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mellowyandere · 4 years ago

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One Hell of a Logical Ruse Part 1

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead)

Summary: Shouta loves a good game of cat and mouse, unfortunately for you the game’s a little rigged. This is somewhat of an experiment to try and write a smut scene from the male POV. Disclaimer I am not a man so uh yeah lmao.

Based off the pre-established fic You’re Ours to Protect.

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: non-con, yandere themes, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink

Aizawa Shouta was a rational man. He did his best to adhere to logic, and to never waste time with unnecessary action. And yet despite this, he absolutely loved watching you try to escape. You were pretty clever, even without him “accidentally” forgetting to lock the second story window that just so happened to be above some forgivingly soft shrubbery.

You probably would have figured some way out on your own, but something feral inside him didn’t want to wait around for you to act. Normally it was his ever-loud husband Hizashi that fell flat when it came to the notion of patience, but today he would relent to his own selfish desires.

Toshinori would have been utterly distressed had he been aware of the sleepy pros scheme. The number one was a man of swift action, seemingly never thinking twice before charging fist first into danger. He would not be happy Shouta was playing with you like this, but Toshinori and Hizashi wouldn’t be made aware of his little game with you. After all they had no idea he set this up, so they might genuinely try to punish you. He’d keep it quiet once he caught you and pretend it’s your little secret. Maybe you’d even be a little grateful if you believed he was saving your skin.

He rationalized his behavior by telling himself you seemed so bored, truly this was the perfect way to stimulate your mind and body. So when he heard the telltale sound of a body landing in bushes on the back side of the house he simply started a timer for 20 minutes to give you a bit of a head start.

Was it cruel to get your hopes up like this? Perhaps, but he’d make sure to fuck you senseless to alleviate the disappointment. After all, if you were a good girl you’d have settled into your life with them already. But you really did enjoy testing them, which brought out the side of him that wanted to put you in your place.

Giving himself a once over he made sure he had everything he would need for your inevitable return home. Well, now that you were basically quirkiness, all he needed was his capture weapon just in case you put up a struggle. He hadn’t decided yet if he was going to fuck you when he caught you, or if he was going to haul your cute ass home first.

Thinking about plowing into you with adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the hunt had some blood rushing below his belt. Well he could always just do both.

The shrill ringing of his phones alarm brought him back from his wandering thoughts. With a sadistic grin stretching wide across his face he headed for the front door.

-----

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks trapped inside that house with three insane men. Sure they might not beat you or starve you, but the constant belittling, undermining and infantilizing was about to drive you to insanity yourself. You almost jumped for joy when you noticed an unlocked window on the second floor in Hizashi’s and Shouta’s room. The blond man had a bad habit of using too much cologne, and his dark-haired counterpart was always having to air out the room when the radio star went overboard.

Eraserhead was normally very diligent about ensuring the window was sealed tight, but last night Toshinori had come home in a flurry of smoke and blood, sending his blond junior into hysterics. It was nothing serious, unfortunately, but Shouta had been the one to calm Hizashi and tend to the number ones injuries. Amidst all the ruckus he had left the window unlocked.

You knew Shouta would soon realize his mistake and lock the window down tight, leaving you with a small time frame to enact your grand escape. It wasn't ideal, but the best you had been able to do was wait for both blonds to leave, trapping you in the house with Shouta. Normally he let you be during the day, opting to nap and grade what appeared to be homework. Hopefully today would seem like just another day, and he wouldn’t think to check on you until dinner approached.

You found yourself perched on the window sill, ready to take flight. All you had were the clothes on your back, not wanting to make any suspicious noises that would tip you off. On the count of three you braced yourself and pushed off from the ledge, landing on the bushes below with a thud.

Fuck, that was a bit louder than you had anticipated. Ignoring your growing anxiety, you made quick work of escaping the clutches of the now flattened bush and took off into the woods on the back half of the house.

Your heart was hammering like mad in your chest as you sprinted as fast as you could. It was hardly fair that it was your first time outside in three weeks and you couldn’t even slow down to take it all in. Thankfully it was spring, meaning you wouldn’t have to worry about the cold. All you needed to do was find someone to get this stupid quirk canceling collar off and then you could safely recede into the background, making sure the three pros never found you again.

Easier said than done when one of those pros was All Might, and the other two were just as formidable, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try. You did your best to not leave a trail behind, but knew once Shouta figured out you were gone he’d have no trouble tracing your tracks. It was the unfortunately shitty reality you were dealing with.

Were you really going to be able to escape? Even now as you ran as fast as you could it felt like a fruitless endeavor. There were too many variables that had to line up perfectly in order for you to pull this off, and as you ran directionless through the woods no viable solutions were coming to you. Hell, even now your lungs were burning from exertion, legs begging you to stop.

But if there was one thing that you were it was stubborn. Stubborn to a fault sometimes, and so you pushed onwards. After what felt like an eternity of non-stop running you slowed to a walk. The forest seemed never ending, taunting you with its sprawling army of trees and shrubbery. You decided to be more mindful of the tracks you were leaving, veering off course in a way that would hopefully go undetected.

Now no longer running you simply kept your steps quiet and ears alert in case Shouta had already discovered your absence. He was good at his work, but even he had limitations.

-----

Shouta had to give credit where credit was due, you were better at this than he thought you’d be. If you were his student he’d be proud, but you were his prey so he was a bit annoyed. At first your tracks had been sloppy, easy to follow and incredibly straight forward. At some point though you had changed your approach, footsteps almost vanishing as you adopted a new tactic.

He found himself crouching low, inspecting leaves to see which you had accidentally broken. There were no more snapped limbs as you carefully maneuvered through the woods. If he wasn’t a pro at hunting people down you probably would have been able to evade him, but this was his livelihood.

Ever so carefully he followed your almost invisible trail. He had you beat in endurance so you’d have to settle somewhere eventually, and without food and water you were at a distinct disadvantage. Everything was lining up in his favor as he intended, even if you were making this a little harder than expected.

The anticipation of catching a glimpse of you, of watching you realize he was there and taking off, made his heart beat faster. The longer you evaded him, the more time he had to come up with a fun punishment for you.

-----

The sun had been directly overhead at the beginning of your escape, and was now kissing the horizon. Oranges and reds were thrown about the woods as the creatures of the night began to wake from their slumber. You listened to see if you could hear the chirping of frogs to find a water source but no luck.

There was no doubt in your mind that Shouta was 110% aware of your absence by now and was probably hot on your trail. You were zigzagging a bit, trying your best to not disturb the forest floor while making it harder to track you. Dammit this was the fucking worst, it had to have been at least 6 hours in these woods, and without any food or water you were famished.

And yet despite wandering about for 6 fucking hours you had yet to see anything besides the woods. Maybe you should just give up, sit down and accept defeat and whatever punishment you had awaiting you. You couldn’t help but shiver a bit at the fear of what that would entail.

As dusk quickly turned dark you debated on whether or not you were going to rest for the night. Visibility would be lower, giving you a slight edge, but Eraserhead was a night owl meaning you were entering his domain of peak performance. There was also no guessing if he was the only one looking for you. All Might could move faster than you could even comprehend and Present Mic was fine-tuned when it came to noise location.

Sighing in annoyance as your wayward thoughts shot holes through your confidence you decided to find somewhere to try and lay down for a bit. If all three were out hunting you down they could take turns and overlap the time so you never got to rest. As busy as they should be with hero work they always seemed to find too much time to hover around you.

Spotting some dense shrubbery, you crossed your fingers that any creepy crawlies would keep to themselves and carefully began to conceal yourself. Perhaps one of them would pass by and you could gain some intel. If you were lucky they’d write this area off after not finding you and search elsewhere.

Settling as comfortably as one could in a bush you closed your eyes and did your best to focus on the sounds around you. The melodic chirping of crickets was the most overwhelming of all the sounds. Skittering of small forest animals echoing around as well. Your mind began to desensitize to those sounds, the lack of adrenaline that pushed you along at the start of all this causing it to dip into unconsciousness.

That was until you heard the distinct snap of a branch. Eyes flying open you were on high alert as you kept still. You tried to hear if there would be any follow up sounds, knowing something of a decent size had to have broken the branch. If it had been a deer they would have simply kept moving, which made you all the more anxious.

“No more tracks kitten, I know you’re here somewhere. This little game dragged on a lot longer than I had anticipated so it seems there won’t be any way to hide this from Zashi and Toshinori.”

You wanted to scream. Even though you had tried your best it simply wasn’t enough against Eraserhead.

“If you come out kitten I’ll give you one last shot to run. Those bushes over there look like a mighty fine hiding spot for someone of your size.” His voice was pointed directly towards you.

FUCK. You couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not at this point but he knew you were here, might as well come out with some dignity before he dragged you out kicking and screaming.

The bush rustled loudly as you forced your way out. You were tired, famished and most of all so frustrated you wanted to cry. You didn’t even need to look at him to know he had a condescending smirk plastered to his face.

“There’s my pretty kitty, did you have fun outside?”

Shouta knew just what to say to strike a nerve, but you held your tongue. “One last shot to run. You said so yourself. Ditch the capture weapon and catch me like a man, I mean unless you don’t think you can. I’m already quirkiness which is your gimmick on a regular day, so really you're just beating on someone while they're already down.” You looked up now, glaring at him as his smile grew in amusement.

“I’m going to have to be a lot more physical without it you know, I’ll have no choice but you manhandle you.”

“I’d rather take my chances.” You knew even without his capture weapon you didn’t stand much of a chance of escape. Your only goal now was to try and see how much he was willing to handicap himself.

“Gonna give me a head start or are you going to just run as soon as I do?”

At this Shouta had to keep himself from snarking back at you. He had already given you a head start, but if he told you this was all set up you’d probably lose the will to fight on. “Five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes to run as far as you can and then I’ll come after you,” he said while pulling out his phone.

“What about Toshinori and Hizashi?”

“At the house. I told them I’d handle this, Toshinori will be coming to get us though once I tell him game over. We’re pretty deep in the woods and I don’t feel like walking back for six hours.”

You nodded at his words. So it was just the two of you then. Your combat skills were nothing to write home about, but maybe if you fought dirty you could gain the upper hand.

“Alright, tell me when.”

“Oh, I already started it. You have 4 minutes and 17 seconds.”

Fucking asshole. You took off sprinting, running as fast as you could, only opting to slow to a jog once you thought you were out of earshot. You wanted him to believe you’d be trying your damndest to put distance between the two of you. But you knew you’d never outrun him. Instead you were going to continue jogging for a bit, counting down the seconds in your head so you didn’t lose track your timer.

Once your remaining time was up you were going to lay low and try to ambush him. He wouldn’t be paying as close attention to your trail since he knew he could easily catch up.

After the remaining 4 minutes had passed you found a decent sized tree to hide behind and worked on slowing down your breathing. It felt like your heart was going to chisel its way straight through your bones, your limbs trembling with anxiety. It wasn’t often you were hunted back when you were an anti-hero. Not many people knew who you were which made it incredibly easy to be looked over.

Scooping up handfuls of dirt you waited. You heard him before you saw him. He wasn’t bothering to take it slow, seemingly eager to get it over with. He ran right past you, noticing you a second too late as dirt and debris were chucked straight into his face.

He yelled out in surprise, hands reaching out to grab you but you jumped out of reach. True to his word his capture weapon was nowhere in sight. Screaming in anger you lunged at him, nails attempting to claw his face but his own larger hands were working on wiping off your dirt assault, effectively blocking you.

He stumbled back a bit, unprepared for your hostility, before steadying himself and turning the tables back on you. In one swift motion his fist collided with your gut, forcing the air from your lungs. Your arms came down to protect where he had hit as you wheezed pathetically. Seconds later his larger frame came crashing into you, easily knocking you to the ground.

You cried out in pain, head hitting the ground a bit too hard as stars danced behind your eyes.

“Not very smart of you Y/N, I mean it beats trying to outrun me, but really? Dirt? It’s like you want me to punish you or something.”

“GET OFF ME!”

Placing a hand on the back of your head he pushed you down while his other arm pulled the lower half of your body flush against him. You could feel his erection pressing up against your ass.

You were a snarling sobbing mess at this point. All your emotions crashing down at once as you thrashed below Shouta.

“Easy now easy, calm down kitten. You did really good, better than I thought you were going to. If you calm down I might be willing to reduce your punishment, but you have to stop throwing a fit first.”

Despite his words Shouta was enjoying almost every second of your thrashing. The only thing he didn’t enjoy was knowing how disappointed you were right now. Anyone would be after coming so far. Now was his chance to make it up to you before giving Toshinori the go ahead.

As your struggles subsided the only movement from your body was from your gentle sobs. Shouta for his part was slowly grinding his hard cock against your ass as he softly shushed you.

“I know you’re disappointed kitten but I’ll make you feel better. If you’re a good girl for me I’ll be willing to look past that little dirt tactic. You’re such a smart girl though, you really did catch me by surprise.”

Leaning down he began to whisper into your ear, removing the hand from your head and bringing it down to your clothed pussy.

“You always were resourceful, it’s one of the things I fell in love with about you. If only you were a hero, but then again if you were I wouldn’t have had the fun of hunting you down.”

You felt your stomach drop at his words. All three of them enjoyed reminiscing about how they first saw you and all their subsequent actions that lead to your imprisonment. The effort they had put into bringing you “home”. It was beyond disturbing.

“Please Shouta, not here. Can we, can we just go home first?”

“Maybe if I had found you 4 hours ago, but right now you’re treading on very thin ice. Be a good girl for me and I’ll make sure Hizashi and Toshinori don’t punish you too harshly when we get back.”

His large hand was pawing at your clothed sex, black hair draping over your own face as his body curled around you. He slowly rutted against you, excited huffs of air ghosting across the side of your face. You could practically feel his heart vibrating against your back he was so worked up.

He gently rubbed his stubble against the side of your face, composure slipping a bit. While Shouta absolutely loved how feisty you could be, nothing compared to when you submitted to him. He craved the feeling of your tired body giving in to his ministrations, but he needed more.

His hand quickly slipped between your pants and underwear, index finger eagerly aiming for your folds. He couldn’t care less that you were sweaty and dirty from the hunt. Right now all he could think about was the softness of your exposed flesh, and much to his delight, the slight wetness to your outer lips.

“Seems like someone likes being caught more than they let on hmm kitten?”

He couldn't help but taunt you a bit, loving the way you sniffled and whimpered beneath him. You knew when to behave yourself, when to be good for him. Arousal was flooding his veins. The way it felt to rub himself against your perfect ass, even through layers of clothes, had his mind blanking out.

Your core was warm, even without him dipping a finger inside. Gently he began to delve deeper, gathering up your arousal to spread around. Your pants were starting to bother him a bit, retracting his hands he made quick work of not only your bottoms, but his as well. You remained still for him, opting to sulk like a child as he prepared to ravish you.

You were too cute like this, and with the lower half of your body on full display he couldn't help but groan in delight. Bringing a hand down he slapped your ass hard, mesmerized by the way your flesh gave way. You yelped in surprise, body rutting forward. His cock twitched as he palmed your sore flesh, cooing softly in apology. You glared back at him, pretty little face set in a pout.

As much as he wanted to slap your ass until you cried for him to stop he restrained himself. Although this was a punishment, he had set you up. He would go easy on you, not forgetting his promise to himself to help you forget the frustration you were feeling right now.

Whenever you got angry you opted to stop talking, instead waiting for a moment of weakness to strike or quietly accept your fate. Judging by your defeated expression he could safely assume the latter

Folding himself over you he brought his hand back down to your pussy, thumb working slow circles on your clit while he middle finger delved deeper. Your entrance was a bit tight, but with gentle persistence he worked his way inside.

Your velvety inner walls clamped down on him. He couldn’t help but rut his aching cock against your bare ass as his mind drifted to the feeling of you clamping down on his arousal instead. Your whines of protest only further spurring on his overwhelming need to be inside you.

Adding a second finger he began to pump into you with a bit more urgency. Your slick was quickly coating his hand as he hit all the spots he knew would work you up to your orgasm. Groaning in delight he brought his lips to your exposed neck, sucking and nipping at your soft flesh.

He loved when he could tell you were getting close. Your warm walls would clamp down on him, breathy mewls and moans escaping your soft lips. You were rocking back into him, uncaring of the fact that you were grinding against him as you chased your release. In these moments you abandoned your resolve to fight against him, and he happily took advantage of that. After all, if your body knew what you wanted, surely your mind would catch up one day.

Your moans were more audible now, hands grasping at the forest floor. Your back was arched into him, desperate to use him. So close, you were so close he knew it, and right before you could finish he pulled his hand away. He laughed as you huffed in frustration.

“Shouta pl-please.” Fuck, he loved it when you begged. It didn’t happen often with how stubborn you were but when it did he knew he had to comply.

Instead of verbally responding he opted to do what he wanted to all night long. Lining up the tip of his cock to your entrance he groaned at the heat radiating off you. Pumping his hand along his length a couple times to lube himself up with your excess fluid he pushed the tip in. You stilled beneath him, and in one swift movement he fully sheathed himself.

His mind went blank as you cried out in pleasure, wet walls convulsing around him as your orgasm tore through you. He held still, opting to gently pet you while cooing softly down at you. Before he met you, even with Hizashi, he had never been very vocal during sex. But now he couldn’t stop himself from babbling a bit, praising you for being such a good girl.

As your body stilled in his arms he continued to plant kisses along your delicate neck. Your soft sniffles made his heart clench a bit, how was it possible for you to be so damn cute?

“Alright kitten now it’s my turn. No pulling anything stupid, I won’t take long.”

This whole hunt had been one giant tease, working him up in a way he normally wouldn’t allow himself. Pulling out he groaned at the feeling of his cock sliding against you. Moving his hands he grabbed your waist, eyes transfixed on where you were joined. Your back was arched as you braced yourself on your elbows, presenting yourself to him.

His mind clouded over, blood opting to drag his attention elsewhere. He began to push back in, desperate to feel you surrounding him. Setting a tempo he pulled about halfway out before slamming back in, loving the way your body moved as you bounced off him.

His hands dug into your supple flesh, possibly leaving bruises. He could feel the oncoming of his own orgasm, the muscles in his lower abdomen pulsating. He was panting, heart racing in his rib cage as his eyes rolled back into his head. He didn’t have the patience to edge himself today, he needed this, needed you.

He loved hearing the way your breath was forced from your lungs when he fully sheathed himself inside you. He knew he was overstimulating you a bit, but the part of him that needed to find his own release didn’t pay that fact much mind. All he could think about was the way it felt to be one with you, lost inside your soft warmth.

After only a couple more minutes of relentlessly pounding into you he couldn’t hold it back any longer. A wave like sensation rushed through his body as his hips stuttered. He folded over you, wrapping his arms around you as he felt his hot cum rush through his cock and fill your body. The emotions rushing through him as he released into you, the woman he loved, were indescribable.

It didn’t take long for his muscles to relax, euphoria swept away by the need to take a nap washing over him. You had long since stopped crying, remaining motionless beneath him. He wondered what was going through your mind as he held you flush against him.

“Sho-Shouta.” So meek, so quiet. His heart fluttered a bit. “Can we go home now... I want to take a shower.”

Chuckling softly he pulled himself out, groaning a bit at the feeling of overstimulation as your warm walls dragged against him. Leaning away he smiled as his cum leaked out your pussy.

“Yes kitten we can go home. I’ll make sure to clean you up.”

You groaned in protest, hating when they insisted on washing you. He knew you liked your privacy but Hizashi and Toshinori were still going to want to punish you. He’d keep close by to keep them from being too harsh.

Pulling up his pants he fished his phone out of his pocket, rolling his eyes at the sheer quantity of missed calls from the two aforementioned. Poor little kitten, it didn’t look like you’d be getting off easy.

#tw: noncon #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa shouta #yandere eraserhead #yandere x reader #yandere x you #aizawa x reader #yandere shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader

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jjkpls · 4 years ago

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first love (m)

genre : fluff, angst, light smut

pairing : kim seokjin x reader (f)

word count : 4.6k

warnings/content : mentions of sexual intercourse, mature language, infidelity, separated parents, unresolved past relationship, dad!seokjin, mom!reader

Seokjin doesn't mean to overreact. He knows he shouldn't. Knows you hate it. Knows, because he's been told enough times, that these types of reactions are unnecessary and possibly harmful for a child.

He can't really help it when deep down he knows he was meant to be an actor. Right before his actual birthday, his mother had dreamt of giving birth on a theatre stage, for God's sake.

But his father wasn't into it, given his ambitions, his own growing company and all the promising opportunities he envisioned both for him and for his only son. Therefore Seokjin went to law school, graduated with excellent mentions, followed an accelerated program in business development and managing and joined his father exactly where he was expected.

He isn't exactly complaining.

He likes his job, most of the time, likes the money and luxury that come with it especially and appreciates the work safety.

Now, you can't blame him for being quite the drama queen in his everyday life. All that pent up, buried alive passion for the arts of acting need to express, somehow.

That's what he'd say to you when you used to yell at him for starting weeping loudly in your ear when he'd call you to cancel a date last minute because he couldn't come, instead of just, cancelling it, aplogize, get over it like a normal person.

Or when you'd kick him in the ribs because he'd be all wild gestures and screeching screams when he'd teach your son to ride a bike and he would fall, as he should to learn, making the boy cry even when he wasn't hurt, solely from the projection of his dad's fear.

You're not here to tell him yourself but the glazed, annoyed roll of his son's eyes tells him precisely what you would. Those eyes are the worst. The prettiest he's ever seen. The ones he loves the most. The ones you also wear on your own pretty face.

"Since when?" He has a hand pressed to his chest, preventing a heart attack it seems, gaze wide and alarmed. Timothy sighs.

"A while. They were already together for Valentine's Day-" He explains patiently. That kid is sweet. The way he's slumped over, obviously annoyed to have to be the one telling his dad and having to deal with the consequences but still, he's watching over him with a soft eye, mouth torn in a sympathetic pout. He wouldn't mind his parents to get back together even though he is almost sure it wouldn't be a good idea for the both of you. He's heard tales of dysfunctional families, of parents hurting each other and their children and doesn't want that for any of you. He can't imagine it happen. You two are too good for that. That's probably why you had decided to separate in the first place.

Seokjin is quickly making maths in his head. Not really counting the time but situating himself in that time frame. Where was he at when she was out with this guy? What was he doing?

He may have been in Japan when it started. He remembers a call from you, you were asking him to take Timothy for a couple of days. You sounded embarrassed and he didn't know why but couldn't take the time to investigate, he had a flight expecting him and a conference call waiting to start in a couple of minutes. Important stuff. None of it would have mattered if he had known what you were up to.

"You okay, dad?" Timothy asks, awkward but kind. His mom basically.

"Devastated." Seokjin says with the widest grin on his face. He's not devastated. It'd be ridiculous to be for something absolutely predictable, fair and normal. He's not mad, nor disappointed. You deserve to be seeing people, have them desire you and make you feel good. He wishes it were him but if he can't do that, if you won't let him, he's glad you still can allow someone else to do it.

He's surprised though, he can't lie about that.

Honestly. That's stupid. But he didn't expect one second that you were seeing someone. You never mentioned anything and you didn't look like it. If there's a way you look when you're dating.

He remembers rosy cheeks and short skirts. You were younger.

"You think it's serious?" He asks casually, surprising even himself. His heart is in a turmoil but he showed enough to Timothy, acting like he was half dying, gasping for air and all.

"I don't know. She doesn't want to bring him home yet. Like, introduce him to me. I asked." Timothy, not only is he nice, he is smart. He's thirteen, shouldn't know much about Love and adults' matters yet. He's supposed to still be at that stage when one believes children and adults are two very distinctive race of humans, one that depends on the other and the other having it all figured it out, having reached a certain knowledge and expertise on all things and can't really be wrong on accident.

Timothy knows precisely what his dad would love to hear. And he gives it to him. Not to feed him vain hopes. Not even for this tiny hidden greed to have you back together. Simply because it's the truth and if for once the truth is pleasant to hear, then he should give it. Seokjin's smile only gets brighter. He shares a glance with his son, a glint winking his way and Timothy rolls his eyes, unable to hide the lift of the corners of his lips.

"Anyway, I heard you won that science fair at school?" Seokjin has already left his seat on Timothy's bed. He's rummaging through his leather bag and Timothy knows what it means. He has a present for him. Seokjin always has a present for him. Most of the time, he can justify it by some event or some success Timothy had encountered. The thing is they don't see each other that often, therefore, almost systematically, something new has come about and Seokjin can explain why he's brought a brand new console, a new laptop, a TV for his room or that one limited edition of this way too expensive branded pair of sneakers.

You used to get really mad at that. You'd say that he shouldn't, that he didn't need to bring him all these expensive stuff because what he'd like (it was a long time ago when Timothy was too young to have his own opinion and you would speak for him) is for his dad to be here more often. You'd say he wouldn't have to buy him shit for any other times than Christmas and his birthday if only he could be here for him. His dad would be his present.

It caused a lot of drama, a lot of crying. You had made sure not to scream, not to be too angry but Timothy felt from the way you squeezed him hard against your bosom that you were very upset. His dad had apologized, had said the most with his eyes only for you to understand. Timothy was staring, trying to get it too because he was involved, wasn't he? But that was one of those adults moments he wasn't allowed to participate in yet.

From then on, his dad wasn't late anymore when he'd set dates with him, his phone would be turned off when they were together and he would text him more often.

It was really nice. Because at first, Timothy felt that maybe if his dad wasn't so present it was because he didn't want to. For some reasons. He thought maybe he was too much of a coward or too nice possibly, to leave you two altogether, to disappear from your lives and start another one somewhere else, one he would have chosen and shaped as he'd want. Turns out Seokjin really appreciated his son and the time he got to spend with him. The more time they spend together, the more Timothy is met with awed eyes and whistling lips, impressed as his dad is by his smartness, his humour and hidden talents. He just was very busy. You explained that to him. That he was passionate by his work, that it required a sacrificial amount of time in one's life, and that he shouldn't ever take it personally because even he loved you and couldn't give you that time.

It's the conversation that led him to think that maybe his parents are meant to be, except they won't because... circumstances.

In any case, no matter how often they meet now, Seokjin still brings him gifts each and every time. The difference is that he has to think of a reason, sometimes make one up to not be struck down by your fury.

"Yes, I did."

"Of course, you did! Cause my son is the smartest." Timothy waits for the moment he says that his brain and the magic fuel filling it all come from him. It doesn't come. Instead, a neat white box is held in front of his face. There's a pretty tie made of ribbons glued in the middle, to hide the picture of what's inside, but there's no doubt that this is an iPhone. He rips the tie off and surprise surprise it's the iPhone 12.

"Mom is going to kill you." Timothy says first, before even thanking him, heart pounding from excitement and face split in two by the wide banana grin.

"Probably." He shrugs, unapologetic.

"Thanks, dad!" Timothy doesn't forget to add, eyes shiny and toothy grin even shinier.

He hopes so. That you're going to be mad. You two are too old to have petty fights now. You don't waste your energy in screaming and finding the worst things to say to hurt his feelings. You just cross your arms under your tits, clench your jaws and adopt that pout on your mouth, eyelids low and eyebrows high, the embodiment of condescendence and you look sexy as hell. He smiles and winks at you, calls you by an old pet name and you're swooning even though you try to hide it. No one is charming like he is, and no one charms you as he does therefore he's not too worried.

His son was just going around with this prehistorical device you dared to call a smartphone. With the broken screen, and the non-functioning selfie cam and the safari app needing a good ten minutes to charge one fucking page -this was deliberate as you wanted him to have a phone to call and text you and not go and lose himself on the internet or whatever. He's almost fourteen though and he's doing a great job at school and is such a good kid at home, he deserves it.

"I know and I don't care. I don't need you to tell me my son is good." You are infuriated. The perfect picture of you he had imagined, the only difference is that, you've just walked out of work, you seem to have had a rough day and your hair is a mess. With the wild locks hanging off of your bun, framing your pretty face, you look even better. "I don't want him to have something so expensive on him, first of all."

"His dad is richer than Cresus, what do you expect?" The cockiness dripping from every pore should suffice to make you explode. Of course, it doesn't. He has that stupid side grin. The one he's got you with in the first place.

"And what about- internet and even just the darn AppStore? He's too young to-"

"Are you worried about porn?" He frowns, you flush. That's precisely one of the things you think about. You don't want him to fall upon stuff he doesn't need to see -in your opinion for a good ten years at least- or start taking interest in social medias where creepy fuckers could hang out.

You flush because apparently, it's a word complicated still to hear from him. "I've made a parental software installed in it. And a localisation too. Not that we really need it with him but you know."

"Oh." All tension escapes from your torn face and tensed shoulders.

"Oh, wow, my first love is such a good dad." He mocks, voice high, hardly resembling yours, barely biting back a smirk. He even goes as far as swiping the right side of his bangs back, eyes closed, mannerism insufferable.

"Shut up." More flush. A fist to his chest for punishment. Bad idea. Apparently, he went back to the gym.

"You should be nicer because I have something for you too." He says, eyes glancing mischievously as his hand dips in the pocket of his trench coat. "Well. I don't want it." You cross your arms on your chest again which only serves to push your tits forward to him and he wonders what you're playing at. Probably the same game he plays when he winks and smiles and lifts his eyebrow to you.

"Wait 'til you see it." He sees the moment you realize it's a jewellery box. He reads the instant wild excitement, he catches also the gloomy shadow you try to paint over it because you don't want to accept it. How many times does he need to be told to stop? He won't ever stop.

"You can't buy me, Seokjin." You're eyeing the velour box in his hand, a tiny beautiful red in this large pearly white palm. You want it. You always do. You don't dare uncross your arms though because you know that if you even do something as reckless as taking it in your hand, just to have a look at it, you won't be able to refuse it.

"Of course, I can." More of that smirk. You glare, it makes him wheeze as he does.

You have never ever been able to refuse any of his shiny presents. You're not a gold digger, that's precisely why you felt so guilty all the time, accepting to receive from him things you could never afford for him -or yourself. He's born richer than you'll ever be, he loves to spend it on his loved ones -and on cars and designer clothes- and amongst everything else he loves, he adores covering you in shiny little rocks.

No one has ever worn diamonds the way you do. You look beautiful without them, magnificent with them. They were made to enhance your beauty and you were made to give them sense.

"You're such a dick." You say, tone way too monotonous to still have been in total control of your free will. Your eyes are glued to the shine of the two dainty clear earrings nested in the case. He's holding it open in front of your nose, like a hypnotizing stick. He sees your determination wavers. Your arms have just untied. Your hand is getting close. He smiles already savouring his victory.

"Take them, petal, I don't think your new boy could ever afford them." Your hand freezes mid-track, face falling you look up. He's a bit surprised to see guilt in those eyes. Shame and guilt. Even though, you have the right to see whoever you want. Obviously.

"How-" His head tilts slightly towards the hallway, where the bedrooms and the one Timothy is in, probably playing with his new phone. "Great. Bribing our son into giving you off my personal information."

"I gave him the iPhone after he told me." Seokjin feels the need to precise. His son loves him and he confided for this very reason. He wants to believe. He hopes that it's not because he's worried his dad would have a mental breakdown if he were to learn the news the day his mom would invite him to their wedding or something.

You sigh. You don't know what to say it seems. He doesn't want you to feel upset. He's not going to congratulate you either. He can't.

"Take them."

"He could- he's a doctor, you know." You sound like a petty little girl saying that, fingers aiming for the box but mouth reshaped by contempt.

Thankfully, the mesmerizing glee on your lovely face makes up for this last information.

A doctor.

He snorts, huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Are you really being disdainful over the noblest of all professions?"

"I bet he's not as handsome as I am." Seokjin says, staring away into space in a very Vogue kind of pose.

"And it's relevant because your face saves lives too, right?" You add to his clownery, biting on the smile wanting to take over your face.

"Precisely." You're already putting them on, watching your fingers work in the reflection on the microwave door. He's loving it. One is on, reflecting the light coming from the window, bringing a new sense to your whole stance. You don't look tired anymore. You look very fancy. Sexier than before. Your butt sways a little in excitement when you take a new look at yourself, now beautifully decorated and he's reminded of an idea he once had but never got to realize.

He wanted to have a fashion designer make a garter holder made of tiny diamonds. Solely diamonds. It would fit you just right, maybe a bit tight on you, would dig slightly in the meat of your thighs, enough to look fucking sinful and not too much so it doesn't hurt. He was quite young when he had the idea first and was probably not rich enough to make it happen.

He now owns a few palaces perched on the last stage of skyscrapers in three of the most expensive cities in the world and he would sell one in a beat if it meant he could get that for you and see you wear it for him.

You'd probably end up accepting it and then wear it for your new boy so that's out the question.

He doesn't hesitate when he reaches a hand forward, slip his fingers through the tie holding your hair in a bun and slide it off. You don't even flinch, he's still allowed to do that.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you." You whisper with a smile, both for the compliment and for the present.

"You went to the hair salon." You nod, forcing yourself not to show your surprise. He doesn't need it to throw himself some flowers, "See? I noticed." He adds with way too much pride for so little.

"Your lenses work, congratulations." Sarcasm is the only answer to his stupidity, you both have figured this out long ago. "Is he nice?" Seokjin can't help but ask. He doesn't want to know too much about him. Kind of hopes that it won't be necessary as the guy won't last too long. But he can't resist his curiosity.

"Yes." You say without much of a hesitation. "Last week, he took me to this nice French restaurant in Songpa." You tell, eyes looking away, a bit pensive, mindlessly playing with one strand of your hair. Your face is taken over by that air. Seokjin realizes then that you really like him.

"I used to take you to very nice restaurants all the time, remember?" He's just messing around now. He knows it's not that relevant. Knows it won't get him higher in your regard,

"And I would spend half the date with the waiter while you'll have yours with your phone. I do remember." Especially given you don't recall your common past the same.

He does remember now that you mention it. His memory has been awfully selective and mainly, what he could picture when he thought about those times, is how beautiful you looked, how much he wanted you and felt like even sitting right next to you, he couldn't satisfy that need, was missing you even if you were right there, and the mind-blowing sex too. The later probably happening because he owed to make it up to you because indeed, his job was on the dates too and you hated that. He remembers the late mornings, the lazy ones, you'd make him carry you on his back because your legs and your hips hurt too badly.

"Ouch!" Toppling over, hand on his bosom where it actually really hurts, he yelps in agony, pretending to have been shot. You giggle and slap his shoulder, pester him to stop when you both hear Timothy ask from his room if everything's okay. You'd think he would know by now that his dad is just a clown whose shenanigans shouldn't be taken seriously.

"Are you seeing someone these days?" What a shame, Seokjin really thought for once he'd be solely cool and collected and handsome. Instead, he can feel his ears start to burn in embarrassment, walks a few steps back, pretending to want to throw a glance through the window when really, he'd do anything to not have see you notice.

"Someone?" He huffs. "Some three, actually some four or five. You know how the ladies get with me-" He sounds dumb as hell. It suffices to make you laugh. You've always laughed at his antics. Even when you were going through complicated times, like the pregnancy and the soon to follow break up, he'd try to dry your cheeks and lighten your gaze, heartbroken as he was to see you like that, and it would always work.

"And I know how bad you are with maths." He nods, doesn't look at you, simply stares at the shiny tip of his italian shoes. "You should call me sometimes, Jin." You don't need to tell him, he knows. You say that to him almost every single time. It's just you being kindhearted, the way you've always been. But first, he hates the idea that somehow, to some degree, it's a pity hand you're holding out for him. And secondly, he knows he'll fuck up if he calls.

He won't be able to talk about his job or politics or what's on the dumb tv these days. He'd probably start by asking what you're wearing and end it all by serenading you. What a bad idea. "You don't ever call, only Tim. Which is fine but-" He is lonely, he does miss you, but he's not that stupid. "I miss you too, you know." You look awfully sincere when you say this. There's still a sad shade to your eyes and he suspects it comes from you worrying about him rather than you simply wanting him more in your life. Maybe it's there for both reasons. He can't be mad at you for caring about him still, can he? Ultimately, it's sweet. It's not your fault he tends to be a loser in his very personal life.

He wouldn't know who he is trying to comfort when he strides forward and place a kiss on your cheek. The other one he's cradling in his palm feels warmer the longer he touches it. He doesn't let it go once he backs up and away. You're looking up to him with your eyes looking all round and childish. Quiet and in expectancy. You look like you do when you would wait for him to kiss you. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and he smirks.

"Expecting me to kiss you?" He asks with an eyebrow raised high. Pretend judgment in his tone, even remonstrance. As if. "How scandalous, when you already have a boyfriend." You know he's just kidding and he can tell that. He wouldn't play with that if he wasn't sure. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings, make you feel wrong or bad in any way. He loves you too much for that. You could let him kiss you and he wouldn't hold you accountable for it. Therefore he does. Because he's dying to since the last time it happened a couple of weeks back. And when your own lips welcome his, with that much willing and tenderness, he suspects you've had too.

He doesn't allow it to go too far. He thought you would stop him, at some point, but you don't. He's the one pulling away when his tongue, instinctively, means to reach out for your own. He knows what comes after that, and what comes after that and after and after. And even if you transpire guilt and shame, he can sense in the way your eyes stare into his that you would have let it all happen.

He's not lacking in desire, he hopes you know that. Honestly, since earlier, and that random flash of the diamond garter holder, his brain is half clouded by the thought of your thighs and his face buried in between them. You used to make the most delicious sounds, pulling at the root of his hair and chasing your high with your hips. Also now that he's met your mouth again and he envisioned what could happen if he just let go, he can't help but think about that dresser in your room. The gigantic thing you wanted him and Timothy to put together as sort of a father and son enterprise to bound or whatever - he ended up paying a guy to do it for them and they played Mario Kart instead but you don't need to know that. Point of the matter is, that massive dresser has a massive mirror on its door and that massive mirror sits perfectly in front of your bed. And all he can think about is how bad he'd like to fuck you on your bed while you'd watch yourself in it. He'd pull back your hair, hold in tight in his fist like he knows you love so you could see your own cute face while his cock would reshape your cunt to its fitting, all this with the pretty little shiny earrings adorning your ears.

Fuck, what a concept.

And it is to say that right now, he knows, you'd let him. He's not that wicked though. He feels your too weak to resist him today therefore he's not even going to chance it. He doesn't want you to do something you'd hate yourself for afterwards.

"I should go, I still have documents to send for a new contract before-" He takes a look at the expensive watch heavy on his wrist, you roll your eyes. "Half an hour ago, great." He offers you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes no matter how hard he tries before he's off to the hallway, giving you his broad back. "I'm going to say bye to Tim."

"It's just- like that, Seokjin." The words are pretty badly chosen. They don't mean much. Seokjin still gets it though. He can picture you behind him, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head to the side. It doesn't mean much.

"I know, petal. Don't worry." He throws over his shoulder, faux lightness in his tone even though his heart feels raw. It doesn't mean enough, is more accurate. This kiss like every single one of your shared looks and words and bickering and touches, they all mean that you still fit perfectly good together. However, it's not enough because somehow, someday, you came to the conclusion that you were not meant to be. He's confused as to why and how he agreed with you then. Here's the main reason why he never calls you.

When Timothy looks up from his new phone, wearing your eyes and his smile, he feels a whole new range of pain affected to his sensitized heart. How can you not see that you're meant to be?

A/N: Happy Lunar New Year :) this little thingy was inspired by Arsène Lupin and the relationship between Assane and Claire for those who watched it! I don’t know if i translated well the alchimy and unfightable attraction and connection they still have even after having seperated. ANYWAY, hope you all are doing fine, hope you liked this, LET ME KNOW what you thought, tell me about your day, your resolutions if you have any, what’s the weather like where you at etc lmao xoxo

PS: stay tuned for a new upcoming series i’m quite excited about ~~

#btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #ksmutclub #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #bts scenario #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin scenario

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ifeelallwrite · 4 years ago

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Let’s talk about Hospital Playlist. (KDRAMA REVIEW)

note: does contain spoilers

When people ask me what is my favorite Korean drama of all time, with no doubt, IT’S HOSPITAL PLAYLIST. This drama has the comic relief, the emotional scenes, realistic characters-just to name a few. No toxic relationships and petty revenge fights. Nothing else will stop me for saying that this is the ultimate feel good drama.

SYNOPSIS: The drama shows insights into the daily lives of doctors and nurses working at Yulje Medical Hospital. It focuses on 5 doctors who have been friends since medical school, who also play together as a band.

This drama encompasses so many elements and characters so bear with me yo this might be real long

Hospital Playlist is produced/written by the Shin-Lee PD and writer pairing, whose previous works were the renowned Reply trilogy and Prison Playbook (which are *chef’s kiss*) I really like that all their dramas really highlight humanism, and puts emphasis on creating a heartwarming and realistic series. There isn’t always a major conflict to be resolved, but instead it showcases how different people-in this case mostly those in the medical field-go on about their daily lives. I also liked their reasoning to produce a medical drama which was that hospitals were where the most dramatic moments occurred, for example during births, deaths or sickness. And since we are still in the Covid-19 pandemic, it ties in greatly to be paying homage to all the medical personnel saving lives. Hence, props to those who were involved in this meaningful masterpiece <3

The drama is not the usual 16 episodes, but has 12 episodes for each season (SEASON 2 IS COMING SOON YAAS) Good thing is I felt that they were still able to weave a dynamic storyline in the first season even with lesser episodes. The writing was just top-notch with the witty humor bits. Additionally, the music is AMAZING. I love the concept of the main characters being a band and playing different songs every episode too.

Okay, now onto the characters. I thought that every character in this drama was well rounded. Starting of with the main five characters, also known as The 99ers, whose distinctive personalities and natural chemistry make all of them extremely likeable. All main characters are professors of different specialties, and I find the male OB-GYN (Seokhyeong) and female neurosurgeon (Songhwa) very refreshing. Also, I like Shin-Lee dramas always have characters that might be realistic yet hardly seen in other dramas or films. For example, Professor Ahn Jeongwon. Despite being a chaebol (inheritor/heir), he isn’t depicted as a spoilt brat or a cold character, instead as a warm Pediatric doctor who uses his wealth to secretly support patients in need. However it makes him stingy to his friends LOL

To be honest, I really thought I was gonna dislike Junwan due to his cold and tsundere nature. I pretty much believed that he was going to be the party pooper type of the bunch, but with the writer being a master of character development, he turned out to be really sincere and hilarious at times. Same for Ikjun, who apart from his enthusiastic and happy go lucky exterior, cares the most about the people around him. Although Seokhyeong seemed detached and introverted, he shows a emotional side to his friends as well as his mother. Songhwa is literally a girlboss though haha she’s smart, capable and gets along with everyone well. And she’s the most sane out of the bunch.

With all the main characters, we have the relationships. Junwan is the first to date seriously with Iksun (the dog or Micky? jkjk) who is Ikjun’s sister. When it first happened I was like not again Jung Kyung Ho (bc he dated his best friend’s sis in prison playbook too LMAO) I think their relationship was realistic and open. It also showed a more sensitive side to Junwan who would do anything for her. I especially liked how he said he didn’t need access to her phone because he trusted her. Yet as all couples do, they have their fair share of ups and downs. Like conflicts on getting married and a long distance relationship as Iksun moves overseas for graduate studies. I don’t really know how to take the ambiguous ending for these two, as Junwan receives the returned box (that has the ring he sent) I really hope nothing bad happens to these two though.

I’m sure we all love Wintergarden couple though, tbh they’re kinda my OTP at the moment 🤣 It was pretty much a ‘will they won’t they’ relationship with a relatively slow build. I think Gyeoul turned out to be one of my favourite characters. Shin Hyun Been did a good job at portraying her as a straightforward but innocent Resident, who is pretty much openly crushing on Jeongwon. The scenes they had together were adorably awkward (and the scene where he gives her chocopies omg) And when Jeongwon battles his inner conflict to become a priest, the final decision where they kiss was beautifully shot, with the actors both showcasing their emotions extremely well.

Then we have Chihong who pursues Songhwa, his professor. Midway through the drama, it is also shown that Ikjun and Songhwa might have had romantic feelings for each other. Songhwa ends up rejecting Chihong’s confession. In my opinion, Chihong was quite a interesting character but I didn’t really like him at the end. (I like the actor though) He did a real jerk move during drinking games, insisting on Ikjun to confess his feelings towards her even though he is already trying not to put Songhwa in an awkward spot. Although his character did end up making a cool exit and when I thought about his incredible story of soldier to doctor, I kinda regret disliking him that much. As for IkSong, In the final episode Ikjun confesses to her one last time, and we are left waiting for Songhwa’s reply. As much as I love this pairing, I don’t think that the ship will sail or maybe not as quickly as we think. I believe Songhwa would meticulously consider the sacrifices to their friendship or other aspects and might not be able to bring herself to it, but I hope it’s otherwise.

Lastly not forgetting Seokhyeong and Minha, another Professor+resident pairing. This one’s a bit ambiguous though, mainly because there hasn’t been much romantic development. To me, the most impactful scene came from Minha who had been irritated by continuous night shifts and was on the verge of a breakdown. She ended up remarkably saving a patient, starting off surgery on her own for the first time. Oh man Minha was such a lovable character, I remember feeling so bad for her but extremely proud of her for her accomplishment. Although Seokhyeong seemed a bit aloof and distant (which was intentional bc he’s an introvert) I think the backstory and all the hardships he faced with his family really made me feel for him. I hate to break it to you, but I’m not so sure if the ship will sail because of the phone call from his ex-wife and Minha’s somewhat rejected confession. But who knows, they might pull off a twist 👀

Apart from all these characters, there are more characters HHAHAH However, I think this is the killing point of ShinLee dramas. Unlike typical dramas which usually focuses on a main character and 2-3 side characters, they like to cast a diverse range of actors (especially those from theatre/musicals and lesser known drama/movie actors) while actually give their characters personality or a reason to be there. I’ve seen many dramas where extras or side characters were kind of irrelevant thus making me feel that they weren’t needed to build the storyline, yet ShinLee dramas hit different y’all. Every role, no matter how small, holds significance to the drama. It really seemed like a collaborative work that shows off every actors skills (and not forgetting staffs) and teamwork.

Anyways because there are way too many characters and too many scenes for me to mention them all, I’ll just talk about some honourable mentions heheh

1. Sunbin and Seokmin confession scene (ahh so cute)

I kinda sensed that they liked each other at the start but I didn’t know Seokmin would ask her out on a date at the end. Even though it’s kinda awkward that they are dating and working with each other though (both are in the same department) but hey the confession was cute and awkward and just warm and fuzzy 🥰

2. MAMA ROSA IS THE QUEENN

I think we all (would) love Mama Rosa because she’s a real one ☝️ (probably the coolest mother ever) She’s feisty, hilarious and kind to others. Plus her friendship with Ju Jong Su was just adorable and super wholesome. The scenes where they were supporting one another through tough times and hanging out with each other when they felt lonely always put a smile on my face. Oh and how Mama Rosa treated Gyeoul was extremely sweet. (as well as Seokhyeong’s mother) Despite her tough exterior, she’s a likeable character for being a strong but caring woman.

3. Just Do Jae Hak

I seriously love this guy so muchhh omg he’s so funny

Do Jae Hak has a funny amd clumsy personality, though it’s clear he’s been through a lot and is strong willed person. From admitting his indecisiveness to counselling Jun Wan on his love issues, there’s literally nothing to hate about him.

4. Uju and his dadd

The father and son chemistry between these two is so good omg. The scenes with these two are so adorable and heartwarming (not to mention hilarious) It’s amazing to see how Ikjun cares so much for Uju despite his hectic workdays while going through infidelity issues with his ex-wife. Uju is matured for his age and shows his love and appreciation for his dad too, making their interaction a great portrayal of a healthy family relationship💞

5. the food stealing the show🥘

Who doesn’t love food and when a show has great food scenes? Some of the best scenes are definitely when the 99s gather to eat. It really showcases each character’s personality with the tiniest details as well as highlight warm delicious meals. Just don’t watch this when you’re hungry at 2am in the morning guys you’ll be drooling all over your screens HAHAHA

Of course there are way more aspects, like Hongdo and Yoonbok, Ikjun and Iksun’s pigeon jokes and raps, or Jeongwon drunk crying in the chicken shop with his brother (who was his coach in Reply 1994 when he played Chilbong LOL)

Most importantly, I think it is the themes and messages that you get from the drama that really create such a lasting impression. Not only does it hit you in the feels with the hardships of hospital patients, or the hardworking doctors+nurses who are working long shifts saving lives, it also tackles topics of friendships through the possibilities of platonic and friends-to-lovers relationships. However I think the biggest lesson for me came from Seokhyeong, who learns to live his life doing what he want, with the people he treasures. Although the drama might seem slow at times (mainly because there isn’t really a main plot line/conflict occurring), but this drama would still bring you on a journey where you would laugh, cry and finish the series, begging for season 2 ✌🏻

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kaitoujokerscans · 3 years ago

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The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH4

CW eating disorders: this chapter describes a crash diet.

<4> Silver Heart's Secret

One of Silver Heart's hideouts in Europe. The small house was visited by Hachi on a night several days after Noir had intruded. Since that day, Joker had holed up in his bedroom on the Sky Joker and wasn't coming out. Losing so easily to Noir must have been a shock to him.

Hachi had been leaving meals out in front of his room every day. Joker hadn't burrowed away in his room like this since the last time a game he had been excited for finally released.

"Help yourself, Hachi-kun."

Cookies and tea were placed in front of Hachi, who was sitting at the table. Beside him, Hosshi was munching his favorite konpeito.

"Thank you, Roko-san."

The small white dog who had brought over the tray with his prehensile ears gave him a smile.

Roko was a super dog who had gained extraordinary powers thanks to genetic manipulation. He could speak human language, and he was so intelligent that it was easy to forget he was a dog. He was a full-fledged phantom thief dog, and he often worked alongside Queen on her capers. Queen herself was sitting at the table with Hachi, resting her chin in her hands with a dissatisfied look.

"Roko, get me some too~ Just the tea."

Like Joker and Spade, Queen too was a phantom thief and a disciple of Silver Heart. She called Silver Heart "Grandpa" and lived together with him. She was a pretty girl, dressed in a white and pink costume with her blonde hair bound in twintails. Huge diamond-shaped eyes were set in her fair skin, yet today their shine seemed duller than usual.

"Are you sure, Queen? Shouldn't you eat something soon? We have cookies."

"It's fine, I'll just fill my stomach with tea. I'm so close to my goal." From the sound of it, Queen was on a diet. "Anyway, where'd Grandpa go? Hachi-kun came all the way here..." pouted Queen.

Then Roko pushed a few buttons for the television and changed the channel. "It looks like he's still in the basement."

The basement came up on the television screen. There must have been a security camera set up there. It showed Silver Heart downstairs at his desk fervently studying something. Maybe he was making a new phantom thief tool...

"Did Grandpa stay up all night again? I wish he'd take better care of himself," said Queen, but she wasn't looking too healthy either. It was probably because of her diet, but in Hachi's opinion, he couldn't understand why Queen was so concerned about her figure. He didn't bring it up, however.

If Joker were here, he'd probably ask a bunch of questions like "Eh? Queen, you're on a diet? Why? How many kilos are you trying to lose? Actually, how many kilos are you now anyway?" and would subsequently become rust on Queen's diamond sword. But at the moment, Queen didn't seem to have the energy to swing the great sword she usually wielded, and was instead languishing at the table.

"Augh, I'm so hungry..." she moaned, and was met with a tactless query of "Oh, Queen, are you on a diet?" from the side. It was from Silver Heart, who had been in the basement up until now.

He was clothed in a clean white double-breasted suit and had a cup of tea in his hand. His most distinctive features were his long, straight white beard and his long locks of white hair. He gave the atmosphere of an elegant gentleman.

"Grandpa!"

"Silver Heart-san!"

Queen and the rest looked at Silver Heart in surprise. "Huh? You were just on screen, though..." When they glanced over at the television, the screen cut out with a static buzz and showed an empty basement instead.

"Fu fu fu, this is the improved version of the 'Image Card' I invented. Place it in front of a camera and it'll play fake footage that'll deceive the camera feed. It was only able to show still images before, but now it can play moving images for a short period too!" exclaimed Silver Heart, proudly holding out a few Image Cards.

"Hmm, another new invention?" Queen took a card and examined it with curiosity.

"In any case, Queen, you may be the right age for it, but you shouldn't go on a crash diet. How many kilos are you trying to lose? Actually, how many kilos are you now?"

"......"

Aah, you shouldn't ask that...! But before Hachi could even blanch, Queen threw a knife-sharp glare at Silver Heart. Her colder-than-ice eyes froze Silver Heart on the spot.

"Er, uh.... O-Oh, okay. N-Never mind! Actually, Q-Queen, you don't look any heavier! You practically look as thin as that wilted sunflower we saw recently!" Silver Heart tried to cover himself, but dug his grave deeper with every following remark. Finally, in an attempt to avoid Queen's glare, Silver Heart turned to Hachi. "S-So! How's Joker doing?"

"Well, he's not coming out of his room still. I think it was a huge shock for him."

"Hm, it sounds like it had a major effect on him."

"Joker's not even eating proper meals? Really now..." Queen marveled, staring into space. All she could think about at the moment was food.

"Silver Heart-san, please tell me. Who is Phantom Thief Noir?" Hachi asked, bending forward. Noir had known about Silver Heart. There must have been some sort of connection between the two of them. Hachi had come to Silver Heart's hideout to ask about this.

But when asked, Silver Heart took a sip of tea and answered with a blank look. "Noir's an old friend of mine, why?"

"Huh?" Hachi, Queen, and Roko's eyes widened. "He's your friend?"

"Yes. You know that I used to work as a spy, correct? Noir was a colleague of mine in those days."

"Eeeh!?" The trio exclaimed in surprise.

"Which means this Noir person was also a spy?" Queen forgot about her empty stomach and leaned forward.

"That's right. I was paired with a woman named Purple back then, and we carried out many assignments. Exposing the classified intel of enemy countries, blowing up the factories where weapons were being made in secret, all sorts of missions to protect world peace. But when Purple was on other assignments or when we had more rugged jobs, I paired up with Noir. Working with Noir as a team was tension-free since we were both men, and I enjoyed it in a different way than how I did with Purple. They used to say that when we paired up, there was no mission we couldn't accomplish. I had a friendly, enriching rivalry with him, and he was a lifelong friend!"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. That's why for the life of me I can't figure out why Noir would become a phantom thief and attack Joker." Silver Heart turned his gaze upwards in thought. He didn't look like he was hiding anything. Silver Heart must truly have considered Noir a friend.

"You don't have any idea why Noir-san might have shown up?" Hearing that he was a friend, Hachi appended a "-san" to Noir's name.

"Not in the slightest... But if there's anything Noir's holding against me, it might be from that time when we infiltrated a country called Lachla to eliminate a hidden treasure and I fell asleep. He nearly died that time..."

"I can see why he'd get angry," sighed Roko.

"The hidden treasure of Lachla is an honest-to-goodness crown. I found out about it just recently, so I'm going to steal it soon."

"That's what you wrote your last notice for," commented Queen.

"Besides that... ah!" Silver Heart exclaimed as if he had just remembered something. "Perhaps..."

"What?"

"What is it?"

"When I quit being a spy, in return for the farewell gift he got me, I gave Noir a wallet. He hates lizards, so I put a toy lizard in it as a prank. Maybe he only just opened it up recently."

When he heard this, Hachi fell to the ground. "That can't be it!"

"It has to be something else!"

"He wouldn't steal treasure from Joker-san just over that!"

"Y-You think so...?" Silver Heart was stunned by their negative reactions. "In that case, there's nothing I can think of... I should ask him directly."

"Do you know how to contact him?"

Then Silver Heart laughed and responded proudly. "I used to be a renowned spy, you know? I have plenty of ways to contact my old colleagues. Without anyone else knowing, either."

"Please ask him right away! Joker-san is depressed!"

Hachi pressed him hard, but Silver Heart knit his brows. "What? Right now?"

"...You can't?"

"It's just that today's not quite a good day for it..." Silver Heart stood up discreetly.

"Do you have plans, Grandpa?"

"Eh? No, well..."

Roko caught him casting a sideways glace at the newspaper. "Does it have something to do with the news?" Roko grabbed the newspaper and spread it out. One sheet had a headline reading "Queen of Pandora Makes Courtesy Call".

"Ah..."

"What's this?" Queen took the newspaper and started reading it. "The Queen of the country of Pandora is visiting France.'"

"Isn't this queen Grandpa's girlfriend? What's going on?" When Queen pulled her face out of the paper, there wasn't a trace of Silver Heart to be seen. "Huh? Huh? Where'd you go, Grandpa!?"

Evidently, Silver Heart had bolted off somewhere while everyone else was looking at the newspaper. Naturally, the legendary phantom thief was a master at running away.

"Argh! I wanted to hear more about Noir!"

"Queen-san, are you concerned about Noir-san too?" Hachi asked, curious.

"I mean, the fact that he outdid Joker is a testament to his abilities. He might be able to tell me something about how to beat Joker!"

"Makes sense..." Hachi saw the logic in what Queen had said. She looked like she had more color in her cheeks now despite the empty stomach. Hachi finished drinking his tea and stood up. "I'll be going now. Joker-san might come out of his room soon."

"Okay, bye now."

"Please tell Joker to not think too hard about it."

"Thank you. I enjoyed the food!" Hachi bobbed his head and left Silver Heart's hideout with Hosshi.

Blending in with the dark of night, the Sky Joker floated in the clear sky.

I wonder if he ate his meal... He had prepared Joker's favorite food, curry, today. Hachi fretted a little, before taking a breath. Just then, a voice came from his phone.

"Hachi, I heard everything."

"Eh!? Joker-san!?"

"Sorry, but I listened to what Master had to say using your phone." Joker had evidently tampered with Hachi's phone to listen to the conversation. Joker likewise seemed surprised to hear that Noir was Silver Heart's friend. "So, I thought up a way to get the better of Noir. Using the 'Lachla Crown' that Master mentioned."

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened between Master and Noir, and the crown's been targeted by Master now. It's only natural to assume that Noir showing up at this juncture must have something to do with the crown, yeah?"

"Oh, I see!"

"Now that that's established, let's go. Come back quick!"

"Roger! Ah, there's curry outside your door."

"Eeh, really? You could've told me that earlier!"

While the sound of scrambling came from the other end of the line, Hachi inflated Balloon Gum, picked up Hosshi, and flew up towards the Sky Joker. Internally, he thought about how glad he was that Joker was back to normal.

As he watched Hachi float up from the window, Roko contemplated. "I'm worried about Joker."

"Yeah~ munch munch... I'm worried too~" Queen responded, her mouth full of something. Roko turned around in surprise to see Queen munching on cookies.

"Huh!? Queen, what about your diet!?" Roko asked confusedly, only for Queen to smile.

"I mean, I can't very well fight on an empty stomach. I'll go on a diet some other time. Right now, I want to know more about Noir."

"You want to know more... but do you have anything to go off of?"

"It's simple. The easiest way is to ask someone who knows about Grandpa's past."

"Someone who knows his past...?"

As Roko gave her a blank look, Queen grabbed all of the cookies left on the plate and stuffed them into her mouth. "Munch munch... Aah! Cookies taste so good after restraining for so long!"

#kaitou joker #light novel

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ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Note

if you ever get in the mood to write anything take it back part two would be lovely😉 only if you’re okay with it of course

Y’all the sheer amount of requests I’ve gotten for this..🤯 Idk what exactly you want because it felt pretty complete to me but you win lol here it is.

take it back: pt. 2

***

He’s always an early riser. You love that about him. Productive and motivated almost to a fault, Grayson Dolan can always be counted on to answer his phone at the ripe time of 7:45 AM.

So when your 8:13 AM call goes to voicemail, your stomach drops.

Granted, it did ring all the way through; he could be sleeping, or working out, or...busy.

But he always manages to answer for you. Even if he’s huffing for breath in-between sets, or barely cognizant of where he is or what time it is after an afternoon nap, you can usually count on his deep voice to be on the other line of that phone.

You feel incredibly vulnerable and somehow more exposed than ever as you lie naked under your covers, just as you were when he left a few hours ago. A gaping part of you left in the open with his potential rejection. Just as you had probably done to him in the early hours of the morning.

Your heart joins your stomach, and you can’t stop yourself from typing out a text to cover yourself.

Did you make it home ok?

You toss your phone with a frustrated sigh to the side of the bed and draw your covers up to your nose. The empty space is vast and cold and makes your throat tighten.

Your phone buzzes, and you snatch it up. A snap from your best friend.

Instagram notifications.

A ‘good morning, have a good day’ text from your mom.

Another Snapchat. A work email. More texts from people who don’t have a little strong arm emoji next to their name.

You’re about to try and pull some sort of reverse psychology bullshit on yourself and go take a shower and pretend like you’re not going to expect a reply from him by the time you get out. But then, just as you’ve tossed your blankets and sheets aside, your phone buzzes fatefully.

[Gray💪🏼] Yeah, thanks

Ironically enough, it’s the worst reply you could have hoped for even though it’s the most logical one.

You bite your lip, chewing it worriedly as you continue your trip to the bathroom. Despite the fact that he responded completely appropriately, you don’t think you’re imagining the dryness in his two words. As stupid and ridiculous as it seems, you know Grayson well enough to detect that.

Good.

Are you busy today?

That’s safe enough. Your surge of bravery has dissipated since he clearly chose to ignore your call in favor of texting. You don’t want to scare him with anything as heavy and loaded as “can we talk?”

You lean against the counter and watch the bubbles pop up on the screen.

[Gray💪🏼] Nah not really. I’m tired tho

Fuck. The rejection before the offer hurts. Your eyes prickle stubbornly.

But then you look in the mirror, and your focus is drawn to a couple of distinct purple marks on your collarbone. You finger them delicately, and rather than the annoyance you might have felt with anyone else, your heart warms.

He’s broken yet another rule. And now, so are you — excited and pleased by the evidence of himself he’s left on your skin.

And you remember the thought that prompted this whole thing to begin with. You’re scared, but it’s worth it. He’s worth it.

Your fingers fly. Can I come over? Please?

He takes long enough to reply that your phone screen goes black, and another minute passes before you realize how idiotic you must look standing naked in your bathroom staring at a blank screen. This is the shit about relationships that you don’t like: the fear, the games, the unknowns. It’s almost too much already.

You distract yourself by turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature right where you want it. And when you turn back around, blood pounds in your ears when you see the lit screen through the reflection of the mirror.

[Gray💪🏼] Okay

***

If you’ve ever taken a quicker shower, you don’t remember when. You rinsed the night off for good, barely detangling any knots from your hair before instinctively reaching for one of his sweatshirts to pair with your jean shorts without even realizing it. It hits you as you throw on some eyebrow gel and mascara where your top came from, and you debate taking it off in case he’s upset with you.

You wouldn’t blame him if he were. The mixed signals you had thrown at him last night were inconsiderate to say the least. Blowing him off only to run right back into his arms, but with more clarity to be fair to yourself just a little bit.

You toss your lip gloss on the counter before you can do what you do best and overthink every aspect of this man, and head straight out the door.

When he lets you into his house half an hour later, he looks hesitant and drawn, but not unkind. Flushed fresh from a workout. Muscles glistening familiarly. Hair flopping into his face. It’s all incredibly distracting, but you push those thoughts aside as you smile at him sheepishly and pass through the open door.

“What’s up?” he asks once he’s led you into the kitchen.

You sit on a barstool and chew a piece of skin around your thumbnail as he watches you out of the corner of his eye while he chugs from his hydroflask. His Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, and you look away for a moment to gather your nerve.

“I wanted to...talk,” you manage to spit out. You take your thumb out of your mouth in favor of playing with a leaf that had fallen from the flower vase in front of you. You can’t meet his eyes right now.

There’s a silence long enough that it makes you finally look up at him. He’s staring at you, brow cocked slightly, arms crossed across his broad chest.

“Okay. About what?”

You stare back. His handsome face gives you the confidence and courage to keep going.

“I’m bad at this,” you admit. The leaf crumples in your fingertips. “Talking. Relationships. All of it.”

“I know. So am I.”

You smile, small but grateful. He returns it.

“I told you to take it back. That kiss you gave me, before you left.”

Grayson’s cheeks, having returned to a normal hue in the AC, then pink again. He glances off to the side and clears his throat, a hand running through his messy hair. “Uh, yeah. I remember.”

Your heart disintegrates as much as the leaf in your grasp at the visible proof that you had, indeed, hurt him on some level. But you’re here to make it right. For both of you. In whatever ass-backwards way you can think of to make that happen, because you definitely haven’t thought the words out at all.

“Well... I want — I take it back,” you admit quietly.

The fear and frustration are all worth it when you see the utter look of surprise cross his features. His eyes are grey this morning, one of their many colors and your personal favorite, and they widen almost comically. His pretty pink lips part slightly, his fist clenching on the counter for a brief moment.

But then he has a few seconds to process your confession, and your heart skips a beat when you see the corner of his mouth turn up enough to expose a dimple. “You take back your ‘take it back?’”

You bite your lip through your own smile as his grows wider, and you nod. “Yeah. I do.”

“Why?”

You hadn’t expected that. But shockingly, it’s the easiest part of this whole ordeal.

You reach your hand out and wrap your slim fingers around his thick, calloused ones, gripping them tightly. “Because. You’re you. And I’m happiest when you’re around, no matter what activity we may or may not be doing.”

He laughs, and you tug on his hand to indicate you want him to join you without a slab of marble separating the two of you.

“And because you’re the only person I could ever imagine breaking all of my rules for. And if you can forgive me for being such a hardheaded idiot, I’d really like to prove that to you.”

Now directly in front of you, Grayson towers above you. He grins and lets go of your hand to wrap your arms around his waist, then cups your cheeks in both hands. You close your eyes and you sigh at the feel of those giant palms holding you so tenderly, and the urge to run doesn’t affect you even the tiniest bit.

He leans down, until you feel him stop just centimeters from meeting your lips with his. Your lashes flutter open confusedly, only to see those eyes looking at you with an affectionate expression you’ve never let yourself consider too deeply until now.

“If you really want to take back your take it back,” he whispers, his breath fanning against your sensitive lips and making you shiver, “then come and get it.”

Your whole body heats at his words, and you giggle before throwing yourself completely into his arms and crushing your lips together. He chuckles too against your mouth, and shifts his hands under your ass so you can wrap your legs around his waist, your kiss heated and sincere but also playful.

“Can I take all of you back?” you ask him once you’ve pulled away for a moment, playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

You’re so caught up in his face that you’re unaware that he’s moving the two of you down the hall until his bedroom door shuts quickly behind him with his swift kick.

“All of me, baby. All of me.”

#like i said hope this satisfies whatever need yall had for this pt 2 lol #dolan twins #grayson dolan #blurb #g blurb

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mrwinterr · 4 years ago

Text

3AM

Pairing: Leo West x Female Reader

Summary: You should go home, but you always end up in his room and this time he isn’t letting you walk away from him again.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual sex, unprotected sex, oral [female receiving], hand job, vaginal fingering, cum play, cock warming and dirty talk). Pillow talk. Language. Angst, I guess. & mentions of alcohol.

Disclaimer: Minor elements of the film Ibiza (2018) are present in this. More like one or two out of context spoilers. It wouldn’t really ruin the movie. You don’t have to watch it to read this.

Title Inspiration: “3AM” by You Me At Six

A/N: I caved. I’ve finally written something for one of Richard Madden’s characters. Personally, I would’ve never watched Ibiza, but it was on Netflix, I was on furlough from my job, and quite frankly Leo West is fucking perfect.

Deep breaths. Deep and calculated breaths. For some reason you paid more attention to your breathing when inebriated. Your eyelids felt extra heavy as you struggled to not only keep them open, but also your line of vision straight. The pores of your body were seeping out sweat from the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed. The air was stuffy, and you kept sniffling.

You wanted to blame the last part solely on the alcohol too, but you couldn’t escape the real reason that drove you to spend hours at a bar in the first place. Historically speaking, you liked to enjoy yourself, maybe a bit more than others, and while it was reckless, that lifestyle introduced you to one of your favorite things on this planet. It wasn’t the drinks, the substances or the sex, but a humble, very talented now turned international superstar DJ.

It led you to Leo West.

It was at a small, dark club on a busy weekend. You were closing in on finals week and what better way to de-stress than a night out on the street. Your friends opted for this particular joint because of the aesthetic, but you didn’t care about its appearance. It was a bar nonetheless, the place always catered to live music and you loved that.

You remembered how puzzling it was to not see the usual instruments, like that of a guitar or a drum kit or a set of keyboards or even a lone microphone stand on the makeshift stage that had one dimmed spotlight. Instead, there was just a table with a case, a laptop, a turntable and a pair of headphones displayed on top of it. Oh, and lots of wires and buttons and knobs everywhere!

Great. A wannabe DJ was scheduled tonight that would most likely go overkill on the bass and damage your eardrums. You weren’t drunk enough to stick around for this, so you walked back to the bar, hoping if you got a few more drinks in you then maybe the “DJ” wouldn’t sound as bad as you were expecting.

Claiming a spot, drink in hand, your eyes started scanning the small capacity crowd until they locked on a man and his path up to the stage and behind the setup. The intro music he picked out started playing, but it fell deaf on your ears. And your whole world just stopped when he looked up, the first of many “performer-to-audience” eye contact that night. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off you each time he looked into the small crowd. It all but allowed you a better look at him.

He wasn’t as defined back then, the t-shirt hung loose on his body, but he was still built nicely. His hair was curlier, definitely didn’t have the money to have it styled and cut or dyed, no trace of the signature gray streak in the front, nor was it maintained like it was now. He was very handsome. And his voice, when he spoke into the microphone clumsily, your heart melted. He wasn’t from here, and you wondered how the world brought this cute, awkward guy all the way from Scotland here to you.

When his set ended, he appeared next to you at the bar ordering a drink. He looked over at you and smiled sheepishly. He was adorable. You were done. You were always a confident person, and you mentally cursed yourself for even feeling like this. You didn’t do serious relationships. There just wasn’t any time for one in your life right now. You were young, still are, and the only thing you’d wanted from anyone was a distraction here and there.

He told you his name. You told him yours. He commented on the necklace you were wearing. You complimented his set. You even teased him about seeing him trip over one of his wires. He thought no one was paying attention, but you were. The two of you talked and talked until last call and the bartenders were begging you both to leave so they could close up shop.

That led you to his place. You learned he’d transferred from overseas to study music and was looking to break out in this country. He wanted to make it big time. You admired him for that. Then there you were pathetically telling him your small-town goals, it seemed dull compared to his, but Leo never wanted to make you feel that way as his words assured you that they weren’t and only encouraged you further.

The attraction wasn’t lost between you two either. You didn’t go home that night. You stayed and what was supposed to be one turned into many nights tangled in one another. You frequented his bed often to the point it looked official to everyone - except it never was. Leo made it loud and clear he wanted to be with you, but you kept bypassing his proclamations. He became none but a standby in your haze.

He just made it too easy to feel. With him everything was easy; not a care in the world, just you and him. It could and should be just that - easy - but your heart and mind didn’t ever make it that way for you. They wanted two different things. Your heart wanted Leo, but your mind said it wasn’t worth it.

He’d make it big one day, no doubt about that. He got good each and every set you saw him put on. He’d travel more, settle in a much more exciting area, find someone who could commit and keep up with his new life. You knew it wouldn’t be fair to have Leo wait around for you to change, but getting your shit together was something you had to do at your own pace.

Once you graduated and his advancements were becoming a bit more serious, you started to turn a new leaf. You did it to be a better version of yourself for him because he deserved it that much, but he always claimed he wanted you – whatever version he could have. At least that’s what he had you convinced of up until you saw him lock eyes and signal over to another girl in the massive crowd several hours ago.

What the fuck? That was your whole reaction. How could he? He always said no matter how big the numbers he played, he’d always and only see you. He didn’t look anywhere else besides her during the set, well you didn’t care anymore because you left after seeing them walk to the back. Did he not mean a single word he said to you? All those nights in bed, was it all just pillow talk? Figures. You didn’t want to get upset because you let it come to this.

In that moment, you just couldn’t forget all the pretty lies. You’re mindlessly scrolling through the messages on your phone, until your blurry eyes see his name and the distinct emoji assigned next to it. Based on the thread, you thought you were both heading towards the same page. It shouldn’t have been this complicated. Now all that’s left is yourself staring down at an old text message he sent, no longer wondering if he really meant any word of it. It hurt. It really fucking hurt.Your mind was proven right and now your heart paid the price.

“Miss? We’re here.” You pick up your head that was slumped against the side of the cab window and nod in acknowledgement.

You stuff your phone in your purse, pay for your fare, stumble along the stones of the pavement, on the steps of the complex and into the elevator up to the highest floor. You stare at the numbers on the door, hoping they’d line up and still, before you slip the spare key card into the slot and barge right into the suite.

You walk right out of your heels, and on your path to the glass doors and window, you aimlessly toss your purse over the expensive couch, and expertly reach for the zipper behind your back, dragging it down along the dress you were wearing, allowing it to pool at your ankles only for you to kick it away soon after. Forget the fact that you splurged a bit more than usual on it in hopes for a celebration of some sort.

When you stepped outside, you headed straight into the hot tub that also provided an overlook of the city. As you slowly descend neck deep into the hot water, you close your eyes and lean your head back on the edge, feeling the muscles in your body begin to loosen up. The jet streams of the hot tub that caused the bubbles collided headfirst with your back, and a taste of the midnight air in your face, all offered you only a temporary high. You used to think the hot tub was a bit too much at the time, but now you were basking in it.

For a moment you think you could just pass out right there, when you hear him say your name from behind. Your eyes flutter open and you hear the floorboards lightly creek with the thuds of his heavy footsteps as he makes his way to sit on the edge of one side of the rectangular tub. You don’t dare divert your eyes over in his direction just yet.

“It’s 3 a.m.” Leo states; an all too familiar scene for the both of you, and even though you’re not looking at him you can hear the concern in his voice. You roll your eyes at the obvious, not giving a damn if he saw, and then at the idea of him being concerned about you.

He senses the discomfort in the air and is hesitant in choosing what he should say next. He hated being on your bad side and judging by your demeanor you were mad. “You should probably go home,” he suggests after getting no response from you.

Only when he moves to get up and fetch a nearby towel, you turn your head and speak, “Why? Is she here?” It meant to come out as casual, but it came out more spiteful.

The muscles of his back contract and he visibly tenses at your cold tone. “What?” Leo questions, turning his head to look over his shoulder.

“I saw you!” You say, sitting up straight and getting ready to step out of the tub.

Leo is quick to assist you as he his entire body spins around, a rolled up towel in hand, “You’re not thinking straight-” he says and attempts to cover you up, but you snatch the towel from him and help yourself out of the tub. Water sloshes around as Leo puts his hands out, eyeing your every move the whole time in fear of you slipping and falling.

He follows you back into the suite and calls out your name again, but hearing it flow out of his mouth in his voice starts to hurt more and more.

“I’m not fucking blind, Leo!” You shout, whipping around and with your hands out in frustration.

“Shh! Please. The neighbors are sleeping!” He pleads, grabbing you by your wrist bringing them in and pulling you close to him. Your face is almost nose-to-nose with his, but you lean your head back just slightly in defiance.

“I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.” You say in a more indoor friendly volume, emphasizing each word, effectively letting him how mad you still were. The close proximity gives him a whiff of the alcohol on your breath. You were drunk. He thought you’d stopped this destructive habit.

“I don’t get you,” he says barely above a whisper. It wasn’t meant to come out, but his thoughts always left his mind around you.

“Me?” you ask quizzically, noticing the strong look of confusion etched all over his pretty face, “I don’t get you, Leo,” you couldn’t hold it in anymore, “you begged me to come watch your set tonight,” pulling one of your wrists out from his grip, poking a finger at his chest.

“You said you were busy with work-“ he says then grabbing the loose hand stabbing at him in his larger one.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you explain, voice cracking under it all, “I didn’t think it was going to work because you said,” the atmosphere grows thick and you struggle to speak, “you said no matter how big of a crowd you were playing that you’d always see me, but you didn’t.” You always had a pretty good idea that Leo would wait for you, but when he failed to spot you tonight, you really thought you’d lost him for good this time.

Then he understood why you were upset. You saw him make signals to another woman and take her backstage, where all he was trying to do was help the poor girl and tell her she had a penis drawn on her face with a black light marker. He never saw her again after that. All that did was paint the wrong picture in your eyes.

Leo looked down, breaking the intense eye contact. It was probably best he didn’t see the tears in the corner of your eyes that were threatening to fall, but he didn’t cast his gaze away fast enough as they ran down in streaks, staining your face. He just didn’t know where to start.

You had been there for him tonight. He’d been really happy lately, especially when you started responding and returning his gestures. He thought he was finally going somewhere with you. And here you are, revealing you’d sacrificed and made time to see him play and he didn’t even see you. That led you down to a bar and into an old habit you’d gotten rid of lately, but he just threw you back into the pit unintentionally.

“I should go home,” you say, defeated and breaking away from him. You wipe at your face, trying to clear the make-up that was out of place and turn to pick up your discarded dress off the floor.

“No, don’t. Don’t leave me,” Leo says frantically reaching out for you. Another act within the all too familiar scene; he always hated this part and seeing it replay over and over. All those times you walked out, scared of something, he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He stumbles a bit as he manages to grab your arm to turn you back and face him. You brace a hand on his strong chest preventing yourself from crashing right into him.

Deep breaths. Deep and calculated breaths. You’re counting not yours but his breaths this time. You can feel his heart racing as you stare at his plump lips, parted and each exhale fanning against your face. His hands come up to cradle your face; and while alcohol had its way with making parts of your body feel numb, you always felt his touches. It was the best feeling.

Leo was always transparent with you and was nothing short of it in this moment as he crashed his lips into yours. He’d never been as desperate than he was now. The grip on your face was secure, hoping you wouldn’t attempt to escape again. He didn’t have to worry though because you were tired of fighting it. You’d bare yourself to him.

Your arms wrapping around his neck let him know you weren’t going anywhere this time, and he was able to let one hand reach down between your bodies to remove the towel. His touch sends shivers throughout your body as you rub up against him; your soaked undergarments leave a wet imprint on his dry clothes. His hands travel down to your thighs, giving it a light squeeze, signaling for you to jump up.

He carries you to his bedroom, lips never parting, until he has you lying down on the massive bed. He kisses you all over - your neck, collarbones, between your breasts, down your naval, hip bones, and the insides of your thighs - each kiss feels like a drug shooting through your system.

Leo tests the waters by pressing a finger to your clothed core and upon seeing the slight jolt of your hips, it gives him all the encouragement he needed to tug the damp article of clothing down your legs. He spreads your legs a bit further apart, pressing them down against the mattress, enough room for his burly body to settle between them.

His tongue darts out to your clit and you suck in a harsh breath of air at the contact. Each running pass of his tongue has you squirming, he has to use both of his hands to keep you still. The vibrations of his moans wreck all throughout your body as he sucks on the bundle of nerves.

Your hands wildly reach out in front of you, messing up his short hair, you need something to hold onto. Leo offers one hand, lacing your fingers together, yours more of a death grip in his. It only loosens when he suddenly stops.

You pick up your head that had dug deep back into the pillows to see why. You groan at the sinful sight of seeing his mouth glistening in all its glory - doused in you. Leo comes back up to level himself with you; both sets of eyes pulled together like magnets. He steadies himself with one hand above your head and the other grabs a hold of your leg, keeping them open for him, so his hand could find a clear path to your pussy.

Your slick makes it easy for him to slip his thick digits in you. Leo revels in the look on your face contorted in pleasure he is bestowing upon you. He inwardly groans at the snug grip around his fingers as he slowly pushes them in-and-out; the filthy, lewd noises only further cause his blood to rush fast down his body.

You start rocking your hips, your clit brushing past his palm with each thrust up. With a curl of his finger, he finds the spot and it's confirmed when you wrap a hand around his wrist to keep it there.

“That’s it, huh, baby?” Leo asks knowing full well he’s found the trigger, “that’s...your...spot,” and with every word his finger sinks in deeper and deeper. There’s a feral look he’s sporting, and you let out a whine in response, your fingernails puncturing his skin.

“You know what to do,” his voice turns rugged, “you know what to do, baby girl,” his fingers working faster, “come on my hand,” his forehead, sweaty, pressing against your own, “you can do it,” his soulful eyes burning a hole through yours when you finally come for him.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls against your lips. You start clawing at his white t-shirt, but it’s fitted so well, you start wrestling with the fabric to get it over his head. He chuckles lightly at you as you pout at him. He kisses the space between your eyebrows and sits up removing his shirt on his own; his bottoms follow ensuite.

You admire the expanse of his toned body for a brief moment before you pull him down back on you. Your teeth tug at his luscious lower lip then suck at it. Leo chases your tongue with his own, engrossed by your lips he’s not prepared for when you sneak a hand in his boxers and grab a hold of his length. He moans into the kiss at the contact and slides his boxers all the way off, giving him a full show of your fingers wrapped around his hard cock. You watch as he swallows the knot in his throat when your thumb swipes across at the bead of pre-cum leaking from the head.

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he says encouragingly as you start stroking him at a pace only you know he loves, “you see how good you make me feel?” It’s a question that doesn’t require an answer. He was hot and heavy in your hands and you wanted nothing more than a taste, so you switch hands bringing the sticky one up to your mouth giving your palm a broad lick as you try to lap you all of what was left of him on your skin.

His jaw visibly ticks as he watches the whole thing. You bring your wet hand back down and resume jerking him off. His breathing increases and you know he wants to cum when he involuntarily starts thrusting back, but he had other things on his agenda as he gingerly pushed your hands away.

“I wanna...inside you,” he says, still very much short of breath, this version of him only made you more wet.

“Please,” you beg, feeling his cock slide up and down your pussy, prepping him with your slick. You never begged, but for some reason you got scared that this would all end in an instance.

You let out a big sigh of relief when he pushes in and fills you up to the brim. Your eyes widen at how his cock stretches you out to accommodate his size. You feel close to bursting at just being able to feel all of him, as he stilled in you, feeling every ridge and vein. He takes a moment to himself, studying the way your body reacts to his. He’s reeling in on the warmth you provided his cock and more so his heart. You made every part of him swell up.

With a long and heavy drag out, Leo begins to thrust back in deep and slow, only increasing when he feels your hips start to retaliate back against his. He knows the pace you like it at.

“Fuck!” You yelp feeling the tip of his cock probe at the right spot.

Leo loops an arm around from beneath you, and at first you think he’s trying to bring you in closer by the hips, but instead he flips over, so you’re now settled on top of him. You support yourself with both hands on his pecs, fingers lost within the hair that sprinkled his chest, then you start grinding your hips deliciously over his. He helps you set a new rhythm with his hands on your hips. You watch as he bites his bottom lip and just the sight alone makes you want to come again.

He sits up, bracing one arm behind him for support, while the other pushes you slightly back, you have to use both hands to support your upper body, but this new position allows you both to get a good look at your bodies connected. Eyes both glued at his cock buried deep in you, you rotate your hips and moan when you feel his cock scratch along your inner walls with each swivel.

“That’s right, you know how to make me feel good...fuck, yes,” he praises then places a thumb to start rubbing circles over your sensitive clit, causing your thighs to clamp up, “that’s it baby, work that pussy on this cock...it’s all yours, beautiful.”

Once he has a good upright position, he uses his other hand to undo the clasp of your bra. He has a hard time trying to rid you of the confines, so you maneuver and sink down back on him and do it yourself. He uses both hands to pull the straps down your arms before bringing your body flush against his and reclaiming your lips.

You let out a sigh as his lips travel down your neck to your breasts, groping one and sucking on the other. Your hands find purchase in his dark sweaty locks as he pistons his hips up hitting deeper.

You pull his face away from your chest and you take note of his glossy eyes, the sweat buildup on his hairline, the creases on his forehead, his swollen lips and you’re in complete awe of just how handsome he’s always been. Leo brings a hand to your face, thumb brushing away the stray tear that escaped your eyes. You slightly turn your head in his palm so your lips can capture his thumb. The same one that was just mere moments ago rubbing circles on your clit.

Leo gasps at the sight, your eyes close from the burst of flavor of yourself on his salty digit. Your hips work harder and your thighs begin to ache. It shows, so Leo starts to pick up on the slack.

“Leo-“ you call out his name after a particular sharp thrust, your labored breathing makes it hard to voice out your desire, but he knew you were close and so was he.

His hands grope your ass as he brings your hips down hard against his, you feel the hairs on his lower abdomen rub against your clit, effectively adding on to the impending sensation.

“Come on, baby. You can do it,” his fingers would definitely leave marks your skin, but you don’t mind it because yours claw at chest, “come on my fucking cock...show me how good it feels, pretty girl.”

You shut him up with a bruising kiss and soon he’s swallowing your moans as your body starts to quake, pussy clenching tight around him. You keep your hips grounded in place when you feel the throb of each spurt of his cum that shoots deep inside you.

Both of you part your lips from one another for some needed air. You’re still experiencing a bit of an aftershock as your walls continue to contract around his cock.

“Ride it out, baby, use my cock,” he says against your lips, and assisting you with small movements up and down his cock, “that’s it. You got it. Fuck, I love you. I love you so much,” he says, wrapping his arms around your body.

Your body falters against him when you don’t fail to notice that he’s started slipping the L-Bomb in his praises. Leo feels drops of water hit his skin and when he opens his eyes, he notices your body shaking still – you’re crying.

“Hey,” he says cradling your face again, “what’s wrong?” He pulls back to inspect your body and see if you were hurt in any way.

You brace his face in both your hands to stop his eyes from wandering from anywhere else but your face. “Did you mean it?” You ask, unable to control the downpour of tears.

Leo stops moving and immediately understands what you’re asking. You’re asking if he meant it when he said you were the only one he’d ever notice. You’re asking if he meant it when he said he’d wait for you. You’re asking if he meant it when he said he loved you.

“Every word,” he confirms.

Overjoyed, you press your lips together in a tight smile, and let the rest of your tears fall. He lets you rest your head on the crook of his neck as he rubbed soothing patterns on your back in attempts to calm you down.

When you do, you pull away and finally say it back, “I love you too, Leo West. I’ve always been in love with you,” and watching the big smile on his face was almost enough to cure you.

He meticulously pulls out of you, slight signs of his cum seeping out and running down your thighs, and helps you off him. You both settle down on the bed, bodies parallel, both on your sides, silently staring at one another. You absentmindedly brushing the gray lock of hair away from his forehead.

“Nothing happened with her,” Leo says breaking the comfortable silence. He wanted to bring tonight to attention because he meant it when he told you previously that he doesn’t bring anyone back home. You almost forgot about tonight but are still relieved to hear him put to rest any suspicious thoughts.

“I’m scared,” you admit. The first step had been admitting you had loved him back this whole time, but you still had to face the fact that you both were on two different schedules and you feared the worst it wouldn’t work out.

“Come with me,” he proposes.

“What?” You ask completely taken back at the offer.

“Come on tour with me,” he says a bit more specifically.

You’d already proven you were willing to drop work for him by showing up at his gig tonight, but were you willing to leave your old life behind to follow his?

Then the biggest smile on Leo’s face confirms everything when you respond, “okay.”

A/N: Leo West is so precious! & for the record, I too would drop everything to follow him. Lol. I may write more Richard Madden fics, idk yet. Please let me know if you liked this or what. Thanks for reading!

#mrwinterr writes #richard madden imagine #richard madden smut #richard madden fanfic #richard madden x female reader #richard madden x reader #richard madden x y/n #leo west imagine #leo west smut #leo west x reader

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poliel · 4 years ago

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Surprise Egg 13/13

Unfortunately, no matter how tired one was, waking up was an inevitable eventuality. If one didn’t die in their sleep anyway. So perhaps Buddy should be thankful to be waking up even it was to a strange beeping sound and… that distinct hospital smell.

With a groan they opened their eyes to see that… yep, they were in lying on a hospital bed in a hospital room. It certainly wasn’t their first time waking up in such a location but it was their first time waking up in one while attached to what seemed to be a full suite of life support and monitoring machines. Because that’s what the beeping sound was: a heart rate monitor. There was also an IV and other things they weren’t quite sure the purpose of. Ugh, they’d only just woken up here and they were already tired of it and wanted to go home.

They shifted their paws up to try to push themself up but… nope. Even just moving themself to attempt it hurt too much to be worth it and thus they didn’t even really try. If they had to they could force it but while their pain tolerance was high and level of stubbornness even higher, they didn’t have any desire to when there was nothing worthwhile that could be gained from it. And having discovered how far they could push their body before it quit on them they would rather not do so again, especially so soon.

Thankfully as was often the case in such scenarios, it wasn’t longer before a nurse found their way to their bedside. Buddy didn’t give them a chance to say anything before speaking themself. “What happened? How did I get here? And where are my friends?” The last thing they remembered was asking Eggabell if they could take a nap and her encouraging it. Clearly quite a bit had happened between now and then. “Oh and uh… how long was I out for?” That was always something one should when waking in such a location.

The nurse hesitated for a moment, looking down at their clipboard and then back up at Buddy. “You arrived here three days ago. According to your friends you were unconscious for at least two days prior, probably a bit longer. You got here on an airship your friends landed on our roof. They’re all now in their own rooms being observed and where applicable taken care for their own health issues.”

Feeling even more addled than they had back on the island, it took Buddy a few seconds to parse though the meaning of all that. If any of the Snaktoothers hadn’t made it off the island surely that would’ve been mentioned, right? Hard to say for sure but for now they were going to operate under that assumption and hopefully confirm it later.

First, their story. Given the whole snakification thing there was no way word of this event hadn’t gotten out already. How much had everyone already revealed about the bugsnax? Hopefully not much because it was their story to tell! … “May I borrow a phone please. I need to call my boss.”

That earned a heavy disapproving frown from the nurse. “You should be resting.”

“I know and I will but… it’s important.”

“No.”

“Well… can I talk to my friends then?” Surely they would help them contact Clumby and get this whole thing started. Filbo certainly would at least, right? Because he should know what this meant to them. “I also need my pack.” They couldn’t start properly writing their story without it.

“Later. First, since you’re finally awake, there’s some things we need to handle.”

Ugh, hospitals were the worst. But if they cooperated it’d be easier for everyone and should win them some points with the nurses that would hopefully help them later.

Buddy must’ve fallen asleep again at some point because they were waking up again despite not particularly wanting to. They had important stuff to do though so they blinked open their eyes.

“Buddy, you’re awake!” Seated by their bedside, Filbo took their paw gently between both of his. “How do you feel?”

“Eh, I’ve felt worse. But uh… better now that you’re here.” They winked at him, squeezing his paw a little as they tried to pretend like the monitor wasn’t betraying their heart rate going up slightly because Filbo was holding their paw and smiling at them. But it was really good to see him. Mostly anyway. He was still snakified and Buddy now knew what that meant and… it was their fault. They’d fed him parasites for months.

Before they could go any further down that rabbit hole of unpleasant thoughts though Filbo squeezed their paw slightly. “I’m so glad you’re finally awake. I was… worried.” His expression sorrowed for a bit before he was smiling at them again. “I brought your pack with your camera and stuff in it. I figured you might want it.” He really was the best, huh?

“Awesome. Thanks. And uh… you think you could get me a phone. I need to call my boss and tell her I’m working on the story.”

“Uh… I don’t think I’d be allowed to. And while you were unconscious, we had all decided that we were going to keep the bugsnax secret ‘cause they’re dangerous and stuff. But uh… we kind of failed at that already. To be fair I did land us on the roof of a big hospital in the middle of an important city. So a lot of people saw us all snakified and you still had Sprout in your pouch so… that was a thing we had to deal with. We didn’t tell anyone anything specific though. All the newspapers and stuff are just circulating rumors and stuff. So… the full story coming out is gonna be from you since you have more right to tell it than anyone else if it’s doomed to come out at all. You have to promise to take it easy and slow though or I won’t let you work on it at all.” He gave them the sternestlook Buddy had ever seen on his face before. It was certainly well deserved though so…

“Yeah, okay. I promise to be good.” And they kind of owed it to him to listen to him after all the times they hadn’t before leading this moment. Speaking of everything leading to this moment though… “Everyone made it off Snaktooth, right?” They still needed confirmation on that.

Filbo nodded. “Yeah. Everyone’s okay.”

“Good.” Knowing that made them feel better for sure. “Now uh… about writing my story?”

Filbo gave them another firm look. “Later, after you’ve rested a few more days, please.”

“Fair enough.”

Being bedridden was the worst. Especially since they weren’t allowed to start writing their story yet. The only thing that kept them sane was Filbo staying at their bedside pretty much as much as the nurses would let him.

They were allowed additional visitors too occasionally. Even Gramble was eventually allowed to leave his own room and come see them.

“I brought Sprout too,” was the first thing he said after they’d exchanged greetings with him and Wiggle.

“He’s still attached to it for somereason.” Wiggle didn’t even try to hide her disapproval over it as Gramble pulled Sprout’s buggy ball out of his pouch.

“One little bugsnax ain’t gonna hurt no one. And he rarely leaves the buggy ball so it’s fine. And he still follows the pointer so… he’s different, I think. Since I could never train any of the others no matter how hard I tried. Anyway, here he is.” He held him up for Buddy to see. “He’s only here because you were carrying him in your pouch for so long all of us forgot about him so I figured you might want to see him.”

Buddy lifted a paw in a gesture for Gramble to hand the buggy ball over. He did so without complaint or hesitation. They placed it on their middle, holding it in place with a paw on top, as they peered inside. Sprout was just hanging out inside, looking around and doing a whole bunch of not looking the least bit like how one would think a parasite should look. He was far too cute, especially when he went nuts for the laser pointer. … People kept potentially dangerous pets all the time, right? One just needed to know how to handle them safely and properly and it was fine. So… they looked back up at Gramble “Can I keep him? … Or uh, I know you’re still…”

“Sure. Just as long as you let me see him lots too, okay?”

“Of course.” Permission granted, Buddy carefully pushed the buggy ball into their pouch. Immediately they felt strangely a little better, less antsy.

Wiggle scoffed lightheartedly. “Seems like the paternal instinct that would’ve normally gone towards the egg went to Sprout instead. I guess if it makes you happy though, I can’t tell you that’s wrong.”

“He’s a whole lot easier to take care of than an egg though.”

“Not really,” Gramble said. “With an egg all you got to do is keep it warm.”

“Until it hatches and then you have a grumpling you have to take care of and keep alive somehow. So, no thanks. I can barely even keep myself alive.”

“Well,” Wiggle said, giving them a meaningful look, “I don’t think anyone can argue with that.”

They were finallyallowed to start working on their article once a week had gone by and they were doing better. The temptation to push to finish it as fast as possible was there but… they were too tired to really go for it. Not that Filbo would’ve even let them. They lacked the strength to defy him or even try to argue.

Despite everything though they were still good at their job and thus they got it done fairly quickly. After going over it one last time for mistakes or any important details they’d forgotten, they were able to send it Clumby’s way.

Being done with it was a massiveweight off their shoulders. “It’s done! I’m done! I never have to think about Snaktooth again.” They were finally done with that cursed island and never again would they need to think about it. … They would though for sure, it and the unknowing harm they’d caused their friends and Filbo would undoubtedly haunt them. But for now, they were happy to be done with the telling of the tale.

“Congrats!” Filbo said from their bedside.

“Thanks.” They wanted to thank him for everything, helping them and being so awesome but… they were too tired to come up with the words. So their simple ‘thanks’ would have to do for now.

#my writing #bugsnax #filbuddy #filbo fiddlepie #the journalist

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blackjack-15 · 4 years ago

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Are You Poe-ndering What I’m Poe-ndering? — Thoughts on: Warnings at Waverly Academy (WAC)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas (or not links, as tumblr is freaking out with links).

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: WAC, mention of Sabrina the Teenage Witch (the OG live-action show not the horrible CW monstrosity); discussion of the Poe short stories “The Imp of the Perverse” and “The Black Cat”.

The Intro:

It’s time to go to school, y’all — and not just any school; a rich, elite, all-girls school. Welcome to the jungle.

Warnings at Waverly Academy is one of two games that I don’t sort into a category (like “Expanded” “Jetsetting” or “Odd”), the other being the game that follows it (TOT). There are a few reasons for this — the next category really doesn’t apply, but neither does the previous category, WAC and TOT both feature a gradual shift in tone and approach to the games, etc. If I really had to pick a designation, I’d say that these are the “Growing Pains” games, where the world gets a little bit more open — but not all at once, the characters get a little more fleshed out — but not by much, and a few new things are tried with our character rolls — to varying degrees of success.

On the whole, WAC tackles its efforts far better than TOT does, but it does make for a slightly less interesting meta if one was just to focus on what WAC does wrong and what it does right. Instead, we’re going to take a look at how brilliant WAC is tonally and thematically, and how its source material — not kept secret in the game — builds it up and makes it better and better upon replays.

Before I begin, it’s fair to warn you all that my thesis was done on Poe and adaptation theory (and its relevance towards detective novels but I won’t touch much on that part of it), so I might get a bit nerdy. Hopefully it’s still exciting and relatable enough to the game that it’ll make for interesting, rather than academic, reading.

WAC uses Poe’s stories — specifically “The Black Cat” (obviously) and “The Imp of the Perverse” (in my slightly expert opinion) — as thematic (what the game means) and tonal (how the game feels) touchstones, not to mention their inclusion for some of the events in the plot. A brief summary of both is probably important when looking at how they relate to WAC.

“The Imp of the Perverse” is an essay-like short story by Poe that basically states that inside of every person is the desire to do something wrong or incorrect simply because it is wrong or incorrect (not morally, but in terms of self-interest).

In the story, a man commits a clever murder and gets away with it, receiving the inheritance that he wanted from the dead man. The man cannot be caught — there is no evidence of any wrongdoing, let alone any that points to him — unless he confesses. The idea of confessing — not out of guilt, but just because it would be the wrong thing to do — plays on his mind until, driven half-mad with his preoccupation, he confesses and is imprisoned and executed. The titular “imp” is basically a devil on the shoulder who wants what would be worst for our own self-interest, simply because it is the worst.

MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY FOR THE STORY OF THE BLACK CAT. PLEASE SKIP IF THIS BOTHERS YOU.

“The Black Cat” on the other hand is pretty much a proto-“Tell-Tale Heart” — an alcoholic man becomes emotionally distant from his cat (a rare sentence, I know) because he things the cat is judging him for being a drunk; one night in a drunken rage, he cuts out its eye and kills it. A fire catches his home, leaving an imprint of the hanged cat upon the only standing wall.

END OF DIRECT MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY.

The man and his wife move, and he, after a period of guilt, makes friends with another cat — a cat nigh-identical to the first one, even missing an eye. When he (drunk, as per usual) and his wife are walking down the cellar stairs, however, he nearly trips over the cat and becomes enraged, trying to kill the cat, only to be stopped by his wife. He instead kills his wife, burying her behind the wall of the cellar and bricking up the hole.

When the police come by they find nothing, and the cat has disappeared, so the man feels safe. The police come back to investigate the cellar, the man taps on the wall to boast of how well the house is made — only to have horrific screeching start up behind the wall. The police break the wall down and find not only his wife’s body, but the black cat sitting on it as well. The man breaks down, overwhelmed by his own guilt, and the story ends.

END OF BLACK CAT STORY SYNOPSIS.

It’s pretty clear what influence “The Black Cat” had on WAC — not only does the villain name herself after the titular cat, but WAC is also a story of guilt, hidden crimes, and personal weaknesses that manifest in rage towards other innocents.

It’s actually really interesting that Corine takes the mantle of “The Black Cat” up when she begins targeting other valedictorian candidates; the black cat in the story is sort of a symbol of the man’s sin — a reaction to his sins and misdeeds, and sort of a catalyst of justice. This ties into how Corine sees herself — someone rejected and mistreated by those who are “filthy” themselves, and who must then show others the things they hate about themselves.

It’s Corine’s self-identification as a victim that starts all this, and it causes her to victimize others in potentially fatal ways. The black cat stands for guilt, for the sins of others, and yet it leads Corine further and further away from any justness herself.

The story of “The Imp of the Perverse” has a little bit of a more subtle tie-in to the game; in a way, each suspect does exactly what they know they shouldn’t.

Rachel and Kim are obvious — they really shouldn’t switch back and forth so regularly, nor should they be so sloppy at informing the other as to what they did and who they met that day. Leela, who should be studying if she wants to keep her spot in the race, instead passes the time by playing sports. Mel knows that the cloak-and-dagger meetings are to be an absolute secret, yet wears hair bows that she constantly loses to one. Izzy has her future meticulously planned out, yet refuses to back up an incredibly important paper (and also relies on being popular, yet pursues other girls’ boyfriends).

Even Corine falls under this; by targeting Nancy, she’s ensuring that suspicion will fall on her, as 2/3rds of the victims would then be her roommates. She’s also cutting her chances of being valedictorian by not working hard for it and instead relying on other, riskier methods. Every move she makes leads to it being more and more obvious that she’s behind them — and yet, she continues anyway, just like the man in “The Imp of the Perverse” — leading from a few small incidents to attempted murder.

Ignoring WAC’s ties to Poe renders it as a good, solid mystery without anything remarkable about it (other than the pendulum, of course). Exploring its ties to Poe not only helps set up exactly who the villain is, but also sets the tone for the mystery. This isn’t a mystery of Nancy foiling a villain through her smarts; instead, it’s a story about how guilt and a perverse desire for self-destruction leads a once-promising valedictorian candidate to more and more severe crimes, culminating in the exact opposite of what she was working for.

The Title:

It’s pretty awesome, full stop.

Warnings at Waverly Academy is honestly a great title for a Nancy Drew mystery; it gives us location, a sense of the world we’re in (scholastic), and a vague yet not too vague sense of what’s going on. The alliteration is good, the abbreviation amuses me — it’s just solid all the way around.

There’s not much else to say; sure, you could strengthen it by finding a punchier “w” word to begin with, but that’s just quibbling. It’s great, I love it, let’s move on to the Happenings at Waverly Academy (which, by the way, would have been a terrible name for the game).

The Mystery:

Called in as a professional undercover detective, Nancy’s just young enough to hide in plain sight at Waverly Academy, an upper-crust private school for those girls fortunate enough to be both rich and smart (aside from a few scholarship students, who are simply smart). Nancy’s called in due to a few near-death experiences by students, punctuated always by notes simply signed “The Black Cat”. It’s only a few days until break ends, so Nancy must work quickly to stop the sabotage, find the Black Cat, and solve the mystery before anyone dies.

Nancy, as always, finds quickly that not everything is so cut-and-dried. Each valedictorian candidate has the motive, means, and opportunity to get the other girls out of their way, and all have something to lose. Add in a secret society, the threat of demerits from an overly zealous RA, and the sneaking feeling that there might be a greater mystery behind all of these incidents, and you get a case mostly unlike any that Nancy’s had to crack before.

Oh, and Ned is on the phone, serving the player up with the single punch of testosterone in the game (aside from the hunky Mr. Harris, of course).

As a mystery, WAC is honestly super solid. Lots of characters, lots of clues, lots of red herrings, lots of mini-mysteries going on inside of the larger mystery…it’s everything you want from a Nancy Drew game, and it doesn’t really drop any of the balls it juggles. Sure, the pendulum might be a bit much for you if you’re not up on your Poe, but I think it’s a lot of fun, and for sure a very different type of ending puzzle — not drowning or running out of air or any other ending that Nancy Drew games likes to do.

Let’s go to the movers and shakers behind this mystery, then, shall we?

The Suspects:

Mel Corbalis is the fan-favorite character, so let’s start with her in this huge, estrogen-laden cast. Distinctly of the goth persuasion, Mel is a fantastically talented cello player and a Waverly Legacy, despite the fact that no one at school wants to be caught dead near her. She’s not an outcast the way that Corine is, however, because of her simple insistence on being exactly who she is, and not trying to hide or apologize for it.

Go Mel.

As a suspect, Mel is slightly more suspicious than most other girls, on account of Megan being her roommate, but otherwise sits on fairly equal standing with them all. She’s by far the most outwardly aggressive, but also comes across as simply no-nonsense (a welcome thing in any girl’s academy, believe me). She also has the least of Poe about her, despite her taste in fashion, and is in general a breath of fresh wind.

Next up is Leela Yadav, athlete extraordinaire. She sure can bounce that ball, at least. Izzy’s roommate and just as much a social climber (though in less in-your-face ways), Leela wants it all — popular, athletic, and valedictorian. It’s a lot for any girl to handle, much less one who can’t seem to keep it all together.

As a suspect, Leela’s not bad — she’s as even as (most) anyone else throughout the first half of the game, but falls off a bit when Izzy isn’t specifically targeted by the Black Cat (as most of her gripes are against Izzy, particularly). Leela’s more there to increase the number of students and throw suspicion around, but she does a darn fine job of it, and is well-rounded enough to be genuinely enjoyable.

We’d be remiss not to mention the queen bee (and my personal favorite suspect) at Waverly Academy, Izzy Romero. Snobbish, arrogant, and with apparently the smarts and people skills to back it up, Izzy is the first Waverly girl that Nancy (as Becca) meets, and boy does she set the player up for what Waverly is really like. Izzy’s smart enough to know when she should put in the effort and clever enough to delegate it when she can, and that alone endears her to me, even leaving aside her hilarious dialogue and general vibes.

As a suspect, Izzy is the sole girl who really isn’t set up to be much other than what she is — a girl with more than enough smarts to get power, and enough power to pretty much do what she wants to do. Sure, Nancy can catch Izzy doing stuff she shouldn’t do, but she’s never really a heavy-hitter when it comes to the Black Cat stuff. I love her for that, too. She’s a lot like Libby from the original Sabrina the Teenage Witch show; a bit nasty, but hilarious and effectively harmless — and I’ve always liked Libby-style characters.

And her stint in the Blackwood Society is aces too. Man, this girl does not quit.

Rachel Hubbard, is, of course, actually Rachel and Kim Hubbard, and they are the plot point that WAC is most known for. They actually have marginally separate personalities too, with one being far snappier than the other, and having strengths in different subjects.

Part of the reason I love the Hubbard twins so much is that their presence is so...Poeian. Poe was all about duplicity and mirrors, and the Hubbard twins show off both themes. It’s just a wonderful little bit of a nod to the source material (thematically speaking) of the game, and I adore it.

As suspects, the Hubbards aren’t bad at all; they’re lying, sneaking around, and blatantly “forget” what they’ve said to people, all of which adds up to be very untrustworthy. Were it not for Nancy (and Corine) sneaking around, they might have gotten through their Waverly experience without anyone figuring it out — and that’s something to respect, even if it does make them prime targets for blackmail. And speaking of blackmail…

Corine Meyers is both Nancy’s roommate and 100% our villain this time around. Obsessed with becoming valedictorian and knowing she probably won’t get it, Corine basically puts out self-assigned hits on each of her fellow candidates, attempting to get the title by violence rather than by being worthy. She’s even cunning enough to blackmail the Hubbard twins into doing some of her dirty work, throwing people off her scent. Sure, Corine is a rather pathetic (in the non-sympathetic sense) person who I have little respect for, but she does make a good villain in a Poe-ish story.

As a suspect, the game actually makes a pretty good go at not assigning the blame too quickly to anyone, so Corine does manage to hide out in the shadows. Sure, one of the girls who went home was her roommate, but the other was Mel’s, so suspicion isn’t centered right on her. I also love that she’s actually punished for what she does — no amount of sad pictures at the end of the game changes that. Corine actually has the cleverness that CUR tries (but doesn’t succeed) to give Jane, and I think it’s wonderful.

I’m not going to give Megan Vargas or Danielle Hayes their individual chunks, but they are present here as well, standing in as victims so we know that this teenaged effery very nearly had a body count. They really help to give a sense of…well, purposeful disconnection to the game, where the setting and the snow and the fact that these are high school girls doesn’t stop the crimes from being deadly.

The Favorite:

The first thing that I have to say is that I love how the tone and crimes of this game contrast so well with a lot of the games (especially, sorry, CUR). This takes place at a school, your suspects are all teenaged girls…and yet the game doesn’t shy away from how horrific things really are to get Nancy called in. Two girls have nearly died in quick succession from one another, and the girls are going on chasing acclaim. It’s a messed up situation, and the game doesn’t shy away from pointing that out.

These crimes are treated with severity, and the culprit, despite things that might have softened her ending under lesser writers, is punished with total removal. WAC in some ways is a spiritual successor to SCK, in that it takes place at a school, lives are endangered, Nancy is (mostly) undercover, and the culprit is not above killing Nancy messily solely for personal gain. The difference, of course, is that SCK is not done well, and WAC, on the whole, is.

As mentioned above, I have a soft spot for Poeian detective stories, and so I enjoy WAC probably more than I would had they modeled it after, say, Holmesian detective stories instead. The ideas of duplicity, mirrors, guilt, the Imp of the Perverse — the self-destructive tendency to do what we should not simply because we should not do it — these are all present and accounted for in WAC from different girls and facets of the plot (Corine and the secret society both represent duplicity, the Hubbard girls are mirrors, Waverly’s own guilt towards the students it failed, etc.).

My favorite puzzle has to be WAC’s resident cooking minigame, where Nancy prepares hot lettuce sandwiches and definitely underdone cookies to the delight of the gossiping horde. It’s like TRN’s cheeseburger minigame writ large, and every second of it is wonderful — the gossip, the food-making, the unexpected panic of a teacher order — everything. It also helps Nancy keep her head above water, should she be caught sneaking around after hours, and I think that’s great as well.

My favorite moment of the game is when Nancy comes out of the wall in Mel’s room and Mel isn’t having even one iota of her excuses to cut and run. It’s not often that a non-villain will press Nancy so intently when Nancy does something Inherently Untrustworthy, and I think it’s great that a 17 year old girl behaves exactly as one would, demanding an explanation and not letting Nancy wiggle her way out of it. Sheer perfection and the moment, I would guess, that Mel became a lot of people’s favorite WAC character.

I also love everything to do with the Blackwood Society. Nancy goes so…metal there and we really don’t get enough of Metal Nancy. It features one of the few moments of absolutely, unequivocally brilliant voice acting that Lani stumbles upon (the conversation about the bow), and it’s a wonder to behold.

The Un-Favorite:

While WAC certainly has great things about it, it’s not by any means a perfect game. It wouldn’t sit in my top 10, and possibly not even in my top 15, though it would depend on the day. The reasons for this?

A big one is my least favorite puzzle: taking the pictures. It’s a good idea — a gofer quest to help Nancy get to meet each student, talk to them, etc. and make sure no one gets lost in the shuffle (like with what usually happens with Guadalupe in ICE, for example) — and is also great for acquainting Nancy with the Hubbard(s). However, in practice, the interface makes it incredibly obnoxious to do, what with having to retake pictures because the pan or zoom is slightly off, and having to jump around from place to place. It’s a good idea, but could have been implemented far, far more smoothly than it actually was.

My least favorite moment in the game is actually the whole deal with Izzy’s paper being deleted. It’s a dick move — and I have no problem with that, honestly, but the fact that she has no backup is just like…girl, what on earth are you doing where you don’t back up your work.

Adding to that is the fact that even in the far-off yesteryear of 2009, Word autosaves (as did many, if not all, word processors) and a copy definitely would have still been retrievable on her computer, and that the teacher would almost definitely have a previous rough draft or at least outline…it’s a pretty shaky thing to have happen (the not-having, not the deleting), and it does break the game down a bit. I know it’s not that big a deal to most people, but it seriously hampers my ability to stay within the world of WAC and to take the mystery seriously.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Warnings at Waverly Academy?

There’s honestly not too much to do; while not a perfect game, WAC is perfectly solid, accomplishing what it needs to do properly and well, without too many little flaws to mar its reputation.

In other words, it’s a bit like an unsuccessful valedictorian candidate; well-rounded, but not a standout when compared to others that burn a little brighter.

I would, however, re-work the picture task; I’m not sure how you could make it less clunky, mechanically speaking, but it definitely needs it, along with a way to know if it’s a good picture or not before you go through all the effort of going to the library and plugging in the camera. I love the idea — just make the idea work better.

I’d also change the “deleted paper” storyline and go a little more destructive — give the computer an awful virus instead. Sure, her paper is backed up (in 2009, probably on a USB drive, or saved to her email or something), and she has her stuff, but that locks away all personalized notes, study sheets, etc. It’s something that would be pretty damning for a Valedictorian candidate, while also still being firmly in the realm of believability.

And on a smaller note, remove the ability to call Bess in this game. It always goes to voicemail and serves no purpose. Why even include it?

Where WAC really shines is its individualistic approach to each girl and in its permeation of Poeian themes; that’s what makes it special as a game, rather than any of its individual parts. Sometimes, you need to take a break from haunted mansions and carousels and museum thefts and marriage troubles and friends who are always in need of help – and you just need to play a game with gossip galore, hot lettuce bagels, and an actual death-bringing pendulum to round it out.

#nancy drew #clue crew #warnings at waverly academy #nancy drew games #WAC #nancy drew meta #long post #my meta #video games

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

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Bruised, Not Broken - CHP 1

i just realised that i never posted this here?? so here’s my kinda weird Assassin!Bucky x Toni modern AU that came to me in the shower and im still figuring out as a i go along. the first two chapters are done (and out on ao3) so i’ll be posting chapter 2 in like a day or two, but after that - updates will sync up here and on ao3

chapter 1/? || also on ao3

James is just about to fall asleep, can feel his eyelids getting heavier and his body slowing down, when his phone starts ringing on his chest, startling him back to wakefulness. He fumbles for it a couple of times, swiping his thumb over the half-shattered screen and bringing it to his ear.

“Barnes,” he grunts through the phone, and the voice he hears trinkle through the static makes him sit upright. He wasn’t ever accepting to hear from him again.

“James,” the man on the other end of the line says, “I need you to do something for me, and I need you to not ask any questions.”

“I wasn’t aware we were on speaking terms,” James replies carefully, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice, “This must be a pretty big favour.”

“This one isn’t for me,” the man says shortly, “There’s a truck parked in the alley on the corner of 5th and Main. There’s precious cargo inside. I need you to get to the truck and drive it the hell out of town. Don’t look back, and don’t stop for anything.”

“You expect me to uproot my life, and I’m not even allowed to ask what’s going on?” James demands, even though he already knows he’s going to say yes. He wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important, if there wasn’t anybody else who could do this except for James.

“You trusted me once,” the man says, after a pregnant silence, “There was a time when I would tell you to jump, and you would say ‘how high?’. Someone’s life is at stake, so can I count on you or not?”

James surveys his apartment. He doesn’t have a lot of clothes, they could probably all be stuffed in a large duffel bag if he tries hard enough. His plates are all plastic, and there’s some leftover take out in the fridge.

Rent’s due in a couple of days, but somehow, James doesn’t think his landlord will be all that upset if he sees an empty apartment. Or that surprised.

“I can be there in 30 minutes,” James concedes, “I just need to get some stuff together.”

“Bring your guns,” the man says, “and don’t be late.” He ends the call before James can come up with something smart to say in response. He manfully resists the urge to throw his phone against the wall, if only because there are people who still need to be able to contact him; and pushes himself to his feet.

The duffel bag is stuffed under his bed, right next to where the guns are taped, and it’s quick work to get them both out. James takes a couple of seconds to check the magazine in the handgun before stuffing it in the crook of the back of his jeans; and then feels around for the extra clips he knows he has stashed somewhere.

His clothes are strewn all over the one-bedroom apartment, and while James would love to just stuff them into the duffel bag and call it a day - he takes the time to fold each other, smoothing out the wrinkles as best he can. He’s not particularly vain, not anymore anyway - but his Ma drilled into him the need to keep decent clothes, and the Army hammered it home.

Before he steps out of the apartment, he takes a second to look at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing an absent hand over the beard that’s grown over the past couple of months. He debates taking the time to shave but decides against it. He’s going to an alley; appearances don’t matter.

He grabs his toothbrush and places it on top of his clothes, before zipping up the duffel bag and swinging it over his shoulders. He taps on his phone screen to check the time, and he’s got about 15 minutes before he’ll be late. If he walks quickly, he can be there in 10.

James is at the threshold when he takes one last look at his apartment. It’s easily one of the most decrepit places he’s ever lived, even counting his days in the barracks in Afghanistan; but it’s been home for the past four months and he’s oddly loath to leave it.

With a sigh, he pulls the door and jimmies the key into the lock; clicking it shut. He slips the key into the fake plant pot poised outside that Natasha gave him as a housewarming gift, because she thought it would make the apartment homely; and then swings over the railings, bracing himself with his hands when he hits the ground.

His apartment was only two floors from the ground floor, and it’s late enough that there’s nobody around to watch his stunts. Besides, he’s on a clock.

He sees the truck the minute he turns into the alley, but there doesn’t appear to be anybody waiting for him next to it. On instinct, James’ hand rests on his gun, while the other fishes out his phone to make sure he isn’t late.

It’s dark, almost impossibly so, but James’ eyes are used to darker, and they adjust quickly. A quick sweep of the alley confirms his suspicions - that he’s the only one here, and he resists swearing out loud, if only because it will draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Letting go of his gun, he makes his way over to the truck, peering at the back to see if he can make out what the precious cargo is. There’s a bundled-up duvet stuffed into the back of the truck, placed in a way that you wouldn’t even notice it was there unless you were looking for it.

James braces his hands onto the edge of the truck and hauls himself up so that he can get a closer look, walking softly so as to not jostle the cargo. He crouches down when he’s close enough; and with the steady fingers, pulls at the duvet to reveal whatever’s inside.

There’s a girl, no, a woman, who can’t be older than 20, covered in bruises and contorted in an impossible position. James is going to kill him the next time they run into each other; their past relationship be damned. Hesitantly, James brings his fingers to her neck, relaxing slightly when he feels a weak pulse. He checks her eyes next, finger catching on the underside and pulling it down to reveal glazed pupils; almost vacant.

There’s a distinct possibility that if James looks closer at her neck; he’s going to find a tiny puncture wound that resembles a needle. He’s definitely going to kill him the next time he sees him. James might even hunt him down just for the pleasure of the kill.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and redials the last incoming number, shoving it between his shoulder and crooking his neck - leaving his hands free to peel back more of the duvet while he assesses the woman’s injuries.

He picks up after two rings.

“I don’t do this stuff anymore,” James barks, not even giving him a chance to get a word in edgewise, “I don’t take people out. What the fuck have you gotten me into? She looks like she was the punching bag for an overly enthusiastic MMA fighter. You’re going to tell me what’s going on right now, or I promise you, I will hunt you down.”

“So, you opened the cargo,” the man says in a calm tone, so calm that it infuriates James.

“Yeah, I fucking opened the cargo, and I’m telling you right now - I’m not killing this woman. I don’t care who she is, or what she’s done, I’m done with that life. You’ve got some nerve giving me this kind of job.”

“James,” his voice doesn’t waver in the slightest, “James you’re not there to kill her. You’re there to save her.”

James pauses at that, hands stilling from where they were inspecting the cuts around her thighs, “What do you mean, save her?”

“Look I can’t tell you much, because it’s classified; but we’ve had her and her husband on surveillance for months. You have to believe me when I say if I knew what he was doing to her, that he was beating her; that I would’ve put an end to the op. I only found out two weeks ago though, because she’s good at hiding it. Almost too good.”

“So why is she drugged and in the back of a truck instead of at the police station giving her statement?”

The man sighs, the only indication that he is bothered by this, “I was told that the op was too deep, and she was collateral damage. If he killed her, I was allowed to call the police - but anything short of that, I was just supposed to look the other way; and file it for when he was officially charged. They said that if they started him now, that the rest of the case would fall apart, and it wasn’t worth the risk. Not when we were so close.”

“So, you smuggled her out instead,” James surmised.

“If it makes you feel any better, she asked to be drugged. I explained who you are to her as best I could, but she said that she was in a shit-load of pain, and it was more than likely that she would lash out at you on instinct alone; so, drugging her was the best option.”

“Why didn’t she go to the police?” James asks, even though he already knows the answer, “Why do it like this?”

“She said that he had all the local police in his pocket, and if she went - they’d probably just send her back home with a couple of new bruises.’

‘I need her alive,’ he’d said, ‘I need her alive, and well enough to testify when we finally bring down the hammer on her piece of shit husband. Whatever you need to do to keep her alive James, do it.’

He’s been driving for close to six hours now. New York is long gone, and there’s a fair chance that James has crossed state lines. New Jersey was a distinct possibility for a half mile, because nobody worth their salt from New York considers New Jersey a place; but James has more connections in Massachusetts; more people to count on if things go south.

On his lap, the woman stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake. Her head is pillowed on one of his thighs; the duvet covering her up till her shoulders, and she sniffles and moves closer to him; as if chasing his body warmth. Almost on instinct, James reaches out and soothes a hand through her hair, running his fingers against her scalp ever so gently.

She leans into the movement, imperceptibly, and after a couple of minutes of movement; stills again, going limp. Whatever sedatives she’s on must be strong, but it’s clear that if they don’t stop soon; she’s going to wake up and that’s not good for her, or for him.

They’re about an hour out from a motel that James trusts; with an owner who looks the other way for the right kind of money, but he’s worried that she won’t make it that long. When he was moving her from the back of the van, he jostled the duvet, and he knows that she’s got nothing more than a threadbare shirt and her undergarments on. Whatever her situation was, clearly it was bad enough that trousers were too much of a waste; and sedated or not - her body is feeling the effects of the frigid winter air.

“Fuck,” James murmers into the open air, and pulls up on the side of the road. As gentle as possible, he cups his hands under the woman’s arms and brings up to a sitting position; her back resting against his chest. He shifts slightly in the tight spot, shrugging off his jacket and slipping it onto her shoulders.

It isn’t easy tucking her hands into the arms of the jacket without jostling her wounds, but James manages; even though every new bruise makes him want to break something in frustration. His earlier assessment that she was a punching bag isn’t inaccurate, and just from touching her hands, James can estimate multiple fractures around her wrist all the way up to her elbow.

She’s startling beautiful; long brown hair that flows past her shoulders and curls ever so slightly at the end, eyelashes that frame her cheeks and chapped lips with slight teeth indentations; like she bites them a lot. James can’t imagine even raising his voice at her; let alone marking her up the way her husband has - and not for the first time, he curses the fact that he can’t take her to a hospital, or to the proper authorities; who’ll do right by her.

But he can’t, because his job isn’t to get her to the authorities, it’s to keep her alive - and James is going to do it even if it kills him.

tbc

#my writing #buckytony #bucky barnes x tony stark #bucky x tony #bucky/tony #bucky barnes/tony stark #female tony stark #assassin bucky barnes #Bruised not Broken

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serifsans · 3 years ago

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Vladimir walks into Jean-Paul's apartment to find the vaporvolph sniffling while eating homemade frosting out of a bowl. It looks surprisingly good, actually, and Vladimir feels a little rush of pride because hell yeah, his partner-in-crime made something in spite of the fact that they have enormous self-doubt about their ability to create anything worthwhile. Paulie usually doesn't attempt anything more complex than (vegan) eggs and maybe pancakes if they're feeling daring. JP considers their ability to order out a sign they've not only made it as a human being but also a personal fuck you to everyone who was ever cruel to them when they were homeless.

"Hey, what's the matter? You're going to get tears in that bowl," he says. JP told him on the phone that he fucked up something horrendously but didn't elaborate. Knowing JP, she could have either been caught shoplifting or he fucked up his nail polish. Vlad doesn't know why they keep on doing their own nail polish when he does a better job of doing their nails. Actually, he also doesn't understand why JP will throw their money around on everything else but absolutely refuses to go in and get a manicure.

"I'm a failure," they say around a mouthful of frosting, the most dejected look possible on their face. Vladimir locks the door and then sits beside them on the couch, JP immediately burying their face against his chest for comfort and because they're a pec man. Vladimir welcomes this.

"Come on now, you're not a failure. What happened?"

He pets JP's hair soothingly and his ears pop out, the boundaries of his pink ears shifting with color in a way that used to give him a headache if he focused on it too long. He's used to it now, even though JP rarely shows off his ears and tail and flat-out refuses to let him look at him in his natural state if he can help it, even though Vladimir's seen him before volph-like and he's so fucking adorable.

Vladimir does not give them ear scritches. His soul cries out for it but he doesn't want to treat his cute alien boyfriend like a dog because that's kind of fucked up. JP redirects his hand to their ears. They're so soft and velvety and it's so fantastic that he'd cry if he didn't have to be strong in the face of JP's great tragedy. Life is good sometimes.

"My mother was right," they sniffle. "I'll never be able to keep up a household. I can't even bake a cake. It has instructions on the side of the box, Vladimir. How could I fuck something up so basic?"

He gives his ears a real good rub. A pink tail makes itself known and thumps against the sofa. They are so fucking cute.

"These things are hard, my love. You cannot get them right on the first try, sometimes not the fifth. Also, fuck that woman."

JP lets out a sad little sound of disbelief and mashes their face further against his chest. Vladimir has the distinct feeling how JP might need to be comforted through the terrible trauma of messing up a cake and he is perfectly fine with that.

"I'm older than this solar system and I can't do simple tasks. I can't provide for anyone. I'm a mess of a human, darling. I used to be so put-together and now I need you to solve all my problems. It's not fair to you."

Okay, so this is definitely not really about a cake. Most things with JP aren't about what JP thinks they're about: the impulse purchases, their petty grudges against people they barely know, their insistence on wearing a suit at all possible times.

"You've solved a lot of my problems. I can solve some of yours," he replies. "Besides, solving problems for people is kind of sexy, don't you think?"

The earns a snort and another thump of a tail against the sofa.

"Maybe a little," they say.

They gather in the kitchen to inspect the problem: a still-warm cake still sitting in the cake pan. It looks a little funny, like maybe JP threw a bunch of flavors into it, which is probably the case. It's probably still good though.

"I greased it with butter like they said but I just can't get it out of the pan," Jean-Paul explains, his tail drooping.

Okay. Okay, this isn't a big deal. It's just a cake. Vladimir can solve it. Jean-Paul has the weak arms of a baby even though they can make themself buff at any time, so they probably weren't applying enough force.

Vlad picks it up, turns it upside down, and gives it a good thump because that seems right. Probably. Vlad doesn't bake but it can't possibly be that hard.

The cake doesn't budge. He thumps it again. Still nothing. A third time. Nothing again. Okay, Vladimir's got a pretty strong arm because he lifts for fun, so this has got to be a pretty powerful cake right here.

"I already tried that. It's stuck."

"It's just a cake. How hard can it be? Do not worry, I will get it out. Do not fret, my dear Mr. Poinsette."

Vladimir does not get it out, no matter how hard he thumps it. It has defeated him. His hand kind of hurts even though it's just a dinky little cake pan made of aluminum or some shit. He hopes this isn't an indication that he's getting old but he's sixty, so he guesses he is old now.

He tries not to think about his advancing age too much. Mortality is unpleasant. If someone offered him the chance for immortality, he'd take it in an instant. Humanity's highly overrated.

"It's fucked, darling. I'm going to have to throw the whole thing out, aren't I? And I spent my entire paycheck on baking supplies."

Okay, they're definitely going to have a conversation about that because Jean-Paul's throwing his money away left and right on frivolous things lately and that usually means he's going to spiral down into one of his bleak moods, but that's going to wait a bit.

"No, I'm going to get this," Vladimir declares. "Hold on."

He takes a detour to the closet for a second and returns with something that's sure to get that stubborn cake out if he can't rely on his own arm.

"I'm sorry, darling, is that a hammer?"

He doesn't understand why JP's looking at him aghast. It just needs to be thumped real hard.

"It's a mallet. Do not worry, I will be gentle with it. I won't dent it."

This is a really good idea. Vladimir's helping. He feels so proud of himself for his ingenuity.

"No, absolutely not, you're not taking a mallet to my cake."

"I'd be taking it to the cake pan," Vladimir says, which is the wrong thing to say. Paulie snatches up the mallet and shoves it into the junk drawer, which is not where tools go but whatever, this is JP's place, they can do whatever they want.

"Nope, we're done here. I'm throwing in the towel. My cake's a failure," Jean-Paul declares as he moves to throw it away.

"No, no, I can still save this. Let me save this."

He can tell by the look in their eyes that they don't actually believe their mistake can be salvaged but they let him try anyway. He can pry this out with a knife. He's pretty sure that's a thing people do, right? It doesn't look nonstick, so it should be fine. Vladimir will provide for his greedy little alien. This is a test not only of his ability as a partner but his very manhood itself.

His gaze falls on a novelty paw-shaped spatula. This has to be better than a knife: more surface area. He brandishes it like a weapon.

"Don't eat all the frosting," he says. "We're going to save this cake."

Vlad takes the spatula and carefully slides the spatula in between the cake and the pan to loosen it. He's doing it. He's freeing this cake. When he's done, he flips it over and half of it falls off onto the waiting plate below while the rest remains behind.

Oh. That isn't right.

"Well, we tried," JP says with a sigh. "The only thing left is to throw it all away, I guess. I'm never doing this again. Baking's overrated."

Maybe this can still be saved.

"Hey, no, listen to me: it's still good. Just put some icing on top and some ice cream and say it's a crumble. Maybe don't take it to your party though."

The icing immediately melts off because the cake's still too warm. JP throws way too much ice cream on it because of his innate volph sensibilities. The cake/crumble is too moist and tastes a little like pistachio pudding. It's not great but he's not going to say that.

Vladimir still eats every bite.

#ooc #drabble

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marithlizard · 4 years ago

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Ace Attorney: Rise From the Ashes (Day Two, Trial Latter) (part 3)

Wherein I attempt to liveblog a mostly text-based videogame. The trial continues! Lunch is over and yet we’re still being fed indigestible statements.

Court has recessed briefly for information-gathering. The clock says it's not even noon, but I feel like we've heard hours’ worth of (mostly untrue) testimony.

Lana has been called to the judge's chambers for reasons unknown. Ema is realizing just how much of a, what's the polite word, “freewheeler” she's chosen to represent her sister. But Phoenix is still flailing about when any other defense attorney in this world would have given up, so she'd best appreciate him.

It's the cowboy! Who pointedly mentions Lana's scarf, which he saw her wearing on the day of the murder. Since she wasn't wearing it in the photograph taken afterward, presumably the missing muffler is...in the car muffler? Was she trying to hide something, or give Edgeworth carbon monoxide poisoning? And just why is Marshall dropping us this helpful hint?

Court resumes with Edgeworth on the verge of some kind of conniption fit. The judge lists off his symptoms concernedly - oh NO surely you didn't eat one of the lunchboxes, Edgeworth! I've already been wondering how Angel Starr resisted the urge to give you food poisoning for two years, and that was before you verbally eviscerated her on the witness stand.

...Hello, who's this?

Peach suit, white hair, pink glasses and an avuncular folksy charm. You. I don't like you.

"Udgey?" Is that the judge's name, or some sort of twee pig-latin nickname for Judge? And "Wrighto" and "Worthy". And he can get away with calling people slightly demeaning and offbeat nicknames, because apparently he's the district chief of police, Damon Gant. Phoenix is chastised for not recognizing him, which is probably fair.

Okay, that technique of taking away the dialogue box for several seconds while Gant cocks his head and blinks at us is quite effective. This, we're silently being told, is a character so powerful they can interrupt the flow of the game itself.

The judge notes that it's been "over two years" since Gant was in the courtroom. That matches when Angel was fired. This is all about one case, isn't it? The case Lana and the victim worked on, the case that got Marshall demoted.

Gant has brought some false sympathy for Edgeworth and also Lana's missing scarf, which was indeed found stuffed in the car muffler. (So the lunchlady was telling the truth about at least something.) The scarf was wrapped around a switchblade with a tag on it. So, not a personal possession like Edgeworth's knife, but...an exhibit? Something from storage? Like, evidence storage?

Edgeworth is justifiably upset that the police investigation didn't notice a scrap of red cloth hanging out of the car muffler inches away from the body. Gant's initial sheepish admission that "this is embarrassing, even for us" suddenly turns into that blinking Look again. I feel like a trap is about to be sprung.

It's the envelope from yesterday, the one delivered by the hapless mailman! Who told Edgeworth it wasn't related to the case, so he refused to take it. Ouch. It is Edgeworth's error, but there's something gleefully malicious about the way Gant just set him up and then sucker-punched him. There was no need for this to be a public humiliation. In fact, it could've been discreetly sorted out before Gant got on the stand. Or before trial started this morning.

(Why IS he on the stand? He's not a testifying witness. He just kinda...strolled in and took over. )

The judge asks Phoenix to examine the switchblade. The knife tip is broken off and the blade and handle have bloodstains. The tag, when I zoom in focus to max, says "S-L 9 2". As for the envelope, it appears to be an autopsy report on Goodman, and doesn't mention the muffler or switchblade at all. It also has a much vaguer timeframe than 5:15.

Edgeworth tries to regain face by demanding an explanation about the missed evidence. This is a bad, bad idea. I could've told you that even before Gant delightedly agrees to testify.

Gant says the knife is special, but that he can't say how unless a "connection is proven between the knife and Goodman." Um. Doesn't the very presence of the knife, deliberately concealed at the crime scene, in itself mean it's not only connected but vital to understanding what happened? I don't think you should get to withhold that information.

Nor do I think "we were having a bad day" is an acceptable excuse for not investigating the crime scene properly. Cops get aggressively motivated when one of their own is attacked, everybody knows that. Or was Goodman some kind of pariah?

...wait. What??? What Gant's saying is so bizarre I misread it. There was a SECOND murder, at precisely the same time (and that's an awfully precise time), at the police department? "Not officially linked to this case" my aunt Fanny.

And Phoenix isn't supposed to ask about it in cross-examination? I predict that will last about five seconds, because we're going to press every one of these statements hard enough to extract olive oil.

Starting with the knife. Both Phoenix and Edgeworth push for more, but Gant refuses. Can I make a connection that will impress the judge? My inventory contains a phone, a shoe...and a note found in the trunk of the car that says "6-75 12/2". Which looks a lot like "2/21 SL-9" if you turn it upside down.

Gant is acting as though this is a circus and he's never seen a clown before, delighted at everything Phoenix and the judge say. This conveys an impression of total contempt behind a fig leaf of friendliness that can't be questioned. It's a passive-aggressive masterpiece. Somewhere in the audience Himemiya Anthy is probably taking notes.

And his facade barely flickers when faced with the memo. The knife was evidence in a case (duh). Stolen from the evidence room...and that's it? That's all we get?

Oh, this guy is skilled. Edgeworth quite reasonably asks why he wasn't told about this impossibly coincidental murder, and Gant promptly insinuates that he's incompetent because he didn't proactively ask. As though a proper prosecutor would have called the department every day with a checklist of possible events. Why, I bet you didn't even consider a Godzilla attack contingency, did you? Tsk tsk.

Gant continues to playfully refuse to give information on this second murder (except that a suspect has been arrested). He offers to give Phoenix one data point of his choice: where, how or when. Apparently this trial has turned into a game show.

We already know when, so I choose where. And Gant makes a curious distinction. The crime took place in the evidence room (where the knife came from), but he won't say where the corpse was found. Was the body moved? As they say, he is playing a game and it is called silly buggers. I'm absolutely assuming he is behind both murders (though sadly he can't have committed both, unless something paranormal or very complicated is going on).

Phoenix points out that a knife being stolen from the evidence room and then found at crime A, precisely when crime B is committed in the evidence room, is a pretty "duh" link. Edgeworth supports by mentioning the note. Whoever wrote it (Goodman, the murderer, or Lana) presumably either stole the knife or was investigating its theft. Even the judge agrees this has to count. Gant just does his blink thing again.

And says his men took two days to assemble that logic. In other words, he knew. And he STILL wants to play games. He'll talk "unofficially", but not reveal the name of the victim. (Why is that so important?) When pressed, he offers another one-data-point choice. I choose ID number which should be easy to link to a name...although apparently Gant doesn't think so.

Victim ID number: 5842189. The judge looks expectant. I have a horrible idea, and check the court record.

Yep. It's Goodman's ID number.

Simultaneous murders of the same victim in different locations? That's an impressive level of silly buggers, chief. And you didn't want this to come out in the trial? If I didn't already know Lana was innocent by video-game rules, I'd know it now.

Even this doesn't faze Gant. (I really wanted to see him look thwarted. Damnit.)

Edgeworth keeps on asking "Why didn't I hear about this?" even though the answer is always "Because Gant has it in for you, and you just gave him another opening to attack." It's as though he can't quite believe what is happening.

Yep, there's that trap-springing look again. With the first honest expression I think we've seen on Gant's face so far! Just for one frame, a flicker of anger and malice. This time he claims the police department sent Edgeworth all the information in that envelope delivered by Hapless Mailman Meekins, which Edgeworth didn't look at.

Hang on. That's not even true. We have that envelope in the court record, and...*scrolls up*...it's an autopsy report on Goodman. It doesn't say which. Even if Edgeworth had read it, he would have had no reason to think there was a second crime and victim. Moreover, Gant already raked him over the coals for not reading it, in this same trial session! No...as the trap unfolds, Gant seems to be claiming this is an entirely different envelope also delivered by Meekins(?) It doesn't make sense.

But truth isn't going to matter here. This is a career-destroying maneuver, and it's uncomfortable to watch. Edgeworth is helpless under the crushing accusations, protesting vainly that Gant could have submitted all this evidence when the trial started. Well, yes, that's what anyone but your enemy would have done... The flicker of malice is back as Gant rubs it all in with a technicality about evidence law.

(Ah, this detail might be relevant: Edgeworth apparently submitted a list of evidence to be used in the trial, which of course did not include things he didn't know existed. That flies in the face of all Phoenix Wright games past and present, in which new evidence is produced about every five minutes during trial, this one included.)

This morning's Public Career Assassination, I mean trial, comes to an end with Gant mentioning the rumors about Edgeworth, and even using his own brief status as a defendant against him. Edgeworth can do nothing but formally grovel. He begs for one more day of trial to investigate all this new information. The judge grants it,of course, but joins in condemning him.

I don't know why Gant wants to get rid of Edgeworth, but it's obvious the plan is to fire him after tomorrow's trial no matter what happens. The only way to save Edgeworth (and oh yeah, our actual client who's barely been mentioned lately) is to bring Gant down. I am on board with this. He's a mean lying stinkyhead and he's smug about it. Get him, Phoenix!

(Rereading my notes from last time, I'm remembering the moment when Angel Starr told Edgeworth "I might be able to save you". Did she know this was coming down? )

#aa #ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers

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jakattax · 6 years ago

Text

You wanted a scary story, I’ll give you one

May I introduce you all to St. Botolph’s Church, Lincolnshire (aka Skidbrooke church, aka demon church)

A 13th century Anglican church near the market town of Louth in my home county. As you can see the church is disused, abandoned and was declared officially redundant in 1973.

Like all abandoned buildings, especially places of worship, ghost stories abound. The church is widely regarded as one of the most haunted locations in Lincolnshire with tales of phantoms, demons and satanic activity.

https://forums.digitalspy.com/discussion/1891120/the-most-haunted-derelict-demon-church-in-the-uk-has-been-cursed

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.bostonstandard.co.uk/news/offbeat/lincolnshire-s-top-8-terrifying-and-bizarre-paranormal-cases-1-8190903/amp

https://hauntedhistoryoflincolnshire.blogs.lincoln.ac.uk/surrounding-areas/skidbrooke/

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.louthleader.co.uk/news/experts-claim-church-is-paranormal-paradise-1-1015932/amp

https://youtu.be/mZdlERW6iJI

So the story goes is that a coven of satanists performed dark and profane rituals in the church in the 1970’s and 80’s and there was a resurgence in 2004 of animal sacrifices, occult symbology and evidence of fires being burned. Now any self respecting occultist will know that just because a pentagram is involved and a few chickens were sacrificed it does not make it satanic (well certainly not LaVeyan Satanism which was at its most popular in the 60’s and 70’s as killing an animal goes against the tenth Satanic Rule on Earth) and that the deeds could have been carried out by any magical practitioner. It just sounds more dramatic and spooky to blame the satanists.

Anyway.

Skidbrooke church has a very menacing and a very infamous reputation among pretty much every one in the county, it becomes a rite of passage almost to go there and check it out. And so I did.

It was perhaps 4 years ago around midsummer and my best friend Dom decided he wanted to drive to the church and see what ghosts and ghouls we would encounter. This was a point where my occult side was just one of my many eccentricities, I certainly wasn’t an open magician yet so I was asked to tag along. It was myself, Dominic, Laura, Yas and Sam.

The drive from Grimsby to Skidbrooke isn’t long , probably around 40 minutes through the gorgeous Lincolnshire wolds, just expansive farmlands and rolling hills of woodlands. Proper farmers country. I remember the drive profoundly well because I was desperate for the toilet, and these long country roads don’t really have lay-bys. I was genuinely on the verge of pissing myself and Dom refused to stop until I threatened to piss in his new car and he eventually found somewhere so I could relieve myself. Weird diverge i know but I need to recount the tale from memory.

So we got to the church, or should I say the gated road that leads to the church. It was twilight so the sky was that beautiful dark orange colour, just as it meets the pale blue. The sun was setting and darkness was coming. The thing about Skidbrooke church is that it’s in the middle of fielded land and the only way to it is to park by the road and walk down a small country road to it. The road towards the church is gated off so driving there is not an option. The fields were wide and open so the sound of the wind and rustling of nearby trees were quite loud. Sound carried very well. It was very children of the corn, as in the grass in this field was huge. Very daunting, very atmospheric.

So off we went. There was definitely a sense of fear among us all, but we were quite jovial about it all, it was thrilling, fun almost. Dom and Sam are sceptics, they were adamant nothing was going to happen. Yas and Laura weren’t really 100% comfortable, especially when I was boasting that I was going to stir the supernatural pot. In all honesty I had no intention to perform a ritual as I didn’t have any tools or books with me to do so, I was just trying to spook my friends.

The thing about the church grounds is that they’re well kept and groomed. It’s a grade I protected building so I imagine the national heritage employs some poor bugger just to keep the grounds tidy. And it was a functioning church until the 70’s so it’s only respectful to keep the graves nice and clean. It was quite an awesome sight to be honest, the building is quite beautiful. Dom and Sam weren’t so much afraid of ghosts and Demons but more if the church was used by homeless people who might take umbrage to us poking around. We swept the graveyard before entering, just to make sure no one was around who’d fuck with us.

And we were indeed all alone. And so we entered the church proper.

An abandoned church is a bizarre thing. No pews, no altar, no stained glass, just a large bowel of rotting stone and pigeon shit. That’s what hit us, just the smell of dirt and decay. The only features that remained was the heavy oak doors, everything else was gone. From a place that is steeped in centuries worth of devotion and joy is now just a stone skeleton, forgotten in the middle of a field in England.

What struck me probably more than my friends was the heavy atmosphere of the place. Not saying necessarily negative but certainly a strong, musky and intense heavy energy attached to it. We explored the building briefly but honestly it was just a big empty room. It was getting progressively darker and I think we were all starting to spook ourselves a little.

So me being me, I rallied the troops and said I was going to call out. Now I applied no serious occult method here, I just gathered my friends and did the whole “I call beyond the veil, make a noise if there are spirits present” routine. I specified that if Spirits were present they should make themselves known by knocking on the oak doors. I added some flourishes to my calls, adding the names of Malach Ha’Mavet (an angel of death) and some other terms just for the dramatic effect. In hindsight very silly of me to do, but I just wanted a thrill, a bit of a spook. The worse thing was is that it was enough for Yas and Laura and they wanted out. Very douchey thing of me to do really, just to scare them for the sake of it.

We decided it was probably best to leave now. We were all realising that we’re in the middle of nowhere in the dark and me being that weird occultist was trying to commune with the dead (again in actuality I did no real magic here, bit of foolery) and me realising that I’ve scared my friends I didn’t feel too proud of myself so we go.

Our pace is significantly faster as we go back down the road to the car, now it is fully dark so we’re relying on our phones to light the road. Sam walks ahead with the girls, me and dom walk slower behind as we smoke. We decide to look back on the church, and it looked just damn ominous now under cover of night. And that’s when we saw something, or perhaps someone.

On the small belfry tower to the left of the picture, standing on top of it was the distinct figure of a dark shrouded man. It was faint to see with the figure being black against a dark sky and it was very small but it was there. It’s horribly cliche to see a dark hooded figure but that’s what we saw. Hard to define as we were a distance away but it moved and swayed in the wind violently. We thought it was a flag but as you can see there is no flagpole.

It’s fair to say we lost our shit and pelted it to keep up with Sam and the girls. We told them what we saw and they thought we were fucking with them. We were all now running back to the gate and the car. I did look back a few times but couldn’t make anything out. Back to the car and were out of there to a local pub to calm our nerves.

Was it a ghost? Was it a flag or natural phenomenon? I don’t know. It could entirely be a trick of the mind, and it could have easily been a ghost upset at petulant kids poking around his church. Or it could have been demonic, a force stirred up by the sorcery which profaned the hallowed ground. Even though I’m a practising magician and I’m use to stirring up spirits to some tangible form, it’s still chilling to see something out of the blue. Did I unintentionally summon something with my pseudo-magical calls?

In all honesty I put this one to a case of psychology. I think due to the atmosphere, the fame of the building, the situation we put ourselves in we were simply seeing things the mind wanted us to see. We went looking for s ghost and we got one. In the darkness the mind plays tricks, let alone when your in the darkness in an abandoned ‘satanic’ church with a history of haunts and black magic. Yet also as an occultist and magician I must acknowledge that places do indeed carry on the scars of magical influence, a church is such holy and sacred ground that it inherently carries vast potency, especially a church that has been there for 700 years. And i must acknowledge that “satanist” or not, groups of people do gather at the church and vandalise it with pentagrams and carry out rituals, so it is soaked in the supernatural.

Whatever we saw, if we saw anything at all was more than enough to scare away. I haven’t been back to Skidbrooke, but being a more responsible, learned and all around proficient magician makes me want to. Not to try and stir anything up, just to investigate with a more clear head.

Want to come with me?

#ghost stories #skidbrooke #haunted church #ghosts #supernatural

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 6 years ago

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Darkstache Day Six: Pride

A continuation of ‘Past and Present’. It would be recommended to read that first, but it’s not necessary.

Dark might be a being who is of an unknown age, but he still seems a little unnerved about their relationship. Wilford takes advantage of Pride taking place in the city to show him how things have changed.

Word Count: 1,532

“C’moooon, Dark! It’s a lovely day out! We can’t spend it in heere!”

“I’m not going outside. I can’t, Will.”

A familiar argument the pair have had ever since Dark admitted he was a little uneasy about their relationship as a couple. Wilford would insist that going out on a date would normalise things, but Dark seemed overly aware of people staring at them and what their reactions might be. However, Wilford was set on this task.

“C’mon. Just a walk. Nothin’ overly extravagant. We can go get ice-cream, have a little wander in th’ park, then walk home. We’ll be gone barely two hours. Deal?” He needed to get Dark into the city. The Pride festivities were taking place today, like some sort of miracle that might help Dark see that being in a same-sex relationship wasn’t the end of the world. Of course, he didn’t dare tell Dark this. He instead waited for Dark to give a response. The entity’s stern gaze was focused on Wilford, before it soon dropped into a sigh.

“... Fine. Let me get my coat.”

By the time the pair were leaving, Wilford was holding a small rucksack filled with various Pride accessories just in case this worked, but covered them with a large bottle of water and a plain scarf. They chatted casually as they strolled into the heart of the city. Dark had noticed the large amount of young people hanging around, but said nothing. It was only when they passed a rainbow flag did he speak up. He held back to look at it. The breeze had picked up enough to let the flag fly with gusto.

“That’s the fourth one of those I’ve seen on our way here.” Wilford, who had only noticed the absence when Dark spoke up, turned on his heel to go back.

“Pretty sure it’s a summer thing,” he lied. “Y’know, because ya see more rainbows when th’ weather’s nice?” It was a flimsy story, but it seemed to work, and Dark continued on the path with a comment about how it would be more fitting in winter when there was a distinct lack of colour.

There was a crowd at the ice cream parlour, and Wilford was afraid it would be enough to deter Dark. Yet, by some miracle, the bribe of chocolate ice cream was enough to keep Dark there. In fact, as they walked to the park, Wilford couldn’t help but notice how content Dark was. This might be the best time for Dark to experience Pride - before the chaos truly set in.

One of the main walkways in the park had been taken over for the day. There were stalls on both sides - snacks, handmade crafts, face paint, among other things - went as far as the eye could see. Wondering if it was a summer fair, Dark approached one of the artist’s stalls to admire their work. The artist noticed the couple, as well as the lack of accessories, and was about to open her mouth to say something. As though sensing this, Wilford whipped out a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and, without Dark seeing, flashed it to her and tilted his head in Dark’s direction. It had one simple word: “Closeted”. Her eyes widened and she nodded in understanding.

“Hey, you know… You look like you need a little colour today,” she piped up with a smile. “I’ve been giving these out for free to people who’ve dropped by.” Before Dark could question her, a set of rainbow beads were put around his head. “There’s gonna be a lot going on today, but I hope you have a nice time. Remember to take lots of photos!” A matching set was given to Wilford, and the pair set off. Once they were far enough away, Dark turned to Wilford with a look of suspicion.

“You know more than you’re letting on. What is actually going on? There’s something you’re…” He trailed off. Two men walked out of a nearby coffee stand. They had a cup in one hand and their free hands were linked together. One man - who had a rainbow flag painted on his cheek - leaned over and quickly kissed the other on the lips before they carried on. Dark watched the exchange with a thousand thoughts running through his mind. There was no fuss about the action. No drama. No fear of being scorned. He glanced to the side and made his way to a bench where he could just observe. Wilford followed silently.

The longer the pair stayed there, the more Dark saw. People of the same sex acting as normal couples. Individuals who appeared to be dressed as the opposite gender (Wilford had leaned over and whispered something about ‘drag queens’). People who were prancing around like flamboyant peacocks. People who were shy and withdrawn, but with supportive friends. They all had various coloured combinations, but nearly all of them had that rainbow flag on their person.

“... Those flags have nothing to do with summer, do they?”

“Nope.”

“So what do they mean?”

Wilford turned his head to look at the entity. It was like the day that had started him on this quest to help Dark understand that this side of him was okay. He couldn’t back down now.

“This is a Pride festival. It’s a day where folks of th’ LGBT Community - er, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, an’ many others that I’ll explain later - come out an’ celebrate who they are. Was originally a bunch of protests, an’ many use it ta look fer equal rights. Days like these have helped raise awareness, an’ this whole month has been Pride Month.” The rucksack was slipped off his shoulders so Wilford could pull out two pins. They were enamel flags. He pointed to the one with pink, yellow, and blue bands on it.

“This one here is th’ Pansexual flag. That’s what I am. It means that I am attracted ta people regardless of their gender or any other factors.” Next, the second pin, with a rainbow flag. “An’ this is th’ Gay flag. It’s th’ symbol of Pride itself, but it’s also fer men who are attracted to those of th’ same gender… As I believe you are.” This was a sensitive topic, and Wilford was very careful to gauge Dark’s reaction. That reminder from Doc on making sure he didn’t “cross a line” was certainly working wonders. “I-I know this is a lot fer ya. I know ya probably hate me fer lyin’ but… I wanted ya ta see this. Sure, things ain’t perfect, an’ we gotta long way ta go before it’s all equal, but yer not alone. We can head back if ya don’t wanna stay, an’ I can promise not ta bring it up again. Just know… It’s yer choice.”

Dark’s eyes fell to the two pins in Wilford’s hand. There was so much to take in right now. All the fear and strain and isolation from nearly a century ago bubbled in the back of his mind like some kettle left too long on the stove. He wanted to rise up, scold Wilford for not taking his experiences into account and that he ought to know better… But how could he? Wilford was doing what he thought was best, and in as mindful a way as possible. They were two in a small crowd. No one was staring. No one was judging. That young lady had given him a set of rainbow beads for no reason other than he went to examine her wares.

He lifted one pin - the Pansexual one - and reached over to gently attach it to Wilford’s suspenders. It suited him (of course it did). His hand then dropped to Wilford’s and slowly curled it up. Whatever fears Wilford had faded when Dark flashed a smile overrun with nerves.

“Could you put it on me?”

They stayed out three hours instead of two. The pair watched the parade from a distance as Dark was a little overwhelmed with how much was going on. A young man with a rainbow flag tied around his neck like a superhero approached and nervously asked Dark to put out his right hand. When he did so, a stamp was placed on his wrist, leaving behind a neat, rainbow-coloured heart. Once Dark had his heart literally on his sleeve, he began to open up a little more. He took Wilford’s hand in his as they watched the end of the parade. Then, before they began the walk home, he kissed the reporter in public. He had never done that before. People cheered, and the entity was somewhat emotional at that positive response.

Only one photo was taken over the whole day. A selfie of the couple. The pins and beads were on display as Dark kissed Wilford’s cheek. It was simple, yet alive with love and colour. Once the photo was saved on his phone, it became Dark’s wallpaper so he’d always have that reminder that things were not as bleak as they once were for him.

Love is love, and he has the chance to experience it for himself.

#projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstache #writersofmark #love is love #Cracked Mirror (Dark)#Rose Petals (Wilford)

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worddevdealswithml · 5 years ago

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Failed Step 1 (And 2 ( And 3))

Chapter 18: Sinking into the Winter; Making it to New Year’s

As a week passed, and then several more, Kagami realized that she needn’t have been so worried about boredom; the world, as it so often did, provided plenty to keep her busy. Dance lessons, for all she had never been a dancer, were… simple enough, and her mother was quite insistent that she take them regularly, and with all the care that she practiced her fencing.

If she had to guess, it was something about it being the new year; she didn’t ask Adrien about it, of course, but it was probably something like that absurd ‘New Year’s Kiss’ thing that some people apparently went in for.

Of course, Kagami had to restrain a slight annoyance at the fact that it was only simple because Adrien would be leading. She was pretty sure that that little quirk was only as a matter of tradition, and didn’t take into account their particular… personalities.

By the end of the second week of practicing, Kagami had become annoyed at the repeated implication that she’d be the one following in any relationship, and especially in one with someone as… soft, and kind as Adrien. Among his many assets, Kagami would not have counted a go-getter attitude as one of them, especially she wouldn’t have used that term.

By the end of the third week, Kagami had started paying more attention to how her teacher led than how she should follow, which was easier than she’d have expected, since, after all, following was simple.

As November’s chill sank inexorably into the raw freeze of December, one of the coldest ones in a while, from what Kagami had gathered, she only narrowly managed to avoid broaching the subject with her mother.

The problem was that when her mother made choices, it was with the clear understanding that they were the right choices. Therefore, if Kagami was going to bring her doubts up, she’d need to be able to make a case that her mother would listen to, and she wasn’t sure if she could do that.

That meant that if she tried explaining to her mother… Well… Wasn’t there that saying? ‘Better to ask forgiveness than permission?’

She’d never liked that saying, but it had recently started sounding unnervingly useful.

Except, of course, she could… just, do what she was apparently supposed to. It would, as she’d noted many times over, be easy.

The days slipped by, and as winter break arrived, Kagami still didn’t have an answer.

She could have asked Adrien, but she could almost see his slightly abashed acknowledgement already. She knew the answer she’d get, and didn’t know how exactly it would help her. More to the point, it hadn’t even officially been made clear that she’d be dancing with Adrien, so as far as Kagami knew, she technically wasn’t even allowed to mention this to anyone.

Christmas came and went with as little fanfare as Kagami would have expected.

She should have expected the updated playlist from Adrien, since he’d spent a fair stretch of time after their sparring match on the 22nd asking whether she’d liked any of it.

She… Appreciated that. The music was far more reliably palatable this time, too.

And…

Chloe had sent her a card, with a $5 gift card to a store that, after idle curiosity had gotten the better of her, turned out to be an extremely mediocre clothing store.

Kagami had almost laughed, before experiencing a moment of cognitive dissonance as she tried to process whether it was more in line with her interests to be mildly amused by the ‘gift,’ or whether to ignore it.

Still, after a second, she had decided that it would be gone from her head sooner if she treated it with mild amusement, and then let it go.

It looked like Chloe really had gotten better at giving truly useless gifts.

The 31st arrived, and Adrien was, frankly, a bit depressed.

Christmas had passed without even an Akuma to get him out of the house, which, of course… He didn’t want Paris to be attacked, but it had been days since he’d seen Ladybug, and he was starting to miss her. Then, of course, there was the fact that his friends were going to be over at Alya’s apartment for New Year’s Eve, and… even if Father probably wouldn’t have let him go, it would have been nice at least to imagine that if this ball wasn’t happening…

Anyway.

If nothing else, Kagami would be there… And Chloe.

Of course… Adrien had kind of given up on that whole… thing at this point.

They’d stopped sparring, and he hadn’t seen them interact with each other in the past month and a half, which he had to assume meant that whatever had happened, hadn’t gone so well.

He had Plagg, at least. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the most conversational, but if he saw Adrien was having a bad day, he had a knack for trying to lighten the mood a bit. Today, it had been by talking about the real story behind the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Nonetheless, as Adrien had gotten dressed for the ball, which theoretically began at 7, and went past midnight, he had the distinctive impression that it was going to be a long, long night.

Chloe sat down at her seat, which, despite being the same one Adrien was at, was still too far from him

It was 7:20, which meant, of course, that she’d arrived fashionably late, despite the fact that her father was supposed to make a speech, and had arrived far earlier.

Her mother would absolutely have arrived even later, so Chloe had no guilt whatsoever about it.

Unfortunately, even being fashionably late didn’t let her avoid the absolutely mind-numbing speeches and endless introductions that were part and parcel of high-class events.

First it was her father, and, of course, she’d heard the speech in bits and pieces a dozen times before. It was, to nobody’s surprise, bland, televised, and largely about how proud he was of Paris for making it through another year of assault. There was a personal thanks to the heroes of Paris, though he only referenced Ladybug and Chat Noir, which Chloe found a little bit questionable, since, after all, she was also one of…

Well.

Anyway.

Then, some man she didn’t recognize who was old beyond reason went up to the front and started droning on about the deep significance of the ball, and what the itinerary for the rest of the night was like, and…

Chloe tuned him out after he started talking about how much deliberation it had taken before they had decided that they were willing to let it be televised.

Why, exactly, did anyone care? It was a ball. It was fancy. Yeah, it probably deserved to be televised, but at what point did you think it was so private that you might restrict people from watching?

What was the point of being rich and/or famous if you just… never let anyone see you?

Chloe, out of sheer boredom, pulled out her phone under the table, and…

At the rate things were going, it was going to be a long, long night.

#ML #Miraculous Ladybug #ML Fanfic #Miraculous Fanfic #Failed Step 1 #Chloe Bourgeois #Kagami Tsurugi #Adrien Agreste #Chlogami #Chloegami #In which Kagami is carefully ignoring Chloe #Adrien is largely just sad that he never gets to spend time with the rest of his friends #And Chloe is just annoyed all around

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