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snickerl · 3 years

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Of Miracle Births and Other Wonders

tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

The lady behind the reception desk sends Mulder and the two kids up to the fourth floor of the hospital. They find another reception area with another helpful nurse. She tells them a doctor will be with them very soon to give them an update on Scully's condition. The few minutes they have to wait tears every nerve in Mulder's body, putting his patience to a hard test. Then, to his great relief, a good-looking woman in her late thirties approaches them. "Hello Mr. Scully, my name is Dr. Hanson, I am taking care of your wife," she says, holding her hand out to shake his.

"Uh, nice to meet you, Doctor, but my name is Mulder. These are our children, Emily and William," Mulder says, nudging them both in front of him. "How is Scully? I mean, my wife? How is she?"

"Hello everybody," the doctor says good-naturedly. "Your wife is perfectly fine, Mr. Mulder. She is doing great with her breathing technique. Her cervix is at 5 centimeters, so we still have some way to go. The baby is in good shape, she is in good shape, so we believe we will have a smooth delivery in a couple of hours. Are you all coming to the delivery room?"

William is aghast, his eyes saucer-wide. "What? Ew, no way! Gross!" He shakes his head vehemently. "Never ever!"

Mulder looks at his daughter. "Em?"

Emily thinks for a moment but quickly decides against it. The thought of seeing her mother in pain, even if it was for a good cause, makes her uncomfortable. "I'd rather stay with Will. We don't want him sitting here all by himself," she says.

"I don't need a sitter," William snaps, "I'm not a baby."

"But you definitely behave like one," Emily fires back. "Now shut up and be nice so dad can look after mom and doesn't have to worry about us at each other's throats out here."

"Alright," Doctor Hanson says. "The waiting area is over there. There are magazines and a vending machine. If you need anything, ask the nurse at reception. Follow me, Mr. Scully...I mean Mr. Mulder, sorry...your wife will be happy to see you." She leads the way to the delivery room. Mulder presses a kiss on Emily's hair and waves at William who has already plummeted into a chair. "Okay, kids. See you later then," he says and hurries to follow the doctor.

"Say hello to mom from us," Emily shouts after him, "and good luck!" She looks after her father who disappears through a swinging door marked Deliveries, then trots toward the waiting area to join her brother. She places herself in a chair next to him, looks around, gets up again to leaf through a pile of magazines on one of the tables, finds nothing of interest, goes back to her chair, and lets herself fall onto it with a sigh.

"You could've gone with dad, if you wanted," William tells her without looking up from his phone.

"Nah, I'm good."

Both sit in silence for a while. William is totally absorbed in a game on his smartphone, Emily pulls a history book and some pencils out of her backpack and starts reading, writing notes on the pages in different colors here and there. William shakes his head when he sees her doing that. "That's so old school, sis."

"Well, it's good for me. This way, the information stays longer in my brain than when I read it on a screen. You may call it old school, bro, I call it efficient mnemonics."

"Whatever," he sighs, his eyes back on the screen.

"Hey, what you said in the car, that mom doesn't care about us anymore, what did you mean by that?"

"I meant what I said, whatever the baby needs comes first, and we will play second fiddle. Or maybe even third. But I don't care. If things get unbearable, I will ask to go to boarding school. They can play house with the new baby then and I won't be there to bother anyone with my presence."

"You're being ridiculous, Will. Mom and dad will never let you go to boarding school, and I can't believe it will be anything like you just said."

William only shrugs. The narrative in his head has solidified like concrete, and he can't imagine a worse place to be right now. The best he can do is immerse himself in this online game and forget about what is happening at the other side of the door his father vanished through. After some hours of playing (thank God he brought his charger) and a short nap with his head leaned back against the wall, his stomach grumbles. "Are you also hungry, Em?"

"Well, I could have a snack. How long have we been waiting?"

"We came here at 10:45 am, now it's almost 6," William tells her, looking at the big clock on the wall of the waiting area.

"Wow, seven hours already. Poor mom. I wonder why dad hasn't given us an update."

"Do you think something is going wrong and he doesn't want to tell us?" William says, his voice trembling a bit.

"I don't think so."

"It's not so unlikely at mom's age."

"And how do you know?"

"I read stuff."

"You read stuff. Where?" Emily has problems picturing her brother behind a pregnancy textbook.

"On the internet, where else? If you google 'late motherhood' you get thousands of hits. And they all tell you women should have babies in their twenties and thirties, not their fifties. There is a reason for that. Nature doesn't want you to have a baby when you're old."

"Mom's not old."

"For having babies she is. She should be a grandmother rather than giving birth."

"Well, if she was a grandmother, I would already have a baby," Emily points out pensively, then adds a determined, "no thanks!"

"I just can't believe they let this happen."

"Let what happen?"

"Getting mom pregnant. Why? How?"

"Well, I can tell you how..."

"Ew, don't!" William imitates a gagging sound. "But why?"

"I guess it just happened."

"There are ways to prevent getting pregnant, I hope you are aware of that, unlike our parents apparently. I don't want to be an uncle on top of this any time soon. How could they have been so dumb? I don't get it. For all the times mom lectured us about condoms and safe sex, she didn't follow her own words." He shakes his head showing his disapproval and lack of understanding quite clearly. "I will never have sex, that's for sure."

Emily gives a slight chuckle. At fourteen, her brother most certainly doesn't have any idea of the joy of it. When he gets older and starts fancying girls, he might rethink his attitude, but something else is hitting her the longer their conversation goes. "You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Well, what else was I to do? It has been the main topic in our house for the longest time. I guess, sometimes they even forgot I was still living there."

"Bullshit."

William is done explaining his thoughts. His sister obviously isn't getting the point either, just like his parents. "Now are we getting something to eat, or what?"

"You hangry?" Emily asks with a smirk and he is glad she has taken the bait and they changed the topic.

"After seven hours of wasting my time in this stuffy waiting room, I think I am allowed to have a bite to eat. Do you have change for the machine?" The boy is inwardly fuming at his father for once again neglecting him by not giving him money for food.

Big sister overtakes Em again, "I am definitely getting us something more nutritious. There has to be a cafeteria somewhere with sandwiches and a drink with less sugar than what I see in that machine." The idea of having to deal with a cranky brother on a sugar-high isn't very appealing. She gets up from the chair, her mind set on improving her brother's mood with a tasty snack. Plus, the hunt for food will give her something to do instead of mulling over what her mother is enduring at this very moment in the delivery room. "Text me, if you hear something," she tells her brother before she leaves him alone.

He tries to distract himself with the game again, but his thoughts keep going back to six months ago when his world turned upside down. The situation was surreal. His parents had prepared one of their usual Sunday family dinners, Emily had come to join, and with the dessert they served them the news of the pregnancy. His sister's piercing shriek of surprised joy hurt his eardrums and he almost choked on the pie he had in his mouth. His mother annoyed him with science book citations about the finer points of late motherhood and male ongoing virility that made him want to cover his ears entirely and yell 'too much information' at her. The worst was his dad though. The puppy eyes with which he was looking at his mom and the silly petting of her still flat stomach caused a severe tickling in William's throat. To this very day, he hadn't gotten past the shock. He shakes his head to make the unpleasant memories disappear.

And then, of course, what had to happen happens: Emily is gone for about fifteen minutes when Mulder appears in the waiting area with an ear-to-ear smile on his face. "Waiting time is over, the baby's here! It's a girl! A healthy, beautiful little girl," he announces, his voice full of pride and also relief. He looks around, surprised to find William alone. "Where is your sister?"

"Getting us a snack. Is mom alright?"

"She is. She did great. I am so amazed by that woman." Mulder's whole face lights up. "She sent me to get you guys. When will Em be back?"

"I don't know. She's been gone for about 20 minutes now, it shouldn't take her much longer. I mean only if she hasn't met a cute guy she needed to get into a conversation with." William rolls his eyes so hard he sees the back of his head, his voice high-pitched on 'cute guy'.

Mulder is still so high on adrenaline that he doesn't chime in, although he too has been annoyed more than once by his daughter's tardiness, and the reason has often enough been a 'cute guy'. "Okay, gotta go back to Scully, I don't want to leave her and the baby alone for too long," he says. He points toward a long gray hallway with several doors on each side. "We're in room 302 over there on the right. As soon as Em gets back, come and join us. Mom is waiting for you guys."

"But dad," William laments in vain, his father is already around the corner. "Great," he mumbles to himself. First, they drag him out here and make him wait endless hours in an uncomfortable chair only to be here when the baby is born, and now that it is born, they don't have a problem with him standing around for God knows how long until his tardy sister is back. Typical. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, types in 'get here asap', his fingers flying over the screen, and slams the send button.

Impatience gets the better of him soon. There is no more sitting in the chair and playing online games for him now, he is pacing the waiting area, glad that nobody else is there to see him in this state. If Emily isn't back soon, he'll explode, he thinks, but it takes another 20 minutes until he sees her leisurely strolling down the hallway. He sighs in relief when she finally stands in front of him, a cardboard tray in one hand filled with two drinks and something to eat he can't quite figure out, and some flowers wrapped in paper in the other. "It's about time!" he lets her know.

"Sorry," Emily says quite relaxed, "I was just standing in line to pay for the food when I got your text. This hospital complex is huge and a bit confusing to be honest. I'm not sure I took the shortest way on my way back. Healthy muffins, iced tea, and something for your sweet tooth," she says with a grin, holding the tray out to William. "What happened?"

"What happened? What do you think happened? The baby's here, of course, and mom wants to see us!"

Emily gives a girly shriek that hurts William's ears once again. "Yay! Great! You could've been a bit more specific in your text rather than simply summoning me back here. I thought you were just craving the food."

"Yeah, well, there was food right in front of our noses." William points to the vending machine, unable to keep his outstretched index finger steady. "But you had to go on a hunting trip for some salad leaves and made me stand around here alone wondering."

"Where are they?"

"In room 302. They are waiting for us. It's this way." William nods in the direction Mulder showed him.

"Okay, let's go then."

Side by side, Emily and William take long strides toward the room they were told. "Boy or girl?" Emily asks on the way.

"Girl."

"Yay again! Ah, that's wonderful. I have a little sister," she chants.

William isn't sharing an ounce of his sister's enthusiasm. If he had been given a choice, he would have passed on this experience as a whole, but now that they are standing in front of room 302, by opening that door what he has tried to deny will become real. If only his mom is alright, he will accept all that comes with it: sleepless nights because of the baby crying, smelly diapers, more Thai takeout, and an annoying younger sister on top of an annoying older one. If only his mom is alright. Emily knocks and he hears his mother's voice say "Come in!" It sounds weak, he thinks, and his heartbeat accelerates. When he follows his sister into the room, he braces himself for the worst.

#dana scully #fox mulder #emily scully #william scully #msr #xf fanfic #au fanfiction

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

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I’d put a crown at your feet... (Part I)

For the dearest @marilynmonroefanfics 💝👄

Hope you’ll like the story.

TW: mentions of smut

June 1972. Castle of Balmoral.

Walking through the Scottish lands, Philip Mountbatten, Duke of Edinburgh, was in a foul mood.

He felt like his life was falling apart for two years. Or maybe for more years?

He did not remember when it went sour, but for sure, he knew that his life was a complete mess.

First of all, his marriage was falling apart: he and Elizabeth grew distant from each other. Farewell, the sweet romance of the beginning! Even the birth of Edward, their last child, did not manage to patch things up between them.

Secondly, his “dear” wife did not show any maternal love for their children. She cast Charles, Anne, Andrew, and Edward away, often scolding them for their mistakes and barely complimenting their efforts or successes.

Philip had to admit that he was not really present for his children, but he was not at ease with them. Moreover, Elizabeth took perverse pleasure remembering his royal duties.

But the final straw was when he discovered that his spouse enjoyed the company of other men, to say the least.

Amazing! And he was the one the press accused of being a cheating husband! It is a topsy-turvy world!

As he was brooding over the disaster of his personal life, he did not hear the sound of a four-wheel-drive coming near to him until a familiar voice called him:

"Hello there, dear brother-in-law!"

He turned around and saw Margaret at the wheel of her vehicle, a slight smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Invading Scotland! Seriously, I'm escaping from my sister's boring sycophants! They were wasting my day!"

Philip smirked: his sister-in-law was the best person to understand how he felt in this oppressive world. Even if they did not have the same character, Philip and Margaret managed to get along. Especially since they had to tolerate Elizabeth's obnoxious behavior for some years.

"If you talk about the Daniels and the Furlingtons, you took the best decision! I would do the same!"

"Is it not what you're currently doing? Escaping from my dear sister at long strides?"

The prince shrugged.

"Maybe..."

"I see... Fancy a ride?"

"Is it risky?" joked Philip.

"Oh, don't be such a coward! Get in the car!"

"How could I refuse such a lovely request?" said her brother-in-law with irony as he climbed in the car!

Soon after, they were driving into the Scottish countryside, enjoying the view at every turn. Philip admitted that his legs needed some rest after his long walk.

After half an hour of driving, Margaret stopped the car, and they appreciated the point of view.

"Well, I have to tell: you are an excellent driver!"

"Oh, I had a good teacher! Dad and I used to drive there when I was younger!"

She sadly smiled.

"I remember his laugh... He told me how bold I was!"

"I wish I could have those kinds of memories with my own father!" answered Philip.

"Sure, you were not lucky!"

Both stayed silent, watching the calm landscape until Margaret spoke again.

"If Dad were among us, he would never let Elizabeth behaving that way with you or the children!"

"You're probably right. Unfortunately, I don't know what your mother thinks about it!"

"Don't worry about that! She often criticizes Lizzie for her lack of maternal love! She said that the monarch of Great Britain should never forget both their royal obligations and their parental duties!"

"Regrettably, your sister does not really care about it!"

Margaret scoffed.

"You bet she did not listen! My dear sister repeats that her children are more a burden than a blessing!"

She turned towards Philip.

"Speaking of that, make some effort, damn it! It looks like you're trying to avoid them at any cost! Don't you love your children?"

This question hit Philip like a punch!

"What are you talking about? Of course, I love my children!"

"Then, act like it! They are craving affection, and they cannot count on their mother for that! They need their father, and if you don't do anything to rectify the situation, you will regret it!"

The Duke of Edinburgh sighed.

"I know that it's not an excuse, but nobody taught me how to be a father. I tried my best, but I only witness the disaster I've created!"

"Don't be so pessimistic, or you're going to make me depressed! Sincerely, between you and my sister, you are the better parent! You just have to improve it, and it's not too late!"

She frowned.

"But I can't even believe Lizzie dared cheat on you with this jackass!"

"You know the name of her lover?"

"The most recent one? Of course, I know his name... and you know him too!"

"Who is it?"

"You won't like it... But it's Roger Acherville, one of your squires!"

Enraged, Philip struck the dashboard.

"DAMN IT! THIS RASCAL BOWED AND SCRAPED IN FRONT OF ME, BUT SHARED MY WIFE'S BED!"

Margaret bit her lip: she wished she never had to tell that news to her brother-in-law, but she must tell him the truth, even if it hurts like hell!

"I'm sorry, Philip. I'd prefer never tell you this..."

He interrupted her.

"No, you were right. You did well to tell me who my wife is cheating on me with right now!"

Philip was upset. How could Elizabeth do such a thing to him, after all they have been through together?

"But now I don't know what to do ..."

He turned to Margaret and saw that she was wearing a big, mischievous smile.

The kind of smile that announced that she had an idea behind her head and that didn't promise well.

"What are you going to tell me again as a twisted idea?"

"You know the law of retaliation: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth..."

"I know this motto, indeed. And then?"

"Well, what I mean is... I allow you to get your own back on my sister!"

Philip opened his eyes wide: he thought he hallucinated? Did Margaret just authorize him to cheat on Elizabeth?

Years ago, she would have torn his eyes out if he ever imagines that possibility!

But now, the circumstances were different, and she was his best ally in Buckingham Palace.

Moreover, the idea of finding solace in someone else's arms was not unpleasant...

He nodded.

"Alright! You convinced me!"

"Really?"

"Yes! After all, why my dear wife should be the one having fun?"

"That's the spirit, dear in-law! Before you start finding a lover, do you know what would make me happy?"

"What?"

"Shave that goddamn beard! You look like a caveman!"

The prince consort laughed: he almost forgot his bushy beard!

"What is the problem with that? It looks nice to me! People would think that I am an explorer! Or a Viking: after all, I am a Danish prince! Or maybe Socrates, as I am a Greek Prince too!"

"Of course, and I look like the lost twin of Marilyn Monroe!" she taunted the Duke while playfully punching him on the shoulder.

The two royals laughed and spoke for a long time, far from their daily issues. After all, this day was the beginning of a new journey for Philip Mountbatten...

Two months later. August 1972

Philip adjusted his bow tie: he hoped he wasn't doing anything stupid by accepting Margaret's invitation to one of her parties. She had promised him that he would not be bored and that he might find the perfect person.

He sighed: he knew he was running a risk looking for a mistress.

If ever the press caught him in the arms of a woman, his reputation was gone! And his wife would not hesitate to put him down!

Straightening his chest, he gave a satisfied smile and got ready to join his sister-in-law when his son Andrew entered the room:

"Good evening, father ... Oh, you are very elegant!"

"Thanks, Andrew."

"Are you going out tonight?"

"Indeed, yes. I'm accompanying your Aunt Margaret to one of her parties. According to her, I am the guest of honor."

The 12-year-old boy nodded.

"Does ... Mother approve of this?"

"I have to. At least, your father will stop my sister from doing something stupid!" answered a familiar voice.

With these words, Queen Elizabeth entered the room. Dressed in a pearl gray satin dress, she had put on her most exquisite jewelry. She looked stern, almost disdainful.

"Good evening, mother. You are beautiful tonight!"

The queen ignored the compliment and turned to her husband.

"Can I count on you so that Margaret doesn't end up dead drunk in another man's bed?"

"I'll do my best ... And you, what have you planned tonight?"

"I'm attending a reception at the Indian Embassy. As for Mother, she spends the evening with her lady-in-waiting, and Edward stays with them."

"And what about Charles and Anne?"

"I have no idea, and I don't want to know!"

Philip raised his eyebrows.

"I thought every parent should be worried about their children's nighttime activities!"

She replied in an annoyed tone.

"Oh, don't say such nonsense! They are old enough to fend for themselves! Besides, I have other priorities!"

She glanced at the clock that sat quietly in the back of the room.

"If you have nothing else to tell me, I'll leave you! I have to go to the embassy! Have a good evening!"

She turned on her heels and took off at a brisk pace, leaving her husband and son alone.

The Duke saw the sad look on Andrew's face and felt pain for him: how many times has he witnessed his wife ignore their children's words?

He tried to cheer his son up:

"Come on, it's nothing. I'm sure your compliment made your mother happy!"

Andrew replied:

"Don't bother too much about it, father. She does not care what I tell her. And she does the same to Charles, Anne, and even Edward!"

The young boy turned his gaze to his father:

"Even you, she snubs you all the time!"

"Well ... let's say that between adults, things can get more complicated!"

"Well, that doesn't make you want to be an adult!"

Philip laughed at the clear opinion of his third child.

"Don't worry, it won't be like this all the time! I'm sure you'll find someone you get along with!"

"I hope so too..."

Changing the subject, Philip asked:

"So what about you? What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm staying with Grandma and Edward. At least, I am sure to have a good evening!"

"I think so too. Well, I have to leave you: if I arrive late, your aunt might strangle me!"

"What are you waiting for? Go ahead!"

"I'm going! See you tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow, father!"

Philip kissed his son on the forehead before heading outside the palace, where a limousine awaited him.

He got into the back of the vehicle and ordered his driver:

"We can go, Henry! Let's go to Princess Margaret's residence!"

"Right away, Your Highness!"

And the vehicle set off, taking the prince to the place of the party.

A few minutes later, he arrived outside Kensington Palace, where several luxury cars were already parked in the driveway.

With a steady step, he entered the house where a butler greeted him with deference:

"Welcome to Kensington Palace, Your Royal Highness."

"Thank you. Could you tell the Princess that I have arrived?"

"She's in the main living room, Your Highness. If you please follow me, sir ..."

The Duke of Edinburgh followed the servant into a large room with dancing music and laughter.

Philip spotted Margaret, in her best dress, chatting happily with her guests.

The butler walked up to his employer and announced:

"Lady Snowden, His Royal Highness Duke Philip of Edinburgh has arrived."

"Perfect! He's coming at the right time! Thanks, Howard!" Margaret exclaimed before going to greet her brother-in-law.

"Good evening, Philip. I see you dressed up… But you still haven't shaved your goddamn beard! What did I tell you?"

“This must be my rebellious side…” smirked Philip.

This remark amused the princess, who grinned.

"You got the point!"

She took his wrist.

"Come on! I have some lovely people to introduce you to!"

And so Philip became acquainted with singers, actors, dancers, musicians, artists, and other socialites of good English society.

Suddenly, he noticed the presence of a young man who was talking to some artists.

Although he tried to stay focused on the conversation, he found it difficult to take his eyes off this mysterious young man.

The latter had dark skin, raven hair, and intense ebony eyes. Dressed in an elegant black suit, he was rather slender and had elegant hands.

Philip saw that he was wearing light makeup that showed off his face.

Margaret saw that her brother-in-law seemed hypnotized by the young man. She smiled:

"Tell me, Philip, would you like me to do the introductions with that handsome brunette over there?"

"What? Come on, Margaret, you don't have to ..."

"No way! Follow me!"

Letting out a long sigh, the Duke followed the Princess, who addressed her guests:

"So, are you having fun?"

"Absolutely, Maggie! This night is awesome!"

"I am delighted about it!"

She turned to the man who accompanied the mysterious young man.

"Jonathan, you nasty little secretive! You did not present me this delicious young person who accompanies you!"

"Where are my good manners? Margaret, Prince Philip, let me introduce you to Piero De Angelis! He is a model of your husband Anthony!"

"I should have guessed! Anthony has always had an eye for beauty!"

The British princess turned to the man named Piero.

"And you, my dear, how do you like this evening? Are you having fun, I hope?"

"Oh yes, Your Highness. I'm having a great evening!"

The prince noticed that he had a voice that was soft enough for a man.

"I am delighted about it!" smiled Margaret, who nudged Philip lightly.

The latter, having understood the message, cleared his throat before asking:

"Like that, your name is Piero? Like the character from commedia dell'arte?"

"Not quite, but I admit it sounds like it! My name is spelled P-I-E-R-O, while the character is spelled P-I-E-R-R-O-T. That is all the difference!"

"I see ... When you take a closer look, you look a bit like him!"

"Oh, really? Do I look melancholic?"

"No, but your makeup is as subtle as his!"

His sister-in-law slapped her forehead: she feared Philip might bring out one of his sharp sense of humor. His jokes tend to upset those involved.

However, she did not expect Piero to respond maliciously:

"Beware, Your Highness: appearances are often deceptive. For example, when I look at you, I can say that it must be several centuries since you last saw a shaving foam!"

This gibe amused Margaret, who gave a fit of laughter, while the other guests gasped in horror: how dared this young commoner speaking to the prince consort with such poor manners?

As for Philip, he was taken aback: no one ever ventured to respond to one of his jokes. But he had to say: Piero had some spirit, and he liked that!

He laughed:

"Well played! I appreciate people with some character!"

Philip offered his hand to the young man:

"I know when I lost the game."

Smiling, the young Mister De Angelis shook hands with the prince:

"It was an honor verbally sparring with a member of the Royal family!"

At the second their hands touched, Philip felt like electricity went all over his body. He thought it has been years since he underwent such emotion...

As for Piero, he was mesmerized: he always found Prince Philip attractive when he saw him on official pictures, but now, the young man could affirm that the prince consort was handsome, to say the least.

The young man also observed that Philip's piercing eyes hid something else, but he could not tell what: sadness? Or melancholy? Hope?

Yet, he was sure that the Duke of Edinburgh was not as happy as he seemed.

When they stopped shaking hands, Piero bowed respectfully before Philip:

"It was a pleasure speaking with you, sir."

"The pleasure was mine, Signore De Angelis."

Amused, the young man slightly bowed his head before he turned his heels and walked away.

Philip smirked: this young Piero was the most interesting man he ever met so far.

He glanced at Margaret, who smirked slightly. Looks like she had something in her mind...

"What?"

"Nothing... I just confirm that you find your match!" she muttered as she sipped her glass of Martini.

Rolling his eyes, Philip answered:

"Please, do not make overly ambitious plans!"

"What? Do not give me that stern look!"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Philip glanced at the young man with a sly smile on his face: he had the feeling that Piero would have an intriguing role in the future...

Two weeks later, at Kensington Palace.

In the main living room of the palace, Philip and Margaret talked about many gossips and their respective marriages.

"I'm glad to hear that you and Anthony are on better terms!"

"Yes. I would not lie, it was struggling. But, in the end, it is worth fighting for!"

The prince nodded before sighing:

"I really hoped that things would get better between Elizabeth and me. Unfortunately, I have to certify that it only worsens! She avoids me most of the time, and I am sure she pretends to have different appointments to be with this Acherville!"

His sister-in-law puts a sympathetic hand on his arm.

"I am sincerely sorry for this, Philip."

"Thank you, Margaret. But, my hardship only strengthens my desire to see someone else... Someone who can love me for who I am!"

An impish smile came across Margaret's face.

"A little bird tells me that you have a specific young man in your mind, am I right?"

The Duke of Edinburgh raised his hands in defeat.

"There's no fooling you!"

The princess squealed in delight.

"I knew it! I saw this little sparkle in your eyes that says a lot about your feelings!"

"Wait a minute... Are not you upset by the fact that I may be romantically involved with a man?"

She shrugged.

"As if I care! Choose whoever you want to sleep with, as long as it gets on Lizzie's nerves!"

"I recognize your open-minded character!" chuckled Philip.

"Indeed."

"Speaking of him, what can you tell me about this Piero De Angelis?"

"Are you reading on my mind? I was about to tell you what I know so far!"

"Go ahead!"

She cleared her throat and answered:

"Well, I asked my best friend, Lady Anne Tennant, to give me some pieces of information about him. According to her, he was born in a middle-class family who fled Italy during World War Two. Loving parents, close relationships with his siblings. A nice life, to sum up.

He is six years older than Charles. She also told me that he graduated from Oxford, but he prefers modeling. He sometimes worked as a tutor for children of noble families. I approve of his model career: he has such good looks! It would be a shame not to take advantage of it!"

"Sure... What about his temperament? His hobbies?"

"As far as I know, he is an artist: he loves drawing, sculpting, dancing, taking artistic pictures, painting, acting, and singing! A perfect artist, I tell you. Those who know him say that he is patient, charming, cultivated, smart, polite, and humble... He has some humor, but you have already noticed it. Ah, I almost forgot! He has some... unusual tastes!"

Philip raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't imagine something scandalous! It's just that he loves good fashion, jewels, and perfumes."

"He has a fondness for feminine things..."

"Exactly. Is it not a problem?"

"Oh, I would handle... At least, I'll have someone to give those kinds of presents!"

"That's the Philip I know! I might add that he currently lives in the area of Westbourne, in the neighborhood of Notting Hill... which is not far from here!"

"You planned everything, did not you?"

"I learn to anticipate, dear in-law! He lives in a small house, so you won't be disturbed by potential housemates."

Philip smiled before saying:

"Alright. So, am I supposed to go there, and ask him out?"

Her grin confused the prince consort.

"Oh, dear... That won't be necessary!"

As Philip was about to ask what she meant, a butler appeared:

"Your Highness, Mister De Angelis is here. Shall I let him in?"

"Perfect, just in time! Let him in, Howard!"

The prince could not believe his ears:

"You invite him?"

"Of course, dear in-law! Like this, you would get to know each other better!"

At the same time, Piero entered the room, escorted by the butler. Margaret gave her warmest smile towards the young man:

"Piero, caro mio! What a pleasure to see you! How are you since the last time?"

"I am fine, thank you. I did not expect an invitation from you..."

He noticed the presence of Philip and bowed:

"Your Highness..."

"Mister De Angelis..."

Suddenly, Margaret stood up from her place and said:

"Well, you know what? I'll pop over Lady Anne and picking some pastries, while you two have a nice little conversation. I would not be too long..."

"What? But..." started Philip.

"No protest in my house! Alright, see you later!"

She turned her heels and walked out of the palace, followed by her butler.

The two men stood silent, looking at each other. Piero broke the silence as he tried a joke:

"I see that you finally shaved your beard..."

The prince chuckled:

"Yes, indeed. As you can see, my interview with the shaving foam went well."

"I hope my joke didn't offend you."

"Absolutely not. I'm fond of that kind of blunt humor, and I was pretty happy to find someone to share it with!"

"You see me honored, Your Highness."

Philip shook his head negatively.

"No formalities with me: we are not at Buckingham Palace! You can call me Philip!"

Piero was surprised by this inquiry but didn't really pay attention:

"However you like, Philip. In that case, you can call me Piero. Or Peter, if you prefer."

"Understood, Piero."

The young man asked:

"Did your wife ask you to shave?"

Piero regretted asking that question because he saw a glimmer of sadness in the Duke's eyes.

The latter sighed:

"No, I was the one who took that initiative. And to be honest, my wife doesn't really care about my hair choices. In fact, she doesn't really care about me at all!"

This revelation surprised Piero: he did not expect Prince Philip to make such a confession to him about his married life!

"You ... are you arguing?"

"If only that was all that! But unfortunately, there is also indifference, contempt, and estrangement!"

"I am sincerely sorry for you, Your Highness. But you know, all may not be lost: things will surely work out ..."

Philip laughed bitterly:

"How I would like to be as optimistic as you! But when the person you love goes to seek passion elsewhere, you no longer have any illusions!"

"Indeed, seen from that angle, it is a bad start to save a marriage ... But why are you telling me all this? You do not have to tell me these things."

With these words, the prince approached the young artist and replied:

“That's right, I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it. But I've been looking for someone for so long who could listen to me and understand me. I'm tired of feeling isolated… Nonetheless, ever since I met you, Piero, it's like the light has returned to my life. Yes, I know we barely got to know each other, but I've always trusted my instincts when it comes to people I meet, and I've been right every time. "

Piero began to understand where the duke was going and panicked:

"Huh? Oh no! No, no, no, and three times no!"

"What do you mean?" Philip asked, confused.

"I can see exactly what you want to ask, and I refuse! I don't want to be a simple consolation prize! I saw what it was like to be the lover of a king or a prince, and it doesn't make you want to be one! "

He continued in a calm tone:

"I have no doubt that you are a handsome man with many qualities, but I cannot accept being just a passing lover until the day you reconcile with the queen. I do not like the idea of being a simple shoulder to cry on that you give up as soon as everything is better. "

Philip was speechless: he expected everything but that! However, he should have waited a bit before declaring his love. But the tension in his relationship was so unbearable that he despaired finding someone he could love unconditionally.

And this young Piero was the person he needed ... he still had to accept!

Philip dropped to his knees in front of the young man, and took his hands between his while looking at him with pleading eyes:

"I swear Piero: if you were to become my lover, it's because I feel like no love exists anymore between Elizabeth and me. I suffered from abandonment when I was just a child, and I know only too well the harm it does. I would never do this to a person who is dear to me..."

"But get up, damn it! If we were seen like that ..." Piero stammered, panicked.

"I don't care! I know you are suspicious of beautiful promises, but I swear to you that I will never disappoint you. You will always be showered with gifts ..."

"Hang on! I'm not a materialist!"

"I know, I know ... I will make sure to spend time with you, I will call you regularly ... I will be the most devoted lover that can exist!"

The young man laughs lightly:

"Please, it feels like a Barbara Cartland novel!"

"Thank you for this unflattering comparison!" grumbled the prince, who smiled.

Philip stood up and asked:

"What are you going to decide?"

Piero bit his lip: to tell the truth, he was torn between two feelings. On the one hand, he was scared to become the lover of the Duke of Edinburgh. He did not want to betray the Queen and being the next prey of the press!

But on the other side, he had to admit that he was always fascinated by Prince Philip and his magnetic charm. And then there was this vulnerability in this man that the young man found irresistible.

After a few minutes of thought, he replied:

"I admit that this somewhat surprising declaration of love took me by surprise. And even if I do not want to be an accomplice in adultery, I want to give you a chance!"

Reassured, Philip dared to kiss the young man's tanned forehead and replied:

"I promise you won't regret it! How much time do I have ahead of me?"

"Two months. I think that will give me time to see if I can give it a go or not."

"And that will be more than enough to convince you!" Philip laughed.

10 months later. May 1973

The spring sun sneaked through the curtains, caressing Piero's sleepy face.

The latter woke up slowly and opened his eyes, a smile on his face.

He turned and fondly looked at his sleeping lover.

The young man smiled when he saw Philip so appeased: he was happy to have accepted the prince consort's proposal.

At the same time, the latter succeeded in his probationary period: he was a considerate, loving, affectionate, and caring boyfriend.

Piero had never had so many presents in his life: the number of beautiful clothes that filled his wardrobe was impressive. And what about the magnificent jewelry that Philip brought back from his official trips?

All this had convinced the young man to become Prince Philip's lover, but also his confidant: it was to him that the Duke of Edinburgh told of his marital misfortunes and his doubts about his ability to be a good father for their children. And Piero felt privileged to be one of the few to know Philip's emotional wounds.

But what made their relationship so intense was when they had sex. Although the prince was a middle-aged man, he was an experienced and vigorous lover. The first time they had sex, they took their time to get to know each other's bodies better and to have fun.

The other times, the antics were more intense, even passionate ... as was the case last night, when they "celebrated" Philip's return from an official trip to America.

He remembered the feel of Philip's rough yet gentle hands on his body, their bodies moving against each other, their cries of pleasure filling the air... It was a pleasant experience, even if it was the umpteenth time they made love.

Of course, the two lovers would like to see each other more often, but they had to be discreet so as not to attract the attention of the media, let alone that of the Queen.

But hey, that didn't bother Piero who was delighted not to become the new darling of London.

Suddenly he felt Philip stretch and wake up. The prince turned to his lover and smiled at him:

"Hello, mein Liebe. You are very early."

"To believe that I took your bad habit!" the young man smiled.

"But it's not a bad habit to be early in the morning. On the contrary, it gives me more time to enjoy your presence ..." the duke replied before kissing his lover.

"Speaking of having time to spare, wasn't it today that you promised Charles to have lunch with him?"

"Damn, I almost forgot!" Philip exclaimed, hopping out of bed before rushing into the bathroom.

"What a scatterbrain!" Piero laughed while getting dressed.

"I heard you!"

"That was the goal, amore!" replied the young man, teasingly.

5 minutes later, the Duke comes out of the bathroom, ready to return to his obligations.

"Am I presentable?"

"Honestly, you are still handsome!"

Smiling, Philip kissed his lover's cheek:

"I'll call you tonight, I promise."

"I will wait impatiently for your call ... Come on, go join your son!"

"I'm going right now. See you tonight!"

"See you tonight!"

As the Duke left the house, Peter lay still on his bed, a thoughtful smile on his lips.

He was glad that the relationship between Philip and his children had improved, especially thanks to his advice.

Piero had relied on his life with his parents and siblings to empower his lover to be a more present father to his children.

Speaking of which, Piero would love to meet his lover's offspring: seeing how Philip talks about it, they must be very nice young people.

He would love to talk about the arts with Charles, who seemed to be very passionate about it.

He would also appreciate being able to walk with Anne and talk about lots of things or reassure her about her future as a young bride.

He would love to give fashion advice to Andrew who was already paying attention to his appearance when he was only 13 years old.

And he would be happy to spend time with Edward, the youngest of the siblings.

This boy worried his father a lot because he was silent and always seemed sad...

Suddenly the phone rang, interrupting Piero's thoughts.

He picked up the phone:

"Hello?"

"**Dear Piero, how are you?**"

"Oh, hello, Margaret. I'm fine, thank you. How about you?"

"**Oh, it's okay. As much as I wish I hadn't had tea with Sally Frodenborough! This woman is so boring, I thought I was going to fall asleep!**"

The young man laughed.

"Now do you understand why I politely decline her invitations for tea?"

"**You'll tell me so much ... But let's forget about it! Tell me instead about your relationship with my esteemed brother-in-law! How is it going?**"

"It's a fairy tale, I can't say better!"

Piero knew he owed it all to Margaret: she was the one who introduced them at that party at Kensington Palace. Since then, she had become an ally and a friend of the couple and did not hesitate to invite them to her home so that they could meet again.

All this with the benevolent complicity of her husband, Anthony.

Over time, the princess and the young artist became good friends, and she often invited Piero to have tea at her place.

"**Glad to hear that, darling. Besides, I have to say that your relationship is very positive for Philip. He is happier, more serene, and closer to his children. You did a great job!**"

"I only encouraged him, he did the rest!"

"**Don't be so modest! However, I think my sister is suspecting something!**"

Hearing this, Piero felt a chill run through his spine: if the queen ever learned that her husband was cheating on her with a simple artist, he feared the worst!

"When you say she suspects something, do you mean she suspects Philip of adultery?"

"**No, I wouldn't go that far. But she can see the change in Philip's mood and she knows it's not her responsibility. She's not really trying to find out, but let's be careful!**"

"You're right ... But, I admit that there are times I wish I could spend more time with Philip. I understand he's doing his best without raising suspicion, but ..."

"**I see what you mean, and I understand you ... Oh wait: I just got an idea!**"

"Again? But it never stops"

"**My dad always said I was the most imaginative of the family. Okay, here's what we could do...**"

A week later, at Buckingham Palace.

In one of the palace rooms, Queen Elizabeth was having tea with her mother, Queen Mum.

"But what is Margaret doing? She should have been here since 10 minutes ago!" the sovereign said impatiently.

"Don't be so harsh on your sister, Lilibeth. I've heard that traffic in London is a bit chaotic right now. If so, she got stuck in a traffic jam."

"Maybe ..." Elizabeth replied.

Suddenly a servant entered the room and announced:

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Margaret, your Majesty!"

"Finally, here she is! Let her in, thank you!"

The servant shifted and let Margaret in, accompanied by a dark, smartly dressed young man.

"Hello, my dear sister! Hello, mom! Sorry for the inconvenience, but there was an accident near Piccadilly Circus which disrupted all traffic. I thought we would never get there!"

"You see, Elizabeth: I was right ..."

"Indeed, mum. But tell me, Margaret, who is this man with you?"

"I was just going to explain it to you: you see, I thought back to your history of tutoring for Andrew and Edward. And it turns out that this young man, Piero De Angelis, worked as a tutor in very good families. Here, I have some letters of recommendation from them. " she said, handing out a few missives.

Elizabeth took the letters and read them in silence. After reading it, she said:

"My word, your former employers are heap praise on you, Mr. De Angelis. They compliment your pedagogy, your intellect, as well as your patience with children."

She gave a slight smile.

"Since my sister seems to find you suitable for her nephews, I think we can take you on for a trial period."

Piero respectfully bowed while giving the monarch a hand kiss.

"It would be a great honor for me to serve you, Your Majesty!"

"This young man looks very pleasant to me. In my opinion, your sons will be in good hands!" said the Queen Mother, amused.

"Thank you for placing your trust in me, Your Excellency!" Piero replied, giving a slight bow.

At the same time, the door opened and Philip entered the room.

"Ah, Philip: at the right time! I present to you Andrew and Edward's new tutor."

Seeing who it was, Philip thought he was having a heart attack: but what was Piero doing here? It was too risky!

When he saw Margaret by his side, it didn't take long for him to realize that she had yet come up with a completely crazy idea.

Straightening up slightly, he cleared his throat and politely said:

"Welcome, sir ..."

"My name is Piero De Angelis, Your Highness. It is a huge honor to meet you in person!"

The duke refrained from smiling: he had forgotten that his lover was an excellent actor. And he had just proven his talent in front of everyone!

"And how did he convince you to hire him?"

"He was warmly recommended to me by several high society families. All were satisfied with the work of Mr. De Angelis. It seemed logical to me to have a competent person to supervise the education of your youngest sons."

"Sounds perfectly fine to me!" replied the prince consort.

Satisfied with her husband's response, the Queen said:

"Perfect. Then maybe you could introduce Mister De Angelis to his future students?"

"But of course. If you will follow me, sir ..."

And as they were about to leave, Margaret followed on their heels:

"I'm going with them, just to make sure Philip would not terrorize the poor schoolmaster!"

"Hey, I am not a monster!" scoffed Philip.

The three left the room. The duke waited to be far from his wife to scolding his lover and his sister-in-law.

"What's got into you? Did you ever think about the risk of being caught?"

"Oh, don't be such a coward! I thought you would be pleased to have your lovebird here!" whispered Margaret.

"And I thought it would be easier for you if I work here. You won't have to find excuses to see me... Besides, I wanted to meet your children."

The prince consort raised an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me: I wanted to meet your children. You talked about them since we started dating, that I aspired to know them better."

Philip pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: it would be a miracle if Margaret and Piero did not drive him crazy. But, at least, he would manage to spend quality time with his sweetheart. So, why not take the risk?

"Fine, you convinced me. But, we have to intensify our discretion. Otherwise, we will be doomed!"

"I'll be careful, don't worry!" promised Piero as he gently held his lover's hand.

"Aw, you are so cute!" mockingly cooed Margaret.

"Please, Maggie: stop killing the mood!" grumbled the prince consort, rolling his eyes.

4 months later. August 1973.

"How do you find my drawing, Piero?"

"Let me look at it... Oh, it's beautiful! You have some talent, Edward!"

The young boy happily giggled: he really appreciated his new tutor. Unlike his predecessor, Piero was kind, patient, funny, and really interesting. Thanks to him, the little prince quickly understood his lesson by heart, and his grades improved. The same evolution can be noticed for Andrew: the teenager preferred learning with Piero to listening to his teachers at school.

"You think I am talented?"

"Absolutely! And for who you draw this?"

"For Anne! It would be her present for her wedding!"

"That's absolutely sweet, Edward. I am sure that she would love it!"

Speaking of the princess, she entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Mister De Angelis! Hello, Eddie!"

"Hi, Annie!"

"Good afternoon, Your Highness. How are you today?"

"Fine, thanks. I just come back from a horse-riding session with Mark!"

"Oh, lovely. How it went?"

"It went nice until it started raining. But we finished fast, so I would not soil the clean wooden floors of Buckingham Palace!" snickered Anne.

"Annie! Look what I've drawn for you!" cheerfully exclaimed Edward as he handed his drawing to his sister.

"Oh, thank you: I love it! I will show it to Mark: he would be impressed!"

"Can I draw something for him?"

"Why don't you ask him when he will come back?"

"Alright, I will wait!"

At the same time, Andrew entered the room, dressed in a nice suit.

"Good grief! I thought Mr. Brownsfield would never let us go!"

"Watch your language, young man! If your mother hears you, you will end up being lectured for hours!" gently advised Piero.

"I know, I know... But I am so relieved to be here!"

"I have noticed!"

Anne lightly cleared her throat.

"Piero, can we talk... in private with Andrew and you?"

"Of course! Edward, could you go with your grandmother? I have to discuss some important topics with your siblings."

"Are we finishing the lesson?"

"Yes, indeed. You can go!"

"Alright!" nodded the young boy as he exited the salon.

Soon as Edward left, the young man asked:

"What do you want to talk about, Anne?"

The princess sighed before answering:

"Well, it's about Charles... He is not well."

"Do you mean he is ill?"

"Depressed would be more accurate!"

"Oh, dear! And what depress him?"

Andrew explained:

"Well, his ex-girlfriend got married in July! And he did not really cope with their separation, months ago!"

Piero nodded: he knew that Charles was heart-broken since Camilla Shand, his former sweetheart, ended their love story last year. But he did not expect to be downcast to this point.

"And do you want me... to have a conversation with him?"

"Anne and I thought it would be helpful. After all, you are close to his age!"

"Mark tried to cheer his mood, but it did not work well!"

"Mh, I see... Fine, I will see what I can do!"

The two princes seemed relieved.

"Thank you for your help, Piero."

"That's what I am supposed to do. Where is he?"

"In the gardens. He needed some air..."

Thanking Anne and Andrew, Piero walked downstairs to the gardens where he found Charles, wandering like a lost soul.

"Charles?"

The Crown Prince looked at the schoolmaster and the latter saw deep grief in his eyes.

Slightly sighing, Piero kindly asked:

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I... I don't know."

"As you want. Perhaps it would take a weight off your mind..."

The prince breathed before asking:

"Could you walk with me... please?"

"Sure, of course."

The young man joined Charles, and they started walking through the gardens.

"I don't know how it happened... I should have known that she favored that Parker-Bowles over me! But I still clung to the last straw of hope until I heard of their engagement!"

"I'm sorry for your heartbreak, Charles. But that was another life lesson, even though it hurts..."

The Prince of Wales sadly sighed.

"And as if it was not painful enough, Mother still pressures me to find a suitable bride... Even Father worried about it!"

"You are only 25 years old: you will find her, I feel it!"

"If only my dear parents were as optimistic as you, Piero. But no, they repeated all day long that Father married Mother when he was my age, and I'm exhausted hearing it all the time!"

"What does your grandmother think about it?"

"She says that I should not hurry to find my future wife, because a hasty marriage would inevitably end in a disaster!"

Piero nodded.

"Your grandmother is right, Charles: if you only follow what your duties command, you will bitterly regret your decision for the rest of your life. Of course, you have to find your future Queen, but you must love her as much as she loves you!"

He saw tears forming in Charles's eyes.

"I know but... I feel like everything I do is not enough for my parents. Am I just a good for nothing?"

Instinctively, the young artist knew that he would break the etiquette... but who cares? So, he did hug Charles in a comforting embrace, gently stroking his back.

"It's okay, Charles. I am here."

The prince did not cry, but he felt relieved that someone finally comforted him, so he hugged back Piero.

"I know this is not very formal, but I thought it would help you!"

"To hell with formality! I needed someone listening to me..."

They stopped the hug and Charles stated:

"I understand why Andrew and Edward appreciated you, Mister De Angelis: your patience and your kindness are helpful for the four of us!"

Piero shrugged.

"I just... do what I think is the best for everyone!"

"And I am glad that someone like you ensures our well-being..."

The young man smiled.

"You have no idea how much I am honored to have your trust, Charles. Listen: I will talk with your parents about it, and we will sort it out!"

"Thank you, Piero."

Unbeknownst to the two men, Philip was looking at them from the window of his office. The Duke of Edinburgh smiled while seeing his lover bonding with his son: indeed, he was happy that his four children appreciated Piero. Even though neither of them is ready to tell the princes the truth about their relationship: they have to wait...

In the evening...

"Do you want your son going bonkers? Stop pressuring him about his love life!"

"But he is still unmarried! At his age..."

"Yes, yes, I know the story: at his age, you were already married to Elizabeth!"

Philip pinched the bridge of his nose: Piero and he argued about Charles's single status. His beloved artist thought that his eldest son would go down into depression because of the familial pressure.

"Piero, I understand your concern about Charles, but he knows his duties..."

"Oh, please: don't start lecturing me about duties! If you were that meticulous about duties, you would never choose to cheat on your wife!"

"Don't muddle up things, would you? She started the war!"

"Don't change the subject, would you? We are talking about your son, in case you forget it!"

Piero sighed.

"Charles believed that he felt like a failure towards you. And he can't count on his mother to dismiss his fears! For God's sake, be more supportive of your son!"

"But..."

"No buts! You have to admit that your eldest son is not your carbon copy!"

"I admitted it! But people start talking: he is unmarried, had no official girlfriends, and he prefers attending parties! Rumors are spreading all around the kingdom."

His lover gave him a dark look and said with a cold tone:

"Let me ask you this simple question, Philip of Edinburgh: what matters the most for you? The public image or the well-being of your son?"

Philip stayed silent, much to Piero's displeasure:

"Fine, I see... You know what? You have all night to think about it."

He turned his heels and walked away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Did you really think I will spend the rest of the night with someone who does not listen to my advice? I really want to help you, Philip, and especially because I love you. But if you don't pull your weight, there is nothing more I can do. Good night!"

As he watched his lover walking away from him, the prince stood, desperate and worried. He messed up everything with his children, and now he messed up his love affair!

Philip sighed: why everything was so complicated? But, he had to acknowledge that Piero was right: he went back to his wrong habits, once again.

And if he wanted to save what mattered the most to him, Philip had no other choice: he had to repair his faults...

14th November 1973.

The Westminster Abbey bells happily rang in the air. Indeed, the United Kingdom celebrated the wedding of Princess Anne and Captain Mark Phillips. A joyous day for the kingdom, and also for the royal family... Well, almost for Philip. Of course, he was so proud to walk his daughter down the aisle: what kind of father would not be happy for his child on this special day?

But what saddened the prince consort was that Piero barely talked to him since their argument about Charles. He could not blame him: the young man cared more about Charles, Anne, Andrew, and Edward than their own mother.

As he watched his lovely Anne and Mark exchanging their vows, the prince spotted Piero, sitting near the Duchess of Gloucester.

He knew that his wife allowed the presence of the young man at the ceremony to look after Edward, who was the page boy of his sister.

Piero was dashing in his pearl-grey suit, his white gloves, and his perfectly combed dark hair. Philip never ceased to be amazed by the angelic beauty of his lover. If only they did not argue 4 months ago, the prince would have already told the young artist how amazing he was.

But the young man was not inclined to speak with him yet, and this situation saddened Philip.

Meanwhile, Margaret saw the two lovers with a sad smile: she hoped that this argument between Piero and Philip would not last long, as she feared it would break her brother-in-law's heart. She knew that the young Mister De Angelis was the only one for Philip, and she could not let this match made in heaven falling apart.

Margaret smiled as she got another idea: the wedding reception will be the perfect occasion for a reconciliation...

Soon as they reached Buckingham Palace for the wedding lunch, Margaret whispered to Philip:

"Please, I know that you suffer, but talk to him!"

"I want to, but every time I look in his eyes... I only see anger and sadness. And I am the one who upset him!"

She gently patted his shoulder.

"You know what? Weddings are the best occasion to prove our love... or heal a relationship."

She winked before walking away, congratulating the newlyweds. As he thought about Maggie's musings, Philip smirked: after all, he learned to never give up what he held dear. And he would never give up on Piero...

Later that day, as the guests were too busy dancing, gossiping, or enjoying food, the prince slipped away from the crowd and wandered in the corridors when he spotted Piero in a room, retouching his make-up.

Smiling, Philip entered and said:

"Oh, dear: you do not need to change anything. You are already beautiful!"

Startled, the young artist stammered:

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, I think.

Piero raised an eyebrow:

"Really? About what?"

Philip closed the door behind him before answering:

"We need to talk about us. It feels like years since I hold you in my arms..."

"And why you do not hold me in your arms, precisely?"

The prince sighed.

"Because of my stubbornness, we are apart. And I regret it every second since that night. You were right from the beginning, Piero: what is the purpose of your help if I did not listen to your advice? I should have known that you're the right person since you only wanted the best for me. My words might sound hollow, but I will be grateful to you for being here when I felt alone!"

The young man sighed before looking at his royal lover with a sheepish smile:

"I had to confess: at first, I did not speak to you because I wanted to be sure you learned your lesson. But then... I took pleasure letting you stew for a moment."

Philip was shocked.

"Are you bloody kidding me?"

"Not at all. Besides... I already forgive you, my stubborn Viking!"

The prince smirked:

"And they said Arlequin is the trickster in chief... Looks like they underestimated Pierrot!"

"And you love it!"

"Oh yes!"

Piero laughed wholeheartedly. Then, he stated:

"So, you said that you missed the sensation of holding me..."

He opened his arms:

"Why don't we make up for lost time?"

Philip did not need to be asked twice and rushed into his arms, kissing him feverishly. Their hands rediscovered their bodies, every touch drawing breathed moans of pleasure from the two lovers.

"I love you, Piero."

"Ti amo, Philip."

And while the kingdom celebrated the wedding, the prince and the artist rejoiced in their reunion.

June 1975. Balmoral Castle.

The summer went well for the royal family, and everyone appreciated the peacefulness of the Scottish countryside. For Piero, it was like discovering another place. He was amazed by the soft colors of the countryside and the calm surroundings, far from the lively Londonian life.

To be honest, he did not expect the Queen to invite him to spend some days at Balmoral, but apparently, Edward insisted, and she accepted. How could he refuse the opportunity to be closer to his dear Philip?

However, they both tried to be careful as he did not want to be caught by Elizabeth or the Queen Mother.

But everything changed one day, as Elizabeth left with some of her friends for a horse-riding stroll with some of her friends, and her dear Mister Acherville.

It did not bother Philip, as he took advantage of her absence to spend some time with his dear artist. Once his wife went away, he looked for Piero until he found him in the gallery room, looking at the different pictures hanging on the walls.

Coming near to him, the prince gently held the young man from behind and said:

"Are you judging the quality of the paintings?"

"Well, I have to be honest that the painters were talented. Your wife should add your own paintings!"

"Seriously? She said it would look out of place... Besides, you are far more talented than me!"

Piero chuckled:

"You flatterer!"

"It is the truth! You're my perfect little Da Vinci!"

The young man turned around and put his arms around Philip's neck:

"And you're my handsome Saint John the Baptist with a mischievous smile!"

"You like my mischievous part of me!"

"No, I don't like it... I adore it!" chuckled Piero before kissing his lover.

Amused, the prince answered the kiss with the same passion... until they heard a collective gasp of shock!

They turned around and saw Charles, Anne, Mark, Andrew, and Edward who stood near the door, astounded and silent.

Horrified, Philip stammered:

"I... I can explain everything..."

"You better explain, yes!" said Anne with a cold tone.

Mark closed the door behind them, preventing any gossiping from the staff.

"Now that we are alone, can you explain what happens?"

"This scene does not really need an explanation..." smirked Charles.

Ashamed, the prince started to explain:

"I guess that we do not have the choice. As you have noticed, your mother and I do not have a good relationship for some years. I thought that it would improve, but she decided to spend some time with another man. I was so desperate, and I neglected you - and I am sorry for that. And then, your aunt Margaret introduced me to Piero..."

"Auntie Maggie and her plans!" snickered Andrew.

"You got the point, Andrew. And so, at the very moment I knew Piero, I felt like something changed... To be honest, I felt that I fell in love again. I would be forever grateful to Piero for everything he did for me."

"Was it your idea to hire him as Andrew and Edward's tutor?" asked Charles.

"No, it was again Margaret's idea. And I saw how you felt better since he spends time with all of you!"

"Do you plan to tell us the truth one day?" asked Andrew.

"We aspired to, but I do not want you to see me as an intruder in your family. But I can assure you that I deeply love your father as he loves me!" explained Piero.

The five young people looked at each other before Edward answered:

"You know, Mister Piero, I don't mind if you are in love with Papa. Besides, you love all of us more than Mum does. So, I am happy to have you here with us!"

"He is right: at least, you listen to us and you try to encourage us, unlike Mother!" added Andrew.

"I do not really care about my parents' affairs, as we all know that their marriage is doomed. But now, let's be honest, Piero: you made him happy, and it matters the most for us!" stated Charles with a genuine smile.

"I have to confess that this is quite unusual... But, my dear Anne has a high opinion of you, Mister De Angelis, and so am I. Don't worry, we won't tell anyone about your affair!" smiled Mark.

"You see, Father, we all support you, and we are happy to have Piero with us at Buckingham Palace. So, there is no need to worry." grinned Anne.

The two lovers sighed with relief: at least, they accepted their relationship.

"Thank you very much!" breathed Philip with a slight smile.

"You're welcome, Father. But, the next time you want to show Piero your affection... Try being discreet!" laughed Andrew.

"He takes that from you, dear!" chuckled Piero.

"I guess so..." sighed Philip, even if he could not help smiling.

It looked like, after all, that they gained new allies...

27 August 1979.

In his house, Piero was dozing on his couch, reading a collection of poetry works by Oscar Wilde while he listened to some trendy music on the radio.

Suddenly, he heard the voice of a journalist interrupting the music:

"Ladies and gentleman, we interrupt our program as dreadful news has just been released by Buckingham Palace: today, Lord Louis Mountbatten, Admiral of the Fleet and former Viceroy of India, has been killed by a bomb planted aboard his fishing boat while he was spending his holiday with his family in his summer home in Mullaghmore, in the north-west of Ireland.

We deplored also the tragic loss of his grandson Nicholas Knatchbull and Paul Maxwell, a young local crew member. The remaining people present on the boat when the attack happened, suffered from serious injuries and were transported to the closest hospital..."

Piero dropped his book, troubled: it could not be! He rushed to his phone and dialed Philip's number. After a few seconds, he heard his lover's voice:

"**Hello?**"

"Philip, it's me! I have just heard about your uncle! Is that true?"

The slight sobbing on the other side of the phone answered his question:

"**They... They murdered him, Piero! They killed him! And they took his grandson's life! How dared they?**"

"I am terribly sorry for your loss, my love. I know how much he was a loved one to you..."

After all, Louis Mountbatten was not only the uncle of Philip: he was his paternal figure, a role model he praised so many times. Piero could not imagine how his lover suffered from this tragic loss.

"My condolences, amore mio. You are in my prayers, you and your family. I hope that the injured will recover soon."

"I hope so... Thank you for your call."

"You're welcome. How are the children?"

"Charles is deeply upset, Anne is crying, Andrew cannot believe it, and Edward tried to cope with this tragedy."

"I imagine... Don't hesitate to comfort them."

"I will... I am sorry, but I have to quit: Elizabeth required my help to organize the funeral. I'll call you later."

"Don't worry, it's fine. See you later, my love."

"See you later, angelo mio!"

As he hung up, Piero felt bad for Philip: his lover endured so many hardships in his life that the young man wondered if he can handle this new tragedy...

5th September 1979.

Sitting in his living-room, Peter watched the funeral of Louis Mountbatten on television. He watched the royal family, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and her husband Denis, and some major figures of the kingdom attending the obsequies, all dressed in black and showing a sad expression on their faces.

The young man wished he could attend the funeral, just to be here for Philip and comforting him. But it was the mourning of a family, and he did not belong to this family...

Later that day, he heard a knock on his door.

"I don't remember to entertain someone today..." muttered Piero as he opened the door.

Much to his surprise, Philip stood there.

"Philip? But what are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you... Because I have something to tell you. May I come in?"

"Of course!"

The young man stepped aside and let the prince enter the house. Then, he closed the door behind him and asked:

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright. May I know what are doing here?"

He noticed that Philip held a large box under his arm.

"Hm, what is this?"

The duke sighed before explaining:

"Since the murder of my uncle, I thought about everything that happened in my life, both good and bad memories. And then, I thought about us, and I realize how important you are to me since we started our relationship. I wish I had met you sooner, but there we are. This tragedy casts light on the most significant person in my life: you."

He opened the box, revealing a golden crown before he put the ornament at Piero's feet. Then, he gets on one knee and said:

"You deserve everything, Piero. And moreover, you would be a wonderful consort. That's why I wanted to put a crown at your feet..."

"Wait for a second: it looks like a proposal... But you are already married!"

"I know, I know. I cannot divorce Elizabeth, and I think you understand that. But it is my way to say that I will belong to you, and you only for the rest of my life. And I wanted to know if you feel the same..."

Piero nervously chuckled.

"Oh Lord, that was unexpected!"

He kneeled near Philip and replied:

"I won't ask you to nullify your marriage, because I know what are the consequences. But I am moved by your gesture, and if you want to know, I will never look at someone else the way I am looking at you. I love you, Philip Mountbatten, and it won't change..."

"I love you too, Piero De Angelis." smiled Philip, relieved, before he kissed Piero.

As they tightly held each other, the two lovers felt like the sadness was less oppressive. They had the impression that nothing could tear them apart and they will surpass everything together.

October 1979.

"So, tell me more about this charming girl. What is her name, already?"

"Her name is Diana. Diana Spencer."

"What a lovely name! Is she the daughter of Count John Spencer?"

"Exactly."

Walking through the halls of Buckingham Palace, Charles and Piero were talking about the Crown Prince's new girlfriend, the young Diana Spencer.

"I know that you're dating her for perhaps one month, but how is your relationship?"

"Quite good, to be honest. She is calm, smiling, quite smart... Of course, she had different hobbies than mine but... I guess it's alright."

"I would like to meet her. I can invite both of you to my place if you want."

"It would be a pleasure."

A servant arrived.

"Mister De Angelis."

"Yes?"

"Her Majesty The Queen requires your presence in her office. If you please follow me..."

Piero was intrigued: why would the Queen want to see him?

"Alright, I arrive. See you later, your Highness."

"See you later, Mister De Angelis."

Piero followed the servant until they arrived in front of the door. The man knocked at the door before he announced:

"Mister De Angelis, Your Majesty."

"Perfect, George. Good afternoon, Mister De Angelis."

"Your Majesty," replied Piero.

The servant left the room.

The young man politely said:

"Your Majesty, I renew my condolences after the tragic loss of Lord Mountbatten... I shall say that I share your pain."

The Queen answered in a neutral tone:

"Thank you for your consideration, Mister De Angelis. However, the pain is not the only thing we share..."

Puzzled, Piero asked:

"May I know what are you talking about?"

She looked at him with contempt:

"Don't you dare think I am a fool, Mister De Angelis? I have learned that you have an affair with my husband!"

Piero stared in amazement: how could she know about it? He was sure none of the children told their mother, neither Margaret nor Philip. So, it must be a servant...

"I am astounded by such accusations, Your Majesty. Your husband and I have only cordial relationships, and that's all!"

"Stop spreading your lies. I know that you are the mysterious person my husband comes to see almost every day."

She came closer to him and snarled:

"I gave you my trust, I even left my children with you, and this is how you thanked me?"

Usually, the young artist would have lowered his head and being ashamed. But this time, he stared defiantly at her and said with a cold tone:

"Maybe I would be the rudest man in your kingdom, Your Majesty, but I can't stand such hypocrisy. Especially when it comes from someone who hurt her children and cheated on her devoted husband..."

"How dare you?!"

"I can ask you the same. You did not expect that I knew your dirty little secrets, am I right? After all, your lover was not really careful: he put his latest love letter in my office. What a big mistake!"

He restrained himself from smiling as he saw Elizabeth grew pale.

"But, I am a gentleman: I won't tell the media about your romance if you let us alone. Otherwise, the entire Commonwealth will hear about his adulterous Queen..."

"You have some nerve to threaten me as you do, Mister De Angelis..."

"I don't threaten, I warn: this is all the difference. After all, you would not have hesitated to destroy my life. Let's say that we are on equal terms for now..."

Suddenly, Philip and Margaret burst through the door.

"Ah, right in time, Philip. I have just tell Mister De Angelis that I knew about your affair."

As Philip was shocked, Margaret raised an eyebrow.

"And then? It's not like Philip was the only guilty!"

"You were supposed to support me, not to defy me!" snapped Elizabeth.

"How am I supposed to do that, as you enjoy belittle all your family members - it is a miracle that Mother is the only exception. And you deserve what happened..."

"Should I understand that you are behind this?"

"Absolutely, and I won't regret anything I did! And I am so glad that Philip has someone who did what you are supposed to do!"

The Queen fumed as she understood that her sister and her husband joined forces against her.

Philip added:

"You see, Elizabeth: you throw me away, but I won't running after you anymore. I finally find love again, and if you dare to mess up everything, I would not mind telling your friends about your relationship with Acherville."

Seething, Elizabeth raised her head in an arrogant gesture and declared:

"That is not going to happen for long, Philip. You know where your place is, and you will give this entertainer up!"

"I don't think so, dear wife. I am not the one who gives up so easily..."

He smirked.

"Now that you know everything, shall we leave you?"

"You're dismissed. Now, go!" she replied with a short tone.

The trio left the room, a relieved smile on their faces. However, they won't drop their guard, as they knew how embittered Elizabeth can be.

But it looked like she lost the war. Now, it was Philip and Piero's turn to conquer Buckingham Palace...

To be continued...

N.B: This request is written like an AU and changed many things from the characters to the events.

Please be kind and comprehensive and don’t snap about it!

Anyway, I hope you liked the story and I am waiting for your requests.

See you soon! 😘😷😍🥰💖

#requests #the crown #the crown au #prince philip #queen elizabeth ii #princess margaret #matt smith #drew roy #claire foy #vanessa kirby

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Note

(2/?) weekend, starring Connor & Nines platonic/brother relationship, canon!verse

//I love this

Early after his deviation, Nines would have answered with a curt almost offended ‘No’ if he was ever asked if he had family. Then one of his predecessor models had glued himself to Nines. Connor checked in on him constantly. At first it had been annoying, and Nines had been dismissive if not outright combative about it. Then the RK800 had been hurt in the line of duty, and suddenly that pillar Nines hadn’t known he needed was gone. He didn’t know how to navigate his fledgling feelings without him around. When Connor came back it was Nines who checked on him constantly. Lingering like a tall sinister shadow. He didn’t know what else to abate what he had come to Identify as worry. Unlike Nines, Connor had been receptive of the constant company. When Nines had asked him about it he had simply smiled. They were a family now. Having a brother was, odd, but not unpleasant Richard found. He had someone who was almost always in his corner. There to help when things got to be too much. He learned a few things about Connor he probably wouldn’t have learned otherwise. His love of animals for one. Everyone knew he adored dogs, but as it turned out he had a soft spot for any animal he came across. The difference in Connor while he was at work and Connor when he was off the clock. He went from a composed, some times even dangerous detective, the one that knew all your cards no matter how close you held them to your chest; to what amounted to a bright eyed child, he was curious about everything and would talk to anyone who had the answers. The first couple of times it had been jarring, but Nines knew now it was how he dealt with having a foot in each world. He worked closely with his base code at work, but once that was over RK800 was put away and the real Connor came out. Nines might have been the younger of the two, but he would do anything in his power to protect that bright eyed wonder in Connor’s eyes.

Connors official activation date was coming up and Nines had made plans for the weekend. A small party Friday evening with friends, and then spending the weekend at Connor’s apartment. Keeping the party a secret was difficult because of his own excitement and that of their friends. From the saline tears in Connor’s eyes and the bright smile he assumed the surprise was a success. Connor turned and hugged Nines tight enough it would have hurt if he was human. “This is amazing, thank you.” He said once he had collected himself. Nines smiled, “You’re welcome. How else was I supposed to express how many people appreciate my little brother.” Connor narrowed his eyes but didn’t take the bait this time. The party was a success, Connor enjoyed himself and everyone else seemed to have fun too. It was a thing to observe. Connor tried to pull him into it a couple of times but Nines was more one for people watching than actively interacting. The party dispersed after a few hours and the duo caught a cab back to Connor’s apartment. Connor had gotten a few gifts, most dog themed, Nines had gotten him a Dwarf Gourami patterned mug for his thirium.

Connor’s apartment was more furnished than other android apartments. He had a full living room, a guest room designed to be comfortable for both humans and androids, and his room had a bed in it as well. He had a small kitchen as well, most androids forwent that particular customization, but Connor had just as many human friends as he did android ones so it made sense that his home would have influences from both. When they got to the apartment Nines made himself at home while Connor put away the gifts from his birthday. Nines swelled with pride as the mug he had gotten his brother was placed where it could easily be seen. When that was done Connor made his way to where Nines had settled in on the couch and sat beside him. He connected to tv and turned it on for background noise. Connor had come to dislike absolute silence. He needed some kind of noise in the background. “Thanks again for tonight. It was fun.” He said with a smile. “Of course Connor. Its your birthday, and parties seem to be the custom.” Nines said as he relaxed into the couch some, mimicking Connor’s slightly slouched posture. Something he had probably picked up from Hank without noticing. They spent the next few hours talking and listening to what was on the tv until Connor decided to get ready for stasis. When he was in pajamas, another thing Nines didn’t understand, he came back out into the living room to say good night. “I’m gonna go into stasis for a bit. You can keep watching tv or do whatever. The guest room is open if you want to get some rest as well.” Connor gestured to the door to the guest room, despite Nines already knowing the floor plan. “Sleep well Connor.” Nines said in response as the shorter android retreated down the hall.

Saturday found them lounging around the apartment comparing notes on a few cases until Connor get distracted by a commercial for the Detroit Zoo. Nines knew what he was going to suggest before he turned back toward Nines, but the bigger android let him speak. “Would you like to go to the zoo once we finish these up?” He asked with bright eyes. “Sure. I haven’t gotten to go yet.” Nines responded. “It will be fun.” They worked through the reports a little faster now that that they had motivation. By ten in the morning they were in a cab on the way to the Detroit Zoo. Connor was all but vibrating in excitement. He was prattling off all the things they could do when they got there, and Nines listened despite having access to all the same information. He didn’t get to see Connor this excited very often and it was a nice change of pace. When they arrived Connor paid and disappeared into the Saturday crowd leaving Nines to trail after him. He took the place behind Connor in line. “I never thought I would have to tell a grown android not to run off.” He remarked dryly, despite the amused smile curling at his lips. Connor turned to face him still grinning, “I’m excited Nines. I’ve never been to a zoo before.” “Neither have I, but you don’t see me running around like a child.” He responded. Connor rolled his eyes, “That’s because you’re boring.” Nines shoved him. careful of the other people in line and didn’t deign that with a response. He was excited, but like most other things he chose not to express it. Connor had it covered well enough for them both. When they were admitted Connor spent hours dragging Nines from exhibit to exhibit. It was nice. They took in the available facts and watched a couple of the shows. Nines went into the reptile enclosure on his own because it was a little too enclosed for Connor’s liking. In the way that all good tourists did, they stopped by the gift shop. Nines bought a wolf plush for Connor, and tiger print coffee mug for Gavin. Connor bought a lot of things, most of them were for him, but he had gotten a bobble head of a particularly grumpy looking lion for Hank and an oversized snake plush for Nines. He adored it, privately of course. Connor had gotten a perfectly composed “thank you” but Nines was beaming on the inside. With Connor it was the little things he used to express he cared. They topped off on thirium when they got back to the apartment and talked well into the night. Neither of them going into stasis, too busy going back over the day and relishing in the memory.

Sunday was a lazy day, time to themselves before they got back to work on Monday. Connor had music playing softly in the background as he and Connor attempted to play some of the older video games Hank and Gifted him as they were intended rather than interfacing with the controllers and it was a time. Playing games based off of reflex instead of access to their code was difficult, but doing well gave a rush that had Nines understanding why humans loved it so much. When evening rolled around Nines found himself not wanting to leave, but he had to since they both had work in the morning. “See you tomorrow Connor.” Nines said when they were at the door. “See you tomorrow Nines.” Connor said with a smile as he gave Nines one last hug. “Thanks for this weekend. It was fun.” “It really was.” He said with a smile. He gave another wave and left. He was looking forward to the next weekend they could do something like this again.

@i-am-therefore-i-fight //ngl this ask makes me want to go to the zoo

(Prompt from this list)

#Canonverse short #'short'#dbh #dbh fic #rk900 #dbh nines #rk800 #dbh connor #ask event #ask panda #panda has all the answers!#90 follower ask event!#90 followers!!!

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professional-benaddict · 4 years

Text

🖤 shoelaces 🐾 starker petplay au

A collab between @rustedstarker and @professional-benaddict

Daddy/master Tony, +18 puppy Peter, vet Stephen, dog and cat hybrids are known, dog-boys (Peter has ears, tail, teeth etc), medical examination, medical procedures, whump, hurt, comfort, fluff, 5k

Or Peter swallows a shoelace.

Peter sat fidgeting on the floor, batting his favourite toy back and forth between his hands as he waited impatiently for his owner, Tony, to come home. Every so often he looked up at the clock, waiting for the moment that the big hand would reach the bottom of the face, which is when his owner said he would be home from work. His ears were drooping a little as he huffed, leaning in close to head-butt his stuffed octopus once and then crawling away from it. Peter moved to sit by the penthouse windows, gazing out at the city below and wondering where Tony was in relation to their home.

Tony knew he was screwed as he stopped for another red light. It was like the world was against him today, and the CEO honked his horn at the traffic ahead, although he knew it was pointless. It was Tony’s promise to his pet that was making him so impatient and frustrated, because he knew he was going to be late, and thus he would have to deal with a dog-boy in a foul mood as soon as he arrived. Everything just became worse as Tony knew that with every minute that ticked by, Peter’s mood would be worse and worse.

Peter was now staring at the clock, and as the big hand passed the bottom of the clock, there was no sign of Tony. The dog-boy growled under his breath, and headed back over to the couch he had been sat in front of. He picked up the stuffed octopus between his teeth and tossed it aside, not interested in playing with it any more. As he looked around the penthouse floor, he spotted a pair of Tony's shoes by the front door, and immediately went over to them. He picked one up between his teeth, and began gnawing at it while rolling on his back. The leather was hard, but broken in by how often Tony wore those shoes, and Peter had no trouble chewing on them out of boredom. He also gave a few tugs to the shoelaces, pulling them out of their holes. In his boredom, Peter had managed to pull one of the shoelaces out of Tony's shoes, and swallowed it. Panicking at the realisation of what he had done, the dog-boy hurried to the bathroom. There, he bent double over the toilet, trying his best to retch in the hopes that vomiting would get the shoelace back up, but it was no use.

Fuck, it was almost 6 pm already, which meant Tony was late by half an hour. To some, it may not seem like a lot, but after owning Peter for the past three years, Tony knew that half an hour is an eternity in Peter’s eyes. And an eternity equals betrayal. The CEO hurried up to his penthouse, counting the seconds as he made his way up the elevator. Finally, he reached his floor and went to open his front door.

“Peter? Daddy’s so sorry, I got held back at work and traffic was terrible.” Tony started once he had unlocked the door. But, there was no sight of Peter. “Peter?” Tony called out again, stumbling a bit over his shoes that lay in the middle of the hallway. He pushed them aside without much thought, too busy to notice that one shoelace was missing.

“Daddy!” Peter wailed in response. He very rarely responded to talking properly, much preferring to use his ears and tail to show his mood, but this was different. At Peter’s wail, Tony felt his stomach drop in dread. The tone of the wail was urgent, to say the least, and the man rushed to the bathroom where he heard the wailing come from.

“Peter, what’s going on?” Tony asked and with a few quick strides, he came over to Peter by the toilet. His first thought was that his dog-boy was sick, so he put a hand to his forehead, but found his temperature to be normal. “Are you sick, puppy love? Talk to Daddy now.” The man urged, knowing hybrids’ tendencies to use their body language rather than speaking. But, Tony really needed Peter to cooperate here.

“I-“ The effort of trying to vomit made Peter cough for a few seconds, and he looked pained as he did so. “I-I'm sorry, I- I was fiddling with your sh-shoes, and then I- I swallowed a sh-shoelace. I didn't mean to, I promise!” He whimpered, still coughing in the hopes that it would bring the lace back up.

“You swallowed a what?” Tony asked, his brows knit together in a completely baffled expression. It was common for dogs to eat and swallow inappropriate things, but Tony would have honestly expected more from a dog-boy. Still, this was not the time for lecturing, and Tony swiftly picked Peter up and brought him out of the bathroom. He did not feel comfortable extracting the shoelace on his own at all, so he needed some professional help.

Peter whined as he was suddenly picked up, and carried like a baby back to their bedroom. Peter had his own, separate dog bed that he enjoyed sleeping on, but today Tony placed him down on the king-sized bed in the centre of the room and told him to wait while he made a phone call. The dog-boy whimpered, and curled up into a tight ball with his face hidden from view.

“Strange and Palmer Hybrid Clinic, how may I help you?”

“I need to speak to Doctor Strange.”

“I- I’m afraid he is occupied at the moment in surgery. What seems to be the problem?”

“Then put me through to the ORs or whatever you need to do, just get me in touch with Doctor Strange.”

“Sir-”

“Tell him it’s Tony Stark, and it is urgent.”

“... I’ll see what I can do.”

Peter could not hear much of the conversation, only Tony’s stern tone as he talked to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Peter groaned, and his ears fell flat on his head with nerves. Even his tail was drooped, curled up behind him as he waited for his owner to come back into the room.

After a few minutes of waiting, Tony finally heard a familiar baritone voice at the other end of the line.

“Doctor Strange speaking-“

“Peter ate a shoelace.”

“... Bring him over. Don’t give him anything to eat or drink, just bring him over. I’ll be here once you arrive.”

And with that, Tony did not need to say nor hear anything else and ended the call. The CEO and vet in question have been friends for a few years now, and they always have a fun time hanging out. The dog-boy, on the other hand, is not particularly fond of the vet, but not because he is unpleasant, but rather because of the things that entail meeting the vet. It always involves poking and a level of discomfort for some time. Still, Peter is smart, so Tony does not try to hide where they are going as he goes to scoop Peter up into his arms again.

“And off to the vet we go…”

Peter instantly made a noise of complaint at the mention of the vet. He hated being prodded and poked, and going to the vet often meant getting injections of some kind. He knew there was no use in objecting to it, but he still whined pitifully and squirmed in the man’s arms as he was carried out of the bedroom and across the penthouse to the elevator.

“You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, puppy.” Tony soothed as they got into the elevator and rode down to the cars in the basement. “I know you don’t like this, but it has to be done.” He added, then put Peter in his cage in the cat for the ride, adding another blanket under him just in case he threw up. It would not be a long drive, but still Tony had learned how to take the necessary precautions when it came to his precious, and expensive, pet.

Peter hated the cage. He liked being in the front seat with Tony when he drove, with his head out of the window trying to catch raindrops on his tongue if it was raining. Being put in the cage in the backseat was boring, with nothing to look at, and the dog-boy sadly curled up on his blanket with his tail between his legs. By the time they had gotten to the vet, Peter was subdued and sullen, and did not fight when Tony lifted him up out of the cage.

Just a second after mentioning his name at the reception at the hybrid clinic, Stephen Strange came through and gestured for Tony to come with him. Rather than putting his pet down, Tony carried Peter the whole way. And as they walked, Tony could feel how Peter was beginning to tremble in his arms. He kissed his pup in between his ears lovingly. Despite his fear and wish to just escape and make a run for it, Peter was grateful for how Tony was holding him all the way to the exam room.

“I’m sorry, but we gotta do this, pup...”

“So, when did he swallow the shoelace?” Stephen asked as he led Tony to a free exam room. Tony put his precious pet on the metal exam table, but kept his hands on him still to sooth him. As he was set down on the table, the dog-boy instantly recoiled at how cool the metal felt against his skin, and whined in protest. His ears were pinned back against his head nervously, and he watched Strange move around the room with a wary eye.

“I’m not sure, I just came back from work and found him by the toilet trying to throw up.”

“Before Daddy came home. 10... 10 minutes.” Peter mumbled. He did not want to speak at all, but he knew it would make the process more difficult if he did not.

“Good boy, Peter. Thank you for telling.” Stephen praised and Tony stroked in between the boy’s tense ears. Based on the dog-boy’s body language, he was very uncomfortable, and Tony’s heart ached at knowing it would get worse before it would get better.

“Has he thrown up?” Stephen asked next, getting some gloves to do a quick exam before sedating the pet for the inevitable procedure needed to extract the ingested shoelace.

Both Peter and Tony said ‘no’ at the same time, Peter’s voice more high-pitched and wavering, nervous of what was going to happen next. As each second passed, Peter was becoming less and less soothed by Tony’s petting, his eyes wide and flitting all over the room. There were posters all over the place depicting different hybrid structures, both canine and feline, male and female. Peter tried to read them as a distraction, but could not keep his attention on them long enough.

“Okay, puppy, I’m gonna have a look at you now.” Stephen warned gently as he approached the exam table from where he had logged in his brief observations of Peter in his chart. “Just hold him up and keep him distracted.” The vet instructed to Tony, who nodded in response and got Peter up on all fours before stroking his ears and kissing at his nose.

“You’re okay, pup.” Tony said in between the kisses.

While Peter was standing up, Stephen started to gently feel the dog-boy’s abdomen, feeling for any tenderness or swelling. Peter could not squirm much from where Tony was holding him up. He was still upset though, and so avoided making eye contact with Tony as Strange began feeling around his abdomen. He whimpered gently, hating the way that Strange poked him. He hated everything about this, and pursed his lips uncomfortably while his ears still stayed flopped back against his head.

“Shh, I know, I know.” Stephen cooed as he continued to feel Peter’s abdomen for a few more moments before letting go. To make up for the discomfort he caused, he stroked the dog-boy’s back, watching as his tail twitched a bit, but remained in between his legs in a fearful position. “Okay, so since it hasn’t been long since he swallowed the shoelace, it’s probably still in his stomach. We’ll have to sedate him to carry out the ultrasound and then go in with the scope to remove it.” The vet explained while still stroking Peter’s back. Tony looked up as he listened to Stephen, but still cupped his pet’s face in his hands and stroked at his ear.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, I’ll just grab a sedative now. Time isn’t exactly on our side with this.” Stephen said and went to retrieve a syringe. “Usually, we give them treats to distract from the shot, but he can’t eat anything, so just do what you did earlier.”

Peter whined again. He could hear Strange moving around behind him, and Tony’s attempts of soothing him were not working. He eventually pulled his face away from Tony’s touch and hid himself by tucking his head in under his arms, trembling with fear.

“You’re okay, puppy, you’re okay. It’s just a little pinch and then you’ll have a nice nap.” Tony assured, but Peter did not seem comforted in the slightest. Gesturing to let Peter lay down, Stephen took a hold of the pup’s thigh, using his weight to hold the limb in place. After exchanging a quick look with Tony, the vet injected the pet swiftly.

A sharp yelp of pain came from Peter’s throat as he was injected, and he looked up from where he previously had his face buried in the crook of his arm to glare at Strange for injecting him. The sedative quickly took over though, and the dog-boy relaxed against the table with his eyes fluttering shut. Once the dog-boy fell unconscious, Stephen carefully straightened his neck out to secure an open airway, then stroked back the pup’s soft ears.

“I got him from here, you don’t have to worry, Tony.” The vet reassured the clearly anxious owner. After giving his pet a kiss, or maybe a dozen, Tony finally left, although reluctantly.

A short while later, Stephen had gotten a team of two nurses and an assistant to assist him with the dog-boy and had him transported to be treated. First, they did x-rays and an ultrasound to locate the shoelace, then had Peter readied in surgery to have the foreign object removed endoscopically. The dog-boy pulled through the procedure with perfect stats and all members of staff who saw him could not resist the urge to stop and coo at him. All hybrids are incredibly expensive due to their luxurious status and beauty, but it was clear that Peter was an exception. Everyone said how lucky Tony was to have him, and Stephen could hardly disagree as he looked at the still sedated and stunning pet on his procedure table.

After the successful extraction of the shoelace, Stephen had Peter brought to recovery to come around from the anaesthesia on a cozy bed on the floor and with a blanket over him. Since Tony was a friend of his, Stephen had volunteered to stay in recovery to wait for Peter to come around, surprising a few nurses by doing so. But, the vet did not mind, and did some paperwork till he heard a soft groan and the shuffling of fabric, which indicated that his precious patient was starting to wake.

As Peter started to come to, he groaned gently. His ears swivelled on his head as he tried to gauge where he was, but his attention was quickly taken by how soft the bed and blanket combo was. He settled back down, feeling slightly groggy. He also felt hurt from having to go to the vet at all, he always hated it here. As not to startle the dog-boy, Stephen carefully approached him and offered the back of his hand to let the pup sniff him.

“Hey, puppy... You sleepy? I bet you feel real weird now, but you’re okay.” The vet comforted.

Peter looked up to see Strange’s hand in front of him. He sniffed at the hand gently, but backed away from it when he realised that it was the vet. The dog-boy was still mad for being prodded and examined, and most importantly injected, so he curled up under his blanket and hid himself so that Strange could not talk to him any more. Tony did not even seem to be here, which Peter could tell by the lack of his owner’s smell in the room, which only made the pup more upset.

The vet was hardly offended by the pup’s reluctance to socialise with him, and just let his patient be. It was almost hilarious how some patients seem to adore him more than their owners, while the other half hated his guts.

“Your Daddy will be here real soon, and then you’ll be on your way.” Stephen assured and headed out to let Tony know that his pet was awake and ready to be collected soon. Peter ignored the vet as he left, and continued sulking with his tail firmly between his legs. He did not want to see his Daddy, not when Tony was the reason he was even feeling this ill to begin with. If he had not been late, then Peter would not have swallowed the shoelace, and everything would have been fine. He grumbled to himself as he thought it over.

When Stephen called him, Tony had gone to put on his shoes and coat before even answering the phone and was already on his way when the vet said he could come collect his pet. In the meantime, Peter was moved from recovery to a cage in the normal ward for the other hybrids patients. The nurses had noticed that the dog-boy was in a foul mood, and did not bother him for long. Letting Tony in, Stephen pointed to the cage where his pet was.

“Hi, puppy love!” Tony chuckled a little tearily and opened the cage door to stroke his pet. “I was so worried- oh, but, you’re all okay now. You’ll be getting so many treats at home, oh, yes you are.”

Peter was facing the wall when Tony came up to the cage he was in, and even despite being upset at his owner he could not resist turning to greet him. However, when Tony held his hand out to stroke him, Peter growled in response. It should have been enough to make Tony stop, but when the man continued reaching for him, the dog-boy lunged forward and bit his Daddy’s hand.

“Ah, fuck! Jesus!” Tony yelped and pulled his hand back, looking up at his pet in shock. He shut the cage door, and then looked at his hand where he had clear teeth marks between his thumb and pointy finger. Peter had bitten him before, but those were nibbles at best, but this was the first proper bite. And Tony was not pleased. “Bad dog.” He said lowly, letting the words sink in before he rose from the floor to stand up again.

It was like a cold bucket of water had been poured over Peter when he heard those words, and he scrambled backwards in his cage as the door shut in front of him. He was trembling again, this time at his own actions of upsetting his Daddy, and he blinked quickly as tears collected at the corners of his eyes.

Tony could see that Peter was upset and filled with instant regret, but this was bad enough for him to not forgive the dog-boy right away. Instead, he raised his hand to let a concerned Stephen have a look at it.

“Has he bitten you before?”

“Just nibbled, so no, never like this.” Tony said, looking at the marks on his hand where Peter had scraped the top layers of his skin. There was no blood.

Peter went back to facing the wall, but his shoulders were shaking with quiet cries. He also pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and over his head, ignoring the noises from the cages and other hybrids around him. He was scared how Tony would react to being bitten for the first time.

“It’s not deep enough to need a rabies vaccine, but you should still get it cleaned.” Stephen said and showed the way to help Tony clean the scrapes. Before leaving, Tony looked over his shoulder at Peter in the cage.

“Could you, uhm- have him muzzled when I bring him home?” Tony asked, and hated the fact that he had to ask such a thing to be done to his precious pet. Stephen nodded understandingly, then led the way out of the room.

Peter did not hear any details of Strange and Tony’s conversation, the blanket over his head muffling his hearing. It seemed like forever before he heard footsteps over in his direction again, and he could not resist peeking out from the blanket and looking over his shoulder to see who it was. When it was Strange, accompanied by a male and female nurse, the boy shrunk back again with a fearful growl.

Opening the cage door swiftly, Stephen pulled back the blanket and threw it over Peter’s head, covering him in darkness and disorienting him for long enough for him and the two nurses to lift him out and hold him down to the floor. They kept the blanket over Peter’s eyes, but pulled it back just long enough to work the muzzle on him and secured it behind his head. This was not exactly the first time they had dealt with aggressive and frightened hybrids. Before Peter knew what had happened, he was put back in his cage with a muzzle on his head.

“Your Daddy will come get you very soon.” Stephen assured to Peter before leaving again.

Peter blinked momentarily, but his gaze was pulled down to the brown muzzle that was strapped around his face. He let out a howl, and instantly began pawing at it to try and pull it off of his face. However, there was no budging the muzzle, even when Peter tried to kick it off by bringing his feet up to his face.

When Peter started howling, some of the other hybrids, both canine and feline, started making noise too in response, whimpering and whining. However, after a while they all settled till Tony returned to the room, accompanied by a nurse this time. The CEO went to the cage where his pet was, and crouched down by him. His hand was now bandaged and he let the dog-boy see it before speaking.

“This is what you get, Peter, because bad dogs get muzzles. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Peter thought he had finished crying, but when Tony appeared again with a bandaged hand it was enough for him to begin tearing up once more. It took him a moment to speak, as he tried his best to steady his breathing.

“I’m s-sorry, Master.” The dog-boy had not referred to Tony as ‘master’ since he had first got him, and his voice quivered as he spoke.

That definitely caught Tony by surprise, and he raised his brow as he looked at his pet. All of a sudden he regretted asking the vet to muzzle his boy in the first place, but then he remembered that he had to stand by his punishment. If he did not, Peter would never listen to him again.

“Thank you for apologising, but the muzzle will stay on till I decide otherwise. Now, come to Daddy.” He said, reaching his hand out once more for his pup. But, this time he did so through the closed cage door.

Peter hesitated moving forward, but eventually came towards the closed cage door and hung his head low for Tony to pet it through the bars. He relaxed as Tony pet that special spot behind his ears, the one that made him almost purr like a cat. He didn’t say much else, he simply made soft, mewling noises as Tony pet him through the bars.

“There’s a good puppy...” Tony mused as he scratched at Peter’s favourite spot. Although he was a bit mad at the dog-boy still, he could not help but feel incredibly relieved that his precious pet was okay. “You feeling okay, pet? The doctor said you might feel a bit sick and woozy for the next few days. He gave me a list of foods that should make you feel better.”

Peter was feeling pretty non-verbal at that point, so he simply whined sadly in response to Tony’s question. He was almost pushing his head up against the bars of the cage with how much he wanted his Daddy’s soothing touch, one that scratched his scalp. It could not move much further than that though, as the muzzle prevented Tony from petting Peter under the chin, where he liked it.

“Oh, I know...” Tony agreed when Peter whined so pitifully. “We’ll go home soon, pet, once the doctor says we can.” He added and continued to scratch Peter through the bars until he got an idea and turned to the nurse. “Could I sit with him somewhere? To cuddle him?”

“Of course.” The nurse replied, and showed Tony to some soft mats on the floor. To get Peter over, Tony opened the cage and reached his hands out in a non-verbal question.

Peter hesitated for a moment, but ultimately crawled out of the cage and into his Daddy’s arms. He curled up into a tight ball on Tony’s lap as the man sat down on the soft mat, nuzzling his forehead against his chest. He whimpered, though, at how the muzzle stopped him from properly pressing his face against Tony.

“Shh, you’re okay, you’re okay. Just rest now, Pete. I got you, pup.” Tony cooed when Peter whimpered and began stroking back the dog-boys ears. They were a bit tense still, and drawn back in a fearful and anxious manner. Or remorseful and sorry. “Daddy’s okay, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” Tony added, just to be sure in case Peter was torturing himself mentally. Although the hybrids could talk, they only did so when it was necessary.

Finally in his Daddy’s arms, Peter relaxed where he lay across his lap. He had been resting all night since swallowing the shoelace with how the drugs had forced him asleep and kept him groggy. But, laying like this on Tony’s lap, Peter felt himself relax properly. It felt just right. This is where he belonged, and that was the last thought he had before succumbing to sleep, but this time it was peaceful.

The next time Peter woke up, he sniffed the air experimentally to try and orientate himself. He smelt home, and so he forced his eyes open to see that he was in his own dog bed next to Tony’s bed. He was back home. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him and he lay back down, but he snapped his eyes open again when he realised that there was nothing on his head. Even in his still drowsy state, the pup remembered what had happened earlier. He had bit his master, and as a consequence he had been muzzled. But, there is no muzzle strapped to his head now.

“Hey, you up, puppy love?”

At the sound of a gentle voice, Peter looked to the door and saw Tony walking in. His Tony. Overwhelmed with delight, the dog-boy stood up, only to stubble over his wobbly feet and fall to the carpeted floor. The man rushed over with a few quick strides and crouched down the floor.

“Hey, hey, easy.” Tony chuckled when he saw that Peter had not hurt himself, then arranged the puppy back into his bed and stroked back his ears. “You need to take it easy, pup.” And Peter obeyed, and closed his eyes again. In the stillness of the bedroom, the dog-boy relaxed fully. With every breath he took, he could smell Tony. The scent was hypnotising to Peter, and he felt himself start to drift off again, but he yipped in surprise at having his shoulder being shaken.

“How about some food? You must be starving.” Peter did not realise just how hungry he was until Tony said that, and almost on command his stomach rumbled. The puppy even squirmed at the feeling and with a coo, Tony picked him up from the dog-bed. “There’s my good puppy. I’ll get you fed, don’t you worry.” The man cooed again with Peter in his arms. “And something that is not shoelaces.”

At the sarcastic jab, Peter looked up at his master and started nipping at his neck and ears.

“Ow, ow!” Tony laughed and tried to dodge Peter’s half hearted attacks. “Hey, hey!” But, Peter kept going for a bit longer to hear more of Tony’s laughter. He could feel how the man’s chest rumbled against his own torso, and it eased away the last of the regret he had in his heart from biting Tony. “Okay, okay. We’re even now. We all good?”

Peter yipped happily. They were more than good, they were happy.

#my fics #richie pup #puppy!peter #starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker #tony stark

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

And My Heart Burned In That Lodge

Michael (Mike) Munroe x Reader (female)

Warnings: Death, Grief, Dealing with loss, Heartbreak, Swearing

Genre: ANGST

Summary: None of them will ever be the same, who knows if they’ll even heal. However, the case is different for Mike. He’s left to be dealing with the guilt, grief and the haunting memory of his friend’s death. He’s angry with himself for all the wrong things he did and all the right things he was too much of a coward to do. Now, his only closure is talking to a gravestone, hoping the wind in the graveyard will pass the message onto the person who the words are meant for.

Requested by Anon. Wish I could tag them, they have such amazing ideas ❤

PS - Sorry this is hella long, I got carried away LOL

I stand aside, watching as my friends place their flowers on her grave. I can hear their cries. For some odd reason I can’t find it in me to feel sympathy or the need to go over there and be with them. I can’t see how that would do anything but make me feel more miserable. Standing here, seeing this scene unfold in front of me, I can’t help but be reminded of how it all started.

Fuck Mondays, man. Fuck them from the bottom of my heart. Even worse, this is the first week of school after winter break so no one wants to be here. Even even worse, this is the first time I’ll be seeing Emily after out breakup. We broke up over text and while I’m aware that’s the worst way to break up with someone, I must admit it was the only way for a lot of arguing and awkwardness to be avoided.

It’s the first time I’m coming to school alone in a while. Without Emily, the car was pleasantly quiet aside from the songs on the radio. Not gonna lie, it felt a bit lonely. Being single for the first time in what feels like forever is both liberating and oddly melancholic. I try to push the self-loathing and the depressing thoughts away as my eyes scan the hallway, looking for the group of familiar faces. My gang. We used to be ten people but we lost two girls during our winter getaway at the Washington lodge. Josh’s sisters, Hannah and Beth, went missing and are presumably dead, all cause of a stupid prank Jess, Emily and I concocted, convincing Matt and Ash to go along with it. In retrospect, I don’t know what we were thinking.

‘Seriously, Mike? From one depressing thought to another? Is your brain lacking serotonin today more than usual or what?‘ I mentally scold myself just as I spot two familiar faces - Sam and Ashley.

It doesn’t take long for me to notice the rest of the gang - Matt, Jess and Chris - all standing near by, surrounding a girl I have never seen before. She sticks out immediately with her long H/C hair and shiny E/C eyes. Jess has her arm linked with the girl, a gesture really out of place for Jess. I mean, her and Emily are pretty close and I’ve never even seen them hug.

“Hey, man. How are you?“ Matt notices me first, lifting his head and smiling at me. His greeting leads the others to look in my direction as well, including the girl. I catch Jess lean down in and whisper something to her. I can’t hear what she’s saying but it clearly aggravates her. I have never received a dirtier look from a girl in my entire life. I usually have the opposite effect on women but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“Mike...” Jess steps away from the girl and towards me, “this is my best friend, Y/N. She just got transferred here.” She turns her attention back to the girl, “Y/N, this is Mike.”

Y/N looks unamused as she outstretches her arm in my direction. “Nice to meet you” is what she says, but her expression clearly tells me she would like to see as little of me as possible. At least she’s polite, right?

“Likewise.” The handshake is brief and, despite her obvious distaste for me, she still gives me a firm handshake.

“Wait, you were transferred? I thought Jess said you came here cause you moved.” Sam furrows her brows in confusion.

“Well, it’s really a chicken and the egg type of situation.” Y/N laughs, rubbing the back of her neck almost nervously, “We moved because I had to transfer.” Yikes.“ Ashley comments, “Not to pry or anything, but why did you have to be transferred?“

Y/N looks me dead in the eyes, as if she’s sending me a message that I better not overlook, or so help me God I’ll be dead. ”Noses randomly broke when I was around.”

It hurts so much to look back on those times and not pick up on what I was feeling. I foolishly decided that if I can’t give the feelings a name or find them a purpose I should turn a blind eye. I wasn’t that ignorant, I could tell she was the cause, but I could never admit it.

And then there’s the situation with Jess...

“You hurt her, and I’ll kill you.“

I found Y/N by the bleachers and let me tell you, she’s quite the paradox. She’s a straight A, no nonsense, intelligent beyond her years girl. With all these characteristics, you’d think she’d know better than to smoke cigarettes. Wrong! She’s a smoker. Jess can never not complain about the smell of cigarette smoke, it’s a miracle these two get along.

To my ‘hi’ she responded with what looked to be an eyeroll and an annoyed release of smoke through her nostrils. Even though I know I’m not welcome to be in her proximity, I still decide to sit down a little ways away from her, for personal space and all that. Definitely not cause I’m slightly afraid of her. No way.

We just sit in silence until she hits me with the aforementioned threat. I am caught off guard. All I can do is stare straight ahead of me like a deer in headlights. After maybe thirty seconds of absolute confusion I manage to turn my head to look at her. “What are you talking about?” The question is supposed to sound harsh but compared to the way she spit out that death threat it sounded more like a whimper.

“You are such an ignorant asshole.“ She shakes her head, throwing her cigarette on the bench below her. She stomps on it and walks away. I can’t help but stare at her until she’s out of sight. I feel like I’m watching something non-human. A phenomenon you can experience once in a lifetime - if you’re lucky.

She’s the complete opposite of Jess: grounded, smart, rational. The only time I’ve seen her be so unpleasant is around me. I catch her interactions with the rest of the gang. From afar, she seems like the nicest, friendliest girl. And then she catches a glimpse of me and her mood changes. I don’t know what’s her problem with me but I know it most certainly isn’t something I’ve done to her. She’s been like that since the first moment we were introduced, so either Jess has talked a lot of shit about me or she just hates people named Michael. I may never know.

I had no idea what she meant at the time and only found out three weeks ago. Speaking of three weeks ago, the group once again headed for the Blackwood Pines, trying to hide their uneasiness with make excitement. I was pretty hyped when I heard we were going because that also meant our friend Josh was finally starting to get better. He hadn’t been in a good mindset since his sisters went missing and we were all really worried for him but weren’t allowed to show it because he always insisted he was fine.

He wasn’t. He was as messed up as ever and served as only the prologue to the nightmare of a night we had to live through.

But before all that could happen, the night started off well. Better than expected. The eeriness of the mountain combined with the bad memories we had of the place we still there, we could all feel the tension, but we did a good job masking it with jokes and whatnot. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really looking forward to go and not only because of what happened the year prior.

“Wait, wait, wait. Y/N’s coming too?“ I ask, looking at Josh with wide eyes.

The guy is clearly confused by my overdramatic reaction to him counting down the names of the ones who had already RSVPd ‘Yes’. “Is that a problem or something?”

I sigh, hiding my face in my hands. It’s embarrassing to admit, really. “She doesn’t like me, and that puts it mildly. She hates me.”

He looks even more baffled than before, “Why? What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing, for fuck’s sake. Not a single thing. I haven’t even had a proper interaction with her.“ Talking about this matter exhausts me, mostly cause I can’t even express half the things I’m feeling.

There’s been a time or two I’ve caught her looking at me but her eyes weren’t filled with that distrust I’m used to. She looks away quickly when we make eye contact, as if she can’t put the mean mask on in time and she has to look away to do a system reset. I sometimes catch myself looking at her without realizing. I try to tell myself I do it for the purpose of solving her.

‘Who are you kidding, Munroe?‘

* * *

And here I am, climbing up the mountain to the Washington lodge. I’ve made it a goal to use this getaway to mend things with Y/N. It’s the only way for me to get back to normal. To get my mind back since she’s recently been living in my head rent-free. I’m bullshitting, not just recently. She’s taken over my brain since day one. I can’t place what’s going on with me, I can’t find a term to label it with and I most definitely can’t find a way to stop it. So, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I can’t stop it on my own, she’ll have to do it for me.

Another thing - I’ve never felt nervous or self-conscious around a girl all my life. Never. My friends joke that I’m a ladies’ man and I’d say that’s pretty true. So I have a tough time understanding how I turn into an awkward turtle that’s missing confidence when she’s around.

Once we all get settled in and there’s a fire going, giving the lodge a cozy atmosphere, it’s every man for themselves. Everyone picks a activity they want to occupy themselves with and the living room of the lodge empties out, leaving me there alone.

I scroll stare at the screen of my now useless phone. The thing has no reception and no way of keeping me busy, leaving my attention to wander to the voices that are getting more and more distant as my friends walk out of the room.

I can’t help but overhear Jess say to Y/N, “You haven’t even set your bag down yet and you’re going for a smoke? Jeez, Y/N.”

“You say as though you don’t know me.“ Y/N laughs, the sound of a door opening following after her voice.

It’s such a nice sound, her laugh. I’ve never heard it before. I’ve seen her smile and seen her chuckle at someone’s joke, but it was never actually a laugh. Seems she keeps those for special occasions.

If she’s in the type of mood to laugh, she’s in the type of mood to be civil with me. Before I can talk myself out of the on-spot decision, I mentally slap myself and get off the couch, walking to the door to the side deck.

“You’ve got this, she’s just a person”

“Who’s just a person?“ her voice cuts through the silence of the outdoors.

‘SHIT I SAID THAT OUT LOUD‘

I decide to carry this all the way, no shortcuts. No backing out. Somehow, now that she’s standing in front of me - a cigarette between her fingers, her shoulders tense from of the cold - I find it easier to get the words out. She’s just as human as everyone else. The cold causes her to shrivel up. She’s addicted to tobacco. She’s not some riddle I need to solve, just a person I need to talk to in order to understand.

“You.“ I reply, “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?“

She shakes her head, her shoulders trembling a bit, “It builds the immune system.”

“No, it makes you suffer.“ I shrug my jacket off, cautiously approaching her and wrapping it around her.

Surprisingly, she accepts it with a nod and a murmured ‘thanks’, holding onto it with the hand that’s not holding her cigarette. “Why were you reminding yourself that I’m just a person? Do I not look like one?” She scoffs, facing away from me to look at the snowy hills ahead.

“No, no, not that. You just make me nervous that’s all.“

She whirls around, giving me this look as though she has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Really? Why’s that?“ she puts out her cigarette on the wooden railing, focusing all her attention on me.

My hand instinctively goes up to the back of my neck, feeling my face start to heat up. “Well, you’re not really fond of me. And I don’t know why, and....” I trail off, sighing in self-disappointment, “And I wanna know why.”

Her expression turns the complete opposite, a smile spreading across her face. “It’s not about something you have done. It’s about what you might’ve done.”

Despite feeling slightly relieved, I am no less confused than I was a minute ago. “And what is that?”

“Break my best friend’s heart.“ She looks a lot more serious now, “You really had no idea she was head over heels for you just a month ago. You were so oblivious and she was so whipped...“ frustration radiates off of her, “I just didn’t want her to get hurt.“ She closes her eyes, stabilizing herself before finishing her statement, “I didn’t want to hurt her.“

“Wait, what?“

The hurt that paints itself on her face is contagious. I feel it too and I don’t even know what’s causing it. “She always told me about you. Mike this and Mike that. She made you sound like the best guy in the world. And...I really wanted to be let down when I met you, but you were nothing but nice to me and to the other people in the group. But you were also such a jerk from time to time. You are just too...Fucking forget it.”

In a blink of an eye she puts my jacket over the railing and runs inside the lodge.

“Y/N, wait!“

Needless to say, running after her was the best decision I’ve made. I didn’t get her to admit to anything, but at least we lied down the armor and agreed to give each other some time to get to know one another. Drop aside the assumptions and give a this acquaintanceship the chance to become a friendship.

Sadly, all good things come to an end way sooner than we want. The rest of that dreadful night I witnessed her transform. When everyone was freaking out, she held them and comforted them. I saw the fear in her eyes but she never let it shine through in her actions. She was the one still holding it together even after she saw that disgusting creature. Her and I were the ones to turn that sanatorium upside down. We were with Josh in the mines. We were the ones to see the Wendigo first. We were by each other’s side the entire time. We had each other’s backs.

I’ve never felt such a connection with someone. I was experiencing the most intimate understanding with a person in the worst moment of my life. It was bittersweet. The poison mixed with the cure.

Even when she knew her death was approaching, her only reaction was a single tear. A single crystal drop running down her cheek.

We can make a break. We can run right out of this hell hole and turn it to ash, all we need is for this fucking to focus its attention elsewhere. Thankfully Chris, Ash and Emily have made it out already and they’re safe. However, Sam, Y/N and I are trapped. The silent looks we exchange are laced with fear and panic. We have to calculate our next moves down to a millisecond and we don’t even know what those next moves should be.

Suddenly, a sharp pain starts spreading from my hand shoulder. My adrenaline is no longer doing a good job blocking out the pain of the fingers I had to sever. I slip up, letting out a hiss. The pain is just that unbearable.

That thing turn at the speed of light, letting out a screech and heading in my direction. My whole body is tense I couldn’t move if I wanted to but my arm is in such a horribly painful position, I think I’ll faint if I don’t readjust it.

“HEY!“ The voice comes from opposite me and my heart drops.

Sam’s next to me. It’s not her. It’s Y/N.

The Wendigo loses interest in me as soon as it hears her yell turning and heading straight for her. It all starts sinking in. Now that it’s facing away, Sam and I can make it out. But she can’t. It’s over for her. There’s no way she’s leaving this lodge.

I catch her eyes from across the room. Her posture says a fighter, but her eyes scream ‘petrified’. She knows it too. She knows it’s game over. A single tear rolls down her cheek, shattering my heart.

That’s the last vulnerable moment, however. She turns her head, deciding to go out without showing a glint of fear to that piece of shit. I don’t have to look at Sam or tell her what to do. We’re both aware that we’re about to make it out, losing Y/N in the process.

It happens in a split second. Y/N spits at the Wendigo and then next thing I see is her laying on the ground in a pool of blood.

The dash out of the lodge is a blur. The last thing I remember is sitting outside of the burning building, staring at the flames. The lodge wasn’t the only thing burning. Years of memories; history; wendigos; and my heart burnt in that lodge.

I see the group leave the graveyard. I struggle to move forward, my limbs heavy. I feel gravity is a lot stronger all of a sudden.

I didn’t go to the final goodbye. I knew it wasn’t her. There was nothing left of her to bury. Sam told me they buried things that reminded people of her and objects she cherished.

Well it’s time I give my goodbye.

I shrug my jacket off - the same jacket from that night - and put it around the gravestone like I put it over her shoulders. There’s a box of the cigarettes she smoked in the inner pocket.

“I hope you felt what I felt, Y/N. I hope I didn’t have to say it for you to notice it. I wish I knew...cause now it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.” I can’t stop the tears, I’m too weak and I’ve been holding them back for far too long. “I’ve never believed in an afterlife. But I really hope there is one, just so we can meet again.” I scoff, shaking my head, “Who am I kidding, I’m probably going to hell.”

I believe that’s where I deserve to go, anyway. I’m the reason she died. And I will never let myself live that down. I will never forgive myself. A flame like no other burnt out so mine could keep burning. I will make sure it haunts me till the day I leave this world behind.

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gongju-juice · 4 years

Text

3. Once Upon a Southern Night

Something Old, Something New

Warnings: Some racial tension. . .also might be some language but I can’t remember tbh

The thing about change is that it’s just that—change. You can change something, twist it, mold it, or turn it into whatever you wish for it to look like, but you cannot ever get rid of its original identity.

Living in Forks was no short of that. Life was a blessing, and your days were filled with laughter and excitement. Beginning your senior year—Jasper had graduated—but the two of you were dating and closer than you’d ever been. He took you on dates to see the stars and bought you flowers and little trinkets to brighten your day. You read books in his lap and went on double dates with Amelia and her boyfriend, Stuart.

You knew something was strange about your family—so much so that your mother’s weirdness no longer seemed so personalized. Maybe it was the fact they never ate around you, or maybe it’s the account of their golden eyes. And like your mother (and everyone else, frankly), your boyfriend was so inhumanly cold, like a Roman statue left in an icy museum.

But what did you look like asking such crazy questions? After all, what else could it be but coincidence? As for your mom and Carlisle, they were siblings—it was normal for them to share the same traits. But as for the others—Rosalie and Jasper were twins—and although they were different personality wise, they both had the same pale skin and bronze colored eyes. Maybe the old saying is true: living together with someone really does make you look alike.

One day while your family all hung out at the Cullen house, you received a letter in the mail. It was a bright, shimmering white envelope with fancy lace trimming. You opened it carefully—sure not to cut yourself so as to not to trigger Jasper’s weird paranoia around blood.

“Oh my god!” you shouted, running into the living room. You looked at your mom. “Ivy and Dale are getting hitched!”

“Wow, Ivy?” she said. “I remember the two of you growing up like it was yesterday. When’s the date?”

“March 5. It’s going to take place on Dale’s parents’ farm. The reception’s going to be in the big barn house!”

You whirled in excitement, only to dizzy yourself into Jasper’s arms when you realized you’d fallen. He brushed a stray curl from your face.

“A wedding?” he said. “I thought Ivy was only seventeen.”

“You can get married in Alabama at sixteen with parental consent. I’m sure the Lauderdales were thrilled to hear of the good news. Dale has been hanging ‘round since we were six.”

You popped back onto the floor. “I’ve gotta find a dress and everything! Oh wait—I should call and see if we’re doing matching dresses or if we’re all gonna be wearing different ones.”

You picked up your phone and raced to the kitchen where you could find some privacy and feel free to freak out some more. She picked up on the third ring.

“Lucille!” you cried, “I can’t believe it’s finally happening! Please send me a picture of the ring ASAP, okay?”

She giggled. “It’s not a big deal, Y/N. We’ve been engaged since we were twelve. It’s just that now we’ve got that ice and permission to prove it.”

The phone buzzed and you looked at the image of the triple diamond ring which had a band of diamonds all around. You recognized that ring. It was Dale’s grandmother’s sacred family heirloom, the one that’s been locked up tight in their security safe. He only let you and her see it once when you were both thirteen and his parents were out in the field.

“I’m so excited for the bachelorette party!” you gushed. “We’re going to have so much fun! We should go to Pensacola and go to one of them spa places and then we can—”

“Y/N,” she said quietly, cutting you off entirely. “You’re not on the bridesmaids list.”

You were quiet, your flailing arms caught in mid air. “I’m not. . .but you said—”

“I’m sorry, girl, but Mama already chose who's going to be in my wedding. There’s

Charlotte, Mary, Clarabelle, and Lydia. . .the ones I grew up with.”

“But. . .what about me? Didn’t. . .didn’t we grow up together?”

“Yeah, but. . .it’s just not the same, you know? Those people are family. You can still come to the wedding, of course. That’s why I sent the invitation.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel hurt. Here was your best friend telling you that you couldn’t be in the wedding. Mrs. Lauderdale. . .you thought she really liked you. Was it because you moved up north?”

“Oh, alright then. I was just—just calling to confirm the date. March 5, right?”

“Yeah, March 5.”

You hung up the phone and sighed at the counter, your head hung down. Just then, Jasper came walking in. He came up behind you and held you in place, his head resting on your shoulder. Suddenly, your mood improved instantly. But that was the thing about Jasper—he was always brightening your day when you felt down. It was part of the reason you adored him.

“You okay?” he whispered. “You know you don’t got to go to that wedding?”

You shook your head. “Of course I do. It’s my best friend’s wedding. How could I miss her big day? Besides. . .how did you even know I was sad?”

He stiffened. “I. . .uh. . .heard the conversation in the hallway.”

“Oh, well I guess that makes sense.”

He held you for a while against the hard granite.

“Jasper?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Will you be my date to the wedding?”

“Absolutely.”

Rosalie was the one officially in charge in helping you pick your dress. Alice had a vengeful streak and wanted you to wear a big, white gown that would take all the attention away from Ivy.

“It’s wayyyy too hot in the south for that,” you pleaded, “and I ain’t trying to cause no trouble! It’s her Mama who did it, not Ivy.”

“She should’ve overridden that stupid decision then,” Alice continued, braiding your hair. It was still funny to know that the tiny pixie girl knew how to do a full-set of box braids. “If it was my wedding—”

“But it isn’t your wedding,” Rosalie insisted. “And Ivy isn’t your friend. Now like I was saying, Y/N, this little yellow sundress would look so cute with your skin tone. . .”

They even hooked up Jasper. They got him a nice cornflower blue dress shirt and a cream colored suit. Emmett even put on a whole show of picking his hairstyle, and even though they went through all that progress and hard work, you kindly reminded them that a heat wave was coming the weekend of the wedding and that it was best just to leave his curls the way they were. Jasper did not take kindly to his brother after that.

“Why don’t you come with us?” you asked your mom as she helped you pack the last of your luggage. “It’s gonna be so lonely with just me and Jasper. And besides, I’m sure everybody wants to see you!”

“No, no, I can’t. I’m scheduled for a surgery the day of the wedding. I can’t cancel it either. It’s a cancerous tumor that needs to be removed.”

You sighed, sitting up on your bed. “I can’t believe it’s here. She’s getting married, mom. We’re all going to be adults and pretty soon, if things go to according to plan, me and—” You cut yourself off as the overwhelming thought engulfed you.

“That’s right. You and Jasper will have your own wedding someday. . .speaking of which. . .we need to talk about the future.”

“The future?”

“Yes,” she sat on your bed. “There are some things you need to know before you set your eyes on your own big day. We’ll talk about that all soon, I promise. But as for now, go and enjoy yourself with Jasper. You’ll have him all to yourself. . .”

“Mom!” you shouted. “Jasper—he’s too sweet for that. He’s a real gentleman! It hasn’t even been that long ago since we had our first kiss, and he was scared to even do that!”

She raised her brows. “Hmmm, maybe that’s what he wanted you to think. But guys are never shy when it comes to that subject.”

The next day, your family wished you off at the airport. Jasper bought you first class tickets—a feat you deemed both extravagant and unnecessary—and you slept on his shoulder for most of the way.

Immediately, touching down in your home state, everything felt so different. It was humid and hot; the type of sticky that makes your hair stick to the back of your neck, and people were so much more cordial then they were back at Forks. Some gave Jasper strange looks as he wound his fingers with yours, but again, nobody was unpleasant.

You would be staying at a hotel about thirty miles out from the country. There were, thankfully, two queen sized beds parallel to one another in the tiny room. But Jasper insisted sleeping in the living room part where a half wall separated the two of you.

On the big day, your boyfriend pulled out an authentic cowboy hat (the likes you’d never seen before), and the two of you headed down Ivy’s long dirt road.

Fields of cotton and peas lined either side of the road, and for long stretches, there were no houses except the occasional large country home with animals and plots of cultivated land. The ditches teemed with life: jumping frogs, tadpoles, crawfish, and lillies.

“Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been in the country,” he said. “This place isn’t much different from home.”

“Home? In Forks?”

“Rose and I—before we were adopted—used to live in Texas.”

“Really? That explains your accent! I just thought you watched too many western flicks. Oh, but why doesn’t Rosalie have one?”

“Well, she just hides it, I guess.”

You arrived at the house. There was a trail of cars already parked in the grassy yard, and people made their way in their finest Sunday’s best to the row of chairs arranged in front of the big oak tree where the minister stood.

“Y/N!” one of your old childhood friends exclaimed when she saw you. She was dressed in a teal dress, and at her side was some unknown boy you hadn’t met. “It’s so good to see you!” She looked at your boyfriend. “And who’s this?”

“Jasper Hale, ma’am, I’m her date for the evening,” he answered, tipping his hat. The row of women waiting to greet you gushed at his manners, and dare you say, they checked him out so openly. You hugged his bicep tighter.

“Just for the evening or indefinitely?” she cooed.

“Indefinitely.”

You sat down in one of the middle rows, and watched in awe as the wedding processional came down the aisle. Ivy was dressed in a glittery dress and carried the largest bouquet of white roses you’d ever seen. Dale had tears in his eyes as he looked up at his bride. They were so perfect, so in love, it made your insides melt.

After the beautiful ceremony, the party moved the barn. The rafters were draped in lights and white ribbons and flower petals covered the ground. You chose a table nearest to one of the wooden walls and curled into Jasper’s side.

“You look so gorgeous,” he said, tucking a dandelion behind your ear. “You out-shined the bride, and you didn’t even have to wear that ridiculous dress Alice was trying to shove you in.”

“All of my girlfriends keep whispering about you. You’re the real star tonight. The best looking man in both Washington and Alabama.”

Just then, Mrs. Lauderdale approached your table.

“Y/N, how are you honey?” she asked as you hugged her plump form. As the mother of the bride, she was dressed in a simple white dress and rocked a crown of flowers in her hair.

“I’m wonderful. Have you met my boyfriend?” You allowed her to inspect Jasper as he offered a hand.

“My, my. What a fine young man,” she cried. “Who knew you could get such a catch?”

She pulled you off to the side, and although Jasper tried to follow, you insisted he stay behind.

“I hope you aren’t upset about the whole bridesmaid situation,” she said, patting your shoulder. “We wanted a small processional anyway—makes it so we can get to the food faster.”

You shook your head. “‘Course not. It was such a beautiful ceremony. And Ivy—she’s stunning,” you said as you admired her twirling form with her new husband.

“Well anyway, John and the guys want to see you. John?”

Mr. Lauderdale greeted you with a nod. “How’s it going?”

“All good here,” you answered enthusiastically. In all honesty, John and his friends intimidated you with their skeptical expressions and hawk-like eyes. It was obvious the men of the family didn’t like you as much as the girls did—and that was fine. You were here for Ivy, not them.

“You got yourself a white boy?” Vernon, Ivy’s brother, asked. “A Yankee?”

“Actually, Jasper’s a Texan. And yes, he’s white. But it isn’t weird or anything.”

Like he was in on the conversation, he smoothly slid in beside you, his cold hand wrapping around your waist.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said as he addressed the men. “I’m a Houston native, by the way. I was raised on a farm myself—had a chocolate brown mare named Buttercup and a field full of bulls.”

“Ah, really? That makes me even more surprised to see you here.”

“Pardon me?”

Vernon smirked. “Y’all go and enjoy yourselves.”

Jasper pulled you away from the barn with a little more determination than you thought was needed. He hadn’t looked nor spoken until the two of you were completely alone by the fence where the ponies ran.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly. “You seem upset.”

“It’s nothing. I didn’t like the way those boys were talking. Had to get outside and clear my mind.” He pulled you closer to his body, and his cool skin felt good in the heat of the night.

“Holding you like this makes me get so sentimental,” he admitted. “It makes me want to take you to the nearest courtyard and get official. It makes me want to buy you a hundred acres and a big, nice house by a river. It makes me want to give you a bunch of kids to keep us company, so we can grow old together and live happily ever after.”

“I like when you get sentimental,” you breathed.

“But,” he stopped, “that last part might not be able to happen. There’s something you should know about me—about our family before you decide to give your heart away.”

“What do you mean? What could possibly be so earth-shattering that it’d make me stop loving you?”

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, staring deeply into your eyes. His brows were creased, forehead wrinkled in thought.

“Y/N, I wanted to wait to tell you, but I can’t stand lies. Most importantly, I don’t like to lie to you.”

“Just say it, baby.”

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness.

It was a tall man, about the same height and build as Jasper, with bright crimson eyes and long dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He stared at you intensely before casting his burning gaze to Jasper.

“It’s been a long time, old friend,” he said darkly before inhaling deeply. “And it’s been even longer, Camille.”

And here the real story begins. Also I like cowboy Jasper playing with ponies maybe I’ll do a drabble on that.

Part One Part Two Part Four

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagines #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #esme cullen #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #alice cullen #cowboy jasper 'cause i said so #i asked my mama if i could be a horse rider and she said no

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astxlphe · 4 years

Text

Day 6 : Date Night // Daaku

Dazai takes Akutagawa out to the museum.

@bsd-rarepair-valentines-week

(Me, shoving my headcanons in your face: Aku is an art lover and I’ll die on that hill)

(Also the few art facts are probably a bit skewed, so don’t hesitate to correct me.)

“You’re here early."

It was just midnight, and Akutagawa sat on the steps in front of the museum, letting his coat cloak him in the dark. Of course, it didn’t hide him from Dazai. He was expecting him.

“You didn’t wait too long, did you?”

“No.” He had arrived almost a hour in advance. He stood, and Dazai approached, a spring in his steps.

“Good!”

“What are we doing here?”

A mischievous smile. “Can’t you guess?”

Akutagawa frowned, thinking. He still didn’t know why Dazai had called him here, in the middle of the night. He had at first assumed it was for a mission, but Nakajima Atsushi shone in his absence, so it couldn’t be what Dazai intended to happen.

He didn’t know what else the man could possibly want with him.

His silence seemed to be enough of an answer, because Dazai grinned and turned towards the museum behind them. “Simply put, Akutagawa-kun,” he declared, “I’m taking you to the museum.”

Akutagawa stilled. “Excuse me?”

“Why else would I ask you to meet me here?”

“You want to…” He paused, bewildered. “…to take me to the museum?” Dazai hummed approvingly. “Why?”

“Why not? You like museums, don’t you?”

He did, yes. But he had never told Dazai that, and he doubted the man ever noticed. “How do you know?”

“I asked around.” He motioned to the museum with his hand, and went on, stopping Akutagawa from commenting on the vague answer. “Are you coming?”

“Dazai-san, it’s midnight. Its closed.”

“I know!” He pushed the front door, and it opened with barely a sound. “That’s what makes it fun, isn’t it?”

Narrowing his eyes, Akutagawa followed. “I didn’t think detectives were allowed breaking and entering.”

“Is it really breaking and entering if the door isn’t locked?” The door closed behind them, and they were left in the dark.

Akutagawa had been to the Yokohama Museum of Arts before. He’s walked through those corridors many times in the past few years, ever since Kouyou brought Gin and him here for the very first time when he was 14.

But he’d never been inside at night.

Their footsteps echoed in the lobby, and they passed the front desk without anyone stopping them. The museum was empty, save from the two of them.

And a little cold, but he could live with that.

“What do you want to start with?”

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, even with Dazai here. “Western collection,” he declared, finding his way to the right wing with ease.

It was as dark as the entrance, but soft lights shone from behind the paintings, meaning they could still see them.

“I don’t know anything about art,” Dazai went on, stopping right beside him to look at the first painting. His voice made him sound like he was preparing something. “What’s this one?”

“Salvador Dalí,” Akutagawa answered curtly. Dazai hmm-ed again. “What?”

“Well? What about this Doli man?”

“Dalí.” He scoffed. “Spanish painter, from the surrealist movement. This one is an untitled work dating 1942, a mural design, for a woman called Helena Rubinstein. There are two others like this one, on exhibit here as well.” He gestured to two other artworks. “Not his most famous works, however. The Persistence of Memory, for example, is in New York, while The Great Masturbator—” He pointedly ignore Dazai’s snort. “— is in Spain.”

When Dazai nodded, they moved on to the next work. They went through the Western collection to the Japanese artists, Akutagawa telling him a few facts about each artwork stopped in front of.

Dazai almost didn’t speak, only occasionally prompting Akutagawa to go on — and Akutagawa found that he didn’t mind.

He liked talking about art, especially when someone was listening. And Dazai still seemed actually interested.

It was weird.

“This one,” he went on, showing a three parts artwork, “is Fujiwara Yasumasa Playing the Flute in the Moonlight, by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi. Dates back 1883. A depiction of—” He trailed off. He had an easier time to talk about this with Dazai around, now that he’d been doing it for over an hour, but Dazai staring at him was throwing him off. Everything Dazai did tonight was throwing him off. “It’s—” He paused. “Dazai-san, may I ask a question?”

“Sure!” He leaned against him, one of his hands resting on his back. Akutagawa scooted away a bit. “Unless it’s one I have already answered.”

“Why are you making me speak?” When Dazai looked at him blankly, he elaborated. “You have never liked me speaking too much before, but now you want me to keep talking.”

“Oh, you noticed? You are more observant than you—” Akutagawa glared at him. “Fine, fine, I’m caught.”

“So?”

He shrugged, turning back to look at the painting, hands on his hips. “I figured you would be more pleasant to be around if you talked about something you liked.”

Akutagawa’s stomach dropped, twisting in embarrassment.

This man still had enough power over him to easily make him feel like a child.

“Nothing forces you to spend time with me if you would rather not to.” He kept his face carefully void of emotion, trying not to let his hurt and annoyance show.

“What?” Dazai swung back on his heals to face him again. His mouth made a silent “oooh”, before he shook his head and laughed. “This wasn’t supposed to sound like that. I just wanted that grumpy face of yours to soften up a little.” He pouted. “But if you insist on thinking there is a secret agenda behind our date night—”

“Date?” When had all this become a date? Hadn’t Dazai thought to inform him before making it a date?

“What else did you think it was?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped, feeling the frustration build up. “I never know what to expect from you or—” he took in a deep breath. “Or what you have to gain from me talking your ears off about art.”

“Do I need to have something to gain from spending time with you? Why can’t I just like hanging out with you?”

He had just said he was unpleasant to be around — not that Akutagawa didn’t know he wasn’t exactly the best company to keep. Still, his scowl deepened — he didn’t get it. He didn’t think he would ever understand Dazai.

Before he could answer out loud, light flooded in the area. “Hey! What are you doing here?!”

“Security!” Dazai grabbed his hand and pulled him into a run.

“I thought you took care of it!”

“I never said anything about that!”

“The door was open! You don’t take care of the security before breaking into a building?”

“I forgot!”

“You—”

“Come back here, you two!”

Dazai dragged him into another corridor, and they took a few more turns, bringing them back the museum lobby. They jumped over the reception counter and Dazai shoved the both of them under the desk.

They held their breath as the security guard ran past them. He said something into his communicator, but did not see them, leaving the both of them uncaught.

“Well, that was close.”

Akutagawa nodded. He could feel Dazai's breath near him, and got a noseful of the perfume he was wearing — a nice perfume, he noted.

“To answer your question,” Dazai whispered, close to his ear, “I do, actually, have a secret agenda.” He raised his hand, thumb brushing against his lips. “What would you say if I told you it involved kissing you senseless and seducing you out of the mafia?”

Akutagawa had half a mind to bite him.

“I would say you have lost your mind.”

There was no need to seduce him out of anything. He was a lost cause, he always knew it, and never had any concerns in that regard. He was the Mafia’s attack dog, through and through.

And yet here he was, stuck in a small space with a traitor, with whom he was on a museum date.

He tried to stand up, but Dazai’s hand grabbed the back of his neck and tugged him down again.

“And you’d probably be right.” He dragged him further down, lips catching his, and Akutagawa’s breath caught in his throat.

It was messy and awkward, with Dazai’s teeth scraping at his, their noses bumping, their hiding place too small for it to be comfortable.

And the only thing Akutagawa could do — wanted to do — was to welcome it and get drunk on the warmth Dazai Osamu, of all people, was giving him.

When he let go, Dazai grinned. “You’d be right,” he said again, “but that was part of my plan for tonight, so I think I have a decent chance at the seducing idea.”

Akutagawa refused to answer. Maybe because if he talked, he would just say he would like to see him try, and Dazai would see it as a challenge more than an attempt to deter him.

Maybe Akutagawa himself would mean it as an encouragement.

Pulling himself over the counter, he made sure no guard was around. “The way is clear.”

They sneaked out the same way they sneaked in, by the front door. It was still unlocked, so they simply closed it behind them. As they left, they started hearing sirens, and they broke into another run. If the museum security had called the police, they would rather not be too close when they arrived.

It was only when they were far away from the museum that they came to a halt.

Once they were sure they hadn’t been chased, they started walking again, looking for a more crowded area. Dazai stretched his arms above his head. “That was fun! Let’s do it again, some time!” He tapped his chin with his finger. “What about the Cultural History Museum?”

Akutagawa knew this one very well. He had gone countless of time and could probably give someone the whole guided visit from memory alone.

“Same day, same time, next week?” Dazai offered.

He gave Dazai a jerky nod.

“That’s what I thought.” Dazai sent him a thin, knowing smile. “Let’s see how crazy I really am, uh?”

"I’ll go home now.”

“You do you.” He waved as Akutagawa turned back to leave and called out: “See you next week!”

#bsd #bsdrarepairvday #dazaku #daaku #dazai osamu #akutagawa ryuunosuke #i skipped day 5 and 7 for now bc they're not ready

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pi-cat000 · 5 years

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 30)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3, Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29

Part 31: here

LEWIS POV

Vivi is quiet after Lewis finishes his quick recount. Instead of offering him a reprieve to gather his thoughts, the silence is oppressive. Lewis is beginning to understand why Vivi dislikes it so much. He tries to shake the image of Lance Kingsman, deathly pail, unnervingly still, alone in that quiet hospital room but it is stuck at the front of his mind. The low thrum of hospital patrons does little to reduce the discomfort, which consumes the space between him and Vivi. His attention flickers to her intense frown. By now, she should have a least offered an opinion or hypothesis on their current predicament. She hasn’t, keeping her thoughts to herself instead of saying them aloud like she usually did. Why isn’t she talking? Was it him?

Lewis is a little embarrassed about overreacting so spectacularly to a few missed calls but, honestly, that had probably been the worst moment for Vivi to not answer her phone. Vivi always answered her phone. For a second, he had thought she’d run off to join Arthur in self-imposed exile. What if she’d met up with Arthur and they’d both decided to avoid him together? Now he is just angry with himself for not trusting her -Vivi would never do that – and worried for Lance and increasingly worried for Arthur. “What do you think we should do?” He has to ask because he needs her to say something. Vivi fidgets, obviously searching around for an answer to give him. Why is he so useless in these situations? “Wait for news on Lance,” Vivi nods in the direction of the reception desk where Lewis had asked, only minutes prior, for directions to Lance’s recovery room. “Who knows, maybe Arthur will show up later…” She trails off, unconvinced by her own statement. Across the hall, one of the nurses operating the desk hangs up a phone, motioning to a co-worker, pointing in their direction. The second man, a doctor going by the white coat, twists to follow the gesture, staring at them from across the foyer. Lewis straightens and Vivi perks up, expression clearing into determination when the man strolls towards them. “Are you the one who pulled the alert for Lance Kingsman?” The grouchy middle-aged man asks, coming to a stop, looking them over, settling his attention on Lewis. “Yeah. Is Lance alright? What happened? I…haven’t heard anything, not since he went into surgery.” A negative head motion, “I don’t know much about Mr Kingsman’s condition unfortunately, but I’ve been asked…” “Was it complications with the original injury or did something else happen? Lance was admitted for stab wounds…are those prone to post-surgical complications?” Vivi jumps in to question. “I don’t know. All I’ve been told is to ask whether you…the two of you…” The doctor amends noting the way he and Vivi are pressed together, “would be willing to wait in one the private offices. The police would like to ask you a few questions, and the hospital would rather that not happen in the middle of the main foyer.” “Police?” Lewis repeats, confused. Vivi takes the development in stride continuing her line of questioning, “Does the hospital keep records of people who visit patients? Like, do people need to sign a register or something?” “No. Most of the recovery wards are generally open during visiting hours.” “That doesn’t sound very secure,” Vivi objects outright, “People have to ask at the reception to find out which room patients are in though?” “Most visitors have to stop by the front desk,” The man shrugs, giving Vivi a vaguely irritated expression, “Are you two going to wait or not? Technically, you don’t have to, but it was strongly advised that you do.” Vivi opens her mouth, but Lewis stands, interrupting her. Obviously, this guy doesn’t know much, and any further questions would just serve to irritate him and hurt their chances at gathering information further down the road. He is not sure what Vivi’s goal is exactly, but she obviously has one. The thought gives him confidence. “We’ll wait and talk to the police. Where do we enquire after patients in the meantime? We’re really worried about our friend.” “Uh,” The man blinks up at him, taken off guard his height, “Hospital records are only open to family members…Sorry. If you would follow me, there’s an office just down the hall you can wait in.” “What about security cameras? The hospital has those right?” Vivi’s question is ignored. They follow the man into a small room just off the main hall. It is neat, with a shelf of plain binders and a sparsely decorated desk. Probably someone’s personal office. Whereas the hospital foyer had been filled with the gentle hum of people, this room is quiet and muffled. “Just…stay here. Shouldn’t be too long. Help yourself to the water.” Lewis notes the water cooler and a stack of plastic cups in the corner. The man, still disgruntled, beats a hasty retreat, leaving them to take a seat on the padded chairs adjacent to the desk. A least its a bit more comfortable. “What was that about?” Lewis asks once the doctor is gone, to which Vivi gives a frustrated sigh. “I have this…hunch. I don’t think what happened to Lance just now was an accident.” “Lance…” He starts, and has to pause to shake the image Lance Kingsman, pale and unmoving - if Lewis had walked in any later-, “He was admitted for stab wounds…and now the police have been called….you don’t think that…” “…Whoever did the stabbing came back? That’s exactly what I think.” Lewis’s stomach twists, sick with worry. If Lance was being targeted, did that mean Arthur was in danger as well? If Arthur was in danger or hurt, Lewis can’t help but feel guilty, like this might be his fault. “It could have been complications with the surgery,” He voices weakly, wondering just how many more unpleasant surprises were in store for them today. Vivi releases a long breath, “Do you think, if I asked at the reception, that they’d remember seeing a dude in a leather vest come through?” Lewis raises a brow at the odd and somewhat random question. Even if there hadn’t been a change in shift, the chances of hospital staff remembering a single individual amongst the hundreds he’d seen coming and going was low. “Not unless the guy was really distinctive?” He leads off with a question, hoping she would elaborate. She doesn’t, lapsing back into silence. Uncomfortable silence. Lewis exhales, stands, and walks to the water cooler. Neither of them has drunken anything all day. That, coupled with food high in salt, meant they were most likely dehydrated. He fills and puts a small plastic cup in Vivi’s hand, sipping one of his own, collapsing back down into the chair. “Do you know anyone who wears a leather vest, darker hair, big beard, really angry looking?” Vivi gulps the water down in one go, staring expectantly. “…” Lewis quickly runs through all the people he knew, but no one immediately jumps out. “Why?” “I met this guy in the carpark. The reason I was a bit late,” A guilty grimace, “He was looking for Arthur and recognised your purple hair. He thought I might know where Arthur was because I was with you.” “Strange….A customer maybe?… We do get a few strange ones.” “That’s just it. I mean, if he was after just you then maybe, but he wasn’t. He was after Arthur…Also, he was real weird about it. He looked pretty beat up to, like he’d been in a fight.” Lewis’s thoughts cycle and land on one particular, almost violent, encounter which fit the description. “There was this one guy…This would have happened about four weeks back…Arthur got himself into trouble annoying some guy about fixing their motorcycle. I think we told you about it. Anyway, the man was decked out in a lot of leather and stayed in town for a week. He left without much fanfare aside from starting a load of rumours.” What were the odds that this was the same guy, though? Arthur, after narrowly escaping being punched by the man, and in between bemoaning poor engine maintenance, had mentioned that the bike was made for hardcore road-tripping. The guy should be long gone. Lewis shakes away the fonder memory. “I actually saw him before he left town. He came into the diner to apologise for almost punching Arthur. There was another man with him, I think. What did he want?” He distinctly remembers the encounter because he had thought, what with how invested Arthur had been in fixing up the motorcycle - against the wishes of its possessive owner-, that he would be pleased to find out his verdict was correct. Only, Arthur hadn’t been pleased. He hadn’t reacted to the news at all. “Yeah, well, mystery man might have implied that Arthur is either working with, or possessed by, a demon. And that’s why Arthur’s been acting all weird these last few weeks.” Lewis stares at Vivi waiting for the punchline of whatever odd joke she’s telling. There is no punch line. She’s serious. “That’s…” “Crazy? Yup…it sure is.” Vivi crosses her arms again and frowns, agitated. Vivi loves myths, legends and investigating supernatural phenomenon. If someone in Tempo whispered the word ghost, then it was a sure bet that Vivi wasn’t far behind. Personally, Lewis enjoyed ghost hunting and investigating as a hobby, but he had never really believed that any of the stuff they searched around for was real. The fact that Vivi appeared so shaken by this encounter has him re-evaluating the gut reaction to deny. “What do you think? You know more about this stuff than me.” “Well, he said some stuff about demons possessing people via touch and having green eyes, which kind of lines up with the stuff I’ve read, but that doesn’t mean much. He could have just read the same books as me.” More frowning. “Honestly, it’s far-fetched…and he probably is just a crazy person who, I dunno, wanted to get his bike fixed. Just… It would be nice to blame all our problems on some random ‘demon’ and call it a day. But…that feels like I’m making up an excuse for being an unobservant friend. I mean, Arthur was acting weird way before Lance was attacked, so I’m not sure.” As Vivi speaks, growing more restless and upset, Lewis attempts to envision the leather guy to act as a target for his growing anger. Not a lot of things can make Lewis hate a person but, even if the guy wasn’t messing with Arthur, upsetting Vivi like this would do it. Tenderly, Lewis reaches out, threading their fingers together. Maybe, he’s been relying too heavily on Vivi’s quick thinking. Time to offer up his own theories. “We don’t know it’s not connected somehow. If this guy is the same guy from a few weeks back, then he might have been in contact with Arthur since then. From what I remember, he didn’t seem like a nice dude. Even when he came to apologise, it was like someone was forcing his hand. Pretty insincere at any rate. Maybe, it’s like you said, and he is just behind this recent attack. Or maybe he’s involved with everything...or this is a weird coincidence and not connected at all.” Lewis pauses then adds more confidently. “Just because it’s weird, doesn’t mean we should discount it entirely.” Isn’t that what Vivi always said whenever they went ghost hunting? Vivi squeezes his hand back, lips twitching up, apparently thinking again. “The timing does sort of work…” She agrees, hesitant, “I just wish I knew more. It feels like I’m missing something important.” Lewis takes a breath and continues, speaking faster to get the words out. “Arthur panicking at the hotel wasn’t the only time it happened. On the drive out, just before we stopped at that View Point, I asked a question about Arthur’s lack of online presence. I thought he was trying to avoid me. He cut our conversation off and almost drove us all over a cliff.” That had been particularly painful, and Lewis can still feel the sting of realising that Arthur would rather almost crash the van then talk to him. Until that moment, he and Arthur had always talked through their disagreements. “Oh,” Vivi stalls, thrown, “I…I mean, I sort of knew something was wrong but…” “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know that I feel the same way about the 'being an unobservant friend' thing. If I had just said something or paid more attention …then maybe stuff would have happened differently.” A beat of quiet. Vivi stares then lets out a long huff. “Geez, we make quite a pair don’t we…” A knock. The door to the office opens, putting their discussion on hold. A thin man in an officer’s uniform steps through, conversing with someone over his shoulder. He turns, glancing over them both.

“Which of you was the one to alert hospital staff to Lance Kingman’s condition?”

NOTE: ‘Leiws and Vivi exposition dump’ because I gotta make sure everyone’s up to speed -and this shits been going on long enough- for when I launch into the EPIC climax only like 2000-4000words away now! (gonna finish this fic even if it kills me).

Part 31: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #Vivi Yukino #Lewis pepper #time travel #talking about stuff #lewis angst #Vivi angst #angst and feels #trying to solve the arthur mystery continues #so close yet so far

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diyunho · 5 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “The One That Got Away” Part 2

The terrorist attack targeting Wayne National Bank nearly three years ago left only one survivor behind: Y/N almost died from the injuries, but she was lucky enough to wake up at the hospital days later. It was so hard to cope with the news: on top of losing her eyesight, the young woman lost her co-workers also and strangely enough the one responsible for the entire tragedy wasn’t The Clown Prince of Crime.

Four weeks later

“Now we’re going up five steps,” Bruce announces and you carefully walk holding on to his arm. “Almost there. Do you want more champagne or a cocktail?”

“Actually Mister Wayne, I would like a shot of whiskey,” you reply and he signals the bartender.

“I wouldn’t mind one either,” he adds and orders: “Two shots of whiskey please!”

“How long do we have to be here?” you exhale, enjoying the ambiance nevertheless. You wish this could be one of the instances when you are able to see; it must be a really fancy venue. Unfortunately, your vision didn’t return at all after the incident leading up to The Joker saving you from the Triple Star gang.

“Maybe another hour or so, unless you don’t feel well and then I can drive you back to your apartment.”

“I’m ok, no worries. It’s just a bit weird: I’m not used to this kind of stuff,” a nervous Y/N confesses.

“Charity balls can be overwhelming,” Bruce nods in agreement. “Everyone talks and talks, eats, drinks and talks some more. The purpose is to make these rich people give up on their money for good causes so it’s worth it.”

You laugh at his honesty, making sure to underline you’re grateful for the opportunity:

“Thank you for including my charity; I really appreciate it and it means a lot. I will be able to help more people.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Bruce sighs, grabbing the drinks from the bartender. “Here you go,” the glass is given to you. “Since this year it was my turn to organize the event, might as well use the hype from what happened to the Angel of Gotham and get you more funding. Sorry, I don’t want to sound insensitive,” he apologizes when he notices the change in your mood. “That was stupid to say,” Bruce admonishes himself and you try to stir the conversation towards another topic.

“It’s fine; I understand what you mean, Mister Wayne,” you taste a sip of alcohol and continue. “If you want to ask any questions about what happened… you can.”

The billionaire puckers his lips, debating on the unexpected chance to dig out some information that could shed some light on your abduction and surprising intervention from The Clown Prince of Crime. He did read the police report with your statement courtesy of Commissar Gordon, yet off the record discussion is more than welcomed.

“Let’s go on the terrace then for more privacy,” he suggests and you take Bruce’s arm again, following his guidance.

You pass by people engaged in several chats, hoping nobody will stop you for trivial interrogations you’re not comfortable answering.

“Did they… did they…e-hem… do… anything…ummm…to you?” Bruce stutters because he has no idea how to convey the inquiry without sounding like a total jerk invading your personal life.

“I said it to the cops also: no, I wasn’t sexually assaulted,” you reaffirm and he grumbles, relieved.

“Thank goodness,” the 35 year old taps your fingers. “I don’t even know why my mouth even uttered such rubbish…I know it’s none of my business,” and he immediately corrects the sentence. “As in of course I would care about something like that, but I shouldn’t force you to share.”

“You’re digging your own grave, Mister Wayne,” you interrupt his tirade since he doesn’t know how to handle the situation.

“Uh, I know. I’m sorry Y/N,” and you laughter makes him chuckle too. “Bad luck,“ Bruce concludes as soon as you are both on the patio. “There are lots of people outside; do you mind using the small conference room? It’s empty,” he gazes through the opened glass doors and you follow him, compliant.

“Of course, no problem.”

“Let’s take a sit on this purple couch,” he urges and you oblige, smiling:

“So many purple items around here,” Y/N has to emphasize because Bruce kept on describing the environment to her and that stood out. “A splash of color never hurts; it must be really nice.”

“I like purple; it’s my favorite color,” he stares at you, searching for a reaction when the tip of the knife he’s holding almost touches your cornea. But there’s no reflex and the man smirks, returning the blade to his pocket. He drinks some more, restarting the debriefing:

“Do you know where you were taken? I mean, I know you are not able to see, still did anything catch your attention? Any noises? Particular smells?”

“No, nothing” you pout. “I assume it was outside town: it was quiet and Gotham is never silent. They transported me in a van, a larger vehicle. I’m sure of that since there were several individuals with me. A few moments after being kidnapped I was hit in the head and passed out.”

And when you woke up you were blind again, not that Bruce needs to know.

“I think I was locked in a basement, very tiny space…I was given some food and water. I lost track of time and at one point I heard someone yelling that The Joker arrived, then a lot of turmoil and a harsh argument. It worsened and almost lost my mind when the shooting started: I was so scared and had no clue about what the hell was happening.”

You pause and gulp, the memory of the frightful circumstances making you shrug.

“My apologies,” Bruce remorsefully hums. “I shouldn’t make you recall such an unpleasant experience… I will get us some grape juice on ice.”

“Grape juice?...” you take advantage of the welcomed change in topic. Great way to divert your attention from the anxiety you feel while saying out loud what you already disclosed to the cops.

“It’s such a refreshing beverage; I can’t live without it,” he admits and tries to stand up but you stop him.

“Please don’t go; if someone stumbles upon this room in your absence it will be awkward for me; you’re the only person I know at this reception.”

“Of course,” Bruce agrees right away. “I’m definitely not in my best shape today; we can go and get the drinks together.”

“That’s better,” you smile yet don’t show any signs you want to move so he patiently waits; the philanthropist assumes there’s more you wish to say and he doesn’t push for a continuation of your story.

Y/N finishes the drink and glares at the man veiled in darkness just like everything else surrounding her.

“Do you know what the scariest part was, Mister Wayne?”

Complete stillness and you whisper:

“When I heard somebody screamed: Grenade! It was such a powerful explosion, it reminded me of what happened that day at the bank…”

Bruce doesn’t respond and a tearful Y/N wraps up her story in a way that makes her date impatient for the grand finale:

“The air was so thick I couldn’t even breathe and I fainted. I remember hands digging me out from under the rubble, words and sentences I couldn’t comprehend since I was drifting in and out of consciousness. And then I woke up at the hospital…”

“Mmm…” Bruce pouts. “Do you have any idea why The Joker saved you?”

“I was told about the incident at my Soup Kitchen…and I was shocked. I have no idea why he did that…” you reveal not mentioning you spent countless hours debating about it.

“Possibly because he’s sick and tired of The Triple Star gang meddling with his plans? What kind of stupid name is that anyway? Triple Star!!” he hisses. “Do you know they all have three star tattooed on their backs?! Who does that anymore?! What are they?! Kindergarten brats?!”

Why is Bruce getting so mad?!

“The Joker owns Gotham! Nobody else!!!”

You’re a bit uncomfortable with his rant and it shows.

“Mister Wayne…”

He has no more patience and you get cut off:

“You know why The Joker rescued you? Because he needs you for something, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered. And to prove he’s in charge and not the competition!”

“Mister Wayne, please calm down. You’re making me nervous…” a concerned Y/N pleads.

The man scoffs, straining to regain control over himself.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he chuckles and takes your hand into his, amused by what he’s about to divulge. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Y-yes, of course,” you stammer and want to continue when he reaches over and kisses you, biting your lower lip seconds afterwards.

You wince in pain, freezing when the tone changes to one you hoped you won’t hear again:

“Oh my; am I too rough, sugar?”

You yank your hands away but he won’t let go.

“What is this?!” you pant, struggling to distance yourself from The Joker without success.

He laughs with all his heart, enjoying your stunned attitude.

“It’s your old pal J with the best voice synthesizer money can buy. It’s not that hard to copy someone’s voice with these things, especially since you can find interviews online with the pretty boy.”

You stop fighting his clasp and carefully listen to the wireless mike hidden in your ear:

“Remain calm, Y/N! No matter what you do, don’t set him off!”

The Clown Prince of Crime though has to brag about his achievement and makes sure to bring you up to speed:

“I picked you up in my limo before he did; the rich boy probably wondered where you were when he showed up at your apartment. Congratulations, sugar: you just stood up a billionaire,” the green haired madman snickers. “I have plenty of resources to recreate a party and people that work for me to pose as guests. You’re not at a charity ball, sugar; I simply took you to one of my humble abodes.”

You feel so exposed, yet your current situation demands a strong determination to help maintain the appearances. The Joker’s fingers suddenly go around your neck, the immediate threat resonating in the room:

“You will do money laundering for me! You will do as I say or I’ll make your life a living hell to the point of you now knowing what’s real and what’s not! Do I make myself clear?!!” he snaps and you nod a yes, obedient to his request.

“Good girl,” he sniffs your scent. “Now I should take you back, I’m tired with the charade; it was fun but exhausting,” he grins and can’t shut up: “The pretty boy must be wondering where you are.”

You want to hold in the defiant remark but can’t:

“What makes you think Mister Wayne doesn’t know where I am?”

“Oh shit!” you hear in your ear. “We’re moving in!”

The Joker frowns, intrigued: the red dots focusing on his chest are an affirmation of snipers ready to take him out.

“What did you do, sugar?” he barks and takes the knife out of his pocket, stabbing your abdomen: the resistance he encounters gives another clue he got played. Y/N is wearing a customized bullet proof vest under her cocktail dress but it’s not enough to stop the blade.

“T-thank you…” you have time to tell him before they barge in.

“For what?” he resentfully snarls, removing the knife from your body.

“For proving you don’t deserve to be saved,” you admit with such serenity he’s thrown off for once.

The noise of broken glass and shattered objects makes you jump as you moan in pain.

“On your knees!!!” the squad barges in, aiming their rifles at The Joker. “Drop the weapon! NOW!”

The gun shots echoing throughout the house are a logical testimony that the SWAT team is swiping out the premises, taking out those from The Joker’s crew daring to fight back.

“Hands above your head!” the team leader shouts and the kneeled King of Gotham obeys with a demented smirk as the knife he dropped is being kicked away from him.

“Civilian hurt, requiring medical assistance!” another team member requests, pressing on your wound. “Don’t worry Miss, you’ll be fine. OK?” the guy reassures. “You were very brave,” he praises your skills. You lay down on the couch, shaking from the throbbing ache.

“I don’t feel very brave…”

**************

5 Months Later, Arkham Asylum

The buzz lets you know the 6th gate for Level 1 Clarence is opened and you can pass towards you final destination: the highest security area inside the Arkham Asylum reserved for the most dangerous criminally insane.

“Here she is,” the guard points at the one of the screens depicting Y/N searching the space in front of her with the cane. “Punctual as always,” he tries to joke with Bruce Wayne.

“I know,” he flatly responds. “I’m the one that brings her here.”

The head of security gives the guard a disapproving gaze and the subaltern shuts it down, pretending not to notice the sour expression on his boss’s face.

The four men present watch the monitors in silence while a geared up staff helps you enter the interrogation room where The Joker already awaits, tight up in his straightjacket and chained up to the floor. You take a sit across from his chair, the white table separating the two people being the only object standing out in the padded room.

The Clown intensely stares at the table and you blankly glare at him; that’s how every visit goes: 10 minutes every week on Wednesdays, perfect quietness since he didn’t articulate a single word after he was captured 5 months ago.

The Arkham Asylum patients are not allowed to have visitors, yet Bruce Wayne and his lawyers found a loophole that allows Y/N to briefly visit The King of Gotham once every seven days. That’s all they were able to obtain without going to court and it was fine with you: it’s better than nothing so you didn’t argue.

The Joker has the right to refuse the visit but he never does: he shows up for the short meetings, not talking nor looking your way. Who knows what’s going on in his brain besides the obvious insanity?...

“I admire her courage,” the head of security addresses Commissar Gordon since he’s the fourth person there. “Even if I don’t get it: why would she want to be around a crazy psychopath? He tried to murder her!”

Jim scratches his chin, sharing a theory him and Bruce talked about:

“He didn’t aim to kill, otherwise he would have cut her throat or stabbed her in the head. I suppose that in his twisted mind he sees Y/N as a worthy adversary because I’m sure he didn’t expect a blind woman to give him so much trouble. We’ve been trying to catch him for a long time and we finally succeeded thanks to her agreeing to be the bait. When we approached Y/N with the idea, we knew he might target her after he saved her from the kidnappers. There’s no way The Joker would do something like that without a purpose. We discretely guarded her 24/7 and made sure to stay out of sight in order not to arise any suspicions since he was watching for sure. He’s not stupid: he planned his scheme carefully and maybe we had sheer luck with the whole operation. Who knows?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” the guard gestures at the screen. “I think he said something!”

“Holy crap!” Gordon blurs out. “Rewind and turn up the volume!”

The camera feed is replayed for the small group watching the short conversation that just took place.

“Can I help you?” The Joker’s husky tone is discerned.

“No,” the indifferent Y/N instantly replies.

“I’ll be damned!” the guard opens his mouth in amazement. “He talked to her!”

The monitor reverts to live broadcast and everyone holds their breath when you get up from your chair and J protests:

“Your 10 minutes aren’t up yet!”

You’re still standing and he wiggles in his straightjacket, uncomfortable.

“I have this strand of hair tickling my cheek; drives me nuts. Would you fix my locks? I can’t do it myself since I’m in a little bit of predicament for the moment.”

They watch you walk around the table and searching around with your hands while the madman grins, actually guiding you.

“Two more steps to your left. Now one more straight forwards. Another one. Jackpot!” he purrs when your fingers search for the strand of green hair you cannot see, but it’s not that hard to find.

“Alert the wards to intervene!” the head of security orders but Gordon has a different opinion:

“No, let her do it if she wants to.”

You caress his hair a few times, turning around to go back to your chair.

“Thank you sugar,” J sarcastically offers fake gratitude. “I truly don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Yes, you’re fortunate The Angel of Gotham took pity on you and got rid of that horrible itch.”

The Joker can’t hold in a disturbing laugh since he finds your statement entertaining by his quirky standards.

“I’m honored. Hey... hey, come back here: I have another itch you can scratch!”

You get ready to criticize his remark and he’s aware.

“It’s my collar bone, sugar! I’m not a perv, don’t get worked up for nothing!” The Clown pretends to get angry at your assumption.

You return by his side and bury your fingers in his jacket, gently scratching the soft skin.

“That’s moooore like it,” he purrs louder, the satisfying groan making you retract your arm. “Ahhh, so nice of you to help a friend in need,” the entitled silver smile dies out on his lips once you interrupt:

“We’re not friends!”

“Of course we are,” he sneers. “I stabbed you: that’s how I seal the deal.”

Gordon furrows his eyebrows, totally captivated by the chat.

“What is she doing?...” he asks as a rhetorical question and Bruce enlightens everyone anyway:

“Playing his game…”

Back in the padded room you stump back to your spot and grab your cane, preparing to bail.

“Are you gonna come see me again?” The Joker curiously demands to know.

“No.”

“Why not?”

You huff and he cackles, entertained:

“That’s fine, I’ll survive: just like you survived the Wayne Bank terrorist attack and the basement I dug you out of.”

It’s so hard not to fight his venomous barking.

But you keep it together and the custodian opens the door, a weary Y/N emerging from her weekly visit with The Joker yelling and squirming behind her, enraged he cannot escape confinement:

“Who dug you out, huh? Who dug you out? Was it The Batman? The police? Or me?”

He’s becoming more and more agitated, the chief of security pressing a button that opens a sealed exit to The Joker’s left.

“Sedate him,” he commands the six caretakers rushing in while The Clown keeps screaming:

“Get back here!! That’s an order!!” and your disobedience prompts another tantrum as they inject him with the sleep medicine: “Who do you think you are, hm?” he shouts so loud it finally triggers a reaction from your part; you slowly spin towards him, making sure to articulate the perfect words:

“I’m the one that got away.”

Part 1: diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/185672114796/the-joker-x-reader-the-one-that-got-away-part-1

Also read: MASTERLIST

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on AO3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: Diyunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker x reader #joker suicide squad #joker jared leto #mister j #Mistah J #mr. j #dc #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x reader

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thelastpilot · 5 years

Text

The Monster in the Room- Chapter 11

Oh SNAP, it’s a come back (again) ((sorry))

You can catch up on AO3 if you’ve forgotten whats happening cause i sure did.

Adrien arrived to school Friday morning on time, not as desperate to be early, but not so un-invested as to be late. He didn’t bother with the quad again, heading straight for class and trying to have no expectations. He couldn’t help but have some sort of hope reserved as he approached the classroom, the fall air chill and biting as he climbed the stairs and crossed the landing that was nearly barren.

Nearly, but not utterly, and Adrien slowed up when he looked ahead and saw Marinette and Alya standing outside the door, talking quietly to themselves.

They were talking tensely, Alya’s expression stoic as she nodded to something the witch had said. Marinette’s posture was tense in a different way, her hands folded in front of her chest as she spoke quickly. He was a short distance away before they noticed him, both girls turning to face him and showing him clearly that something was on their mind.

By the time he joined them he was already worried.

“What’s up?” he asked plainly, looking between the two of them. His eyes landed first on Marinette, but she looked away, pulling her fingers through one of her pigtails and failing to make eye contact. Alya however did not, and met Adrien’s gaze without beating around the bush.

“We don’t really know yet but Marinette says Ms. B is nervous. She stopped us when we walked in and asked us to wait outside for you and to let her know when you were with us. That’s about all we know.”

“Ms. B wanted us to wait outside?” Adrien repeated, looking between them again until Marinette finally looked up at him and nodded.

“The whole class is tense,” Marinette reported, smoothing at her dress like her hands were anxious and searching for something to do. He put a hand on her shoulder sympathetically, knowing too much of the same negative emotion could be unpleasant for her. “Ms. Bustier is clearly worried and I think everyone can tell that somethings wrong.” She grimaced, huffing a little as she continued. “Chloe is starting rumors and people are starting to notice that Nino only made it through half of class. They’re asking where he is.”

“Obviously we’re wondering the same thing,” Alya chimed in, folding her arms and keeping an eye on the door. “The difference is though that we’re not going to fault him for it and other people probably will. Him joining class is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while, so even him not being here is making him the center of attention. Pretty sure that’s the last thing Ms. B wants, and now she wants to talk to us alone.”

“You think it’s about Nino? Maybe it’s something else, something about class.”

Adrien said it without any real confidence, and from the looks on their faces they clearly believed it as little as he had meant it.

People had tried to be casual and distant when he was around, but now that he was absent it was a ripe time for rumors to start. It didn’t surprise him that Chloe was getting things moving now that he was out a second day in a row, and it just meant that when he did come back, because Adrien knew that he would, it was just going to be that much harder.

Mr. Damocles had sprung Nino’s enrollment on everyone and done it matter-of-factly, then like a whirlwind he had shown up the next day, bailed halfway through and never returned. Naturally students were going to start talking.

They stood for a moment and said nothing, wondering what their involvement was, if their assumption was correct.

“Should we tell her that you’re here?” Marinette said after a while, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she felt his trepidation.

“I suppose yeah,” Adrien murmured. He didn’t know what she wanted, but the only way to know was to ask.

Adrien opened the door only enough to pop his head in, the sound of people talking amongst themselves rising to meet him now that the bridge between places was opened. Ms. Bustier was standing by her desk, but looked up to regard the door the second it opened. When she saw it was him she held up a hand, motioning for him to remain outside but acknowledging his presence.

They shut the door and waited, having nothing left to say to each other as they stood aside patiently, the hall and quad now completely empty except for themselves.

Adrien jumped when the door opened, Alya still managing to chuckle despite the circumstance and he shot her a grimace. Marinette giggled a little as well, but they turned to attention as Ms. Bustier stepped into the hallway, her hooves clattering as she cleared the doorway and closed the door behind her.

“Good morning everyone,” she greeted them as a whole, the teacher fussing with her hair before clearing her throat.

Marinette fidgeted uncomfortably.

They murmured their good mornings but offered nothing else, waiting patiently for her to continue. After a short time she seemed to take a deep breath, speaking calmly.

“Thank you for waiting for me, I wanted to speak with you all as a group before class began. I have a… sensitive request.”

“Sensitive?” Alya echoed, though her tone wasn’t entirely surprised. Everyone was just waiting.

“Yes…” she hesitated, and the kids were stunned to watch her stop, very carefully considering her next words.

Finally she sighed, folding her hands.

“I know the three of you have noticed your new classmate’s absences. As you have likely already assumed Nino is struggling to adjust and is having a very difficult time. I fear him attending school so soon after having been brought here was a mistake on my part, I had been too eager to introduce him… as a result he was overwhelmed, and is unable to attend class.”

She paused again, carefully gauging their reactions. Alya and Marinette both looked somber, but Adrien was still waiting.

“I know your interactions were brief,” she continued after a moment, looking between each other them, “but I also know that they helped him. I saw the way you girls engaged him when he first came in and how receptive he was to it, excited to be making friends. And you Adrien, you stayed with him and knew when not to push or intrude and I know how prepared you are to do as I asked. And I wonder now if this is too much to ask of students but… I’ve done what I can, and I’m afraid that I can’t help him the way that his peers possibly could. That was in part why I was so quick to introduce him. I knew he needed to make connections of some kind… but I was too heavy handed.”

Ms. Bustier stood before them, asking them gently.

“You have every right to refuse if the idea makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, but I assure you that Nino is a wonderful and kind boy, and he would never hurt anyone. I tried to give him space, but I’m not sure that’s what is best for him now. It is informal, and probably considered inappropriate by most to ask children to step up like this but… all I’m asking is that you visit him.”

She looked between the three of them, intently sorting through their glances and body posture to gauge their reactions.

“I think he needs-,”

“I’ll go,” Adrien answered immediately, shifting his weight on his feet and looking to all the world like he was prepared to go right that second, looking up at his teacher and speaking quickly. “I’ll sit with him Ms. B, I just need to know the room. I can go now, if I can be excused I mean, please.” He added this as an afterthought, glancing once towards the classroom he had promptly forgotten. School seemed so unimportant right now.

“Not so fast Adrien, wait just a moment.” Ms. Bustier reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, enough pressure to make it clear he was to stay still. “I know you’re eager to help, but this is very serious. He’s panicking and unwell. You can’t just go in full speed; you have to be gentle.”

Adrien looked up at her with wide eyes, probably intent on defending the fact that he always intended to be careful. The girls behind him began to murmur, and Caline hesitated to explain. But she needed them to be wise.

She braced herself, silently begging that they would understand.

“We… haven’t extensively covered lycanthropy in our classes, something I now regret but…” she sighed. “It’s too late to fix. I can only ask that you all be as understanding as possible, and recognize how difficult this must be for him.”

The girls fell silent, Adrien continuing to look on unflinchingly. Only waiting for the moment he was allowed to leave. Ms. B nodded to herself, attempting to explain delicately.

“You know how shifting between forms typically works, how it is tied to intention and a sense of self. Changing however works differently for everyone… and young Nino has no experience with such things. He has no background knowledge to support him, and is not in a mindset to listen when I try and speak to him. With werewolves the moon represents an unavoidable transformation, but it is not the only time they can change over. And he…” she hesitated, folding her hands across her stomach as she sorted through the words. She looked away from all of them, looking briefly to the floor.

“He is not coping… well, with the changes. As of now, he cannot change back. I’m sure you can imagine, for someone who has never consciously changed before that this would be very… startling.”

She wanted to keep her eyes away from their faces, thinking now of her lost, struggling student buried in the back of the school. She didn’t want to see fear, or unease, but what could she expect of them. She knew how the world viewed people like him. She knew-…

She looked up when no one spoke. And felt her heart almost pause.

As no one reacted.

By the time she gathered the courage to look at them she saw the three of them standing resolutely, something immeasurably empathetic on their faces. Caline straightened as she looked at them, able to feel as her burden slipped slightly from her fingers, held up unexpectedly by the strength of children.

Adrien still stood taunt as a wire, as ready to go as before, if not suddenly more so. She looked over at the girls, Alya’s expression the hardest to judge but Marinette’s painfully kind. She expected, somehow, for them to be scared of him…

But even now they just wanted to help.

“Where is he staying?” Adrien asked again, scooting slightly from his position. He glanced again in the direction he remembered Nino fleeing, that hollow ache he had felt before surging again.

“He’s…-,” she paused, looking between them before settling back on Adrien, seeming a little stunned. “He’s in the empty wing, all the way down on the far side. Room 217, I believe.”

She quickly put a hand on Adrien again to keep him from rushing off, firm as she reiterated, “You need to be gentle. He isn’t going to want to see anyone I imagine but… we can’t leave him alone either. I’m not even sure he’ll be able to speak to you, but I know he can still listen if you keep him company.” She looked to the girls to make sure they understood this advice was meant for them as well, sending them along as well in part to keep Adrien from being over eager. With Marinette’s added intuitiveness and Alya’s abilities… it seemed wise. “He would demand that you leave if he could, so please try not to push it and don’t crowd him. His dog will be on the defensive, so don’t push him either.”

“Yes mam’,” the kids responded immediately, and Caline couldn’t help but feel another wave of guilt.

“I shouldn’t be sending you at all but… seeing his peers might…-,” she stopped, humming slightly as she seemed to reconsider. As soon as Adrien noticed her doubt though she could feel his shoulders tense up, and she was made aware of the fact that at this point, she probably couldn’t stop him.

“We won’t push it Madame,” Alya spoke up, her voice calm and earnest. “Marinette can tell us if it’s too much, and we’ll leave before too long. It’s just a visit, we’ll be careful.”

“He isn’t dangerous,” she repeated, almost as a reflex, but she needed to be realistic too… he was cornered.

“I know Ms.,” Adrien assured her, stating it so firmly that… after a moment…

She relented.

“Okay… you are excused from class for this, we’re reviewing the previous lesson as it is. Don’t stay for too long but… you may go.”

The moment she lifted her hand Adrien turned on his heel, already knowing the hallway she meant and heading straight there. Ms. Bustier may have said something else but… Adrien wasn’t in the mood for waiting anymore.

He didn’t run, but he moved quickly down the walkway, aware of the fact that the girls were rushing to keep up with him but more intent on getting away from Ms. B. He didn’t want to give her the opportunity to change her mind, even if part of him knew that she was the authority on this in the end he just…

He needed to go. It was just the right thing to do now. He was going to listen, he wasn’t going to force his way in but… somebody needed to go. Somebody needed to tell him that he wasn’t a coward.

“Adrien wait!” Marinette’s voice cut through, jogging to get ahead of him as they made it to the mouth of the abandoned hallway, Adrien turning quickly past her and starting down it anyways.

It was instantly colder in the unpopulated sections of the campus, no body heat or traffic to keep it from feeling completely empty. The lights were on, but it may as well have been dim, the long walls filled with empty bulletin boards and locked classroom doors making it clear that no one came down here very often. Now suddenly however it had three inhabitants the trio forced to match Adrien’s urgency and he continued further into the school.

“Listen I know you want to help but we can’t run in, we’re going to scare him.”

“I’m not going to break the door down I’m going to knock,” Adrien defended himself, trying not to be annoyed. When he looked at her though Marinette was frowning, shooting a hard look up at him. He only matched her for a second more before he just focused on the hall, part of him sort of wishing he was allowed to do this alone. After a moment of his silence Marinette huffed slightly, turning to Alya instead. “We shouldn’t go all the way in, we should stand by the door in case he wants us to leave.” Adrien kept walking undeterred, the girls falling to either side of him.

“He’s going to want us to leave the second we get there,” Alya answered softly, Adrien staring ahead. “We’re going to have to stick it out a little but just, warn us if he gets too upset.”

As they walked Adrien shot a small glance to the side, checking Marinette’s face. He was never sure how far out her perception went but…

He didn’t see her posture tighten until they hit the second hallway, moving down it now as they each checked the numbers. By the time they were most the way down, past a dozen or so shuttered, dusty doorways, her lips were pressed into a tight line.

The girls allowed Adrien to lead, all of them prepping themselves in one way or another as they drew near, Adrien taking a deep breath as he ran through what he could possibly say. He didn’t come up with much when he saw the faded 217 painted on an old placard outside the furthest door, a thin strip of light shining onto the tile. They all shared a glance as they realized that it was ajar, and despite their determination…

Everyone paused.

Adrien took a moment, leaning forward to listen carefully. He didn’t hear anything distinctive, save what suddenly felt like a deafening silence. After a brief moment, he heard a soft click, like a claw on tile. Then nothing again.

They were waiting on him, and Adrien thought back to something he had thought before.

Nino was the bravest person in the world…

So he tried to be a little like him.

The knock on the door felt like the loudest thing for miles, but Adrien didn’t wait for a response he knew wouldn’t come. For better or for worse he gently pushed the door in, taking three steps forward before he heard the growl.

Adrien froze, his hand locked on the door handle as his heart rate scampered. He instinctively looked towards the sound, an apology or an excuse about to bubble out from him before he looked down, taking in a lot at once.

The room was scattered and weird feeling, desks barricaded against the walls and windows and the air thick with intensity. Adrien barely had time to notice the torn, discarded clothes the Shepherd stood upon before his hands were in the air warding against the animal that took a threatening step forward, a deep growl resonating from its chest.

“It’s me its me!” Adrien spoke up immediately. “Carter don’t, I’m not gonna come in all the way okay, you just stay there.”

Adrien shimmied enough to let the girls slowly poke their head in, Marinette immediately cooing softly to the dog who was dutifully on guard.

“Carter it’s okay! It’s just us, we’re okay. We just came to check in, I promise. Everything’s okay.”

She spoke softly and crouched low, smiling as sweetly as she could. Adrien had to resist the sigh of relief when Carter tilted his head, the Shepherd shifting in position slightly and looking at the witch, then back to him, then back to the witch.

Adrien stepped to the side again to let her come further in but froze in fear when the dog zeroed back in, a growl starting to build back up before Marinette was cooing again, gently appealing to the animal.

While she had his attention Adrien used the moment to scan the room, his hands still up as he looked through as much as he could in what light the windows provided.

It was… dismal, to say the least, and he fought off another wave of pity he was trying to avoid. The cabinet… the bed… the clothes heaped on the ground. It all painted a horrible picture, something he had been obsessing over ever since he ran away from him. A few trays of food lay largely uneaten not far from the door, trails of pieces dotted across the floor as if chunks of it had been dragged and taken farther in. As far as he could see though, there was no one else there. Marinette was still working on the dog, so he braved another step in, craning his neck to look around the space. It didn’t make sense for Carter to be here alone… he was clearly protecting something.

It was only when the dog looked behind him that Adrien thought to look under, the animal checking the darkness for something he couldn’t hear before looking back towards them, taking an unsure step backwards.

Right…

Adrien took a shaky breath and looked over at the girls, both of whom were focused on the same space he was. The cramped, low shadow of the bed frame. Alya looked over at him from her place by the door, and after a moment everyone took another slow movement further in.

Adrien spoke as he moved, never going towards the bed but just allowing the others some space, Marinette electing to settle on her knees and focus on Carter who seemed conflicted.

“Hey… hey man um…” he hesitated, cursing internally on being as unsure as ever. He looked to the girls briefly for help, but he knew he had to take the lead. “Listen I know you probably don’t want to see anyone right now but, we didn’t want to just go to class without coming to see you. I uh, I know you can’t really say much right now but, we just wanted to stop by for a second. Let you know about class and stuff. Maybe just sit, for a sec. If that’s okay with you.”

The silence was thick, Marinette scooting forward a little and trying to keep a smile for Carter who looked like he was getting more agitated. The poor dog whined and padded his paws on the cool ground, checking into the hiding place obsessively, its entire body tense.

“Adrien,” Marinette whispered suddenly, and it took him a moment to look away.

When he did he saw Alya now crouched on her knees as well, both of them making a small gesture for him to mimic them. It was awkward, but he slowly got down as well, keeping a careful eye on the dog.

Adrien lowered his hands into his lap, watching as Carter started to pace, getting closer and closer to the bed itself protectively. He saw Marinette fidget a little in discomfort, balling her dress slightly in her hands in the corner of his eye… so he tried again.

Nino didn’t hear anything that Adrien was saying, not really, not in any genuine way. Of course he could hear him, everything was so much. So loud. But it didn’t mean anything.

‘Nino?’ Carter said for the dozenth time, whining desperately as he paced out in the open, fighting the urge to crawl underneath the bed with him where he had been waiting before. ‘Nino what do I do? Do you want me to make them leave? Do you want me to go with you? What do you…-,’ Carter hesitated, only his paws visible to his owner as they skittered and shifted. He ducked his head down low again so they could see each other, asking tensely again, ‘What do you want me to do? Nino?’

He didn’t answer, though some part of him wanted to. Carter was so distressed… the loyal animal torn between what he had been commanded to do and what he wanted to do. All he wanted to do was help. All they wanted to do was help.

But Nino had no idea how to be helped.

He wanted to say something… as Adrien tried to talk calmly and Marinette spoke softly he wanted to say something.

He thought maybe there was something building up in him, whether it was to scream at them to leave or to offer some kind of apology he wasn’t sure… but the second he shifted his weight he was aware again of the too long limbs, of the thick, suffocating fur. And what he might have said died in him, and a grating whine racked his body.

Adrien’s rambling nothings faltered, and Nino withered further into himself. He couldn’t stop the second whine, or the shake of the third, but he could still feel ashamed of it. Ashamed of all of it.

He shook in anger and in embarrassment in his tiny scrap of shelter, his shame mounting higher and higher as the others turned to whispering to themselves, to each other about him.

‘Stay away!’ Carter demanded again, Nino able to see his paws scrabble at the tile as he threatened to dart forward, growling again. ‘Stay back! Stay away!’

“Alya wait, I don’t know if this is a good idea-,” Adrien’s voice sounded again, but he was cut off by someone else, the third in the party speaking for the first time.

“No this is good for him. He needs this.”

‘Stay away! STOP!’ Carter threatened again, breaking his vindication once again and barking threateningly. Nino could only see very little of what was happening, Carters tense claws spread wide on the tile just in front of his hiding space. Beyond him now Nino could just see dark leggings, crouched on the floor a ways in front of them and slowly getting closer. He shook when he saw her hands bend, her red tinted hair falling softly into view as she ignored Carter’s threats, leaning down to look beneath the bed frame.

Nino felt himself make some strangled sound, like a cry or a shout or something else all broken and pieced together. He didn’t want her to look at him.

He didn’t want to see her flinch.

He recoiled physically when her sharp, hazel eyes came into view, looking right at him from behind her glasses. Her dark gradated curls framed her face, her expression as curious and as passive as it had been when they were introduced. They had spoken so briefly, but she had left a searing impression with the things she said. And just like then she refused to look away, that foreign intensity cutting into him.

“Alya you’re upsetting him,” Marinette’s voice suddenly warned, but Alya didn’t turn. Not even Carter, only a few feet away from her and threatening to bite if she even moved an inch didn’t faze her. She just kept watching him, a playful smile forming across her face.

“Hey, that’s not so bad. It looks natural so that’s good.” She looked away from his eyes to examine the rest of him, undeterred when he pressed into the wall in some desperate attempt to disappear.

“Alya-,” Marinette warned again, sounding tense, but Alya didn’t move, fighting a bigger smile now.

“It’s not easy to do,” she continued, “I used to be bad at it too, but if you wanted, I could teach you.”

Carter was still tense, but Nino wouldn’t tell him what he needed him to do. He couldn’t bite, he shouldn’t bark, but he wanted nothing more than to bark and bark. Because something was weird again.

The feeling hit them first, the fur along their backs stiffening and standing on edge. It was subtle, and almost impossible to notice, but something almost like static preceded a sudden shift ahead of them.

Alya looked Nino in the eyes when she did it, letting it happen quickly and effortlessly and in a single, fluid motion, just to prove a point. She couldn’t imagine what kind of grueling awful fight he must have put up before ending up like this. It was important for him to see it done right, she believed.

She was so attuned to the sensation that it was hard to even feel it sometimes. Her mother once compared shifting to putting on a cloak, once you were used to it. You could feel something glide over you and touch your skin, and then suddenly you were running. The transition was so quick there was nothing really separate enough to focus on, only the change in height and perspective the truly noticeable things to her.

As soon as it was done she settled onto the tile, spreading out a little so he could see her, letting her tails fan out behind her. The wolf was hyper-focused on her laying there, breathing heavily and scrabbling slightly forward but she didn’t run. The fox just made a show of stretching out her paws, clicking her claws on the tile and swishing her tails out in the air, both of them.

‘What is happening, why does this keep happening?’ Carter was suddenly audible, and Alya turned her attention away from Nino for the first time at the new voice. The poor Shepherd was losing his grip, whining uncontrollably now as he looked at her.

‘It’s okay Carter, this is all fine. Your boy is doing just fine.’

Carter jerked when the strange fox answered him, his head titling to the side in confusion. He huffed and puffed briefly for a moment, accusing her directly now that he knew it was an option.

‘What are you doing? Go away! Nino doesn’t want anybody right now! He said get out!’

‘I’m not leaving yet,’ Alya answered simply, ‘And if he wants me to leave he can tell me himself, right Nino?’ The kitsune turned back to him, laying her head down to peer more easily beneath the bed.

‘I… you…-,’ there was a pause. Both Carter and Alya looked down into the darkness, watching the pair of bright golden eyes as they swept uneasily over the two-tailed fox. ‘You…’

It was a fox, at least that’s what it looked like. Clearly before it had been a girl, but now it was a lithe red fox, the only truly unnatural thing about it being its strange tails. Both tails were fully formed and independent, though they tended to move harmoniously. She wasn’t one solid color of anything, her fur along her chest and the bottom of her muzzle a light cream color, the rest a mix of reds. A charm of some kind dangled on her chest, a necklace with a heavy opalescent stone swaying gently in place, ruffling the fur there. When he looked at it he felt something odd, like a distant, almost unplaceable ringing in his ears.

Without meaning to his ears swiveled atop his head, straining slightly to focus on the note it exuded. He pulled forward slightly, staring at it, but was only broken from it by the fox’s sharp muzzle suddenly dropping over it, glaring at him slightly.

‘My eyes are up here, thanks,’ she snickered, enjoying how the wolf drew back and seemed caught off guard. The second he was no longer looking at it the note vanished… and he blinked at her uncertainty.

‘Can you…?’ He trailed off, fighting between his urge to hide and this sudden… lifeline.

‘Hear you?’ She finished for him, and somehow, he could tell she was smiling. ‘Yes, and your dog too, now. I’m not as good with it as you are but, when I’m like this its easier. I can’t hear him all the time like you can, though I’m probably better than the others.’

‘What are you?’ Nino demanded bluntly, moving closer to the edge just slightly, a little at a time. Alya and Carter both scooted backwards, allowing him some space. ‘How did you do that? So easily?’

‘I’m a Kitsune,’ she answered. ‘I can’t say that I’m exactly like you, I’m not but, I am a shapeshifter like you. So is Adrien but, I’ve never seen him use it. He can’t do it all the time like us.’

Kitsune… the word echoed in his head. The textbook entry from class seemed to echo back to him, every instance feeling years apart. He’d been stuck like this for days now… the uncomfortable anxiety of the class suddenly so much better than this.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ he said, his ears pressing flat against his skull, a whine building in his throat. ‘I didn’t want to, I tried not to it just-,’

‘It’s okay Nino. It’s okay that this happened.’ When he shot his head up to glare at her she flexed her paws in a placating gesture that still came across. ‘I know it doesn’t feel that way I know it’s all messed up but it’s okay that it happened. You can go back and forth whenever you want. We’re not supposed to be one or the other.’ She titled her head and the fox peered at him intensely. ‘We’re supposed to be both.’

‘No I’m not!’ he suddenly barked at her, flinching at how heavy his teeth felt as they bared sharply without his intention, but he didn’t back down. The growl in his chest was so loud to him he could barely articulate the thought. ‘I was supposed to be me! I was always me! I am not an animal!’

Carter hurried to back off, and though they seemed so far outside of it he was aware of the fact that both Adrien and Marinette were on their feet. Alya, however, did not move.

‘Well what are you then?’ she spoke plainly, the creature completely still as it regarded him. ‘Human?’

The growl faltered, dying down as the fox refused to shift her gaze from him, looking him over pointedly again.

When he went quiet she seemed to relax, tension she had been trying to conceal slipping away.

When she spoke again her words were softer.

‘You aren’t. And you’re right, you’re not an animal either. You’re the same thing you were before.’

She didn’t wait to respond, instead turning her head to look at Carter. The dog was watching her anxiously, fidgeting in place as she talked to him.

‘Carter? Do you know?’

‘What?’ he asked, on his feet and shaking a little. ‘What? I don’t understand.’

The fox remained calm, retaining control of the situation.

‘Do you know what he is?’

‘Nino!’ He responded instantly, relief flooding through him and his tail starting to wag for the first time. He knew that one, he knew the answer! ‘He’s Nino!’

‘Yeah,’ she answered, her muzzle parting slightly in that foxy smile she had, turning back to look underneath the bed at the wolf who lay there. ‘He’s Nino. He was before, and he still is now and that’s not different.’

‘You don’t even know me…’ Nino muttered wretchedly, his heavy angled head resting on the ground again, getting quiet.

‘I don’t,’ she agreed, resting her head on the ground as well. ‘But I’m really looking forward to it.’

Though neither of them truly spoke aloud the words seemed to hang in the air around them, settling into him where he cowered… where he hid. As always it was too big, too much but… he looked at the strange fox.

Who did not cower. Who did not flinch.

‘Why aren’t you scared of me?’ he asked, the same question always ringing in his head, but he didn’t expect the fox to huff like she did, going so far as to even roll her eyes.

‘I hate to break it to you Nino, but you’re not all that scary.’ Her tails flicked mischievously as she backed up again. ‘You’re kind of baby cheeked and polite, and poofy and under a bed. Not exactly the stuff of nightmare.’

She grinned at him and pulled further away, drawing him closer and closer to the edge of the bed as he moved up into the space she allowed. The tip of his muzzle was now visible in the light, his eyes still that intense golden color as he watched her.

‘You’re making fun of me,’ he finally answered, incredulously. When she nodded in confirmation he huffed, a low growl of irritation making her laugh an odd chittering laugh.

He huffed as she jumped to her feet, seeming to enjoy getting a rise out of him. And he wanted to be angry, or annoyed or something else but…

They were just talking. He held onto it like a string in the dark, desperate not to tug too tight and separate it from the surface. It was something… normal, as close to normal as he could possibly get. And as ashamed as he might be he didn’t want to be alone with it again.

Even if he was a monster, so was she.

‘S-show me how you did it. Please. I can’t, I’ve tried.’ He crawled forward again, nervously moving a paw out into the open, trying not to look at it. He didn’t want them to see… but it was pointless. It’s not like they didn’t already know…

‘It’s not just one trick, you might not be able to do it right away but you don’t have to be freaked out about it. You’re gonna get it, okay? But you won’t be able to get a grip on it unless you’re more stable.’

‘How am I supposed to do that? Ms. B kept saying that she said just be calm but I can’t.’ He slid another paw out into the open, and after another moment’s hesitation he slowly started to crawl out, staying as small and as folded in on himself as possible. Alya backed off a little but Carter quickly ran to his side, hovering helplessly as the beast shook on its paws.

Nino stood there shamefully, unable to look at them all as he felt them staring. Adrien and Marinette were still standing by the open door, looking on tensely at the silent conversation they could not hear, simply having faith that Alya was saying something they couldn’t. The kitsune herself was sitting up straight, watching him.

‘How am I supposed to be calm with this?’ he asked, his shame eating at him. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘You’re just getting started Nino. Right now, you’re not okay. You’re not a wolf because somethings wrong with you, you shifted because you lost your grip. With shapeshifters its easy to get lost in between. You lost touch with you, not humanity. If you knew what you were and who you were you could be either form you wanted, at the drop of a hat. Or some spot in between, who knows.’ She raised a paw, gesturing loosely at his clothes that still lay discarded on the ground. ‘What you did, it probably hurt. It’s not supposed to be like that, it won’t be if you practice it. But… I’m sorry.’

She paused suddenly, the strange stone she wore swaying as she took a quick, shallow breath.

‘It’s not something you can do instantly, it’s not like a spell or a trick. It isn’t something you’ve got to… do,’ she struggled to explain, her front paws needing the ground slightly. But she looked him in the eyes regardless when he looked up to meet her. ‘It’s all built in, we’re both fluid, but that means if you start losing focus things can get more difficult to maintain. At least, that’s how it is for me. We’re not exactly the same, in fact we’re mostly different but…’ she paused again, huffing in irritation.

She took a deep breath, trying again, her tails swaying behind her.

‘You’re stuck. You said you’ve been trying but that’s cause you’re trying to escape something, and you can’t. This,’ and she nodded her head towards him, ‘isn’t something to run away from. So it starts with accepting that this, no matter how much it scares you, is part of it now. You can’t be Nino without it anymore and being on two legs doesn’t change that. No matter what you look like.’

… there wasn’t a response. He didn’t have one to give as he cowered in front of them all. He was exposed in this borrowed spot he hid in, flailing for that fleeting piece of string.

‘Nino?’

Carter leaned into his side, still shorter even when his boy was folded in on himself so tightly. He pressed all of his heat and all of his worry into his dense, layered fur and leapt up slightly to nudge his muzzle with his own, vying for his attention. ‘Please talk to me…’

‘… yeah? Buddy?’ Nino finally addressed him, feeling a pang of guilt when the Shepherd’s ears pricked up.

He stared at him with wide, dark eyes for a while, open and honest in the way only he was capable of.

‘I don’t mind it when you’re like this.’

He let his tail wag slowly, keeping his attention and hoping that it helped. The tall, dark beast stared back at him, and he could feel him breathing deeply.

‘I know buddy.’

‘We were waiting,’ Carter continued, looking briefly towards Alya before looking back to his boy. ‘We were waiting for it to be okay. You said that, maybe this wasn’t okay, but she says that it is. She said its supposed to happen. So as long as you are still Nino, that’s okay then right?’

The dog stared at him intently, desperately trying to understand and hoping he was right. So much of what was said was so confusing to him, but after all the talking was done he kept thinking that he must be right. That he must have been right the whole time.

‘I-…,’ Nino hesitated, and after a moment he forced himself to move, though he tried hard to avoid it. He copied Carter’s gesture, nudging him awkwardly. Carter’s tail wagged harder in response.

He couldn’t help the sigh, depending on Carter’s weight to focus him. ‘I don’t really feel like myself right now…’

‘… can I help?’

Nino looked at him, and for the first time in days, felt something vaguely on the edge of something warm. Something positive.

Something from before.

‘You’re already helping Carter… just stay with me please. I-… I’m trying to figure this out.’

‘She said she can help,’ Carter reminded him, his tail wagging steadily now, so relieved to be moving forward. He looked to Alya again excitedly and passed her to the others; the sweet-smelling girl and… the cat. But he allowed it, it was helping. As long as they were helping, then he’d let them stay. They were giving him something he couldn’t, and he was giving everything he had.

‘Yeah,’ Nino eventually answered, though he was less sure. He had to believe in something though… he didn’t want to be a coward. He didn’t want to hide… he looked back to the fox and stared at her enviously, knowing she wasn’t ashamed in the slightest.

She was something else, just like all of them, but they weren’t hiding. She wasn’t hiding, and she slipped over just like he did, just as fast and as completely. There was no hesitation for her, nothing to be scared of… she knew exactly what she was. She wasn’t lost at all…

‘You’re saying… that it’s because I’m scared that it happened? Scared of myself?’

Alya locked eyes with him unflinchingly, but this time, he didn’t look away.

‘Something like that, yeah. It’s part of it. The more scared of yourself you got the less like you you felt. I bet that all kept wearing down, until you lost track of yourself entirely.’ She tilted her head slightly. ‘Right?’

‘Something like that…’ he agreed.

‘I know it must sound like nothing to you but… it’s the truest way I can put it. The shifting itself is easy, your body can do it naturally, like jumping or stretching or breathing. All it would take eventually is the smallest intention and you could slip right into it, because it’s just something you do. It’s part of you. But if you don’t have something concrete to build around, you’ll be too at mercy to your state of mind to control yourself. You’d flicker back and forth and part way and back like a light switch. And eventually you’d just fizz out.’ She put a paw on the ruined remains of his shirt. ‘And get stuck.’

For the first time since she had shifted, she approached him. She made sure to do it slowly, every step measured and gentle as she did it, continuing to talk.

‘You are your own landmark. Whether I’m in this form or my other one or anything else the only thing that is always true is that I’m always Alya. Shapeshifters have to be completely sure of who they are, because if we are then our appearance doesn’t matter.’

The kitsune stopped when she was only two feet away from him. He numbly found himself trying to recall if he had ever seen a red fox that big, but she still felt tiny to him, smaller still than Carter and craning to look up at him. When she was this close… he couldn’t help but notice the little spot of dark red fur above one eye, perfectly mimicking her beauty mark.

His tail moved slightly, having slowly drawn out from underneath him and starting to sway just a little at the observation. As soon as he noticed he tried to stop it but found with a wave of embarrassment that he wasn’t sure how. It was funny though, if anything could be right now.

He wondered if he had anything that stayed the same… even now.

‘Thanks Mufasa…’ he mumbled after a moment, and his tail swished a little more when she really turned her head at that one.

He wasn’t really sure what expression he managed but he couldn’t help the huff that was almost like a weak spirited chuckle, or some approximation. ‘Remember who you are… you know, like the Lion King?’

He barked out an odd weary sound that he knew was as close to a laugh as he could get, enjoying despite everything the baffled expression he knew he would get. He clung to his stupid joke like he had before… days ago in the classroom when he was trying his best. This one might not have landed but, it was for him more than anything, and he held on to the spirit it gave him.

‘You’ll have to explain that one, I guess,’ she relented after a moment, and though she said nothing of it, she enjoyed her own wash of relief. Nino was still just barely shaking, being held up by the weight of his dog but… he was familiar. Back to that great, unimaginable effort. Just doing his best to survive.

Nino felt… frayed, still split apart and scattered but… it was something just this side of hopeless. He had been unraveled but he was gripping some of the strings, dragging them towards him and fumbling them in the dark. He moved a paw and did what he could not to ignore the feeling of the pads against the tile but… but to at least not flinch. To not run away.

He forced himself to look up, looking down the dusty cluttered class room and towards two others… two others who came.

Adrien met his eyes immediately, the boy pulling up straight and watching him with that exact same concern as he had in the lunch room. It was powerful, and empathetic and more than he had earned, more of a testament to him as a person then anything. Caring enough about the new kid enough to come… and to bring help.

He hadn’t meant to shut them out, Marinette ringing the edges of her dress in her hands as she suffered through the ordeal. It was just that… he had been far away. And Alya knew somehow how to come and meet him there. But that didn’t mean the others hadn’t gone so far too…

He couldn’t forget that.

‘Hey…’ he said, though he understood that he couldn’t hear him. Alya turned to look back at them as well, moving aside in surprise when Nino suddenly stepped passed her.

Carter hurried to shadow him, still diligently supporting him as Nino took a few shaky steps forward, focusing on meeting them halfway.

He nearly stumbled but Carter held him, coaching him quietly on which foot to move next, helping him adjust to the movement without having to be asked. Nino was embarrassed to have to look down at his feet but… he was passed that now. He didn’t have it in him to be ashamed of it, he just did his best to get there.

When he looked up again Adrien was crouching on one knee, Marinette copying him quickly and staring at him intensely. Her eyes were wide and watching… and he noticed, dully, that her eyes were wet.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whined, looking back at her. Like everything, he didn’t fully understand her… but he had seen enough to realize that she must have been there with him. Aware on at least some level what he was feeling. So, he hoped she could tell now that he was sorry for that.

She smiled weakly, and his tail answered with that same, subdued sway.

He looked back to Adrien and saw that he was offering a smile too, but behind his eyes there was a whirlwind he couldn’t gauge. “Hey man,” the boy offered, Nino’s ears flicking at the actual sound of it since so much had essentially been said silently. Adrien laughed a little, the sound breathless. “It’s really good to see you. I- uh… I’ve been saving you a seat.”

Carter looked between Nino and the cat a little warily but knew better than to make a fuss of it now. Despite whatever the Shepherd might believe…

He owed him.

‘Thank you,’ Nino offered back, trying to make some kind of soft sound so Adrien would at least know he had been answered. When the boy smiled he knew that the message had made it across, and he resolved that when he got things pulled back together, that he was going to do something to make it up to him. To all of them, for their kindness towards someone they barely even knew.

When he got it back.

When…

He held on to that too.

#tmitr #the monster in the room #spooky!ml au #werewolf #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #kitsune #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #chapter 11 #part 11 #tlp writes #thelastpilot writes #supernatural au #carter the dog #caline bustier #miraculous ladybug #ml #my fics

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katwriting · 5 years

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Fic: Sound of your Heart

celebrity AU // chapter 3

In which Alec suffers, and Magnus has a ball about it. Oh, and there’s a first date too.

word count: 5.4k (13.1k total) // Read on AO3 (or continue reading below)

Magnus was woken by the persistent beeping of his alarm, and the sound of raindrops splattering against his window. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back and threw an arm across his eyes. It was far too early for the world to require him being a functioning member of society.

He was just about to drift off to sleep, when there was the familiar sound of rustling blankets. Magnus felt the mattress dip and a warm body settle next to his own – followed by the sharp sting of claws digging into his stomach.

Magnus' eyes shot open as he yelped in pain. "Chairman! I told you to stop doing that!"

He grabbed Chairman and carefully set him down next to him on the duvet, trying to send him his strictest glare. When Chairman just huffed and curled up next to him, Magnus shrugged and snuggled into his cat's silky gray fur. He would be a strict cat dad some other time.

Instead of scolding his cat, Magnus dared to throw another glance out the bedroom window. The clouds were a depressing gray and didn't seem like clearing up anytime soon.

Magnus ran his fingers through Chairman's fur. "You don't feel like getting out of the house, do you?"

The cat's purrs only grew louder.

Magnus sighed again and pulled the Chairman closer to his chest. "Me neither, dear."

They stayed like that for a little while, Magnus burrowed in his pillows and duvet, the Chairman snuggled up against his chest. Awful weather aside, Magnus felt at peace. It had been a few weeks since the end of his tour and aside from writing songs and meeting with his team here and there, life had been surprisingly quiet. Magnus had adored being on tour – playing at a different city every night, soaking up the excitement from the audience, listening to them his songs – but he never felt as much at peace as in his own Brooklyn apartment on a rainy day. He didn't like rain, actually he resented it, but there was just something about enjoying a day in while the rest of New York had to face the floods that put Magnus at ease.

He was just about to doze off again when the comfortable silence in his bedroom was interrupted by his phone beeping. Grumbling something unrecognizable, he reached over and grabbed it, hissing when the bright screen hurt his eyes. It was just far too early for people to expect him to be a functioning member of society yet.

However, when he checked the name and message that had come in, his mood brightened and he quickly opened the message.

Got almost run over by a bike this morning and by the time I was at work my clothes were drenched. I hate rainy days.

Magnus chuckled, starting to type out a reply. He was pretty sure it would earn him a very snarky reply, but it was worth the trouble.

About ten days had passed since Magnus had run into Alec at the coffee shop again and they had exchanged numbers. For his initial text to Alec, Magnus had gone all out – and regretted it the second he had hit sent. But thankfully Alec's humor wasn't limited to conversations happening in person and he had replied with just the same amount of wit, and the same sarcasm that had intrigued Magnus about him in the first place. They had been texting back and forth since then, and talking to Alec had become an unexpected, but not at all unpleasant, new part of Magnus' daily life.

They didn't talk every day, but sent each other messages here and there. In doing so, Magnus had learned a lot about Alec. Not just that his sister's wedding drove him crazy or that he was dangerously close to killing Aldertree from finance on sight the next time he saw him. But also what kind of music he was currently listening to or that he'd had an aversion to peanut butter for as long as he could remember. Magnus now knew that Alec didn't quite get the hype around Marvel movies or superheroes in general. He'd practiced archery as a kid, had even won a few competitions. But thanks to his job and just life in general getting the best of him, he had not been to an archery range in quite some time.

And most importantly, he absolutely, entirely, with every fibre of his being despised rainy days.

It's like the universe is planning for me to have a shitty day and wants me to KNOW it does.

Magnus could almost hear Alec grumble the words while he was probably sitting in his office, clad in a semi-dry suit and loaded with misery.

Don't be dramatic. It's not that bad.

No. It's worse.

Magnus chuckled, then dropped his phone onto the mattress to look at his cat, who had left his position curled up next to Magnus to pad over to the other side of the bed where he could look out of the window. Chairman didn't look like he approved of the rain either – he almost looked like he was frowning.

Still grinning, Magnus grabbed his phone, snapped a picture and sent it to Alec.

I think you have an ally in your aversion against rainy days, Alexander.

Alec's reply took mere seconds.

FINALLY someone who understands me. Also, nobody calls me Alexander.

You better get used to it, then.

With a soft laugh, he put his phone onto his nightstand, then stretched one more time before pushing the covers off his body and getting out of bed.

+++

"All I'm saying is that this could be a really nice opportunity for you to get back into the game after your break."

"And all I'm saying is that I'll think about it. That's all I can promise at the moment."

Sighing, Magnus grabbed his coffee and took a sip. He peered over the rim of his mug at Ragnor, who was sitting on a chair next to him and going through a folder that seemed to be about to burst.

"You know you could just use a computer, right? It would make the whole searching for that thing you scribbled onto a post it note you borrowed from an assistant and left somewhere in a conference room three floors upstairs a week ago thing a little easier," Magnus quipped, his lips already pulling into a smile. Ragnor was very much responsible for Magnus' success, but he was also a dear friend and just so easy to tease.

But before Ragnor could come up with an undoubtedly sarcastic reply, the glass door to his office opened and Catarina walked in, carrying a large cardboard box.

Taking in Magnus' smirk and her husband's exasperated features, she frowned. "What did I miss?"

"We're sending Magnus back to that lousy coffee shop he used to work at if he keeps getting on my nerves any longer," Ragnor grumbled, barely looking up from his notes.

Anybody else would have been intimidated by his behavior, but Magnus wasn't fooled. He had long accepted that Ragnor was just a natural grump and comments like that weren't to be taken seriously. Except if he was really pissed, but since Magnus' career had taken off, the number of times that Ragnor was genuinely angry at Magnus had declined significantly. Mostly because Magnus had actually started to listen to him. From time to time. When the mood struck.

Luckily Magnus knew that Ragnor would never take his antics personally. He had been an important mentor for Magnus since day one (and would not miss a single chance to tease him about that), but they both knew that underneath all their bickering lay a deep mutual respect and understanding for each other. It was part of what had made their both their working relationship and their friendship so strong since the beginning. The same applied to Catarina, even though Magnus and Ragnor's tendency to roast each other had tested her nerves in the past more often than not.

Almost as if she had heard Magnus' thoughts, Catarina took another stern look at them and let out a sigh. She took a seat next to Magnus on the couch and reached for his hand, her thumb mindlessly grazing over his skin as she took in Ragnor's discontent and Magnus' cheeky smirk.

"Magnus", she said, her voice infinitely kind and just a tiny bit scolding, "what did you do now?"

Magnus huffed out a laugh. "I didn't do anything. I just told your dear husband that I'm not really in the mood for a TV show appearance right now."

"More like that you're not in the mood for any TV shows anytime soon."

"It's not like I'm supposed to do any TV shows anytime soon," Magnus shot back. "A three months break from the public eye. That's what we agreed on."

Ragnor just opened his mouth to reply when Catarina cut in. "It is. And you're getting that time off, don't worry. But three months away from the public eye doesn't mean three months off work." She nodded towards the cardboard box she had brought with her. "Your new autograph photos came in and there's a lot of new fan mail too. Time to get to work, love."

Magnus flashed a smile at Ragnor. "I'm so sorry, dear friend, I believe we'll have to postpone this conversation. Not that I mind."

He then turned back towards Catarina. "Do you need me to start signing now?"

She shook her head. "Just make sure they are ready by the end of the week."

Magnus nodded. "Consider it done."

Signing some of the new autograph cards took a few hours that Magnus spent tucked away in a quiet meeting room in the Downworld Records headquarters. He managed to get a few hundred done and would have been faster if his friends weren't so terribly chatty. Catarina stopped by with coffee sometime in the afternoon, Elias from the reception desk paid him a visit and even Ragnor came to say hi at some point. Even Alec kept Magnus company, only through texts, but still.

Magnus kept signing until well into the afternoon, when his eyes were sore and his writs hurt. When he'd reached the point where he couldn't stand to look at his own face anymore, he decided to call it a day. He put the signed autograph cards back into the cardboard box, took the fan letters with him and made his way to the ground floor.

+++

Back at his apartment, Magnus fixed himself a glass of wine before sitting down on his living room carpet and taking out the letters Catarina had given to him. Reading fanmail was something he had always preferred to do in the privacy of his apartment. There was just something about these letters people sent him, something so personal that Magnus felt like taking his time was the only way to treat them right. He didn't read everything, of course. There was just too much coming in. But he tried. Lots of them were about how people felt inspired by Magnus, how he had inspired them to go after their dreams. Those always hit close to home, especially since it hadn't been so long ago that Magnus had been a struggling singer with a big dream himself. The least he could do, he felt, was give those people's words at least a fraction of the time and attention they had put into writing them.

A little while into reading the letters, Chairman joined Magnus in the living room and with his cat resting in his lap and his fans' moving stories to go through, the rest of the afternoon flew by. Magnus didn't even notice how much time had passed until, once again, the persistent ringtone of his phone drew him out of a particularly inspiring letter.

Without looking, he picked up, too busy with swallowing past the lump in his throat that the fans' story had left behind to check the caller ID. "Hello?", he said, voice slightly pressed. Emotional letters always got him.

"I swear to everything that is holy, I will kill Aldertree and not even try to make it look like an accident."

Magnus chuckled. "Hello to you too, Alexander."

"Oh, sorry. Yeah. Hi." Magnus heard some traffic noise in the background, and Alec cursing under his breath. "Anyway, I'm going to kill him."

Putting the letter aside, Magnus shooed the Chairman of his lap so he could sit up a little. "And why is that?"

"As if I would need a specific reason at this point," Alec scoffed before there was loud honking in the background and Magnus could hear him curse again, louder this time. "Great, now I stepped into a puddle too. I just got this suit dry cleaned, dammit! "

"Today is really not your day, huh?" Magnus said sympathetically, then took another sip of his wine.

Alec let out a sigh. "Yeah. You could say that."

"So. Aldertree?"

"I don't even know why I get angry about him at this point anymore. He's been sabotaging my work ever since I got promoted. I just try to ignore him most of the time, but he manages to get on my nerves every damn time. I just can't stand him, yet I can't do anything about it since I'm not running the company yet and he knows it. It's just so…frustrating."

A wave of sympathy rolled through Magnus. Before his career had taken off, and even now that he was where he always wanted to be, he'd had to deal with plenty of people who fit to that description. At least until he had learned which people were here to stay and which ones were only around as long as his fame was.

"Look, Alexander-"

Alec didn't let him finish. Or even properly start, for that matter. "You know what's fun?"

"I assume you're going to tell me in a second."

"Ha. Well, yeah. Uh…what's fun is that I didn't even call you because of Aldertree, yet ended up ranting to you about him anyways."

Magnus huffed out a laugh. "I don't blame you. Awful people do tend to have that effect on us. Besides, I enjoy talking to you."

"Yeah, me too. The talking, I mean. I uh…I like that, too. That was kind of the point why I called in the first place."

"To talk to me?"

"No. Well, yeah, but also because I wanted to ask something."

Magnus chuckled. "I'm all ears."

"Look…I really enjoyed texting with you these past two weeks or so and I was kind of wondering if we uh…could hang out for real at some point?"

"Hang out? May I remind you, Alexander, that I don't just hang out with people." He swirled the wine in his glass. "But if this is your adorably dorky way of asking me out, please, go ahead."

Alec let out a slightly nervous laugh. "Yeah. That's kind of it. So, will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Stop being a tease, mostly. Also, go out on date with me?"

Magnus smiled and nodded, then remembered that Alec wouldn't exactly be able to hear that reaction. "I'd love to."

"Yeah?" Alec sounded genuinely surprised, like he hadn't expected Magnus' answer. "I mean, great! How does this Friday sound?"

Magnus smiled. "Friday sounds great. See you then?"

The relief in Alec's tone was impossible to miss. Magnus felt his heartbeat quicken at the realization. "Yeah. I'll see you then."

"Great! And Alexander?"

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor and try not to kill Aldertree until then. I'm all for handcuffs, but I'd hate for our first date to be in prison."

Alec's gleeful laugh rung in Magnus' ears long after they had ended their call.

+++

"Magnus, hey!"

Looking up from his phone, Magnus turned around just to see Alec rushing towards him. "I'm sorry I'm late," Alec huffed, slightly out of breath and cheeks a little flushed. "I got held up at work by you know who and then came here as fast as I could."

Magnus smiled reassuringly, noting with a pleased feeling that Alec's gaze was raking up and down his attire. So the necklaces and open buttons had been a good idea after all.

"No problem, I just got here myself," he said, turning around towards the building that had definitely seen better days, but otherwise didn't give anything away about what awaited them behind the door. "So, Alexander. What exactly are we doing here?"

Alec grinned. "Let me guess – you googled the place, came up with nothing and it's been bugging you all week. Am I right?"

Magnus pursed his lips and raised a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "I may or may not have been a little curious. Now, are you just going to keep making fun of me or are you actually going to tell me what we're doing tonight?"

Alec chuckled. "Impatient as always, I see." The chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh when Magnus just raised his eyebrows at him.

"Fine, let's stop keeping you in the dark. I actually didn't know this place existed until my sister told me about it about a week ago, and it's a bit of a long story, so why don't you just see for yourself?"

To Magnus' (not at all unpleasant) surprise, Alec underlined those words by gently putting a hand on Magnus' back and nudging him towards the entrance. And if Alec's hand rested there for just a little longer than strictly necessary, Magnus wasn't one to complain.

Magnus had gotten to know Alec a little better through their continuous texting over the past couple of days, and it didn't take even half an hour into their date for him to learn another three new things about him: He had a mediocre taste in style, a great taste in music and an excellent taste when it came to picking locations for a first date.

The initially dull looking building had turned out to be a cozy little art gallery that focused on all kinds of weird exhibits. Currently, they were showing an exhibit about the absolute worst the 80s and 90s had to offer in terms of music – also known as Magnus' secret guilty pleasure kind of era.

"I have to admit, Alexander, you do know how to pick an unexpected first date location," Magnus mused as he slowly walked through the exhibits' Pop and Rock of the 90s section after strolling through other sections for a while.

Alec, who had been doing a very poor job at hiding the fact that he'd been a little nervous about what Magnus might say about his first date idea, visibly relaxed. "You like it, then?"

Magnus beamed. "An exhibit about all the awful 90s music you will never hear me admit out loud I still love? I love this.

"Good, that makes one of us. Because I'm starting to wonder what on earth you find so fascinating about the 80s."

They had made it into a part of the exhibit where visitors got to witness some of the best of the 80s and 90s on their own. All they had to do was put on a pair of headphones and choose a song on one of the tablets that were mounted to the wall.

Magnus, who had already been busy picking up a pair of headphones, halted. He raised an eyebrow at Alec. "I'll have you know that the 80s included musical legends such as Queen, Bon Jovi or Whitney Houston, Alexander."

"Yeah, I know that," Alec deadpanned, his tone being nowhere near serious. "I'm talking about the Cyndi Lauper and Wham! songs in here." He sounded like mentioning those artists alone personally offended him.

Magnus shrugged. "Collateral damage. There are so many better pieces to pick from. May I?", he asked, holding up the pair of headphones to Alec.

When Alec nodded, he slipped them over his ears and grabbed another pair for himself. Once they were both all set, Magnus turned towards the vast music selection and picked a song for the both of them.

As soon as the song started playing, Magnus couldn't help himself. He closed his eyes just as his body almost automatically started moving in tune with the music. Magnus had always had a hard time just sitting still when listening to a good song, especially when it was one of his personal favorites.

He kept going until a gentle tap on his shoulder dragged him out of the last bit of the song, just as the singer's voice started to fade off. When he opened his eyes, he realized that Alec had been watching him, leaning against the wall, headphones long forgotten and a gentle smirk on his lips.

"Don't You Forget About Me? Really, Magnus?"

Magnus shrugged. "That is 80s music as well, Alec. Not so bad after all, is it?"

Alec chuckled. "You sure know how to sell it."

Alec reached out and pulled the headphones off Magnus' head, setting them back onto the hook where they'd taken them from. "So what other not-so guilty musical pleasures are you hiding?"

Magnus laughed. "My dear Alexander, that is a story for a second date."

It took them another while to finish their stroll through the gallery. Most of it was due to Magnus, who could talk about music for hours and sure made use of that trait during their date. But Alec didn't seem to mind, he patiently listened to Magnus' stories and threw in an anecdote of his own here and there, proving that it hadn't been just talk when he'd said he had a bit of an interest in music as well.

After they had made it to the end, Alec went to retrieve their coats and met Magnus in the entrance hall. "So? Did you like the exhibit?

Magnus beamed at him as he reached for his jacket, his fingers brushing against Alec's as he took it. "I told you already, I loved this. Your lack of appreciation for guilty pleasure music isn't going to change that."

Alec smiled back at him, and this time it reached his eyes, too. He looked…hopeful, Magnus thought. "Great. I was actually kind of nervous since you know, first date usually means drinks or a movie or whatever. But I figured since you mentioned you're into 80s and 90s music, this might be up your alley."

"Definitely. Thanks for bringing me here. However, now that you mention it," Magnus said, glancing at his watch, "drinks don't sound so bad right now."

Alec grinned. "I was hoping you would say that. Come on, I know a place."

Alec led them to a bar not far from the gallery. Thanks to it being a Friday night, The Hunter's Moon was packed, but they managed to secure themselves a small table tucked away in the corner. The place wasn't big, yet buzzing with energy and excitement, the latter being due to the stage about 30 feet away from Alec and Magnus' table. For now, it was empty, but a microphone and guitar seemed just to be waiting for someone to start playing.

When Magnus asked Alec about the empty stage, Alec just smirked and muttered something about patience. "But you'll like it, promise."

He ended up being right. Alec had just taken off towards the bar to get their first round of drinks when a young woman walked on stage, waved to the audience and started tuning the guitar. There was a moment of excited silence before she started playing a rendition of James Bay's "Hold Back The River", singing along in a soft voice that slowly grew more powerful as the song went on. Magnus was fascinated immediately, so much that he almost didn't notice Alec had gotten back from the bar, drinks in hand.

Alec chuckled as he pushed Magnus' drink into his direction, their fingers brushing together briefly. "I assume you like this place?"

The woman had reached the first chorus and while her voice had been soft and melodic, she switched gears to a much more powerful tone as the song went on.

"Are you kidding? I could listen to her all day", Magnus said and laughed. "I haven't been to an open mic night in forever, but I'm just realizing what I've been missing out on."

Alec nodded and smiled. "This is one of my favorite places. It's a bit of a commute from my apartment, but the music makes it all worth it. I admire these people, actually. It takes courage to just walk up onto that stage and sing your heart out, not knowing if people are going to like it or not."

"That it does", Magnus mused, before realizing the words had actually slipped out. "I mean, I can imagine that it does. These people must put their heart and soul into these performances," he added quickly, just as the woman on stage put all her energy into the final few lines of the song.

Surveying Alec's expression carefully, Magnus kept an eye out for any signs that he had managed to blow his own cover. When Alec didn't show any signs of suspicion, Magnus breathed out and turned back towards the stage and grabbed his drink. Relieved, he raised his glass towards Alec. "Anyway. To us. Thanks for bringing me here, Alec."

Alec's gaze was warm when he looked at Magnus. "It's my absolute pleasure."

Magnus' martini clinked against Alec's beer bottle, and the sound made Magnus oddly hopeful. Things had been going well so far. Alec had been attentive and funny all night and there hadn't been a single moment of awkward silence. Even better – Magnus was having a genuinely good time. He didn't quite trust the warm, comfortable feeling in his stomach just yet, but it seemed like they were ringing in a rather special kind of night.

And judging from Alec's soft smile and the warm expression in his eyes whenever he caught Magnus looking at him, Magnus wasn't the only one feeling that way.

+++

"…and that's why I am pretty sure that next time I go to Peru, the people at airport security won't be as tolerant as they were last time."

Magnus finished his little story with a smirk and a flourish and his free hand. The other one had been tucked into Alec's for the past couple of minutes. Alec had grabbed it to pull Magnus aside and out of the way of an approaching group of pedestrians. He hadn't made any attempts at letting go since, and Magnus was going to be damned if he was going to make him do so.

Magnus almost found it odd how well Alec and him got along even though it was only their first date. But then again, he couldn't bring himself to care. Their evening had gone way too well for that. Throughout the night, Magnus had realized that all the funny texts and spontaneous phone calls in the world didn't even come close to spending time with Alec in person. Magnus had had a good feeling with Alec since they had first run into each other at the coffee shop, but the longer the evening went on, the more Magnus realized that his gut feeling about Alec had been right.

Talking to Alec, laughing with him, was easy, effortless. Alec's gaze was warm, his laugh contagious. He was still a lot more on the quiet side than Magnus, but the longer their date had gone on the more Alec had opened up. He'd stood a little closer, let his gaze rest on Magnus a little longer, nudged him here and there to underline his point while telling a story, or gently brushed his fingers against Magnus' as he reached for his drink. They had been small gestures, easy to miss, but Magnus had noticed anyway.

His own skeptical mind had blamed it on the cozy bar and the music in the background at first, but even now as they were strolling through the streets, Magnus felt as comfortable with Alec as he had been the entire night. That feeling had only grown stronger when Magnus' weird story from Peru, sometimes a bit of a dealbreaker on any first date, had made Alec only laugh with no signs of him being weirded out.

"You got yourself banned from an entire country. Why am I not surprised."

"What can I say, Alexander – I am a man of many talents."

He took another few steps on the sidewalk, then almost tripped over his own feet while trying to dodge a lamppost. It was only thanks to Alec's quick thinking and even quicker reflexes that Magnus didn't end up falling flat on his butt in the middle of the street.

Alec chuckled. "I suppose almost breaking your nose because you walked into a lamppost is one of those?"

"Fine, it wasn't one of my best moments."

"It's okay. It was actually pretty adorable."

"Adorable, huh?"

"Yeah," Alec mumbled, his hand brushing against Magnus' once again.

This time, Magnus didn’t think twice. In one swift move, he closed his own hand around Alec's, holding it in a light grasp, just tight enough to feel connected but still light enough for Alec to pull away if he so desired.

There was a pause, a beat of silence. Magnus breathed in, was about to pull his hand back, when the grip of Alec's hand suddenly tightened and he interlaced their fingers.

Magnus breathed out, his shoulders relaxing. He looked over to Alec, and caught him looking right back.

As their eyes caught, Alec's gaze drifted to their interlaced fingers and Magnus saw a smirk pulling at his lips. Alec bit his lip, then looked back up at Magnus. "Okay?"

Magnus let out a soft laugh, just barely audible, barely more than a breath. He returned Alec's smirk, his gaze reassuring. "Absolutely."

They kept walking for another while, for longer than it would have been strictly necessary to get to the next subway stop. Some of the time they spent talking, but most of it in comfortable silence. Magnus didn't mind either – he was more than okay with their little detours, as they meant he didn't have to say goodbye to Alec just yet.

Eventually though, they made it to the subway stop and came to a halt, turning towards each other. Magnus felt an odd sense of déjà-vu, similar to the last time they had seen each other and had been forced to say goodbye too early.

Judging from Alec's smirk, he'd had the same thought. "I guess this is where we part ways, again?"

Magnus chuckled. "I guess so."

Alec reached out for his other hand, his fingers softly grazing over Magnus' skin. "I had a really good time tonight."

Magnus squeezed Alec's hand gently. "So did I. Care for a second date sometime soon?"

Alec's gaze was as warm as the smiles he'd sent Magnus throughout the evening. "I'd love that."

Magnus beamed at Alec. He had just a couple of minutes left until he needed to catch his train, but he just couldn't bring himself to head off just now. The night had been too special. Instead, he stepped closer to Alec, closing almost all of the distance between them.

"Alright, Alexander," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll see you soon then."

He took another half step closer and felt Alec's breath brush against his face. Pausing one more second, he waited if Alec would pull away. But just like earlier, when he had reached out for his hand, Alec didn't. So Magnus took one more half step to close the distance between them and dropped a kiss on the corner of Alec's mouth – just shy of his lips.

Squeezing his hands one more time, Magnus slowly backed away. He was just about to turn towards the subway station and head home when Alec's voice made him turn around once again.

"Magnus?"

"Yeah?"

"You call that a goodbye kiss?"

A sly smirk pulled on Magnus' lips, matching the one on Alec's face. "My, my Alexander. How brazen you are," Magnus mumbled. He stepped closer to Alec again and rested one hand on Alec's waist, the other on his face before leaning in again – for a proper kiss this time.

#malec #malec fic #malec fanfiction #magnus bane #alec lightwood #celebrity au #katwriting

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douxreviews · 5 years

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Cloak and Dagger - ‘Blue Note’ Review

"Make them ride the highs and lows with us until we all come out the other side, changed."

Dangit show, please don't make me feel bad for Lia. I refuse to feel bad for Lia.

OK, I feel a little bad for Lia.

This is a story about ascension.

They may have mentioned it a time or two. 'Power up.' 'Get to the next level.' 'Run the scale until you get to the top.' You know, the occasional subtle hint.

In which case, it's probably germane to start the discussion with the title. Forgive me in advance if you're a proper student of Jazz as a form. I'm personally not, as you'll see in just a moment. I apologize for the grotesque oversimplification that follows.

A blue note, in jazz, is 'a minor interval where a major is expected. A note played at a slightly different pitch.' The upshot is that after running a musical scale, instead of playing the expected major finish to the scale you play a different note. A 'blue' note. Typically a variant of the expected major off by somewhere between a semitone and a quartertone.

That feels like an accurate and specific description of Andre's ascension into becoming a Loa, almost certainly intentionally. He's ascending and it's going to end up slightly darker and 'off.' It helps that Andre himself is specifically underlining the metaphor right from the very first scene of the episode. Ninety-six months before the current events, Andre and his band were about to play a show that was intended to make their name in the music world. Andre specifically refers to the LPs of the jazz greats in the bin at the record studio as 'the gods.' Further, he clearly states that it's his intention to become one of them through playing his performance. Through running the scale up to the blue note, he intends to become one of the gods. You just cannot state a thematic metaphor more directly than that.

Sadly for Andre, that's the night of his first migraine, which brings the show, and his career, crashing down around him. That's right, a good chunk of this week's episode is devoted to Andre's secret origin.

The timing for this background information isn't terrible, although it does feel a little bit like we're turning our wheels waiting for the big final confrontation. Fortunately they get away with it for a few different reasons. The primary one being the performance of Brooklyn McLinn as Andre. Despite the truly terrible things that we've seen Andre do, and the terrible things he continues to do in this episode, it's impossible not to feel for him during the scenes of his attempted suicide. That's not easy to do, as the scenes are solo and completely without dialogue. The only thing that doesn't really work about the flashback sequences, and it's a minor thing, is the way his migraines are timed to onset with his attempt to hit the blue note. There's an unpleasant aspect of 'you flew too close to the sun' about it that seems to almost be blaming Andre for his own migraines, as if they were caused by his own hubris. That struck an unpleasant note for me, no pun intended.

Another aspect of the structure that made the flashbacks not feel like they were just wasting time is that by devoting a little time to telling Andre's backstory they could simultaneously use that time to clear up a few extraneous plot threads before next week's finale. So Tandy and Mayhem track down Lia's body, while Ty goes to resolve that 'gangs want him dead' issue that's still lingering on the periphery.

I have to say, Ty's 'negotiation' techniques with the gang leaders were just wonderful. I honestly thought he'd let the one die when he threw him off the roof. Good on Ty for knowing how to use his powers to the best effect by this point, and for knowing that he can't really do anything about people buying drugs for themselves. So he focused on what he could, and now the gangs of New Orleans know better than to try to sell drugs which will be used in human trafficking. That was a good resolution to that thread. Obviously in a comic book show you can't have your characters magically 'fix' something as genuinely awful as human trafficking without coming across as crass. This was a good way to show Ty making a difference without crossing a line into something distasteful. Well judged.

Meanwhile, Tandy and Mayhem hash out whether extra-judicial murder is ever justified by the expedience of Tandy believing it is, then looking into the soul of someone who seems truly irredeemable and learning to see their humanity. Mayhem was a good foil for that particular character journey, and neither the character nor the journey outstayed its welcome.

Which brings me neatly back to the last reason that the structure of Andre's flashbacks didn't feel like a waste of time. They used our assumptions about how flashbacks work to pull an impressive rug-pull and have Andre of today's plot suddenly dovetail and interact with the Andre of seven-ish years ago's plot. Apparently, Andre of today sensed Lia being given back her hope and reached out into her despair space of seven years ago and stopped Tandy from giving her hope back to her.

Notice that the above paragraph, when written down starkly like that, sounds absolutely 100% bat-sh*t crazy and does not make a lick of logical sense. But in the episode it makes perfect aesthetic sense, and I've never seen a flashback structure used in that way before, which makes me love it. Who needs logic when you have visual poetry.

So, after giving us some backstory and cleaning up some side plots, the episode arrives at the only tangible thing that you can point to and say really 'happened' this week, if you're just looking at it in terms of pure plot progress. Andre has summoned all the girls he's 'infected' with despair to the sight of that fatal jazz performance and played the blue note, successfully 'leveling up' and getting through the locked door in his despair dimension. Cue next week's climactic battle.

It shouldn't all hang together and feel like one complete piece, but it does without question, and it's all down to the expert application of that ascension theme we started this discussion with. If I was going to compare the plot structure to music, I would call it jazz. Really, good jazz.

Bits and Pieces:

-- Very cool combination trick of Tandy throwing the light knife into Ty who teleported to where it needed to be released. Too bad it was just a little too late.

-- Andre's veve lines lighting up looked a lot like he was finding cell reception.

-- Nice little seed early on of showing Melissa Bowen's records in Andre's record store of despair.

-- I actually believed that Tandy was trying to protect Loa from waking up in an ambulance with strange men after what she'd been through. That was a clever ruse.

-- I feel like we were denied a very interesting conversation of Ty finding out that Evita got god-married.

-- Ty teleporting does not interrupt his cell reception or drop any call he happens to be on at the time. That's suspiciously dependable cell service.

-- I suspect that they showed Adina burning the bloody newspapers both as a way for Ty to understand that she'd murdered Connors and to tell the viewers, 'No, we're not faking you out, she totally killed him for real.'

-- Will Brigid get a turn at being in control of her hybrid body after the crisis is over?

-- It was a little awkward having people suddenly vanishing as a plot point what with the snap still being theoretically a thing. I'm not sure where exactly this season of Cloak & Dagger fits in relation to Infinity War, but it definitely made me second guess if that was related to what happened.

-- Tandy's plan of borrowing younger-Lia's hope in the form of sheet music and giving it to older Lia in order to give her hope back was a really elegant plan. On most shows that would have worked.

-- “Luke Cage in Harlem rumble” by Karen Page. That entire scene with Solomon is why representation is so important. Luke Cage is a hero that looks like him and because of that he inspires him to try to be better. That. That's why representation matters. Every kid deserves to see themselves in their heroes.

-- When Ty or Tandy touch someone they go into that person's 'realm' for lack of a better world. When Andre touches someone he pulls them into his. That feels like an important distinction.

Quotes:

Tandy: "Tyrone, if you ask me about my feelings one more time I’m seriously gonna kill you."

Tandy: "Brigid was a better liar." Mayhem: "Yeah, well that’s about all she was better at."

Soloman: "Sometimes you can’t fix things. Some things are just broke."

Ty: "Which one is she?" Tandy: "Both of them."

Tandy: "When all hope is gone, this is what’s left."

Tandy: "You can’t kill her. An hour ago you practically begged me not to hurt her." Mayhem: "An hour ago she had something I wanted."

A solid penultimate episode that got all of the necessary setup in place for what looks like to be an explosive finale.

Three out of four abandoned trumpets

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#Cloak and Dagger #Tandy Bowen #Tyrone Johnson #Marvel #MCU #Cloak and Dagger Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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strangebedfellows-blog · 5 years

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Miscellaneous and chill little establishing headcanon dump for some of my l.oz people, because they’re delightful and since I’ve never actually interacted with this fandom I’m not sure what’s commonly accepted and what’s coming purely out of my own head, so here’s some kind of framework. Ones involving other characters or the world at large are just there to give myself context, and obviously nobody else is beholden to ‘em.

Also because I’m too lazy to get to bio pages left and they deserve something.

Cool edit: hey personals, don’t interact with this post. Don’t like it, definitely don’t fucking reblog it. Oh my god. Basic etiquette. It’s not tagged with their general tags for a reason.

VAATI

It’s indulgent of me, but for the record, I like to think he won the swordfighting competition largely of his own merit. I like to think he’s smart enough to know he could have just...magic’d his way past it altogether if he wanted, but it sounds like he actually competed.

I HAVE MORE BUT I’M JUST GOING TO EDIT THEM IN SOMETIME LATER WHEN I REBLOG THIS I’m typing at like four in the morning why must I dedicate this time to angry wind maus

ZANT

Comin’ in out of the gate: it’s silly personal headcanon but I generally peg the Twili as ancient Sheikah counterparts - part of the same community that split and cut ties firmly enough that by the time they were banished most people had forgotten, and the differences great enough that the latter was never in any jeopardy. They do have deific ties to Majora and the Fierce Deity, though it’s been so long there’s no telling if active worship...exists.

Is actually competent, and intelligent. Midna notes that he didn’t end up ruling the realm because people could pick up on his power lust, but no mention is made of the fact the dude is...a lunatic, and Midna seems to register it as something unfamiliar when he flies off the handle toward the end of the game. I think he kept an incredibly tight rein on himself at absolutely all times in the specific hopes of seeming collected and controlled enough to rule, and his outbursts only really started after he was passed over. They clearly kept him around for awhile despite knowing they wouldn’t be crowning him, so it stands to reason Zant is genuinely good at whatever his precise role was, and a magic user of some significant finesse. Not raw power, not until Ganondorf, but incredible dexterity when applied to delicate tasks.

In the same vein as viewing the normal Hyrulean royal family as one certainly responsible for performing or enabling some heinous things, I assume the same could be said of the Twili royals. While I believe Zant’s “served and endured in that depraved household” is an embellishment he’s making spitefully because he’s narcissistic and falling apart, there’s a kernel of important truth. There likely were goings-on that would seem shady to us. I can’t imagine specifics, but it’s worth mentioning that Zant was not the only of the Twili who wanted to return to the real world, and while he had violence on the mind, one could certainly guess there were others who would have been more than content just negotiating a return, and to share it. It’s nevertheless treated entirely as some unreasonable desire, despite...the fact...they were ejected from their home and left to their realm so long they’re markedly different, so much so their previous environment kills them. ( One can only imagine adapting to the Twilight Realm was unpleasant, for the first over. )

50% of the reason he loses is because he’s a moron and an indulgent moron, who just can’t sate himself with winning; he has to win and having a living loser to point at and laugh. He has to have someone he can personally lord over, living testaments to the power of his wrath. If he smartened up enough to just kill people, I...really don’t think he’d have lost that one.

The other 50% is that he’s so utterly unused to Ganondorf’s power, which is overwhelming in both volume and intensity. Zant can warp reality with it. He is, in some important sense, something of a god. And that’s so much that he, who is incredibly well practiced with making more efficient use of less magic, has no goddamn clue what to do with it. It’s difficult to channel and control, and the result are broad sweeps that are chosen for dramatic effect or specifically because they eat up enough to keep him comfortable, rather than practicality.

I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but it’s fascinating to me that most Twili seem to be pretty skin-baring whereas he doesn’t even show his neck under the helmet, and places such a clear focus on fabricating bulk that just isn’t there. I like to think parts of his outfit have weights, and it was partially an effort to physically restrain himself from any reactive-contorting at work. Sometimes you wanna break your spine but that would look most uncouth.

Not a physical fighter. Hit hard, hit fast, hit erratic, then collapse because you can’t breathe. Twili are in general much more inclined toward magic than traditional fisticuffs, but Zant’s exceptionally physically weak among even them. Reedy ‘n Dweeby.

SIDON

Incurably shy kid, believe it or not. The complete lack of dialogue of his in Mipha’s memory was actually entirely because Zelda was there; he would have been sheepish enough had it been any outside figure, but especially someone he understood to be so important - how could he speak? So small. Sheepish. A lot less confident in himself than he’d eventually become, and Mipha’s gentle encouragement ( and its legacy ) was definitely the biggest factor in changing that.

Really really really worried, constantly, that he’s a drain on people. It’s something of a holdover from his shy youth, but also backed up by a lot of what he can observe. He places a great deal more pressure on himself after Mipha’s death as the new heir ( he was never supposed to be, and would honestly be a much more sincerely at ease adult had it not come down to him ), more than, frankly, anyone around him has. As clearly beloved as he is, and with the fairly warm and encouraging person we can surmise his father to be, there’s some demanding little tug he feels toward inadequacy at all times. He’s incredibly empathetic and not being able to assist everyone all the time, despite the impossibility, hurts him.

He’s a little too warm-hearted and emotional, he feels, to be the ideal ruler. He’s far too dedicated to proving to others and himself that he could be, however, to fully indulge his personable and down to earth side. He’s caught teetering quite awkwardly on the edge where he can’t reap the benefits of his charming personality OR dedicated focus and work ethic.

His father never told him Mipha was dead, as he refused to believe it himself. Most zora were split, but eventually enough people seemed defeated enough while murmuring about the matter, the statue went up, and Sidon was first forced to put it together for himself that she really, truly wasn’t coming back. The single most devastating day of his life, and to think it was years after the fact. He hurts more for it, and it’s part of the reason his night visitations are so constant.

On a happier note, he absolutely does tiny swimming drills with little zora kids whenever he can find the time and get a gaggle together. Much whistle blowing, big exaggerated gestures, so much encouragement, it’s a great time all around.

Seeing Zelda and Link makes him regress, just the faintest touch; he certainly idolized Zelda as a child, and despite having some sister-stealing-related animosity towards Link, had spent the remainder of his youth looking up to him as well. It’s two childhood heroes perfectly preserved and dropped back in front of him, which is quite a happy and confusing shock. It brings a lot of Mipha back to mind, which is bittersweet, but he’s also...doggedly determined to try and prove himself to them, despite their approval meaning nothing at all for him beyond sentiment.

No you really don’t understand how cool he thought Zelda was

Definitely....accidentally....got more than a handful of Hylians killed, trying to run them through what Link did. This is actually why he has to stop and check on you every leg of the way -- he really is concerned, and it’s a self-reassurance as much as he hopes it’s just normal reassurance for Link.

REVALI

Doesn’t hate Link. Really. It would need to be coming from a much more intense, much more personal place to truly register as hate. He does, however, IMMENSELY DISLIKE him. It isn’t any kind of confused expression of affection -- I can’t stress enough, the antagonism is pure and genuine. Revali feels incredibly real bitterness toward Link, and to an extent that ever getting past it would be an entire arc in itself. An arc that’d literally be longer than his life, mind you.

I see it crop up a lot so it might be wide fanon? I wouldn’t know - I do generally believe he was an orphan, and Hyrule is so packed with ways to die I couldn’t begin to pin down a cause yet. That said I don’t imagine Revali himself would know, having lost his parents quite early in life and refusing information initially because it hurt, and after that because he convinced himself he was better not knowing. He was for the most part a fairly serious child, simultaneously aggressive and clingy. I imagine he was raised in a foster sort of setting, with an older guardian who passed naturally and with little fanfare when he was a young adult. They got on well enough, and they likely encouraged his at-first-shot adoration for archery ( as is Rito custom, but also Revali’s interest in its own right ) and let him have what space he wanted. Which was a lot. Solitary, even back then. He didn’t take many pains to involve himself with the community and was typically given a lukewarm reception.

A completely unimpressive shot, initially, but he took to flying at a little more impressive a pace. Not exceptional at either for a long while. He got exceptional by working at it on a daily basis for...honestly, the entirety of his life after he first picked it up. No exaggeration. Minimal breaks taken, and only to make sure he had minimal time to heal or rest his muscles when sorely needed, and never more. He had some small reserve of natural affinity, but by and large his success came entirely because he worked his ass of for it. He took it seriously, kept at it, stayed passionate about getting better; not for a particular reason, even. He had most of the village’s best archers thoroughly outclassed* in his late teens ( or Rito equivalent ) and though he was a ways from even conceptualizing the Gale, was a thoroughly adept flier. He didn’t care particularly much about warrior-ing as a career but assumed it was where he would end up, and in the meantime supported himself comfortably enough through inheritance and some horribly tedious job nobody recalls because he glared them into taking it to their graves. This was eventually swapped with competition winnings as his star ascended.

* I’d like to note I generally don’t think the Rito are actually renowned archers, and it’s more of a cultural thing than one of skill. Revali asked for a practice range to practice at more elevations, which sounds like the sort of thing they’d have to begin with if they were putting intense focus on archery in combat. Revali’s skill wasn’t notable or locally renowned as some kind of curiosity, it was because he was outperforming actual warriors and taking an icon of theirs to new heights, and at a relatively young age. Note that no one else can make physical use of his bow, after his death. It’s not just that he’s good, it’s that he actually IS better at it than anyone else in the area. And this is before he invents the Gale. Additionally, he was entirely self-taught beyond the rudimentary tips to help him start flying as a young’un. It was difficult, but he isn’t broken up about it. On the contrary, it freed him to go at everything at his own overintense pace, and work on outdoing everything rather than necessarily polishing his grasp of basics before he absolutely had to. He really values self-reliance in others, for reasons like this.

It’s small, but his ‘I...could get used to this’ is enough to convince me in addition to being more stoic in his youth, he was something approaching humble. It’s not entirely that the sudden onslaught of praise overinflated his ego - it did, but that’s not all of it - but also that he felt the amount of praise was proportionate to the blood, sweat, and tears he had put into getting so good. He had no friends, mind you, no family, and beyond the one mention of Rito children looking up to him and the general legacy he left behind as a visionary in his craft, he didn’t have much of a life. He certainly enjoys it in an annoying way, but I think there’s some merit to the zeal.

I get the vague impression Rito are fairly removed, and while not unfriendly are a little closed off from other cultures. Revali reflects this, partially in his implied low opinion of Hylians.

Of the champions, Mipha and Zelda are his favorites by a ridiculous margin. Not that it shows all that often. The Mipha smile though? Significant. She’s Theeeeee favorite. ( Not that this means he didn’t probably pick on young Sidon, just a touch. )

Died because...I mean, the plot, but also because he was tired ( the distance he had to travel to get to Medoh, and in one go, isn’t ideal ), more shaken than he would admit on pain of a hundred deaths ( at what he’d seen on the way there, surely more chaos than he was accustomed to ), and the corruption of Medoh hit him especially hard as he had REALLY bonded with it. The ‘winging it’ line is partially true; after all of that, he...panicked, a little.

The lack of living people that remember him? Eats at him way way way way way way way way way way way more than he’ll ever let anyone know. He’s a real sad bird, inside.

GHIRAHIM

His baseline ‘personality’ / set of functions is, at the core, largely a mirror of Fi. He is the version of himself that we know only because he refused to linger in his sword state -- ambition and initiative were things he had much more of than she did, and largely lacking in the tactful patience that’s more or less served her well. Being crafted rather than born and manifesting himself on his own, he at no point had anything resembling a guiding figure or much by way of...normal socialization. The lack of anything resembling a traditional foundation coupled with the RIDICULOUS amount of time he spent in incredibly mixed company seeking out whatever might help him locate his master, and the frustration that comes with such immense and ongoing failure, contribute as much to the end result as anything he was made / ‘born’ with.

He actually isn’t an astonishing combatant against someone intelligent who knows what they’re up against; he is himself aware of this, and takes what other advantages he can get. I typically view Link defeating him as fair integration of gameplay and story and not something that had to happen for the plot - it ultimately came down to the sword Link was using. Ghirahim isn’t at his most powerful unless he’s in sword form, as that’s what he was designed to be, and some substantial portion of his energy is likely wasted on manifesting physically at all, any magic he performs, teleportation, so on and so forth. He can read people, he has his magical origins on his side, and he’s certainly strong, and all of those things are enough to fell whatever unfortunate people or monsters initially tried to attack him, but up against non-laymen and in the name of cutting down needless-but-numerous future challengers it’s in his interest to blow himself out of proportion. He’s a fantastic talker, good at making an impression, and once the first crop is afraid of him, it just snowballs until he doesn’t need to do much of anything - I imagine ‘Lord Ghirahim’ was something he didn’t actually come up with himself, but heard once and liked it so much he went out and made everyone do it.

There’s some level of discontent with his ultimate fate, but it’s buried under his own resolute refusal to acknowledge or explore it consciously because he was made to serve and to serve one purpose, and was not intended for any higher aspirations, and because even on an unconscious level, his very being can’t accept it for long. During his impressive span of relative isolation and lording over scant surface-folk / monsters, he grew just a touch beyond his programming. Make no mistake, this doesn’t make him less of a threat -- has to or not, he is nothing short of a fanatic and would still do anything at all for Demise or to spite Hylia -- it’s merely that he briefly lets his mind wander, and suffers a somewhat human need to justify himself, which he has. ( In fact it makes him worse, because he’s gone from something of a mindless tool of cruelty to someone actively seeking it out, having convinced themselves quite firmly of its necessity and value. ) A general Thing I run with re: this whole series is that Hyrule’s actually a horrible place to live if you squint, and basically all the goddesses are horrible to the poor mortals below. Ghira’s owed a little frustration with his lot.

Related to the above? As delightful as it is to joke about, he’s not a sincerely sexual entity. Any and all weird tongue-waggling is done specifically because he knows it throws people off, and that’s what he wants out of a fight. He’s not socialized enough to know much of the nuance behind similar action, he just knows it gets a large reaction out of people, and typically that makes intimidation or murder even easier.

#WICKEDNESS IN THE HEARTS OF MAN ( vaati : headcanon )#NOR THE FAINTEST BLOOM OF DESIRE ( zant : headcanon )#ARISTOCRATIC AND OPEN HEARTED ( sidon : headcanon )#DON'T COME CRYING TO ME ( revali : headcanon )#A STRONG APPETITE FOR BLOODSHED ( ghirahim : headcanon )#the Vaati one's not dONE but it's late and I'll edit something in tomorrow

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