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saninthebuilding · 1 year

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"it's your golden hour"

❤️‍🩹 pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❤️‍🩹 summary: being in a relationship with an idol can be a bit busy, especially when it's one of the members of bts. however, despite all taehyung's idol activities, you're there to show him- both to his face and behind his back -just how much you love him, even when he doubts his worth.

❤️‍🩹 word count: 2.8k (edited!)

❤️‍🩹 genre: idol!taehyung au, art major!reader au, university student!reader au, fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort

❤️‍🩹 trope: pre-established relationship

❤️‍🩹 warnings: self-doubt, crying, mentions of sleep, taehyung is unsure of reader's love for him, reader is completely in love with taehyung, they're really soft, fluffy-haired taehyung (because i consider this a warning, he's so fine-)

❤️‍🩹 a/n: changing up my theme! to be honest i like this a lot more, it's so organized and clear, but anyways. i really liked how this turned out, even though i had a completely different idea when i started this, but i've been so in love with taehyung's hair in his recent lives and i just had to write something for him because he's been bias-wrecking me really hard lately. i hope you enjoy!

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leaning back into the couch, i stretch my arms high above my head, basking in the evening sun currently streaming through the large french windows in the living room.

taehyung lay sprawled out beside me, head in my lap and feet hanging off the side of the sofa as he taps away at his phone, playing some game he'd downloaded recently.

he cheers, pumping his fist into the air as a celebratory tune rings out from his phone, and i shake my head, smiling down at him as i brush his hair out of his eyes. he looks up at me, excited, before turning back to his screen.

it was a lazy sunday for taehyung and i, the two of us having cleared up our weekend to make time for each other. although he was currently on break from his idol activities to work on his solo career, he was still busy. having secured several deals, he was bomboarded with photoshoots and modelling by major companies like celine and elle korea- just to name a few.

however, my schedule wasn't any better. as a current art major in my fourth year of university, culminating week was just around the corner as my last semester rounded to a close. it was a stressful time, but i was lucky enough to have submitted my portfolio assignment early, so i had the rest of the week free before my final evaluation.

sighing, i look down, staring at taehyung playing his game. he seemed so focused, the reflection of the colourful lights from his screen painting his determined expression in hues of reds and blues.

looking at the time, i see the clock on the opposing wall reads 6:13 pm.

i pouted, glaring at his phone that had held his undivided attention for the past hour. i had thought he would put it away after a while, but it seemed like he had been waiting all week to try the app out, so i'd taken the opportunity to just enjoy his company.

still, i did miss actually interacting with him.

we'd barely gotten free time until now, and until his final photoshoots finished and my semester ended it was unlikely we'd get to spend some proper time together like this again.

not gonna lie, i feel like i'm third-wheeling here.

"taehyung, why won't you hang out with me?" i whined, taking him by surprise as i drum my hands on his chest. he lets out a startled yelp, quickly pressing something on his phone before looking up at me.

"yah, i almost lost!" he protests, looking at me in absolute horror- "you can't scare me like that!"

"yea, well maybe you should lose" i say, cheeks puffing up as i spoke. "all you've been doing is playing that game for the past hour. it's like i freed the weekend up just to watch you-"

realizing this wasn't what i had intended to say, i backtracked, waving my hands around frantically in panic, "which i love, don't get me wrong! uh- watching you, i mean. but, i just..."

i trail off, hands coming up to cover my face in embarrassment, before i peek down through my fingers. taehyung is gazing up at me, a soft look on his face, phone forgotten on his stomach.

i sigh, taking his silence as an encouragement to keep going.

"i've just missed you so much" i mumble, turning away from him to look out the window. the sun was setting lower now, rays turning golden as they hit the glass and splintered in the air.

it was magical.

"this is the only weekend we both have off until all our work is finished, and that isn't for another week or so. and i've barely seen at all except for when i'm leaving early morning for a class and you're there to drive me, or when you come drained after a day of work and slip into bed next to me, so it's a little..."

i pause, confused as i see taehyung's mouth falls open in shock. but before i can ask him what's wrong, he quickly sits up, shifting the two of us on the couch so we're facing each other.

"shit, do i wake you up every night?" he asks as his hands glide up and down my sides in what seems to be apology, "i swear i try to be quiet-"

i laugh, realizing he thinks he disturbs my sleep, before shaking my head, "no, no, don't worry. you don't wake me up." i let my hands rest on his knees, tracing small patterns with my fingers to calm him down.

"but then how do you-" he stops talking, confused, "it's always really late when i get home. and you're always asleep when i lie down..."

"well, no, not really. i just..." i feel heat start to creep into my ears, and i look down, focusing on the soft white material of his t-shirt.

"i wait for you. i know how tired you are when you get home, you barely even wash up or change before coming to bed. so i just, you know..."

i don't see it, but taehyung's eyes go wide, as if something clicked in his head. "that's why my clothes are always changed, and why my face and hair aren't full of all the products the staff use when i wake up."

suddenly taehyung tilts his head down, and as he looks at me, i see his expression has turned gentle, loving, adoring, as though i were the most precious thing in the world. his hands have stopped on my waist, and when he speaks his voice is heavy with emotion.

"no wonder on some nights i'd feel you moving around. and others i'd wake up with memories of hands cupping my face, guiding a glass of water to my lips, brushing the hair out of my eyes. you take care of me every night after i fall asleep, don't you?"

i bite my bottom lip, feeling a little embarrassed, but i nod anyway.

it was true. each night i'd wait for taehyung to get home, and after he had knocked himself out among the sheets, i would get up and start with his clothes. sometimes he'd wake up halfway, helping me swap his dress pants for a pair of soft pajama bottoms. other times i'd gently peel off his leather jacket or button-up while he slept, leaving him more comfortable in a t-shirt.

next i'd wet a towel with warm water and wipe the beauty products off his face (even though he doesn't need any). but it was never too much since the stylists try their best to use as little as possible when shooting, so it was always the easiest thing to do.

then i'd get another wet towel and start on his hair, working out the gel and hair spray that was occasionally still there on days where taehyung didn't have the energy to wash it out before coming home.

and if i was lucky, he would sometimes wake up just as i was getting back into bed, drunk on sleep and exhaustion, and i'd use the opportunity to coax a glass of water into his hands, encouraging him to finish it.

it was nights like these i cherished most, the stolen moments i was sometimes blessed with when i helped him drink some water and he would mumble how his day had been, eyes bleary and hands reaching for my warmth. the days where he trusted me enough to let me take care of him, even in his most vulnerable state, before pulling me into his chest and falling back to sleep with me in his arms.

and as i felt his fingers under my chin, guiding my head to meet his gaze, i stared into his soft, brown eyes, taking in the way the sun hit his tan skin just right, bathing him in a golden glow so breathtaking that he looked unreal, seeing the way his eyes shined and his face was so full of love, for me, all for me, and i realize that, no, those moments were not what i cherished most.

it was him that i cherished most.

"y/n?" taehyung breathes, and as i saw his eyes begin to turn wet, i understood that he felt the same way.

even though we barely got any time together, even though we barely saw each other, even though our lives were so busy, at the end of the day these things would never change the way we felt for each other.

because i loved him, and he loved me, and regardless of all our photoshoots and assignments and mismatched schedules, that love was never going anywhere.

it would never waver, because the bond the two of us had created over the years was deeper than scenic dates and bouqets of flowers and fancy gifts.

it was trust and comfort and support and understanding- but above all else, it was unconditional love.

and that is the kind that lasts forever.

"yes?" i whisper, and my voice comes out breathless, dazed, as i am completely transfixed by the man before me.

"don't i burden you? don't you think i rely on you this much, even unknowingly? doesn't it bother you that i'm barely around, showing up late at night only to fall straight asleep and wake up early only to leave you again?"

my lips part as a gasp comes out of my mouth, his unexpectedly serious words spearing my chest- "of course not taehyung, how could you say that?"

he shakes his head, teeth nipping at the corner of his mouth. "i mean, i know i'm an idol, and that this relationship is probably already something that puts strain on your shoulders due to the possibility of fans finding you and harming you. but i'm also your boyfriend. and boyfriends are supposed to be here, supposed to be present, supposed to show you how much you mean to them."

taehyung leans closer, tentative, wary, almost scared as he reaches out to me, only to pull his hand away. he swallows hard, before looking up to meet my gaze, eyes glistening.

"don't you get tired of being with me?"

my heart drops at his words, at how ashamed and anxious he sounds. he clenches his jaw, a nervous habit of his, and i let my eyes linger on the movement, watching how the veins in his neck make a quick appearance. i see the muscles in his arms flex as he lifts his hand to my face again, seeming unsure. i admire the ethereal glow the sun casts upon his skin as he raises my head to his. the mole on his lower lip, on his nose, on his cheek. the way he pulls the skin of his bottom lip between his teeth, sinking them into the soft flesh before letting go. the way the salt water in his eyes threatens to spill over his lashline.

i lift my hands up to his cheeks just as he rests his own on mine, gently brushing my thumbs over his eyes, preventing the tears from finding their way down his face.

he opens his mouth to continue, but i'm faster, the words tumbling out of me before i can stop myself.

"i love you so much taehyung" i breathe, voice catching in my throat as i feel my own eyes starting to sting. "so, so, so much- more than you can ever know. but you have to know. you need to know. i need you to know."

taehyung lets out a shaky breath, something halfway between a hiccup and a sob, and i move closer, climbing into his lap.

"we're both busy, and that's unavoidable. you have your life and i have mine, and even though we are so closely part of each others' lives, there are some things i cannot be included in, just as there are some things you cannot be included in."

his hands have come to rest on my hips, and letting one hand rest on his cheek, i maintain eye contact as i carefully run the other under his eye. over his cheekbone. his cheek. along his jawline. down his neck. he swallows under my touch, and i feel his adam's apple bob beneath my fingers. his eyes stay on mine, and when my hand reaches his chest, i flatten my palm directly over his heart, feeling his heartbeat thumping against my skin.

"but even though i may not be everywhere with you physically, i will always be in here."

i gaze at him, feeling my own heart beginning to speed up as i feel his fingers creep under my shirt, tracing circles with his thumbs on the skin of my waist.

"it doesn't matter how much time we spend together, it doesn't matter how much time we don't spend together. i need you to know that my love for you is not going anywhere."

my voice cracks a bit, a tear escaping down my cheek, and this causes taehyung to sniffle, eyes watering again.

"it doesn't matter how late you come home, it doesn't matter how early you have to leave. i will be there" i say, pressing my hand into his chest, "both in here..." i take my hand away from his face and gently grip his wrist, before placing his hand on my cheek, "and out here."

he bites his lip, visibly struggling to keep his tears at bay as he lets out a shuddering breath. he's clutching my sides now, as though trying to ground himself, to control the sobs threatening to take over.

"i will always be there to wipe your face down when you're too tired, to make sure you eat or drink something after a long day, to tuck you into bed so you can get a good night's sleep- to do whatever it is you want me to do for you."

i let go of his hand, reaching over to cup his face again, before pressing my lips to his forehead. and it is this action that seems to be too much for him, that breaks the dam he was so desperately trying to maintain, and he lets out a sob, arms wrapping around my body as he pulls me close, burying his face into my shoulder.

"because i love you, taehyung" i choke out, my own tears spilling down my cheeks upon hearing him break in my arms, "and i will always love you. so don't you ever doubt that."

he's crying in earnest now, his hands fisting the cloth of my shirt as his body shakes from the force of his tears. he inhales shakily, before forcing himself to say something.

"y/n" taehyung sputters, and i'm instantly hugging him closer as my own tears fall, rubbing his back and planting soft kisses into his fluffy hair.

"i'm right here, taehyung. i'm not going anywhere, i promise," i whisper into his ear, gently rocking us side to side. "it's okay, you're okay. we're okay."

i let him cry for a while longer, holding him up even as his body gives out under the weight of his tears. i feel him pulling away, and as i wipe my tears away to glance at him, his hands are suddenly cupping my cheeks, looking me straight in the eyes before he presses his lips to mine.

the tears streaming down his face mix with my own on our lips, the salt water a stark contrast to the sweetness of the kiss. he goes slow, as though trying to engrain the moment into his heart, into his mind, convincing himself that i did actually, truly love him despite the burden he considered himself to be.

i tangle my fingers into his hair, and as i marvel at the softeness of his brown locks under my hands, i pull him closer, wanting him to feel all the affection and adoration and sheer love i had for him.

taehyung leans back after a bit, panting softly, his glossy eyes blown wide as he studies my face. he lifts a hand to caress my cheek, absentmindedly brushing at the wetness on my skin before pressing his forehead to mine.

"i love you" he whispers, "i love you so much, y/n, and i can't tell you how grateful and lucky i feel just to be able to call you mine."

he pulls away, grabbing my hand and slips his fingers between my own, before lifting our intertwined hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand, keeping his eyes on mine the entire time.

despite my current drowsiness due to all the tears i just cried, i let out a surprised giggle. taehyung's gaze is gentle as he watches me, wiping the tears from my face, and i lean into his touch before throwing myself into his arms. he catches me easily, arms supporting my weight as i kiss his cheek, smiling softly.

"i love you taehyung."

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❤️‍🩹 i hope you enjoyed! likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading!

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noowayybroo · 10 months

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That nameless fic - Part 2

People liked this fic! So thank you! It felt nice to write about happy Leon, and helping him (Like he helps all of us!) This fic is a lot softer and sweeter, and as requested, you and Leon get closer! And closer! Annnd then you date! This fic is real soft, really sweet, and that was really nice to write! I hope you like!

Characters: Leon Kennedy, GN!Reader

Warnings: Not NSFW. GN reader! :)) No mention of age but faint job and relationship to Leon suggestions. I struggle to keep the fic GN instead of saying "she, him etc" for you to make it more immersive, so it can get repetitive. Huge sorry. Some cuddle some kiss (v little at the end but be warned nevertheless)

It'd been a few weeks since you'd helped Leon out of his large predicament (to put it very lightly). Three weeks, to be exact. Three weeks of barely putting down your phone.

Well, come on.

How could you with a handsome, sweet blonde blowing it up all the time?

Daily, almost hourly, the two of you typed to each other about this-and-that. You spoke about work, about the weather. You talked about family and friends, gossiped about neighbours and told tall tales from every day life.

And Leon, on the other end, drank up each story and each word, becoming more and more enthralled by the letter. You weren't sure how he saw things. You'd never get into his mind, but to you, it felt as though you'd been good friends from birth.

The man appeared at your place of work just as consistently as he'd done before, cheering you on and heckling those who did not. He looked exhausted sometimes, and you'd wonder if he should be fast asleep rather than trudging over in the rain just for something small and random like a tub of ice cream, or once - a hand-powered fan. You'd not seen someone buy one of those since you started that job.

It was endearing, the way he checked on you and cheered you on, yet not once disrespected you or your space. He only found you during boring hours at work, and only when you weren't too busy for him.

Whilst his visits were short and sweet, he recently began banging on about a new job. Not for him, but for you. It was strange to see his face light up how it did whenever he spoke about it, as if he were certain that this would change your life in some way.

"There's this place-", he would begin, waving his arms around to try and hand signal the shapes of buildings and their locations, "It's near here! The pay, man, the pay is much better than here..." Leon seems bewitched as he stares off, spouting strangely enthusiastic words about a random store. You wonder who he's really trying to sell it to: you, himself, or the elderly lady towards the back of the store who's browsing loaves of bread.

He turns to you, excitement in his face. His eyes forced to squint by his beaming smile, his joy on just as full of a display as his teeth. "You could actually work normal hours!! Like any hours you want! But during the day! And they sell, like, everything! And the employee discount! Don't even get me started on-"

"Oh yeah, Mister Salesman?" you quip, raising a playful eyebrow towards your suddenly silent customer. You lean forward on the counter, propping yourself up on an elbow. "What's got you so obsessed with this place anyway?" Leon's brows furrow, contemplating a reply which doesn't come before you quiz, "And what's got you so excited about my career, too?"

Leon flushes a little, probably overheating from the gears you can hear turning away in his brain. For a while, there's silence, before Leon looks at you quite solemnly.

"Look… I know I haven't known you long, and I'm not trying to overstep, honestly, but it kills me seeing you work here. I know the pay isn't worth it, and the late nights…" his voice trails off somewhat pitifully as his eyes sink to just below yours. He's probably observing your eye-bags. The same ones that you're too tired to even try and hide. "I just want you to have a little more in life. You know?"

"Leon." you scoff, "You know they're not gonna take me, right? I'm here cuz I got nowhere else to be." you fix your posture and give a polite smile, greeting your actual customer as she approaches the till.

She's polite and in a fairly good mood, stepping forward as Leon moves to let her by. She thanks you, gives you and Leon a somewhat knowing look, and takes her leave, declared by the door chime. Meanwhile, Leon thinks carefully about what to say.

You wouldn't know this, of course, but he spent a lot of time thinking and planning, regarding you. To him, you were somewhat a saviour. You were becoming his best friend. You seemed to care relentlessly for him from day one, and honestly, he could not fathom why.

Perhaps he was biased.

Perhaps, you were some kind of angel.

Anyway, Leon in no way ever wanted to upset or insult you, so he was always considerate. It'd worked so far, he'd genuinely never upset you.

"You're wrong. While it's true that some people have to have jobs like that, because they can't find anywhere else... Not you." Leon leans in, gently taking one of your hands in his and squeezing softly so you look at him. He then continues to muse, "You're amazing, Y/N. You work so hard, and personality wise... Well, all I can say is you deserve better, and you can get better. You just have to try." Towards the end of his sentence, Leon's eyes drift away from yours. He seems awkward, but what he said really did mean something to you.

You stand together in silence for a while, until Leon shatters it like glass. "Please, just. go. Any time you can. It's on North Street, alright? Just go in, ask to speak to a manager. Say you're there for an interview and give them your name, they'll give you one. Alright?" You nod weakly in response and give Leon a small, grateful smile. Whilst he was a bit pushy and strangely confident, his pep-talk did put quite a spring in your step. You were going to do it. It'd be a good idea, and it would be great to get out of here.

He gathers some things, deciding to be courteous, and pays for them. "It's called Johnny's!", is the last you hear before Leon leaves for the night, wishing you well. A simple 'good luck and good night'.

The night passes quickly and uneventfully, a sweet taste left on your tongue. Eventually, you head home, arising at around 1pm, ready for that interview.

Oh God, an interview.

I mean: You hadn't booked anything... You didn't still have to go. But Leon. You remembered how excited he was, how enthusiastic. He was so sure you'd get that job. You had to at least try, just for him. You freshened up, put something nice on, wrote a small shopping list, and headed out for the day.

The day went well, you bought some home essentials before visiting that accursed store... For Leon. This was for Leon. Strong, be strong.

'Bing!'

Two wide glass doors slide open to allow you entry into the store.

"Hello, I'm uhm... I'm here for an interview?" The shop was huge, aisles and aisles packed with fresh food, toys, appliances and DIY supplies.

"An interview? Are you sure? Hang on... can I have your name?" There were at least five members of staff on duty, three of which alone manned the tills you stood at currently.

"My name? Oh, yeah, it's Y/N... It's alright if you weren't expecting me-" You notice just how much more wonderful this place looked, and deep down, you started to wish you could work here. You didn't just want this for Leon anymore.

"No no, it's no problem at all, honestly, Please let me just get a manager, alright?" No 'owner', not 'the manager', 'a manager'. There were so many people here, and not just employees - customers! Loads of them! People with carts, families, smiling people, kind people.

Oh! How much nicer it was here...

"Oh, hey, can I help you? Y/N, right?", a tall man stands before you on the other side of the counter. His hands are clasped together as he smiles in a genial manner, nodding his head slightly "You're here for an interview?" Oh man, he was already so nice. All of this was already so nice.

"Yeah! ...Yes, that would be great, I am... Please, yeah..." You fumble over your words, but the shop crowd seems un-phased. The first employee you addressed is already back to manning the tills, and the manager makes his way around the till to address you properly.

Oh no. You began to panic. It was so nice here. Everyone was so... sophisticated. They had their heads screwed on... but you? Some... sleepless 24/7 dweller? With your moods? With your attitude? There was no way you'd get this job.

It felt draining, petrifying, being led into a flush, stylish office looking room and sat down. The man before you was friendly, introducing himself as Jack before waiting patiently for you to catch your breath a little. He then asked you a few questions about your availability, your previous work experience, and your personality. Rather, whatever personality you'd have him believe you had. You focused a lot less on his questions about customer scenarios, and more on how his eyebrows and lips quirked when you knew you'd gotten the answers wrong.

And just like that, terrified and sweating more than you'd like to admit, you give Jack your name, your number, and are asked to await his call. You'd done something that day, you think, as you shake hands goodbye and make your way home, that you wouldn't have done in a good few years, and that was thanks to Leon.

Your feet feel heavy, your footfalls sharp as you march home, just so ready to collapse into your bed, or onto your couch. Maybe call Leon, maybe tell him you did what he'd asked. Maybe you'd laugh at how scared you'd been, maybe you'd cry at the fear of throwing away an opportunity you actually really wanted by not preparing.

Perhaps you'd get home, unlock your door, and look down to find a small envelope on the floor. And then, if that were the case, you'd place your bags down in the hallway, close the door, and bend to pick up the paper. And then, should you have done that, you might open it to find a card. A 'congratulations' card, from none other than Leon Kennedy. To you, it read:

Knew you could do it!

You just had to get out there, Y/N!

See what you're capable of?

Put in your notice!

I'll see you at your new job soon!

-Leon :)

Suspicious, to say the least. But he was correct - within a few days, Jack had called you back to confirm your new position, and your manager, with a surprisingly heavy heart had bid you goodbye. Of course, you called Leon. In fact, you interrogated him about the whole thing, but he remained utterly zip-lipped about the entire thing. Permanently. Like he'd trained for it. Really, it was impressive considering just how excitable and eager to share he usually was around you.

With your new job, Leon's visits only became more frequent, despite it being further from his home. He stayed for longer, bought more, and spent time with you on whichever of your lunchbreaks he could get to around work. You became closer as friends. Just friends, you told yourself. Sometimes, you'd get dinner together: restaurants, fast food, the lot. You'd get drinks and desserts: bubble tea, coffee, shakes, waffles - you name it. The excuse remained the same: "I'm curious, you're wanna try it, let's go together."

It often led to jokes between the two of you about how others must have thought you were both dating by now. Another excuse for you to both share warm, genuine laughs. You loved the way his eyes and nose scrunched up, the way he grinned. You liked hearing his loud giggles and laughs, the way he leaned back and threw his head, and the way he swept his fringe from his eyes to get a very good look at you whenever you spoke; an astounding contrast from the Leon you first met.

Sometimes, you'd catch films together or go for walks in parks. Whenever you suggested an interest in a place such as a shopping centre, a zoo or a landmark, he'd instantly plan a day out with you, just the two of you, going wherever you wanted. And you'd do the exact same for him. You were quickly introduced to his friends, and him to yours. Everyone got on without fault, it was truly meant to be.

His gifts, whilst stressfully frequent and undeserved, were always thought out. From hand-adorned items to homemade food and good deeds, he gave you wonders money could never buy, and was always extremely grateful for whatever you gifted him with in return, especially your time. Leon treasures you, and he won't let you forget it. He always tells you how much you mean to him, and after every time you meet in person, he texts you and thanks you for the day, wishing you'd get home safely.

That's not the only time he messages you though. Sometimes, you wake up to a 'good morning' or a 'thank you again for yesterday.' Sometimes it's well wishes for the day ahead, others he's sent you a meme or a post he thinks you'll like. You feel as though this man is your best friend, your soulmate even. But unfortunately, he wasn't yours. Specifically, you feel this for about the next 4 months.

Recently, Leon's begun to tell you when he sees someone he likes. He tells you all about them: how beautiful their body was, how lovely their face. He tells you how wonderful their voice made him feel, or how nervous he was to approach them. He asks for advice, and he thanks you a billion times, reminding you that if it weren't for you, he'd never have any of this. He wouldn't have the confidence, the power or the freedom to find true love, and it was thanks to you that he could get out there.

He could love and be loved, and it wouldn't be by you.

But that was okay.

It was bittersweet, sure, it was bittersweet, but Leon was your friend. You protected each other, you looked out for one another, and that meant wanting the other to be happy. You'd find someone, and whether he did or not, the only thing you could be was grateful that he'd be happy, and far away from his horrible past.

Strange, though, it never seemed to work out. Each interest, he'd have an excuse for. You couldn't recall how many times you'd heard the blonde nervously explain that he'd 'chickened out' or claim to have 'lost interest.' Leon once went as far to claim that he was too busy between you and work, but when that upset you and he realised it'd sounded entirely as unintended, he spent about 10 solid minutes apologising and babbling and another 15 with his tail between his legs.

You wonder if he's lying to please you. And then you wonder if he tells others about his time spent with you? Could it be that you matter more or less than those he crushes on? Or, do you mean more or less than his other friends?

Woah pal, stop right there. No more of those thoughts, damn.

You've got to focus right now! You're walking home with Leon after your 9-5, and he's eagerly telling you about his own day at work. It's an early summer evening, and everything seems to be in full bloom. The trees sway in soft winds, proving you both with graceful shade from the slow-setting sun. Leon's walking with you, risking looking like an idiot whilst he uses his umbrella to further shelter you from the heat as you exchange information about your day. You decide to take a detour through your local park.

"I'm glad I could get off work on time to walk with you today!", Leon sighs, aimlessly strolling alongside you, seeming to be trying to draw out the duration of your walk, "It's been such a shit week, but now we can just relax, right?? Feels good to catch up."

"Yeah, of course", you laugh, always seeming to be in a good mood when around him, especially watching him kick at the gravel below his feet as he keeps a hand in his pocket. He seems to be acting casual, while desperately fighting going home and parting ways. "Sorry I was a bit quiet earlier, just thinking. Also, busy day for me too."

"Oh? Thinking about what?", he pries, innocent and curious, but you're not at all in a position to be honest about that.

"Just work, nosey!" Leon grumbles at your response before chuckling. Then, he is promptly approached by a very excited dog, which jumps up at him, barks excitedly and lets him pet him before running over to you and then off to its owner. "Awwwww cutteeee" Leon coos, unintentionally putting on a very sweet pet voice as he watches the dog leave, slightly sad.

"You like dogs?" It was amusing, to say the least.

"Love them, love them so much, we used to have a doggie growing up, he was the best." Leon proceeds to tell you about the dog he used to have, including some memories of their times spent together.

"Oh really?... Hey Leon, if you were a dog, which-"

"Retriever. Golden retriever." He replies instantly, well, at least he was self aware.

Eventually, you and Leon each your home. Just as before, he seems reluctant to leave you. Doing your best to hide your joy, you invite him in. You're a lot less excited than you would have been say a few weeks or months ago, having somewhat come to terms with your platonic relationship. Leon, however, is not so good at hiding his excitement as he rushes inside and gets comfortable. He kicks off his shoes, jumps onto your couch and prepares to be pampered.

"Hey, what's gotten into you?" You laugh, disbelieving. "What do you know that I don't this time?" You trudge over to Leon slowly after removing your own shoes, an eyebrow raised. Your confused expression is met with his chill, enthused own.

"No.. uh, nothing I just wanted to chill. Wanna watch a film??" He does seem a little apologetic, to his credit.

"Yeah, alright, a film will do. Mister 'In my house', I will watch one of my films. Netflix?"

"And chill." He interjects, smoothly. What's gotten into this guy? To be fair, it'd been the first time in months he hadn't been able to see you in a few weeks due to work, so he was probably just interested in catching up.

You both get comfortable on the couch, quite close to each other, and chat the night away as you watch film after film. Until you get hungry, that is.

"Hey, uh, what'd you wanna do for dinner?" his voice rings out amongst the loud action scene you're mutually enthralled with. "I could get takeout, as a sorry for inviting myself in?"

"it's all good Leon... uhh... actually, I kinda have leftovers from yesterday. You mind?" You worry for a second that Leon won't want to eat your seconds, especially reheated. You'd completely understa-

"Sure! I'll go find it." Well, that was nice of him. Leon makes his way to the fridge after gently shaking you off from your comfy cuddling position. (It had developed overtime) and with your instruction, finds the food. Soon, he brings back a bowl of spaghetti each, and some popcorn for later, and you continue to enjoy your night.

You enjoy your night so much in fact that you end up falling asleep on the couch, in between Leon's legs. Originally, you'd been sitting there, entirely innocently. Upon waking up, however, you were laying against him, curled up on his chest with his arms wrapped firmly around you. The glowing digital clock by your TV told you it was late, as did Leon's soft purrs and heavy breaths just above you as he relaxed there with you in his arms.

He'd since turned off the TV, probably to allow you to sleep, and whilst it was too dark in the room to see him, you could feel the strong beat of his heart and the slow rise and fall of his chest, lifting and dropping you methodically as he rested there with you. You were unsure whether Leon was awake or asleep, but didn't move to check, for fear he may become spooked and change positions. That was probably your worst nightmare at this moment, because this was the first time you'd ever been this close and intimate with your good friend.

Was it really so bad? So disrespectful to like him?

How could you not like him when everything about him was so wonderful?

He was handsome and strong, kind and considerate. And he smelled... so good. You relax into him a little further, taking in his warmth, revelling in how his muscular arms held you as if they'd never let you go. Oh how you wished it could be true. You wanted him to hold you like this all the time, you wanted him to love you, to mean it. Each soft breath from his nose fanned your fringe, tickling you slightly as you let out a very small yawn and melted against him. Just like that, hands on his chest, head by his neck, you fell asleep again.

When you woke up and Leon was gone you couldn't help but wonder if it was all a dream. The most sad dream: a fake paradise. It was all you'd ever wanted, and Leon's absence in your awakening only proved it was merely a mirage. The plates from last night's dinner were gone, and as you came to you could hear the sounds of something frying coming from your kitchen. You could also hear Leon cursing to himself about where things were or any other mishaps that may have been occurring. Lazily, you opt to lay in.

After a while, soft padding sounds alert you to Leon tiptoeing over to you as if in a cartoon, eager to not wake you up or disturb you, but alas, you were awake. He curses himself again.

"Morning sleepy head" He coos, ducking down to your level as you lay on the couch to look you in the eyes "You feeling alright? I'm making breakfast!"

You nod groggily and rub your eyes, stretching as your voice cracks "Heyyy Leon... Thanks. you didn't have to... What are we having?"

"Sit up and find out!" He chirps, dashing back to the kitchen "I lied actually, I finished! It's ready! Give me a minute!" Once you've sat up and woken up a little, Leon brings you a plate of food. The portions are hearty but that's not his merit, it's your food! It's also delicious, if not a little... extra crispy. (We all know Leon is not a master chef) Together, you and Leon enjoy breakfast and you afterwards excuse yourself to get changed and ready for the day.

When you're back, Leon's washed up and is sitting on your couch looking quite serious. He sits you down to have a talk, and immediately you worry. You'd completely forgotten about last night, having written it off as a dream like an idiot. Could that be what he was about to speak about?

"Listen... Y/N", he begins. His voice is a soft whisper, yet it's assertive, and commands your attention. Once you nod and lock eyes, he continues. "About last night..." Oh no, this couldn't be good. "I woke up in the middle of the night, and I don't know if you did but-"

"I'm sorry Leon I didn't mean to fall asleep on you I'm really sorry-"

"Oh..." Leon hums and looks away thoughtfully for a while. What? Was that not what he was talking about? What the- "Alright, that's okay. I wanted to say actually that I was sorry if I made you uncomfortable... I wasn't sure if you were awake at any point but I didn't want to risk waking you so I thought it would be best if I left you." Your heart sinks a little at his words. How sweet of him.

You know what? You could tell him now, you could tell him how you feel... or how you did feel, and it'd be in the open, and then you guys could go back to being friends.

With Leon, at least, you never doubted that he would accept your emotions and stay friends.

"Actually Leon, I did wake up, yeah... I liked it, I really liked sleeping with you. It felt safe." Leon's baby blue eyes widen suddenly as he watches you. They almost shiver, he looks strangely emotional as he hunches over forward, listening intently to you and not once dividing his attention. "Leon... I have to be honest with you.. I think I liked it because I like you, you know... Like like, like... as in..." You trail off, feeling pathetic and instantly regretting your words, and this time, Leon doesn't instantly pipe up.

He just sort of sits there in silence... for a while.

"You're very special to me, Y/N."

Oh God. Here it comes, here's where he tells you that he sees you as a friend or sibling or whatever else.

"I think you mean more to me than anybody I've ever met does. I only met you about a year ago, and yet since then, I can't even begin to count all of the things you've done for me- the ways you've made me feel... But... were you... Were you talking about dating?" He's hesitant and wildly bashful, which you can't help but be worried by. In an ideal situation, he'd just tell you he loves you, and you'd, I don't know, get married or something.

"Leon... I'm sorry I said it, it's ok that you don't feel the same... Can we just stay friends please?" Your eyes drop to the floor beside Leon, unable to even look at any part of him. You feel guilty and awkward, and regret opening your mouth two minutes ago.

You also feel Leon's gentle, large hand cupping your cheek, slowly guiding you to look back up at his kind eyes and reassuring smile. "I feel the same. I love you, I just thought I had no chance with you, you know? And I wasn't ready, but now..." His other hand cups your face, and he stoops a little to look up into your eyes, giving himself to you, "I really really want you, and I'm ready to admit it."

There's a small silence as you feel your eyes well up. Leon notices and quickly melts, face softening as you bewitch him and he sighs, giggling "Ahhhhh, look at you! You're just so amazing..." he seems stunned, gazing on at you in awe. To him, you were all 8 natural wonders of the world and more, and he decided to prove it by getting a little cocky.

"Sooo... did you wanna date me?? Maybe get on my d-"

"Yes, Leon, Yes I do want to go out with you" you breathe, quickly cutting him off before he can take your beautiful moment to any kind of low. Perhaps that was his plan. As soon as he gets your confirmation, his smile crowds his reddened cheeks and he pulls you in for a soft, lingering kiss.

At first, he's shy, cupping your face tenderly as if afraid you'll leave, but as you wrap your arms around him and pull him close, he cuddles into you. You fuse together, relishing in the others' touch and warmth, smiling into the kiss you share before pulling away to further confess your love to one another.

What a start to the morning. It's 11am, Leon Kennedy is your boyfriend, and he's impatiently waiting outside your bedroom door for you to be ready. Ready for what? Ready for a whole day of being paraded around as his partner.

Aaaand then a whole week of it...

And then a whole month...

And so on.

Funny how time flies!

Hi! Sorry I come out with fics so rarely now! I'm kinda lazy! I don't intend to do another part for this fic! But that's just cuz I think others need one a bit more desperately! I hope you liked it I really do! No ideea where I was going (I'm saying that too much lately!) Anyway hope you enjoyed cute wholesome Leon! Sorry if it didn't go as you want! Please message to ask for stuff maybe! Thanks for reading I love you bye!

#resident evil #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #re leon #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil leon #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 remake #re4 leon #leon s kennedy #hurt/comfort #fanfiction

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thosehallowedhalls · 14 days

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A Beginning

Book: Crimes of Passion

Pairing: Emma Rose (F!MC), Ruby Webster

Rating: Teen

Word count: 476

Summary: The beginning stages of Detective Rose and Doctor Webster's friendship.

A/N: Day eleven of my 30 days of drabbles. This is another one I want to expand on when the month is over. Prompt: friends from @choicesaprilchallenge24.

One

Emma looks at the body before turning to the medical examiner. "Dr. Webster, what was the cause of death? Your preliminary report said gunshot, but you registered some doubts at the time."

"As it turns out," Dr. Ruby Webster begins, "that was the cause of death, but Mr. Brown would have died regardless. He took a lethal dose of fentanyl some time prior."

"Any way to track down where it comes from?"

"I'm afraid that's your area, Detective..."

"Rose." Emma pushes her hair back and sighs. "Well, it was worth a shot. Thanks, Doctor."

"Any time. I must admit, I'm glad you noticed those doubts in the first place. Officers Holbeck and Morris seemed... less than inclined to do so."

She resists, barely, the urge to roll her eyes. "That's not a surprise. Please let me know if you find something else."

"Will do. I hope you find whoever did this to him."

Emma's eyes harden. "Oh, I will."

Two

"Medical malpractice case," Mafalda announces. "The client wants to prove that her mother's death was a direct result of Dr. Allen's negligence after surgery."

"That might be hard to prove."

"We'll need to consult with a medical examiner. The issue is that my usual guy just retired."

Emma cocks her head. "Actually... I might know someone. Ruby Webster. She works at Astoria Mortuary, I dealt with her a few times when I still worked at the precinct."

"What's she like?"

"Brilliant, perceptive, open-minded. And she seems to really care about justice for a change."

Mafalda nods. "Okay. Reach out to her. If she works out, we might have found our new consultant."

Three

"Dr. Webster!"

She turns to face her. "Detective! It's been a while."

"Yeah, I've..." Emma forces a smile as she holds out her card. "Taken a career detour. I'm with the Ginovesi Detective Agency now."

"That's a surprise. But considering you were waiting for me outside the mortuary, I assume you must have a professional reason to be here?"

"You assume correctly. A 57-year-old woman, perfectly healthy. Died three days after an appendectomy. Her daughter thinks it was malpractice."

"I'm guessing you have more details."

"I do. Any chance you'd be willing to help me out? Detective Ginovesi would reimburse you for your time, of course."

Webster looks at her watch and nods. "I want to help, but do you mind if we do it over coffee? I've been up for 18 hours."

"Sure. I owe you.”

Four

"Interesting place."

"Don't let the appearance fool you," Webster says with a laugh. "Best coffee in the city."

"Oh? I might owe you on more than one front in that case."

"You're a coffee person, too?"

"What other motivation is there to get up in the morning?"

"Exactly! I knew I liked you, Detective."

"Emma."

"Emma, then.” She smiles. “And please, call me Ruby.”

#emma rose #ruby webster #emma and ruby #crimes of passion #playchoices #30 drabbles in 30 days

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the-ace-with-spades · 1 year

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My firefighter!Bradley and naval aviator!Jake AU might be silly and a bit cracky but in all seriousness, I like to think that after they've been together for a few years and Jake retires from the Navy, they'd work together - aerial firefighting is an Actual Thing in California and I like to think they'd pair up to fly tactical for CAL FIRE or other company that is outsourcing for them.

Bradley would advance from Lieutenant to Captain and Jake would retire as a Commander, maybe, and they would both qualify to fly OV-10 Bronco.

Tactical pilots usually work with Fire Captains -- they, to simplify things, fly the plane while the captain takes account of the fire patterns on the ground (direction, spread speed, weak spots, wind changes, potential residential areas to evacuate, etc) and then fly over the flames from higher up so the captain can guide the airtanker's water drops.

I like to think it'd be Jake's idea. He'd get a promotion offer to Captain but with that promotion would come moving to Virginia and Bradley's whole life was in California - his parents, his family, twenty years of a career in SDFD, his childhood memories. So when he tells Bradley, he just kind of shuts off, congratulates him and says he's proud of him but it's clear he's given up already. He doesn't want to be bitter about it b/c Jake is obviously happy about it but it feels like an inevitable end for him.

Even if he did want to move, Jake knew that he'd most likely have to start from the bottom of the ladder if he switched to a fire department in VA and that's if at the time they'd have recruitment open. All his hard work would just be gone and he'd just have Jake to compensate for all the things he sacrificed.

And over the years they had multiple arguments about how Jake doesn't treat Bradley's job as equal to his own just because Bradley doesn't have deployments or orders that are set in stones (i.e. how the first Christmas Jake wasn't deployed, Bradley had a shift and wouldn't call out even if he could b/c his crew was counting on him or how he couldn't pick Jake up from the airport when he got stuck at five alarm fire) so just thinking about asking Bradley to leave his whole life behind to stay with Jake brings a sour taste to his mouth.

And in the end, Jake doesn't think it's worth it. Sure, his pension will be lower and he won't make it to admiral like he thought he'd when he went to the academy, but his flying time would be cut anyway and in all honesty, the thought of settling down makes him much happier than being stuck at the other end of the country with occasional video call from Bradley and no other family in his proximity. They wanted to have kids eventually and he didn't want to be a dad that just kind of comes around six weeks a year and leaves all the hard work of raising kids to his partner.

Obviously, he'd have to find some type of work and he doesn't really have much of any idea aside from that he wants to keep flying. Airline pilot seems boring since it's all so automated and private sector is kind of hit or miss and financially unstable. Flight instructor would be a good one if he was a bit more patient but he isn't.

Two weeks before he has to make a decision, Bradley volunteers to take a crew from his station to help with the wildfires up north. He kits out, Jake drives him to the station so he can take the spare fire truck without leaving his car in the parking lot for days. Jake gives him a kiss goodbye and tells him he'll visit the camp with some snacks and pick-me-up things for the crew.

For the first time since they've got together, Bradley tells him not to bother.

It's kind of heartbreaking so Jake decides to ignore it and drives up to the main camp anyway. Bradley is out on a trail with a crew so Jake just waits.

Then wind changes and he hears that Bradley's crew got cornered up the hill. The next five hours is the worst five hours of his life.

Finally, a Super Huey lands in the camp and Bradley, sooted up so badly his yellow jacket is basically black, with red, teary eyes, steps down out of the helicopter's cockpit. Doesn't even let Jake hug him because I'm covered in carcinogens, baby, you stay away until I have a shower.

He does take a shower and Jake follows him to the bathroom, not letting him out of his sight. Jake asks what happened and Bradley says something along the lines of thank god for aerial firefighting and Jake has a lightbulb moment.

The next morning, Bradley is sent out again and Jake stays in the camp, helping around as much as he can. It gets a bit dead when all the crews are sent out so to take his mind off Bradley being god knows where after he almost burned to a crisp yesterday, Jake starts to research aerial firefighting, bumps into info about tactical pilots, has another lightbulb moment.

Declines the promotion offer while still waiting on Bradley to come back to the main camp.

#hangster #ignition tag #tgm #I'm sick and too tired to tag this properly sorry #i needed to write it b4 going back to sleep #good night

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veeples · 2 months

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ockiss24 - chigisa

Another fic for @ockissweek! This time with two of my fave girls :-). title: i blinked (and suddenly i had a valentine) pairing: charlie rosewall/nagisa yogo (@lilas) rating: gen word count: ~1.6k [ao3 link!]

Charlie can admit, in the privacy of her heart, that she doesn’t know what the fuck to do about Valentine’s day.

Look, it’s never been a date that’s called for any special attention. She is a career woman first, a socially repugnant bitch second, and a total ignoramus with love last. Her experience with the holiday wasn’t one of a romantic nature. Each year, she gave her siblings each a box of nice chocolates and spent her evening in the company of whatever shitty romantic comedy she could find. For years, that was her routine. And she was quite happy for it, thank you.

That is, until she met Nagisa.

They’d met at an art gallery’s opening weekend and had bonded over some rather shoddy looking art that came off as unintentionally erotic, and not in any good way. Then they’d kept running into each other in the artist circles they both frequented but weren’t true participants in. Friendship never came naturally to Charlie, but theirs had been one she kept gravitating towards.

Friendship morphed slowly into attraction, and attraction developed into a baby crush, gasping and new but persistent. Anyone with eyes would have liked Nagisa with her generous curves and wicked smile like she always knew something you didn’t. Or, lacking that, ears to hear her tinkling laugh and lilting, light voice that bellied her alarmingly sharp wit. Nagisa is the kind of woman that’ll have Charlie counting her lucky stars that Nagisa ended up liking her back.

(That’s still something Charlie puzzles over. See: socially repugnant bitch.)

Well, that’s all great and good. She got the girl. Now she’s faced with the problem of how to keep the girl. Her humiliating inexperience with dating and woeful lack of knowledge is a familiar and irritating hindrance. What does she do? They hadn’t been together that long – six months – so what would be the most appropriate Valentine’s date for them?

Dinner was a sort of option, albeit a dull one. Most nice places were fully booked for the night as well, so Charlie would be left with lower level scraps. She’d rather not spend the night fighting for a dingy little table at the Chilis, thanks. Scratch that.

Movies were also common enough. That might be fine if Charlie or Nagisa actually had any interest in the current showings. When Charlie tested those waters, she found the interest from her girlfriend tepid, at best.

(“Oh, February showings are almost as bad as January ones, Charlie. Especially this early into the month.” Nagisa had said after one brief, unimpressed glance at the listings. “There is a fun little romcom I think you’ll enjoy coming out at the end of the month, how’s that?”)

So that was also off the table.

Simple gifts were also aggravatingly difficult to navigate. Everything seemed too… tacky. Overwrought. Who needed a giant stuffed teddy bear crowding their space? No one. Or a cheap little mug filled with cheaper chocolate? Gross. Jewelry and lingerie were too advanced and too personal – Charlie blushed awfully red just thinking about choosing a frilly thing for Nagisa to wear – and Charlie doesn’t want to look, gods, desperate .

She is, of course. She is terribly desperate to prove to Nagisa that she is a worthwhile girlfriend worth the months Nagisa spent pining for her, flirting with her, only to be met with the frustration of Charlie’s absolute ignorance to all of it.

She just didn’t want it to be so painfully obvious.

Ah, fuck.

Love is really fucking hard.

Valentine’s day descends faster than she would like and the only thing Charlie secures is a decent bouquet of roses and an hour away from work to surprise Nagisa at lunch.

Despite the anxiety that this plan is supremely lame, Charlie did her best to dress herself well enough to impress. She put on the trousers that accentuated the length of her legs, chose a lip color Nagisa had once commented made her look “very yummy”, and spritzed herself with the expensive sandalwood perfume she’d worn for their first date. For a bit of confidence.

She needs every ounce she can manage.

Her hands keep clenching the bouquet in harsh, nervous spasms, which makes the cellophane crinkle noisily as she makes her way to Nagisa’s office. The walk feels a bit like the times she’d been sent to the headmaster’s office in her youth. There’s an overwhelming sense of foreboding, like she knows she’s already fucked this all up and all she’s got to look forward to is a fitting punishment for being a lackluster girlfriend.

Oh gods. Oh gods.

She can’t fucking do this.

There’s no time to formulate a last minute escape plan because Nagisa spots her through the window. Her round face instantly brightens with joy, eyes crinkling and mouth spreading into a wide grin. As always, that sends Charlie’s heart into a helpless, wild flutter. No one’s ever looked at her with such excitement like Nagisa has. No one’s ever looked at her like her being there has made their day better.

Nagisa is already standing up from her chair when Charlie steps inside her cramped little office. She holds out the bouquet in front of her like a shield and clears her throat discreetly.

“I see you’re– Here.” Fuck, bad start. Nagisa’s smile only grows in amusement, but she is thankfully patient with her floundering. “I mean, ah, I’ve brought you flowers. As you can see them.”

“I do, and they’re so very lovely,” Nagisa coos and steps out from behind her desk. “And whatever are they for, Charlie?”

Ah, she’s not playing nice then. Sometimes Nagisa will pity her and her apparent fondness for tripping over herself from her own emotional stupidity.

Not now, she supposes.

“For– you know, Valentine’s day. I wanted to take you out to lunch.” Charlie says, taking a small step forward and is disappointed when Nagisa takes the flowers from her hands, because it means now her hands have nothing to do. They clench spasmodically at her sides. “I have a table reserved for us at that restaurant that you like around the corner. The Thai place? It’s for a whole hour, and I’ve turned my phone off so there’s no chance someone will bother me.”

Nagisa hums in interest as she closes the space between them, but makes no effort in stopping Charlie’s sputtering over explanation. Nagisa’s hands settle on Charlie’s shoulders, stroking the silky fabric idly, her dark and lovely eyes sparkling and clear with her affection. This has the effect of making her brain flare up like an overheated filament before dying.

“A whole hour? Will you survive without checking your phone every ten seconds?” Nagisa says in that familiar teasing tone that Charlie hates to say she loves since she’s usually at the end of it.

“Yes,” Charlie says, a little too fast. Nagisa’s eyebrows quirk in mute disbelief. “Yes, of course! I won’t even have it on the table.” When Nagisa only stares at her, Charlie fumbles, panicked. “Do you not want to do lunch? We don’t have to. We can– I can find something, give me a second–”

Finally, feeling merciful, Nagisa cuts her off by pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth.

“Love, aren’t you the cutest? Do I make you so nervous?”

Heat flares up with the strength of an inferno up her neck. Charlie blushes viciously and gapes like an idiot. “I– Perhaps! Is it so bad I want to impress you? This is our first Valentine’s. Of many, I hope.”

“Oh, how many?”

Kill her.

“Ah– As many as you want to give me. You can have all of mine.”

Killing her would be a kindness.

“How romantic! Charlie, you’ll have me blushing with declarations like that.”

Nagisa is certainly not blushing. She does look as pleased as the cat who's got the canary.

“Yes, well, maybe I’ll come up with more life altering declarations at the restaurant. We should really go, I don’t want to waste our lunch hour,” Charlie says in an obvious bid for retreat from saying all of that . “So shall we?”

Nagisa laughs and kisses her again. This time, she lingers. Her hand moves from Charlie’s shoulder to cup her jaw. She is so warm pressed up against Charlie’s front, all soft curves and softer touches and smelling sweetly of roses. Charlie relaxes quickly into the kiss, tension and anxiety rolling off her, her heart slowing from its rabbit-fast pounding, and curls her hand around one full hip.

Charlie likes her so much. Even when Nagisa loves nothing more than to delight in teasing her painful awkwardness, Charlie feels it is from a place of pure fondness. Becoming such a damn fool wasn’t something she envisioned, but it’s a fine exchange to stay in Nagisa’s company.

“Nagisa,” Charlie breaks away from the kiss with a contented smile. “Lunch?”

“Mmm. I guess.” Nagisa pokes out her lip in a dramatic pout. Charlie notes, with a hot curl of satisfaction, that her plum lipstick has smudged. “Yes, yes, let’s go, I think that curry I like will be perfect for today.”

They leave the office together, huddled close against the biting February wind. Charlie’s hand pressed against Nagisa’s back, Nagisa’s cheek laid delicately against her arm. They spend the hour in the cozy heat of the restaurant, laughing and holding hands across the table. Not once does Charlie think of her phone tucked away in her purse or the work she’ll have waiting for her.

As far as a proper first Valentine’s day goes, Charlie couldn’t ask for any better. Holding Nagisa, being kissed by Nagisa – this is already more than she’s ever dared to hope for herself.

#ockiss24 #oc kiss week #veep writing #oc: charlie rosewall #nagisa yogo #ship: chigisa #this fic came to me soooooooo easily it was v fun for me to write

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rallamajoop · 10 months

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Theme, character, and a few more thoughts on the RE4 Remake

So, having played the Resident Evil 4 remake, I had a ton of fun – but in the end, I think it worked better for me when they remade this game as Resident Evil Village instead.

As every gaming outlet on the net has already told you, there’s a lot to recommend this title. The gameplay is terrific, new!Leon is still stupidly endearing to me, and there are so many little details in his character animation that I love to bits (seriously, he and Ashley actually managed to make me feel guilty about making them run back through the pouring rain hunting that one treasure on the map I’d missed – it’s that good).

But story-wise, I can only wish they’d had the guts to remake this thing a little harder. And while I have sunk a truly stupid number of hours into getting every achievement in RE8, RE4 seems to have tailored its own post-game ecosystem specifically to turn me away. And that's just a little disappointing.

The full RE4 experience is roughly twice as long as Village, but it feels like it has about half the actual plot. Most of what happens once you leave the village area feels like padding, the game spinning its wheels to fill in time. The lore makes less sense the more I try to get my head around it. Parts like Ada’s role feel so unfinished I can only hope there’s more coming in DLC. And despite token attempts to link events thematically to RE2, the result probably works better if you haven’t actually played the RE2 remake lately.

And while you can always say, “C’mon, it’s RE4! No-one remembers that game for the plot!” I’m left going, well, sure, but they remade Leon’s story in RE2 so well! And everything that left me wanting here was stuff they did just as well in RE8 – which was already basically a stealth remake of RE4. Was it so unreasonable to hope they could pull off the same here?

But enough hand waving. Let’s talk specifics. I’ve already talked Luis. So it’s time to talk Leon and Ashley.

I have so many mixed feelings about RE4-remake!Leon. So many.

In so many ways, he just works. He’s not the same Leon of RE2, but he’s changed in ways that make sense given several years of special ops training. He's taken several levels in badass and he's a lot more jaded, but at heart, he’s still a sweetheart who does this work because he wants to help people. And yet people who know him still call him ‘rookie’, still insinuate he hasn’t changed, and it’d be nice if that was something the game was more interested in exploring.

But while RE2 was inarguably the biggest day of his life to date, RE4 ultimately feels like just another day at the office for new!Leon: beat the bad guy, save the girl, fail to figure out what the fuck Ada’s deal is, go home. Nothing that happens to him in RE4 feels personal. Everything that’s changed him between RE2 and here has already happened, off-screen, and I can’t help but wish we were telling one of those stories instead.

It's not for lack of trying. RE4 opens on a heck of a thesis-statement about Leon: what he’s been through since RE2, hints of conflict with his current employer (“I was ‘asked’ later to join a top-secret government program. Not that I had a choice. The training, the punishing missions, almost killed me.”) There’s also one hell of a mission-statement about his feelings on the Raccoon City incident: “If I could just forget what happened that night, the pain, even for a second, this time, it can be different.”

That’s great as an opener! First question: different how?

What difference here is worth celebrating? This time Ada got away, blatantly alive and with the prize in hand, not even pretending she wasn’t using you? This time you got to save the little-infected-blonde-girl (who-was-only-involved-because-of-her-parents’-career-choices) yourself, instead of Claire doing all the real work? This time you rode out the explosion with only one other survivor for company instead of two? You still saw more people die than you saved! You still left a whole infected-and-dying population behind when you left! Seriously, what’s supposed to be different here?

The game seems to want us to believe that saving Ashley is enough to make it "different." On my second playthrough, I even caught Leon repeating that line, ‘it has to be different this time!’ as he carries her into Luis’ lab. But this doesn’t land for me, because – again – Leon got out of Raccoon City with Claire and Sherry. Claire didn’t need a whole lot of rescuing (much as I gripe about her story, she objectively achieved a whole lot more than Leon did), but she certainly appreciated his help. RE4 even shows us a shot of them all walking off into the sunrise together in its Raccoon City flashback.

The lore surrounding this franchise suggests that post RE2, Leon becomes almost family to Sherry ‒ you'd really think she'd count. I’m sure there’s an angle you can find somewhere where Leon would feel like saving Ashley is ‘different’ enough ‒ guilt isn’t a highly logical emotion ‒ but it’s really not coming through for me. And that makes the game's whole thesis statement feel awfully hollow.

Some other token thematic attempts are made: on the boat with Ada, Leon says, “you try to save one person, you get a hundred more killed.” Well, in the process of saving Ashley, they got Luis, Mike, and both those Spanish cops from the opening sequence killed. Saddler and his cult do get wiped out in a way more definitive way than Umbrella did in RE2 ‒ and that surely saves more lives in the long run than saving just Ashley ever could ‒ but that doesn’t seem to be what "has to be different" is going for. This is a lot like my issues with how Jill’s PTSD was dealt with in RE3 – we’re just vaguely waving at a past conflict as a way to lend nebulous weight to the present, and hoping the audience will fill in the blanks without further prompting. This is not how successful theming works!

Really, what makes this so disappointing to me is that it’s not like Capcom has never done PTSD-backstory well. See, as exhibit A: Resident Evil 8. Game opens with multiple reminders that Ethan is still dealing with trauma from RE7, the feeling that he ‘never really left the Baker’s basement’ – and as the story progresses, we learn that in a very real sense, he never did.

The reveal is the answer to a mystery that's been teased repeatedly since RE7, and coming to terms with it is a vital part of Ethan’s character arc. Though plenty is still left to the audience’s imagination, the pieces are all there. Ethan’s no longer in denial about how much his experience has changed him, but what matters to him hasn’t changed. If he’d come out of the Baker’s basement still human, he’d never have survived long enough to save Rose ‒ hell, there'd have been no Rose at all. There’s no going home again for Ethan, but he’s at peace with that. It’s really that simple: give us specifics, and specifics that make sense.

Ultimately, I think trying to frame RE4 as RE2-but-different was a mistake. The original RE4 wasn’t conceived that way, and the remake hasn’t been remade hard enough to make it so.

That doesn’t mean there’s no Leon-centric thematic material to explore. That opening also sets out a wealth of great potential surrounding Leon’s ‘not that I had a choice’ position. Build on the conflict between the Leon who’s out here trying to save a girl’s life, vs the Leon who’s out here trying to protect US political interests. Play with the idea that he’s still being used by the US, just as Ada was using him back in RE2! Let the enemies point out that Leon is as much a puppet of the US administration as the ganados are puppets of Saddler! Fucking do something with Krauser: one of the very same people who put Leon through all that ‘training that almost killed him’ has turned around and decided that their job is a sucker’s bet ‒ that should be a thematic goldmine! And then let Leon turn around and tell them all to go to hell. It’s all right there, c’mon!

The game toys with the question of whether Leon’s changed since RE2 – Krauser says he hasn’t, Ada says he hasn’t – heck, even Luis’ final words, a guy can change, right? are poking around the edges of similar themes. Leon’s problem back in RE2 was never a failure to save people, it’s getting too caught up in other people’s power plays to make any real difference himself. Is that still true here? It's really not clear.

Similarly, it’s so easy to imagine Leon was chosen for the job in RE4 because he’s got such a hero-complex he’s obviously going to work hardest to keep Ashley safe – because no, Leon may have taken a dozen levels in badass, but at his core, he hasn’t changed. But I’m pretty sure he’s going to be okay with that, just as long as he’s changed enough to be able to get the job done.

And think how much more it should give Leon and Ashley to bond over too, when… oh, right. Time to talk about Ashley.

The general buzz about remake!Ashley has been overwhelmingly positive. She’s so much better than the infamously-annoying original!Ashley, she feels like a real person now, people legitimately care about protecting her, and so on. And I sure as hell don’t want to tell anyone they shouldn’t like new-Ashley. She’s not annoying. I didn’t dislike her as a character. But the longer I spent with her in this game (and you spend more time with her than another other non-Leon character), the less she felt like an actual person to me, and the more glaring it was just how little I knew about her.

Here’s what we do learn about Ashley. She’s a college student, apparently 20 years old (she doesn’t really look that old, but what the hell, there are 20yos who look like Ashley, let’s not get stuck on this one). Her father is the president of the United States. She develops quite the crush on Leon over the course of the game (and who can blame her?) Leon handles this as deftly as you could ask for under the circumstances – he doesn’t want to lead her on, but he also doesn’t want to shut her down any harder than he has to. Ashley is understandably terrified, but coping with it with enough composure to keep her head most of the time, and the one time she does freak out and run off, it leads to one of my favourite scenes in the game – where Leon comforts her, and gets to show his gentler side.

Over the course of the game, she gains a certain level of confidence – in herself, and in Leon’s ability to protect her. All that talk about being his partner and wanting to become an agent like him is probably just her crush showing, but again, Leon treads a careful line to validate her as much as possible without ever really saying yes.

And this is all fine, but nothing really changes in Leon’s feelings about Ashley as they spend more time together. He’s 100% there to protect her before they met, and after spending all that time with her, sure, same deal. That’s his job. Nor does Ashley herself really get to change much. In her early chapters, she's already capable of smashing a window to save Leon from a burning building. By the end, she's... still completely helpless to save herself without him. Nothing really pays off.

Alright, now let me tell you about Ashley.

Ashley is a fucking political prisoner, a pawn to people who see her only as a means to an end, and yet the notion she’s in a situation any bigger than herself never enters the picture. At an age when a girl should be earning some independence, she’s going to be officially pigeonholed as her father’s daughter in the minds of the entire world. For four to eight years of the past and/or future, she’s going to be one of the most important and over-protected people on the planet. And yet, within the last day or two, all that security failed. People she and her father trusted – heck, that the whole US government administration trusted – betrayed them. She’s been kidnapped out of the blue, presumably bundled into a plane and flown across the world to some hick-village in rural Spain.

Surely Ashley should have some kind of opinion on all that, right?

There are all sorts of plausible reactions someone might have to this kind of situation. She could blame herself for not taking security more seriously. She could blame her security team for letting her down; her dad for putting her in this position, the possibilities go on. The game does vaguely wave in the direction of Ashley having (reasonable) trust issues when Leon first appears, given she attacks him with a candlestick and runs off, but then she, well, sees some ganados out the window, and everything is forgotten? It’s all over very quickly. Her only opinion on her situation is that she doesn't want to be taken over by a parasite. Such character!

Later in the game, we discover that Krauser was personally involved in her abduction. Ashley never gets to have an opinion on this. Did she know Krauser personally, or was he just pulling strings from a distance? Wouldn’t she have questions for Leon about his relationship with Krauser? Wouldn’t this have been a great opportunity to expand on Leon’s barely-a-footnote history with Krauser and that whole messed up political conspiracy ‒ even to talk about why Leon was trusted enough to be sent on this mission alone? Well, too bad – we’re on the back foot of the Ashley-two-step throughout both Krauser’s appearances, so Ashley’s not around. And Krauser’s own motivations are apparently no more complicated than "wants to be more macho than everyone else." What a damn waste.

Beyond the initial section set in the village itself, it’s disappointing how much of the plot of RE4 basically comes down to: Ashley gets captured, Leon rescues her, rinse and repeat. There are variations, sure (Ashley freaks out and runs off, Leon has to find her, Leon gets trapped, Ashley has to free him) – but the overall pattern gets pretty monotonous. Ashley frees Leon, then immediately gets captured. Leon tries to rescue her, but fails, and is thrown down a hole. Leon almost catches up with Ashley, but she’s being moved to the island. Leon finds Ashley on the island and rescues her, finally! Ashley swiftly gets captured again. Leon rescues her, again. But don’t you dare let Ashley get carried off by one of those goons out of sequence, that’s an insta-fail state. What, you think this is a situation where the bad guys can just carry Ashley away with impunity? Ha.

This is what I really mean when I say it feels like this game is just spinning its wheels for so much of its runtime. There is some additional plot surrounding Luis to break things up a bit, and a few allusions to the idea Ada’s up to something, somewhere, with a grand total of 4 named boss-villains popping up to monologue and/or fight you. But they're all kept pretty rigorously segregated from one another, like cast members who will no longer appear in the same scenes for contractual reasons. 'Wants power' or 'is under mind control' is as complex as the villainous motivations get.

The villains of RE2, 7 and 8 all had their own relationships, conflicts and internal power struggles, all presented for you in cutscenes and dialogue, and the result created some of the most memorable characters of the whole franchise. In RE4, you're lucky if you glimpse a vague hint of history in a document somewhere. C’mon, game, you’ve put Sargent Rambo and Midget Napoleon on the same team, and I don’t even get to see how much they must hate each other? That’s just not fair!

Ada’s role in this game feels like such a missed opportunity too. The final note she and Leon end on in RE2 could have gone in so many directions (how much did she genuinely care about him? Was she just bluffing by lowering her gun?) if they’d only had the sense to play into it. But RE4 seems to have picked up the tune a few verses earlier, back at ‘Ada’s evil and using Leon without a care’, and just keeps on repeating that until the scene fades out. Leon gets no answers. Maybe Ada sees him as slightly more than a useful tool, but who’d know? Ada’s just… there. Remember Ada? She’s a thing that happens to Leon sometimes.

But there was still the potential to do so much more. Tell me more about Ashley, to begin with! What’s her relationship with her father like? What’s she studying at uni? How well did she know her security team? Does she even know what country she’s in? Let her and Leon bond over their positions as human pawns in political schemes so much bigger than them as people. Let someone wonder if it’s better Ashley dies than comes home infected. Let the goal of saving-Ashley come into conflict with the goal of defeating-Saddler! Let Leon question his superiors' priorities! It's all right there to play with, I promise you!

Heck, let Hunnigan (or some other official voice in Leon’s earpiece) disagree with him at some point. Delve deeper into the scale and implications of Krauser’s betrayal! Contrast him with Luis – they’re on virtually opposite tracks as people who’ve switched sides, but they’ve both made more meaningful decisions about who to work for than Leon ever has. Let me feel all the different interests at conflict here – between Luis, Ada, the US government, Krauser’s rebellion, and Saddler’s cult, there should be enough of them. Let Leon question what he’s doing there – saving one girl or saving the whole US administration, but ultimately just saving one girl. And if you still want to tie it to RE2, it doesn’t have to be about it being different, it can be about Leon feeling like he’s made a difference this time. There’s got to be something you can find here that’ll resonate.

Going by the general reception to the game, these don’t seem to be issues that have bothered the masses. Given how revered RE4 is in gaming history, I can well believe there was real resistance at Capcom HQ about to trying to rework it more than a relative minimum, without trying to build any real thematic weight into what originally worked as a fairly cartoony rescue-the-princess caper. It’s still got great gameplay and some lovely character moments – I wouldn’t dream of debating that. But as a whole, RE4 felt thematically empty in a way I didn’t get from RE’s 7, 8 or Leon’s story from the remake of 2. If anything, it reminded me more of my problems with RE3 or Claire’s story in 2 – there are ideas here, but what they add up to is less than the sum of its parts. And that’s a disappointing feeling to come away with.

The remake still has a lot going for it. But remade a little harder, I can’t help but feel it could’ve been so much more.

#Resident Evil 4 #Leon Kennedy #Ashley Graham #Ada Wong #Resident Evil 2 #Resident Evil #meta #RE reviews

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years

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Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Three. "Getting Closer." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Hey, hey, hey!

New chapter is here! Masterlist is here! Soooo I know, I know, almost two months with no new chapter, terrible of me, eh? But I got busy! Two year anniversary of this blog and my writing career, hitting 1,500 followers, doing a giveaway to celebrate and writing 15 some odd fics in like less than a month will do that.

I appreciate the patience and I hope this 6K update is worth the wait! I am so excited to be getting back into this, I really love this chapter and the direction this is going. Just as the title suggests our triad is getting closer, more is happening and I hope you all eat this up! Let’s not linger any longer, here we fucking go!

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Rating. SFW. Length 6K. Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Ray Valentine X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings. Alcohol Consumption. Smoking. Teasing. Flirting. Brief Mention Of Murder.Kissing. Not Much Else.

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It’s not like you cared that much.

Or at least that is what you tried to tell yourself anyway.

It was hard to remain convinced of that though when they came into the club again that following weekend and that wide grin spread across your face upon seeing them. You were surprised but you shouldn’t have been, they said they would come back and true to their word they did. You had been at work around two hours and yet you found yourself fucking with your hair a little, eyes dropping down to your outfit, smoothing down your skirt, concerned that you still looked okay before you stopped. What were you doing? You were being ridiculous, they were your customers, nothing more, besides that they are together.

You need to stop. Both the weird thoughts of wanting and the insecurity.

This was you we were talking about here and you are hot as fuck. You know that, you put in a ton of effort before leaving the house each day for work, looking good was part of your work, the better you look the better the tips after all. You shake off the current line of thought and decide to do another lap around to check on your other tables before making your way to them so you don’t seem overeager.

You come up from behind, Tiffany was leaning against Chucky, he had an arm around her waist, they looked so good together like this. You choose when there was a lull in their conversation to greet them. “Hi! Hope you two haven’t been waiting too long.”

They both seemingly perked up at hearing your voice, turned and you could see what they were wearing better. Did they ever look bad? Her in something short and tight and him in that space between casual and formal that he looked way too comfortable and right in.

You wondered what they looked like outside of the setting of your work, when they weren’t dressed up for a night out. Either way their attire wasn’t helping these weird feelings you kept trying to push out of your mind.

“Tiff look, it’s our favourite boy scout.” Chucky said easily and Tiffany gave him a gentle elbow to the ribs as her expression shifted to mild annoyance, taking what he said as if he was being a dick, “Hey c’mon now, that’s mean! She looks great.”

You laughed, resting your drink tray on your hip. You corrected her, “No, no it’s a call back to something I said when we first met, he’s being cute.”

Chucky rubbed at his side jokingly as if what she did actually hurt, a grin as he looked rather pleased with how you’d jumped to defend him. “Yeah, hear that? I’m being cute.”

“Mmm real sorry for jumping to conclusions.” She said in a somewhat apologetic tone and he sighed as if he was doing her a big favour when he said, “I supposed I can forgive you.”

“How generous of you.” She rolled her eyes fondly and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You enjoyed this, seeing how they were together, they were obviously a great fit. You liked the air about them and the banter they shared.

You eye the light imprint of plum coloured lipstick she left behind on his face for a little too long as you ask with a smile, “So what can your loyal boy scout get you both?”

They order a couple of cocktails and you go get them and the night presses on. It’s a really good Saturday by all accounts. You get them more drinks and talk casually in between your other tables. You find yourself unable to stop yourself from constantly looking at them, stealing glances at them to see them drinking, laughing, talking, flirting, dancing and kissing. Whenever you catch those moments of deeper intimacy you do your best to force yourself to look away, you don’t want to and yet you do at the same time, something aches in your chest when you do.

It’s only once you had bid them farewell and they left, that the club had closed down and you were walking to the train station that you realised the feeling that had settled into your chest was longing.

You would see them being physically close and you were fucking pining, God, how pathetic could you get?

They were customers at your job and again they had each other! Who were you? Just some fucking waitress, one that they were probably just being nice to, maybe they tipped everyone this well? Were they this nice to everyone? It might be just who they are as people. You could barely focus on what Jackson was saying on the platform as you waited for your trains, you were too in your own head. You gave a small wave as he got onto his train, a nod and a promise to see him tomorrow.

You wished you could be part of what they had but that was impossible. You made a small disgusted sound to yourself as you boarded the train, you needed to get over this.

That night at home your bed feels lonely for the first time in a long time.

Unbeknownst to you the pair of them talked about you on their own trip home that night.

The club you worked at was a good time, reasonably priced as far as some other clubs in town go, a good atmosphere and better drinks but the real find, the best part? Was you.

They liked you. They really fucking liked you.

You were cute and fun, funny, attentive and while they were aware part of it could be simply because of you just doing your job but it didn’t read that way. The pair thought themselves able to judge people pretty well and there was some quality to you that read as being genuine in your care and interest of them. There was a possibility that you were just the best actor that they have ever seen but it was far more likely that you saw something in them the same way that they saw something in you.

Not to mention the way you had been able to help lead them to some new victims and potentially could, to many more.

They knew you’d been looking too, and had caught you stealing quite a few glances their way tonight. They definitely needed to do something about this.

The next week passes by the same as always and you try not to linger on the thought of them and you manage to fall into a groove with your work and mostly stick to that. Until the weekend rolls around again.

You expected to see them. Maybe that was stupid, no one said that they had to come in every single weekend, hell they didn’t even say: “See you next weekend!”

So why did you keep looking to the doorway like they might come through at any moment?

Point is they didn’t come on Friday or Saturday or Sunday and that was fine, rather you try to convince yourself it is. You’ve been trying to convince yourself of a lot of things lately it seemed.

You didn’t want to go home right away but for once all your coworkers were busy and had plans after work. You are really hungry and decide that fuck it, you can go get a little take out for yourself before going home. It’s early February, late and cold as hell and worse still it is pelting down with rain.

You are in the mood for one thing in particular and there is only one place to fill such a craving, you rush to your favourite diner about two blocks over. You shake off your umbrella with a shiver before coming inside, it’s a near immediate relief, the diner is as warm and comforting as always.

The place is slightly rough around the edges but the food is amazing, prices are stupid cheap, it’s open all night and right between your work and the train station. You walk up to the counter and sit down on one of the stools at the bar, a waitress with black hair that has served you countless times gave you a smile and held one finger up to show she’d be with you in a minute.

You give a small nod to show you were fine with waiting and glanced over the menu briefly. You already knew what you wanted but still, you never know what might catch your fancy at the moment.

She comes over and asks, “Hiya hon. What you lookin’ for tonight?”

You push the menu aside as you ask, “Can I get an order of fries and a slice of the birthday cake special?” She doesn’t bother writing it down and tells you it’ll just be out in just a minute.

Five minutes later the takeout boxes were bagged and you slide the money and an ample tip across to the waitress who takes it gratefully. You thank her and tell her to have a good night and she tells you the same.

You walk over to the door, umbrella in hand and you hesitate, not wanting to brave the cold again so you take a moment, a deep breath before you are going to go back out and if you didn’t do that you wouldn’t have heard something that turned out to be vitally important.

Two very familiar voices. One rougher telling some story in a clearly jokey tone and the other more feminine and laughing along and asking, “Uh-huh and then what happened?”

You look over your shoulder and see that the duo you’d been getting to know and had been invading your thoughts constantly were here. They were seated in a cosy looking booth in the back corner, the place was mostly empty and their voices carried easily in the space, reaching you no problem. You smile and without thinking about it you walk over and say, “No wonder I didn’t see you this weekend, you’ve been holding up here the whole time.”

Tiffany looked up at you first, with a wide smile as she said, “Oh my God, hi!”

“Hey.” You said with a short nod to them both and Chucky asked, “What are you doing here?”

You give a small shrug and hold up the bag as you said, “Work is done for the night and I was hungry, stopped by here for a little take out.”

“Well it’s good to see you.” Tiffany said and it sounded sincere, they looked happy to see you. So happy that Chucky said, “Why don’t you sit down and join us?”

You weren’t expecting that. We're just going to come over and talk for a minute before facing the rain and going home to eat your food and sleep. You are a tad reluctant and so you say, “Oh I dunno-”

And they both press the issue, Tiffany asking sweetly, “Awe please?”

Chucky said after her, tone matching as he asked, “Yeah, please?”

A beat as you really consider it and he asks with a thumb over his shoulder to the window being pelted with rain, “Are you really in that much of a rush to get back out in that shit?”

He makes a great point.

You are off tomorrow too, Sunday is bleeding into Monday, you got nothing to do and nowhere to be so you say fuck it to yourself and say with a laugh, “Alright, alright you wore me down, I’ll sit.”

Tiffany made a small excited sound and Chucky shifted over on the booth seat so you could sit down comfortably and you slid in next to him.

They both still looked good, not quite as good as they did out at the club but still way too attractive.

You asked what they had gotten up to and they told you Friday was dinner out, Saturday was a small get together with some friends. Sunday they just stayed in and took it easy, a real lazy day, this was the first time they got out all day. The pair were having some breakfast food, nothing like eggs, bacon, toast and hash browns with fresh fruit past midnight. Once again they are showing you they have good taste.

They asked how work was this weekend and gave a brief apology for not stopping in, to which you waved off with a scoff, “Oh God it’s fine, I mean I practically live at the club but that doesn’t mean that you should.”

You appreciate the fact they apologised anyway though and you respond to their original question saying, “It was a fine weekend, busy, good money but not as good as it could have been.”

Tiffany had picked up her coffee cup and asked, “What coulda made it better?”

You were starting to unpack your take out as you said teasingly, “Obviously if my two best customers didn’t abandon me it would have gone from fine to great.”

A small chuckle from Chucky as he asked, “You miss the extra tip money that much?”

“More the interesting conversation. I can only potlietly smile and bat away the guys tryna fuck their waitress so many times before it truly becomes dull.” It wasn’t a lie, at least a couple times a night you’d get guys who would turn to you when they struck out too many times with single girls at the club.

“That a big problem for you?” He asked, adjusting in his seat, facing you better, his body language seemed a little more tense, was that concern? Was HE concerned about you?

You fight back the urge to grin at the thought, you push it down, mentally telling yourself to not get your hopes up.

“Not that bad. Nothing I can’t handle.” You look between him and Tiffany who didn’t seem fully convinced until you said, “Really, I mean it, promise!”

They both seemed to relax a touch at that and let it go, you got the sense they wanted to say more but instead Tiffany asked, “So what’d you get?”

You say, “Fries and the birthday cake special.” You pop open the containers and show them the crispy and seasoned fries and the vanilla funfetti cake with the sky blue buttercream icing, decorated further with looping swoops of bright pink on the sides and edges.

“That your usual go to?” He asked and you nodded as you picked up a fork, “Yeah, what can I say, I’m a sucker for salty and sweet together late at night. It’s not an all the time thing but it's nice to indulge every now and again right?”

“More than nice, I’d say it’s necessary.” Tiffany said and you asked, “Yeah you think so?”

“I know so, you gotta give into those urges or you’ll go crazy.” The smile she wore when she said that made that same warmth flicker in your chest and Chucky gave her a knowing look, must be some shared joke or reference. You had no idea how long they’ve been together but clearly it’s been a while for them to develop this particular brand of closeness.

“You seem to know what you are talking about. You indulge often?” You ask in a rather playful tone and Chucky nearly snorts into his coffee before saying, “More than you know.”

She flips him off with a sweet smile and he simply grins and throws her a wink in response. You look back down to your plate as you pick up a fry and you ask, “So are you both native to Chicago?”

That gets a laugh from her, “Does it sound like it?” Fair, that is on you.

He fills in the blank as he says, “We’re from Hackensack, you know, in New Jersey?”

Oh wow, decent jump, that is easily a twelve hour drive straight. You get a dumb thought and go with the urge, “Ahh that is where they invented hackie sack, right?”

He looks unimpressed as if he’s definitely heard that one before and you giggle from his expression before going on and saying, “Oh wait. No, it’s it the home of cock and ball torture! That’s right! I always get that and hackie sack confused.”

Tiffany laughed loudly at that, almost choking on her bite of toast and Chucky leaned forward, closer, slightly amused and he asked, “Okay, okay, and where are you from?”

You tell him before taking a bite of your cake, it’s as delicious as always, rich and moist and familiar, hits the spot perfectly.

He thinks for a moment, clearly trying to think of his own joke but he comes up empty and Tiffany touches his forearm as she asks sweetly, “Don’t think too hard, I know this place allows smoking but I think they mean cigarettes.”

Fuck, she was funny. You liked seeing her tease him, it was sweet, fond. You watch as he jerks his arm away telling her with the smallest amount of bite, “Don’t patronise me.”

“Stop making it so easy and sure, I’ll give up the habit.” She spears a piece of cantaloupe on her sharp nail and brings it up to her mouth and you make yourself look down at your own food again, you need to stop staring at her lips.

“So why’d you leave?” You asked.

He was dipping the end of a piece of toast into his egg yolk, you notice that he likes his eggs over easy while she prefers her scrambled with what looks like chives.

He responds, “Sometimes you just need to get away.”

She covers her mouth with her hand, not wanting to be rude as she was eating, “What about you?”

You shug and were honest as you said, “Same thing. Needed a change.”

“And what do you think?” He was pulling out his pack of cigarettes from his jacket and you asked, “What?”

Tiffany gestures that she wants one and he holds it so she can snag one as she asks, “Was it a good change?”

You smiled and said. “Yeah. Best one I think I ever made.”

“Gotta say I like it so far too.” He admitted as he held out his lighter for Tiffany to light up and she agreed with that.

The conversation continued on, a few cups of coffee and a couple of hours later the rain had stopped and you were all leaving. The three of you stepped out back onto the damp street somewhere well after three in the morning. You had gotten some coffees yourself and the pair had paid from them on their bill while you were in the bathroom and you were thanking them again for it.

“It was only a few bucks, don’t worry about it honey.” Tiffany assured and Chucky nodded, “Yeah, you can get us back next time.”

Honey. Next time. She called you honey and there was going to be a next time. You liked that thought a little too much. You play it cool and tell them you’ll remember that. It’s time for you to part ways and Chucky told you, “Have a good night, eh?”

“Yeah, get home safe!” Tiffany called out with a wave as they headed in the opposite direction and you told them, “Same for you two! Bye!”

You come away with a better understanding of them and you walk home with a big smile, trying not to hold out too much hope and remind yourself that you shouldn’t be too excited. They were just nice, just friendly, right?

You see Tiffany a few days later. She came into your work. She had gone out for dinner with some friends and thought of you and brought you her leftovers. “That isn’t weird right? My friends got this appetiser for the table and I didn’t have my share and didn’t finish my fries so it’s not like I actually took any bites out of it.”

You were already smiling as you listened to her and she continued, “I thought of you and how you might appreciate the snack.”

She thought of you. Brought food for you and you almost honestly swoon. You take out the offered box, “Thank you so much! You are so sweet. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Awe stop, it’s nothing.” She tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear and you wished you could have done that for her. You tell her, “It’s not nothing and seriously, thanks.”

She left shortly after that, you ate at the bar perched on a stool and the food was still warm and tasted so good. Logan tried to get one of your fries and you smacked his hand, “Did I say you could have one?”

He shook his hand as if you had seriously hurt him, over exaggerating the pain, “Ow, no, you didn’t. Where the fuck did you get this anyway? We don’t have a kitchen here and you’ve been here the whole night.”

You picked up another fry and popped it into your mouth before saying, “Did you not see her? One of my sweet regulars came in and brought this for me.”

“Oooh who?” He asked with a big smile and you said, “You’ve probably seen her around, tall, gothy kind of look, totally stunning.”

“You mean the blonde bombshell who’s been splashing cash like crazy for you? She’s with that dude right? The one who wanted your name?”

You give a single nod, “Ding, ding, ding. Correct on all counts.”

“Well lucky you. I won’t steal anymore, you enjoy your treat.” Someone gestured for his attention and he made a move to go serve them and you told him, “Thanks, I will.”

And enjoy it thoroughly you did.

The next weekend they both come in again.

You don’t play as coyly, don’t fuck around. You are attentive, almost like you can’t stay away, you spend a lot of time with them while still not neglecting your other tables. You get them whatever they need, a few drinks, some conversation and jokes and definitely a little flirting.

You requested a song Tiffany wanted and Jackson of course played it no problem. You were bringing another round of drinks and found Chucky at their table alone. You set the cocktails down as you say, “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He said simply before taking a drag of his current cigarette and you ask, “So tell me are you a menthol man?”

That gets him to laugh on the exhale, “Oh my God-” You grin and ask, “What?”

“Hilarious, really. How long have you been waiting to use that one?” He sounded more amused than annoyed, a lazy smile on his face.

“Not that long, like maybe a week?” You respond.

“Your self restraint is somethin’ to marvel at.” He is in a really good mood tonight. But why wouldn’t he be? It’s Friday night, he’s out with her girlfriend, drinking and making merry, who wouldn’t be pleased as fucking punch?

“You flatter me with such sweet words.” You said as you decide to stop, all your other tables are good for a moment, you might have been hauling ass to make sure that could happen so you could have a small break to chat with them. You lean against the table and ask, “Where’d she get off to?”

You were sure she’d thank you for ensuring her song got played and he gestured with the drink now in his hand, “Out on the dancefloor.”

Your eyes follow his and see her out there, beautiful as ever in dark blue velvet and swaying to the music and you realise this whole time he hadn’t looked at you once when you came over. He was looking at her. Your gaze falls on his face and you see the expression, it’s clear how much he loves her.

You ache a little.

You wish for what they have. A not as quiet as you wished part of yourself wished he or she’d look at you like that.

An unexpected wave of emotion runs over you at that. You break away and excuse yourself, he seems surprised by the abruptness of your departure but lets you go all the same as he calls after you, “Alright.”

You make a beeline for the back hall.

Thankfully there is no line. You come into the bathroom and find an empty stall and you go inside.

Why are you being like this? You need to get it together. You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady yourself, it sucks, this all sucks.

You click and connect with them both so well but you’ve only known them for a little over a month by this point. You need to get over it. You wipe at your eyes frustratedly, you weren’t going to let this emotional hiccup ruin your make-up when you shouldn’t even be feeling this much over practically nothing.

You give yourself another moment to straighten yourself out before leaving the stall and you practically run into Tiffany who had somehow entered the bathroom without you hearing it. You really need to stop running into her like this, you open your mouth to say that in some attempt of making a joke but her expression makes you stop.

She looked concerned.

“Are you okay, hon?” She sounded concerned too. You make sure to keep some distance between you and her as you take a step back.

You do your best to hide how you are feeling. You force a smile and say, “Yeah Tiffany, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine. You don’t look fine. You look like you were almost crying.” She took a half step closer and you took one back, a nervous laugh leaving your lips.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She was too astute and could see right through you. Lying was never your strong suit when some more serious shit was on the line, like such complex emotions.

“Really it’s nothing-” She isn’t having it.

She cuts you off. “It’s clearly not.”

She isn’t gonna let this go. You need to still get her to let it go so you say, “It doesn’t matter, I just-...I have some issues that can’t be fixed. I need to just get over them.”

A pause that is full of tension and things unsaid.

You can’t look at her. Your eyes fixed on the singular tile on the floor between your heels and hers. She says, “I think I know what it is.”

She does? “I see you looking and I look too.”

You look up and your eyes lock with hers, surrounded and lined with black and glitter. She takes another step forward and you take one back and your spine meets the pillar between two stalls. You cannot move back anymore, she steps again and is nearly pressed to you. She is taller than you but add on her choice of heels and forget about the fact you are wearing some yourself, she still beats your height easily.

You haven’t looked away, neither has she, you speak softly, can feel your heart rate picking up, “Tiffany what are you doin-”

Her hand takes yours and it stops your sentence short, what she says next is so sincere it is almost unbelievable but of course the tone is genuine, “You’re gorgeous to me.”

You have no time to respond, her head dips down and she kisses you.

Your eyes go wide, your hand squeezes hers in shock and she hums sweetly.

This is happening. You weren’t expecting this, anyone but certainly not her kissing you in your works bathroom. It wasn’t like a club bathroom isn’t used to seeing a lot of action but it just never had with you. Also she was into you?

You thought she’d been flirting a little but who knows? You weren’t about to make a move, the odds of the woman you were into also being into men and women were nearly astronomical. Being very decidedly not straight wasn’t something most people could be open publicly about. You had to be very careful and extremely sure that the object of your affection swung that way and wasn’t just overly sweet or it could spell all kinds of trouble. Clearly, luckily, she was like you in this regard, talk about striking gold.

But this wasn’t like you, getting involved with a customer, especially one who is already seeing someone but-

Fuck.

Her lips are so soft, she tastes so good and she is warm and your mind swims, so you kiss her back. It feels amazing, she feels amazing, this feels so fucking right, more than it had any right to. When was the last time you had been kissed like this? Or just kissed at all?

Leaning up on the front of your heels and your lips move against hers and she presses you harder into the unrelenting surface at your back and you enjoy every shared move of your lips and hers. You recall what she said back in the diner and you decide this is a perfect moment to just not think and instead, indulge.

It goes on for another moment that is somehow blissfully long and far, far too short.

She is the one to break the kiss with a sigh and your eyes flutter back open to see her still so close to you. God, she is beautiful and holy shit, such a good kisser.

As soon as her hand slips from yours and she takes a step back you feel guilty.

What about Chucky? What does this mean? You start to panic, your mind races and your breathing changes and she immediately takes notice, her hands cradle your face and she coos to you, “Hey, hey.”

You look into her eyes again and she tells you, “Listen to me. Don’t worry.”

The way she looks at you and says it, something about it just soothes you, against all odds it works. Your mind is calm and you stop worrying. She smiles and asks, “Okay?”

You take another deep breath and give a single nod with a soft smile, “Okay.”

You leave the bathroom hand in hand and once you finish walking down that long hallway that leads from the restrooms to the dance floor you let each other go. You focus on your other tables and you don’t say a proper goodbye, they both give you a wave on their way out the door because they see you are busy and you return it.

The club closes less than an hour after that and you are still giddy.

Jackson asked you, “Is that the same lipstick you had on earlier? I coulda sworn it was lighter.” You brushed him off as you teased him, “Duh, of course it is, maybe you are finally losing your mind?”

It works, he laughs and drops it, “Guess so.”

You can’t help it.

She likes you and fuck, you like her too.

You don’t know what this means but for now you are just going to enjoy this. You go home after closing up high on her perfume and lipstick smudged on your lips altering the lip colour you’d chosen that night. You are unable to feel the February chill, much too warm for it to seep through your coat.

You sleep insanely well that night.

You float through your day and the next night at work the pair comes in again. You serve them but you feel a little weird about seeing Chucky. You can’t quite meet his gaze and don’t hang around them as long as you normally would.

You keep some distance and they definitely notice.

Tonight you were really busy and it did give you a little bit of plausible deniability, that you were occupied with your other tables and your work. The evening flies by, they leave at some point and you didn’t see them go, you feel bad about that.

You leave the club after closing down and find that they are still there. Waiting outside sharing a smoke and Chucky says, “There she is.”

“Hey you two.” You greet before asking, “Why are you both still here?”

Tiffany says, “You were awfully busy tonight, feels like we barely saw you, thought we might walk you to the train station.”

Oh shit. You tried to think up an excuse why they couldn’t but your mind was blank. You didn’t give them as much attention that you should have tonight and to make up for it you should let them take you to the station, it’s the least you could do when they are so nice.

“Yeah sure, that’d be great. Jackson is my usual walking buddy but he had to go early.” You smile and off you all head.

You feel awkward.

It’s quiet. Just the sound of two sets of heels, yours and hers and his dress shoes on the wet sidewalk and a thought enters your head. Something you meant to ask the other night. You speak and ask them, “How did you both meet?”

They share a look and Tiffany laughs softly as does he, “Would you believe at a nightclub?”

You smile genuinely at that, “No shit.”

“Yeah, I uh was actually out for a drink and I ended up talking with this girl and her and I clicked a little and she suggested something pretty out there and I went with it.”

You question him, “Out there how?”

“A threeway.” She fills in with a grin and your mouth falls open. “You suggested a threeway?!”

She had to be kidding. Chucky said, “Oh no she didn’t. Tiffany was the other girl that me and the first girl picked up.”

Oh so he was out with someone totally different and they picked up Tiffany for a threesome? How’d they get here then?

“Yeah and fuck am I ever glad she suggested it.” Tiffany said as her shoulder playfully nudged him.

He said, “The other girl was okay but nothin’ in comparison to Tiff. We got alone and the chemistry-” His sentence stopped to take an inhale of his cigarette.

Tiffany says on an exhale, “Amazing, totally crazy.”

“Right. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her, forgot about the other chick and we’ve been together ever since.” Chucky finished the story and you?

Your heart races.

A threeway.

That was how they fucking met, they had a threeway the very first night. You made yourself ask your next question as evenly as possible, trying to keep the massive excitement out of your tone. “So you are uh, still down for that?”

You have made it to the station, it’s quiet again.

It’s late and there is almost no one else around. They share a look before looking back at you and Tiffany asks, “Are you down for that?”

Chucky dropped the last of his smoke, he exhaled, fingers ran through his long hair and stomped it out before he stepped closer as he asked, “Yeah are you?”

Did they seriously just ask you that? What should you say? You knew what you wanted to say but was it a good idea or rather a smart idea?

You can’t think too hard, they are here right now, they obviously want an answer and you want to give them one. This is what you were hoping for, what you wanted, isn’t it? Why are you hesitating so much?

You work up the nerve with another deep breath, Chucky is so close to you. Whatever cologne he is wearing is so good, it pushes you forward, you nod and swallow hard. Hand reaches up, wraps around his tie once and you say, “Yes.”

You lean up and tug on his tie at the same time and you kiss him.

#FINALLY #HERE IT IS #TTHITOW #Through The Heart Is The Only Way #BHF writing #Chucky X Reader #Slasher x reader #Tiffany X Reader #slasher x reader #Charles Lee Ray X Reader #Tiffany Ray Valentine X Reader #I worked so fucking hard on this holy shit #Poly!Chiffany X Reader

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andaniellight · 1 year

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[sweating buckets because my wips are glaring daggers at me] haha I know I won’t be able to write this one as a proper fanfic so I’m letting this go here or my brain will seriously rot-

OT3 AU with Matt Foggy and Frank where they meet at this one school for Career Day. You know that kind of occasion, every student gets to bring their parents (or any representatives) to talk about what they do for a living for the students, things like that. And even though Frank and Maria have divorced a long time ago, they’re divorced on good terms so they’re still in contact, of course. And for that particular day, Maria knows she won’t be able to attend, so she asks Frank to go. He’s an ex-marine who’s now working as a firefighter after all, the students are going to be awestruck (but not as much as Junior would; secretly gushing around and about, that kid idolizes his dad more than anything), Maria also knows this.

Frank doesn’t remember much whether his school had this kind of Career Day as well or not, back when he was Junior’s age. Doesn’t matter anyway, because his parents were rarely at home, so of course he’d come to the school and do the talk, so Junior doesn’t have to feel left out. What he didn't expect was there are two lawyers who say they’re nobody’s dads or parents, but they’re here to “represent” this one kid, who Frank finds out from Junior later, this particular kid only lives with their siblings since their parents… are absent. Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law, declare that even though they’re not family by blood, they are genuinely showing just how much they care about the kid’s well-being the whole entire time. Either at the front of the class, or in the cafeteria before and after they’re invited into the class.

Yeah, touché, Frank thinks but can’t help to feel comforted. It warms his heart. Those two lawyers being allowed to talk on Career Day as nobody’s parents show that kids who are no longer with their biological parents for actual or figurative reasons also have the chance to bring some other people along with them. Talk about what kind of promising future is out there, awaiting them, without having to be left out.

It’s a good thing Frank gets to talk about what he does for a living before the pair, Frank isn’t like those hopeful, bright abogados. Besides, Nelson and Murdock totally deserve to talk last. Like, seriously, the impact of their speech and charming attitude lift the mood and blast spirits in the class through the fucking roof. Not only the kids are excited to help people in need now, doing pro bono and all that, but even the teacher and other parents seem to relax more a bit thinking that at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. Little things do count. Doing what you can, no matter how small, just to help those who are in need of help is always, always worth it. Makes sense and so easy to digest, because all actions have consequences. Things you give away will return and flow back to you in all kinds of forms.

Which is, funny enough, ironically the nobel stories relating to all that scarcely come from that Nelson guy; the magnet one, in Frank’s opinion. The one that always includes everyone in the room with his authentic attentiveness, that also reminds Frank what it feels to stay in the present, and live life as it is. He sees that in Maria too sometimes, when she shines the brightest with the people she loves and cares about the most, and it’s still a delightful kind of ache to think about even now. Frank can’t lie, he’d like to go drink with Nelson every now and then, just to have a good laugh and enjoy the end of the day to get through another insufferable day. Five minutes long or for hours, doesn’t matter. Nelson is that attractive, Frank admits after a couple of harmless banter exchanges they did, he’s definitely going to ask for his number after this if the others don’t have the same idea.

It’s Murdock, the one who was not born blind, who has this firm belief that everybody deserves equity, not just equality, with his cheeky, contagious smile, and how he always beams whenever Nelson praises him for being “the magnet” - of all kinds of troubles, all kinds of solutions, and all kinds of justice. Wears those dark sunglasses that would glint candy red whenever he cants away his head to a certain angle, the biggest good listener of them all.

Perhaps Frank doesn’t have to worry about others having the same idea of approaching Nelson just to have a chat, because Frank can’t even deny just how sweet Murdock looks. Whenever he opens his mouth to speak, all eyes and probably even hearts are on him immediately. Not in pity, or at least that’s not what Frank is feeling about that guy. Yeah, Frank definitely won’t have to worry about the others at all, if he doesn’t notice the way Murdock always has his arm around Nelson’s, doesn’t notice the way the sweet handsome face is struggling to tamp down the daring and challenging solemnity toward the world. Nelson is his anchor. And Murdock may be blind, but he has faced and seen and challenged the unimaginable. Behind those heart throbbing professional grins and supportive commentaries, Frank is thrilled to notice Murdock isn’t one the be fucked around.

Bonus point: Matt and Foggy are still pining for each other, and perhaps with Frank’s help they’ll finally realize about their feelings toward one another 👀✨

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freakingoutthesquares · 11 months

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Orange, Issue 3, May 1992:

Transcrption: PulpWiki

1992 sees Sheffield's wackiest band, Pulp, celebrating their tenth anniversary. In a recording career that's seen so many singles that Pulp themselves aren't totally sure what they've had released, there's only been one album - the excellent Freaks of 1987.

But, following on from the success of the two singles in '91 (My Legendary Girlfriend and Countdown), May 18th sees the release of O. U. She's Gone - a sublime piece of D.I.S.C.O. that's sure to have all the kids pogoing in delight, and rumours are spreading that the long awaited second album Seperations might follow soon after.

But aren't they afraid that, after all these years, they'll have passed their prime? Orange managed to catch up with Jarvis (vox/guitar/Oxfam junkie), Russell (guitar/violin/stares), Candida (keyboards/dresses) and Nick drums/eating) (Steve the bass player couldn't make it) to find out more.

J: No. As far as most people are concerned, we only started to exist last year. R: Most of the people that come to see us now have never heard anything before My Legendary Girlfriend, thank goodness! They don't know about our hideous past - we've been trying to keep it quiet, you know!

So what've Pulp been up to since the release of Countdown? R: A hectic schedule of staring into space. J: Vegetation. N: We went to France. R: We played a few concerts. J: We've just been getting some new material together. R: I suppose the main thing we've been doing is building up a following in London, really, because we only ever had a following in Sheffield.

What's been happening with the Seperations LP? Everyone expected it to be out last year, but it's still not out. Why's it taken so long? J: We want it to be really good. All this about things taking time is never anything to do with us, honestly. C: It's not our fault! N: It's the organisation around us. J: We'd like to have a record out every couple of months, but it never seems to work out that way. R: We recorded the unmixed album over two years ago and it was written a longtime before that, and it's just not been released yet. J: Which hurts!

So when is it due out then? C: We don't know much at the moment...this year hopefully! J: Yeah, it might, hopefully, be this year, if we're lucky - if we get it between the summer and the Christmas rush!

Tell us about the new single. J: It's great, isn't it! R: It's called O. U.. C: Ring up our manager and you'll hear it on the answer phone! R: It's mixed by the bloke who did Spiritualized... J : Ed Buller, who did a very good job and, er, yeah, it's good! R: It's radio-friendly, 'cos it's two minutes and fifty seconds long. N: ...compared to MLG where the actual singing didn't start 'til about three minutes into the song. This one, the songs over and done worth. R: This is shorter than the intro for MLG! More of a jingle than a song!

What's O.U. actually about then Jarvis? J: It's about a man faced with the decision of hearing his girlfriend leaving the house, leaving him and it's only eight o'clock in the morning and he has to decide whether he wants to stay in bed for an extra hour or get dressed and go and stop her from leaving him for ever. C: Oh, that's good!

And, dear readers, as soon as you hear this little gem of a single, you'll find that you have to agree with Candida. But if you can't wait 'til the May 18th release then make sure you're down at the Mill on May 11th and I'm sure that Pulp will play it for you - perhaps even twice, if you ask nicely. And if you can't wait 'til then, I suppose you could always give Pulp's manager a ring.

S.B.

#russell senior #jarvis cocker #pulp #90s #almost britpop #interview #printed interview

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weneverlearn · 1 year

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youtube

Death of Samantha and the Blizzard Drive

Death of Samatha, 1988, on the shores of Lake Erie, most definitely not in the wintertime

Among the many fun-if-maddening things about YouTube is the odd ways in which fanatical nabobs post things. Let's just say they're not all SEO experts.

While anyone who has followed this blog, read my book, or spent more than 25 minutes talking to me at some point knows, I 'm a huge Death of Samantha fan. So I recently stumbled on these YouTube clips that do not list DoS at all in their titles, and hence were a treat to discover.

I was actually at the February 26, 1990 show in these live clips. New Bomb Turks guitarist Jim Weber drove up from Columbus, OH, to Cleveland with me and our roomie pal, Brian Duran. It's about a two-hour trip, but well worth it cuz DoS were always good, and hadn't been down to Columbus in awhile. Hard to tell from the dark, somewhat static film work here, but believe you me, it was a great show.

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Nothing to do with snow, but gives you an idea of the pretty good local TV we had in Cleveland at the time that informed Death of Samantha's sense of the absurd...

The club was the Babylon a-Go-Go, a small, narrow joint tucked into an alley off W. 25th St., then a fairly desolate area (except for the excellent Great Lakes Brewing Company, where Eliot Ness used to hang out at the end of his career; it's still there). The "stage" was just the area right next to the bar, so you sort of sat on stools craning your neck at the band, or stood around.

As per usual with such wonky joints, it nonetheless made for a great place to see a band. Dates escape me at this point, but as the club gained a lil' following, they knocked down a wall, added a proper stage, and continued on as a solid club for I think about 4 more years. I saw an amazing L7 show there, Jonathan Richman, lots of good local bands, and they held Stiv Bators' official wake there in June, 1990, a monumentally interesting and fun event I have previously written about here -- check the bottom here and see the video tribute John Waters sent that was played at the event (along with ones from Iggy Pop and Lydia Lunch).

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Bloated with fine rock'n'roll and craft beer (then a new trend in Cleveland), we hit the road home -- only to drive right into a huge blizzard. As traffic stops got increasingly packed, we tried a couple side road exits that got us nowhere, and ended up back on I-71 into more scary, slippery two-mph slogs.

Death of Samantha, 1988

At one point, while sitting in a miles-long jam, it was decided that getting out to pee on the side of the road would no doubt coincide with the traffic starting to move, and one of us chasing the car; but more pertinently, it was just cold and blistery as hell out. Then suddenly, the empty Pringles can (that night's dinner on the way to the show), smiled up from the car floor, offering relief.

Let's just say that that moment, in that dark backseat, with the strains of the Replacements wafting out of the tape deck, I learned the rough volume size of my bladder, as did the floor of that back seat.

It took us nearly seven hours to get back to Columbus, finally bounding out of the car with no regrets. That's how good Death of Samantha was. (Easy for me to say though, I didn't do any of the driving.)

The infamous blizzard of '78 in Cleveland

Climate change has added another layer of nostalgia to this tale, as it seems we just do not get big snowstorms like that anymore. Yeah, it still snows in Cleveland, but not in those massive pile-ups that remain stuck on the edges of sidewalks and mall parking lots gaining smog and car exhaust veneers until they gamely try to ward off the late-March melt...

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#deathofsamantha #ClePunk #yellow snow #john waters #stiv bators #Youtube

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 year

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It’s here! It’s arrived! I bought an external disc drive earlier this year, and so far I have used it twice: for John Oliver’s stand-up DVD Terrifying Times, and Daniel Kitson’s Shenanigan show on CD. Further goings on about that behind the “keep reading” link (partitioning it only because it might get a bit long and will have pictures that will take up too much space on the screens of people who don’t care).

The Terrifying Times DVD got here because in late April, when I was working my way through the John Oliver era of The Bugle and trying not to think about the fact that those 218-ish hours of audio that had once seemed as good as infinite would at some point end, I decided I really wanted to find the only stand-up special John Oliver has ever made. I searched all over my usual options for this sort of thing, and then just started Googling, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I’d occasionally see an Amazon link, and would get excited for a second because I was more than willing to pay a little money for it, if Amazon had an option to pay to download it – but then I’d click the link and see it was just the physical DVD for sale.

Somehow, it took quite a while of this before it occurred to me that technically, even though it’s 2022, there’s no reason why I can’t order that DVD that was released in 2008. And I even have that external disc drive. So I ordered it, and somehow, I was still surprised when it actually arrived, and was exactly as advertised. I just hadn’t expected that to actually work, because it’s 2022. But it arrived, and it felt like a time machine to 2008. It was like finding a bit of 2008 that should have been scrubbed from the world years ago, but they’d forgotten to remove it and I’d been mistakenly allowed to just order it on the internet. Look, I took some pictures the day I got it:

And a little brochure inside the cover to advertise other things that would be of interest to anyone purchasing this:

Fucking excellent, I loved going through that before I even put the disc in the drive. And once I did, of course, there were even more exciting things. Special features, like a video of a weird 9-minute conversation between John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman, sitting across a table in some sort of recording studio, talking awkwardly about how British people are incapable of sincerity because the last time they were sincere about anything they went to war with France. The stand-up show itself was very entertaining, but the whole experience ended up being more than that, and it was entirely worth the six dollars I paid for it and the little piece of my soul that I give away any time I buy shit off Amazon.

The second time I’ve used the external disc drive is today. Last year, Daniel Kitson recorded a story show called Shenanigan, just into a microphone in his house, I’m pretty sure. Then he put it onto vinyl, CDs, and cassette tapes, and sold it on his website, because that’s the sort of thing he does. Daniel Kitson and John Oliver are two men who started their careers together and hold many similarities in the worldviews that define the work they’ve done in their diverged directions, but there are some significant differences, one being that you can’t buy Daniel Kitson’s things on Amazon. By “sold it on website”, I mean he accepted orders up to the maximum number that he could personally handle, because then personally packaged them and sent them out. Becuase that’s the sort of thing he does.

Obviously they sold out quickly, and this was all over by the time I got into Daniel Kitson’s stuff earlier this year. I was disappointed to have missed the opportunity by only a few months, but pleased when he put them back for sale this year. Again, obviously, only as a limited physical release. Because we have to be able to appreciate the fleeting beauty in scarcity and the inherent romance of a piece of media that exists in this form that can’t be easily compressed and co-opted and commodified like most media these days. The idea that something is there for a window and then disappears, the way media used to be, when its limitations made it special, before eternal open access to everything rendered it all less meaningful.

That was his idea behind it, I think, and my reaction was to do what I generally do in the face of Daniel Kitson’s attitude toward that sort of thing, which is to say: “Yes I’m all for the romantic notion of the best experiences being fleeting beauty that takes work and care to uncover, but I live in Canada and did not get into this sort of thing until the last couple of years because I was previously too busy trying to shape the next generation through sporting events, give me a fucking chance.” I also feel nostalgic sometimes for things like my old CD collection, but also, my day-to-day life is much much easier now that I can immediately play any of my 11,000+ songs on iTunes instead of messing around with discs every time I want to hear a different album. And Daniel Kitson can’t judge me for that, because he’s mentioned on his radio show that he uses Spotify, which is way worse. I think owning digital media is way easier and a better way to preserve it than owning physical media, but both options are far superior to just renting your media from a large company that will take away your access to it if you don’t pay them every month.

Having said that, a little of my opposition to Kitson’s insistence on not just making it easy by letting us pay for a download link (which, to be fair, he has done with other shows on Bandcamp, and actually that makes all my complaining about this, it’s my own fault that I decided all those Bandcamp and Vimeo shows weren’t enough) dissipated this morning, when the actual CD arrived. It is, honestly, fucking cool to hold it in my hands and feel like actual effort has gone in, on both ends of the transaction (transferring it to CD, packaging, mailing across an ocean on his part; and on my part I guess just waiting six weeks, but that seems like a lot of effort in this age where media is digital and instant, also it cost a fair bit with trans-Atlantic shipping but I didn’t actually pay that cost since I sent the link to my parents the day it went on sale and told them this is what I want for Christmas), to get this into my hands. It was cool to have something physical to open. There’s a sticker on the box that says “I designed some stickers because it seemed like a bit of fun, but sticking them on is actually just a bit more admin.” I tried to carefully peel that off because obviously I’m going to keep that, probably put it on my bookshelf with my Taskmaster sticker, and while I was doing that, I had a moment of realizing Daniel Kitson had personally stuck it on there in London England and now that same thing is here in my hands and that is, in fact, fucking cool. Cooler than an mp3 bought off Bandcamp can ever be.

In the package is a lovely double album cover, the outside and the inside carefully designed; looking at it gives me a real sense of what Daniel Kitson means when he says things are worth more if they’re not really easy to just grab off the internet. When I’m not reading about his stuff that used to be out there but I missed the window, and instead I managed to get on board while it was open and now I get this as a reward, it’s fucking cool. Look how nice it is:

Having said that, I’m going to do with this CD exactly what I did with John Oliver’s DVD, which is marvel at the cool designs on the physical cover and even the physical discs, and then put them into my disc drive, plug the drive into my computer, and convert them into digital files that I can save to my hard drive. I’ll respect the spirit of artist’s choice to stick to physical media, which is to not create something that can be passed around easily (by “the artist” in this instance I mean Daniel Kitson... I feel less compelled to worry about that with a 2008 DVD I bought off Amazon) - I won’t share it anywhere. I just want to have it for myself.

See, romanticized fleeting beauty aside, it’s a hell of a lot easier to have a file I can play through my preferred video/audio software on a computer, than to have to get out the external disc drive every time I want to hear it. And on a practical level, files on a hard drive are way easier to organize and use than our old stacks of CDs and DVDs. It’s also nice to have media in a form that can be backed up, because shortly after the CD arrived my mother’s cat knocked over a water bottle perilously closet to it, and I freaked right out from the thought that my only copy was almost ruined. It’s a cool feeling, to have one physical thing be so significant that I need to protect it, but also, going through life with everything being that way would be tiring. I'd rather have to protect one laptop and a few external hard drives than have hundreds of CDs and know I lose part of my media if any of them get damaged.

Anyway, the actual point of this post is to say: look how pretty that album cover is! And also to say: It’s here! It’s arrived! Didn’t quite get here by Christmas, but close enough! I’m so excited to finally have it!

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alifeasvivid · 2 years

Text

Luck of the Draw; ukus drabble

This is from the alternate timeline of Thief of Spades in which Alfred actually finished his apprenticeship and became a master jeweler and designer in record time... and never became a thief. By sheer luck, Arthur meets him anyway.

it’s also a belated-by-three-hours birthday present :D

Rating: T+ for Alfred’s innuendos Warnings: none in particular Summary: Arthur gets called in on late-night break-in at a jewelry store. Word count: ~1900

minor points: Detective Sergeant is the rank below Detective Inspector and SO7 refers to the Metro Police robbery department (I finally bothered to look it up LOL they’re also called the Flying Squad! XD What even are British people?) and The Twat is no one in particular.

An unusually quiet night at New Scotland Yard has Detective Sergeant Gilbert Beilschmidt spinning mindlessly around in his desk chair while his partner, also Detective Sergeant Arthur Kirkland is moping over a plastic container and stabbing glumly at chunks of pineapple with his fork.

After another heavy, despondent sigh from Arthur, Gilbert groans. “Mate. You’ve got to let this go. The boy is a twat, I told you that from the start.”

Arthur glares over at him and then stabs the fork into the pineapple chunks so that it sticks straight up on its own. He frenetically scrubs his hands through his hair and sighs, but more assertively. “I know, I know he’s a twat. No one has told my heart, apparently,” he mumbles.

It has hardly been two weeks since Arthur caught his boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—cheating. It had been going on for awhile and The Twat accused Arthur of being a terrible boyfriend, the worst lover on the planet, and kicked him out.

Gilbert uses Arthur’s distracted mood as an opportunity to finally swipe a piece of the Pineapple Pirate’s coveted treasure. He grins as he savors the sweet, tangy fruit. “No one’s told your dick, that’s the real trouble.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Quite. Don’t think I didn’t see what you did just there. You’ll pay for that.”

Gil licks the sticky juice off of his fingertips. “It was worth it. You know, you’re supposed to be one of the leading detectives in SO7… if you can’t prevent a known associate from stealing your own property, it seems to me you might need to rethink your career choice.”

“Oh sod off.” Arthur grumbles. You’re only jealous because you know I’m going to make inspector before you.”

“Like hell,” Gilbert says with no bite before spinning around his chair again. “Even if you do, you’ll have earned it. You probably could have gone for MI5 or even MI6. No one’s as smart as you and no one works as hard as you do.”

It’s a compliment, but it has Arthur poking at his pineapple bits again. “Perhaps I might be working too hard. My superior work ethic was recently cited as cause for my eviction,” he drolls.

“Ha!” Gilbert laughs and shakes his head. “How’s your mum feel about you moving back in, anyway?”

Arthur eats a piece of pineapple. “She’s glad I’m out of that relationship more than anything. I suppose it was quite awful, but… well anyway, she and I are just alike, so living with her isn’t a problem and it is only temporary.”

“Just alike? Does she have shite taste in men too?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow. “Well, she has four boys by three different men, so you tell me.” In his desire to move on from this part of the conversation, Arthur inadvertently violates a cardinal rule known to all cops, paramedics, nurses, doctors, and anyone who works in emergency services by stating, “Bloody hell, it’s quiet tonight isn’t it?”

“Fuck,” Gilbert groans. “You just had to say that, didn’t you?”

Arthur curses himself. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Whatever happens now, you have to deal with it. Christ. Maybe you’ll get lucky and the gods weren’t listening.”

“Lucky. Right.”

Not five minutes later, the phone rings. Gilbert stares at Arthur pointedly until he answers it. The call is from an alarm and security company stating that there has been a break in and possible robbery in progress on the property of one of their clients: a high end boutique jewelry designer. Their personnel are already en route and they require an actual officer of the law to meet them. After obtaining the relevant information, Arthur dashes off, not even bothering to ask Gil if he wanted to come too.

The shop is situated on a corner and all of the windows have solid shades down to prevent prying eyes after business hours. The security team consists of two people: a man and a woman, both are equally sober and serious. Arthur tells them that if they know the layout of the store, he will follow their lead.

The front of the store appears deserted, though a light is on in the backroom. Arthur makes note of this as odd. Wouldn’t a thief be working under cover of darkness? The whole store is covered in cameras, so why turn on a light? He splits off from the security team in search of whoever tripped the alarm. Arthur immediately heads to the backroom, not seeing anyone at first, although one of a trio of safes is open.

“Oh shit, you guys are quick!” a voice sounds from behind him.

On reflex, Arthur whirls around and forces the suspect face first against the wall. He observes the back of the thief. He is definitely a man, but dressed in a red silk cocktail dress with a diamond wreath sparkling around his neck… and he’s barefoot. His sunny blond hair is disheveled and from the arms sticking back over his ears, he wears glasses. What an odd thief. “I’m Detective Sergeant Arthur Kirkland with the Metro Police Service. You are under arrest for trespass and suspicion of burglary.”

“Ooo a sergeant, huh? I’m afraid you’re gonna have to buy me dinner before we get physical,” he quips. It’s then that Arthur hears his accent: American.

Arthur flips the thief around, making quick note of skewed glasses, flushed cheeks, and bright blue eyes. Pretty… he shoves that last thought aside. The thief is young, though, in his early twenties at most. “Identify yourself.”

“Name’s Alfred Jones. As it happens, this is my store. Got my logo on the door and everything. I tripped the alarm on purpose, I wanted to see how quickly this new security company would respond. Real quick it seems… and they even brought a ‘coppa,’” he says the word with an exaggerated English accent. “Pretty decent service for the money.”

Arthur pulls his handcuffs from their holster, releasing the thie—Alfred, but staying close. “You understand why I’m going to need verification.”

Alfred sways his hips and swishes the skirt of his dress, which is just so distressingly alluring to him. (Arthur shoves that thought aside too.) “And where exactly would I have put that, Detective? Though you’re more than welcome to do a cavity search.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. It’s almost a shame Gilbert didn’t take the call, he would have gotten a good laugh over this idiot. “That won’t be necessary, Mr Jones. The security company has two of its agents on site, they’ll be able to verify your claim, will they not?” He places the handcuffs on Alfred’s wrists.

Alfred grins wildly. “A bit kinky for a first date, but I’m down. Hey, if I make a break for it, are you gonna shoot me?”

Arthur sighs. Americans. “I am not armed.”

“That’s a damn shame. Would’ve loved to see your gun.”

“Sergeant, are you there?” the female security officer calls out. Both she and her colleague enter the room and it’s only then that Arthur looks around enough to see that the expansive room isn’t another showroom, but a full-on jeweler’s workshop.

“Hey, you guys mind? You’re kind of interrupting,” Alfred calls over to them.

“Don’t speak,” Arthur admonishes. “Have you found anyone else?” he asks the agents as he holds tightly to Alfred’s upper arm.

“No,” they say.

“This man claims to be the owner of this establishment and your client, but he cannot produce any identification.”

The male security officer nods and pulls out his phone. “We should be able to determine if it’s him or not. Your name, sir?”

“Alfred Jones, but really, you don’t have to go to all the trouble. This fine detective here is about to haul me away and I should really be punished so…” Alfred rocks back and forth on the balls of his bare feet.

Arthur yanks on his arm, hard. “Don’t. Speak.”

The security officer turns his phone to show Arthur the array of photos they have on file of people who have permissions with the company and right at the top is Alfred’s photo, smiling the same cheeky grin. “It’s him, Sergeant. We apologize for any indignity, Mr Jones.”

Alfred pulls his arm back from Arthur. “No worries, I never had any dignity in the first place.”

“That much is obvious.” Arthur glares at him, but Alfred only preens smugly.

“You guys respond fast, color me satisfied with the service.”

The two nod. “We’ve swept the rest of the store and have found everything else to be in order, Mr Jones, but we’d be happy to do another sweep if you’d like.”

“Nope, you’re good. I know I’m totally safe here with such an upstanding British detective. I’ll lock it up when we leave.”

“Very good, sir.” The security officers exchange strange looks as they start to leave as if wondering what kind of game they walked in on.

Arthur shakes his head, exasperated. Well, if an annoying (annoyingly attractive) American is the worst he has to deal with tonight, he can still call it a good night, though he doesn’t dare say that out loud; he’s already pushed his luck enough for one evening. He moves to release Alfred Jones from his handcuffs, but Alfred tugs his hands away and out of Alfred’s reach.

“Oh, hey, one more thing,” Alfred calls out. “Can you hit the lights? I think Sergeant Kirkland is probably the shy type, ya know?”

Arthur sputters furiously. Oh he’ll show Alfred shy! Alfred is so energetic, he probably gets flustered easily. He’d probably yelp so cutely at being pushed over any one of these benches, still cuffed, and his pretty red dress bunched up over his hips and— Arthur freezes. “Will you shut up?” He roughly tugs on Alfred’s arm and releases the handcuffs before the git can try anything. Pushing Alfred away, he mutters, “Bloody hell.”

The lights turn off and the security officers are gone.

Alfred leans forward in the dark and kisses Arthur’s cheek quickly. “Thanks for coming, Sergeant. I’ll definitely rest easier knowing the auspicious Metro Police Service has fine people such as yourself on the job.”

Arthur blushes despite himself. All thoughts of The Twat have evaporated entirely and he hardly even notices it. “Yes, well. You’re welcome, I suppose. Would you like me to escort you out?” He regrets asking the instant the words leave his mouth.

But surprisingly, Alfred shakes his head, a thoughtful and quietly intense look in his eyes. “No thanks. I’m actually going to stay and work, I think. This has been a rather… inspiring incident and I want to get some sketches down while it’s all fresh in my mind.”

“Sketches?”

Alfred nods and moves toward one of the benches. “Yeah, for new designs.”

“You’re the designer?” Arthur asks, resisting the urge to follow.

“Yeah and I machine most of them in-house, me and a couple other jewelers. Pretty much everything I do is one of a kind.” He sits down and pulls out a sketchpad and pencil.

“It’s rather late, isn’t it?” Arthur also suddenly wonders where Alfred had been to be dressed as he is, but doesn’t dare ask.

“It’s fine, like I said, I want to get this stuff out of my brain or else I’ll just chew on it all night and go crazy.”

Arthur suddenly finds Alfred far more interesting and much less annoying. Clearly, he was only having fun before, but he is capable of sincerity and seems quite intelligent.

“If you come by tomorrow,” Alfred says, smiling genuinely at him. “I’ll show you.”

Arthur considers this for a moment. It’s the first time in two weeks that he’s felt any spark of his usual self. “Perhaps I might, with any luck.”

#ukus #usuk fanfic #thief of spades au #an au of an au LOL #spadian ballad

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