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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

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Jaskier and the Beast

(for the love of gods, I’m begging you, leave me some tags and comments on this. I worked really hard and I’d really like feedback/validation)

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“You can’t just leave me tied here!” Jaskier cried out, listening as the group of men in dark, hooded robes disappeared into the woods around him. He tugged frantically at his bonds and gave a dry, heaving sob. “Come back!”

The young man was terrified. He could feel his heart hammering away in his chest and his lungs had begun to burn with the effort of breathing in and out so quickly. Hyperventilating. He was hyperventilating.

The confused young man had been bound face-first to the trunk of a tree, his wrists fastened tightly together on the opposite side in some strange parody of a hug. The strangers had murmured slow, syrupy words in another language as they tied him into place; their pace grew frenzied and their tone grew more insistent when their leader finally slipped a blindfold over Jaskier’s tearful blue eyes and cut him off from the rest of the world. After he’d lost his sight there had been more strange chanting. Sigils were drawn onto his bare forearms with horsehair brushes and sweetly scented blackberry ink.

Then the young man had been seemingly abandoned.

“Hello?” he called to the darkened forest around him. “Is anyone out there?”

A low, softly rumbling purr erupted from somewhere near his left side and Jaskier jumped in surprise. A wall of warmth approached the left half of his body and a rough, calloused hand slid its way down his arm and through the sigils, smearing them to nonsense.

“Hmm,” a low, gravelly voice hummed. Jaskier’s hands were gently unclenched and examined with great care by whatever creature or person was here in the clearing with him. It paid special attention to the tips of his fingers, where his skin was rough from playing the lute and the harp. He tried not to let his hands tremble where they lay against the creature’s palm but they couldn’t be stopped. “So they have decided to give me a little bird. I suppose that you will have to do.”

“Have to do what?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head up to where he suspected the strange interloper to be. Jaskier gasped in shock when the blindfold was removed and he came face-to-face with the most handsome man he’d ever seen and not, as he’d expected, some kind of hideous monster. The slightly older man had long white hair that fell to his shoulders. It was pulled halfway back to reveal his strong jaw and bright, amber eyes. His teeth were sharp and glinted in the moonlight and his pupils were slit like a cat’s, but Jaskier found himself more entranced or bewitched than frightened. He whispered a slightly different question with just as much frightened urgency, “What will I have to do, My Lord?”

“Be my guest, or prisoner if you so desire, at Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier gasped softly.

“The Beast!”

The young man felt terror coursing through his veins once again; he’d heard endless stories about the Beast ever since he and his father had moved to the quiet village near the northern border. How he was half-man and half-wolf or how he’d eat any man that offended him. How he’d fought off an entire invading army by himself to keep his family’s ancient fortress intact.

Kaer Morhen, the villagers had whispered with fear in their eyes, If you enter the gates then you never come out.

And here was the Beast himself, staring down at Jaskier with a strange glint in his molten-honey eyes, his hands toying with the rope around Jaskier’s wrists. The young man gulped and lowered his gaze. “I don’t have a choice, do I, My Lord?”

“Did they not tell you why they left you here for me?” the stranger asked, quirking a brow. “Are you unaware of your purpose here tonight?”

“I’ve only just moved into town,” Jaskier whispered. “I’ve only heard rumors.”

“Not anything pleasant, I’m sure. What’s the worst you’ve heard?”

“That you eat people.”

The stranger chuckled lowly and the sound sent a zip of terror down Jaskier’s spine. “Stop panicking,” the Beast huffed and began untying the rope from around his captive’s tender wrists. “It smells bitter. It’s annoying.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier apologized. “I’m just a wee bit frightened, is all. Not really sure what’s going on or who you are. Now I’m being taken away to some place I’ve only heard tales about in passing…tales where the main character doesn’t usually come back out alive.”

“Do not fear me,” the Beast ordered, removing the heavy black cloak from around his shoulders to wrap around Jaskier. The younger man hadn’t noticed how chilly it had gotten until he was warm again.

Once the Beast was sure that the material was arranged as well as possible, he hoisted Jaskier into his arms and began to trek further into the woods, away from the village. The Beast sounded distressed as he continued, his voice growing increasingly agitated as he explained Jaskier’s circumstances, “I have no intention of hurting you. Quite the opposite. You see, I wrote to the village elders about a month ago and asked if anyone was interested in becoming my consort. I suppose they threw any real effort at matchmaking out the window when they read my signature so...here you are. Fresh-faced and terrified. My unwilling bride.”

“I’m going to be your...your…”

Jaskier’s blue eyes were unnaturally wide and his heart was beating jack-rabbit fast within the confines of his ribs. Too fast. Geralt’s brow furrowed in concern but it was too late for him to do or say anything of comfort; Jaskier had already fallen limp and unconscious in his arms.

“Fuck.”

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Jaskier awoke with a gasp, rocketing up into a sitting position. He was alone in an unfamiliar stone room. There was a fire blazing merrily in the hearth and a heavy velvet blanket wrapped tightly around his midsection but he hadn’t a clue where he was. He knew he was sequestered somewhere within the bowels of Kaer Morhen, that much was obvious, but otherwise he was entirely lost.

“H-Hello?” Jaskier half-whispered. He knew the Beast was around here somewhere; or perhaps he’d been abandoned for a second time that night. “Mr. Beast?”

“Geralt,” came that same low baritone from just outside the door. “My name is Geralt. May I come in?”

“Yes?”

“You sound unsure.”

“I don’t see how I can stop you, really. If I said not to enter, would you listen?”

“Of course.”

Geralt sounded confused...which only served to confuse Jaskier in turn.

“But...but aren’t I your captive? Your consort by arrangement?”

“You have a right to privacy,” Geralt huffed, coming around the door frame and fully entering the room. “Consort or not. Which we can discuss.”

“It can be discussed?”

“I won’t keep you here against your will, little bird.”

“Jaskier.”

“A pretty name for a pretty man,” Geralt grinned. The way he smiled was canine-heavy and Jaskier thrilled at the sight of it. His stomach filled with butterflies when he registered the compliment. Why? What was so appealing about this strange, strong but endlessly shy man? The anxious young numan couldn’t deny his obvious attraction to the Beast but Geralt was...but having Geralt as his husband? Forever? After only having known him for less than an hour?

“Perhaps we could spend some time together first,” Jaskier offered. He slid his hand across the velvet duvet and laced his fingers with Geralt’s so very gently. “Tell me, Geralt, what is your favorite color?”

“Right at this very moment?” the Beast asked, looking into Jaskier’s eyes with obvious relief, “Blue.”

“And tell me, Geralt, will you ever lay a hand on me without my permission?”

“Never.”

“Then court me freely, my Beast,” Jaskier smiled. It was the sweetest, most precious smile Geralt had ever laid eyes on. He knew in an instant that he’d do anything in the world to make the young man smile at him like that again. Over and over. He was already addicted to the warm sensation that filled his chest when he was near his little bird.

“Thank you, Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled, lifting their joined hands and pressing his lips to the back of Jaskier’s knuckles. “I very much look forward to wooing you.”

“You’re welcome, Geralt,” his little bird murmured in return, placing his own kiss to the back of the Beast’s chapped knuckles. “I very much look forward to giving you my heart.”

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djmarinizelablog · 3 years ago

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Hello! It's me again, your fellow Katipunera. Thank you so much for actually doing a short of my request and omg tibak Hange is just so fitting! 🥺 I hope you actually turn it into a full-length fic eventually, I can just imagine Hange teaching Levi different constellations as they stargaze at the PAG-ASA observatory lol. Again, many thanks and stay safe always! 🌻

Felt some sort of motivation to continue this fic, and since it's @levihanweek, I wanted to write something in a college setting, so here we go:

Day 1: School

(Read the first part here.)

He doesn’t know when it all started, how it happened. Hange draws him towards her by inviting him to more of these gatherings. The non-rallies. The post- or pre-processing for the protests. It’s informational, she says, something that classes could never teach them. And all he can do is listen and follow along.

They reserve a room on campus, one hidden from plain view, and Hange stands there in front in her plain black tee and baggy jeans, her flip flops a signature element to her outfit. A small crowd has gathered beforehand, waiting for what she has to say. Going up the small platform in the room, she balls her right hand into a fist in front of her audience, raises it up high, and begins her talk.

“The March for Science is a protest on behalf of the scientific and the marginalized community,” she says, reminding everyone that “no farmers, no food,” and “just the facts, bitches.” She elicits a few giggles from the younger audience, and that’s how Levi knows Hange’s got them hooked.

The people are intrigued by her speech, and there is a certain curiosity in their eyes with the way they burn bright. For Levi, politics was always something he didn't dare venture into and would rather leave things to his uncle who had a seat in the government. He wonders if there really is something worth fighting for in these kinds of issues. If there’s something worth standing up for. Or if it’s merely just Hange being Hange that sparks the interest of people.

When the meeting is over, he’s about to head for the exit, but Hange comes up to him. “What do you think?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Could go a little bit softer with the dissent, but shit, you do you.”

Hange laughs, thinks it’s a joke. It’s only the two of them left in the room now. She puts her hands in her pockets. “Wanna have lunch with me?”

“Why?”

"I just feel like having some company right now. Besides, it’s National Resilience Day."

"I don't give a shit about the date," he says, making a mental note to remember that it is, indeed, National Resilience Day. He really doesn’t know how Hange has an inkling to know these kinds of obscure events. In the silence, his stomach betrays him with a gurgling sound, much to Hange’s amusement. “I guess I don’t mind grabbing something to eat.”

Truth be told he doesn’t like eating at the public cafeteria. It’s too open, too messy, and the busboys who collect the empty plates from the tables are terrible when it comes to waiting—last time he stayed there, Levi was still finishing up his meal when someone swiped his plate from him. Now he’d rather dine elsewhere. Perhaps in fancier restaurants that he can somehow afford with the weekly allowance that his uncle provides him.

But Hange doesn’t take him there.

She takes it a notch above his expectations when she brings him to the public food carts where vendors are selling street food of all kinds. Levi can hear the sizzling of fish balls getting deep-fried in a wok, the crackling of hot oil, the clinking of coins being exchanged in transaction. One of the vendors is basting the meat sticks in sweet sauce, flipping the skewers once in a while, the smell of barbeque wafting through the air.

“I go here ‘cause it’s cheap and it helps the small business owners,” Hange explains as she orders them the so-called combo meals. He offers to pay nevertheless, but Hange dismisses it, saying it’s her treat—for tagging him along to these talks. She continues to explain the plight of the vendors: “Some days they need assistance, so they allow students to take over the stalls and sell their food on behalf of them for a day or two.”

“What kind of students would do that? It’s disgusting to be under the heat of the sun all day.” He blurts out without really thinking, but thankfully, Hange’s not the slightest offended.

In fact, she seems to understand where he’s coming from. “One day, maybe you’ll see.”

When their meals are ready, Hange shoves one of the plates into his hands. He frowns. “You don’t eat cheese sticks?” she asks him.

“Never tried.”

“Oh, boy.” Hange smirks at him. “This will change your life.”

Instead of heading to the cafeteria, she proposes to take him someplace else. They’re sitting cross-legged on a bench in front of the academic oval, watching people run across the grassy field. Hange waves a hand at someone and Levi recognizes Moblit from their other class. He has never really done this before, just watching, observing from a distance. Except when he’s with her.

Hange takes another piece of cheese stick from the paper plate of instant stir-fry noodles. They’re running out of fish balls on the side. He likes what he’s had so far, even the sauce that goes along with their meals.

"So what are you taking?" Hange asks him while munching on her food.

He twirls his fork on the plate so he can scoop the remaining noodles. "Communications." Hange guffaws, and he’s offended. "What's so funny?"

Hange tries to compose herself and proceeds to dip her cheese stick into the honey mustard. "No, it's just that… for someone who's so awfully high-strung and silent and, uh, non politically-involved, you don't strike me as the type of person who would be… communicative."

Her conclusion does make sense. Most students studying Communication are lively, energetic, and talkative. Needless to say, he’s none of those.

"I don't imagine myself to be a reporter. I imagine myself writing articles for print. Editing. Proofreading. Stuff like that."

"I see.” She stares into the sunset, and Levi does the same. There are trees all around them, the honking of cars on the main road, the clamor of barkers and passengers alighting the public vehicles, the nuances of their campus life.

Somehow, it makes him feel safe.

Hange proceeds to tell him about how she likes to stargaze at night, because the constellations are so much clearer from this point of view in their university field. He has an inkling that it’s her way of inviting him to stargaze with him some other time. He already likes the idea a lot, but he feels like he still wants to get to know her even better.

“Why are you into all of this?” he can’t help but ask her. “What makes you think your anger can solve the nation's problems?”

It’s a very loaded question, one that really makes Hange think. She doesn’t speak for a while and proceeds to finish her food. He allows her the silence between them. Maybe he should have been a little bit nicer. A little less aggressive.

"Our very own Father President refuses to put medical science before politics. Everyone should be a supporter of science, you know? We all should listen to the scientists."

He scoffs. “Easy for you to say. It’s hard to believe what’s true and what isn’t nowadays.”

Their plates are now empty, and Levi takes hers so he can throw it in the nearest trash can. When he comes back, he sits beside her once again, this time, closer.

"I care about science and evidence-based policies, not the nonsense that politicians say,” Hange tells him while staring at the sunset. After a few seconds of silence, she faces him. “What about you?"

Levi finds the strength to hold her gaze. "I care about the untarnished truth."

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hoefette · 4 years ago

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All the petty things I hate about fate!winx and their shitty universe/world building because

I'd added most if these in tags of other posts but I'm still so mad lmao

The way characters, Aisha and Mrs Dowling specifically make references to explicitly human or American things like instagram and Harry Potter

These people are from a different dimension for ffs why are they concerned with or are even aware of this very earth-specific shit? Do they teach earth classes at school over there?

I understand not wanting to have them be oblivious so Bloom wouldn't have to explain it to them, but it simply could be ✨omitted✨

Why would you go out of your way to date your work like this lmao ew

Ms. Dowling calling Tinkerbell an air fairy.. I cannot breeve with the stupidity why did they keep that in there

Why is Ms. Dowling.. the headmistress.. teaching classes? Where are the other teachers?

We ended up with a trio of antagonists (I guess you could call them that?) by the end of the season anyway so why not give us the trix, why have the characters play double roles as friends of our protagonists and also the villains/bullies? They clearly wanted a delinquent trio, in which case they could've gender bent the trix if they wanted to keep all the unnecessary sexual tension.

It just feels like the production team was lazy, they didn't want to hire more actors, they didn't want to bother with making the world immersive or lived in or believable at best, they just didn't give enough of a fuck

They wanted to make this show and attatch Winx to it for.. what? Like did you even google the main plot points? The abridged version or sparknotes to get details on the very literal, basic characteristics of our main characters or their roles or the world they inhabit????

It lacks wonder and intrigue.. I mean Bloom moves to another dimension, a school for fairies and we don't see her marvel once at anything.. and that's because she might as well have been in Switzerland because she's in exactly the same environment she would've been in over there anyway.

They could've said Alfea was in Europe and I'd believe it because nothing about the setting makes it feel otherworldly. I'm sorry but I'm not impressed.

Why do the teachers and graduated specialists communicate via facetime ?? In the magic dimension. ??? Why do they text each other and those texts then appear on screen like .. oh look, like a bad netflix teen movie ????? HELLO ??? it's the way technology and magic could've blended in so seamless into the world THE WAY IT WAS ALREADY DONE/SHOWN. Missed opportunity. it just takes you out of it imo every time you see the ugly, bland, gray text bar. Some fucking flavour pls I'm begging

How stupid the specialist must feel clonking around with the skinniest shreds of armor, plastic swords on their backs and battery powered flashlights and cellphones in their bags. R we larping?? I know I'd be laughing and asking why we hadn't already come up with something more effective .. idk like guns. I'm surprised I ain't see one gun in there.

In the beginning Ms. Dowling says some nonsense about fairies having lost the ability to transform to explain why there are no wings, which means they could've transformed before. So are we to assume that this supposed to be set in the time proceeding the original then?? Because something is not adding up with where they should be as a magical society technologically if that's the case

How does the production team want to keep the dark academia vibes with torches lining the walls and also want them to be face timing each other, presumably from miles and miles away in the dark forest???

Pls pick an aesthetic and stick to it everything was so unnecessarily dark. Where do they charge their phones since it's the only device we see that is the slightest bit modern and dont fucking tell me they charge it with magic I will punch you in the face

Why is there only one major monarchy that we are shown? Why are Solaria the only ones contributing to the efforts to defend the school and where is this mysterious battalion we never see lmaoo it's all so bad its laughable.

Is this set in the kingdom of Solaria? And why does the queen of an alleged interdimensional superpower monarchy pull up in black SUVs??????????? Why does she pull up with Andreas?? Is he not the king of Erakleon?? Where are his soldiers and his battalion and just?? Huh!? The world just feels empty like nobody lives here fr

Are we supposed to believe that the specialists get paired up with fairies just as a normal occurence and that they have to 'trust each other' and not because the plot demands it suddenly half way through when all we've seen so far are the fairies doing normalish school and homework, and the specialists outside, being physical everyday all day. This was never even implied that they'd have to work together apart from when we see the faculty as youngins with Rosalind. But even then.. it's like well why are they even together lmao? Is this a special team formed from Rosalind’s protégées? Were they formed after graduating from Alfea or what is this?? Are they the ONLY team of specialist/fairies hunting every single burned one?? What?

Are we now supposed to buy that Musa is being switched to 'support' because that's where her strengths lie and not in combat?? Are we supposed to believe that these girls know hand to hand combat?? When was this established? We see Terra wrapping some baby vines around a dude and I'm sorry is that the practical application of her power? Is this what the fairies are supposed to do once they graduate? Or is it just a switch in curriculum because of the threats outside the barrier?? This is never made clear.

Because if not then what's the point of this?? Why do they suddenly have endless classes together when the expectation was never set for the fairies to be like soldiers or out in the field fighting ?

Where exactly are they supposed to be what was the purpose of including Aster Dell and why is it a joy ride away from Alfea lmao?? Where Bloom is from and also not from?? Plot pls make it make sense

Why are fairies from another dimension vaping or smoking weed?? They are not human so why are they engaging in specifically human vices, yol couldn't come up with anything else to characterize 'delinquents'?? Very lazy very como se dices.. no effort. Nothing a little more spicy yol could invent, at least change the name and some properties holy shit did yol even try ??

So its fairies everywhere, having a lil party in the east wing of a phat castle.. and they are playing beer pong and dressed in t shirts and jeans..

Can you hear me screaming? Can you hear me vibrating with rage?

Not one floating decoration or magical anything in sight. Just purple lights and subpar vibes

Stella's costume design: tragic. I won't discuss further because we don't have the space or time but just know that it was absolutely atrocious and I hated it. Giving very debutante vibes

The entire budget going to that lame transformation sequence that was not a transformation sequence and those horrible, barely-there fire wings

Edgelord bloom and all her fucking leather jackets. Why do 30 yo, white cis men think girls exist in a binary? They could keep her earlier characterization and make her a hothead.. Bloom literally screamed herself into a couple power upgrades in the original come ooonnnn

Let girls be feminine without it being a character flaw what is wrong with yol its 2021. They could make her more mature, more angsty or whatever the hell else and not style her like that

The way Aisha's abilities flipflop between episodes and scenes. Very inconsistent. One minute she's struggling with a drop of water and the next she is moving an entire body of water for her bestie Bloom to fake transform because the plot demands it. Why even add in her struggles at all if you're just going to ignore it?

Why was Stella with them in that scene? She didn't do anything literally.. Aisha pulled the water and she did .. nothing.

Who the fuck is Rosalind? Why would they add her in,, to add nothing to story? The company of light was a thing, they could've plucked one of them hoes to be the antagonist. Why did the winx club need their own Delores Umbridge? Valtor was right there if you wanted an evil educator type character.

The camera work was so bland during the down beats, stagnant and fixed during a fairy party and erratic and ugly and disorienting during the fight scenes

I'm not getting over the fairy party because it was a good opportunity for the production and everyone else to show the differences between where Bloom was and where she is now but instead it just looks like a regular teen high school party?? This could have been set in Switzerland fr.

Everyone's just kind of standing?? You mean to tell me these people are from all different places in the magical dimension and their customs are all the same? They all throw parties like this ??

White and flavorless I am very bored

I guess the main question or takeaway I have is just.. who is this for? Because everyone, including the showrunners keep saying that it's for us, the fans of the original. But apart from the characters sharing some names, there are really no other similarities. So again, who was this supposed to appease or placate or satisfy? Because it sure as hell wasn't the winx club fans.

Overall, this feels very much like something I wrote and probably published on ff.net when I was 13 because I thought girls couldn't be taken seriously if they liked pink, and injected angst into everything that didn't need it and had no idea how to structure scenes or dialogue. It's just bad, objectively and N*tflix will keep making shit like this because apparently some people have bad taste??? Idk yol, be easy

#im never gonna stop i dont care i dont care #and i dont even usually make my own posts i just be reblogging and vibing #but im passionate abt this because he originak was the reason i wanted to learn how to draw #it was the reason i wanted to learn how to write and tell stories #it shaped a lot of shit for me because it was the very first one of its kind id ever seen #i ran home from school to watch it and argued with my friends about who got to be flora #i forced them to make cardboard wings with me and to perform the opening song during a school talent show #thank god we didnt get to perform otherwise we would all have died of embarrassment in hindsight #but ye i just hate to see things that obviously are very dear to a lot of people be treated with such casual indignity and its a disservice #a disservice to the fans and to the people who had probably want to create it as a passion project #to the people who spent hours and hours in rewrites and fanart amazing fanart and post series continuations #no one is saying the original is sacred and cannot be touch #this fandom actively calls out the bullshit rainbow has done and continues to do to the characters we love.. i havent spoken to one fan who #doesnt have an alter dedicated to their downfall. we found a piece of ourselves in these gorls and they were stripped and caricatured and #played for laughs so netfilx can make money and its just very upsetting to see.#so again fuck you brian young fuck you ignio and rainbow and fuck whoever the costume designer was #mine #text #fate winx club #fate: the winx saga #f:tws #winx club

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joshuas · 4 years ago

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that’s not even ramen

♫ pairing: yang jeongin x gender neutral reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack, fluff

♫ word count: 3.5k

♫ warnings: nil of note!

♫ summary: a bunch of chaotic misunderstandings, trot singing new years concerts that lead to lots of fluff at the end ^^

♫ tagging: @fluffyskzclub

♫ a/n: happy april fools! my joke is... that i can’t do anything on time and post things that were supposed to be posted in january in april, so without further ado, i present the eighth addition to my seasonal drabbles!

♫ skz seasonal drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

“I swear, this is the tenth time I’ve heard him sing tonight! If he’s going to continue to do this, he should at least sing a different song.” You sighed, exasperated as you tried to put your three-year-old sister to sleep. Her sleep, of course, being interrupted by your new next-door neighbour, Yang Jeongin. He had taken up trot singing over the last couple of weeks and decided only to practice his singing at 11 pm at night. Which, coincidentally, woke your baby sister up every time. And as if it wasn’t hard enough having sole custody over a sibling let alone having a teaching degree to attend to during the day. Your professors had been understanding of your... predicament after your parents moved out of the picture, but there was only so much patience they could hold. Of course, you couldn’t confront Jeongin about it — you were only acquaintances... barely even friends as you had only known each other through university... and now the thin wall that separated your living quarters. Well, it’d also be too awkward if you did (ugh, social confrontation), which is why you put up with it... Relief flooded through you when you heard the singing cease, sighing as your sister stopped fussing and fell back asleep. It’s not as though Jeongin was a bad singer. In fact, he was quite brilliant. But his singing was not appreciated at ungodly hours. The walls started to pulse as folk music blasted at a deafening volume, snapping you out of your reverie and forcing you to focus back on your crying sibling. You held back a scream, mentally cursing at Jeongin, I swear to God, the next time I see this boy—

“Mina put on your coat, it’s ridiculously cold out! It’s January, remember? And what season is it in Jan—“ You paused, observing the idiot that exited his apartment alongside you, “Oh! Hello, Jeongin—“ He walked away without a word, rushing down the stairs. Rude! First the singing and now he’s ignoring me? Does he have any human decency?

“Hello! Welcome — make sure you sign in your children before you leave!” Your eyes settled on Jeongin, who was beaming at the little kids that entered the daycare, holding out the sign-in sheet, Great and now he works at the only affordable day care. How... pleasant. Wiggling her hand out of your grasp, your sister waddle-ran over to Jeongin, giving him the biggest hug, for him to pick her up and spin her around. Ignoring the skip of your heart, you cooly approached the two of them, silently taking the sign in sheet and signing your name. “You must be Mina’s parent— I’m Jeongin, one of the part-timers here.” He held out his hand, Mina, still in his arms, blocking his view. You shook it, “Not her—“ You broke off as another kid ran to Jeongin, crying as he dragged him inside the daycare. Without turning around, Jeongin waved at you in dismissal. You scoffed, He won’t even acknowledge me at home but now that we’re in public and he’s literally being paid to be a decent human being, he’ll put on a face and pretend to be friendly? No thank you.

You rubbed at your temples, mentally snapping at yourself to focus. Tutorial time was probably the only time you had to yourself to study and get things done. But you know what? That wasn’t happening today. Why? Because of Yang Jeongin infiltrating your thoughts every five seconds. You grumbled to yourself, almost ready to pack up and leave, He should pay rent for how long he’s been living in my head. “Oh wait! Y/N, you’re leaving already?” A voice called out from behind a tower of books in their hands, not long before plonking them down on the table in front of you. You looked up, your gaze meeting Jeongin’s hopeful one. Why is he being so friendly? Especially since he flat out ignored me this morning... “Um... I was planning to. Not that it’s any of your business.” You said coldly, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion at his sudden friendliness. Really, Y/N? You’re being like this just because he snubbed you this morning? Okay, wait that’s pretty valid. Ignoring the little “no it’s not” in your head, you maintained your cold demeanour. “Oh. Um. Sorry. I was just asking because I was hoping to study with you.” Jeongin rubbed his neck awkwardly. You looked at him doubtfully, ignoring the hopeful fluttering in your stomach, “Why would you want to hang out with me of all people?” “Well, you’re the top of the class—“ You scoffed disdainfully and he broke off, looking at you wide-eyed. Of course he only wanted to use me for personal gain. Whatever, Y/N. Just avoid him. Do not interact! “I’m definitely heading off now. Bye.” You grabbed your books, leaving the library and a slightly confused and shocked Jeongin behind. He’s not worth it, Y/N.

You buckled Mina in her little seat in the trolley, lightly humming as you pushed her along. After realising that you were out of ramen (a staple study food, fight me if you disagree), you had scrambled to pick up Mina from daycare before rushing over to the local grocery store, keen to get at least some ramen to fuel your study session after putting Mina to bed. That is if she’s able to sleep. Hopefully Jeongin won’t— You reached for the last pack of your favourite ramen, a hand brushing over yours to grab it with you. You whipped your head around, gaze meeting— yet again— Mr Yang Jeongin. How many times do I have to see him today??? This feels like a cruel joke. It’s not funny! You coughed, pointedly looking between Jeongin and his grip on the ramen you had so obviously grabbed before him. He sighed, pushing his specs up the bridge of his nose, pushing his hair back with the other hand, hand still fixated on the ramen packet, “Please, Y/N. I need this to study.” You inhaled sharply, trying not to be bothered by the impeccable College Boyfriend vibe he was exhibiting, dressed simply in a sweatshirt and track pants, “So. Do. I. In fact, I need it a lot more than you since your singing keeps up the whole neighbourhood. And no! I’m not calling you a bad singer, because on the contrary, you’re quite brilliant and I honestly don’t know why you didn’t decide to become a singer instead of a teacher. I mean, do you really want to waste your life away working at a daycare?” You rambled. Jeongin looked at you, stunned, loosening his grip on the ramen, and handing it to you, his cheeks lightly dusted with pink, “...You know what? You can have it. I’ll just buy... this one! Yep. This one.” He scurried away, leaving you stunned, “But that’s not even ramen!”You called out after him. “Doesn’t matter!”

“Mina, please. Isn’t your crying at least making you tired?” You rocked your sister, exhausted as you looked at the clock— thirty minutes she’s been crying. Jeongin had decided not to sing tonight for some reason. But your sister still had difficulty sleeping. Perhaps he is actually a decent human being... although, I can’t say that I don’t miss his singing... what? Yes, you can, Y/N. The guy literally kept you up til three because of his singing. Mina just felt so inspired by his vocals that she had to try herself... by crying. Ugh. The walls started to vibrate as you sighed, Complimented him too soon. His melodic tone carrying through to the nursery, your sister’s not so melodic cries mixing in even louder than his singing. You steeled yourself, done with this nonsense. Putting on a coat, you stomped out of your apartment, knocking insistently on Jeongin’s door. The door opened to reveal a bewildered Jeongin as you thrusted your screaming sister into his arms, “You started this. You fix it.”

Jeongin held the door to his apartment with one hand, the other arm supporting your screaming sister. Allowing you into the apartment, you observed how spotless it was, giving it an appraising look. “Seungmin’s my roommate. Hence, why it’s so clean. It’s all he does when he gets home from the hospital.” Jeongin explained whilst trying to rock Mina to sleep. “I’m surprised he puts up with your singing.” You noted. “He works nights.” Jeongin deadpanned. You opened your mouth, closing it when you saw his attention turn towards Mina. Cooing at her, he slowly sunk himself into the cushions of the couch, lowly humming a melody familiar to the ones you had heard through the wall. However, it was more of a ballad version. A soft smile crept onto your face as you observed the two, your heart aching at the adorable sight. Mina slowly fluttered her eyes, slowly closing them as Jeongin hummed further, his chest vibrating comfortingly from his singing, the movement lulling her... to sleep! You looked amazingly at Jeongin, his triumphant gaze finding yours. You tried to take Mina off him as she fussed in her sleep, cuddling further into his chest, you sighed, putting your hands up in defeat — afraid to wake her. “So... care to explain why I had to do this?” Jeongin whispered, looking pointedly at you. “Well...you’ve been keeping her up with your trot singing that she’s been eventually falling asleep at almost 11 pm. The thing that I’m weirded out the most by is that she cried at the lack of your singing and when you sang a softer version of that folk song, she fell asleep straight away.” You explained. “Babies are weird like that. But why did you have to give her to me to calm down?” Jeongin asked, confused. “Well one, you’re studying teaching and working at a daycare. And two, you started this!” You numbered. “We’re in the same class and she’s your sister!” Jeongin pointed out, eyes wide. “Look. The main reason really is your singing. Why do you have to sing so late, anyways? It’s not like you’re preparing for any assignment... we don’t have to create a song for our assignment... right?” You asked, tone slightly laced with concern. “No, no.” He dismissed your concerns, sighing, “The real reason why I’m singing so late at night is actually because I’m preparing for something. I don’t really have time otherwise to prepare for it since I have uni and work.” “What are you preparing for?” You scrunched your eyebrows quizzically. “You have to promise not to laugh.” He looked at you pointedly. “I can’t promise that.” You scoffed. “Well then I can’t tell you.” He lifted his head, looking elsewhere. “Fine. Fine!” You whispered harshly. “Okay, well I’m doing this competition that’s basically a talent show for unusual talents. And mine is... trot singing. The whole point of this talent show, though, is to actually achieve your New Year goals and resolutions.” “And yours is... to win with your trot singing?” You looked at him bewilderingly. “No.” He lightly slapped his forehead, disappointed at your lack of piecing together what little information he provided you with. “My resolution is to perform on stage. However, my only formal singing training is in trot singing.” “Ah, I see.” “Yeah... you should come! Only if you can. Obviously. No pressure.” He asked quickly. “Oh! I’m surprised you want me there after everything that happened.” You said sheepishly. “What happened?” He widened his eyes in confusion. “Well— you were kind of a jerk to me all of today.” You noted. “I was? Oh—“ “You ignored me this morning, put on a face when I dropped Mina off at daycare, purely because you were at work and tried to talk to me in tutorial after that. Then you nearly stole my ramen!” You interrupted. “Oh wow, I really did all of that today? Anyway, let me explain. In the morning, yes I saw you and I could’ve yelled a hello, I admit it. But I was very stressed since Seungmin is normally the one to wake me up when he comes back from the hospital but I think he must’ve gone home with his partner or something because he didn’t come home last night, and I had no way to contact him because Jisung threw his phone in the bin.” He explained. “He what?” You recoiled in bewilderment at the last part. “Long story. Anyway, I actually just go straight to autopilot whenever I have to converse with the parents. And since it’s my first week, I wasn’t expecting to see someone I know, let alone you, so I just went straight to my Customer Service Polite Conversation Autopilot Mode... customer service is so hard. As for the tutorial thing, I wanted to study with you! Believe it or not, I actually do appreciate your company.” He said pointedly. You blushed, clearing your throat, “That doesn’t explain the ramen thing, though.” He sighed, “Ramen is my study food too, you know. But I figured you needed it a lot more than me... also your compliment caught me off guard.” He muttered the last part, you smirked slightly as you heard it. “Anyway, I would really appreciate it if you could come because... well, you- you’re one of my good friends.” He rubbed his neck tentatively. Your chest ached slightly, feelings of disappointment infiltrating your head, only to be met with confusion... and sudden realisation. Oh. No.

[00:37] (Jeongin) hey! you left all of a sudden, but I’ve emailed you the details to the comp. hope you can come :) [10:55] (Jeongin)...Y/N? Are you still alive? Actually, I know you are. But why are you avoiding me? It had been a couple of days since you realised your feelings for Jeongin. Trying to avoid him at any costs, you changed up your schedule — only taking morning tutorials, making sure you didn’t run into him wherever you went. It didn’t help that your lives were so intertwined. Mina had gotten particularly attached to him — you watched her from outside the daycare, her little legs wrapped around his, clinging onto him like a koala and reluctant to let him go when she saw you at the gate. That certainly did not help. But what could you do? In order to avoid hardship, you have to cut the relationship in the bud. Especially since he only sees you as a friend. You snapped your attention to the door, as a knock resounded through your apartment, redirecting your attention from your phone to... a very unkempt Seungmin, waiting behind the door. “Hey, Y/N! I was wondering if you could do me a favour?” He asked, words rushed. “That depends on what it is.” You crossed your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “I need you to go to Jeongin’s talent show for me.” He said. You shut the door immediately on him, “Y/N’s not here.” “I— what? Y/N, please. I need to go to the hospital today and he really wants you to go!” Seungmin pleaded from behind the door. “Why can’t you get any of his hyungs to attend? He has like six other ones.” You proposed. “He really wants you to come. He really likes you, Y/N.” Seungmin sighed. You opened the door slightly, peaking out from around the door, “Yeah. As a friend.” “What gave you that impression?” Seungmin looked at you confusedly. “He said it to my face?” You said, equally as confused. “Oh my god. He like likes you, okay? He didn’t tell anyone except us two about the contest. He told me because we live together but he told you because he has feelings for you!” Seungmin inhaled sharply, trying ridiculously hard not to roll his eyes in annoyance. “You’re not just telling me this so I would go?” You raised an eyebrow sceptically. “No. I have nothing to gain out of that because if you found out I was lying, I know you’ll hold a grudge against me forever, and as neighbours that really would not work out.” He said a matter of factly. “...alright. Fine. I’ll go. And you do realise we’re also friends? Friends generally shouldn’t lie to each other.” You looked at him pointedly. “Right. That.” He said shortly. “Anyway, you should hurry since you only have... twenty minutes til it starts.” He checked his watch. You gasped, “And you only thought to tell me now?” “Some of us have more important things to do than helping your love story progress. For example, saving lives. So, goodbye!” He waved, ushering you to close the door before sprinting down the hall. Time to sort this out... I guess.

You rushed to the venue after purchasing flowers and chocolate and organising for Jisung and his partner to come babysit... although you weren’t exactly trusting of them after hearing of their lawsuit rendezvous at the shopping centre. That was irrelevant right now, though. After sitting through more than fifteen of the most unusual acts at the talent show, you questioned how Jeongin even found out about it. It wasn’t until he entered on stage, lights dimming around him as he sang a slow, but emotive trot song— eyes searching over the crowd, only to lock onto yours as he belted his last note, the audience standing in applause as he stood back, catching his breath, eyes never leaving yours. “And there you have it folks! First of all, a big congratulations to all of you— you’ve successfully achieved at least one of your New Years resolutions!” The MC walked on stage, passing Jeongin on his way out, “But now, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for— the winner of this new year’s resolution talent contest is... Yang Jeongin!” A hearty applause echoed throughout the room, loud cheers erupting as Jeongin entered the stage again, you stood up, giving him an encouraging smile whilst cheering, “Okay, well first of all, thank you for the opportunity to do this. I don’t think I would’ve ever performed if it weren’t for making it a New Years resolution.” Low laughter hummed from the audience, “I guess— another person to thank is... well... someone that I really like and have for a while- Y/N. Even though our whole relationship basically consisted of a bunch of misunderstandings, you still came to this competition for me. At least, I hope it was for me. It’d be awkward if it wasn’t, since this is a sort of confession thing. Actually— do you think you could join me on stage?” The audience turned to you as you stared at him in shock. Shaking out of your reverie, you slowly stood up, making your way to the stage as he held out a hand, helping you up the stairs. You gave him a nervous but small smile, “Congratulations on your win!” You handed him the flowers, as he pulled you in for a quick hug. “Y/N, you’re probably the coolest person I’ve ever befriended. You’re incredibly driven, caring, and probably the person I respect most in my life. The way you’re achieving all your goals whilst managing the stress and struggles of raising your younger sibling astounds me, and honestly, that’s probably the feature that I find most admirable about you.” Jeongin spoke into his mic, gaze deepening into yours, the audience “aww”ing in response to him. “So, I guess where I’m trying to get at is— will you go out with me?” He asked as the audience cheered you on. You took the mic off him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “I’d love to.” He pulled you into a tight embrace as the audience cheered loudly, whistling as well. As you exited the auditorium, entering the foyer, you intertwined your hands with Jeongin’s, “Where should we go for our first date?” You asked, quickly putting on your coat and a beanie, wearily eying the snowfall outside, “I don’t know, I was thinking karaoke?” Jeongin suggested. You scoffed, “No.” “Why not?” He asked, genuinely confused. “Because you’d absolutely crush me. That’s why. Also, I know you’re only saying that because they gave you yearly access to the karaoke club as your prize.” You rolled your eyes. “You wound me with your words, Y/N. Do you think I’d cheapskate on our date?” He placed his hand to his chest, faking a gasp. “Never.” You mimicked his gesture as you exited the foyer. “Yah! Y/N!” “I’m joking, I’m joking! Ahh— don’t tickle me-“ You gasped as his fingers found your sides, giggles unwillingly being emitted. “Only if you give me another kiss.” He tapped his lips, you sighed, leaning over to give him another kiss, as he lightly drew your neck closer to him, deepening the kiss. You pulled back, eyes sparkling with joy, “Well...Even though I know you’ll trash me at it...Race you to the karaoke club?” You proposed, stretching your muscles. “Really? We just had the most epic kiss and now all you’re concerned about is karaoke?!” He raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Last one to the karaoke place gets no kisses for the rest of the day!” “Oh, you’re on.”

Thank you for reading! Would you like to read more?

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deonideatta · 4 years ago

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hi hi i heard you like chief kim and i'm here to get all the intel on why it's a good drama 😊 and what you love about park jae bum's other dramas 😊 pls let me know if there's romance bc that's the oxygen i breathe when i watch a show 💕

Hello!!! Thank you for asking me about Chief Kim!!!! I can go on about it for ages lol. This got a bit long so i’m putting it under a cut

Chief Kim (aka Good Manager) is a comedy office drama with 20 eps, and it aired in 2017. There isn’t a main romance plotline, but don’t let that put you off! It’s an incredible drama in so many ways. (tho there is a subtle romance side plot, but it doesn’t involve the main character and it’s never the main focus, though it is cute). It does feature a bromance that was so great that the two actors literally won an award for it tho lol, so there’s also that!

In a way, the general premise is somewhat similar to Vincenzo in that it’s the main character and an unlikely team of others fighting a big corporation. The comedic tone is also more or less the same. The drama follows Kim Seong Ryong (the titular Chief Kim, played by Namgoong Min), a man with a talent for handling numbers who goes from running a seedy accounting firm to quite accidentally becoming a champion of employees rights in one of the biggest corporations in the country. He originally joins the company with the goal of embezzling a lot money and moving abroad, but he gets swept up in office politics surrounding high executives and the sinister goings on surrounding the position he was recruited for, as well as the shady things the higher-ups want him to do and the suspicion of the other members of his department. Eventually he starts to work alongside them to fight the corruption of the higher ups, and quickly becomes the bane of top management’s existence by being so incredibly annoying that they begin to regret hiring him.

It’s the kind of drama that really gets you to laugh, while still being incredibly heartwarming. The main character is so unashamedly funny, and the character dynamics are all so warm, and none of it ever seems forced. The first tag for the drama on MyDramaList is “character development”, and that says a lot! There’s so much growth that goes on for all the characters, even some of the villains! It’s especially funny because to begin with all the good things Kim Seong Ryeong does are completely by accident, and he’s annoyed but also pleased with all the attention it gets him. Over time he begins to own it, and begins to actively try to stand up to the corrupt people at the top of the company. The other highlight for me besides the humor is definitely the characters. From the eccentric main character, to the no-nonsense second in command in his department Yoon Ha Kyung, to the aggressive finance director Seo Yul who is always eating (one of my all time favourite characters, played by 2PM’s Junho), to the janitor lady who always roasts everyone, there isn’t a single dull character, whether good or bad. And Seo Yul gets one of the best character arcs I’ve ever seen in a kdrama. You get to watch the characters struggle and triumph, and you feel for them because their struggles feel so real, and the drama really gets you invested in them. You see the ways in which they fight to survive as normal working class citizens and you want them to win.

It differs from Vincenzo in that the main character isn’t considered evil and loses his less savoury traits over the course of the drama (his character arc is one of becoming a more upstanding citizen), and the message is one of fighting against corporate greed using the corporate system against itself in order to make things better for the average working citizen. But there’s the same plotting, and the same feeling of rooting for the protagonist team to win as you watch them plot and plan. I never rewatch things, but i’ve rewatched Chief Kim twice already and i’m looking forward to rewatching it again soon (just writing about it is making me want to rewatch it right now lol). It especially hits well for me because i love office dramas, and the humor and the bromance are just right. (Also, not entirely related, but it’s the first drama Kim Seonho was in!)

Another Park Jaebum drama i can definitely recommend is The Fiery Priest! It’s also a comedy action drama with 20 eps (released in 2019), and it follows Kim Hae Il (Kim Nam Gil), a catholic priest with a real temper, as he works to solve the mystery surrounding the death of a senior priest. No romance there either, but it’s got the same humor as Chief Kim and Vincenzo, and the same overarching found family trope (that really shines for this one). It’s darker than Chief Kim, but not as dark as Vincenzo. The plot is very intriguing, and it’s the kind of drama you feel compelled to keep watching to see what happens next. And the host of characters in that drama is still one of my favourites to this day. Every character was incredibly written, and they all played vital roles in the overall story. Again, lots of character development all round, and great character arcs not just for the main character (even for a few of the villains!). Plus it was lovely to watch the various characters interact, get closer, and build relationships. Such an iconic squad. Not to mention how funny it is?? And the fight scenes??? In fact, I enjoyed it so much that when I checked Park Jaebum’s page on MyDramaList after watching it around June last year and saw Vincenzo as an upcoming project, I added it to my plan to watch list immediately even though there was only a single line of synopsis lol. It’s also got an absolute banger of a soundtrack!

When you think about it, all three (Chief Kim, TFP and Vincenzo) can be simplified to “guy with dubious past sets out to fight corruption and creates a great support circle in the process”. All three are dramas of finding people who care about you and are willing to fight alongside you, and fighting for your convictions/what you think is right. Each main character starts out as a somewhat solitary figure, and you get to watch as they each find people who are willing to fight alongside them and support them. What exactly those specific convictions are varies in each drama, but Park Jaebum writes the character development arcs incredibly each time, and the relationships between the characters are so real and so satisfying to watch. And yet the integrity of the main character in each drama is never compromised either, it’s shown that they can grow and become better without losing themselves. The growth is also in the way that they learn to work with and rely on others, because teamwork makes the dream work. And then to cap it all off he lets them have victories, and he makes it SO satisfying??? There are highs and there are lows, and you feel all of those right there with the characters, which makes the victories feel so so good. In each we see the ensemble cast get involved with the fight and the plotting, and we get to see all their epic plans and their execution, and the victories they win that build up over time. And it’s so satisfying to me! I love it a lot, just thinking about it is making me smile lol. It also shows how well humor and darker/more serious plotlines/events are balanced in the dramas, neither is compromised in favour of the other, but it always works so well that the humor never feels forced or out of place. As someone who doesn’t like overbearingly dark shows, I really appreciate that. They all give you lots to laugh at, while not losing any of the plot to the funny.

Of course there are differences, notably the romance, and the fact that Vincenzo is bad vs bad rather than good vs bad like the other two. They deal more with redemption (especially The Fiery Priest), but that works for the stories that are being told, and it’s very well executed.

It’s worth noting that Park Jaebum also wrote Good Doctor and 4 seasons of God’s Quiz. I haven’t checked those out yet, but I’ve heard good things about all of them. He also wrote Blood, I haven’t seen that one either but opinions seem to be split on how good it was. All of those are medical dramas (which is the reason I haven’t watched them lol, i can’t stand medical dramas) from before 2017, when he wrote Chief Kim. It seems he’s been on a roll since then, good for him and good for us lol. You can see everything he’s written on his MyDramaList page.

Overall I enjoyed the Park Jaebum dramas I have seen for first and foremost the comedy, but also for the warmth of the character relationships and for how well developed/written each character is. And I love how he balances the humor with more poignant/darker moments, I laughed a lot watching all three dramas, but I’ve cried over each of them as well. It’s a good balance to have, it gives you a good plot to be interested in, but doesn’t keep you stressed and sombre the whole way through. I’ve seen people say that Vincenzo wouldn’t be as good if it wasn’t so wacky, and I fully agree. It’s the same for both TFP and Chief Kim, and that balance is definitely what I appreciate most in Park Jaebum’s dramas. I know I will laugh, but I also know I will get an incredible plot and incredible characters, and that’s really important for me. Plus I know I can trust that there will be a good ending because the writer cares about his characters.

I definitely recommend checking out both TFP and Chief Kim after Vincenzo is done, especially since they’re so similar in terms of comedic tone and basic plot direction. If you ever get to watching either of them feel free to hmu to chat about it!! There’s lots of plot stuff that can be can discussed.

lol this got v long (i have lots to say about how much i love these dramas haha), but I hope it’s helpful!!!

#a breakdown on why i love the park jaebum dramas i've seen so far #it was nice to sit and actually think about it/write the reason out lol #im very passionate about it sdfsdf #chief kim and the fiery priest are perhaps my favourite dramas ever #and vincenzo is looking to join them #vincenzo #the fiery priest #chief kim #kdrama #no spoilers

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elizabeethan · 4 years ago

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Forget What I Said (It’s Not What I Meant) 2/3

She continues to do what she does best. She ignores her feelings until she can’t anymore, and she deals with them by replacing them with the pleasure he brings her. A part of her tells her that she can’t continue doing this, but a bigger part of her tells her that it’s okay, because once they get back to Storybrooke, he’ll leave in favor of the sea or of finding another realm to pillage and plunder. Once he’s gone, she can forget any of this ever happened and move on.

It’s a perfect plan, except it doesn’t work. Because he stays.

Hello! @kmomof4 requested Monday morning smut and I am here to deliver. But remember, with great smut comes great angst. That is the way of CS fic. And so I give you part 2 of my @neverlandnewyear fic.

Also, @donteattheappleshook and I are aware that we’re basically writing the same fic. That’s how this all started. so enjoy a double dose of Neverland nonsense.

finally, thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being my beta and my friend

rated E for smut and language

~3600 words

Part 1

Read on Ao3

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

She’s got to stop doing this. She told herself it would end after they got home to Storybrooke. Once they got home and he went off to his pirate life, things would go back to normal for her and she could work on getting her life back together. She didn’t expect the bastard to stick around.

She certainly didn’t expect him to tell Neal that he was backing off.

“I thought you were going to leave,” she shouts angrily as she boards his stupid ship. He pops up from below deck, holding his hand over his eyes to block the harsh afternoon sun.

“Come again, Swan?”

She rolls her eyes and walks closer to him, approaching the steps to below deck with forceful pressure. “It’s been two weeks and you're still here. I thought you were leaving after we got home.”

He shrugs, leaning his propped-up elbow against the archway he stands in. “Sorry to disappoint, love.”

Huffing angrily, she turns from him and rolls her eyes once more. “So what, you're just gonna hang around now?”

“It’s quite a quaint little town,” he reasons.

“And where do you get off telling Neal you're backing off? You realize he’s not going to let it go now, right?”

He hums in a way that makes her so much angrier. “And that upsets you?”

“Yes it upsets me!” she shouts, throwing her arms up and letting them slap against her thighs as she spins to face him again. He straightens and raises a brow, stepping onto the main deck with her and getting just a bit too close.

“Is there anything to be done to rectify that, Swan?” he asks, his voice husky and rough and his eyes sparkling too much in the bright sun.

“No.”

“Nothing?”

She laughs breathily, angrily, and says, “shut up,” before grabbing onto his lapels and forcing their lips together in a heated kiss.

He chuckles against her, pulling her towards the ladder that leads below, to his quarters and out of the line of sight of anyone who may be walking by.

“We have to stop doing this,” she mumbles as he presses her against the steps once they get to the bottom. His lips find the sensitive skin of her neck as his body grinds into her’s, making her moan.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks breathily as he licks along her throat.

“No.”

Lifting her shirt above her head, his lips find her hardened nipple once he pushes the fabric of her bra away, licking and sucking in a way that makes her moan again. “Neither do I,” he says against her, the hot air blowing against her moistened skin making her shiver.

He trails his mouth down her torso, biting her flesh and soothing it with his tongue before he reaches the button of her jeans and pops it open. Sliding the fabric down her legs slowly, she feels the sharp, cool metal of his hook gliding along her skin and she shivers again, breath stuttering when she feels it brushing over the curls between her legs.

With a smirk, he lifts one of her legs above his shoulder, granting himself the access he needs as she sits on the edge of one of the steps. “I must say, I’m glad that we’re continuing our little tryst,” he says, his mouth so close to her core that she can feel his hot breath over her. “As much fun as we had amidst the trees, having you on my ship is something else entirely.”

She wants to tell him to stop talking so much, because she can’t stand to think about the fact that she’s allowing this to continue, but her words fall flat when he drags his tongue along her core, gathering her arousal and latching his lips to her clit. She lets out a breathy moan as he artfully traces her skin with his tongue before swirling a finger around her opening. He alternates the pressure and speed of his tongue against her before sliding his middle finger inside, curling it slightly and making her stomach flip as she moans again.

The way he touches her is addictive. She can’t stop herself from thrusting her hips into him slightly, longing for more from him and nearly slipping off the ladder as she does so. He chuckles against her and the reverberations makes her whimper pathetically before he slips a second finger inside. “Fuck,” she groans.

“That’s the idea, love. But not until you come for me first.”

A third finger finds its way into her and she cries out, squeezing around them as he speeds up his ministrations on her clip. He always knows exactly what she needs, and it’s something she tries, and fails, not to think about constantly. Perhaps if she had any semblance of self-control, she wouldn’t keep coming to him. But the way he touches her like he’s known her for centuries and the way he talks to her in exactly the right way is too good to pass up.

She comes hard around him, squeezing her walls on his fingers and her thighs on his head as she falls with a shout. He gives her almost no time to recover before he drops her leg and stands, holding the back of her knee with his hook and wrestling with the laces of his trousers before he’s thrusting himself inside her. Finally.

There’s nothing like the feeling of him buried in her. She can try and deny it all she wants, but she can’t ignore the fact that she’s never felt this good in her entire life. She likely never will again, once she finally puts a stop to this. She puts away the thoughts of ending this… thing between them in favor of focusing on the way he slides in and out of her effortlessly at the most perfect pace. She cries out when he flicks his fingers against her clit again. Her last orgasm was so powerful and so recent that she finds herself falling off the edge again in record time. “Don’t stop,” she begs, as she does every time, but he never does.

“Come on, love,” he encourages, thrusting a bit harder into her. “I can feel how close you are; come for me again.”

She listens to his commanding voice, because what choice does she have, really? He knows her body too well, and she can feel his smirk against her neck as she lets herself fall off the cliff’s edge once again before he follows suit. His own moans are muffled against her skin as he holds her tightly to himself. It’s too tight, they’re too close, but she can’t help herself from tightening her own hold around his shoulders as she catches her breath.

She realizes herself and loosens her grip, pushing on the front of his shoulders until he releases her leg and backs away from her. His chuckle is self-deprecating as he tosses her a small cloth. “Aloof as always, aye Swan?”

She rolls her eyes as she cleans herself up and hops back into her jeans. “We really have to stop doing this.”

“Why?”

She laughs, but it comes out as more of a scoff. “Because it’s a bad idea. We’re not… doing this,” she says, gesturing her hand towards him and shrugging.

“Well,” he says as he ties his laces back up. “It appears as if we are doing this. If you want to put a stop to it, I suppose you’ll need to discontinue your visits.”

She clears her throat, adjusting her top and trying to fix her hair. “I suppose I will,” she agrees.

“Of course,” he starts slowly, coyly, “no one said we have to stop.”

“We do,” she says immediately, shutting down any suggestions he may be considering making. “I have responsibilities; I can’t keep sneaking off like a teenager. I have to put my family first.”

“Ah,” he says, looking down at his feet and looking as insecure as she’s ever seen him. “So I can assume you’ve made your choice, then?” Stilling, she sighs and turns away from the ladder she was about to climb. “You do know that having feelings is not a bad thing.”

“I don’t…” She doesn't have anything to say.

It’s his turn to sigh. “Aye, love, I know. If you’d prefer we stop here, then that’s what we shall do.”

She shouldn’t be surprised that he isn’t putting up a fight. He’s a man of honor, as he often claims. The fact that he’s putting her needs above his own desires shouldn’t leave her speechless. But in reality, all she can think of is how hard Neal has been fighting to be with her, and how unwilling he has been to take no for an answer.

~~~~

“Emma!” Mary Margaret calls once she walks through the door. She probably should have checked on the appearance of her hair and clothes before she walked home, but she’s hopeful that no one will know what she was up to in the middle of the afternoon.

“Hi,” she says back as she shuts the door.

“Where were you? We missed you after breakfast.”

“Uh,” she starts, her cheeks flaming and her steps towards the fridge halting. “I was, um—”

“Oooh,” her mother responds with a smirk. “I see.”

“What?” Emma demands as she takes a few more steps and grabs a water bottle from the fridge.

With a coy chuckle, her mother says, “Emma, you’re blushing, and your shirt is… well,” as she nods downwards. When Emma looks that way, she sees a bit of her bra uncovered before scrambling to straighten out her shirt. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me what you were up to. I think I can put the pieces together.”

She hopes beyond hope that that isn’t true. “Well, whatever you’re assuming, don’t worry. I already put a stop to it.”

“Oh, honey, no,” she responds, much to Emma’s surprise. “I can tell that you’ve been a bit torn lately, but it’s clear that you’ve been happier.”

She takes a sip of water, unsure if she can handle a hope speech right now, and shrugs. “It’s not worth it,” she says. “Everyone I’ve ever been with… it’s just not worth it.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says firmly as she walks over to her daughter and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Never say that. You’re right, it is a risk. But it’s one you need to take knowing that there are uncertainties. It’s scary, and there’s the chance that you can be hurt, but Emma, the pros so outweigh the cons. Trust me, some things are worth it. Love is worth it.”

“Woah,” Emma says, “no one said anything about love. I don’t have any feelings for—”

She laughs and places a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, I know a woman in love when I see one. And you said it in Neverland yourself! He is the father of your child. He’s your first love. There’s nothing wrong with still having those feelings, especially if things between you are… physical.”

She chokes on her water, placing it down and coughing, hitting her chest, hoping to not expose one of the many bites hidden under her hair. “Mary Margaret,” she stutters, “it’s not like that.”

“I realize this is awkward. We aren't exactly roommates anymore, so maybe girl-talk is off the table. But, Emma... if there’s one thing I would tell you, it’s to listen to your heart.”

She scoffs. Her heart has certainly led her astray in the past, and she’s unsure why she should trust it now. The first time she did, she ended up alone in prison and pregnant at 17. The last time she did, he died in her arms. Her heart has never had her best interests in mind, she thinks. Perhaps that’s why she started things with the pirate; because he could never be someone her heart would fall for. Perhaps that’s why she feels so betrayed now that she knows that isn’t working.

He’s made it impossible for her to ignore her feelings. To ignore the fact that she even has feelings. She wishes so desperately that she could put these to the back of her mind and ignore them as she has always done. She wishes she could ignore the way he knows her so intimately without trying. The way he can read her immediately and invariably. The way he knows exactly what she needs, and not just sexually. The way he cradles her when they’ve finished and the way he lets her go when she asks.

It’s too much, so she ignores it.

~~~~

She swore she wouldn’t wind up here.

She promised herself she would move on, and that her yellow bug would not find its way to the port on that or any night.

She vowed that her feelings, which she continues to stubbornly ignore, would not interfere with her plans.

But now here she is, watching him happily and fancifully stroke his stupid hook through her hair, tucking her flyaways back into her bun.

She hates herself for sitting here in her car, under the pretense of patrol, watching them flirt with each other and wishing it were her.

Tink laughs, Hook does too, and Emma nearly retches.

~~~~

“Emma!” She hears from the diner door days later, and when she turns she’s met with exactly what she was expecting: disappointment.

“Hi,” she mumbles once he sits across from her.

“Hey,” he says happily, giving her a smile she once trusted. The one that convinced her to do what she would never do now— now that she’s an adult with the experience and knowledge needed to make decisions. “How’s it going,” he asks causally.

“Fine,” she grumbles, noting her near-empty mug and the fact that he doesn’t notice her need for a refill.

“Cool.”

Things between them are far too awkward, and she wishes she weren’t in this diner. She wishes Henry hadn’t just left for school and that she had a bit of a buffer between herself and the threat before her.

She wishes she didn’t see him as a threat.

“Ems” he starts, leaning across the table at her. As he does so, she sees the Neal she knew twelve years ago and lets her guard down faster than she thought possible. “Go out with me,” he says in a tone that demands an affirmative response.

She clears her throat, hoping to remain strong and to consider what he put her through the last time they were involved with each other. “I don’t know,” she responds.

He smiles at her, that crooked smile she recognizes as the one her 17 year old self fell in love with, and takes a sip from his drink. “Come on,” he says. “You already stood me up once. I don’t have to ask you out again, but I am.”

She blushes at his mention of the last time they were here— when he waited for her to show up and she didn’t. “I’m sorry,” she says, without thinking about it and without truly meaning it.

“Hey, I get it. We went through a lot together, the whole Bonnie and Clyde act. But we’ve both grown up. And Henry thinks it’s a good idea.”

With a roll of her eyes she says, “of course he does. He’s eleven, why wouldn’t he want his parents to be together.”

“Why shouldn’t they be?”

“Neal,” she starts, but she isn't sure where she should go from here.

Before she can decide, he’s standing from the booth and she almost feels relief at the thought of him leaving. She’s almost able to take in another breath, let go of the one she’s been holding, but before she can, he’s sitting beside her and pushing her down to the end of the bench, encasing her in the booth and making it impossible for her to run. “Come on,” he says softly, leaning his face towards her.

The confusion she feels is overwhelming as he leans towards her, the warmth of his breath washing over her mouth and the scent of his cologne taking over her senses. She hasn’t been in this position in twelve years, and now that she’s back, she isn’t sure what to do. If he had found her here a year or two ago, she would have jumped at the opportunity to be with him again. But now, something has changed. Now, she realizes what life is like without him. Not only without him, but with someone else.

When his lips press to hers, the only thought she has is how chapped they are and how greasy his nose is as it glides against her own. The only coherent thought she has is how she almost raises her fingers to slide through his hair, but stops herself. She thinks about how wrong his goatee feels against her chin. She thinks about how unpleasurable it is when he bites her bottom lip lightly.

Breaking away from him, she wipes the back of her hand against her mouth to remove any evidence of him being there and pinches her brows together. “I don’t,” she says, but again, she’s unable to form a thought.

“So good it left you speechless?” he asks, and she scoffs.

“I have to go,” she says to him promptly, pushing on his shoulders and hoping that he backs off of the bench enough for her to exit.

“What do you mean?” he asks her forcefully.

“I mean I have to go. There’s something I have to…” She can’t continue, can’t finish her thought. She knows she can’t tell him what she’s about to do. Knows she can’t explain to him that, despite ending things between herself and Hook, she needs him more than she needs to breathe right now.

“Seriously?” His voice is vapid as she stands. “I’m Henry’s father. You can’t seriously be telling me that there’s someone out there who’s a better match for you.”

With another scoff and a shake to her head, she grabs her jacket and heads out the door.

~~~~

The ship is silent when she arrives, trying her hardest to sneak across the deck without the heels of her boots clicking too loudly against the aged wood. The problem is that her adrenaline is absolutely spiking and she’s finding it difficult to slow herself down. What she needs is the release that he’s guaranteed to bring her.

“Swan,” he says once he arrives on the main deck she’s trying to sneak across.

“Oh,” she exclaims in surprise. “Hi.”

“It’s the middle of the morning, love, is something wrong?”

“No,” she lies.

“Shouldn’t you be at the station?”

With a shrug and a few steps closer to him, she says, “something came up.”

He sighs. His nod and the purse of his lips tell her that he understands her meaning and why she’s here, so she proceeds towards him until her hands find his shoulders. “We can’t,” he says, much to her surprise.

She draws in her brows in confusion and leans towards him, saying, “of course we can.”

“No,” he says forcefully, pushing her back with gentle conviction. “We can’t. You said you wanted to end things.”

“Tomorrow,” she tries to reason. Then, “I want you now,” as she pushes forward again.

But he’s faster and stronger and he pulls away from her and grabs her wrist, keeping her from grabbing his lapel as she normally would do. “No.”

With an angry, childish scoff, she says, “come on, seriously?”

“Do you want me, or do you want a distraction?”

“A distraction from what?” she demands, practically shoving herself away from him.

“You tell me. I’m willing to bet something happened that’s making you come here. Something with Baelfire, perhaps?”

With an indignant laugh, she turns away from him. “Please. You think you know me so well?”

“Aye, I do. I think something happened that made you think and you couldn’t handle it. So you’ve come here to use me again.”

“Again!”

“You’re telling me, honestly, that you coming here every other night isn’t because of Baelfire, or because your mother pushes you to be with him, or because Henry wants his parents to be together? Are you honestly trying to tell me that you don’t come here as a distraction from all of this?”

“Hook,” she tries, but again, she has nothing to say.

“I have feelings for you, Emma. I want to be with you. With you.” His tone is so real and his eye contact with her so deep and intense that she has to look away.

“I could’ve sworn you wanted to be with Tink from the way you two were ogling each other the other night,” she says accidentally, slapping her palm against her mouth as she lets slip that she was here.

His laugh is self deprecating. It’s almost hateful as he shakes his head and turns away from her. “I want you, love, more than anything. But I don’t want to be your secret. I’m not willing to sit around and wait for you to come to your senses. If you don’t have feelings for me as I do you, then I think you should go.”

“Hook,” she tries again uselessly.

“Please,” he begs, refusing to look her way for the first time. “I’ve known enough heartbreak in my life. I’ve learned to prevent it where I can.”

With that, with his words hanging heavy between them and her eyes glassing over in response, she turns away and stalks towards the gangplank, careful not to let the tears fall and the sobs break loose until she’s locked away in her bug.

~~~~

#CSNLNY #neverland smut #season 3 au #canon divergence au #no curse au #captain swan #cs ff #ouat ff #cs smut #captain swan smut #yes I did steal that scene from bridgerton

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dameronology · 5 years ago

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the one with all the jealousy (obi-wan x reader)

summary: obi-wan kenobi + ‘if anybody asks, i’m taken/if anybody wants to know, he is too’ {taken, hayley williams} (for @kaminobiwan)

this has some low-key jealous obi-wan kenobi and not to be a hoe on main but i’m kinda here for it. and i am fully aware that the title is ripped directly from a friends’ episode but i already have a steve one called the one where he gets jealous so i had to kinda chop and change

warnings: there’s a sleazy middle aged senator doing sleazy aged middle senator things but other than that, nothing

enjoy,

- jazz

(p.s my tag list won’t work bc i’m on mobile, i’m sorry D:)

You usually enjoyed parties. With a drink in your hand and your colleagues surrounding you, it was easy to lose track of time - but not tonight. With Obi-Wan Kenobi stood just a few metres from you, occasionally giving you a knowing nod or quick wink, it was hard to focus on anything else.

Sadly, your Jedi wasn’t at the party as your plus one. He was there on a protection detail for one of the senators in the crowd; you weren’t sure which one. There was some details that mattered and that wasn’t one of them. The ones that did matter, for example, was the fact Obi-Wan looked more attractive than usual. You weren’t entirely sure that he looked any different - it was probably just the fact you wanted something you couldn’t have (at least not until you were behind closed doors).

‘So.’ The senator that you’d been talking to shuffled slightly in his seat. ‘Did you come with anybody tonight?’

You were too busy staring across the room at Obi-Wan to notice the senator’s body language. He was leaning towards you, one hand lingering dangerously close to your thigh, a knowing smile on his lips.

‘Hello?’

‘Sorry, what were you saying?’ You snapped out your trance.

‘I was asking if you came with anyone tonight - I mean, I haven’t seen you with anyone.’

That was when Obi-Wan noticed the senator’s proximity to you. He’d worked with enough sleazy politicians to know when they wanted something - and you were too distracted by him to realise. It wasn’t just any senator, either. It was the one Obi-Wan was meant to be guarding. The irony was not lost on him.

‘I came alone’ You scowled at his, noticing that it was now coming down to rest on your thigh. ‘But that’s not to say I’m not with someone.’

‘He’s a very lucky man.’ The senator bit his lip. ‘But may I enquire why he let you come alone?’

‘Because he was working.’ You whacked his hand away. ‘If you’ll excuse me-’

You went to stand up, but the senator reached for your wrist, forcing you back down into the chair. ‘You know, I’m very influential-’

‘- I don’t care.’ You retorted. ‘Get off of me.’

You could handle yourself. Obi-Wan knew that - he’d seen it. You were a bad-ass (his bad-ass) but he couldn’t stand to watch the politician grab at you like that. You were a person, not a toy.

‘Senator Crow!’ The Jedi’s voice pierced through the air, and you couldn’t help but feel relieved at the sight of him coming over. ‘It’s getting a bit late and we need to get you back to your room. My Padawan will be escorting you back to your quarters now.’

‘But I’m not done-’

‘- it’s for your safety-’

‘- buy I don’t want to-’

‘- I insist.’ Obi-Wan’s tone was final, a painfully forced smile on his face.

Letting out a huff, the senator stood up. As he did, he planted a kiss on your hand - out of politeness, you tried to hide the fact that you almost gagged. He gave you one last, longing look before standing up and following Anakin out the door.

You let out an exasperated sigh, collapsing back into your seat. The main thing was that he was gone; the bad part was that you couldn’t grab Obi-Wan and kiss him. You’d get to that part eventually, but it still felt like it was aeons away.

‘Thank you,’ you ran a hand through your hair. ‘I was too distracted.’

‘By me?’ The Jedi took a seat next to you. ‘I could see that. Senator Crow has a tendency to be...frisky.’

‘Be a sleezy, drunken bastard.’ You corrected him. ‘When do you finish?’

‘Well, Anakin’s dealt with Crow - so now, I suppose.’

‘I’ll leave first.’ You stood up, dusting off your robes. ‘My room, ten minutes.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

Fifteen minutes later, you were sat in your room. You’d ditched your robes, and your hair was now down and on your shoulders rather than styled. You just wanted to see Obi-Wan - of course, you’d seen him less than twenty minutes ago but that wasn’t the same.

You fell back into the mattress, eyes heavy with sleep. It had been a stressful few days with work and social commitments, between both of which you’d managed to find time to have stolen kisses and a few private moments with Obi-Wan. You wouldn’t have changed anything for the world, but you sometimes thought about how much easier it would be if you could actually be openly together.

After a few moments, you felt the bed dip beside you, and a pair of warm, familiar arms wrap around your waist. Obi-Wan pulled you into his chest - you could barely open your eyes, but you reached up to press a kiss to his jaw.

‘Hey, handsome.’ You sleepily murmured. ‘You took your sweet time.’

‘I had to have a word with a senator.’ He gently ran a hand through your hair.

You jolted up, eyes now wide open. ‘What did you say? Because if you told him-’

‘- no, nothing like that.’ Obi-Wan chuckled slightly, and you relaxed again. ‘I simply pointed out to him that his wife would be most disappointed if she were to discover that he was making moves on other people.’

You’d never seen him jealous before. You hadn’t been in a scenario where you’d had the chance to be. Between living at the temple and running off on missions, there weren’t many situations where you ended up in that kind of environment. You both got plenty of attention - just not in front of the other.

‘You’re hot when you’re jealous.’ You commented.

Picking you up, Obi-Wan pulled back the covers and placed you underneath them. He kicked off his boots and top half of the robes, sliding under the blankets next to you.

‘Am I?’ He asked.

‘Much hotter than a senator...’ you trailed off, rolling over to bury your head in his shoulder. ‘I did try to tell him I was taken, but he wouldn’t listen.’

‘I know.’

You shivered slightly as Obi-Wan traced his hand up your bare arm, lazily drawing nonsensical patterns on your skin. After a long day of not being with each other, it felt perfect; just you and him, and no overbearing politicians.

You reached up, gently pushing a few strands of his hair off his face. ‘I love you, Jedi.’

‘I love you too.’

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan kenobi x y/n #star wars imagines #star wars x reader #star wars fluff #star wars headcanons #star wars preferences

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aajjks · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! This is just what I think of the conqueror from chapter one up to chapter nine. My goal here is to give constructive criticism and bear in mind that all of the critics here are based on my preferences.

So first, I would just like to say that the plot is great. It holds the story well and keeps it going. I adore it to say the least, but one thing that I see (not as a mistake but something that the writer could improve on) is whether this is a slow-burn kind of fic or not (since I couldn’t really see it on your tags, that’s fine tho), the reader needs some kind of tension. The readers need something to be attached to, basically give them time to process things. And I believe that we can have more of that here.

For one, the info dumping. This is a common problem to be honest and it’s not something humiliating or anything like that, it’s just a normal occurrence in which you can improve on. (I do not mean to embarrass you or something just to remind you. I do adore the story). When I say info dumping, it’s when the writer just tells everything that the reader needs to know about a certain character in one fell swoop. The problem that this results to is that when this happens, the reader wouldn’t be able to feel the hardship or whatever emotion the character felt in those moments. Meaning, when one info dumps, (for me) it breaks the understanding of the readers, the immersion of the story and the tension. I believe that this could be improved by cutting up those information and showing them at a later date or combining the things that one needs to tell from what one needs to show. However, I believe that Hollyhomburg’s Before I Leave You would be a better reference to what I’m trying to say.

The second is the tension. Basically, in my understanding, for a story to keep going and to avoid mental block for the writer, there should be a goal and that goal should be clear to the reader. To be honest this is what I’m kinda confused between conqueror Jk and MC because I think I know what JK ultimately wants and that is to HAVE the Mc, while the Mc just wants to get away. The problem here is that we know mc as the main protagonist of the story while JK fits the villain, but at this point, (for me, I don’t want to generalize since I don’t know what other thinks and I don’t want to step on someone’s foot) I don’t really know who I’m betting my money on. Maybe you’re making some plot twist or a sudden turn of events (though that’s just a fancier way of saying a plot twist and I also don’t want to backseat write here), but what we’re only getting is the chasing and I believe that the story needs to escalate or something like that (but again, we need to be kept on the edge of our seats to be able to feel the escalating tension.) I’m sorry if this seems like just nonsensical words but if you want to know more about tension, maybe try Minniepetals’ cry me a river.

PS: I’m not able to reread this review of mine, sorry about that and I apologize too for putting this on anon. Again, your plot is great and all of these are based solely on my preferences, in no way do I think I’m 100% right. Thank you for writing, love to read more from you.

Hi! First of all, thank you so much for your honest thoughts, I really appreciate your respectful constructive criticism!!!

Secondly, I would love to clear your confusions out!!

My fic is not a slow burn one haha, as you can probably tell? (?) I just wanted to know that what kind of a slow burn are we talking about here? Like is it the romance? Or what? I would love to answer you properly!

And hmm? Info dumping? I’m sorry if you felt like I was info dumping? I took my time to tell every single characters story in different chapter(s) rather than just one? personally I feel like I’ve carefully formatted the storylines of my characters? Like don’t you think so? You could lmk where you feel like I’m info dumping so I can fix it, no worries!!!

And what are you confused about? I’m sorry but I don’t quite understand haha I’m kinda confused myself here about the problem? If you don’t mind explaining about y/n and jungkook thingy? Yes you’re right, the chasing will only make the story more interesting! But I don’t get the second paragraph! If appreciate it if you’d elaborate on it so I know my mistake! 💗

And no, I loved this review tbh!!! Thank you! You’re so sweet! 💗💗

#asks #fic: the conqueror

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flowersandskeletons526 · 4 years ago

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“Broken Noses and Bad Ideas” - Glitradora Fanfic Part 7

It has been so much fun getting back into this! Enjoy!

----

Catra bared her teeth at the lanky blonde. Double Trouble grinned and threw their arms around her. “Oh Kitten, I missed you! We left on such bad terms!”

Muttering curse words, Catra shoved them away. “Yeah, and whose fault was that?”

“Well, usually I’m never one to admit fault, but we can go halfsies on this one.”

“Halfsies?! Are you fucking - you know what, forget it. What are you doing here, DT?”

“I wanted to visit. Am I not allowed to see you anymore?”

Catra bit her tongue and tasted blood. “Come outside and we’ll talk.”

She stormed out of the house with Double Trouble in tow. She leaned against the van, arms crossed, tapping her foot in the dirt, while they stood before her with a wicked grin.

“Well?” she snapped. “What do you want?”

“I told you - I wanted to visit. We haven’t seen each other since-”

“Don’t.”

Double Trouble snickered. “Not one for reminders today, are we?”

“I told you to stay away from me!”

“Oh, come on.” They grabbed her chin and leaned close. “Did you really mean that?”

Catra slapped their hand away. “Yes, I did. I meant it when I told you to stay away from me, I meant it when I said I hate you, and I meant it when I said I never want to see you again!”

“Ouch. That stings, Kitten.”

Catra lurched towards them. “Stop calling me that!”

Covering their mouth with their hand, Double Trouble laughed and walked in a slow circle around her, watching her suck her anger back through gritted teeth. “Me-ow! So agitated! I mean no harm, you know.”

“What. Do. You. Want.”

“I heard you and your little band were playing around here and decided I wanted to visit.” Standing behind Catra, they drummed their fingers along her shoulders. She clenched her teeth and watched them from the corner of her eye. She knew this game. “Well, more than that.”

Of course.

“I have a bit of a proposition. I take it you’re still working for everyone’s favorite edgelord?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Yes, then. I was hoping you and I could go back to our previous arrangement.”

Catra bristled. “If you think I would ever-”

“Not that arrangement. Our original one. The one where I find the people your boss sends you after and you give me a generous stipend for my efforts. Take some of the stress away so you can focus on your personal ventures.”

“Personal ventures. Like you.”

They grinned and wrapped their arms around her shoulders. “I didn’t say it.”

Catra laughed coldly. “You don’t have a job, do you?”

With a gasp of indignance, Double Trouble jumped back. “I am in between roles, thank you very much! There’s not much in the way of the Etherian theater scene.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A few months now. I found a lovely hotel I’ve been staying at between auditions.”

“You can afford a hotel?”

“They don’t check the cars in the parking lot.”

“There it is.”

“Which is why you should bring me back onto your team. What do you say?” They dragged their long, sharp nails down Catra’s arm. “Just a few trips down memory lane?”

Catra hesitated. The worst distraction in her life behind Adora was back, right when she needed her focus the most. She had to deal with Hordak, she had to keep up with her work, she had the band to manage. And now with this old case coming back to haunt her, her and Glimmer…

Glimmer. She had to keep all of this away from Glimmer. She only had to keep this up long enough for the heat to blow over, for the cops to move on to another cold case, for Hordak to send her along to another city and away from the mess she fell into. Away from Glimmer. Maybe she could convince Sparkles to come with her.

No. No, she couldn’t even entertain that thought. There was no way that could even happen, not with Adora hanging around.

Fuck, of course she had to be here! Of course she had to end up being Sparkles’ best friend, too. Why did this shit always happen to Catra?

She bit her tongue. Dealing with that case was her main objective at this point. It couldn’t hurt to have someone dealing with the other aspects of her work, could it?

“Fine,” she finally said. “You find my targets for me, like you used to, and that’s all.”

“Oh, wonderful! I knew you’d come around, darling!”

“And you’re sleeping in the driveway in your car.”

Double Trouble forced a smile. “Always a catch with you. I’ll go get my things and be back tonight.”

They started for their car. Just as they grabbed the door handle, Catra called to them.

“And just so we’re clear, Trouble, this is business.” She narrowed her eyes as they turned back to her. “What happened between us? Never again. Ever.”

They winked. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Kitten.”

“And don’t call me that!”

Double Trouble took off with a roar of the engine and a cloud of dust. Catra coughed and wiped the dirt out of her eyes. She watched their car until it disappeared down the road. Biting her tongue hard, she spun on her heel and marched back inside.

She swung the door open, and Scorpia stumbled back from her place pressed against it. The taller woman laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh, hey Catra! I wasn’t listening.”

“They’re going to be staying in the driveway for a while. Just while they’re in between roles or whatever.”

“O-Okay. Um, why are we letting - oh, alright.”

Scorpia stepped aside as Catra swept past her. “Don’t worry about it,” she dismissed.

“Noted.” Scorpia hovered near Catra’s shoulder as she sat at the table. “Didn’t, um… Maybe this is a sensitive subject but, uh, didn’t you two have a, well, a thing?”

“Scorpia,” Catra snapped, “what part of ‘don’t worry about it’ wasn’t clear to you?”

“Yep. You got it. Hear you loud and clear.” She paused. “But just so we’re on the same page-”

“Scorpia.”

“Okay, shutting up now.”

“Thank you.”

Catra’s phone rang. She bristled at the name on the screen.

“Catra.”

“Out!”

Scorpia bolted for her and Lonnie’s room without further comment.

Catra answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Catra,” Hordak growled. “I have another job for you.”

“Already? How extensive is your business in Etheria?”

“That is none of your concern. Your job is to go after who I send you after. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“I will send you the details. Take care of it.”

“You had to call me for this?”

“Watch your tongue,” he barked. “We have more business to discuss. The case we discussed - what more have you found out?”

Did she give him Glimmer’s name? She had to. He would kill her if she didn’t and he found out!

If he found out.

“Nothing. I haven’t heard anything about it.”

“Excellent. I expect regular updates.”

“Of course.”

The line went dead. A text message with addresses and names popped up on screen the next moment. Catra dropped the phone onto the table and took a deep breath. Pushing her fatal lie from her mind, she grabbed the car keys and left, hunting down another poor bastard who crossed the wrong man.

How long until her name was on that list?

----

Glimmer called just as Catra stumbled back to the van, covered in blood that was not her own. She sighed and let it ring as she fished a stained rag out of the glove box. She wiped away as much of the blood as she could, taking special care to get it off her face before tossing the cloth somewhere in the back seat.

The ride home was quick. She was greeted with loud squabbling coming from the kitchen, something to do with Kyle as usual. Only Scorpia greeted her, and she waved her off, retreating to her room. She plopped down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

She picked up the phone and dialed Glimmer’s number. She needed to have some fun tonight.

The punk princess answered after two quick rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sparkles.”

“Catra! I was starting to think you weren’t going to call me.”

“Ah, work stuff. Got pulled away for a little bit. What, did you really miss me that much?”

“You wish.”

Catra laughed. “Damn, alright then. So does that mean you wouldn’t be interested in joining me at the club tonight? I’m in the mood for dancing.”

“Don’t you have a performance?”

“Not tonight. So Princess, are you in or out?”

“I’m in. What time?”

“Meet me outside the Seaworthy Tavern at nine tonight.”

“The Seaworthy? Isn’t that place a little seedy?”

“Oh, the magic princess is bougie now. I found you laying in a pool of blood the second time we met and you’re worried about a place being a little seedy?”

“Okay, I get the point. I’ll be there.”

“Good. See you then, Princess.”

Catra tossed her phone aside. She smelled at her shirt and recoiled. Fuck, she needed a shower. Running her hands through her shirt, she headed for the bathroom.

Double Trouble was standing outside her bedroom door when she opened it. “What’s this I hear about clubbing tonight?”

“Ah! Fuck! How long were you standing there!”

“That’s besides the point. I’ve been waiting to have some fun in this town. Can I come? Oh, pretty please?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, I don’t care. Just leave me alone.” She shoved them aside and continued. Their eyes bored into her back as she left.

----

Glimmer waited for Catra outside the club. Scorpia and the rest of the band tagged along and parted from her with a wave. Double Trouble headed straight inside with them, not noticing Catra slip away to join the pink and purple leather clad girl standing on the edge of the building. Catra wore tight black leather pants and a red corset with a long leather jacket over it. Her wild hair was pushed back from her face. She stood in front of Glimmer, who was focused on her phone, without speaking. She looked up after a moment and immediately went red in the face, violet eyes wide.

Catra snickered. “How do I look?”

A string of nonsensical noises left Glimmer’s mouth before any real words formed. “You look, um, well, you - wow.”

“That good?”

“Yeah.”

“Right back at you, Sparkles.”

Glimmer blushed again and tucked her hair behind her ear. She nodded towards the door. “Want to head in?”

“Sure.” Catra offered an arm that Glimmer accepted, holding onto her as they strolled inside.

The club was lit with blue and green lights that rippled like water on the walls. The dance floor was packed with people and more crowded around the bar, tossing back shots and chugging cheap beers. Cigarette smoke hung in the air. Glimmer squeezed Catra’s arm and headed for the bar.

“What are you drinking?” she asked.

“Vodka cranberry,” Catra said with a nod to the bartender, a tall, built woman with a bandana and a messy white undercut. A fish hook tattoo was inked on her neck.

“Whiskey on the rocks for me,” Glimmer added.

The bartender nodded and made their drinks. She passed Catra hers and then slid the other to Glimmer with a coy smirk. “Yours is on me,” she purred.

Catra growled, nearly cracking her glass in her grip. She swooped in before Glimmer could respond, wrapping an arm around her neck and flashing her fangs with a sneer. She leaned into Glimmer.

“Thanks for the offer, but you can just put it on my tab,” she drawled.

The bartender scowled at her. She stuck out her tongue and steered Glimmer away. Glimmer laughed as they found an empty spot along the wall. She leaned her shoulder against the wall and sipped her drink.

“That was a lot,” she remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Catra grunted. “Didn’t like her face.”

“Are you usually possessive like that?”

“Why? Turn off?”

Glimmer shrugged. “We’ll find out.”

“Is that a proposition, Princess?”

“Dance with me first and you’ll see.”

Catra grinned and abandoned her drink. She let Glimmer pull her onto the floor, their hands landing on each other as they moved to the music. Catra watched Glimmer, completely enraptured by the way she glowed and sparkled in the dim light, staring at her eyes as they lit up. The bass from the speakers boomed in her chest and amplified her own pulse pounding in her head. She sucked in a sharp breath as Glimmer wrapped her arms around her neck, their bodies pressed together.

Glimmer sighed, her breath hot on Catra’s ear, and pressed a soft kiss to her neck. Catra tried to hide her shiver.

“Thank you for showing up in my life,” she murmured, her voice cutting through the music. “You’re the only thing keeping my head on straight lately.”

“That’s a bad thing to rely on me for.”

“I don’t care.” Glimmer tangled her fingers in Catra’s hair and tilted her head back to look at her. “There’s something about you that I can’t name.”

“My charm? My wit? My dashing good looks?”

“Not that.”

“Ouch, Sparkles.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s something else. Your edge, maybe, or the fact that you can go whatever you want. I wish I had freedom like that.”

“Mm. I’ve got more responsibilities than you’d think.”

“What responsibilities do you have tonight?”

“Nothing but what you tell me.”

Glimmer giggled, her lips brushing Catra’s. “I like the sound of that.”

Catra pressed her lips together. They spent a brief eternity on the dance floor, squeezed together in the crowd, their hands and lips on each other’s skin. Even with so little liquor in her system, Catra was drunk off the feeling of Glimmer against her. At one point, they pulled apart and pressed their foreheads together, simply swaying as a slower song played.

“I wish we had more chances to see each other,” Glimmer said. “Besides going to your shows.”

“You know Adora would kill me if this got back to her,” Catra pointed out.

“I know.”

“Is the thrill of sneaking around losing its edge?”

“Life is more entertaining with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Sparkles.” She kissed Glimmer’s cheek. “I’m going to go get us another drink. Same thing?”

“Make it a double this time.”

“Got it.”

Glimmer stepped off the floor and went to stand with Scorpia and Lonnie by the wall while Catra went to the bar. She exchanged a quick glare with the bartender. As she watched the woman make their drinks, she sensed someone standing behind her.

Double Trouble leaned on her with their arm draped over her shoulder. “Now tell me, Kitten,” they said, “who on earth is that tooth-achingly cute ball of glitter you’ve been dancing with all night?”

“A girl I know,” Catra said dismissively.

“Oh darling, that is not how you act with ‘a girl you know.’ That’s why you were so angry about me showing up! You didn’t want me butting in on your little romance!”

“I didn’t want you showing up because I hate you.”

“You and half the theater business. So, give me the details! What’s her name, how did you meet, is she good in bed?”

“Shut the fuck up. You said you would leave me alone tonight.”

“I lied. Buuuuuuut maybe I will if you give me a little information.”

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?”

“Information runs the world, darling. I thought you would have learned that by now.”

Catra snarled and turned away. “Her name is Glimmer. That’s all you’re getting.”

“For now.”

“Period.”

Catra grabbed the drinks and stormed off to find Glimmer. The moment she found her, she pulled her into a searing kiss and pushed the drink into her hand.

“Finish that quick and let’s get out of here,” she growled.

Glimmer grinned. “Let’s skip it and go straight back to my place.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Catra couldn’t get back to Glimmer’s apartment fast enough. Glimmer pulled her into a harsh, bruising kiss the moment the door closed. Catra barely locked it before Glimmer pulled them towards the bedroom. Their clothes ended up discarded on the floor.

Catra stopped them just as they fell onto the bed. “Are you sure you want to do this? I know last time you said-”

“I’m fine. I want this.”

“Okay.”

Glimmer grinned and pulled the covers over them.

----

They laid awake in the middle of the night, curled up with each other in the low candlelight. Glimmer’s head rested on Catra’s chest. Her hair was messy and swept back from her face. Catra carded her fingers through it as Glimmer traced the various scars covering her body.

“What’s this one from?” she asked.

“Adora and I went rock climbing when we were little and she fell so I went jumping after her.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Let’s talk about a different one.”

“Okay.” Glimmer reached up and traced a long scar stretching from the back of Catra’s neck down her shoulder. “What about this one?”

“I got into a fight and the guy pulled a knife on me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m completely serious. I ended up winning, too.”

Glimmer propped herself up and leaned over Catra. “How do you get into so much trouble being in a cover band?”

“Hey, we have original songs, too.” Catra’s mouth continued before she could stop it. “And I have more business than the band.”

“Like what?”

Fuck.

“Just… dealing with people. Fights. Issues people have with us and stuff like that. The music industry is surprisingly cutthroat, you know.”

“Hm. Weird.”

“Mm.” Catra yawned and stretched.

“Tired?”

“A little.”

Glimmer snuggled up to her and closed her eyes. “You can stay the night, you know.”

Catra smiled and laid back. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

She woke up with Glimmer still cuddled under her arm. Late morning light streamed in through the curtains, casting a halo around the sleeping girl. Rubbing her eyes, Catra stretched her arms above her head. Glimmer stirred as Catra untangled herself. Catra smiled.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.” Glimmer rolled over and draped herself over Catra’s stomach. “How did you sleep?”

“Good enough. You?”

“Good. What are your plans for today?”

“I’ve got to get back to the house eventually for rehearsal. Scorpia starts getting anxious if I’m gone too long.” Catra brushed Glimmer’s hair out of her eyes. “What about you?”

“I have stuff to get done around the store. It’s the one day I’m closed so I have to get paperwork and cleaning and stocking done.”

“Wow, sounds boring.”

“Is it,” Glimmer whined.

Catra chuckled and brushed the side of Glimmer’s neck, tracing the purple marks on her throat. “You should probably cover these before you go anywhere.”

“Ugh, who cares? I would rather stay in bed all day.”

“You know, you could always-”

“Glimmer!”

Catra jumped at the sound of Adora’s voice. Glimmer flinched. “Son of a bitch, Adora, what are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Does she usually just show up unannounced?” Catra growled.

“Yeah, she does. Coming, Adora!”

Glimmer hurriedly changed into new clothes, picking a shirt that covered her neck. While she hid their clothes strewn around the apartment, Catra had enough time to pull on pants and crawl beneath the bed.

Glimmer crouched and frowned at her. “What the hell are you doing?” she whispered.

“What part of ‘Adora will kill me’ do you not understand?!”

Glimmer rolled her eyes. Catra made sure she was hidden as Glimmer answered the door, but she maintained a clear line of sight into the living room. She caught a glimpse of Adora’s stupid peppy face over Glimmer’s shoulder.

“Hey, I haven’t heard from you, I wanted to check on you,” the blonde said.

“I’m fine, I’ve just been working,” Glimmer dismissed.

“Are you cold? Why are you wearing a turtleneck?”

Catra bit back a laugh.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I just woke up feeling cold.”

“Are you sick? Here, let me feel your forehead.”

“Adora, Adora, stop. Get off, I’m fine!”

“Okay! Look, we were - wait, is that liquor? Were you drinking again?”

“Adora, you are this close to getting kicked out if you don’t leave me alone.”

Catra raised an eyebrow. Interesting…

Adora raised her hands. “Alright, I’ll stop. Anyway, Bow and I both have nothing to do today so we were gonna go check out the ice cream shop we used to go to and maybe walk around town. Do you want to come?”

“Adora, I’ve got so much paperwork to do and-”

“Please, Glimmer? I can help you finish when we get back and it’ll get done in five minutes!”

“Ugh, fine. Wait for me downstairs, okay?”

“Okay!”

Adora disappeared downstairs. Catra crawled out from under the bed as Glimmer stepped back into the bedroom. Catra raised an eyebrow. Glimmer cringed and jerked her thumb towards the door.

“I have to go deal with that,” she said.

“Yeah. Have fun with that.”

“Look, I had a lot of fun last night. I’ll call you, okay? You can stay as long as you want and eat something before you leave if you want.”

“Thanks, Sparkles. I’ll be out of here once Adora is.”

“I didn’t know she was going to show up.”

“I know.” Catra grabbed Glimmer’s collar and pulled her into a harsh kiss. Glimmer smiled against her lips. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

Catra collected the rest of her clothes once Glimmer was gone. Slipping on her shirt, she looked around the empty apartment.

She grinned. Perfect. Now she could find some information.

#glitra #glitradora #glimmadora #glimmer #catra #adora #scorpia #double trouble #bow #hordak #She Ra #she ra fanfic #she ra princesses of power spoilers

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booknerdproblems · 4 years ago

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Immortals Chapter 11

Hello lovely people! Welcome to the next chapter of Immortals! Okay so, I love this chapter. Mainly because it’s just a whole bunch of Rowaelin trash.

Also: to tagged people- I don’t think the tags on the last chapter were 100% effective, so you may just want to check that you’ve seen the previous chapter before reading this one.

TW: None

Here is the link to my main masterlist, where you can find the the links to all chapters.

“I can survive well enough on my own, if given proper reading material.”

-Celaena Sardothien, Throne of Glass

Aelin and Rowan had to leave Mistward in four days. In two days, it was Beltane. Rowan usually just drunk an abnormal amount of wine and rooted out pickpockets on the revelling streets of Doranelle. At Mistward, he was to join the celebrations. Fae and part Fae alike came from far and wide to Mistward to celebrate.

He could tell Aelin was looking forward to it, it was Fire Night after all. After their talk the other night, they’d been sparring and training every afternoon, and Rowan had learnt to enjoy Aelin’s sharp wit and snarky comments. He would even say they could almost be… friends.

They were currently both standing in the kitchens in front of a very nervous looking Emrys and Malakai, slightly on edge.

Emrys was wringing his hands, and Malakai looked slightly awkward taking in the two of them.

Aelin was giving him sidelong glances, as if trying to gauge if he knew what this was about. He gave her a slight shake of his head in answer.

After a moment of more pacing, Emrys spoke.

“Prince, Aelin. It’s Beltane in two days, as you know, and Mistward hosts festivities for all those who want to attend.”

Aelin nodded, but Rowan just waited for the blow to fall.

“Thing is, uh. Malakai?”

Malakai glared at his mate, and they seemed to have a stare off before Emrys sighed and continued,

“At Mistward, all the rooms are usually doubled up to accommodate the amount of people travelling here. But uh-“

Aelin cut in, “just say it.”

“With you two taking up our biggest rooms, we cannot fit everyone in the rooms. So. Uh. I know it’s against all protocol, and normal procedure, especially considering both of your ranks, but it would be- helpful, to say the least, if you two could, possibly, share one room?”

Aelin and Rowan just stood there in silence for a heartbeat.

“Of course, we can provide a separate bedroll for one of you, but unfortunately there are no spare cots.”

There was a moment of dead silence, then Aelin burst into laughter.

-x-

Emrys and Malakai were smiling nervously at Aelin as she doubled over laughing. Rowan closed his eyes for a heartbeat, took a breath, then opened them. He shot Aelin a disapproving look, but couldn’t help it as his lips twitched upward slightly.

“I thought someone had died! Gods I thought it was bad. Oh gods.” Aelin still couldn’t stop and Rowan rolled his eyes.

Looking back at Emrys and Malakai, he said in his best reassuring voice, “of course it’s fine, don’t worry about it. This one,” he nodded at Aelin, still giggling uncontrollably, “has no sense of decorum or protocol anyway.”

Emrys smiled sheepishly at his poor attempt at humour. Aelin, however, whacked him on the arm and frowned, finally halting her laughter.

“I’ll have you know, I’m the consummate portrait of royal grace.”

“Oh absolutely. My sincere apologies to Your Most Graceful Majesty, if I have offended your delicate sensibilities.”

“Asshole,” Aelin muttered, rolling her eyes, but threw him a grin.

-x-

That evening, Rowan had moved all his clothes and weapons into Aelin’s room, and frowned at the bed. It wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t huge. He sighed, knowing the proper thing to do was sleep on the bedroll. Still, he wasn’t keen on sleeping on the floor every night. Walking into the adjacent bathroom, he headed to the sink and splashed some water on his face and neck.

“You know, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

Rowan jumped, whirling around. He’d been so absorbed in his thoughts he’d failed to notice Aelin in the large tub on the other side of the room, soaking in the frothy water. Her hair was soaked, turning it a darker shade, and her long legs were propped up on the opposite side, exposing miles of tanned skin. He tried- tried, wyrd damn him, not to look, and failed miserably. Her sun-kissed skin was slick and shining with water, glistening in the candlelight. She had a small smile on her face, looking perfectly relaxed as she closed her eyes.

“See something you like, buzzard?” He still hadn’t spoken.

Their first night sharing quarters, and he’d already managed to walk in on the Queen ofTerrasen in the bathtub. He stared at her, frozen, before walking over to the tub.

She wanted to play, he’d play.

He sat on the edge of the bath, bracing a hand on the other side so his torso was suspended above the water. Aelin opened her eyes. Rowan relished the hitch in her breath as he leaned in close enough to share breath, studying her face. The water was frothy enough that he couldn’t see anything indecent, and he met her eyes.

“What if I do? See something I like.”

Pink creeped up Aelin’s neck and cheeks, and he internally congratulated himself on getting her flustered for once. He could just imagine where that beautiful blush would spread if leaned in, or with her spread out beneath- Rowan stopped that thought before it could go any further.

When she didn’t reply, he chuckled softly, a lovers laugh, then withdrew, walking out of the bathroom, running a hand through his hair.

He rolled out his bedroll, grabbing a couple of blankets and dropping them onto the thin mat.

Rowan assumed Aelin would take the bed, she outranked him anyway. Gods, this was against all of his diplomatic training. Not that he cared much for protocol anyway. But, shit-

What had he just been thinking? Sure, it was good to turn the tables for once, but what he’d done was entirely inappropriate.

Boundaries.

Limits.

Those were his new favourite words, he told himself. He had three hundred years worth of self-control, he told himself. He could keep his dick in his pants and mind out of the gutter for a couple more days. A couple more days, he told himself.

Just as those thoughts were crossing his mind, Aelin walked out of the bathroom. He froze, eyes wide. She was clad in a dangerously short nightgown, the deep red silk clinging to her curves. The back dipped scandalously low, and was trimmed with black lace. She didn’t look at him, simply closing the window and turning to the bed. Rowan opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“What are you wearing?”

“A nightgown.” Aelin slid under the covers, uncaring, but he just stood there.

“And you don’t have anything else to wear?”

She arched a brow, “would you rather I sleep naked?”

Rowan almost choked, “No. No that’s fine. But uh- where’s the bottom part?”

Aelin looked endlessly amused, “there is no bottom part.”

“Oh.” He sat on his bedroll. So much for not getting flustered.

“What are you doing?” Aelin’s voice cut through the silence that had enveloped them.

“What?”

“Why the hell are you down there?”

“And where would you have me be?”

“Well, not on the damn floor for starters.”

“Do you see another bed?”

“Why do you need another bed?”

Rowan sat up, looking toward Aelin, raising his eyebrows. She just smirked back at him. Rolling his eyes, he settled down on his roll.

She was ridiculous. Her whole being seemed to go against all normality. Nonsense. Utterly and completely ridiculous.

“Seriously Rowan, I’m not gonna bite, just sleep in the damn bed.”

He remained stubbornly on the bedroll.

Aelin sighed, “suit yourself.” The room went black as she snuffed out all the candles using that remarkable control of hers.

He remained staring at the ceiling, ignoring the desire that was roaring through his blood, steadily shredding through his self-control. Gods he hoped she was in her human form, so she couldn’t scent anything out of the ordinary.

Teeth gritted, he spoke into the blackness,

“I’ve never seen- clothing like that.”

A rustle of bedsheets, “you mean to tell me the females in Doranelle don’t own scandalous nightwear? Or anywhere else in the world?”

“My encounters with females don’t usually involve parading around in nightclothes. Is-is all your clothing like that?”

A snort, then, “why are you so curious about my negligees anyway, Prince? Me in a nightgown can’t be the raciest thing you’ve ever seen.”

He remained silent, why was he continuing this conversation? He was an immortal warrior, for Mala’s sake. He’d waged war and ended it more times than he cared to remember.

“Is there a specific colour you’d like me to wear? If I’m going to scandalise you, I should at least do it in something you like.”

He didn’t answer, and after a moment, Aelin seemed to settle into bed more fully. Then,

“Gold. Not yellow. Metallic gold.”

“You're out of luck, I would never own anything so ostentatious.”

He grinned into the dark, before rolling over and pulling up the blankets.

-x-

Two hours later, Rowan woke, shaking. Gods, it was freezing in the mountains. The sparse blankets he’d taken for himself held barely any warmth, and he was cold to his very bones. He rolled onto his back and sighed heavily.

Looking over at the bed, he could see a small figure curled up under thick, heavy blankets, breathing deeply and evenly. Rowan could practically feel the warmth taunting him from across the room.

He let out a quiet groan, running a hand through his hair. He clenched his jaw, attempting to restrain himself one last time before sighing again and standing upright. He gathered his pillow and blankets, shuffling over to the bed.

Looking down, he groaned for about the tenth time that night. Aelin had made the most of the space available, and was curled on her side, one arm stretched across the bed, her hair splayed out similarly. Rowan wondered if she’d wake up if he gingerly lifted her arm over there and-

She sighed, rolling over and moving her arm, but remaining dead asleep, and Rowan sent a silent prayer to the gods for that small mercy.

He flipped back the sheets, sliding under the warm blankets, suppressing a shiver and closing his eyes.

After a moment, a voice spoke into the darkness,

“I knew you’d break.”

“Shut up.” He muttered quickly, eyes remaining resolutely closed. He should have known she’d wake up the instant he pulled back to the covers.

A soft, sleepy laugh that most definitely did not make his stomach flutter, then,

“G’night, buzzard.”

He paused,

“Night, Aelin.”

Tags: @bookworm232020 @sanakapoor @faerie-queen-fireheart @alyx801 @kendallambrosio @brandyovereager

Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

#throne of glass #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin and rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #aelin ashryver galathynius #fanfic #fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #sarah j maas #sjm #immortals

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jeminy3 · 5 years ago

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Turnabout Monkey Paw

An experimental take on the Defense!Miles and Prosecutor!Phoenix Roleswap AU. First time writing for this fandom.

Left on a cliffhanger to end it on a high note, and because I don’t have a solid-enough outline for the continuation. I REALLY don’t want to pour my already-limited energies into yet another long thing I’ll probably never finish and leave everyone disappointed, I’ve made that mistake too many times now.

Inspiration: The Monkey’s Paw by W. W. Jacobs, The Landlady by Roald Dahl, every other Phoenix/Miles Roleswap AU

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7:31 AM, September 5, 2017

Somewhere in east Germany

A red sports car drives along the winding roads of the countryside. Alone. Aimless. Much like its driver.

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, said driver, feels particularly lost this morning. After a restless sleep and meager breakfast, he decided, groggily, to go out for a drive to nowhere in particular. Perhaps it’s just a part of his new journey to rediscover himself, to find the elusive meaning behind his troubled career… or maybe he’s just especially depressed today.

Miles drives on, and on, past empty plains and dark forests, until he comes upon a small town in the distance. The highway takes him straight through its main drag, giving him a leisurely look at its various shops and local businesses.

He slows down to get a better look at them – there’s no risk of inconveniencing any pedestrians, as the town seems devoid of its citizens this morning, and no one else was on the highway. It’s a bit eerie, admittedly, but in his current state of mind it’s a blessing. No one to bother him, or be bothered in turn by his presence.

The shops are of the usual things – hair salons, restaurants, clothes and other goods. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for – quaint little shops like this just make him homesick for similar places back home, in the small towns surrounding Los Angeles. His father would take him to a place like this every weekend to visit their favorite ice cream parlor...

And at that thought, Miles feels his heart breaking all over again. He tries to shake it off, but the wave of grief is more intense than usual, and he finds himself pulling over to park on the side of the street so he can bury his face in his arms and sob pitifully.

After calming himself and drying his eyes, he looks up to find himself in front of a shop he hadn’t noticed before – a small brick building pressed between two others, old and decaying, with no windows he can see. The sign above its door features a large stylized eye painted in shades of purple and white, sitting above German words that Miles can translate as:

Madame Jacobi’s Fortunes and Trinkets. Read your Future. Change Your Fate.

There’s something strange about those words… they keep bouncing around in his brain, like ball bearings.

Read your future. Change your fate.

The huge, purple eye seems to peer down at him. Judging, deity-like, piercing through his very soul.

Read your future...

Change your fate...

Change… fate?

His head swims for a moment, and he feels his body move of its own accord. Before he’s fully aware of it, Miles finds himself climbing out of his car and approaching the eye, the shop front, the door, and now his hand is on the doorknob.

He pauses for a moment as his senses return to him. (Wait- What am I doing? What am I thinking? I’ve never believed any of this nonsense. Fortunes, horoscopes, magical baubles – it’s all a scam, designed to prey on the weak and impoverished with platitudes vague enough to apply to just about anyone. I can’t- I shouldn’t...)

And yet, as he glances back up at the shop’s sign, he feels... something. Something about this place – or something about his current state of mind – compels him to twist the knob, open the door, and step inside.

What first hits him is the powerful smell of incense inside the shop. He can’t identify it exactly – it’s something like lavender, but much stronger. Next is the dark, mysterious atmosphere created by low candle lights and small neon signs. Its a small, humble shop – probably half the size of the other shops here, made to feel even smaller with the claustrophobic amount of tables, bookshelves and beaded curtains. The goods are what he expected – trinkets, crystals, sculptures, jewelry. Many of them have designs sporting large, stylized purple eyes like the shop’s sign.

Near the back of the shop is a small round table covered in a patchwork blanket, a crystal ball in its center. An elderly figured sits hunched over the other end, draped in dark purple robes.

Miles is struck with a pang of anxiety for standing around and looking foolish while ignoring what must be the shop’s owner, perhaps the “Madame Jacobi” mentioned in the shop’s sign. He carefully approaches the person at the table.

“Ahem- hello?” he greets, in the appropriate language.

The figure straightens, and upon lifting their head to look at him, she appears to be a homely old woman with wispy white hair, and smiles warmly at him. “Hello, sir. What is it that’s troubling you?”

“Oh, I don’t have any troubles,” Miles replies, not entirely truthful, but it’s no important matter, and none of her business. “I’m just... Looking around.”

(Why am I here? I wasn't even thinking… I must be more out of it than I thought. But I can’t just turn around and leave now, that would be terribly rude.)

“I see,” says the woman. “Do you perhaps need your fortune read?”

Miles shakes his head. “No no, I just... er...” (Think, think!)

Glancing desperately around the shop’s interior, he notes the price tags on the various items for sale here.

“Ah- a gift. Yes. I’m looking for a gift for someone.” (That will have to suffice...)

The woman raises a quizzical eyebrow. “A gift? And what sort of person wants a gift from my little shop?”

“Ah- A friend of mine,” Miles says, doing his best to hide his internal flustering.

(What am I saying?! I hardly have any friends to speak of, much less those I would buy strange gifts for out of nowhere! Well… ‘that man’ or his assistant would probably appreciate something as strange as the items here, knowing them, but- ugh, nevermind!)

The woman chuckles softly, and rises from her seat at the table. “In that case,” she says as she carefully makes her way around the shop, “I think I have just the thing for someone like you.”

She reaches a large table dominating the one side of the shop and pulls aside part of the blankets covering it, revealing it to be a repurposed dresser, drawers and all. She opens one of these hidden drawers and retrieves a dark, box- like object from its interior.

She sets the object upon the table after returning to her seat and in the light, it’s now clear that it’s a somewhat large wooden box, with a lid and brass latch keeping it closed. It looks old – kept clean after years of careful maintenance, but definitely aged, from signs of wear and tear at its edges and around the latch.

What’s most striking, however, is what’s carved into the top of the box – chiseled into the dark wood is the image of what appears to be a human hand at first glance, but a closer look shows that it’s grossly misshapen, missing the tips of its pinky and thumb and detailed with what looks like… hair?

And even stranger, carved in the center of the palm and the box’s lid is another one of those strange purple eye symbols.

The woman is speaking again. “I will share this with you, free of charge.” And then, when Miles meets her eyes, her expression suddenly becomes gravely serious. “But only if you agree never to speak of this beyond these doors.”

Miles feels a sudden chill crawling down his back. He swallows lightly. “Uh- Oh- of course.”

The woman’s amused smile returns, eerily quickly and easily. “Good. Now...”

She unlatches and opens the box, pulling out a strange object from it’s interior.

Miles almost startles at it, at first – it appears to be a severed human hand. But in the next moment he sees that what he mistook for flesh is a light-colored wood texture – it’s a puppet’s hand. Probably separated from an old marionette of some kind, the joints of its fingers are fully articulated, and it ends in a disconnected ball wrist joint. Strangely, the tips of its pinky and thumb have been removed.

“This is merely a replica,” the old woman is saying now, “But even if it’s only a fraction, this carries the power of a very old, very dangerous treasure. From as far away as India, I’ve heard, and as far back as the days of English colonialism.”

Miles isn’t entirely listening to her, transfixed by the strange little wooden hand, but he catches enough to ask a question. “What… does it do?”

“It grants wishes,” she says, smiling again. “Tell it what you want, and it shall happen. Anything your heart desires.”

Miles swallows at nothing in his throat, not quite believing any of this nonsense but nonetheless feeling very… anxious from all the strangeness of it. “Anything?”

“Anything at all,” the woman says. “Like, say- a little more money on your next pay day. Or an old car to be fixed. Or for someone you like to notice you more. Things like that.”

Miles squints. “Is that all?” (Those sound like terrible things to wish for…)

“Of course not,” the woman says, blanching. “I’m just giving you the safest suggestions for this. You know, things that won’t have too many consequences.”

“…Consequences?”

“Yes, sir.” The woman nods, now with that grave expression again. “This is a power that can change everything – The very fabric of the universe. You cannot toy with such powers lightly. So, the greater the wish, the greater the consequences.”

Miles stares at the hand, and suddenly the words on the store sign echo in his mind again.

Change your fate…

...I see,” Miles says distantly. Again he is gripped by that strange compulsion from before, and now he finds himself reaching for the wooden hand.

The woman looks at him curiously. “Do you know what you want?”

Miles blinks, coming back to his senses, and his throat feels dry suddenly. (...Do I?)

He racks his brain for a moment. He has no desire for anything, material or otherwise. He never has. He has no want for money or expensive luxuries; his car is fine; romance is a laughable idea.

His only sort-of desire right now is his journey to find himself – which so far, isn’t going well. Honestly, he has half-a-mind to give up on this useless crusade and return home, but that would mean turning back on what he told Detective Gumshoe and facing everyone he left behind, like Phoenix…

...No, he can’t face him again. Not now.

There is only one thing Miles truly wants. He’s wanted it ever since he laid eyes upon this shop’s sign. He’s wanted it for as long as he can remember, for years upon years upon years...

“...My father,” he says hoarsely, his throat feeling thick.

The woman’s eyes widen. “Hm?”

He closes his eyes, swallows, pushing back old tears. “...I- I want my father back. He was… murdered, fifteen years ago. I loved him dearly. My life has… never been the same.”

His chest fills to bursting from the weight of his grief returning tenfold, and he takes a few breaths to steady himself. When he dares to open his eyes again, the old woman is staring sadly at him.

“I am sorry to hear that, dear one,” she says softly. “But a wish like that...” she shakes her head, placing the puppet hand back into its box, “That will have grave, grave consequences for you.”

Miles feels a flash of anger as the hand disappears from sight, and he feels an odd compulsion to jerk forward and take it forcefully. He only flinches slightly, as the woman suddenly fixes him with a glare that freezes his blood.

“What you are asking for, sir, would change your entire life, if it was that long ago. So many things can happen in that span of time. The people you’ve met, the places you’ve been, the things you know now – all of that would be lost, forever. I know you are in great pain, but some things in life happen for a reason.”

Miles bristles, both at the refusal and the frankly idiotic platitude, and he decides he no longer cares to keep up his politeness. “I don't care,” he says bitterly. “I would gladly give it all up to see my father again.”

“Would you, really?” The woman squints at him.

Miles is caught off-guard, a little. “What?”

“Are you so unhappy with your life you would simply throw it all away on a whim? Even its good parts? Surely you have found some new kind of happiness in these fifteen years?”

Miles stiffens. “I...”

He feels unsure, now. (Happiness… Have I really found any in all this time?)

Despite his lucrative early career (save for his very first trial) and a long string of victories, deep down, it all felt hollow with the shadow of Von Karma’s perfectionism always looming over him, and the guilt of possibly sending innocent men to their deaths bubbling up from his own soul.

In his personal life, he had almost nothing – his studies and career had consumed him so much for so long that he barely had a personal life to speak of. Even including his fondness for the Steel Samurai franchise. The show, the merchandise, the fan forums – it was an empty source of joy, and he always knew it. Merely stolen moments of respite between cases, temporary escapes into childish fantasy, pointless attempts to reclaim the boyhood that was stolen from him so early on.

In terms of friends... the closest he’s ever had was Detective Gumshoe. He still is his most trusted coworker and confidante, evident in how Gumshoe was the only person who knew where he was right now, but Miles’ trust only went so far. Despite his over-abundance of enthusiasm and sincerity, it could not be denied that Gumshoe was one of the least competent officers in the force and was more often a source of stress rather than comfort. He never could open up to the man on a more personal level.

Larry Butz was a childhood friend, but one he never kept contact with after moving away, and still doesn’t, even after recent events.

And Phoenix Wright…

...Was better off without him.

Despite saving his life two times over, easing his fears and nightmares, defending him against the guilt of fifteen years and miraculously absolving him of it.

Despite the relief in his eyes when Miles found himself rebelling against his own principles, objecting against the woman who would frame the talented actor of his favorite show for her crimes.

Despite the sharp, determined face of the boy he knew, now fifteen years older, now facing him in court for the first time, never losing that determination even as Miles tried his damnedest to put him away for the murder of his mentor.

And despite their childhood together… those brief but precious memories...

No. Miles pushes it all away, pushes away tears again. He can’t go back to him. He’s too far gone. He always was.

He’s closed his eyes again, trembling with the effort of keeping himself together. When he trusts himself to look upon the world without bursting into tears, the old woman appears to be studying him. She shifts to lift a hand and crook a finger at him. “Come here. I have an idea.”

“...Huh?”

She gestures again. “Come here, lean down.”

Miles wonders at this, but decides to do as she says, leaning towards her over the table. He now has a much closer view of the strange box and its contents

She does… something with the puppet hand in its box, some kind of gesture with her hands. Then she lifts a hand, and suddenly presses her index and middle finger against his forehead – hard.

Miles is shocked – either from the sudden physical contact, or the feeling of static against his skin for a moment, maybe both – and he draws back with a strained yelp.

“Ngh-! Wh- what on earth was that?!”

The woman only smiles sweetly. “Just a taste,” she says. “Or a glimpse, you could say.”

Miles flushes, feeling he’s been taken advantage of in a rare state of vulnerability. “You- You don’t make any sense!” he stammers.

The woman barks out a laugh. “Hah! I could say the same for you, sir.”

“Ngh- Oh, forget it! This was a complete waste of time! I’m leaving.”

Feeling every bit like he’s been made a fool by this entire situation since the beginning, Miles turns on his heel and heads for the front door.

The woman calls after him in a sing-song voice, surely mocking him further. “Have a good day, sir! And do be careful.”

“Good day, madam,” Miles says stiffly over his shoulder, the very last scrap of politeness he can offer.

What a waste of a day. He shouldn’t have bothered even getting out of bed. So when he returns to his car and the road, he decides on just that – heading back to Berlin, up to his hotel room, and back into bed.

He does his best to forget that foolish shop and its owner – but he does briefly wonder why she said ‘be careful’ when the season isn’t nearly cold enough to start freezing the highways here.

–

11:36 AM, September 5, 2017

The Rich-Carlton Hotel, Berlin, Germany

The drive back to his hotel was uneventful, and so was the checking-in and climb up the stairs to his floor. His hotel room is just as he left it that morning – embarrassingly untidy because of his lack of energy, but he still can’t find the motivation to clean it. Honestly, he feels even more drained than before, and it takes significant effort just to redress himself back into his pajamas and climb back into bed. His limbs feel like lead, and his head feels fuzzy – once he settles in, he drifts away within minutes.

Miles dreams – but it’s strange. Nothing feels solid, or real – even more so than his usual dreams. As if his thoughts are so abstract he cannot even grasp them. All he is clearly aware of is being… somewhere, floating aimlessly, and before him is something large and purple.

Purple? Wait… it comes into focus as he concentrates on the familiarity…

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash, like thunder, that sends him tense and rigid in panic, and the thing comes into clear focus. It is a huge, purple eye, gazing down upon him like some kind of omniscient being.

He’s terrified, but only for a moment. Within the next, it seems to drift close with unseen eyelids, and at the same time, his own vision darkens and fades.

He thinks he hears a voice...

Fate is as cruel as often as it is kind... But to twist that fate can be even crueler... because everything has a price to pay... Here, you shall glimpse such a fate for yourself…

–

Morning? September 6?

Hotel Room?

When Miles rouses, the first thing he feels is his heart pounding in his chest, the dampness of sweat on his brow, and a sick feeling of dread in his gut. But as he tries to remember why or where it all came from, it slips from his mind’s grasp like sand through his fingers.

(I knew it was something important… something… purple? Bah...)

The thought slips further and further into obscurity the more he focuses on it, and the more his waking mind comes into full consciousness. Eventually he blinks his eyes open, sees the slivers of sunrise through the hotel window, and decides to forget about it.

(Just a nightmare again… no matter.)

Miles yawns, stretching his body beneath the covers until he feels the satisfying cracks in his joints, then sits up to rouse himself further. He rubs his eyes and stares at the pale red curtains of his window, watches dust particles dance through the thin rays of morning light filtering through them.

Then, he notices something. (...My hotel room didn’t have curtains.)

He squints at his surroundings, and as his senses become fully awake, he’s struck with a chilling realization. (Wh- where am I?)

Whatever room he’s awoken in, it’s definitely not his luxury hotel room in Berlin. It feels much smaller, and like a much more permanent living space with the larger amount of furniture and items here. Right beside him is a proper nightstand, no hotel phones in sight. There’s a work desk in the far corner, with a well-stocked bookshelf and a decently-sized vanity dresser on either side of it. Various knick-knacks and decorations fill up the rest of the space on the shelves and counter-tops, and a few posters hang on the walls.

Actually, it all seems strangely familiar. (This… looks a lot like my old room back home, actually. There’s my old Signal Samurai poster… and I’m certain that’s my Steel Samurai statue on the desk. Why are they here?)

Miles climbs out of bed, padding across the carpeted floors to study everything more closely.

(The dresser and nightstand look a lot like what I had in middle school... The desk is new, but something I probably would have liked back then.)

He reaches the bookshelf and inspects its contents. They range from various textbooks on law and history to… The Steel Samurai Official Manga? His eyes widen as he studies the books’ spines. (This… this is the complete first series. Is this… mine?)

He reaches out to take a book, then stops, noticing the sleeve of his sleepwear. He’s not wearing his plain silk pajamas anymore – it’s similar, but definitely not the same. The material is more soft and plush, and it’s printed with a pastel-colored pattern of various feudal japanese weaponry, from kunai to shuriken. In short, it’s something he’d enjoy, but only with the most utmost privacy, and it would take great pains to convince himself to purchase it for himself, much less wear it within sight of anyone.

These details begin to form a shattering idea in Miles’ brain, slowly clicking into place, and he feels his heart pounding again. Quickly, he walks to the bedroom door and slowly opens it to peek out.

(The- the hallway looks familiar too… The second bedroom is where I always remembered it. And the living room beyond it… If there’s small kitchen next to that…)

Miles swallows, his fears giving way to a potential hope he can’t bear to hold in his heart. He makes his way down the hall, tracing his fingertips against the wall as if afraid it would float away from him. He lets both his hand and roving eyes stay away from the second bedroom’s doorframe, and the various framed photographs hung here – he thinks he caught a glimpse of one of his old baby pictures, and he simply can’t handle that right now.

He reaches the end of the hallway, spilling out in the living room, and sure enough, there’s a humble little kitchen and dining table filling up the other half of the space.

Miles takes hold of his trembling chin with one hand, covering his mouth. (This- this is just like my old home… It can’t be. It was sold off, after I had to leave…)

Even that desperate thought of denial begins to crumble as he observes these rooms more closely, their familiarity summoning a deluge of childhood memories. The old coat rack by the door, the DVD-filled TV stand, the dining set, the ugly curtains, the old oven that never worked properly…

Dazed and misty-eyed, Miles drifts towards the couch to seat himself before he collapses. Even the musty smell was still here, from these comfortably sunken-in cushions…

(It’s here… it’s older, but still here...)

He closes his eyes and covers his face with both hands, breathing until he regains a decent hold on his emotions again. When he recovers, he notices is a few papers stacked on the coffee table in front of him. The topmost paper looks like a work-related document, with hastily-written notes penciled into its blank spaces.

He reaches out and gingerly picks up the paper from the small pile. The letters are a little blurry, but it looks like a copy of a financial report. When Miles focuses, the text at the very top reads:

Edgeworth & Son Defense Firm

His heart stops, so shocked he doesn’t bother to read the rest of the document, nearly dropping the paper from his fingers. (Can it.. can it be…?)

He doesn’t have to wonder long, as he’s shocked again immediately afterward by the sounds of shuffling, a door opening, and a familiar voice somewhere behind him.

“Son? That you? You awake?”

Miles stands to look, and… it’s him. His father, Gregory Edgeworth, alive and well, standing in the doorway of the second bedroom-turned-office, more real than anything Miles could imagine. And obviously fifteen years older, from the few extra wrinkles in his face and strands of grey peppering his hair, but it’s him. It’s really him.

Which means… the wish came true. His wish. Somehow, someway. Miles could care less whatever forces of the universe caused this to happen, his father is here and alive. And everything else he’s observed is the result of this new reality – Miles never moved away, instead spending fifteen happy years with his now-living father. Following his teachings, helping him run his defense firm, and working to protect the innocent, together.

Miles is trembling now, struggling to speak through the emotion clogging his throat, and eventually he manages a hoarse whisper.

“F- Father…?”

Gregory squints at him over his glasses. “…Yes?”

Miles can’t think of anything else to say, or think in general – so he lets his legs carry him, stumbling, towards his now-living father and into a sudden embrace. He wraps his arms around his father’s torso and presses his face into his shoulder, both overwhelmed and amused at his parent no longer towering over him.

Gregory tenses at the sudden affection, but doesn’t push him away, instead awkwardly patting his back. “Whoa, uh- good morning to you too, Miles.”

Miles can only laugh through his happy tears – of course this would be awkward for him. So calm, so nonplussed. That as far as his father was aware, nothing ever changed, nothing was ever lost. But still, Miles should really get a hold of himself already.

He pulls away and wipes off an embarrassing amount of snot and tears from his face with his pajama sleeve. “S- sorry, I- Yes, good morning, father. I’m just- I’m very happy to see you again.”

Gregory raises an eyebrow at him, but chuckles softly. “You say that like I left, or something. Ah well, hugs are always nice. I’m glad you’re not too grown-up to stop hugging your old man.”

Miles breathes out a laugh. (No amount of aging or societal norms would keep me from appreciating you, father. Ah, if only Wright were here… I hope he is. I must tell him about this the next time I see him...)

“Anyway, since you’re up already,” Gregory was saying now, passing him to head toward the living room, “best start getting ready. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Miles blinks in confusion. “I- Uh. We do?”

Gregory turns to him, concerned. “Yeah? You said you were ready- say, where are your glasses? I thought you put ‘em on first thing in the morning?”

Miles blinks again. “...Glasses?” (Since when have I needed glasses?)

Gregory looks at him strangely. “Yes? You’ve needed glasses since you were sixteen, son. You hit your head or something?”

Miles stares, stunned in confusion again. (Glasses… I suppose it makes sense. Everything has looked a little hazy lately, and my father’s always needed them as well. But- since I was sixteen? That was when… I was under Von Karma’s tutelage. Yes, that explains things…)

Recovering, Miles clears his throat. “Ah- yes, of course. I’d forgotten. That explains all the blurriness I’ve noticed...”

Gregory was cocking his head at him now. “Are you... sure you’re feeling alright? It’s not like you to be this forgetful.”

“I- I’m fine, father. Perfectly.”

Gregory gives an incredulous look. “Well, I hope so. We’ve got a pretty big case on our hands today, especially for you. We’re meeting the client at the detention center as soon as possible, so best get ready now.”

Miles briefly wonders at his father’s behavior and this information he doesn’t appear to be privy to. Then, he remembers – this is a different reality. One in which Miles has been living and working with his father for many years. Gregory knows this, but Miles does not, seemingly having been dropped into this universe overnight to no one else’s knowledge.

(Ah- I understand. Its like the plot of Steel Samurai Episode 26, when a strange curse causes the Steel Samurai and Evil Magistrate to switch bodies for a day. Mostly played for humor, but nonetheless well-executed. The Samurai felt like himself, but to the Evil Magistrate’s minions, he's always been the Evil Magistrate, so he had to play along and pretend to be his own arch nemesis until he could lift the curse… looks like I have to do that too, in a way.)

Miles rubs at his scalp, pretending to soothe an imaginary bump. “Ah- I suppose I did hit my head in the night. Everything’s a little fuzzy… Erm, would you remind me of our client’s name, Father?”

Gregory sighs and rolls his eyes, but not with any true annoyance. “It’s Maya Fey. She’s the sister of the victim, Mia Fey, in case you forgot that too.”

Miles blinks in confusion for a moment. (Have I… gone back in time as well?)

A glance back at the kitchen’s far wall confirms this – there hangs a calendar, currently open on September 2016. (It’s last year again… and if we’re defending Maya Fey, then Mia’s murder occurred just last night!)

“I see,” Miles says. “Is she alright?”

Gregory was busying himself in the kitchen now. “I sure hope so,” he says while retrieving a box of teabags from a cupboard. “Police said they found her with the body and arrested her on the spot. Poor thing’s probably been in questioning all night.”

Miles, with a pang of guilt, remembers how this happened from the prosecution’s side. “Y-yeah, probably...”

Then panic shoots through him as he remembers something else. “Ah- What about Wright? Did the police mention him at all?”

Gregory stops halfway through filling a pot with water to stare at him, brows knit, lips pursed. He blinks a few times, then says, “...What?”

Miles thinks he didn't hear him. “You know- Phoenix Wright? My friend from elementary school? He studied under Mia Fey, wasn’t he th-”

“Yup, definitely hit your head.”

Gregory’s expression grew more and more strange as he spoke, and now Miles finds himself grabbed by the shoulders and briskly turned around as he’s interrupted.

“Wh-?"

“Just uh- go freshen up in the bathroom, son. Take a cold shower or something. I’ll, uh- I’ll get breakfast ready.”

“I- Uh. Okay.”

Miles is gently shoved in the direction of his bedroom, stumbling slightly, and he decides maybe it’s best he do as his father says for now. When he mentioned Wright, something about his father’s expression seemed… grave. Severe. As if he’d spoken of something he was not supposed to mention.

...Strangest of all, it sort of reminds him of the old woman at the fortune shop yesterday.

Miles won’t question it for now. Like the Steel Samurai, he should just play along until he learns more.

–

9:47 AM, September 6, 2016

LAPD Detention Center, Los Angeles

Hours later, Miles was fully-dressed and driving to the Detention Center, using a slightly-different but nonetheless familiar red car, with his father in the passenger seat. He’s also wearing his glasses he apparently always wears in this life – and he has to admit, he never knew the world could look so clear without the need to squint so often.

He and his father spoke lightly about the case to come, but there’s been a strange underlying tension since their conversation this morning, so they usually fell silent. Miles can’t make any sense of it. He wishes he could remember something from himself in this new life, or at least find a way to ask about his past without drawing suspicion, but he can’t focus on that problem right now, needing to concentrate on his driving.

And once they arrived, he needed to focus on the case at hand. For it seemed Miles was now repeating history, but from a different point of view – and to be completely honest, he’s kind of curious. He can’t remember the last time he was welcomed into a detention center when he wasn’t passing off evidence to the police or brought in as a suspect himself. And as a defense attorney, no less. He has to stop himself from glancing or fiddling at his attorney’s badge constantly, proudly pinned to the left lapel of his waistcoat (it seems he doesn’t wear suit jackets in this universe except for very formal occasions).

(And I don’t have any cravats anymore… all I could find were bow-ties. It makes sense, of course, but I sort of miss it…)

Meanwhile his father, still sporting his trustworthy trench coat and hat after all these years, speaks with the jailers to let them see their new client. Or rather-

“-Yes, my son will be defending her. Miles?”

Miles flinches to attention and does his best to introduce himself, as surreal as it is to say aloud, “Miles Edgeworth, defense attorney.” (It’s so… strange. Not bad, just strange.)

Despite his awkwardness, the jailer seems to approve of him, and soon they’re being ushered into the visiting room. Miles enters alongside his father, seating themselves at a window. Minutes later, a very sad, very tired Maya Fey is welcomed into the room on the other side of the separating wall, and she takes a seat across from them beyond the glass window.

Gregory introduces himself first, removing his hat. “Hello, Miss Fey. I’d shake your hand if I could – I’m the one you spoke to on the phone last night. My son here will be heading your case, with my assistance.”

Maya nods to both of them, and bows gratefully. “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Edgeworth.”

“None needed, really,” Greg replies. “How are you feeling?”

Maya stifles a yawn. “Okay, I guess. Just really tired. They were questioning me all night.”

“I see,” Greg says, sharing a concerned look with Miles at his fears confirmed. “At least you sound calmer than before.”

“I think I’m just numb,” Maya says, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve had to tell so many people so many times about my sister, so I guess I’m just kinda… used to it.”

A new feeling takes hold of Miles – the cold, bitter grasp of pure, crushing guilt. He’s never interviewed a defendant before, and certainly not like this, up-close and personal and not across the courtroom in a defendant’s chair. And seeing the face of a person so broken by the death of a loved one, a person he already knows is innocent and being framed by a blackmailer (something he can now empathize with, considering his previous life), is quite a bit more than disturbing.

Maya yawns again, this time not quite able to stop it.

“Um- Have you slept at all?” Miles asks, hoping he’s doing a decent job of hiding his inner turmoil. If there’s one thing he’s taken away from observing both Wright and his father, it’s that a proper defense attorney tries not to show weakness in front of the people they’re defending.

“Not since like, the day before yesterday,” Maya says blearily, rubbing her eyes.

“The day before?”

“I just got to this part of LA,” Maya says. “I got off the train from Kurain yesterday afternoon, spent the evening window-shopping and grabbing some food, then went straight to my sister’s office. And… well.” She shrugs again, sighing deeply.

Miles didn’t know any of these details from his original life – and now the guilt in his chest threatens to sink him into the floor at the realization that he’d hoisted so many accusations against this poor young woman, sleepless and exhausted, fresh off a train and simply wanting to visit her older sister, only to find her freshly-dead body. (...I really was a monster...)

The rest of her interview was much like this – Maya sadly recounting the state she found her sister in, her activities in the hours before, and Miles doing his best to appear strong and caring while silently crumbling with guilt from all that he remembers from his previous life. It’s a strange paradox of feeling, to be both thankful that this Maya doesn’t know who he is (or was), but also sort of yearning that she would, so he could apologize profusely.

(This is unbearable. How does Wright do this all the time…? Wait, speaking of…)

Questions about Wright are still burning in his brain, but this time, Miles decides to be a bit more careful than with his father earlier.

“Miss Fey- do you remember anyone else being in that office when you found Mia’s body?”

Maya shakes her head. “No. No one else was there, just me.”

“Not even- Er. Wasn’t your sister working with anyone? Like an understudy?”

Maya squints slightly at him. “No? Mia wasn’t teaching anyone as far as I know. And it wasn’t me, if that's what you mean. I only just got here, and I’m training to be a spirit medium, not a lawyer. At least, I was.”

Miles ponders this. (So Wright wasn’t there? Strange… But now that I think about it, I recall something about another attorney also being involved with her case. Was Wright helping there?)

“Speaking of lawyers,” Miles says carefully, “Has no one else really tried taking your case?”

Gregory’s crossed his arms by now, tapping out a nervous rhythm with one finger. “Nope, no one. She said we were her very last hope.”

Maya nods, her lip trembling. “Not even Grossberg – and I tried. I really tried. I called him ten, twenty times maybe, but he just wouldn’t answer me.”

Gregory makes a surprised noise. “Not even Grossberg?”

“I don't know why,” Maya says, sniffling. “Mia told me he’d help if I was ever in trouble, but… I just don’t know…” Her voice falters, turning watery.

“Well don’t worry dear, we’re here now,” Gregory says softly. “We’ll definitely be paying his office a visit later, though. I’ll grill him if I have to...”

Maya sniffles, but calms herself enough to force a smile. “Y- yeah. Thank you, again.”

Gregory comforts her further as Miles looks between them, still quietly burning with anxiety.

(This is wrong, all wrong- Why hasn't Wright been mentioned this whole time? If he wasn’t at the office, and hasn’t contacted Maya or been contacted, then where is he?)

He finally can’t stand this anymore, and decides to just say it outright. “Pardon me, Miss Fey, but- why didn’t you approach Mr. Wright about this?”

Maya’s smile drops instantaneously, and her eyes widen with a deep, terrible fear. She stammers and clears her throat a few times before speaking again. When she does, her voice is very small, and very scared. “Um- Wh- why would I do that?”

It’s very strange – and when Miles glances over at his father, he’s giving him that look from the house again, as if he’s said something blasphemous.

Miles clears his throat, feeling drier suddenly. He shouldn’t press further if this is everyone’s reaction, but he has to know...

“Erm- well- Phoenix Wright, he’s an attorney, you see. He must have-”

“Miles,” Gregory interrupts, and Miles clamps his mouth shut at the all-too-familiar parental tone of voice – and at Maya’s increasingly dire expression as he spoke, cheeks pale and lips thinning into a tiny line by now.

Gregory glares at him from the corners of his eyes – then nods quickly to Maya. “I’m so sorry, Miss Fey- He isn’t- Erm- Give us a few moments, please.”

Maya isn't looking at them anymore, bowing her head and chewing at her lower lip. She nods quickly, and Miles finds himself tugged by his sleeve and ushered to the other end of the visiting room. As his father wheels around to face him, he feels much like a child again, and not in the good way.

“Miles, what are you doing?! Trying to traumatize the poor girl even more?”

“I- No, of course not!”

“Then why are you bringing him up around her as if you don’t know anything? It’s like- ugh, I don’t know, you've been acting strange all morning!”

Miles feels his ears burning with shame, but it’s still not as hot or insistent as the anxiety clawing at his belly, filled with fear and confusion over Wright – and he can’t suppress it anymore.

“I- I’m not- You're the ones being strange!” he says, all but shouting through gritted teeth. “Why won’t anyone tell me where Wright is or why he isn’t defending her!?”

Gregory stares at him again – that same look, that same sense of saying something absolutely terrible. He takes a breath and sighs harshly, removing his glasses to rub at his eyes – when he looks up again, his expression is of a strange, pain-filled sadness.

“Miles… I know you're worried about him, but please... Let's not be delusional.”

And at this, Miles finally begins to feel the weight of what all this strangeness means.

If he and his father are defending Maya instead...

If Mia Fey didn’t seem to have a protégé anymore…

If no other defense attorneys besides Grossberg seem to have been contacted...

If only a name seems to strike fear into everyone who hears it...

(Oh... Oh no. Oh no, no no. God, please, no…)

Miles swallows deeply, and tries to speak past the lump growing in his throat. “I- I guess I bumped my head worse than I thought. An uh… a reminder may be in order, father.”

Gregory sighs again, replacing his glasses upon his face but no longer looking Miles in the eye. Suddenly he looks… tired. Very tired. He seems to need to gather himself before speaking again.

When he finally does, he says plainly,

“Phoenix Wright is a prosecutor, son. The Demon Prosecutor. The State’s assigned him to this case, and last night you told me that you’re finally ready to face him. Remember now?”

Miles feels his blood run cold.

(Oh no.)

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