefit from a good night's rest."

"Agreed. We can better address this in the morning when we can put together-" Logan shuffled through a few notecards. "...a game plan. As much as I would love to have this resolved sooner rather than later we have other responsibilities that need our attention."

"Just remember what we discussed here moving forward," Janus suggested as he stood and snapped away the chair. "and we'll have a much easier time handling Rage when the time comes to do so."

"I will. Just- be careful. I don't want anyone hurt because I can't seem to handle negativity."

"We're imaginary Thomas, it's almost impossible for us to actually be hurt." So saying Roman sunk out, quickly followed by Patton after giving Thomas one last reassuring smile.

"You got this." Virgil gave a two fingered salute before sinking out himself, making him smile as he watched Logan nod and sink out with Remus.

"Thank you again, Janus." Thomas turned to the only side left in the room.

"As much as I'd love to take all the credit, I'm hardly deserving of thanks. I'm just one side, guiding you through your constant moral dilemmas as you question yourself as a person; truly not as big a deal as it seems." Janus sniffed as he tugged at his glove, smirking as Thomas waved him off playfully.

"Alright, alright. Get out before I decide to bring something else up I've been suppressing since childhood."

"If only you knew." Janus mumbled as he sunk out, coming up in the hall where all of their doors were located and looking to the one at the end covered in boards and chains. Seeing nothing amiss he turned on his heel and made his way to his own room across the hall, content in his belief that everything, for now at least, was fine.

-----

The hallway had been suspiciously quiet for a while now- a week to be precise. Janus tested the chains occasionally, careful not to make any noise so the room's occupant wouldn't be suspicious of anything going on outside their confinement. Through all his caution and constant checking and even Remus and Virgil's fussing over what might need to be added to keep the door more secure the room stayed stubbornly silent. It wasn't a bad thing per se, it might mean that maybe Rage was calming a bit since Thomas actually had been taking the time to acknowledge and let out his feelings however and whenever he could, usually through a good vent to one of them or a close friend.

Later, much too late for him to do anything about it, Janus would realize that's where he went wrong. They had all become complacent, assured in their safety with Thomas taking the proper steps on his part and the heavy chains on the door putting all of their minds at ease that for now, everything was okay. Even Virgil began to feel as if things were relatively safe, only occasionally venturing far enough down the hall to make sure things truly were. None of them stuck around long enough to hear the careful scratching on the other side of the door, evidence of which was hidden by the thick boards nailed over it, large gouges and holes gradually growing bigger to weaken the door as much as possible without anyone being any the wiser from the other side. Janus kicked himself for not expecting it, so used to Rage being brash and heavy handed in everything he did that he didn't expect him to do much more than relentlessly throw himself against the door until he was forced to simply sit and wait his sentence out.

So when Logan felt brave enough to check the door himself- read that as when Remus let Logan out of his sight long enough for him to check the door himself- Janus should have been expecting the sound of splintering wood and chains being whipped against the wall. He should have expected the short lived shriek followed by the dull thumping sound of a body hitting a wall or floor. He should have expected it so he could react better- faster. But as it was by the time he had burst from his room, staff fully extended and hat flying off behind him as he ran to the scene, Logan was already in the air, legs kicking as hard as he could against the side that held him by the neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh where bruises were already forming from the harsh treatment.

"Remus!" Janus' scream threw the other dark side off for just a second, but it was enough for him to slam into him heavily, catching Logan's waist with the crook of his staff and using the momentum to swing him into Remus as he pinned Rage to the ground. He was only just able to confirm that Remus had caught their logical side and was carrying him away before he was violently bucked off the one he had pinned, getting a fist slammed into the side of his head as he was tossed aside like a ragdoll. He rolled to his feet despite the black spots dancing in his vision before they engulfed his vision completely, causing mild panic before he heard Virgil's echoing voice booming through the darkness.

"Get him up, Remus, make sure Thomas is blocking him!" Janus braced himself as a wave of pure, unfiltered fear crashed over him, gritting his teeth against the screaming darkness and hanging onto his staff for dear life as it passed him over him in favor of its actual target.

"Janus?" He felt Virgil's shaking hand brush his arm and he immediately grabbed it in his, squeezing gently to let the anxious side know he was there. "Go up with them, I can handle him."

"Like hell." Janus growled and pulled him a bit closer, eyes finally adjusting as he brought his staff to rest in front of them both. He saw Virgil's eyes flash brightly but he held his gaze firmly until the other huffed and faced forward.

"Fine, but I'm only saving your ass once." They watched as Rage stumbled to his feet, cracks appearing in the floor underneath him and flaring a warning in bright orange. Shadows still licked at the edges but fizzled out as they got too close, making Virgil growl in annoyance beside him. Janus stepped forward as the cracks grew bigger, scales glowing bright yellow through the darkness themselves, determined to protect his family- Rage included- for as long as he could.

-----

"Hey Lolo." Logan winced as he cracked his eyes open, mouth parting to speak but all that escaped was a thin whine as his throat flared with pain. "No no no, don't try to talk! Here, this will help."

Something soft and featherlight was placed across his neck and then a light, cold pressure was applied, instantly making him close his eyes and sigh with relief. The pain mostly calm he now noticed he was laying on a rather lumpy surface- most likely the couch- and that his head was being cradled on something warm and squishy. Opening his eyes once more he was able to focus on the fact that Remus' head was directly above his own and quite close, which meant he was being held in his lap, on Thomas' couch, with Remus looking at him with eyes so full of concern it made him want to cry if he wasn't certain that would make his throat swell.

"We'll do this and then see if you can swallow some tylenol to get the swelling and pain down and then- Logan? Am I hurting you? Are you uncomfortable? Do you want me to call someone else up to-"

Logan reached up quickly, wincing slightly with the movement but managing to lay a careful hand on Remus' cheek. He really wasn't able to speak but he was hoping his thanks was conveyed through eye contact as he smiled gently at the other. Remus gave him a small yet loving smile as he brought his other hand to Logan's and turned his head, kissing the palm lightly. "Fucking asshole. You're so smart but you pick the dumbest times to be out of sight."

Logan huffed through his nose and flicked the Duke's playfully, getting a quiet laugh in response as he lifted the ice pack and readjusted it so it covered more of the bruising. "Thought I was gonna come out and you'd be stuffed in a cage again and beaten this time or strung up and hogtied or-"

Logan tapped his cheek sharply to stop the spiral. He was far too hot despite the ice pack and he knew he was smiling quite stupidly up at the other side even though tears were streaming down his face and he wished more than anything he could just speak-

"I love you so much, Logan. As soon as you heal I'm kicking your ass for scaring all of us." Remus swept his hair out of his eyes before resting his hand on his cheek. "We'll take care of it though, and we'll take care of you and everything will be fine."

Logan made to reach up again, a question in his eyes but Remus beat him to it. "And before you ask: Virgil and Janus have done this...too many times; believe me when I say they're fine. Thomas, Roman and Patton are right in the kitchen. Everything's fine, just rest for now."

Dropping his hand to the one on his cheek, Logan would take a ridiculous amount of time to admit he snuggled in further on the Duke's lap, content for now that everything was fine.

This work is also available on AO3!

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littlefoxwithbighat · 4 years ago

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Hi! This is talking about the plot of the dream smp in a meta sense and its a bit negative. The person behind this blog wants to remind you that you can skip if it's not for you and they still love the SMP. :)

ALL DISCUSSION IS ABOUT CHARACTERS. DON'T ATTACK CCS OR I WILL STEAL YOUR KNEECAPS.

I can't lie; I'm really annoyed and worried at the way the writers are handling Tommys character at the moment, and am increasingly concerned about it messing up the plot.

I wasn't very happy with the finale. I don't think that means all is lost, I think they can pull it back but it's going to take some work. I was worried about the way that things were handled before but the green festival was actually very well handled, so my worries were mostly assuaged. But yesterday? I don't know.

The fact nobody lost a cannon death is kind of disappointing. The weight of blowing up an entire city/ (country?) brutally is somewhat lost if there is no human loss. Nobody was hurt physically and the only people this had a big mental impact on was Tommy and Tubbo, everyone else wasn't very attached to L'manburg or had gone rogue, or were detatched from the while situation. And maybe it's the fact it's happened to them before or that they still have each other or that it seems odd/ frustrating that they still care so much about this place or that it was always a losing battle and they knew it, but I dont find myself really pitying them like I probably should. And I think that comes down to character growth or lack thereof, which I'll discuss later.

Niki and Fundy have started a villain arc, or at least a violent nihilism arc, and I actually don't mind it, in fact I'm a fan but it wasnt really foreshadowed, or really just showing them cracking as much as it should have been. I would guess this has mostly been started for both of them to tie Niki into the plot and I can't blame her for wanting that. Fundys acting is very good, and I REALLY hope the writers handle this well. For Fundy, regarding the fact that his father is going to be resurrected and that Fundy is following in his footsteps... If the writers don't realise that connection and make this a big step in Fundys narrative I will scream. Also Funboo bros are very interesting character foils and I hope their relationship is maintained so that they can play of off each other and also man I just really want them to keep being friends, it's a generally positive healthy relationship that makes both characters sympathetic and we need that right now. As for Niki, her character motivations seem to be mostly centered around Tommy and on the one hand I'm like ehhhh, because Tommy's character already gets a disproportionate amount of attention in terms of narrative, and I get it, but recently he's been a bit TOO much of the protagonist for a multi-person POV improve server... and I'm apprehensive. However on the other hand this has potential for a nice confrontation between Tommy and Niki. If that happens I want Tommy to be aware that this is going to happen and not talk over Niki, and I don't want it to be brushed over. I think it would be best if it was just the two of them. This also gives a nice chance for Tommy to examine his trauma with Dream and explain his motivations and Niki to get her anger out. I also want it to end positively, because it absolutely can and lack of communication when the viewer knows how to fix it is OK as a plot device sometimes but incredibly frustrating if it keeps happening (cough, Tommy and Techno).

Ranboo is reacting to the plot amazingly and I have as usual only praise for him, go, you funky enderman boy, go.

Wilbur is getting resurrected which is a thousand percent because Will wants the plot back and honestly I don't really mind, I think he'll do a good job. However I really hope he speaks to everybody about their characters, particularly Fundy, Ranboo and Niki because I don't want their characterisation and arcs to be thrown away.

Tubbo is doing very well, and I don't have many complaints to be honest. I hope he continues to get in with the acting with no shame, because he's an amazing VA when he wants to be, but sometimes he undercuts serious moments a little too much by laughing. Same criticism for Phil actually. But both are doing good.

On the theme of that, while I don't mind tension relievers or humour in serious moments there are sometimes too many. It was a lot worse about a month back and it was improving, but it seems to be creeping back in and ehhh. It's kind of Marvel-esque and not in a good way? I think it has a lot to do with bloopers and for some reason there are loads at the moment? Like Wilburs arc had almost none and this arc there's at least 2 every moment. Which isn't always their fault but maybe they need to take more steps to prevent them.

Techno is doing OK, he's quite a meta character so I'm not too mad about him undercutting serious moments but sometimes he does do it too much or in the wrong place. Like making jokes about Connor completely over the top of Tommy and Tubbos reunion, you know an event which has been foreshadowed for yoinks, prevented them from getting a proper flow going and kind of ruined it. And that made the reunion really dissapointing, which is a shame because it could have been so cool. However his characterisation is consistent and dedicated, his goals and relationships are clear and he's getting humanised more which is nice, and his monologues are great. I'm curious to see what he does now NL'M is gone but I have total faith in him.

Now Tommy. Oh Tommy. His character is such a mess at the moment, which is a shame because there were moments I saw people doubting his character choices and I was behind him.

Firstly the relationship with Techno fell apart. That was inevitable. Tommy didn't care about anarchy and Techno didn't care about the discs and both of their goals would impede the others. But the way Tommy talks about Techno is so... No? And now I understand that Tommy is going to have a biased perspective on the whole situation, and that's fine and good, but his character is so wrong about Techno it feels weird and painful? Like even from his perspective it went down differently to how he talks about it. They don't listen to each other and it's like watching two people scream at a wall.

The issue is the relationship was fairly well developed. I struggle to see Tommy saying he saw Techno as a friend but Techno never saw him as a friend because hold on, what? Techno, here's a respiration helmet because of that one of thing you told me about your trauma, a disc because those make you happy, plus top tier armour and weaponry, plus I'm going to spend time with you, calm you down from panic attacks, hide you and protect you from Dream, let you wander around L'manburg and achieve your own goals and help you plan things out Techno and Tommy didn't get ANYTHING from that? Plus after Techno opens up about his goals and his trauma, do the one thing that would hurt him the most, (use and then betray him) and then directly oppose his goals after he helped me? Ugh. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I know he would never let Tubbo get hurt and thats fine, but there were ways around that. If you're framing this character as the protagonist, then he needs to be sympathetic or at least grow and Tommy using Techno again without remorse and then refusing to listen to his perspective or show any gratitude for anything makes it difficult for viewers to empathise with him in my opinion. Have him betray Techno and then listen to Techno when he explains why Tommys betrayal hurt him and apologise, fine. Have him listen to Techno and try and find a way to keep Tubbo safe regardless, fine. Have him betray Techno but apologetically and still trying to avoid Techo getting crushed or killed, fine. But THIS? Im sympathetic towards Tommys character but this throws away so much potential character development for Tommy, where at least he saw Techno as a person, and not only that but a nice person who despite everything has set aside everything to help him? And then for him to be exactly where he was at the end of season 1, both literally, and emotionally ? I understand this is a child soldier with trauma but this is supposed to be our protagonist and if he doesn't grow, and isn't sympathetic and destroys someone we care about, how can we root for him?

Now all of this could be forgivable, not great, but forgivable, if Tommy had moved on from the discs. The Goddamn Discs™. And the worse part is all the dominoes were lined up to suggest he had! We had his moment of "he watched me" where he realised Dream was the villain and controlling him, "I've become worse than everyone I hated" good, amazing, I see where this is going, "The discs were worth more than you ever were!" and then he retracts and apologises and you think horray! Tommy has realised the discs were being used to control him and if he doesn't care about them, they hold no value! Now he's going to realise that his friends are more important and he's going to stop going after the discs. His new character motivation can be killing Dream and protecting his friends, especially Tubbo. It's clearly angled this way, and this way the plot progresses and Tommy with it. What marvellous character development. Look at him go.

And THEN, after everything that's happened he says the most important thing is the disc and I want them back!?!? EH !!? Why... Who... Who gave the OK on that writing decision? That's so static and boring and unsympathetic! And then he's back to asking people do fight for L'manburg? What?

I'll be honest I was kind go hoping either Tommy or Tubbo would die with L'manburg. I didn't mind it they didn't, there are a thousand ways to make the plot work without them dying, but this was not a great one.

PLEASE let Tommy have some growth. Yes he's had some from not caring about L'manburg to fighting for it in season one, but that was ages ago and he doesnt seem to have changed since then in any way that really counts. And I know this is harsh and he's traumatised but you have to understand I am talking about this in a sense of characters and narrative and NOT in terms of real life. Tommy needs to be better and dynamic because he is a charcacter and I want him to be a good one.

Having said all that, here are my thoughts on the future of the SMP.

Firstly, I am worried that becuse it is such a good source of content, especially for Tommy that they will never ever kill his character and leave him fighting with Dream for eternity. And I love the Dream SMP but I've seen stories that get dragged out for plot or content, and however much you think you want it to never end, let me tell you, yes you do. It will get stale and repetitive and I want the dream smp, or at least Tommys arc to go out with a beautiful and brilliant and fabulous plot ending instead of being dragged into the dirt. And then maybe new characters take the spotlight. Just please god give it a goode ending.

I also really hope they don't throw other things away to make Tommy the centre of attention, especially if it's destructive to the plot, or kind of weird and obnoxious.

Secondly, I am intrigued about the prison and Schlatts book to Dream and Technos favour and the egg and what that entails and I hope they really think through those plot points carefully and make them work, and don't forget them or throw them away.

Thirdly, I am intrigued for Wilburs return and hope that he manages to fix it cohesively without too crazy a change of pace and style and keeping characters (especially Ranboo and Fundy and Niki) consistent.

I hope they prep for the future and think things thought and communicate with each other.

It might be interesting to see other countries finally discussed but I don't know how much that would intefere with other plot points so we'll see.

That's all! Reminder that this is about characters and plot and this is just a few criticisms. I love the dream smp, but there are somethings I wanted to get of my chest. Please be respectful and feel free to discuss in the notes. Also, again, no hate to any CCs!

#mcyt #mcytumblr #dream smp theories #dream smp analysis #dream smp #dream smp spoilers #dream smp meta #tommy mcyt #negativity #negativity tw #dream smp plot

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leviathan-dee · 4 years ago

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DMC Week 2020: Day 7: An Enticing Outcome

(An AU day! I’ve recently watched Van Helsing and had the need for masquerade Vergil and vampires. I’ve also never written smut before, so there is a small debut of spice at the end of this story lmao) (Vergil x Reader) (NSFW, sexual content, mentions of alcohol, canon typical blood and violence).

Thrown amidst an exsanguinous masquerade, you were left to fend for yourself, until a handsome and very much animated young noble graced you with his presence in hopes to rescue you from your predicament.

Word Count: 4,682

Characters: Vergil, Dante, Fem!Reader

Read On AO3

A starless night stretched outside the arched windows, an abyssal blanket shrouding the supposed ‘jovial’ celebration. It appeared as though the evening was overbearingly cold, albeit the vermilion glow of candles and chandeliers that peppered the ball. You should be warm. In fact, you should be sweating. However the facade of extravagant foods and fabricated smiles couldn’t possibly hope to mask the cold reception.

You brushed your goosebumps away, before observing the patrons of the masquerade evening. Mulberry silk and crushed velvet fabrics draped over bodies dragged on the tiles, the sound resonating almost deafeningly. These strangers waltzed amongst the golden halls, frozen limbs rigid in their movements. Even the gentle lul of acoustics, violins and pianos, appeared tuneless. Lifeless.

Naturally, the perfume thick air became colder with these observations. You coiled your tense fingers around the wineglass, the liquid within thickly sloshing at the movement. You eyed your drink with curiosity, sniffing the rim of the crystalline glass, before a sickly scent overwhelmed your senses. It was oddly metallic for a wine. You silently took note that the aristocrat your father wanted you to marry had peculiar tastes.

You assumed a doleful smile. Admittedly, you never expected yourself to be handed away to some noble, body and soul, for a fleeting promise of wealth and power. For a mere title, your flesh and blood threw you away like some bleating lamb, ready for the cut. Sad, truly. And yet, here you were, wearing the finest satin gown with an amethyst encrusted mask, preparing to don the title of Countess of Redgrave alongside your future husband.

For one final time, you attempted to swig a gulp of the obscure alcohol, instead gagging at the smell as it hit the back of your throat. You made a wheezing sound, forcing the bile down before it projectiled onto the polished surface of the ballroom. The mask wearing passersby began to eye you with stares that seemed oddly vacant; Perhaps even hungry? You averted your gaze, attempting to keep to yourself, as a morbidity so indescribably visceral, pierced through you at the thought.

Your prayers appeared to have been answered, a towering man with a gaze that gleamed with life graced your presence. The subtle flint hue in his irises was a welcome change to the usual cadaverous stares from the guests. Though their colour was cold, his eyes radiated a fervid warmth.

Tentatively, he approached you, seeking silent permission to close the gap. Your tranquil manner confirmed his wordless request. As he drifted across the polished tiles, you noted he was of highborn descendancy, his frame draped in exquisite brocade, the colour of Siberian delphiniums cascading from his chest in lacy frills. The man’s chiseled jaw was framed by a Venetian mask of vivid golds, whilst his silver locks sat subserviently slicked back. His tailcoat settled on the broad shoulders with nary a sign of creasing on the fabric. You took note that the air of sovereignty appeared to move behind him like an obedient wind.

Undoubtedly, he intrigued you.

A sweet scent of spiced apple and cinnamon gently wafted through the labyrinth of expensive perfumes, as the man finished his approach. It was as if he eclipsed the entire world with his presence. Though his height was intimidating, you felt safe knowing that the rose tint of his plush lips seemed more alive than the population within the hall tonight.

"You do not belong, my lady." The slight adenoidal, yet husky tone of the voice caught you off guard, alongside the strangely insulting statement. Though the sentence was forward and harsh, it was oddly true. You inhaled a quick breath before responding.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Forgive me for my brashness, your courtesy, but I fear a lady of your stature and health must not reside in such establishments, no matter how tempting it may be.” The cordial hum that followed his explanation somehow warmed your chilled core. Becoming aware of the titles he rained upon you, your cheeks began to blaze with a feverish life. You chuckled bashfully in turn, tracing the lip of your wine glass with your fingertips. His eyes followed the movement eagerly.

“I have yet to marry the Count. You need not address me as such.”

“It would be inappropriate of me to address you as anything but your future title, your ladyship.” The man’s tone stayed low yet soft spoken. Falling into deep thought, your fingers continued to circle the rim of your crystalline glass, a sweet melodic sound resonating between the two of you.

“I see. May I ask the gentleman his name, my lord?” As you finished your request, the noble beckoned your hand.

“You may, my lady,” swooping down to a low bow, he palmed your fingers, cradling them close to his face to plant a chaste kiss upon the knuckles, “Vergil Sparda, at your service.”

This noble, Vergil Sparda, kept his gaze on yours with every inch of your knuckles he pecked. A bashful expression spread across your face, the man sighing contentedly at your blazing cheeks. For the first time tonight, you felt welcomed. Welcomed by someone that appeared animated, as opposed to the cold-blooded patrons of the evening.

You took your hand back, already missing the feeling of his velvety lips upon your skin.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.” Feeling somewhat embarrassed at your sudden schoolgirl attitude, one certainly not befit of a future Countess, you averted your gaze in order to regain your composure. It was not a successful endeavour.

“The pleasure is mine, your ladyship.” Vergil seemed to enjoy your abrupt change in posture, dragging out the vowels of every word with his honeyed voice to get another coy response. You wanted to return his teasing with your own coquettish mannerisms, however the exchange took a turn in your stomach, your abdomen becoming a breeding ground for rabid, carnal butterflies.

Trying to keep whatever dignity you had left from your burning cheeks, you proceeded to ponder the man’s goals. He appeared as though he did not belong here.

Come to think of it, neither did you.

“May I inquire as to what your affair with the masquerade is tonight?” Your question appeared to have caused his hand to reach for his silver hair, slicking the loose tendrils back into their place. Vergil fell deep in thought, before reaching for your glass of obscure scarlet liquid. He beckoned the wineglass onto his palm.

“I have business with the Count. A personal matter. In fact…” As he spoke, you obeyed his request for the glass, reaching forward dangerously close. Your fingers brushed past his, the warmth of foreign flesh feeling utterly scandalous.

Calculating his movements, his eyes kept burrowing into your soul, your stomach continuing its somersaults. Albeit the flirtatious moment, he examined the liquid within the glass with a disgusted snarl. Even through the Venetian mask, you could easily distinguish the slipping facade of stoicism, revealing a repulsed frown.

“My lady, have you ingested anything this fine evening? This drink included?” He swished the sanguine liquid, as an almost noxious, metallic odour began veering itself into your lungs once more. You tried not to gag, attempting to retain your poise. You kept your mouth shut in fears of suddenly emptying your stomach onto your ball-gown, instead opting for a vigorous shake of the head. Vergil nodded approvingly, before tossing the crystalline container aside, letting the macabre smelling swill pour in torrential floods down the polished surface of the ballroom. The ghoulish crowd reacted disapprovingly at the shattering sound of the glass.

“Very good. Now, follow me.”

Cradling your hand, the young noble pulled you in like a singularity, both mentally and physically. He seemed hasty, albeit his cool exterior of unwavering stoicism. You both weaved through crowds of marbled velvet, avoiding the dragging gowns and spilled wine . Each patron’s mortiferous faces contorted at the sight of your apprehension and worry. It appeared as though the whites of their eyes were a ghastly porcelain, so unbearably white that they gave off a luminous glow. Even their smiles seemed pernicious in nature, each tooth a sharp rapier ready to gnaw at whatever fell beneath their gaze.

Something felt off.

Sudden panic spread within your frame, your fingertips going numb, alongside an anxiety induced lump of phlegm forming in your throat. Your legs carried you beside Vergil, yet the seductive noble provided you with not a sliver of information to suggest why there was such a rush.

What was his business with your future husband?

What putrid liquid was in the glass?

Why did these guests appear so necrotic in nature?

With each step, your calves seemed to burn with a sweet ache of exhaustion. Undoubtedly, you had enough.

“Stop!” Your plea went ignored, the ultramarine draped noble with eyes of silver continuing on his cascade down the stairs towards the exit of the masquerade.

“Please?!”

“Not now, your ladyship.” Pausing in his surge out of the doors, Vergil turned to you, his arctic eyes pinning you down with an unwavering stare. It appeared as though it was a warning, yet not for you personally.

“Stop calling me that. I am no Countess. And unhand me, at once.” You inhaled a shuddering breath, unsure whether the surging unease was from your nefarious surroundings or the noble’s frigorific stare. You continued, nevertheless, once more attempting to break the silence of Vergil’s gaze.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Away. It is not safe here.”

“Why?” You continued to wriggle your wrist under his iron albeit somewhat tender grip. Firm, yet not once feeling uncomfortable. He wordlessly sighed, tugging at your wrist, beckoning you to follow him. You felt safe in his presence, however each step felt like pulling teeth, your lack of knowledge in the situation filling you with dread. Giving up in your endless tirade of defiance, you followed the noble, his mood improving dramatically.

Each stranger became a grotesque amalgamation of lucid terrors, their teeth lengthening with every inch of the gap you closed between yourself and the exit. Their skin grew rubicund scales, their pupils morphing into sharp slits.

The golden arches of the entrance called to you, Vergil’s steadfast resolve forcing you away from danger, and certain demise.

It all occurred so incredibly swiftly.

One moment you were being protectively held against the silver hair’s chest, feeling his proud melodic drumming of the heart. The next, an ancient, ethereal weapon of foreign lands materialised within Vergil’s hands, flooding your vision with phosphorescent cerulean sparkles.

He stormed at the diabolical crowd, gently pushing you behind him to safety. Within a sliver of a second, the patrons of this nightmarish evening metamorphosed to what you can only explain as vampires from stories your dear mother told you, in order to scare you, and make you obey her orders. Your noble protector, however, made short work of them, parrying each swing of their hungry claws. Lifeblood flowed in rivers. Flesh was torn, and bones were fractured. These fissures within the vampiric patrons’ bodies were endless, Vergil showing no benevolent mercy as he summoned a cyclone of blades to sever body from limb.

Slashing with an unmatched speed, Vergil was a tempest. None could stand in his way. With every attempt at his flesh, the monsters were tossed aside, their teeth still baring and searching for a chalice to drink off. It was inevitable that one exsanguinous guest was lucky enough to swipe at your protector. Swirling on his heel, Vergil barely dodged a gnarly claw, his Venetian veil dropping to the bloodied floor. It was then, that you finally earned a glimpse of the noble’s face.

He was an incredibly concentrated man, the wrinkles upon his visage indicating a permanent grimace. A small, albeit deep, crinkle took residence between his brows. You could not help but become entranced with his features. Even his silver locks had come undone from their usual position, swaying in the wind with effortless ease, framing his sharp jaw. Every aspect of his face was bedecked in grace and grandiose elegance; Expressions of harsh focus, yet features of tender origins.

This fixation was cut short, Vergil Sparda calling forth Geryon, a horse of sublime magnificence. Its sleek surface appeared to reflect the vermillion lights of the ball inside, the horse’s shadowy appearance seeming like a void of pure black.

Snapping his fingers, Vergil ordered you forward beside him, whilst fending off hordes of ravenous predators. Undoubtedly, you obeyed. Hiding behind him, Vergil inhaled deeply before crouching, drawing his sword only a minuscule sliver to reveal the radiating power within its sheath. You observed the peeking metal. It appeared as though it was a pure mirror, reflecting the nobles devious visage in all of its glory.

The ground shook violently, forcing you to steady yourself on the man’s shoulders. As the necrotic beings approached, cerulean energy swirled around the two of you, the air becoming thick with tension and the smell of smoke.

And then… Silence.

Silence that was followed by pained groans and the cacophonous sounds of sliced flesh. The display of severed dimensions, refractions of light dancing around your vision, materialised without a single movement from Vergil Sparda. Your jaw sat ajar at the sudden majestic view. The air seemed to become sliced into many tiny slivers, like paper-cuts in reality.

As the quiet resumed once more, the noble closed the gap between his hilt and the sheath with an achingly slow snap. His lips curled mischievously upon seeing your expression of shock.

“That was- What was that?” Your query went ignored, the noble wordlessly hooking his arm around your waist to prop you upon the horse. Letting out a tiny squeak, you complied, grabbing onto the braided mane of the creature. The noble effortlessly sat upon the steed’s spine in front of you.

“Hold on.” His voice was steady. Husky and low. Whether it was from the battle, or your closeness to him, the sudden change in character concerned you. Nevertheless, you once again complied, coiling your arms around his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat pound against your palm. The scent of cinnamon would have been overwhelming, if not for the splatters of blood that blended with the sweet spice.

It was a tranquil ride, the stillness of the Redgrave forest forcing you to adopt a reticent manner. Though your physical closeness to the man was evident, you still had barriers to uphold. Your head seemed to nod against his broad back, the warmth calming you into the realm of slumber. No words were spoken between the two of you.

Thus, the horse continued with utmost haste.

Away from the masquerade.

Away from the Count.

Away from your title.

…

“My lady. We have arrived.”

The noble hopped off of the horse, his ultramarine shirt ruffles soaked in tar-like blood. Tentative in his movements, he offered you his hand in order to help you reach the floor to safety. Your toes touched ground with a less-than elegant huff resonating from your lungs, with you accidentally stumbling into the towering noble’s chest. An apologetic expression graced your visage. Before speaking, you yawned widely, a small giggle bubbling from your chest.

“Thank you,” keeping your fingers laced around his own, you squeezed reassuringly before craning your neck up to observe the scratches upon his face, “how are you faring? You’re injured, my lord.”

“I’m fine.” Although his voice was firm, his expression was grave. It seemed to soften whilst his eyes lingered on yours. Your own vision appeared to trail around his features, the glimmer of intrigue never dwindling. The curiosity was overwhelming. You wondered how his velvety lips would feel upon your own plush mouth. Would the sensation be the same as the chaste kiss he placed on your knuckles? Or would it be so much more-

Unfortunately, your trail of thought was cut short. The tender, yet focused gaze of the man morphed into one of annoyance, as a boisterous noble sprung forth from a gold embellished carriage, his horse neighing in defiance.

You attempted to wave off your bashful and warming complexion; However, to no avail.

The man appeared identical to Vergil, noting that the noble may be a less stoic twin to your saviour. He was draped in matching brocade, except for the scarlet hues that peppered his frame. His locks also appeared to match Vergil’s current state, cascading to the sides of his jaw, framing the chiseled features elegantly. A broad, genuine smile spread across the man’s lips as you approached beside your saviour, continuing to subconsciously lace your fingers with Vergil’s.

“Welcome back brother, you finally made it. And ahh, Lady Y/N, it is an honour to finally make your acquaintance. I am at a disadvantage.” You attempted a warm smile, your curling lips appearing disingenuous. You instead opted for a curtsy, the scarlet clad man bowing in turn.

“We must leave at once, the Lamiae demons are close behind, Dante.” Vergil ran his fingers through his silver hair to fix its positioning, furthering the differences between him and his brother.

“I beg your pardon? Demons? My lord, explain yourself! Demons?!” A small ghost of a smirk tugged at Vergil’s lips, leaving you perplexed as to why he derived such pleasure from your fright. Holding on to your delicate fingers, he pulled your figure towards the carriage, beckoning you to enter to safety.

“Come on. We need to press on.” Vergil’s brother, Dante, assumed a serious tone which somewhat bewildered you. He returned to the carriage, placing his posterior back into the rider’s seat, whilst whistling to draw the attention of Geryon. To your surprise, the black horse emigrated in front of the carriage. Dante’s arms began to glow with a royal violet magic, a bridle morphing in his palms, connecting him to Geryon and the carriage.

You watched in complete awe. Vergil Sparda noted your wide-eyed stare.

“I will explain everything when we’re moving towards safety, my lady.”

Nodding in agreement with your features still morphed through perplexion, you followed the towering man. The inside of the carriage was a luxurious change to the forest outside. Countless silk fabrics were draped over the seats, swaying with embellished fleur de lis symbols. Vergil gently fixed a section of the silk, letting you relax from the recent life-threatening events.

You sighed as you landed amongst the cushioning fabrics.

Vergil sighed with contentment in turn.

“Me and my brother were to exterminate the threat within the masquerade tonight, the Lamiae. We did not anticipate that their depraved rituals would involve an innocent bystander such as yourself, until recently...” Sitting beside you, Vergil’s fingers laced around yours, gently stroking your skin with his thumb. It was a harmless act of absent-minded tenderness and comfort, yet it felt so much more than a simple gesture. Something amorous began to broil in your stomach.

“I… apologise if I was too abrasive, my lord. You saved me from certain demise, and I should thank you for that.” As you spoke, the noble kept his softened gaze upon yours, drawing your hand to his lips, to place more ardent pecks on the skin. That same feeling of wanton curiosity overwhelmed you as it once did at your first meeting with the enticing man.

“No need to apologise, Lady Y/N. It would be a shame if a woman of your stature was overly submissive.”

For the first time this evening, your name rolled off his tongue. It sent countless lascivious shivers down your spine, your grip on his fingers tightening at the mention. He seemed to note the reaction with his own returning squeeze of your delicate hand.

“Besides, I could not allow a creature of such extraordinary beauty to fall into the hands of that vile Count.” The atmosphere within the chamber appeared to drift into one of attraction, the two of you being pulled in by pure inquisitiveness. Your eyes danced between his own, whilst the blaze within your abdomen and cheeks began anew.

“I- Thank you, Vergil.” You decided to grace his ears with your own utterance of his name. He gave a small smirk, reaching up to a stray lock on your cheek, which he deftly pushed aside to have a better view of your embarrassed visage.

Sitting quietly, the carriage began its journey, Dante whistling a tune to himself, occasionally talking to the horses. You let out some giggles upon hearing the noble’s less stoic twin make conversation with the creatures, and hearing Vergil’s exasperated scoffs at the comments.

Pondering your predicament and the sudden appearance of your timely rescuer, a question bounced to the forefront of your mind.

“Was I to become one of them?” Though the question was harmless enough, Vergil’s brow wrinkle made a comeback.

“Your ladyship, you were no future wife to the Count, but a sacrifice. These demons are vampiric by nature, and rarely ‘recruit’ into their ranks. The Count simply found you worthy enough to… drain.” As the words cascaded from his lips, your nausea returned in full force. Vergil noticed your anxious demeanour, cradling your chin to meet his gaze. Your head spun like a silk throwing machine, the world becoming a hazy mess of subdued hues.

“I am sorry to say this, but your father knew this all along.” His low, yet tender tone flowed through the air. Though tears were meant to escape your vision, your sorrow and grief was as dry as a desert. Nothing could hurt as much as the mention of your own father wanting your death in exchange for a title.

Vergil continued to cradle your face, stroking small circles upon your skin to ease the sting of such news. He seemed to understand this burning feeling. Your eyes met with his again, searching for answers that were not there. Perhaps you were not searching for answers? Searching for comfort instead? Perhaps a friend?

“Truly, Vergil. Thank you for this. How can I possibly repay you?”

“There is no need, my lady. Your company is enough.”

The comment rolled off as a request, rather than as a statement. Your company was his desire,

and you wanted to comply.

For what monstrous contessa would deny this pulchritudinous hunter their reward?

Certainly not you.

As the smell of cinnamon and spiced apple graced your lungs, the thrill of supple lips brushing against yours overpowered the senses. His fingers carded through your hair, mirroring your own movements of trailing fingers through his arctic locks. Your shivers seemed to come in endless waves. His tongue delved curiously at the entrance of your lips, asking silent permission to explore further. You complied once more, parting your mouth, and sighing into his warmth. Tiny mewls escaped your throat, the noble reacting positively to your noises with the nestle of his palm against your thigh, and a possessive, almost hungry, pull towards his hips. Eager to sate your wanton curiosity, you plunged into each others’ embrace in unison, sharing this moment of voluptuous desire.

You hadn’t even noticed the speed at which your clothes were discarded. Vergil’s hands moved along your naked thigh, enjoying the shifting muscle, to meet the folds of your slicked petals. His hands began to travel miles upon the shivering skin of your loins, his fingers tracing your exposed core, finally pushing to the apex of your pleasures with repetitive yet decisive movements. Pump after pump of his fingers against your satin centre, your gaze shifted towards his lustful eyes, his expression reflecting the sheer pleasure he experienced watching your flower unfold beneath him. The mischievous smirk that formed on Vergil’s visage appeared to have pushed you even further into the blissful euphoria he was so easily able to thrust upon you with nothing but his hands.

The feverish yearning for his full glory inside of you was unbearable. You began to plead him, as his honeyed sighs and low growl resonated against your neck, his velvety lips promising release, brushing soft kisses against the flesh. He did not give in, however. His delicate, yet strong digits continued their tirade at your core, pushing you to your limits as you sighed out his name in a delectable, yet hushed voice.

Oh how scandalous this union was. To be stolen away on the night of the masquerade, which your fiance gifted you for the consolidation of two families. How scandalous was it to spend the night with a stranger you barely knew, no matter how tempting it was. You continued mewling into his ear, gracing your saviour and conqueror with euphoria, whilst pondering these vulgar acts.

Impatience appeared to overtake the silver haired noble. His facade of stoicism and composure slipping into one of fervent need for your sweat slicked body against his. Before your very eyes, his skin was exposed to the fervid warm air of the carriage. Unable to control your own carnal need for the man, your fingers laced around his member, his seed beading at your satin touch. A small, almost cautious exhale of gratification escaped Vergil’s lungs. Achingly slowly, your thumb traced the tip of his cock, coating his seed across the silken skin. His eyes darkened with an insatiable hunger, pushing your back against the cool silk of the carriage. It was then that your thighs shivered with an expectant welcome.

As his frame fit against yours, like a finishing piece of the puzzle, the sensation of his decadent skin propelled you to a realm of exhilaration. He pushed your folds to the sides, revelling in the display of your glazed over eyes and your slicked petals opening up only for him. Tentatively, he lavished your core with his length. The noble closed the gap between your hips, relishing in the sensation of your satin walls, whilst observing the blooming lethargy his body caused in your own. With each slow pump, the quiet groans that escaped Vergil’s lips poured out in unison with your own.

An abrupt thrust into your core caused an overbearing moan to escape your lungs, Vergil’s eyes widening in fears of alerting the oblivious driver. He placed his palm against your mouth to quieten your fragmented voice. The danger of being found out only quickened your arousal, your silken walls closing around Vergil’s cock. This caused his pupils to completely blow out, quickening the pace to chase his pleasure with yours.

Vergil’s racing heartbeat unified with yours, and the marks he left upon your skin with his longing bites, seemed to push you to your limits. Your thighs closed around the noble’s hips, welcoming a vigorous ecstasy to bloom within your frame. He followed suit, prolonging his euphoria with feverish thrusts into your core. Amidst each pump, you breathed in his scent, kissing the frame of his jaw with worshipping pecks after pushing his palm away from your mouth. You let your voice fill his ears, his own husky groans gracing your skin as a delectable orgasm spread within his body.

This maelstrom of pleasure pushed all of your worries aside, forgetting the predicament of betrayal and the discovery of the existence of demons. The view of the panting, undone hunter above you, his muscles rippling alongside the intoxicating feeling within his loins, was grandiose to say the least. You admired his sweat slicked skin, running your fingers across the Herculean build of his abdomen.

A victorious, as well as dangerous, smirk formed on his lips.

He appeared to enjoy your cherishing gaze.

Reaching down to knead the skin on your buttocks, he drew you in for another round, his craving for your silken walls not yet sated.

You expected this evening to be dull and monotonous. And yet, your heart beat faster than it had its entire existence from carnal pleasures. Was this your way of saying thanks? With both your bodies interlocking, causing saccharine friction between silk sheets?

It appears so. But you didn’t mind.

And neither did Vergil.

Here’s hoping Dante wouldn’t hear the events of this hedonistic night as it continued until the end of your long journey.

#dmcweek #dmcweek2020 #devil may cry #vergil x reader #vergil #dante #vampire #masquerade #leviathan-writes

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immortalcoelacanth · 4 years ago

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Brand New Animal (BNA) Oneshot: Nighttime Comforts

*points at Shirou and Michiru*

You see this? You see this found family dynamic? I crave fluff for it.

In other words, I’ve found another fandom I’ve fallen into! Also I apologize in advance if Shirou or Michiru’s characters aren’t 100% accurate. I did my best and rewatched some episodes but I’m not sure I fully got their dynamic down.

Word count: 2494

Summary: For as ready as Michiru was to move to Anima City and find a way to fix herself, she was in no way prepared to deal with how isolated she felt in this new place, especially at night.

Even with the faint ambiance of Anima City drifting in through the somewhat open window, Michiru was keenly aware of how oppressively silent the night felt. She was currently sprawled out on her back, eyes focused on the ceiling as she desperately tried to fall asleep. For as exhausting as her days had been, this was not the first time that Michiru had experienced this kind of insomnia.

The worries that filled her mind, both about her condition and what continuing to stay in this city would look like. Who knew what struggles she might face due to how she looked?

Michiru sighed and curled up, pressing her face against her pillow as she continued to think. She knew she was lucky to have a place to stay, to have met Gem and Melissa, and even Shirou despite how apathetic and detached the wolf beastman tended to be. They had helped her, been nice to her, but…

She tightly gripped the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut as she did her best to breathe through the wave of despair. This was not something new, this feeling of loneliness and isolation. It was what she had felt after changing into… this.

Into a beastman.

What was new was that she had achieved her goals, in a way. She had managed to reach Anima City and would, hopefully, uncover a way to fix what had been done to her. All things considered she should have been happy with this development, but for some reason she was just as sad as before.

If not more so because…

She was alone. She was alone and had to depend on beastman that she barely knew and anything could happen to her and-

Michiru hiccupped softly.

She missed her parents. She missed being able to go to school, she missed her sports, and-

She missed Nazuna.

It was stupid, so, so stupid to be this upset, especially after everything she had been through. She had already been sad about her transformation, she had already said her goodbyes to her parents, even if she had only left a letter. She had put all of that behind her and moved forward so she could fix her life!

She hated how weak feeling sad made her feel, hated how lonely she felt in this strange place. When the sun was up and the lights were bright, it was easy to forget the feelings that lurked in the back of her mind and throw herself into the activities of the day, working with Shirou and exploring some of the city, but when she was alone…

Well, currently it felt like she was always alone in a way.

No one understood what she had been going through, the struggle of trying to figure out where she fit in, how to fit in. Dealing with the beastman around her was challenging, and she felt so far from her previously human state.

Michiru was stuck somewhere in between.

Despite having a plan, she still felt lost and honestly had no clue what to do. To accept being like… this, or to fight even if her recovery seemed hopeless.

These dark thoughts always snuck up on her in the middle of the night, either invading her sleeping mind and causing her to dream of horrible things or forcing her to stay awake as she contemplated everything.

She knew it was not healthy to stay awake like this or to allow these thoughts to consume her. She had been able to push them aside in the past, and yet…

It felt like such a struggle when she was like this, like it was an impossible task to try and ignore the worry and anxiety that clouded her mind.

Even her strongest trait, her determined nature, could be swayed by these moments of despair and hopelessness.

She slowly exhaled, doing her best to let go of her pillow. After staying like this and just breathing, doing her best to calm herself down, she rolled over and continued looking back up at the ceiling.

A tear slowly rolled down her face, and she did not bother to wipe it off.

She lifted a hand into the air, staring at the limb and letting out a bitter chuckle. To be fair, she was a freak among beastman from the look of it. The weird stretching her arms had done was… unnatural.

She was unnatural.

She did not know what to do.

Her face twitched, a grimace taking over it as her arm dropped and she sat up. Hands gripping the mattress, she held this position for a couple seconds before slowly pushing herself upright, standing on shaky legs, and stumbling towards the window. When she was close enough, she shoved it so it was fully open, letting in the nighttime air.

Michiru sighed as she leaned against the windowsill. While the cool wind did help her calm down, gave her something to focus on, it only reminded her of the tears that were still somewhat staining her face.

She sniffled again and did her best to wipe them off, so caught up in her sorrows that she did not notice that she now had company. It was only when her hands lowered, face drier, that she realized who had joined her.

“Michiru.”

“Shirou!” She squawked in surprise, practically sounding like a bird as her head snapped to the side, eyes fixating on the man who was standing on the rooftop not too far away.

Who had apparently been standing on the rooftop for who knows how long.

The beastman was silent as he continued looking the tanuki over, as though he was searching for something. As the silence dragged on, Michiru was quick to voice her questions.

“What’re you still doing up? Why’re you on the roof? Did something happen? Is there-”

While the rapid-fire questions might have been somewhat annoying to Shirou under normal circumstances, he was far more focused on something else at the moment. The thing that had woken him up from his fitful rest.

The salty smell of tears.

He waited for Michiru to finish her rambling; eyes narrowed in a contemplative manner. As she finally fell silent, voice growing quieter and, strangely, losing the confidence that it typically radiated, Shirou spoke up.

“Why were you crying earlier?”

Wrong move.

Michiru was immediately on the defensive as she gawked at him, completely taken aback by his question, before slamming her hands down on the windowsill and glaring at the beastman.

“Hey! Who asks a question like that?! You don’t just-ask someone something like that! Or assume that kinda stuff! It’s rude, and-”

Shirou just continued to stare impassively, waiting for the tanuki to finish what in his mind was nothing more than a tantrum. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to get used to these outrageous shouting fits.

“Besides,” Michiru continued, crossing her arms and looking off to the side in annoyance. “What makes you think I was crying, huh?! What gave you that idea?!”

He squinted. Had she forgotten already…?

Fortunately, his clearly judgemental silence was enough to remind her of one key detail she had forgotten about him in her panic.

His sense of smell.

It was at that moment that she knew the game was over in a sense. He knew she was sad, could probably still tell based on the tears that had been staining the fur on her face, and it made her feel… ashamed.

She knew why she was sad, but at the same time she felt confused about it. Confused, and uncertain if she even had a right to be sad. It all felt so stupidly childish compared to all the things that had happened, how she had somewhat accepted her state of being a beastman.

… But at the same time, it was her identity. The thing that made her, her. And her place in the world that had been thrown into turmoil.

She was stronger than this, better than this, and yet…

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Michiru finally mumbled, not wanting to get into the mess that was her emotions. Her head dropped as she turned her attention towards the ground in order to avoid, what she assumed to be, his judgemental gaze. “It’s not important.”

Shirou could easily see that was a lie, and she knew he was smart enough to realize such a thing.

Please, don’t let him ask-

“Alright.”

She blinked in surprise and looked up at the beastman. “Wha-really? You’re not gonna…”

“No.” He shook his head. He did not see any point in continuing the topic, knowing it would only upset her further. At this point he had only one goal in mind.

Get her to rest so he did not have to deal with a sleep deprived Michiru in the morning.

Now it was time to work towards that goal.

Without warning, he crouched down and started to make his way through the window. Michiru quickly backed up, confused as to what he was doing, and she watched as he jumped down and landed beside her.

Her confusion continued to grow as she watched Shirou walk over to her bed, briefly looking it over before eventually taking a seat on it. He shuffled back so he could lean against the wall and then gestured for her to join him.

Um, what?

Uncertain as to what exactly he wanted, or what he was planning, she hesitantly made her way over to him. She repeated the process of sitting down and shuffling back so she was beside him.

It was kind of weird how quiet there were both being at this point. Well, Michiru’s silence was strange, but she honestly did not know what to say at the moment, and she was still confused as to what Shirou was doing-

She was snapped out of her thoughts when an arm landed on her shoulder, gently tugging her towards the beastman. Her eyes widened as she leaned against Shirou, stunned by this development. She remained tense and uncertain for a moment until the warmth of the body next to her began to spread to her.

Kind of like a heater.

Michiru let out a soft sigh as she slowly relaxed. Shirou was… surprisingly comfortable, soft even. Of course, there was a part of her that quietly pointed out how embarrassing this was, her essentially cuddling him, but the voice was quickly silenced.

Shirou had promised to protect her, help her get situated in Anima City, and this was just another way of doing that.

And it was something she could potentially use to embarrass him in the future…

As if sensing her mischievous train of thought, the beastman reached out and gently flicked the side of her head. She yelped and quickly covered the spot before looking up at him. “Hey! What was that for?!”

“Stop thinking so much and get some rest. You’re going to need it.” He passively replied. “We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

That’s right, work. Investigations into what had happened to her and the anti-beastman that were causing chaos throughout the city.

Something she could focus on, ground herself with.

Michiru shook her head in an attempt to disperse any lingering thoughts and leaned against Shirou, one of her hands unconsciously reaching up and holding onto his trench coat. She let out a yawn as she felt her eyes slowly begin to shut.

“Thank you…”

Though the words were slurred due to tanuki’s exhaustion, Shirou heard them loud and clear. He was still somewhat facing away from her, looking out of the window, but he did reach over and gently ruffled her hair.

Michiru let out an annoyed noise and pressed her head against his side, causing an unseen smile to appear on Shirou’s face before quickly vanishing. Slowly, her breathing evened out and the lingering tension in her form vanished.

It was at this moment that the beastman sighed in relief, quietly happy to see that his efforts had not been in vain. Now all he had to do was figure out how to escape her clutches…

Hours later, as the sun rose and Gem began to crow, Michiru woke up. She immediately noticed that Shirou had left at some point, leaving her all alone. Alone, except for the trench coat that had been placed over her while she slept.

Shirou...

She sat up and, after a moment of hesitation, she gently picked up the article of clothing and looked it over.

It still felt warm.

A smile crossed her face as she flopped back over onto her side, flicking the trench coat out so it was resting overtop of her once more. As she pressed the side of her face back into her pillow, eyes slowly shutting as she settled down once again, the warmth radiated by Shirou’s trench coat soothing her.

Helping her feel less alone.

Omake:

Shirou grumbled and muttered to himself as he struggled to break free of Michiru’s clutches. She just… refused to let go of his trench coat no matter what he did. Granted, he had done much and had only tried to gently pry her hands off the item, not wanting to risk accidentally hurting her.

It was annoying to deal with, but it was also… sad to see her clinging to him like this in her sleep. He knew she had been struggling to figure things out about herself, and he knew for a fact he would never truly be able to comprehend the strife she was going through, but at the same time he did know that level of anxiety and fear.

The fear of being changed, being treated as an outsider…

A sleepy noise from Michiru broke him out of his thoughts, and he looked down just in time to see her hug one of his arms as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

How could such a sleeping position be comfortable, he wondered to himself as he got to work on his next plan of escape. It seemed like sacrifices needed to be made, and in this case that sacrifice would have to be his trench coat. He could part with it for now.

After some calculated squirming and shifting, he was able to loosen her grip on his arm enough to slide it free, allowing her to hug the empty sleeve in her clutches. From there, Shirou slowly scooted away from the sleeping tanuki.

Freedom had been achieved, but he was not done just yet.

He got off the bed and stood up before leaning forward and carefully moved Michiru around, pausing occasionally so he did not accidentally wake her up. When he was finished with this task, she was lying down on her back, the trench coat covering her.

That would do.

Now certain that Michiru would be fine for the rest of the night, Shirou nodded to himself and left.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The found family dynamic is my jam if you couldn’t tell and I intend to write as much as I can before my muse dies while balancing all of my other active WIPs as best I can.

I hope you all enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

#my story #fanfiction #brand new animal #bna #michiru kagemori #shirou ogami #fluff #found family dynamic #comfort #michiru has a mild crisis #but shirou helps #a trench coat is stolen

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scream-into-the-voiddd · 4 years ago

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this looks like fun! [I can’t seem to find the og poster but i got it from @lizzaroona]

September 1st: Favourite s1 episode?

Honesty a super hard pick, and i think there are better episodes in the season but the one i go back too most often is ep 10 “The Sear of Selene”

It just has some of the best character moments (for me) and is truly funny and interesting. And has some real insight into Donald and Dewey’s feelings about Della and her being gone. we saw glimpse of this in ‘dime chase’ and ‘woo-woo/Atlantis’ but here we actually see the pain Della left in her wake. And what it means going forward.

Plus stokeulse is a big sweet boi and i love watching him and Donald ‘re-connecting’ speaking of witch it is also the frist time Scrooge and Donald have a form of re-connection to

“just like old times ah lad”

look at that face.

its a strong ep and lead the way for bigger ‘emotional hits’ down the line (the last crash of the sun chaser)

September 2nd: Favourite triplet?

I don’t really have one as they are all fleshed out and well rounded, that being said I am looking forward to more of Huey this season. But i don’t have a fav.

September 3rd: Favourite member of team magic

Webby, but i don’t know if that counts as she is main cast so i see her more often then any other Team Magic characters. The girl is fun and filled with so much love and she is to be feared. and I love her faults to she is awkward and hyper-fixated on Mcduck history to the point that its scary. and is a fun loving social shut in.

She is just so multifaceted and complex that i love her with all my heart.

September 4th: favourite three caballeros

I am bias on this one as i love José Oliveira (the og José) and anything involving that funky little parrot makes me happy. But in DT17 I do love that there is elements of that Og Jose in his characterisation

like in s2 ep 4

when he calls over and hugs Donald (so sweet), and that he knows how to claim Donald down so fast (by making him dance and then getting him to sing) and to my knowledge he is the only one to do this in the whole show not just once but twice, so it shows that he has a deep understanding of Donald that most just don’t, and i have always loved that about their friendship.

plus from what i can tell from that ep as well it was Jose’s idea to meet up and he planned the trip (as he payed for it) so the fact he made arraignments for Panchito, Donald and THE BOY’S (+ scrooge) shows how much Jose really loves his friends, and plays an umbrella as an trumpet.

September 5th: favourite ep of season 2

This was a hard one as most of the eps knock it out of the park, but i’m going to have to go with, ep 16 “the Duck Knight Returns” its just such a good ep and has so many wonderful layers to it, and i was actually caught of guard with the final Jim Starling twist. like i can’t even remember the lat time a twist hit me that hard (i got side swiped) I actually had to sit in silence for a solid minute or two and then watch the whole ep again.

they wasted no detail big or small in this ep (like that Jim was already wearing an unbuttoned DW suit and had the hat in the box next to him, or the sound drake made being thrown into the bathroom just like og DW, and the meta jokes and the animation, the whole ep just went so hard)

and it was a really fun way to ‘pass the torch’ from one actor to another, especially playing with the idea of someone just not being done with the character yet and not wanting to let go, (as a lot of audiences have that issue, with re-boots and relaunches, and especially when a version of a character has an unfinished story left, think Andrew Garfield’s spider-man for e.g.)

i could honesty talk forever about this ep but i’ll spare you all.

September 6th: favourite hug?

Honesty its a three way tie...

1) Scrooge and Della when she first comes home. Just they way he scoops her up like a kid and holds her tight, makes my heart full.

2) this one with Louie, just the mother son embrace was really earned here.

3) and this one with Jose and Donald, its rare we see Donald so happy to see anyone (who is not his family) and just how naturally he ran into his arms was so nice. And Jose dropping his umbrella right away show how he knew what was coming. Plus i am a big fan of men showing their love and friendship in sweet fun ways like this, so a win for non-toxic masculinity here.

September 7th Gizmoduck or Darkwing duck?

this is a hard one as i do like both of these hero boy’s and i have talked about how they have conflicting views of their own success through the other (basically, Drake has is personal life together, but Fenton has his hero life together, and i think it would be a point of envy for both characters) And I love Fenton and Drake for different reasons, but at their core they are somewhat the same just two people who want to help others for no other reason then it is the right thing to do.

And i Love what the show has done for both characters but...I will have to give it Drake by a fraction of a hair (feather?).

As unlike Fenton I only needed one ep to be 100% on board with Drake and i know everything i need to know about him from that. As DW had a whole ass show for a reason and that one ep showed it. As Fenton is a wonderful character and he is a very well done character, but one of his defining traits is that he is all over the place (like in his life, work, the way he specks ect) but that can get messy from time to time as it can be hard to be ‘on board’ with someone with no clear ‘goal’ persay (they did cover most of this in “who is Gizmoduck” but some of it still lingers now that can be a tiny bit jarring at times) But like that is SUPER Neat-picky, tho.

And Drake has that chaotic feral energy that Fenton just don’t have (Fenton has more Bi panic energy), but Drake also has tired dad energy (like how he growls at GD in moonvation and when he calls to LP before the set explodes) and i love that about him.

Get this man his Gosalyn already so he can be the dorky dad he is destined to be.

September 8th: Favourite duck cousin?

I’m going to have to go with Gladstone, because he is a HUGE prick, but in a way he is not fully aware of. He is generous (he literally offers the boy’s a bucket of diamonds, just because they came by)

And I love that half hazard nature about him, he is true neutral, things just happen to him and for him and he just takes it, and that is actually really interesting, (don’t get me wrong i love Fethry, Della and Donald) but Gladstone is such a wild card in the duck/mcduck family when compared to everyone else that its a nice change of pace from the rest in a way (all of them good hearted and well meaning people) I generally have no idea what he might do when presented with an actual problem/ choice, so to see that will be fun and this crews take on Gladstone in that regard.

As i think out of all the cousins he has the most growing/changing to do.

September 9th: favourite ship?

Ok here is the thing.

in general fandom

I don’t really have any strong feelings about most ships one way or the other. I think a lot are nice and I enjoy seeing others enjoy themselves and all the wonderful art and time they put into it. That being said out of all my years of being in fandoms I have had a grand total of 5-10 ships i am super passionate about and that is over the span of 10+ years.

and one of the things i love the most about ducktales is how much it focuses on family love and pure platonic friendships (for both kid and adult characters). And that makes my ace heart happy. So basically I’m saying is I have no strong feelings about most ships in general beyond “aww” or “man i love how much the fandom loves them” and “that is some great art/ fic / creative output I’m happy for them.”

But with that out of the way, the question at hand.

I’m going to have to go with Donald and Daisy, as from a writing sand point it was so well done and sweet and cute. And it gave a new perspective on a relationship that has been around for 70+ years, so that was impressive all on it’s own, and it is going to be a loving, interesting relationship going forward.

September 10th: Favourite season 3 episode

I am going to assume that this is out of the 7 eps so far (duh), which again is hard cause this show is just so damn good. But I would have to say it is ep 6 “Astro B.O.Y.D”

now cue story of me as a kid in 3...2...1...

when i was a kid, I was obsessed with Astro boy, i was maybe 6 years old and i loved it. I was a relatively poor kid so in the early/mid 2000′s i would get a lot of my reading/watching materials from my local library. This included 4 VSH tapes of Astro boy episodes for the 80′s series and i would watch the 2003 anime dub on Saturday mornings TV (one ep a week if that), The library also had the first 2 vols of the og manga that i read so many times that i could probably re-sight it from memory. anyway, the reason i love astro boy so much was because it gave me a feeling i had not felt in my young life before that point, even if i did not full understand it at the time.

Its a feeling i still can’t fully put into words, but i will do my best. Astro boy goes right for the heart in every way possible, but it always twist the knife when it goes for, grief, regret and longing agony. specifically when in looks at lost love, usually platonic love (Tobio and Tenma e.g), the feeling these story’s gave me was the complexity of pain that losing love can bring, but it is most effective because it is through the lens of a child (astro/ tobi) and an innocent, loving child at that. The child is (somewhat) untouched by the tragedy (via memory loss) but is still shaped by the love that was put into them, despite the grief's overall out come (the abandonment of said child). So the feeling is a bitter-sweetness that comes from a place of innocents but also personal understanding of the self Astro was made by Tenma, but he was not what tenma made him to be (his lost son) but astro became his own person who loves and is loved by others, and is a whole person on his own outside of what he was made for (and is in a way still A son to tenma just NOT Tobi). and there is that sense of a child just wanting to be heard and understood for who they ARE and not what others what them to be, regardless of their “potential” (in other words personal choice’s and passions that the child actually wants for themselves)

I just love Astro Boy ok...and i never get a chance to talk about it, so i thought i would here, as this list was foolish enough to give me an opening.

Moving on to the DT17 ep.

The Astro Boyd ep. hit all of these notes, the longing agony of lost love (Gyro and Boyd) the regret that came from Gyro for boyd’s creation.

Boyd’s innocents and loving nature coupled with his wants and identity not being fully understood (gyro thinking he is evil, Fenton wanting him to be a hero, Akita having him be a tool and Tesuka thinking he is just a mindless robot) and just wanting to be seen for what he truly is “a defiantly real boy” and he gets that conformation from Gyro at the end!

and Gyro has is own actualisation, about his own grief, after thinking his love was “misplace” for years on end in a way that made him shut down his heart almost completely. Only to find that he was right to let himself love and that love is actually what helped Boyd help himself. Gyro in essence realising that both him and Boyd are not mistakes or failures but two people who lost the one they loved (each other) and have finally found a way back to each other so they can both begin to fully heal.

So it was a good episode *wipes tear away from eye*

September 11th : favourite villain?

I don’t really have a favourite villain as the show don’t tend to focus to heavy on them and when they do it is somewhat short lived, (like Magica in season 1 and Lunarus in season 2) and since this season has a group of villains (FOWL) and not just one main one like the last 2 seasons, I have a feeling that one of the up coming FOWL members may take the top spot later down the line.

but if we are going off the one i find most entertaining...

I’m going to have to give it to

Magica she is played as scary, funny and damn relatable on occasion (the funzo scene), and i am never disappointed to see her. I think she is very different from comic magica in a lot of ways, but i enjoy this version for different reasons. And i think this magica has room to grow/ change (for good or for worst). So safe to say i am looking forward to the first ep in the line up.

September 12th : favourite character?

why must you make me choose...

seriously all of the characters major or minor is shown in a way that makes them feel very real and well rounded even if they have very little screen time. for god sake the ottoman empire guys get character development (one left the show to pursue acting and they fight with scrooge in the moonvation). So this is not an easy pick to say the least.

but I will be judging it by the one i ‘get the most out of’ so to speck....

and I have to say its a tie...

Donald Duck

I love him ok. He is very small and very angry and he will fight god(s) for his family safety. Anyway, I have always love Donald Duck shorts and everything else he shows up in he is always my fav.

I have always been able to relate to Donald as i too have a bit of a disability that makes it hard for people to understand be (in writing) and i have a ‘voice issue’ that makes me different from everyone around me. So i really understand the feeling Donald have and the anger that comes from being misunderstood in the most basic ways. Its not fun

So Donald has always been important to me in a sense,

The thing about Ducktales 2017 that i love is that it fleshes out Donald’s already established characteristics, by giving them context (e.g. using his outbursts to protect the boys). this gives him something that me has been missing (in animation) for awhile now, and that is how functions outside of himself.

what i mean by that is that Donald is kind of unique when it comes to the Disney sensational 6, unlike the rest is/ can be

-selfish

-cowardly

-rude/ mean spirited

-a loser

these things are what make him different to the rest but in animation for a while he has been shown by himself (without his family or even Daisy) so all of the above characteristics are not “diluted” or held to any standard outside of Donald’s personal misery.

So he can be super selfish and an all around ass cause, yeah, if your life was one pain after the other no matter what you did and you were all on your own all the time, then yeah, your going to be a miserable little shit.

But by reintroducing the boy’s and giving him a more defined role (father/ solo care giver) at least at the start of the show, it gives Donald a reason to “fight off” his less than noble parts of his personality. It also makes his action have more weight as everything he does or fails to do effects the boy’s. So that makes him more appealing overall as what he does (or doesn’t) do now matters, and all the tragedy in Donald’s life are also given weight (Della being gone for 10 yrs, and what that did to his relationship with Scrooge) so his pain is now REAL and even tho he is funny and reckless, he is now a person with flaws and failings but also victory's (getting Della back and his family being close again) and dreams (the three caballeros and his relationship with Daisy)

I do love this little Rage machine

the other fav is

Drake Mallard

(maybe I just like single duck dads? idk, lol)

I have already talked a bit about his intro ep,

but as of right now i am more in love with the potential i see in the character. As we have not really seen to much of him like maybe 4 ep’s total. But Drake is the character i am most hyped to see more of (and the people who are around him, Gos and LP etc.)

as i find him really interesting and he is (ironically) one of the more “normal” people in the show as a whole, He is not rich (high society rich anyway) he is not an explorer, not a scientist, he don’t have a ‘crazy’ backstory (like Gyro in Tokyok) and he doesn't have a direct connection to Scrooge himself (he never worked for him directly, and is not a family member)

so he is just a random guy, who thought “I’m going to do this crazy shit just because a handsome pilot man said i could if i wanted to”

and honestly that’s cool.

he is fun and goofy in an engendering way, and his ego is the right amount of controlled (ish) but still over the top. the character is full of story’s that can be taken from the og show and mixed in with the new show (like his intro ep),

Drake is a just fun to think about, and how his world relates to the world of ducktales in general, as they were separate for such a long time, so seeing it come together in a new way is super existing.

I was already blown away by his last solo ep I can’t wait to see more of him (and his how he will be with his Gos, and how that adventure will unfold)

September 13th Favorited actor/ actress

now this is just an unfair question, this is a star strutted cast and everyone is amazing. There is a pop culture icon and a Disney legend in the cast (and the fact your not 100% sure which one’s i’m talking about proves my point)

So i am going to cheat a little here, I’m not going off the actors and actress themselves per say but rather I’m going to talk about my favourite performance in the show.

I judge this on two things

1) how much the act ‘disappears’ into the character (as in i don’t see the human person when there talking, even if its still just their normal voice)

2) I can’t see (/hear) anyone else being able to do the role

So on those two things in mind i will have to go with.

Paget Brewster

she just plays Della with this fun life to her, she can switch on a dime from crazy adventurer to comic foil to herself and then have moments of deep self refection. And she had to carry the introduction to the character all on her own, as Della was isolated, so if she didn’t sell Della to us (the audience) then the whole mystery/ build up to Della would have fallen apart. So that was not easy but she pulled it off (with great writing as well).

and she was/is amazing as Della, she is just awesome and I love listening to her and how she plays Della.

September 14th Favourite song

Oh for me it hands down has to be “not good enough” I love a good Bond ballad and Ben kills it. Plus it plays a big part in the episodes theme’s for LP,

youtube

its perfect, it fits the story, character and the parody.

September 15th: Favourite scene from favourite episode.

well out of my top 3 episode (that i have already listed) I’m going to not talk about ‘the dark duck returns’ as there is a scene in there that i will talk about later. my favourite scene out of the other 2 episodes i have picked, i would have to go with...

The ‘Defiantly real boy’ scene from Astro BOYD

(i have already talked about my love for Astro boy and this ep in relation to that) what i love the most about this scene is that not only did Gyro and Boyd ‘find’ each other again, but they found themselves again.

youtube

Boyd turned back into the real boy Gyro ‘made’ him to be (the boy Gyro always believed he was/could be) and that not only was that ok, but the best way for Boyd be himself. Thus his reclaiming of the word Boyd, he is still ‘the same’ but now has a clear sense of what it actually means to himself, mixing both 2BO and Boyd into one. With the love given to 2BO by Gyro and the life experience he has had as Boyd, so Boyd didn’t have to change everything about himself to be complete he just needed to understand that he was loved for being himself and to get confirmation that he is what he believes himself to be a ”Defiantly real boy” (T-T)

as for Gyro, he realised that his love, care and idealism (as he put it) was not misplaced (on Boyd), as when the little boy he loved so fully seemingly turn on him, that broke his heart and his spirit in a way that just would not fully mend. (thus his cold and rude behaviour through out the show so far...) But when Gyro fully embraces his idealism and loving side again (by embracing Boyd) he realises that he can bring his true feeling to the surface again as it was never a mistake for him to do so. thus why he embraces Fenton as an equal, by calling him Doctor and showing the respect he actually always felt for Fenton.

They found themselves through each other, and it melts my heart (T-T)

September 16th: Favourite moonlander

Penny.

September 17th: Favourite Beagle Boy

Black arts Beagle,

I mean he is the reason we have Duckworth back so thats got to count for something.

September 18th: Favourite scene of your favourite ship

I have to say its this little moment here...

youtube

Donald spent the whole episode wanting to impress this woman (Glamor), but after spending time with Daisy decided that Daisy’s dignity was more important then his Big Break. And Daisy returns in kind like ‘yeah i shouldn’t be treated this way’ and its just really sweet. It also got Daisy noticed and most likely jumb started her career and Daisy (again) returned in kind (most likely) by having the three Caballeros perform on stage right after.

so its a small but very insight look into the new dynamic Donald and Daisy are going to/ do have in this show.

[plus this screen shot was funny to me,

i think it has meme template vibes]

September 19th: Favourite scene of your favourite character.

oh my, where oh where to take this?

every character in this show is so good so this is just hard man....

but I will go with “The Duck Knight returns” one of my favs, and honesty i could talk about this episode all on its own (and I just might after “Lets Get Dangerous” airs) but for me one of the scenes that really stuck out to me (that others have not really touched on) Is when they have the “meeting” with Alister, Jim, Scrooge and Dewey and then Drake comes in (and then immediately gets his shit wrecked by Jim).

As a film student, I feel this scene on a personal level.

the old(er) man who knows nothing but wants to take control.

the Pretentious “artist” that thinks “making it dark” makes it meaningful.

the person who pretends they know what there talking about but is to stuck in their ways to really change their mind.

and a child or child like understanding (its more common then you think)

(tho i would place LP in the audience position, which is the point of this scene) This scene hit me where I live, and is a really good commentary on Corporate meddling. As there are three ‘battles’ happening in this scene

1) Scrooge Vs Alistair

this acts as a money vs art argument, that is seen all to often in movies and shows, as I can guess we can all name at least one movie or show that has the “the record studio is changing your sound its not authentic...”

but Dt 2017 shows the other side to this and asks

authentic to what? like its one things when its your own creation but what if its was someone else's (like a reboot)

is it better to be authentic to what was before (the og material), or is it best to take a new direction because its more ‘comfortable’ for you to do (fits your style / sensibility's)

thus leading to

2) LP Vs Dewey

or a young audience vs the older audience, now Dewey and LP don’t really clash in this ep per say but, they act as a more “aggressive” views on audience backlash now they are Not Malicious but they do act as conflicting presences. Dewey (understandably) doesn’t get why it has to be dark and gritty, or what was happening at all as Alistair is going for a high concept film, but guess what, kids aren’t always great at picking high concepts up (at least not right away) and they can be easily bored by it, if its not engaging in a way that can appeal to them.

and LP as an older audience member does know what the show/ movie is “meant to be” so seeing these high concepts added in a way that is not in the sprit of og material can be unnerving. And high concepts can miss the point or main message/style of the og material to the point that unrecognisable (*cough*Live action, Titians *cough*).

both of these points are legitimate concerns for audiences to have, as if something is so different its not unrecognisable then why not just make something original? and not draw a comparison.

and if your main audience is meant to be younger, they how are you going to engage them in way that matters to them or in a way they can understand (youth culture or ‘young truths’ i.e. things kids deal with/experience when growing up)

speaking of which

3) Jim Vs Drake

this one is kind of the mix of the pervious two, or nostalgia vs update? (i can’t think of a better word),

Jim is so determined to be in the spot light that he is willing to ‘throw away’ is morals (as seen at the end), his ‘artist integrity’ no longer matters as long as DW gets to come back, he just wants some sense of being back that it doesn’t actually matter how (*cough* Teen Titians Go*cough*), so he losses a big part of what made it DW to begin with and not because he don’t care about DW but because he places his value of it in one spot (himself as darkwing)

as Drake on the other hand. understands that changes need to be made but he knows the movie is off base (he says so himself later), but he puts the value of DW in more then himself, as he has felt it be bigger then what was just on screen (Jim) and has carried that with him here. And since he is set up as an ‘enemy’ here (Jim jumps him) new is seen as an enemy as well, but he literal gets attached for just existing, so yeah not a great move by Jimbo there, and due to nostalgia (both in and out of the show due Jim starling/cummings) most may not of have pick up on it right away.

so yeah, this is an underrated scene and i wanted to talk about it a little as it sets up the rest of the episode.

September 20th: Favourite friend group

hmmm....

I have a feeling that this is going to change after the new wave of episodes (i like how team hero is shaping up) but for now i will have to say team science. They just have a nice balance of personalities and ability's, plus they the most team (ish) as they literally have to work together (most of them)

huey, gyro, fenton, manny and lil bulb

and all have their own style and smarts

Manny and Lil blub don’t even talk but they have big personalities and now with the addition of Boyd this little group feels well rounded.

I love them nerds

#ducktales #dt17 #ducktales 2017 #text #gladstone gander #darkwing duck #drake mallard #Donald duck #jose carioca #webby vanderquack #will edit as i go #gyro gearloose #boyd gearloose #daisy duck #magica de spell #della duck #jim starling

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taexual · 4 years ago

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (12)

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: jealous & possessive!jungkook vs. reader who won’t take his shit

words: 8.8k (whoops)

chapter twelve

Your roommate refused to hide her surprise when you told her you were going to the Parental Advisory party with Jungkook. She couldn’t come with the two of you because she was going to visit her parents this weekend, but the disappointment of missing the party did not overshadow her excitement about you going there with Jungkook.

“Don’t blow this out of proportion,” you pleaded – for the three-hundredth time that evening – unable to relate to her joy. “We won’t be there long, so it doesn’t—”

“It’s your first public date,” Inna spoke—very ceremoniously—as she dug around your closet, convinced that her duty as your roommate was to choose an outfit for you, even if she was the only person – aside from you and Jungkook – who knew that this was all pretend. “Everyone will have their jaws on the floor when they see you arrive together anyway, but a good outfit might just make you feel less self-conscious.”

You had many objections but, knowing that Inna was running short on time before her bus arrived, you chose to only argue about the things that you could have changed her mind about.

“I don’t think it matters what I wear,” you said, your arms crossed over your chest as you watched the several pairs of tights and sweatpants fly out of the closet in reckless abandon as Inna looked for a gold mine. “I’m going to be uncomfortable anyway.”

You couldn’t see her when she had her head in the pile of your clothes, but her voice made the smirk on her lips obvious, “I’m sure he will find a way to make you feel more comfortable there.”

“We’ll only stay there for a little bit,” you said. “We were supposed to return here later. Although, I’m not sure if that’s still happening.”

“Oh!” Inna jumped up, momentarily forgetting about her stylist career. She wasn’t just smirking anymore, she was full-on grinning now, teeth and all. “So, you’ll be coming back to your place later? That calls for a whole different outfit.”

You didn’t realize what she was implying right away.

“We—what do you—oh,” you said, her words hitting you with a wave of hotness that forced your hands to guard your flushed face from her. “Inna, no. You know I don’t like those parties, we just agreed to go there for a little bit, and then watch a movie or something back here.”

“Right, of course,” she nodded and you thought she was relenting but, really, you should have known better as she teased, “that’s why they call it Netflix and Chill, babe.”

“I know you can’t see my eyes,” you said, your hands still on your face, “but I’m glaring at you right now.”

“Here,” she said, picking up a black off-the-shoulder blouse and a velvet burgundy mini skirt – you’d bought them both when you and Inna had lunch at the mall on your first weekend on campus and you hadn’t worn the outfit once – and tossing it for you right as you peeked at her through the gaps between your fingers. The blouse hit you in the chest but you caught it before it fell to the floor. “Now is the perfect time to wear this.”

She didn’t hide the offense in her voice – she was the one who had picked the skirt out for you – as she was evidently still bitter that you’d never even tried it on, aside from that one time in the changing room.

“I thought I’d just go in a sweater,” you said – which was very bold, considering that Inna looked ready to tackle you for wasting her time – and then lamely tried to explain your reasoning, “it’s chilly today.”

“You’ll wear that,” she ordered with an aggressive nod at the clothes in your hands, “and if you’re cold, you’ll ask Jungkook for his jacket.”

“What if he doesn’t wear a jacket?”

“Then you’ll ask for his shirt,” she said and smiled at her own impressive wit. “A win-win situation, really.”

You were going to protest again and Inna knew it, too, so, before you could even open your mouth, she closed the door of your closet – as much as the haphazardly thrown clothes allowed it to close – and stood facing you, her arms crossed and legs parted in a threatening manner.

“Put it on,” she demanded. “I will not leave until I know you’re going to that party in something that’s not sweats. If I miss my bus, it’s on you.”

Inna did not miss her bus – but barely, as she jumped around your dorm for ten minutes straight, in awe over how perfectly the skirt she’d picked out fit you and how “fascinating” (that one’s a direct quote) it made your legs look – and, then, before you knew it, you were waiting for Jungkook to come pick you up all by yourself.

You felt nervous. Granted, you’d felt somewhat worried the whole day today – which wasn’t very unusual, you liked to get your worrying started in advance – but, with Inna here, you’d held yourself together. Now your hands shook—trembled, really—as you sprayed some perfume on your wrists before rubbing them together.

Many things about tonight bothered you: you didn’t want to put up an act for half of the campus – especially not for the people who cared about Jungkook so much, they screeched and ran in the opposite direction when he crashed his car – and you also didn’t want to have to deal with whatever consequences the combination of alcohol and Jungkook would bring.

The first time you saw him drunk, he drove into a pole. The second time – he went home with a different girl, nevermind that he may have been looking for you. You were afraid that the third time could have been the charm – one last hurrah before something finally put an end to your friendship.

But most of all, you were afraid of you and him being there together, because your last conversation hadn’t exactly gone smoothly and now you didn’t know what to expect.

At first, you were almost looking forward to tonight as much as Inna was, especially since Jungkook was ready to leave the party early so you could spend some time together in a place where you felt more comfortable. But then he seemed to take all of his words back with one single phrase.

The only thing that “really mattered” about you and him, was that his parents believed you were together.

You always considered the worst case scenarios – just to prepare yourself – but they seemed limitless tonight as you weren’t sure what to make of his words and which side of him to prepare for: the side that did want to spend time with you and wasn’t afraid to say so, or the other side.

But you wouldn’t have had the time to prepare for tonight even if you did know what to expect; Jungkook -- and all of his sides -- was already here.

When the knock came, you needed at least half a minute to calm your breathing before you finally felt collected enough to open the door.

“Hey,” Jungkook said as soon as he heard the lock turn, sounding out of breath as if he’d ran all the way up the stairs. “Your RA—not a very nice guy—didn’t want me to come in—had to—”

“You ran away from him?” you asked, opening the door properly so he could come inside before the RA came running after him. However, with the door fully open, your outfit was suddenly in full-view for Jungkook and he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“I—oh, you look really, uh, g-great,” he said, lifting his eyes back to your face – as if to check if this was really you – before sliding them down your body again in a way that you’ve never seen him do before. It didn’t mean that he’d never checked you out before – because, oh, he had – you were just never aware of it. “The dark colors go really well with—well, everything.”

“Thanks,” you said, crossing your arms as you moved to a side. You wanted to give him a compliment in return but could not find the words because the black cargo pants and the ripped jean jacket he’d worn tonight was not much different from any other outfit he’d worn before, and yet, you still hard a hard time looking away. “Come in while I grab my bag.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course,” he slipped inside, eyes still on you – his feet tripping over the threshold just slightly – as he closed the door after himself.

You walked over to your bed to grab your phone with the intention of putting it in the handbag that you had thrown over the open door of your bedroom. But when you turned around, phone in hand, Jungkook was standing right in front of you and your nose almost smashed right into his chest.

“Oh,” you blinked, the close proximity nearly throwing you off balance and Jungkook’s hands were already reaching for your waist to steady you on your feet.

You swore you would have suffocated if he’d touched you right then but he realized he’d entered your personal space as soon as he felt your shaky breath wash off on his own face.

In his defense, he’d only walked so near because the smell of your perfume pulled him in – he didn’t mean to cross any boundaries – but, standing so close, he could see the alarm in your eyes. Clearing his throat, he took a step back and gave you an encouraging smile as you slowly walked past him.

He tried not to think of the expression on your face – wary, yet expectant – when you saw how close he was, but he was glad you lingered by the door as you checked the contents of your bag.

“Ready to go?” he asked as soon as you clicked the lock on the handbag and turned around.

You were not ready to go because even though he stood several feet away from you now, his presence still lingered all around you and you could still smell his cologne. You could almost taste the mint strawberry gum he always kept in his car.

Your head was swimming with the feeling of him.

You’d been afraid of tonight and yet you hadn’t realized just how challenging it was really going to be.

“Yeah, we can go,” you said, not pausing to give him a look as you opened the door and waited for him to follow you out of the room. “If the RA hasn’t called the police yet.”

“Ah, shit. He’d do that?” Jungkook asked, more curious than worried about getting fined for being here without an entrance pass – he couldn’t really bring himself to care because it all seemed worth it.

You stopped in the hallway as you closed the door. Surprisingly, your hands had stopped shaking – it was your heart that was restless now.

“He’s done it before,” you said, fumbling with the lock. “But, in that case, we had a squatter and he’d just discovered her three months after she moved in, so he was understandably angry.”

“Well, I haven’t moved in yet,” Jungkook said carelessly, not realizing how your heart decided to skip a beat at the word yet. “And, not to mention, I’ve been here before and he’s never stopped me from coming up.”

“He would have if he knew how much time you wasted sitting in this hallway,” you said, double-checking if the door was really locked and then joining him on the way to the elevator.

Jungkook stuffed his hands into his pockets after he pressed the elevator button.

“I didn’t waste time,” he said. “I was waiting for you.”

The elevator door opened. Your chest did too as your heart rose to your throat.

“I-I mean, you could have waited at home,” you said, walking into the cabin before him and leaning against the mirror. The mixed signals he was sending you made you dizzy.

“You weren’t answering my calls,” he reminded you, pressing the ‘L’ on the dashboard and sheepishly glancing at your reflection. “And, in any case, doesn’t he know who I am?”

You raised your eyebrows at the arrogant expression on his face. Jungkook noticed your look but proceeded anyway.

“No one else has this problem,” he said, “I’m welcome everywhere.”

“You’re making tonight very difficult for me,” you told him.

“What? I’m not trying to show off,” he said, showing off. “I’m just saying.”

You chose not to play his game anymore as you shook your head and hypothesized, “maybe he’s just worried about how often he sees you here. I can talk to him.”

“Good. Because he’s going to have to get used to the blessing that is me,” Jungkook said, extending a hand for you when the two of you stepped out of the elevator in the lobby, the RA nowhere in sight, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You weren’t certain what he expected you to do – surely he didn’t mean for you to hold his hand right now, before you even got to the party? – so you watched his palm for several moments, involuntarily tracing the branches on it with your eyes.

“Well, come on,” he encouraged, taking your hand himself when it became clear that you weren’t going to do anything. “I parked my car out front. And before you say anything – yes, I do know that parking here is for residents only. If anyone asks, I live here.”

“I—” your mind was still listening to him say he wasn’t going anywhere, so it took you a few moments to find your next words and, in that time, Jungkook had already guided you out of the lobby and into the crisp evening.

“I’m pretty sure everyone knows where you live,” you said.

A smirk appeared on his lips but, this time, Jungkook chose not to gloat (too much) about the fact that he was a Parental Advisory member.

“Not your RA,” he countered instead, pressing a button on his car key. A pleasant click informed you that the car had unlocked. “He looked like he’s never listened to anything that’s not Verdi.”

“He actually plays a lot of Liszt in our second-floor lounge room,” you said. “There’s a piano there.”

“That just proves my point, if anything,” Jungkook stopped in front of his car and opened the passenger door for you, casually leaning against the vehicle while he waited for you to climb inside – it was almost unbelievable how easily he managed to act like all was normal.

In all truth, Jungkook found his laid-back attitude hard to believe as well because, inside of his chest, there were hundreds of explosions happening – thousands, actually, when the evening breeze lifted your skirt higher up your thighs – and only half of them were caused by the way you looked tonight. The other half were the result of holding your hand.

“Alright,” he said after having circled the car to enter it through the driver’s side. “Keep me updated on your mood so I know when you want to go home, yeah?”

“I—” you started to say, wanting to let him know that he didn’t have to worry about taking you home, but Jungkook beat you to it.

“If you say you want to go right now, I swear—”

“No, I was just—well, actually…” you looked at him with glitter in your eyes – and if you’d really meant it, he would have taken you home right then and there – and a teasing smile. “No, I was going to say that I don’t want you to feel pressured to leave with me. I promise to stay for a little bit, but you can stay for however long you—”

“I only want to stay for as long as you’re staying,” he said and you thanked the God that the sound of the car engine coming to life drowned out the loud beats of your heart. “We agreed to get back to your place and hang out there, didn’t we?”

“We did. But then—”

“Did you change your mind?” he asked with a quick glance at you before he turned to the rear-view mirror to back out of the parking lot. “Do you not want to spend time with me anymore?”

It was absurd that he was the one asking you this.

“I do want to spend time with you,” you said.

“Well, I should hope so,” he replied, the arrogant smirk now back on his lips again. “I doubt there are better alternatives than me on this campus.”

“Probably not,” you said, rolling your eyes, and then biting, “but only because Inna left to go home tonight.”

Jungkook would have let you know how this wounded his impossibly huge ego if his mind hadn’t drifted elsewhere as soon as you said this.

“Oh,” he spoke, turning out of the parking lot and into the street. “So you have the place all to yourself, huh?”

You raised your eyebrows when you turned to look at him. “You could not have sounded more like a typical college boy as you said this.”

Jungkook smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I am a typical college boy.”

You smirked. “I thought you were only one of a kind.”

He gave you a proud look – completely ignoring the mocking undertones in your voice – before returning his eyes to the road as he drove towards his house.

“I am, of course,” he said. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

Much to your – and Jungkook’s – surprise, the party ended up not being so bad, after all. Initially, you thought you’d have to come up with a way to leave after an hour, but several hours have passed now, and you had to admit, you were genuinely enjoying yourself here.

At the beginning, you couldn’t quite get comfortable – all because you could feel everyone’s stares on the two of you when you arrived hand-in-hand – but when you finished a few drinks, the people in the room no longer seemed as strange and threatening.

Jungkook helped you ease your discomfort by refusing to leave you alone – and making his close presence seem so casual, it was as if his parents were, indeed, here, watching you two play a relationship – but even when you finally convinced him to find his bandmates and say hi to them, you still didn’t feel too out-of-place.

You felt relaxed, actually. Excited. And maybe a little irrational or else you wouldn’t have found yourself on the couch next to Brock – the well-known social climber, dead-set on beating Jungkook in terms of campus popularity – discussing your plans for the summer.

“I want to spend at least a few weeks at home with my family,” you were telling him as you toyed with the edges of your third—or was it fourth?—drink tonight, “but only if I pass all of my finals at the top of the class. Or else I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“They’re that hard on you, huh?” Brock nodded knowingly – for someone who seemed so shallow when you first heard about him, he sure had a lot of empathy – and took a sip of his own drink.

“They’re alright,” you said, swallowing the remaining alcohol in your cup. “Although my roommate thinks they’re robots.”

“Oh, your roommate has met them?” he asked.

“I brought her over once,” you explained. “I do that with friends, usually, but only if we’re really close. Most people don’t handle the judgmental looks on my parents’ faces too well.”

“I see,” Brock said but only to win himself more time to find the right way to ask you this, “so, uh, has Jungkook met them?”

“My parents?” you asked. And then, not thinking about it, added, “of course. He met them a long time ago.”

Brock raised his eyebrows in evident surprise. It dawned on you then – albeit slowly – that he didn’t know how long you and Jungkook knew each other. Actually, probably no one at this party knew – you spent the majority of your time at university pretending Jungkook didn’t exist.

“So, you’ve been together for a while then?” Brock questioned.

His eyes didn’t give it away but you were sober enough to understand how this could have been a trick question: Jungkook was probably sleeping around with other girls before you started to talk again, so defining a clear timeline of your relationship was crucial or else you were going to fall down the spiral of “cheating” rumors.

“Uh… no,” you said, choosing to play dumb. “Not very long.”

“So, he met your parents before you started dating?”

“Yeah. My dad’s a teacher,” you said, which was the truth, so you didn’t completely lie, and Brock’s lips parted. You could almost see the puzzle pieces click together in his brain.

“Oh, I would not want to spend the summer with my parents if one of them was a teacher,” he said with a chuckle. You gave him a tell-me-about-it-look and scanned the room for another drink. “Are you going to be on campus during the rest of the summer?”

“Uh, probably, yeah,” you said. “I’d like to get an internship somewhere close, so I could live at the dorm.”

“Busy girl,” Brock said in a way that sounded more condescending than affectionate. His company no longer seemed so pleasant – you definitely needed another drink – but he didn’t seem to pick up on your emotions, “I know that Jungkook is probably going to be on campus as well but, um,” he scooted closer to you on the couch – just a little but enough for his knee to touch yours, “if he’s away, I could maybe show you—”

You didn’t hear what was it that he was going to show you because someone landed on the armrest of the couch right behind you. The smell of alcohol was the first thing you registered, but then you picked up the scent of the cologne, too, and you didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Jungkook.

“I’m back,” he spoke into your ear – whispered, actually -- sending an excited shiver down your spine. “I brought you something to try. It’s—”

It was a drink. Finally.

“Thanks,” you cut him off, not really thinking much of the pale green liquid in the half-empty shot glass and downing it all in one go. You frowned when the drink reached your throat, going down with a fiery resistance.

Jungkook noticed your grimace as you swallowed. He placed a protective hand on your back – and then shot Brock a warning look which prompted the boy to return to his previous spot on the other end of the couch – as you coughed, not really enjoying the anise-flavored travesty he’d brought you.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked, concerned.

“Mmhmm,” you replied, your esophagus still burning, “n-not a fan of absinthe. Have you been—” you paused to inhale through your mouth, cherishing every bit of cold air, “—drinking this the whole night?”

“Yeah, he basically drinks that shit raw,” Brock answered instead, somehow happy to see Jungkook bring you this much discomfort. “And it still takes him a while to get drunk.”

“I haven’t been,” Jungkook answered your question, deliberately ignoring everything the other boy had just said. “Taehyung broke out a bottle he’d brought back from France. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” you replied, inhaling a few more times and then clearing your throat for good measure. “It just took me off-guard, that’s all—”

You ended up not finding the end of your sentence as Jungkook slid down the armrest and landed on the couch next to you, his arms sneaking around your waist as he pulled your body closer to his. Your heart would have most likely stopped if the shot of absinthe hadn’t released all this adrenaline into your bloodstream.

“I’m sorry,” he said into your hair – the close proximity and the quiet tone of his voice had quickly cut off all signals from the synapses inside your brain – and cuddled into you until he found a more comfortable position. “I would have warmed—warned you if you’d have given me a chance.”

He was obviously drunk and tongue-tied – but that was nothing new. What was new, however, was this affection, as he held on to you as if you were both stranded on a stray piece of wood in the ocean and he was afraid you were going to slide off into the water and die.

“T-that’s okay,” you said with a nervous chuckle, figuring that he was only doing this to prove a point that you were dating. But no one seemed to care; this far into the party, everyone was either making out with someone or dancing their lives away – except for Brock who was actively trying not to look at you two.

“Hmm,” Jungkook exhaled slowly for no reason other than to see the skin on the nape of your neck shiver from his breath. He wasn’t drunk enough to miss the effect he had on you, but he was far too drunk to be able to hold himself back from deliberately affecting you this way.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” you asked, not uncomfortable in his arms per se, but certainly tense – even more so when you finally concluded that he was holding you like this specifically because Brock was here.

“Not much,” Jungkook replied, still as quiet as before. He shot the boy across the couch a glance so full of spite, you would have believed him to be completely sober if you’d seen him do it.

Brock only rolled his eyes in response, ready to say something to you but instead, he was forced to watch you strain your neck as you tried to look at Jungkook, his grip on your waist not loosening.

“Really? Because you seem really drunk,” you told Jungkook, your voice no longer passive.

He snickered – you felt his abdomen muscles move against your back as he did – and, purposefully staring right Brock in the eyes, he said, “I’m only drunk on you.”

If he wanted to see you squirm, he would have succeeded, but his grip on you was too tight for you to move. Pressing your lips together, you touched his knee with your hand in a warning manner. You didn’t like being caught in the middle of a purposeless war of masculinity.

“Maybe it’s time we left, then,” you suggested. He worshiped the disappointment that appeared on Brock’s face after you said this.

“Yeah?” Jungkook asked – but he didn’t have to, he was just trying to win some more time to hold you close to him like this – and then, slowly unwrapping his arms from your waist, he said, “I’ll run to say bye to the guys, okay? It’ll only be one second. Meet you by the door?”

“Sure, yeah. Take your time. I’ll stop by the bathroom before we go,” you said, craving some cold water on your face – and not just because of the lingering fire in your throat – as Jungkook released you and stood up, leaving an unnaturally cold sensation behind you, where his body had been.

He walked off quickly, his grin only widening when he glanced at you over his shoulder and saw you stand up and walk away from the couch without saying a word to Brock.

What Jungkook didn’t see, however, was how -- as soon as he rounded the corner to enter the kitchen where his bandmates were searching for sugar cubes for their ridiculous absinthe ritual -- Brock leaped from his seat and grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking away.

“Hey,” he said, pulling away when he felt you flinch in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—uh, you headed home, then?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking your hand back and hiding it behind your back in defense. “It was nice talking to you.”

“It really was!” he said, a little too enthusiastically. “Which is why I was wondering if you were free anytime soon. So we could talk again, maybe? I just don’t want this to be the only time I get to hang out with you. I felt like we had a real connection. You know?”

You didn’t. You thought he wasn’t a terrible person to talk to, but you could only tolerate him in small doses.

“Mmhmm. Well, we live on the same campus,” you said, trying to smile politely as you made your way towards the bathroom. Much to your disappointment – and horror – Brock fell into step with you. “I’m sure we will, uh, see each other around.”

“Yeah? Where do you usually hang out? When you’re not with Jungkook, I mean.”

As far away from you as possible, was going to be your answer if he wasn’t going to let you walk away from him.

“Everywhere,” you said and then decided to make yourself sound less available, “or nowhere, actually. I prefer to stay home. With my roommate.”

“I like to stay home, too,” he said. You doubted that very much – unless staying home meant throwing parties at the million-dollar mansion that his parents had purchased for him. “You think we could do that together some time?”

You could distinctly recall the way your heart sped up when Jungkook suggested nearly the same thing one time. Brock’s words seemed to have a completely opposite effect on you, however, as you desperately looked for a way out of the situation and were almost prepared to use the golden I-have-a-boyfriend excuse – which could have been true for all that Brock knew – when he spoke again.

“Just you and me,” he clarified. “You could text me when Jungkook is away.”

Now, if only he could have survived five seconds without bringing Jungkook up – further proving to you that this was all about Brock showing everyone that he was better – maybe you would have stopped and considered this – although you doubted that, too – but now you didn’t even hesitate before you clicked your tongue.

“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” you asked.

He clearly didn’t as he retorted, “why?”

“Because this is something that you wouldn’t suggest if he was here,” you explained. “And I don’t really want to go behind his back and plan some secret tête-à-têtes.”

You gave him a smile – instead of saying goodbye – and were already reaching for the handle of the bathroom door when he grabbed your hand again. This time, when you turned to look at him, you didn’t bother to hide the irritation in your eyes.

“You misunderstand me,” Brock said, very matter-of-fact but still wary as he let go of your hand. Good. You were going to need it when you inevitably smacked him across the face. “I’m not implying anything. I just genuinely liked talking to you and would like to do it again without anyone bothering us. If you don’t think Jungkook’s going to allow you to see me, I can talk to him about—”

“No,” you said sharply. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. It’s my decision. And I said no.”

Brock watched your eyes for a moment, intrigued by how strict they looked.

“Okay,” he said then. “Got it.”

You nodded and, almost tripping over your own feet in your hurry, you finally tore yourself away from the party by entering the bathroom and locking the door.

Alone at last, you exhaled and walked over to the sink, choosing not to look at your reflection in the mirror out of fear of dissociating even more – you already felt disoriented enough.

Washing your hands with cold water and then dabbing wet fingertips under your eyes and down the sides of your face felt refreshing, but it wasn’t enough to stop your heart from working overtime – courtesy of Jungkook and Brock, and their passive-aggressive battle to show the other one who was better.

You weren’t sure what you were more frustrated with: the fact that Jungkook’s touch affected you so much or the fact that he only seemed to touch you to show off to Brock. Obviously, you’d come here to establish your relationship in front of your peers but, considering that Jungkook tried to treat this whole thing as a sort of business deal, only worrying about his parents’ opinion, his actions tonight seemed over the top.

Not to mention, you could have handled Brock yourself. He was the first person who talked to you at this party and he probably only did because he’d seen you arrive with Jungkook, and, just like with everything else, he was determined to replace him. Naturally, Jungkook -- never one to back down from a challenge -- wanted to put Brock in his place.

This really irked you – you liked to be in charge of your own life and hated having to rely on others to do things for you. Jungkook should have known that.

But although you were irritated, you didn’t feel like starting an argument and then potentially having to deal with dead bodies. However, right after you decided to leave the party quietly, your mythical sixth sense picked up a bad vibe and your stomach dropped – all just a second before you heard deep grunts of struggle from behind the door of the bathroom.

For just a split second, you hoped that this commotion didn’t involve Jungkook but all of that hope vanished when one of the voices yelled, “who the fuck do you think you are?” and you recognized the undeniable tenor of your childhood friend.

Cursing under your breath, you shut the water off and, not even bothering to find a towel, walked out of the room with your hands still dripping.

You felt hopeful yet again when you saw the almost empty living room – maybe they stopped fighting – but that hope disappeared soon enough, too, when a tirade of cuss words reached you from the kitchen, followed by the sound of skin slapping against skin, muscle against muscle.

Following the sound, you clenched your hands into fists and tried to brace yourself for whatever you were about to witness. And, just like you expected, a group of spectators – always thirsty for some violence – was watching Jungkook hold Brock by the collar of his shirt.

Brock – who was obviously enjoying the attention of the whole party – snarled something that provoked Jungkook to throw another punch to the side of his face. Brock’s whole head twisted to a side and, roughly pushing Jungkook off of himself until his back hit the fridge, Brock spat the blood out onto the kitchen floor.

“Jungkook!” you called out before they turned this whole house into a boxing ring. He heard you – his eyes drifted to the group of people watching him – but he couldn’t see you through the crowd.

Cursing again, you tried to push past the people even if it involved losing sight of the two boys – you could hear the fight carry on as they slammed each other against furniture – until you finally reached the kitchen island and saw Jungkook carelessly hurl Brock on top of it, his head nearly hitting the marble tabletop.

“Jungkook, for fuck’s sake,” you snapped.

It was hard to say if he heard you this time, because one of Brock’s hands broke free and roughly pushed Jungkook’s chest. The boy stumbled backwards, hitting the cupboard behind him with a loud groan as empty plastic cups scattered all over the tabletop and rolled to the floor.

Recovering immediately, Jungkook lunged for Brock again – but this time you were there to interrupt them.

Grabbing Jungkook’s wrist as soon as he swung his hand back to prepare a punch, you finally got him to tear his eyes away from the opponent and give you a frenzied look.

“That’s enough,” you said, all out of breath as if it was you that’s been in a fight. “You made your point.”

Brock rolled off the kitchen island and coughed loudly as he dusted his shirt off. When you turned your head – both of your hands still gripping Jungkook’s raised fist, even if he was no longer planning to punch anything with it – you saw that Brock’s lip was bleeding, his left eye was starting to swell, and various hues of dark purple decorated the right side of his face.

Jungkook looked better in comparison to him – at least, from what you could see – although his cheekbones were clearly bruised, the skin irritated and bright red.

“You need to learn how to take a fucking joke,” Brock spat just as you let go of Jungkook. Immediately, he jumped past you, seemingly ready to knock Brock out.

Brock stumbled backwards, not yet prepared to defend himself against Jungkook again, but he didn’t have to do anything because you’d sneaked under Jungkook’s raised arms and pressed both of your hands into his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Jungkook,” you told him, knowing you had to remain calm in order to make progress, but struggling as fury boiled inside your veins.

Jungkook looked at you, his nostrils still flaring, but his anger dissipating as quickly as it had ignited. He took a step back until you no longer had a hold on him, and snarled at Brock, “you’re a fucking joke. Let’s go.”

The last part was directed at you, obviously, as Jungkook turned around. Knowing how quickly he could change his mind, you took his hand in yours just to make sure he didn’t knock anyone unconscious on his way out of the house.

Everything was already so surreal, you were glad he was clutching your hand so tight it almost hurt, or else you’d have thought you were dreaming. But then, to make this even more hard to believe, Jungkook exited the house and made a beeline for his car.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, stopping and thus pulling him to a stop, too.

“We’re getting out of here,” he shot back as he finished climbing the few remaining porch steps. You remained at the top. “I’m driving you home.”

You could have laughed at the absurdity.

“You are not driving,” you said, resisting his pull as he tried to get you to climb down the steps. “You’re wasted. Do you not realize that?”

“I don’t—”

“First, you need to sit down,” you told him and lowered yourself until you were sitting on the porch, your feet resting on the lowest step.

Jungkook held your hand and watched you, frozen.

“Sit,” you repeated, making it sound more like an order this time.

“I need to get out of here,” he said, growing frustrated with your need to mediate between him and his obvious anger issues. “I’m not fucking sitting—”

“Well, you’re not getting behind the wheel of a car, either,” you cut him off, pulling his hand down.

He still resisted. “I’m fine. Let go of me.”

“Sit.”

“I’m not fucking sitting down, for fuck’s—!”

“Then stop acting like a fucking lunatic and get a grip on yourself!” you yelled, all patience gone as you jumped to your feet. “You’re drunk whether you realize it or not. You can’t drive yourself, let alone someone else, and you’re fucking out of your mind with anger. So, sit your ass down and fucking breathe. Or else I’m calling the police to get you arrested. Maybe that will get through your thick head.”

Scolded to the point where he almost felt embarrassed, Jungkook mumbled something incoherent and sat down.

“God, you truly never grew up,” you said with an exasperated sigh as you plopped back down next to him. “Always looking for different ways to get your adrenaline fix.”

He groaned, leaning forwards as he rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands.

You wanted to ask him what was it that Brock had said that provoked him to start a fight -- because you had no doubt that Jungkook was the one who threw the first punch -- but decided against it. You didn’t want Jungkook to fire up again.

And so, you sat in silence for a little while – you, fuming, and Jungkook, trying to control his breathing – until he finally sat up straight and dared to look at you. Your eyes were set firmly on the grass, swaying freely in the night wind.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked.

Your face didn’t even twitch as you countered, “what do you think?”

“At me?” he tried again.

“What do you think?”

He swallowed. “What did I do wrong?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Do you seriously have to ask me that?”

“Yes,” he said, knowing that he was going to get a lecture but needing to hear it in order to properly defend himself. “Obviously.”

“You got into a fight with Brock,” you said because it was this simple.

“Yeah,” Jungkook confirmed pointlessly and then said with a prideful undertone, “because he deserved to get punched.”

He did not seem to regret it in the slightest and would have probably done it again if he went back inside the house – that’s what scared you the most about this. You may as well have been talking to a wall.

“But that’s exactly what he wants—” you tried, but Jungkook cut you off.

“To get punched?” he asked.

“No—to get a reaction out of you,” you explained, more patient now that it looked like he was finally starting to listen to you, “he wants people to talk shit about you.”

Then, surprising you, Jungkook said, “I know.”

It took you a moment to grasp that he knew the consequences his actions would have, and that made his decisions all the more self-destructive.

“So,” you took a breath, “why do you do this?”

You were scared of his answer but instead of sounding like a lost cause, he just sounded aggressively nihilistic.

“Why not?” he retorted, shrugging one of his shoulders. “What do I have to lose? At least they’re talking about me. About us.”

If he’d asked you – really asked you, not just rhetorically – you’d have told him about all the things he would have lost if he kept this up. But he didn’t ask because he didn’t think there was an answer – a meaningful answer – that would have been worth the change in attitude.

He was simply convinced he didn’t have anything worth to keep: not his relationship with his parents, and not even what remained of his own reputation.

“Well, yes, but what they’re saying isn’t doing us…” you started to say but felt yourself hit a dead-end. You were a conformist. He, clearly, wasn’t. But it wasn’t for you to decide which one of you was right when it came to dealing with campus rumors. “Anyway. That was wrong. You know fighting is wrong. You end up getting hurt.”

“He’s the one who picked a fight with me as soon as you walked away,” Jungkook mumbled childishly.

“That doesn’t mean you’re any less guilty,” you stated. “You were acting weird around him before the fight, so, in a way, you brought it upon yourself.”

Jungkook looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “When did I act weird?”

You looked away. “When you brought me that shot of absinthe.”

“What do you mean?” he asked but he knew what you meant. “I was just letting him know that we were dating. Letting everyone know that we were—”

“Right but everyone got that when we arrived together,” you spoke as soon as your face started to grow warmer from the memory of you and him on that couch, “and none of that even matters, anyway, remember? Your parents aren’t here. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said.

You paused. Then asked, “what?”

“I wanted to touch you,” Jungkook clarified. “Is that wrong?”

For a minute, you couldn’t remember if you thought that was wrong or not when he put it like that.

“It’s—” you said and then swallowed, thanking the cold breeze that raised goosebumps on your bare legs for distracting you from his intoxicating words. You had completely sobered up when you had to break up that fight and you’d have liked to remain clear-minded. “Well, if you’re doing it to mark your territory like some dog, then yeah. It’s wrong. It’s disrespectful to me.”

“I wasn’t trying to mark my territory.”

“It felt like you were.”

Sighing, he caved, even though he hated the accusation, “alright, maybe I was, a little. But Brock needed to know that he was never going to get to touch you like that.”

“Ah,” you smiled humorlessly, “and you get that privilege, right?”

“I—well, didn’t we come here to show off?”

“We did, supposedly. But…”

Your voice faded because you realized that one of the biggest reasons why it felt like he’d crossed the line tonight, was because his actions affected you so much. If you hadn’t cared about him the way that you did, you probably wouldn’t have been bothered by the methods he chose to prove the authenticity of your relationship.

Sure, he could have been less possessive, but you knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t trying to offend you. And yet you couldn’t let this go without standing up for yourself – especially not after he tried to take back every single one of his confessions the last time you’d talked to him.

“We weren’t supposed to do it like that,” you said, sounding a little more confident now. “I just felt like you went too far. Brock wasn’t worth it.”

“There’s a dozen others like Brock at that party,” Jungkook pointed out.

You scoffed. “Right. Even if there are, the only reason why they’d want me is so they could brag about stealing Jungkook’s girl.”

“No, it’s—is that the only reason why you think these guys want you?” he looked at you as he asked this, almost appalled that you would reduce your own impact to this level.

“They don’t—” you started to say with a shake of your head but that was enough for Jungkook.

“They do,” he countered, cutting you off, “and it’s not because you came with me. It’s because you’re you,” he didn’t mean to scan you from head to toe with his eyes as he said this but self-control was not one of his strong suits.

You had your objections but, at the same time, you were able to understand that arguing about this would have been pointless. Your knowledge about how men functioned came from text-books and observations, while his came from personal experience. You’d never see eye-to-eye about this.

“Why do you care about those other guys?” Jungkook asked after you didn’t reply.

“I—I don’t,” you said, still distracted by your own thoughts. “But you clearly do.”

“Of course, I do,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “They want you.”

You looked at him. “So, even if they do, why does it matter?”

“It matters because they can’t have you,” he said, “and they need to know that.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re mine.”

Your hands went numb and the fabric of your skirt that you’d been playing with started to feel foreign – fake, even – so you dropped it and took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around your midriff instead.

“I get that we’re playing a relationship,” you said, quieter than you probably should have, “but I’m not a trophy that you can brag about when you feel like it.”

“You might as well be,” he said, not intending to make it sound like you were some decoration, but realizing how it could have been interpreted precisely like that, “maybe ‘trophy’ wasn’t the right word. I mean that you are something—someone—to brag about. Because I’m proud to call you min—m-my, uh, fake-girlfriend. My friend. I’m proud of who you are. Proud of what you’d achieved. Proud of the way you can call me out on my bullshit and put me in my place—”

You did not acknowledge his slip-up with the label of your relationship – because he was drunk – scoffing instead, “there’s no way in hell you’re proud of that last one.”

“No, no, I am,” he nodded for more effect. “No one has the patience to deal with my shit. But you do.”

You went quiet again, your head spinning. The buzz of the alcohol had mostly worn off but you were unable to find a way to reply to him, and you chose to blame the drinks you’d had for that.

“Don’t do that again, okay?” you ended up saying.

Your thoughts ran a little too fast for him to keep up. “Do what?”

“Get into fights,” you said. “Act irrationally to prove a point.”

“Me hugging you was completely rational,” he said, bringing it up with such ease, it was like he was a completely different person now.

“You know what I mean,” you said. “Don’t treat me like an object. Especially, since it doesn’t change anything with your parents.”

“I wasn’t trying to--w-why are you bringing my parents into this?”

“Because of the other night?” you said, thinking it was obvious. “You were completely dismissive about this – a-about us – and you basically said that—”

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, looking down at the wooden steps of the porch. He remembered. “I didn’t mean that.”

So, here’s the answer, then: he didn’t mean that. But something – fear, insecurity, uncertainty – had still made him reduce your relationship to just an act for his parents.

“Okay,” you said, hesitating. “But we’d agreed to tell each other the truth. So, don’t—don’t say things you don’t mean. Not when it’s just us alone.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, a promise on his lips, “I’ll think before I act from now on.”

You scrunched your nose, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “Will you, really?”

He considered it, then rephrased himself, “I’ll try to think before I act.”

That got you to smile. “That’s better. Thank you.”

Jungkook smiled back and the tension outside of his house seemed to blow away with the wind. Even the night shadows around you suddenly seemed brighter.

“You have to admit, though,” Jungkook said then, “my plan to get Brock to believe we’re dating worked so much better than your diplomatic speech would have.”

“Why do you think I’d have given him a diplomatic speech?” you asked.

“I’ve known you since birth,” he replied, grinning.

“Fair point,” you couldn’t help but snicker. “We’re still doing it my way next time, though.”

“Alright,” he nodded, not really caring about much else except that you said there was going to be a next time. “So, you ready to go home now?”

You’d been ready to go home for a while now.

“I am,” you said,

He stood up. “Let’s go.”

You stood up after him but, once again, hesitated before climbing down the porch steps.

“Actually,” you spoke slowly, “I think I’m going alone.”

Jungkook hadn’t noticed that you weren’t following him as he headed towards the pavement across the front yard. He stopped at the sound of your distant voice and turned around.

“What?”

“Yeah,” you said, making your way towards him. “You stay here. Stay out of fights and—”

He was shaking his head. “If you think I’m going to let you go home alone, you’re—”

“If you think I need your permission to—”

“Okay, sorry, my bad,” he lifted his hands in a defensive manner that interrupted you. “I didn’t choose my words well. But my point stands. You’re not going home alone.”

You looked away with a sigh.

“Neither of us can drive,” you said, “and I’m not staying here.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, dismissing your attempt to escape him with a very sarcastic, “oh, and that would sure be tragic if our plans didn’t involve us going back to your place together anyway.”

“I…” you did feel the same pang of excitement in the pit of your stomach as you did when he first suggested you spent more time together at your dorm, but everything that happened since then made you unsure if it was such a good idea, after all. “I feel like going to sleep, actually.”

“Okay,” he didn’t seem bothered by that. “I’m walking you home, then.”

“I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way,” you said.

“I’m sure you are, you’ve walked around campus plenty of times before,” he said, still as witty as ever. “I’m still coming with you.”

“Jungkook…”

“Let me. Please,” he took a step closer to you as he said this and you would have probably let him to do almost anything when you saw the night sky reflected in his eyes. “I don’t want to walk you home so that other people would believe that we’re in a relationship. So that my parents would believe we’re in a relationship. Or because you’re an item I want to show off. I want to walk you home because I want to walk you home.”

You could no longer feel the cold, late-hour wind.

“Okay, fine,” you said, your voice purposefully indifferent and even irritated, just so your real feelings wouldn’t manifest themselves. “Walk me home, then.”

“Way to make it sound like I’m putting you in pain,” Jungkook jabbed.

“You are kind of a pain in my ass, actually,” you pointed out.

“Yeah? Does that pain bother you?”

“Yes, very much,” you glared at him as the two of you crossed the front yard towards the main street where he’d crashed his car weeks ago when you first found each other again. “Keeps me up all night with thoughts about it.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk, walking around you inconspicuously, so that he was on your right side, his body shielding you from the cars that drove past every now and then. One could never know what sort of a drunk lunatic could drive by. “That means my plan has worked.”

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