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wordofyourbroadway · 2 years ago

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Interview with the Creators of ‘Dusk : A Bite-Size Love Story’

(AKA... the Twilight Musical)

While surfing Tiktok last month, I stumbled upon a video, promoting a new comedic musical theatre parody of Stephenie Meyer’s famed “Twilight” franchise.

Originally released in 2005, Meyer’s iconic tetralogy of love and action, (and hot werewolf/vampire romantic interests), has been a subject of polarity. Some argue it is a masterpiece that turned them into readers, or got them into the fantasy genre, meanwhile others find it simply hilarious, and love to meme-ify it.

This new musical I discovered, seems to cover the story of Twilight in a way that pleases both sides. Not only is it hilarious and very aware of the silly aspects of the story, it is also clearly full of heart and it is visible that a lot of care and passion went into the creation process.

In March 2023, I posted one of my weekly “Word of Your Broadway” (my musical-theatre centered podcast) episodes, and funnily enough, I mentioned that I would love to see Twilight be turned into a comedic musical, similar to what “Starkid” did, with their infamous “A Very Potter” Musical.

So naturally, when I discovered “Dusk”, I took it as a sign, and I asked them if they would be interested in a written interview, which I can use to launch this blog, and they very kindly accepted!

See below for the Q’s, which were answered by director and writer, Morgan Kennedy (@Mo.Ea.Kennedy), and music composer, Daniel Ruffing (@DanielRuffing)...

1. Morgan, you said in an interview with ErieNewsNow, that ‘Dusk’ is your debut show. What would you say was the biggest lesson you learned during this process as a beginner?

MORGAN: “This entire process has been brand new to me! Every aspect of my life has been chaotically altered by this project. Despite a near 20-year involvement in musical theatre and even longer relationship with story-telling, nothing could have adequately prepared me for the last year-worth of synchronistic pandemonium Dusk has inspired. I hadn’t written for the stage before, so the most practical lesson I’ve learned has probably been standard formatting for musical theatre. The first draft looked like an average script, but the margins and stage directions (I’ve since learned) were a nightmare. This wasn’t initially of consequence, but it’s something I try to stay on top of now (I’m still learning). Dusk began with such impure intentions; I made a joke about writing a jukebox parody musical of Twilight to the director of another project I was working on last April, and she enabled the idea by saying “If you write it, we’ll do it.” Calling her bluff, I promised to have a script ready later that week, not ever intending to actually write one. To my surprise, however, I was struck with inspiration later that same evening and had a first draft together within four hours. That draft read more like a manic satirical retelling of Twilight than the loving critique it has become, and absolutely no effort was put into proper formatting or grammar. Spell check single-handedly made the document legible. My goal in completing it was truthfully just to follow through on the joke. I did not anticipate the excitement it caused or the initial iteration being so well-received. That was the point where I realized we had an opportunity to take the project seriously and that I should probably start learning how to ‘become a playwright.’ On a less practical note, the biggest lesson I’ve learned as a beginner playwright is the amount of collaboration and communication that goes into writing for theatre. It differs greatly, in my experience, from other forms of writing, which tend to be solo endeavors. For a musical, especially, so much goes into the development process that I now believe a strong team is absolutely crucial to your survival, haha. You need to be able to rely on people. This type of work necessitates a lot of trust and vulnerability, which can be overwhelming. I’ve had to navigate a number of personal lessons in that regard while developing Dusk, but I can gratefully say I’ve grown significantly as a result. I’m so thankful for my team; I couldn’t ask for better people to be spending all my time with. It is definitely a unique and intense sort of working relationship, though.”

2. Daniel, As the music composer of the show, do you think it was MORE challenging to compose a musical cast album for a franchise that already has such an iconic soundtrack, as opposed to an original piece, or was it easier because there was more inspiration to work off of?

DANIEL: “I actually found this to be one of the easiest projects in my music composition career! I really love creating musical nods and references in my previous works, so writing this musical involved a lot of that kind of thing. There’s definitely more inspiration to work off of, and it always provides a decent baseline to follow so that you, for example, aren’t making songs too “showtune-y.” One of my favorite writing exercises is to take one or two bars from a song and try to come up with my own song that transforms those bars into something original, and that’s a lot of what we did for this musical, especially with the help of George Meucci, who came up with samples for a few of the songs”

3. Your social media presence is very strong and you make awesome Tiktok videos that keep up with trends and draw in a large audience. How important of a role do you believe social media plays for musicals nowadays in relation to their success?

DANIEL: “It is crucial- so many musicals have had their success start on apps like TikTok, and the same is true for Dusk! With Dusk especially, our target audiences are younger than average theatregoers, so using social media has been integral to getting the musical seen and heard.

MORGAN: Dan is absolutely right! Social media plays a critical role in the growth of almost all concepts and stories these days, and Dusk is no exception. Where our situation differs slightly is that Dusk, as a parody, is a derivative work, which offers somewhat of a built-in fanbase. Twilight had such a global impact that the only way for us to feasibly reach a fragment of our intended audience is by using apps like TikTok and Instagram in hopes that the platforms’ algorithms direct our content to those who want to see it. As a bonus, these platforms allow us to connect directly with viewers of our content, and it’s been a lot of fun getting to interact with everybody commenting and leaving questions! It definitely feels like a special community to be a part of!”

4. I know there have been hints about a proshot being released soon, but personally I’m stoked for a potential cast album--any chance we will be getting one soon?

DANIEL: “There absolutely will be a cast album! We are just in the process of mixing and mastering all of the tracks, so hopefully, we have more information soon, but it will be available on all music streaming platforms!”

5. What are your hopes for the future of this musical?

DANIEL: “We are happy to announce that Dusk has been accepted to Edinburgh Festival Fringe this August, so a lot of our future will be dependent on that, but we’d love to do more performances around the world!”

MORGAN: “Along with bringing the show to more cities (more countries?), our team has talked about future hopes to license the Dusk. Personally, I’d love to see how a variety of creative visions and venue capabilities could impact the design and story-telling of the show. Especially because the inspiring-material is something so many people hold opinions on and feel an attachment towards. I have a suspicion that each company’s production would end up playing like a unique love letter, drawing attention to specific details overlooked by other teams who may be more attached to different elements of the story. I find that idea sweet and rather unprecedented for a parody piece.”

6. I noticed a lot of similarities between one of my favorite comedy musical groups, “Starkid”, and your show. I was wondering if they were an inspiration, and if not, who were some of your biggest inspirations during the process of creating this show?

MORGAN: “I’m embarrassed to admit how little familiarity I have with Starkid. I knew the group existed, but I didn’t know the type of work they produced until I started seeing comments comparing the style of our material to theirs online. What I’ve since seen of their work I’ve thoroughly enjoyed, though! I’ll definitely be checking out more! My primary inspiration to write the show stemmed from a silly critical analysis of Twilight I began building when I was 11. I was a fan of the books and movies as they were coming out, but I did not enjoy the first book in the same way my peers seemed to the first time I read it. I didn’t find myself relating to Bella or investing much into the relationship at all–I actually developed a vendetta against boyfriends who secretly did anything; especially when it involved sneaking through windows–but I was absolutely enchanted by Stephenie Meyer’s subtle worldbuilding. There is an undeniable coziness in her depiction of Forks that made it easy, at 11, to overlook any themes, plotlines, or characters that weren’t made for me. I didn’t become more invested in the story until I read New Moon the following year, which further inspired my critique of the series, but also quickly became a comfort read. It was the first book I encountered that explored themes of mental health–albeit, irresponsibly–which got my attention and encouraged me to read the rest of the series with a more focused critical eye. Going forward, I found myself balancing the themes and tones illustrated in the books against those of the films and landing in a place where I thoroughly enjoyed mocking the characters and their decision-making while also psychoanalyzing them and knowing exactly where those choices came from. And with immortal characters, the depths you can go to with a game like that are endless. Though I believe there’s a lot to be said about some of the unhealthy themes, irresponsible characterization, and marginalizing lore seen in the Twilight Saga, I’ll defend that Stephenie Meyer delivered a captivating story with heart and elements of truth that made an impact. I definitely relied heavily on details from the books when writing Dusk, but the movies and (hilarious) memes were also sources of inspiration. I would say that the plot of the musical was inspired by the books and the tone was inspired by the movies and online discourse. The characters are a happy blend of all three. The show’s development was quite expedited, as far as projects of this sort are concerned, so I didn’t have the time to consider ideas drawn from outside sources when creating the draft used for the workshop performance, which is the version people have been seeing clips from on social media. We are, once again, in the revision process, though, and this time I find myself wanting to incorporate elements of storytelling that aren’t explored in-depth within the Twilight universe but seem to exist in that world. I’m very interested in the dynamics amongst the supporting characters, for example. In that regard, I have been most inspired by Psychology journals, a few other book series’, and—oddly enough—Les Mis?”

7. If you could give any other popular movie or book franchise the “Dusk” treatment, which one would you choose?

DANIEL: “I know this sounds weird, but I’ve thought Interstellar would be an interesting challenge for a musical. Maybe not a parody, but I’ve had tons of ideas for songs, and I think it would be an amazing spectacle on stage. If I’m going the parody route, however, I’d have to say The Lord of the Rings franchise!”

MORGAN: “I have agonized over this question! Haha, this one is so hard! I don’t know! At this point in my ‘career,’ I just want to create the things I wish existed. I’m a huge reader, so I love the thought of focusing on book-to-musical adaptations. That evolution makes a lot of sense to me. I read anything now and imagine the staging, or where songs would fit within chapters, how I would choreograph them, the lyrics I’d use, etc. The dream would be to work with authors, helping them to adapt their works into musical productions while I continue writing my own stories. I know that I’m absolutely DYING to write fantasy for the stage, so I would probably choose to parody something in that genre. I’m not sure where I stand on this idea as a parody, but lately I’ve been making jokes about a musical adaptation of stories from the Sarah J. Maas Universe because I can see that entire show so clearly. The music would be stunning, and the visuals would be breathtaking, the combat: badass, and the banter? So indulgent. That being said, there aren’t plans for any more parodies at the moment. We’re working on developing a few original concepts next. We have some beautiful stories in the works!

(PSA: Despite our current plans, I’d rearrange my whole life several more times to work on an epic book-to-musical adaptation. Authors, hit us up! Haha.)”

----

EXTRA RESOURCES:

{ please check out my audio podcast, “Word of Your Broadway” on Spotify! }

{ Click here for the GoFundMe, to help Dusk out on their journey to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival }

SOCIALS FOR “DUSK”:

Twitter (@DuskMusical)

Instagram: (@Dusk_Musical)

Tiktok: (@Dusk_Musical)

Thank you all for reading, and thank you endlessly to Morgan and Daniel for participating! - Chloe Grace

My Twitter: (@WordOfYourBway)

0 notes

bloody-bee-tea · 4 years ago

Note

18, 15, 11 for sadness! love your fics sm

18) "Promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for them.”

Jiang Cheng is four when he writes something to his soulmate for the first time. He begged his sister to teach him to write hello, just so that he could let his soulmate know that he’s there and thinking of them and today his sister finally deemed his strokes readable enough to write them out.

Jiang Cheng’s hand shakes a bit—the brush still too big in his tiny hand—but under Jiang Yanli’s watchful eye he manages to write it down on his arm in a way that is at least readable.

“I did it!” Jiang Cheng yells excitedly when he is done and Jiang Yanli smiles at him and pets his head, clearly proud of him.

“And now we wait,” she says and Jiang Cheng sits down more firmly, his arm always in sight so that he doesn’t miss his soulmate’s reply.

It doesn’t take long at all for some new characters to show up, but they are a lot more complicated than what Jiang Cheng just wrote, and he’s not yet old enough to read them properly.

He eagerly holds his arm out for Jiang Yanli to read his soulmate’s message out to him, but he knows something is wrong when her face falls.

“What does it say, a-jie?” he still wants to know and Jiang Yanli pats his head again.

“It says ‘don’t write again’,” she reads out for him and Jiang Cheng pouts.

“That’s not very nice,” he mutters and climbs into Jiang Yanli’s lap when she pulls him over.

“No, it’s not. But it means your soulmate is older than you,” she says and flicks his nose.

“Like you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Jiang Yanli laughs.

“Maybe, yes,” she gives back and Jiang Cheng stares at the characters on his arm again.

He has a soulmate! And they are older than him!

“I will draw for them,” Jiang Cheng decides, because his mother berated him often enough that doodling odd shapes on his papers is actually not the same as properly writing characters, and his soulmate only told him to stop one of those things.

“You should do that,” Jiang Yanli encourages him though and Jiang Cheng gets started on it right away.

And he doesn’t stop, not even when he doesn’t receive an answer from his soulmate.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nine when he tells his soulmate his name.

He never again received an answer from his soulmate, but that never stopped him from continuing to doodle on his skin, much to his mother’s despair.

‘My name is Jiang Cheng’ he writes out one day, early in the morning, so he can scrub it off before breakfast and before his mother can say something to him about it.

He fears that his soulmate might not yet be awake and that he won’t get an answer until a much later time, but then he already feels the tell-tale tingle of his soulmate writing something.

Jiang Cheng has only felt it once in his life before, but it’s not a feeling you easily forget.

‘I don’t want to know’ is the reply he receives and Jiang Cheng’s face falls.

He scrubs his own name off his skin and sees with relief that his soulmate does the same on their end, but then the implication of what just happens hits him and he crawls under his blanket again.

His soulmate doesn’t want him. They didn’t even ask for his name before or any other identifying feature and now they didn’t even offer anything in return and Jiang Cheng has to bite back tears at that.

Fine, he thinks after long miserable minutes. If his soulmate doesn’t want him, then he doesn’t want his soulmate either.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is sixteen when he has to watch Wei Wuxian write obscenities on his arms in broad daylight and he’s also sixteen when he has to see Lan Wangji blush as he tries to cover the characters on his arm up.

There’s an ugly feeling forming in his chest and Jiang Cheng knows that it’s jealousy.

It seems like at least Wei Wuxian has a soulmate who is not completely against the match. It’s not like Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli can relate, and that thought at least brings some comfort to Jiang Cheng.

He’s not the only one who’s soulmate doesn’t like them.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is seventeen when his Sect burns and his family dies.

He knows it’s stupid, even as he puts a brush with shaking fingers to his arm, but he has to warn his soulmate.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if they are a cultivator or not, if they are in danger or perfectly safe, but he has to warn them to give them a fighting chance.

‘The Wens are attacking. Please stay safe’, he writes out, his strokes barely legible and then everything is a blur.

He does not get a reply from his soulmate.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is eighteen when he goes to war.

He spends three months looking for his brother, before he finds him and brings him home, and then he can only remember battlefield after battlefield.

Jiang Cheng simultaneously doesn’t feel old enough to be doing this and like he has never done anything else as Zidian swings in a wide arch over his head, but then everything blurs again as the next wave of Wen soldiers hit.

He always feels exhausted down to his bones these days but at least he knows that his siblings are safe and that’s more than many of the other soldiers can say.

Jiang Cheng tries not to think about his soulmate too much.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he feels alive for the first time in months as Nie Mingjue pushes him against a wall and follows the motion up with a kiss.

Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he’s been looking for a while now but then again, who hasn’t? It’s Nie Mingjue after all and Jiang Cheng cannot believe he gets to have this, if even for only one night.

He moves his hands over Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, leaning back against the wall and letting Nie Mingjue bite kiss after kiss down the length of his neck.

“This is no strings attached,” Nie Mingjue rasps out between kisses. “Don’t make it into something it’s not.”

“I’m not that naïve,” Jiang Cheng bites out, but his voice threatens to break away into a moan when Nie Mingjue sucks at the hinge of his jaw.

Jiang Cheng damn well knows what a war hook-up is, and he’s aware that after this is all done, things will be completely different.

Neither of them will have time to look at the other again, no matter if they even want to or not.

Though Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he really, really wants to. He wouldn’t mind if this became a more regular thing, if he’s being honest, but he keeps those thoughts to himself, which is not that hard when Nie Mingjue lowers his head to kiss a mark into the base of Jiang Cheng’s throat.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng pants out and his hands dig into Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “Come on, tent, tent!” he gets out despite the mind-blowing things Nie Mingjue is alreadydoing to him and he doesn’t even want to imagine how he’s going to survive the night.

But that is something he can figure out after they’ve had sex. For now, Jiang Cheng pulls Nie Mingjue on top of him again, after he pushed him down onto the bed, and he can’t wait for them to undress.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen and freshly fucked when he finds out that Nie Mingjue is his soulmate.

Jiang Cheng wakes up in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares like he so often is since the burning of Lotus Pier, and despite him being absolute exhausted he can’t fall asleep again.

So he takes his time to admire Nie Mingjue—and reminding himself that this is a one-time thing only—but when he can’t quite keep still anymore he starts to draw shapes onto Nie Mingjue’s arm.

He stopped drawing for his soulmate a long time ago, but it seems like old habits die hard, because Jiang Cheng is just mindlessly drawing shapes into Nie Mingjue’s skin when he feels an answering tingle on his own arm.

Jiang Cheng freezes because surely it can’t be. Surely this is just one big coincident.

He makes the same motion over and over again, always keeping an eye on Nie Mingjue to check that he doesn’t wake up, and Jiang Cheng shudders when he feels the phantom sensation of the same movement on his arm.

“No,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he doesn’t trust this; Nie Mingjue would have told him.

But now there’s this niggling doubt in Jiang Cheng’s mind so he cranes his head around to check if there are any brushes nearby. When he sees one he quickly gets out of bed to retrieve it, together with some ink, but when he turns around to the bed Nie Mingjue is staring at him.

“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, warily eying the brush in Jiang Cheng’s hand and a tiny part of Jiang Cheng thinks that’s already confirmation enough.

“You’re my soulmate,” Jiang Cheng says, and it feels strange to say it out loud, and he can see how Nie Mingjue immediately closes himself off.

“I’m not. I told you this is just a one time thing, don’t get any ideas in your head.”

“But I’m not just getting any ideas in my head, am I?” Jiang Cheng asks and before Nie Mingjue can say anything else, he dips the brush into the ink and moves it over his arm.

It’s just a wiggly line, but it’s enough because the same line shows up on Nie Mingjue’s arm, no matter how much he tries to hide it by pulling the blanket up.

“What the fuck, Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and then the anger bubbles over.

He always thought he was more sad that his soulmate doesn’t want him, but it seems like the anger was not far off, either.

“It doesn’t matter,“ Nie Mingjue snaps out turning away from Jiang Cheng.

“You could have at least told me. You could have at least told me that you don’t want me,” Jiang Cheng says and he puts the brush down with deliberately careful movements, because otherwise he might just break it.

“It’s not even—” Nie Mingjue starts but he cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter, Wanyin. We’re at war!”

“We weren’t when I was four, or nine, or fifteen, or any other time,” Jiang Cheng spits back because what kind of excuse is that even. “What are your excuses for those times, huh?”

“I’m going to die young, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and suddenly he sounds tired. “Either I die in two days, or in two years at best, but it’s going to be young. And I wasn’t about to do that to any soulmate. I’m not about to do that to you.”

That confession leaves Jiang Cheng speechless for a moment, before he manages to hold on to his anger again.

“So you just thought you’d fuck me once and be done with it?” he hisses and he can see how Nie Mingjue flinches at his words.

It feels like a very hollow victory.

“I just thought—I thought I could have this, at least for one night. Know how it felt like to be with someone that was intended for me,” Nie Mingjue whispers and he’s still not meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“You could have had it earlier. You can have it after we kill Wen Ruohan, too,” Jiang Cheng tries, because he doesn’t quite understand why Nie Mingjue is so pessimistic about everything.

Jiang Cheng is the one who already lost everything, and even he has more hope than Nie Mingjue it seems.

“I’m not sure—the assault in two days—” Nie Mingjue starts, but he trails off with a shrug. “There’s so much that can go wrong.”

“Then don’t lead it,” Jiang Cheng immediately says, but of course Nie Mingjue only laughs at that suggestion.

“You think I really could just send our people to die, while I stay behind? While I stay safe? Maybe we’re not made for each other, after all,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth together.

“Don’t you dare,” Jiang Cheng hisses, because how dare Nie Mingjue try to turn it around like this. “The intel we got from Lan Xichen’s spy was good so far, wasn’t it? What makes you think this one will be different?”

“It’s too good,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh. “Something is bound to go wrong sooner or later and with our luck it’s sooner. All it needs is one missed troupe movement; one wrong time and we’re all done for.”

“You really don’t think you’re going to survive that mission,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he can hear the quiet acceptance in Nie Mingjue’s voice.

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not, Wanyin. That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Mingjue? Please do enlighten me, because so far it doesn’t make that much sense to me.”

“I’m going to die young. It doesn’t matter if it happens at Wen Ruohan’s hands or if I succumb to a qi deviation, but I probably don’t have more than two to three years left. You really think I want you to suffer through that?”

“What do you mean, qi deviation? You seem perfectly healthy.”

“It’s a family thing,” Nie Mingjue tiredly says and scrubs a hand over his face. “My father died of one as did his father before. As will I.”

“I thought Wen Ruohan killed your father,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he shrugs awkwardly when Nie Mingjue stares in surprise at him. “What? I was the Sect heir, even back then. I did listen to politics and I heard you loud and clear.”

“Well, then you heard more than the other Sects did,” Nie Mingjue says with a bitter smile, but then he sighs. “It’s part of our cultivational style,” he then admits but Jiang Cheng won’t have it.

“No. I’m not going to let that happen. You can’t use that as an excuse, because I will find a way to prevent that.”

“And how are you going to do what my father and his father and his father couldn’t, huh?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, but he slightly turned towards Jiang Cheng, which gives him more hope than it probably should.

“Dual cultivation, for one,” Jiang Cheng says. “Your father’s wives were already dead when it happened, right? That could help. That could give you time.”

“It’s not a permanent solution,” Nie Mingjue warns him and Jiang Cheng stubbornly shakes his head.

“But it will give me enough time to figure something else out. Our Clarity Bells are not called like that for nothing,” Jiang Cheng admits, his eyes falling to the bell fastened to his belt. “We don’t make a big deal out of it, but we Jiangs are pretty good healers.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue lowly says and Jiang Cheng can tell that he still wants to tell him no.

“One good reason, Mingjue. Give me one good reason why not, especially now that I know. Something apart from your qi deviations.”

“The mission in two days,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back. “I don’t have a good feeling about it and it’s more than likely that we both won’t survive the war at all.”

“So you just make sure you survive the mission and then we can give this a try, is that what you’re saying.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue starts but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“No, tell me,” he begs, because he needs to know if there are other reasons for Nie Mingjue to hold back all this time. “It’s—if you have a problem with me, just tell me that and we can move on, but don’t use these excuses.”

“Why would I have a problem with you?” Nie Mingjue asks and he seems honestly taken off guard by that. “Did you already forget what we just did? Why would I do that if I want nothing to do with you?”

“I don’t know, Mingjue, I’m not the one who willingly stayed away from my soulmate since he was four,” Jiang Cheng bitterly shoots back and Nie Mingjue’s entire face softens.

“Wanyin,” he breathes out and then he offers his hand to Jiang Cheng. “Wanyin, come here,” he cajoles him and Jiang Cheng is helpless but to go to him.

He slides their hands together and when Nie Mingjue tugs him onto the bed, Jiang Cheng snuggles into his side. He can feel that Nie Mingjue is still reluctant, but in the end he puts his arm around Jiang Cheng.

“My father didn’t make a secret out of my fate,” Nie Mingjue admits. “By the time you wrote me that very first time, I already knew I wouldn’t live past 25.”

“It won’t happen,” Jiang Cheng says again, because maybe if he just says it often enough he can will it to become true.

“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue amends and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “But back then—I just didn’t want to do that to you. And then you told me your name and suddenly I had a face to go with my soulmate and it honestly just made things so much more difficult. Huaisang kept me updated on you and Xichen couldn’t stop talking about how Lan Qiren likes you and I knew I could only make you unhappy, so I stayed away.”

Nie Mingjue takes a deep breath.

“And then you lost your family, your Sect; even your brother for a while. I wasn’t going to add to that misery.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Jiang Cheng says, and he is honestly a bit choked up, but he will still not allow this. “But I refuse to be coddled. Yes, I already lost everything; I’m not about to lose you, too.”

“This is not something you can out-stubborn,” Nie Mingjue tries, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand why he still simply won’t accept that he’s settled with Jiang Cheng now.

“Did you see the people I brought to this fight? I out-stubborned the destruction of my Sect, your health problem is nothing to me,” he says, much more confident than he really feels, but he’s sure if Nie Mingjue would just give them a chance, they can figure something out.

“God, I adore you so,” Nie Mingjue whispers and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head.

“Then finally accept that I’m your soulmate and that I’m here to stay,” Jiang Cheng bites out, furiously trying to keep the blush off his face, but of course he’s failing.

“After the mission,” Nie Mingjue amends. “After the war. If we survive this—then we can try.”

Jiang Cheng is not happy with that, not at all, but it’s better than anything else he got so far, and so he’ll take it.

“Okay.”

“But promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for everyone. They will need a new leader and Xichen isn’t cut out for this,” Nie Mingjue says.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng gets out, trying to keep his tears back, because Nie Mingjue is already so convinced that he won’t survive this, it’s almost like he’s already dead. “But Wen Ruohan doesn’t get to kill you, too.”

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue soothingly whispers and while Jiang Cheng is aware that there’s still a lot to talk about, he doesn’t resist when Nie Mingjue pulls him down with him again.

They can talk after the war.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he hears that Nie Mingjue and his people have been caught; the mission was a trap, just like Nie Mingjue feared and now he’s in Wen Ruohan’s hands.

When Jiang Cheng brings a brush with shaking hands to his skin, it almost feels familiar, but in the last second he thinks better of it. He can’t let Wen Ruohan know that Nie Mingjue has a soulmate; the man is already sadistic enough. Who knows what he will come up with to torture Nie Mingjue.

So Jiang Cheng can do nothing more but to trace shapes into his skin over and over again, hoping that Nie Mingjue can feel him.

Apart from that, Jiang Cheng can only fight.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when Meng Yao stabs Wen Ruohan and just like that the war is won.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to celebrate with the other’s just yet; he needs to find his soulmate first, before he can get to that.

He makes his way into the palace, letting his instincts guide him deeper and deeper inside, until he finally finds the throne room.

Nie Mingjue is there, laid out on the floor, and for a split second Jiang Cheng is afraid that he’s too late; that all of Nie Mingjue’s dark premonitions were true and that this is it for them.

“Mingjue,” he yells, running up to Nie Mingjue and skidding to a stop on his knees right by his side.

He’s almost afraid to touch him, to feel his cold skin, but then Nie Mingjue’s eyelids flutter and Jiang Cheng could sob with relief.

“Mingjue,” he whispers again and pulls Nie Mingjue up, so that he’s laying in his lap.

“Don’t trust him,” Nie Mingjue mutters, turning towards Jiang Cheng. “Meng Yao. Don’t trust him.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng immediately promises him, and if this is important enough for Nie Mingjue to tell him in this state, then he will heed his warning. “I got you now, don’t worry.”

“Didn’t die,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile, even though Jiang Cheng can tell that he must be in agonizing pain, judging by the wounds all over him.

“No, you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and he thanks all the gods for that, as he leans down to press a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s forehead.

“You get your chance, then,” Nie Mingjue says and raises a hand to cup Jiang Cheng’s face. “I didn’t die, so you get to find a way to keep me alive.”

“Done,” Jiang Cheng promises him and covers Nie Mingjue’s hand with his own. “We’ll figure it out.”

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nineteen when his brother-in-law, his sister and his brother die in quick succession.

He wants to crumble with his grief, but the baby in his arms relies on him to stand and it’s not like Nie Mingjue would let him fall, either.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-one when he marries Nie Mingjue, and despite how close his grief still is, it’s the happiest day of his life.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-three when Nie Mingjue starts to suffer qi deviations. While Jiang Cheng hates to see his husband suffer like that, it finally gives him the opportunity to see what the Clarity Bell can do for him, and from then on it’s almost easy for him to figure out how to make it have a permanent effect on Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-six when he and Nie Mingjue adopt a little sister for Jin Ling and when Jiang Cheng looks at the tiny four-year-old held securely in Nie Mingjue’s arms, who’s beaming with happiness, Jiang Cheng wonders what’s in store for her life.

It’s not like he could have ever imagined to end up this happy when he was four and he hopes his daughter will have the same happiness waiting for her.

Dialogue Prompts

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #mingcheng #soulmates #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #getting together #canon-compliant #mostly at least #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #anon

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

Text

Being Regulus’ S/O and Watching Him be Corrupted by His Family • Headcanon

(GIF not mine)

Warnings: angst! The Dark Mark, Voldemort, the Noble house of black deserves their own warning, death mention, poor regulus

Request: hi beautiful! could i request headcanons for regulus black's s/o? a female one if it's not too much trouble:) could i get some angst with reader saying "All I ever wanted was your approval, because I didn't know I was allowed to want anything else." if that might be too triggering, please feel free to ignore that part. maybe regulus is being "corrupted" by his mother and starting to turn into what she wants him to be? and the reader disapproves and tries to get him to realize that what he's doing is wrong? take care of yourself, luv <3 — @lucellence

A.N: oops I like this, I think. There’s more dialogue than I thought but that’s ok. I hope you guys enjoy! And love you all ❤️

Your boyfriend, Regulus Black, started acting odd after winter break in your fifth year

Sure, he was always soft spoken and a little distant before, but this was different

He wanted to be alone more often and always looked like he never actually slept at night

Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier started hanging around you, Regulus, and Barty in the Great Hall

You could deal with Barty, he and Regulus were friends since they were 11

But the other three?

They were known bullies and blood supremacists

They made you uncomfortable

“Reg can we please go somewhere else?”

“(Y/n)—“

“Please Reg?”

He looks so torn. Glancing between his new friends and the love of his life

“Yeah, ok”

So you go and sit at the top of the Astronomy tower or in the far corner of the library

But he doesn’t look all there

He’s listening to you and smiling at you

But he still looks like he’d rather be with them

And it hurts

He also stops complaining about his mother and his other family members

In fact, you try to talk to him about the many letters he gets from his mother and sometimes even Bellatrix, but he refuses to acknowledge them

He doesn’t open them at the table, he stuffs them in his robes and opens them in private in his own dorm

“They aren’t important, ma colombe (my dove in French according to Google). So don’t worry about it.”

“If they aren’t important, then why are you getting one from Narcissa’s boyfriend as well?”

“He just...wants to get to know the family better, (Y/n). You know he’s planning on proposing to her soon.”

“Yeah...I guess that makes sense.”

But if it was such an innocent letter, why was he hiding it from you?

You notice that Regulus’ eyes never settle

His light grey eyes constantly flick around like he’s suspicious of every little movement

This continues until you have to part ways at the end of the year

He’s not allowed to visit you

You’re not allowed to visit him

“You’ll stay safe, right Reg?”

“You worry about me too much, ma colombe.”

“Well when you live with that Merlin awful mother of yours—“

“Honestly, she’s not that bad, (Y/n).”

“Not that bad? Regulus are you serious?”

“No, I’m Regulus—“

“Ugh, you’re lucky I love you.”

“Indeed I am...” He mumbles under his breath

But the train finally stops, meaning Regulus has to rush off to meet his father in the platform

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before rushing out, barely promising to write over the summer

Regulus writes to you here and there

Not as often as usual

Then, in July, he stops writing altogether

This could be for a number of reasons, honestly, and none of them good

You hope he’s alright

You get one letter late in August

The script is shaky and barely legible

Smudged in certain places like he didn’t wait for the ink to dry before sending it

Dearest (Y/n),

Sorry for the late reply, mother wanted visit our cousins in Germany Bulgaria their estate in France.

I truly wanted to write back, but you know my family. I never had time alone. Always watching, they are.

It sounds like you’ve had an amazing summer, and I can’t wait to see you on the train.

Be careful out there,

RAB

The uneasiness doesn’t go away

Because you know he’s lying

You don’t send a reply, knowing full well that you won’t get another letter from him

You meet him on the Hogwarts Express

The hug is quick and is only with one arm—his left one staying at his side at all times

Much to your dismay

You have to share your compartment

You’re squished next to the window, Regulus next to you, Barty next to him

Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier across from you

You hate every minute of it

They sneer at you the entire time

You study your boyfriend the entire way to school

How he has darker bags under his eyes

And his hair isn’t as neat and proper as usual

His clothes are stiffer and heavier on his smaller frame

Skin paler, eyes duller

He tries to act casual, his left arm just out of the way of the action

But you notice as he sometimes winces during a turn or cradles it closer to his body

You grow suspicious

Let’s flashfowards a bit to....November

It’s the middle of the night and you’re following Regulus down to the library

He’s alone, looking like he doesn’t want to be caught

He quickly starts rummaging through the Restricted Section

Which isn’t bad, everyone sneaks into the Restricted Section at least once in their Hogwarts careers

But then he starts flipping through books about Dark Magic

And the sleeve of his grey jumper starts to roll up

And you see it

The Dark Mark

Black and wriggling against his pale flesh

“What have they done to you, Regulus?”

He whips his head to your frame so fast, his books clatter to the ground

His eyes widen in fear

“(Y/n), I can explain.”

“You can explain?” You’re starting to shout

“(Y/n), let’s take this somewhere else. Please—“

“What? You don’t want me to expose you? Expose you for being a Death—“

“Silencio!”

And suddenly your screams are cut off, you look at him, tears in your eyes

“Oh Salazar, I’m sorry.” He looks like he’s about to cry, pacing in front of you, fingers tightly grasping his hair in panic. “I’m so so sorry, (Y/n)...”

He reaches out to you

“I’m going to take you somewhere, ok? We need to go before we get caught. Please. Please just trust me.”

Reluctantly you follow him to the Room of Requirement

Which has taken the form of a similar library

Shelves lined with books and other magical artifacts

He quickly reverses the spell once the door is closed

“What the hell, Regulus?”

“I—“

“Let me see it.”

You push his sleeve up to once again reveal the inky snake and skull tattoo across his forearm

“Oh Regulus...”

“I couldn’t stop it.” His voice wavers and he’s trying to push back tears. “They brought me and a few others to his manor, and I was forced—“

“We’ll go to Dumbledore—“

“You don’t understand, (Y/n)! I felt him! I felt his cold hands wrapped around my arm! His veins fueled with raw power! Dumbledore won’t be able to stop him. No one will!”

“Please, Reg! You were forced, I’m sure it can be reversed if you just tell the Headmaster now—“

“They’ll kill me, (Y/n)! Don’t you understand? They already suspect my doubt! That’s why I’m being watched. Monitored even at school. One wrong word, one slip of the tongue and I’m dead!”

You wrap your arms around him, careful to avoid his searing arm

He returns the hug, tears dripping into you as he chokes back sobs

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do this, Reg. I swear.”

“Of course I have to. I have no other choice.”

“You can be like Sirius! And live with the Potters. Or with me.”

“And when the Death Eaters come hunting you down? When they burn down your house with you inside? Tortured? Screaming in agony? That’ll be my fault.”

He looks absolutely terrified

Eyes wide, lips wobbling

He can barely catch his breath

“No, (Y/n). I can’t do that.”

“You’re not your mother, Regulus. Or Bellatrix, or Narcissa. You can be like Andromeda and Sirius. You can get out. There’s still time.”

“They’re manipulating you, Reg! Corrupting you! You aren’t a bad person or a dark wizard!”

You bring your hands to cup either side of his jaw

Your own tearful eyes lock onto his

“You’re my boyfriend. You’re sweet and caring...and—and...Merlin Reg! I can’t even describe you, you just mean so much to me. I can’t lose you, Reg. No, I refuse to lose you.”

“I—I don’t want to die...” He sobs, so openly and freely

You’ve had enough of this

You take him by the hand and lead him out the door, which is easy in his weakened and fatigued state

The two of you march through the corridors to Dumbledore’s office

He’ll know what to do

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

Regulus Taglist: @lunalovecroft

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black angst #regulus black Headcanon #regulus black imagine

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rivalsforlife · 4 years ago

Text

The AAI Cast Takes On Twitter

Hello! For the release of ace attorney investigations 2 ten years ago, on the official AA twitter account, Capcom posted a bunch of tweets that were made to sound like they came from the characters themselves. You can still find them if you dig far enough, but it’s a bit of a pain to find and especially a pain to understand in English, so I decided to compile them all here and attempt to translate them. (They have also been “localized” in true ace attorney fashion.)

First, a disclaimer: I am absolutely NOT a translator and my understanding of Japanese is abysmal. I put the original tweets through google translate and then went through trying to make them legible, including looking up words and phrases when they didn’t make any sense. As a result, I can’t guarantee that this is completely accurate, and I definitely messed with phrasing a bit to get things to flow better or sound more in character. Hopefully the general gist of things should make sense! I’ll put the original Japanese text below the English one, and if you actually know Japanese and would like to properly translate it, please do so! I just wanted to get this out here as fast as possible.

If you want to view the original tweets, I’ve filtered them (mostly!) here in reverse-chronological order. There are tweets from the game staff at the end that I did not “translate”.

With that said, here are the tweets. (It is long, so most of it is under the cut.) The breaks are things I added that I believe were breaks in time on the actual account, and represent new scenes.

-----

<Edgeworth>: I was told to “tweet” what I usually think about to commemorate the release of “Ace Attorney Investigations 2”... What should I do?

<Kay>: Come on, Mr. Edgeworth! First, you need to introduce yourself!

<Edgeworth>: Oh. Sorry for the late introduction. My name is Miles Edgeworth, a prosecutor at the District Attorney's Office. Kay informed me that this is “Tweeter”.

<Kay>: No! It’s pronounced "Twitter"!

<Edgeworth>: Is it "Tweeter"? I'm not very good at this kind of thing ...

<Kay>: Okay, moving on. Ace Attorney Investigations 2 is about to be released, and Mr. Edgeworth has a lot to say, right?

<Edgeworth>: Mm. Certainly, there are few opportunities like this, so this should be a valuable experience.

<Kay>: Then this Great Thief, Kay Faraday, will teach Mr. Edgeworth the fun of tweeting!

<Edgeworth>: I’m not very interested in that… but alright. More importantly, Kay, do you want to start working soon?

<Kay>: Yes! Then, we can play later!

<Edgeworth>: (Well, if you have any questions, do not hesitate to tweet.)

<Kay>: Mr. Edgeworth ... Your inner voice is in the tweet! Isn't that neat?

<Edgeworth>: Ah! Tweeter… I shouldn’t underestimate it.

-----

<Edgeworth>: It's already 12 o'clock ... I wanted to take a break for lunch, but it seems that I won’t get the chance. The detective just reported a new case. I'm heading to the scene right now.

<Edgeworth>: Detective Gumshoe seems to have been in a hurry. He said he “lost something important”... It’s probably not something to worry about. I should concentrate on the investigation first. It takes a careful investigation to find out the truth hidden in the scene. There are many things that cannot be understood from desk work alone.

<Edgeworth>: I've arrived at the scene. Mm? It seems that some pencils have fallen near the victim.

<Edgeworth>: Search for the connection between information. That is the pursuit of "Logic". Assembling "Logic" is the key to the investigation even in Ace Attorney Investigations 2. “Something lost by Detective Gumshoe” and the “pencil left on the scene” ... There is one answer that can be derived from the two pieces of information.

<Edgeworth>: Detective Gumshoe! It seems that we found your lost pencil. ‥‥ Don’t leave extra evidence on the scene!

<Edgeworth>: Hmm ... Finally, the truth of the scene has come into view. This case will likely be resolved soon.

-----

<Kay>: Good evening! I came to play as promised!

<Gumshoe>: Welcome, Kay!

<Kay>: Huh? Gummy, are you also on Twitter?

<Gumshoe>: It’s popular among my detective friends. As long as my number of followers keeps increasing, I’m happy!

<Edgeworth>: What is a "follower"?

<Gumshoe>: Well, people who read your tweets. To put it simply, it’s like a friend group.

<Kay>: It seems that there are many people who are watching this tweet! Ehehe. That makes me kind of happy!

<Edgeworth>: Hmm. Friend group...? That sounds a little embarrassing, but thank you, followers.

<Kay>: Hmm. I feel that followers and friends are a little different. Well, as long as he’s happy.

<Edgeworth>: Let’s say that tomorrow we’ll spend more time with our followers on Tweeter.

-----

<Gumshoe>: I've been waiting for you, Prosecutor Edgeworth!

<Edgeworth>: Mm. Good morning Detective Gumshoe. It's rare for you to get to court earlier than me.

<Gumshoe>: That’s because I have to set a good example for my followers! I skipped dinner last night so I wouldn't be late.

<Edgeworth>: What does skipping dinner have to do with getting up early?

<Gumshoe>: Well, it sets a “belly clock”, so you wake up at breakfast time!

<Edgeworth>: (There are too many problems with that, and I don't feel like pointing them all out... I’ll just stay silent.)

<Gumshoe>: Mr. Edgeworth ... We can see the tweets of your inner voice, you know…?

<Edgeworth>: It's about time for the court to open. I'm heading into court without any uncertainty today.

-----

<Kay>: Hello everybody! I'm Kay Faraday, also known as the Great Thief Yatagarasu. Fufufu ... I’m actually in the gallery right now! I wanted to see Mr. Edgeworth and Gummy in court, and keep an eye on the enemy!

<Kay>: Oh! Mr. Edgeworth screamed, “Objection!” This is the 5th time today. The other lawyer is sweating now. The judge’s gavel is getting fierce! Eh -- what? “You can’t tweet in the courtroom…?” Hey!

<Kay>: Uh ... I was kicked out of the courtroom. As expected by the new rival of Ace Attorney Investigations 2, Justine Courtney! She seems like a kind judge, but also very observant.

<Kay>: This is an unexpectedly strong enemy! Mr. Edgeworth, are you okay ...?

<Edgeworth>: Kay. What were you doing in the gallery today?

<Gumshoe>: I was surprised to see Kay being kicked out of court!

<Kay>: I didn't think that tweeting was prohibited. As a Great Thief, this is the ultimate mistake!

<Edgeworth>: If you have time to regret breaking the rules of the court, use it to learn a little more about them.

<Kay>: If I had to leave the court anyways, I wanted to have a cooler exit, befitting of a Great Thief!

<Gumshoe>: … I don’t think she regretted breaking the rules.

<Kay>: Anyway! You’ve already finished your work today, right?

<Edgeworth>: Yes, I finished my work in the courtroom today. It looks like we can have a nice holiday.

<Kay>: So, why don’t the three of us go play together! Bowling, karaoke, game centers, etc.!

<Edgeworth>: No ... I'm not very good at such things.

<Gumshoe>: Since it’s Friday night, why don’t we play around and recover from working hard! I think watching movies would be fun!

<Kay>: Yeah, you worked so hard this week! Now, let’s go play!

<Edgeworth>: *sigh*. Whatever I say, it’ll be a waste of time… If we must, at least make it a movie.

-----

<Gumshoe>: This Saturday morning is a nice time for a walk! I sometimes take a walk with Missile to build strength and give him training. As the “partner” of Prosecutor Edgeworth, I want to be useful in Ace Attorney Investigations 2!

<Gumshoe>: When investigating with a metal detector or collaborating with Missile, I will be second to none! Hey, Missile! Hmm? Is a scent bothering you? Aaaaa! Mi-Missile has run away! He must’ve smelled food.

<Gumshoe>: When this happens, I have to rely on the odor to chase after it! This is part of the investigation process! Uh… I lost him right away. When this happens, I have to prepare sweets that Missile likes to lure him in! … I’m so overwhelmed.

<Kay>: It’s a shame to keep Missile as a police dog. He stole away Samurai Dogs from this Great Thief and ate them…! I was trying to eat with Ema.

<Gumshoe>: Sorry about that, pal. By the way, what were you doing together? Collecting fallen leaves…?

<Ema>: We’re grilling Samurai Dogs on this fire we made from scientific chemicals!

<Gumshoe>: Huh. Scientific chemicals, pal…? Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Missile! Do you feel alright?

<Kay>: It’s fine! He ate it before we started the fire.

<Gumshoe>: Oh. I wish I got to have some...

<Edgeworth>: It’s not good to use chemicals to play with fire, Ema. Scientific research is important, but please use moderation.

<Ema>: Yes! Moderation! By the way, are you going somewhere?

<Edgeworth>: Yes. I have some business. ... I don't have much time, so excuse me.

<Kay>: ... Mr. Edgeworth, where are you going?

<Ema>: Fufufu. In this case, we can follow his footsteps! Using the power of science… in moderation!

<Kay>: Alright! Let's follow him… in moderation!

<Gumshoe>: They both have a strange definition of “moderation”...

-----

<Kay>: That overwhelming scale! I think I’m going to cry! That’s a first for an orchestra concert!

<Ema>: The powerful sound of brass instruments and the splendid melody of woodwind instruments! Scientifically speaking, changing between different sounds is what makes music good.

<Edgeworth>: Umm. While I was looking forward to today, I didn't expect you two to follow me.

<Kay>: I wanted to bring Gummy as well, but he had to walk Missile, so he couldn’t come with us.

<Edgeworth>: The detective can still hear the “Ace Attorney Investigations 2 Orchestra Arrangement Collection” CD. You can pre-order one at E-Capcom.

<Ema>: I already pre-ordered it, of course! I’ll also get the 1:10 figure of Mr. Edgeworth!

<Edgeworth>: A 1:10 figure of myself? I don't remember measuring my height, but ...

<Kay>: That's because I stole Mr. Edgeworth's height perfectly!

<Edgeworth>: I'm a little hesitant to say it in the orchestra hall, but let me just say one word.

<Kay>: "Objection!"

<Edgeworth>: Wha…? How did you --!

<Ema>: This must be the famous technique of the Great Thief, stealing the words right out of his mouth! How informative!

-----

<Edgeworth>: I have no plans today, so I will spend my time reading at a nearby coffee shop. Naturally, I want to relax on Sundays.

<Edgeworth>: I’m drinking high-quality black tea in a comfortable sunny place. Today is going to be a good day off.

<Edgeworth>: Speaking of which, the other day, a follower named “Wendy” greeted me here on Tweeter. I don’t know how to return messages, so I haven’t done so yet. Let me thank you here. Ms. Wendy, thank you for following me.

<Oldbag>: E… Edgey-pooooooo! I finally found youuuuuuu!

<Edgeworth>: Gah! What are you doing in this coffee shop ...!?

<Oldbag>: No way, Edgey-poo! Just now, didn’t you say this on Twitter? Didn’t you just say “Ms. Wendy, thank you”? You made this old lady so happy! I just ran around all the coffee shops and searched for you everywhere, Edgey-poo. The power of lo

<Edgeworth>: Do you talk too much to fit on Tweeter? So, “Wendy” was you! No matter how many coffee shops you visit, there’s no way you found me so easily… Are you hiding something?

<Oldbag>: If you say that without evidence, you’d tarnish the title of “prosecutor!” I have nothing to hide from my dearest Edgey-poo!

<Edgeworth>: Hmm… Even without evidence, if I read your reactions and feelings, I can expose the truth while only using my words.

<Oldbag>: Oh, I heard about this, Edgey-poo! Isn’t it called “Logic Chess”? I know everything about you, Edgey-poo!

<Edgeworth>: What do you mean by “I know everything?”

<Oldbag>: You see, it’s because I’m a security guard. Recently, because the whippersnapper who was there before me got fired, I was temporarily guarding the prosecutor’s office. At that time, I just so happened to see your address, Edgey-poo.

<Edgeworth>: …………… I didn’t even need to pull out information, and you’re already telling me the answer!

<Oldbag>: Oh. It was a slip of the tongue. I thought I would get to see Logic chess.

<Edgeworth>: Well, could you see it in Ace Attorney Investigations 2? Please excuse me, I have very important business to attend to.

<Oldbag>: You mentioned that you have no business today! Today, I will never let you go!

-----

<Edgeworth>: Ngh… That was quite the disaster today.

<Edgeworth>: I was too careful just because it was a holiday. I was neglecting my remarks and wasn’t vigilant of those around me ...

<Edgeworth>: Mm? Now “Tweeter” is showing something from “Wendy”. … “Sorry. - Wendy.” … I’m not going to respond to that!

-----

<Gumshoe>: Prosecutor Edgeworth, did you hear? Agent Lang is coming from the Republic of Zheng Fa!

<Edgeworth>: Hm. Is he also involved in an international case? I didn’t have the opportunity to talk to him for long the last time. If I have time, I’ll go greet him.

<Gumshoe>: The last incident was a difficult one. I couldn’t talk much with Agent Lang’s subordinates, either.

<Gumshoe>: There are 100 people who know about it.

<Edgeworth>: If you tried to talk to everyone, the sun would set before you did.

<Gumshoe>: To be honest, I gave up trying to remember my own face and name.

<Edgeworth>: That’s just being lazy!

-----

<Lang>: Yo, Mr. Prosecutor. It's strange to see you in a place like this.

<Edgeworth>: It's been a long time, Agent Lang. I never thought we would meet again at a restaurant like this.

<Lang>: I just happened to see this place while I was looking for somewhere I could go alone.

<Edgeworth>: Alone ...? That’s unusual for you. Aren’t you usually with your subordinates?

<Lang>: Well… Lang Zi says: “To know the feelings of a lone wolf, you should leave the pack.” Sometimes I do things on my own.

<Edgeworth>: Is that so? However, I see a contradiction right there on your table.

<Lang>: Hah! Is that the prosecutor’s famous “deduction”?

<Edgeworth>: For someone eating alone, you ordered a lot of “platters”, which seem to serve over twenty people.

<Lang>: Arooooooo! ‥‥Oops. It seems I have a habit of ordering too much. If you don’t mind, Mr. Prosecutor, would you take a little?

<Edgeworth>: It seems that you’re not very good at acting alone.

-----

<Kay>: Eh? Agent Lang’s coming here again?

<Edgeworth>: Ah, yes. Unlike before, though, it seems like he’s acting alone for some reason.

<Kay>: Isn’t that because it’s difficult to sneak around with too many people? It’s an important rule for a Great Thief!

<Edgeworth>: He is an “international investigator”, not a “Great Thief”. … Anyway, he seemed to come to this country for some purpose.

<Kay>: Then, we might meet him again at a crime scene.

<Edgeworth>: Even if we both desire to pursue the truth, our paths often run counter to each other. If I meet him in the field, we may argue.

<Kay>: That’s nice. I also want a rival that will change me as a person! Ahh… I wonder if they’re out there… the rival who wants to hunt down the Great Thief!

<Edgeworth>: If you want to be arrested so badly, ask Detective Gumshoe.

<Kay>: Ugh! You just don’t get it!

-----

<Kay>: It's finally February!

<Edgeworth>: Oh. So it is...

<Gumshoe>: I'm looking forward to February 3rd!

<Gumshoe>: At our police station, we will sow beans for the bean-throwing festival! February 3rd is a precious day when you can eat soybeans for free!

<Kay>: Every year, I challenge myself with how many beans I can throw! “Out with the demons, in with the fortune, and in with the Great Thief’s treasure!”

<Edgeworth>: Did you forget the most important thing?

<Kay>: I was just kidding! Of course I remember what’s happening February 3rd!

<Gumshoe>: There is no reason to forget the release date of Ace Attorney Investigations 2!

<Edgeworth>: Mm ... I hope.

-----

<Edgeworth>: It’s three days before the game goes on sale. I hope the followers look forward to it as well.

<Edgeworth>: Investigating in winter is necessary, even if it’s cold, and you can’t catch a cold before the game goes on sale. Ergo, please take proper measures against the cold.

<Edgeworth>: Speaking of which, Detective Gumshoe wears the same coat all year round. Doesn’t that get cold? Ah… maybe it’s just that his salary is too low to buy anything else.

<Edgeworth>: ……… Should I invite Detective Gumshoe for dinner? What little I know about his eating habits worries me. I don’t think he’d eat instant noodles in winter…

<Edgeworth>: There is a handmade udon restaurant near the prosecutor's office. The taste is satisfying for a reasonable price. ‥‥‥‥‥‥ Though, when it comes to inviting Detective Gumshoe, I shouldn’t limit myself to just noodles.

<Edgeworth>: Mm. I tweeted that it was only 3 days before the game’s release, but it was 2 days. I worked all night in the office yesterday. It seems my sense of time has gone haywire.

<Edgeworth>: What I tweeted then was contradictory… Pardon me. Thank you, followers who pointed that out.

---

<Gumshoe>: This pork roast is delicious! This is my first one of the year!

<Edgeworth>: Detective Gumshoe. Stop eating while tweeting!

<Gumshoe>: I've been eating only plain pasta this year. I couldn’t help myself!

<Kay>: I could, but I still tweeted!

<Edgeworth>: It may not be instant ramen, but his eating habits are always in crisis.

<Gumshoe>: Ugh... every time I make a mistake while investigating, the cost of living becomes a crisis.

<Kay>: But the one who is in the most danger right now is Mr. Edgeworth, isn't it? I saw it in a commercial! He’s having his “biggest crisis!”

<Gumshoe>: I heard it too ... What kind of mistake did you make, sir?

<Edgeworth>: Don’t compare me to you! I don’t know what it is, but I’m not afraid of any crisis. No matter what happens, I simply do what I think is right.

<Kay>: As expected of Mr. Edgeworth! Well, you can always count on this Great Thief to help you in an emergency!

<Gumshoe>: Of course, I will help too! If you want to manage your living expenses in a crisis, sir, just leave it to me!

<Edgeworth>: First, could you try helping me as a detective?

-----

<Kay>: By the way, Mr. Edgeworth, what kind of person is your father?

<Edgeworth>: … Why would you suddenly ask such a question?

<Kay>: I just asked Mr. Shields. He said your father was a very good person! I also respect my dad, so I was a little curious about yours.

<Edgeworth>: When I was a child, he was someone I highly respected, and… the kind of man I aspired to be.

<Kay>: Huh? Is it different now?

<Edgeworth>: ……… About that… It’s difficult to explain. If you want to know the answer, please wait until tomorrow.

<Kay>: I see! The answer is hidden in Ace Attorney Investigations 2. I’ll be sure to steal the truth about Mr. Edgeworth!

-----

<Kay>: Gummy! Please decorate it from the right side!

<Gumshoe>: Here it is! Oh no, the decoration fell!

<Edgeworth>: What are you doing in my office in the middle of my workday?

<Gumshoe>: I’m off duty, but since today’s the eve of the release date, I’m preparing a party!

<Kay>: It's almost time to tweet! Mr. Edgeworth, please work and just ignore us!

<Edgeworth>: If you truly want that, then please stop climbing on my desk. … I’ll finish work soon, so please wait until then.

<Kay>: Eh! Are you going to help us?

<Edgeworth>: I would like to celebrate.

<Gumshoe>: That’s helpful, sir! Then, I’ll be sitting on the sofa and waiting until it’s time!

<Edgeworth>: ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ Just wait in the corridor.

-----

<Gumshoe>: Cheers for the release of Ace Attorney Investigations 2!

<Edgeworth>: Hmm ... This party for the eve of the release is rather nice.

<Kay>: Ehehe. Tomorrow, we’ll give it our all!

<Edgeworth>: Umm. Thank you very much.

<Kay>: This is the last of our tweets ... It's a little regrettable.

<Edgeworth>: But I’m glad I had this opportunity to directly express my gratitude for the week. Those who were watching our tweets… let me thank you again.

<Gumshoe>: I still have something to talk about, but we’re already out of time!

<Kay>: But the eve of the release has only just begun! After this, you can talk to the development staff of “Ace Attorney Investigations 2” directly!

<Gumshoe>: Oh! Is that the plan?

<Kay>: I’m certain, because it’s information I stole from Capcom! It seems like it will start around 18:00!

<Edgeworth>: I do have a lot to ask, but let's leave that to the followers. Well then, excuse us for now.

<Edgeworth>: If you have any questions for the development staff, please quickly send them in!

------

Translation notes first:

The localized foods are as follows:

dorayaki -> Samurai Dogs (since Missile also has a habit of eating those, though I don’t believe the original was dorayaki?)

somen -> instant ramen

katsudon -> pork roast

shirataki -> plain pasta

The “bean-throwing festival” is Setsubun, a festival where you toss soybeans and eat some in order to toss out bad luck and bring in good luck (to my understanding, please correct me if I’m wrong). What Kay said (minus the Great Thief part) is one translation of a phrase you shout while throwing the beans. I obviously gave up on trying to localize this.

------

Original Japanese (minus breaks):

〈ミツルギ〉：『逆転検事２　発売直前記念』として、私が日頃思っていることを“つぶやく”ように言われたのだが‥‥どうすればいいのだろうか？

〈ミクモ〉：ダメですよミツルギさん！まずは自己紹介からしないと！

〈ミツルギ〉：ム。紹介が遅れてすまない。私の名前は御剣怜侍、地方検事局で検事をしている。ミクモくんに教えてもらったのだが、これが“ついたー”というものなのだな。

〈ミクモ〉：違いますよ！“ツイッター”ですってば！

〈ミツルギ〉：“ついったー”か。こういったアレは、あまり得意ではないのだが‥‥。

〈ミクモ〉：まあまあ。逆転検事２も発売間近ですし、ミツルギさんも言いたいこといっぱいあるでしょ？

〈ミツルギ〉：ム。確かにこういった機会は少ないから貴重ではあるな。

〈ミクモ〉：それじゃ、この大ドロボウ・一条美雲ちゃんが、つぶやく面白さをミツルギさんに教えちゃいますよー！

〈ミツルギ〉：そちらはあまり興味がないが‥‥まあいいだろう。それよりミクモくん。そろそろ仕事を始めたいのだが？

〈ミクモ〉：はーい！　それじゃ、また後で遊びに来ますね！

〈ミツルギ〉：（まあ、気になったことがあれば気軽につぶやくとするか）

〈ミクモ〉：ミツルギさん‥‥。心の声がつぶやきに出てますよ！興味津々じゃないですか！

〈ミツルギ〉：なッ！ついったー‥‥あなどれんな。

〈ミツルギ〉：もう１２時か‥‥優雅にランチといきたいところだが、そうもいかないようだ。先ほど刑事から新たな事件の報告が入ったのでな。いま、現場に向かっているところだ。

〈ミツルギ〉：イトノコギリ刑事は、“大事な物をなくした”と慌てていたようだが‥‥どうせたいした物ではないだろう。いまは捜査に集中するべきだ。現場に隠された真実を知るには、入念な捜査を必要とする。デスクワークだけでは分からないことも多いのだ。

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥現場に到着だ。ム？被害者の近くに“えんぴつ”が落ちているようだな。

〈ミツルギ〉：情報同士の共通点を探す。それこそが《ロジック》を追うということだ。逆転検事２でも《ロジック》を組み立てることが捜査の重要なカギを握っている。現場に残された“えんぴつ”と“イトノコギリ刑事がなくした物”‥‥２つの情報から導き出せる答えは１つ。

〈ミツルギ〉：イトノコギリ刑事！キミが無くしたというえんぴつが見つかったようだ。‥‥現場に余計な証拠品を残さないように。

〈ミツルギ〉：ふむ‥‥‥‥ようやく現場の真実が見えてきた。この事件は早急に解決できそうだ。

〈ミクモ〉：こんばんわ！約束通り遊びにきましたよ！

〈イトノコ〉：いらっしゃいッス！ミクモちゃん！

〈ミクモ〉：あれ？ノコちゃんもツイッターやってるんだ？

〈イトノコ〉：刑事仲間の間でも流行ってるッスよ。フォロワーもどんどん増えて、うれしい限りッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥“フォロワー”とは何なのだろうか？

〈イトノコ〉：えーと。自分のつぶやきを読んでくれる人たちのことッス。簡単に説明すると“トモダチの輪”って感じッスかねえ。

〈ミクモ〉：このつぶやきを見てくれている人たちも、たくさんいるみたいですよ！えへへ。なんだかうれしいですね！

〈ミツルギ〉：ふむ。トモダチの輪‥‥か。��々恥ずかしくもあるが、ありがたいことだな。

〈ミクモ〉：うーん。フォロワーとトモダチとはちょっと違うような気もしますケド‥‥。ま。喜んでいるみたいなのでいいや！

〈ミツルギ〉：明日も“ついったー”で、フォロワーに恥じぬ時間を過ごすとしよう。

〈イトノコ〉：お待ちしてたッスよ！御剣検事！

〈ミツルギ〉：ム。おはようイトノコギリ刑事。私よりはやく裁判所に着くとはめずらしいな。

〈��トノコ〉：フォロワーのみんなに、カッコ悪いとこを見せられないッスからね！遅刻しないように、昨夜は夕飯を抜いておいたッスよ。

〈ミツルギ〉：夕飯を抜くのと早起きをするのに、何の関係があるというのだ。

〈イトノコ〉：すさまじい“腹時計”で、朝ご飯の時間に目覚めることが出来るッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：（問題が多すぎて、指摘する気にもなれん。‥‥ここはあえて黙っているとしよう）

〈イトノコ〉：御剣検事‥‥。心の声のつぶやきが自分にも見えるの、分かってやってるッスよね‥‥？

〈ミツルギ〉：そろそろ開廷の時間だ。余計なセンサクをしていないで、法廷に向かうぞ。

〈ミクモ〉：みなさんこんにちは！大ドロボウ・ヤタガラスこと一条美雲です。ふっふっふ‥‥実はいま、傍聴席にいるんですよ！敵情視察も兼ねて、ミツルギさんとノコちゃんの法廷姿を見ておこうと思って！

〈ミクモ〉：あ！ミツルギさんがまた『異議あり！』って叫んでる！今日はこれで５回目ですねー。相手の弁護士さんも汗だらだら流してますよ。裁判官の木槌も激しくなってます！えーとなになに？“法廷内でのつぶやきは却下しま‥‥す？”え。ちょ、ちょっと！

〈ミクモ〉：ううう‥‥‥‥法廷内から追い出されちゃいました。さすがは逆転検事２の新ライバル“水鏡　秤”さん！優しそうな裁判官だと思ってユダンしていました。

〈ミクモ〉：これは思わぬ強敵ですよ！ミツルギさん、大丈夫かなあ‥‥？

〈ミツルギ〉：ミクモくん。今日は一体傍聴席で何をしていたのだ。

〈イトノコ〉：法廷から追い出されるミクモちゃんを見て、ビックリしたッスよ！

〈ミクモ〉：まさかつぶやきが禁止とは思いませんでした‥‥。大ドロボウとして、一生の不覚です！

〈ミツルギ〉：後悔するヒマがあるのなら、法廷のルールについてもう少し学んでおきたまえ。

〈ミクモ〉：どうせ退廷させられるのなら、もっとカッコ良く立ち去りたかったです！大ドロボウとしては！

〈イトノコ〉：‥‥そっちで後悔しているとは思わなかったッス。

〈ミクモ〉：それはともかく！　今日はもうお仕事終わりなんですよね？

〈ミツルギ〉：今日の法廷で仕事は一段落ついたからな。気持ちよく休日をむかえられそうだ。

〈ミクモ〉：せっかくだから、いまから３人で遊びに行きましょうよ！ボーリングとかカラオケとか‥‥ゲームセンターとか！

〈ミツルギ〉：いや‥‥私はそういったものはあまり得意ではないのだが。

〈イトノコ〉：まあまあ。金曜日の夜はパーッと遊んで、仕事の疲れを癒すものッスよ！映画とかもいいッスねえ！

〈ミクモ〉：今週もお仕事お疲れ様でした！さあさあ。遊びに行きましょう！

〈ミツルギ〉：まったく。いまのキミたちには何を言ってもムダのようだな。‥‥せめて、映画にしてくれたまえ。

〈イトノコ〉：土曜日の朝は散歩日和ッスねえ！ミサイル。体力作りとミサイルの訓練も兼ねて、たまに一緒に散歩してるッスよ。御剣検事の“パートナー”として、逆転検事２では自分も役に立ちたいッスからね！

〈イトノコ〉：金属探知機を使った捜査やミサイルとの連携なら、誰にも負けないッス！ねー。ミサイル！ん？何か気になるニオイでもあるッスか？ああああッ！ミ、ミサイルが走って行っちまったッス！ミサイルは食べ物のニオイがすると突っ走っちゃうッスよ。

〈イトノコ〉：こうなったら自分もニオイを頼りに追いかけるしか！こっちも捜査のプロッスからね！うぅ‥‥‥‥‥‥さっそく見失っちまったッス。こうなったら、ミサイルが好きなお菓子を用意しておびきよせるッス！‥‥本末転倒な気もするッスけど‥‥。

〈ミクモ〉：警察犬にしておくには惜しいですね、ミサイル。まさか大ドロボウから“どら焼き”を盗み食いするなんて‥‥！せっかく、あかねちゃんと２人で食べようとしてたのになあ。

〈イトノコ〉：おどろかせてすまねッス。ところで、さっきは２人で何をしてたッスか？落ち葉をこんなに集めて‥‥。

〈アカネ〉：ヒゾウのカガク薬品でおこした火を利用して、あったか～い “焼きどら焼き”を作ろうかと！

〈イトノコ〉：え。カガク薬品ッスか‥‥？ミミミミミサイル！お腹の調子は悪くないッスか！

〈ミクモ〉：大丈夫だよ！火をおこす前に食べられちゃったから。

〈イトノコ〉：ほっ。だったら良かったッス。

〈ミツルギ〉：ぜんぜん良くないだろう。カガク薬品を使って、公共の場で火遊びなど。あかねさん。カガクの研究は大事ですが、ほどほどにしていただきたい。

〈アカネ〉：はい！ほどほどにします！ところで、どこかにお出かけですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：ええ。少し用事がありまして‥‥。あまり時間がないので、失礼します。

〈ミクモ〉：‥‥ミツルギさん、どこに行くんだろうね？

〈アカネ〉：ふっふっふ。そんなときは足跡を辿ればいいんですよ！ほどほどにカガクの力を使って！

〈ミクモ〉：よーし！ほどほどに尾行しましょう！

〈イトノコ〉：２人とも‥‥ほどほどの使い方がおかしい気がするッス。

〈ミクモ〉：あの圧倒的なスケール！涙なしには語れません！オーケストラコンサートなんて初めてです！

〈アカネ〉：金管楽器の力強い音と、木管楽器の華麗な旋律！音のカガク変化を起こすことで、音楽は作られているんですね‥‥。

〈ミツルギ〉：うム。この日を楽しみにしていたかいがあったというものだ。‥‥まさか、キミたちまでついてくるとは思わなかったがな。

〈ミクモ〉：ノコちゃんにも聞かせてあげたかったな−。ミサイルの散歩があるから、一緒に来られなかったんですよね。

〈ミツルギ〉：刑事には、サウンドトラックＣＤ「オーケストラ・アレンジ楽曲集　〜奏でられし逆転〜」を聞かせるとしよう。いまからでもイーカプコンで予約出来るだろう。

〈アカネ〉：あたしはもちろん予約済みです！御剣検事さんの“1/10フィギュア”もバッチリゲットしますよ！

〈ミツルギ〉：私の1/10フィギュア？身長などを測られた覚えはないが‥‥。

〈ミクモ〉：そりゃもう、わたしがミツルギさんの情報をバッチリ盗んでおきましたからね！

〈ミツルギ〉：オーケストラホールで言うのはいささかためらわれるが‥‥一言だけ、言わせていただこう。

〈ミクモ〉：“異議あり！”‥‥ってね！

〈ミツルギ〉：な‥‥なぜキミが言うのだ！

〈アカネ〉：これが有名な大ドロボウの技“言葉を盗む”ですね。勉強になります！

〈ミツルギ〉：今日は特に予定が入っていない。近くの喫茶店で読書をして過ごすとしよう。‥‥さすがに、日曜日ぐらいは落ち着いて過ごしたいからな。

〈ミツルギ〉：心地よい日の当たる場所で、上質の紅茶を飲む‥‥。今日は良い休日になりそうだ。

〈ミツルギ〉：そういえば、先日“カオルさん”というフォロワーから、ついったーでアイサツされたのだが‥‥。アイサツを返す方法が分からなかったので、まだ返せていないのだ。ここで改めて礼を言わせていただこう。カオルさん、フォローしていただき感謝する。

〈オバチャン〉：ミ‥‥ミッちゃぁああん！やっと見つけたよぉおおお！

〈ミツルギ〉：ぐッ！ど、どうしてあなたがこの喫茶店に‥‥！

〈オバチャン〉：やだよミッちゃん！こないだこのツイッターとやらでアイサツしたじゃないか。さっきも“カオルさん、感謝する。”って言ってくれただろう？オバチャンうれしくなっちゃってねえ。ついついそこいらの喫茶店を巡ってミッちゃんを探しちまったのさ。愛のチカラっ

〈ミツルギ〉：は、早口すぎて“ついーと”におさまっていないではないか！しかも、“カオルさん”とは‥‥‥‥あなたのことだったのか！いくら喫茶店を巡ったといっても、こんなにカンタンに見つかるワケはない。‥‥何か隠していることがあるのではないか？

〈オバチャン〉：ミッちゃんったら、証拠もないのにそんなこと言っちゃ検事の名がすたれちゃうよ！オバチャンがミッちゃんに隠し事なんてするわけないじゃないのサ！

〈ミツルギ〉：フッ‥‥証拠品がなくとも、あなたの反応や感情を読み取り“言葉のみ”で真実を引き出してみせよう。

〈オバチャン〉：ああ。それならオバチャンも聞いたよ、ミッちゃん！《ロジックチェス》っていうヤツだろ？オバチャン、ミッちゃんのことなら何でも知ってるんだからね！

〈ミツルギ〉：“何でも知っている？”‥‥とはどういうことだろうか？

〈オバチャン〉：ほら。オバチャン警備員だからさ。このあいだ、前に勤めてた子がクビになったっていうから臨時で検事局の警備をしてたんだヨ。そのときにミッちゃんの住所がたまたま目に入っちゃってサ。

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥‥‥こちらから情報を引き出すまでもなく、自分で答えを言っているではないか！

〈オバチャン〉：あら。つい口が滑っちまったヨ。せっかくロジックチェスが見られると思ったのに残念だねえ。

〈ミツルギ〉：そ、それは逆転検事２で見ていただけないだろうか。私は用事があるので失礼する！

〈オバチャン〉：今日は用事がないってつぶやいてたじゃないか！今日という今日は、オバチャン絶対に逃がさないヨッ！

〈ミツルギ〉：く‥‥今日はさんざんな目にあった。

〈ミツルギ〉：休日だからといって気を抜きすぎていたな。自分の発言や周囲の警戒を怠っていたとは‥‥。

〈ミツルギ〉：ム？また“カオルさん”から私あてに“ついーと”が来ているな。『残念無念　カオル』‥‥と言われても、断じて誘いに乗るつもりはない！

〈イトノコ〉：御剣検事、聞いたッスか？ロウ捜査官が西鳳民国から来ているみたいッスよ！

〈ミツルギ〉：ほう。また国際的な事件に関わっているのだろうか。彼とはあまりゆっくり話す機会が無かったからな。時間があればアイサツぐらいは行くとしよう。

〈イトノコ〉：前回の事件は大変だったッスからねー。自分も、ロウ捜査官の部下の皆さんとはあんまり話せなかったッス。

〈イトノコ〉：なんせ知ってるだけでも１００名はいるッスからねえ。

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥全員と話そうとすれば、日が暮れて��まうだろうな。

〈イトノコ〉：正直、顔と名前を覚えるのもあきらめたッス。

〈ミツルギ〉：すべ��をあきらめているではないか！

〈ロウ〉：よう。検事さん。こんなところで会うとはキグウだな。

〈ミツルギ〉：久しぶりだな、ロウ捜査官。まさか、このような飲食店で再会するとは思わなかったが。

〈ロウ〉：どっか１人で落ち着ける店を探してたら、たまたまここが目に入ったんでな。

〈ミツルギ〉：１人‥‥？キミにしてはめずらしいではないか。いつもの部下たちは一緒ではないのだろうか？

〈ロウ〉：まあな‥‥。狼子、曰く！“単独犯の気持ちを知るには、群れを離れるべし”ってな。オレだって１人になるときはあるさ。

〈ミツルギ〉：ほう？だが、それにしてはキミのテーブルにはムジュンがあるようだ。

〈ロウ〉：ハッ！検事さんお得意の“推理”ってやつかい？

〈ミツルギ〉：１人で食べるにしては、注文した料理は“大皿”ばかりで、量はどう見ても２０人以上に見えるのだが？

〈ロウ〉：うおおおッ！‥‥しまった。いつものクセでつい頼みすぎちまったよう��。よければ検事さん、少しもらってくれねえか？

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥１人で行動するのは、あまり得意ではないようだな。

〈ミクモ〉：ええ！ロウさん、またこっちに来てるんですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：ああ。以前と違い、なぜか１人で行動していたようだ。

〈ミクモ〉：それは、やっぱり大人数だと忍び込むのが難しくなるからじゃないですか？大ドロボウの鉄則です！

〈ミツルギ〉：彼は“国際捜査官”だろう。‥‥なんにせよ、彼には目的があってこの国に来ているようだったな。

〈ミクモ〉：それじゃ、また現場で会うかもしれませんねー。

〈ミツルギ〉：真実を追い求める気持ちは同じでも、時にはぶつかることもある。もし現場で出会うことがあれば、戦うことになるかもしれないな。

〈ミクモ〉：いいなあ。わたしも自分を高めてくれるようなライバルが欲しいです。ハア‥‥どこかにいないかなあ。大ドロボウを追い詰める好敵手！

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥逮捕されたいのなら、イトノコギリ刑事にでも頼みたまえ。

〈ミクモ〉：もう！そういうことじゃないんです！

〈ミクモ〉：ようやく２月になりましたね！

〈ミツルギ〉：ああ。いよいよだな‥‥。

〈イトノコ〉：２月３日が楽しみッス！

〈イトノコ〉：ウチの警察署では、節分の豆まきをやるッス！２月３日は、タダで大豆が食べられる貴重な日ッスよ！

〈ミクモ〉：わたしは毎年、投げられる豆をどれだけ受け取れるか挑戦してるんですよ！“鬼は外、福は内、大ドロボウは盗み”って感じで！

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥一番大事なことを、忘れているのではないだろうか？

〈ミクモ〉：冗談ですってば！２月３日といえば、もちろんアレですよね！

〈イトノコ〉：逆転検事２の発売日を忘れるワケないッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：ム‥‥ならばいいのだが。

〈ミツルギ〉：発売まであと３日。フォロワーの方々も楽しみに待っていてくれたまえ。

〈ミツルギ〉：冬場の捜査は、寒くてかなわないな‥‥。発売前に風邪を引くわけにはいかん。しっかり防寒対策をしなければな。

〈ミツルギ〉：そういえば、イトノコギリ刑事は年中同じコートを着ているが、寒くないのだろうか‥‥。ああ‥‥単に、給与が下がりすぎて買えないだけかもしれないな。

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥‥‥夕食はイトノコギリ刑事でも誘うとするか。彼の食生活は、はた目から見ていても不安になる。まさか冬にそうめんを食べていることはないだろうが‥‥。

〈ミツルギ〉：検事局の近くに手打ちのうどん屋がある。リーズナブルな値段の割に、味も満足のいくものだ。‥‥‥‥いかん。イトノコギリ刑事を誘うとなると、ついつい麺類にばかり考えがいってしまうな。

〈ミツルギ〉:ム。さきほど発売まであと３日とつぶやいたのだが、発売日はあさって‥‥あと２日だったか。昨夜は、執務室で徹夜仕事だったのでな。日付の感覚が狂ってしまったようだ。

〈ミツルギ〉:私としたことが、つぶやきが“ムジュン”していたとは‥‥失礼した。指摘してくれたフォロワーの方、感謝する。

〈イトノコ〉：カツ丼美味いッスぅううう！今年初めてのトンカツッスよ！

〈ミツルギ〉：イトノコギリ刑事。つぶやきながら食べるのはやめたまえ！

〈イトノコ〉：自分、今年は水炊き鍋で“しらたき”ばかり食べてたッスからねー。

思わず叫んじまったッス！

〈ミクモ〉：叫んだんじゃなく、つぶやきですけどね！

〈ミツルギ〉：ソーメンではなかったが、彼の食生活はいつも危機的状況だな。

〈イトノコ〉：うう‥‥捜査で失敗するたびに、生活費がピンチになるッスからね‥‥。

〈ミクモ〉：でも、いま一番危機が迫っているのは、ミツルギさんのほうなんじゃ？

ＣＭで見ましたよ！“最大のピンチ”だって。

〈イトノコ〉：自分も聞いたッスよ‥‥。いったい、どんな失敗をしちゃったッスか！

〈ミツルギ〉：キミと一緒にしないでくれたまえ！

身に覚えはないが‥‥ピンチを恐れていても仕方がないだろう。

私は、自分の信じる道を行くだけだ。

〈ミクモ〉：さっすがミツルギさん！いざとなったらわたしも力を貸しますからね。大ドロボウとして！

〈イトノコ〉：もちろん自分もッス！ピンチな時の生活費のやりくりならお任せッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥せめて、刑事として力を貸してもらえないだろうか。

〈ミクモ〉：そういえば。ミツルギさんのお父さんって、どんな人なんですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥なぜ、いきなりそんな質問を？

〈ミクモ〉：さっき信楽さんに聞いたんですよ。ミツルギさんのお父さんは、すごく立派な人だったって！わたしもお父さんを尊敬してたから、ちょっと気になっちゃって。

〈ミツルギ〉：幼い頃の私にとっては、尊敬すべき相手であり‥‥目標でもあった。

〈ミクモ〉：あれ？いまは違うんですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥‥‥どうだろうな。一言で説明するのは難しい。この答えを知りたいのならば、明日まで待ってくれたまえ。

〈ミクモ〉：なるほど！逆転検事２に真実が隠されている‥‥と。ミツルギさんの真実、私が盗んじゃいますよ！

〈ミクモ〉：ノコちゃん！そっちの飾りは、もっと右よりでお願い！

〈イトノコ〉：こっちッスね！あ、飾りが落ちたッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：昼間から、人の執務室で何をしているのだ。

〈イトノコ〉：今日は非番ッスからね！明日の発売日に向けて、前夜祭の準備をしてるッスよ！

〈ミクモ〉：そろそろ、つぶやく時間もなくなって来ましたからね！

ミツルギさんは気にせず仕事をしててください！

〈ミツルギ〉：そう思うのなら、机の上にのぼるのはやめていただきたい。

‥‥もう少しで仕事が片付くから、それまで待っていたまえ。

〈ミクモ〉：え！ミツルギさんも手伝ってくれるんですか？

〈ミツルギ〉：私とて祝いたい気持ちはあるのだ。

〈イトノコ〉：助かるッス！

それじゃ時間までソファーに座って待ってるッスよ！

〈ミツルギ〉：‥‥‥‥‥‥廊下で遊んでいてくれないだろうか。

〈イトノコ〉：逆転検事２発売に向けて、乾杯ッス！

〈ミツルギ〉：フッ‥‥前夜祭というのも良いものだな。

〈ミクモ〉：えへへ。明日には、わたしたちのカツヤクをお見せできるんですね！

〈ミツルギ〉：うム。感慨深いモノがあるな。

〈ミクモ〉：わたしたちのつぶやきも、これで最後になるんですね‥‥ちょっと名残惜しいです。

〈ミツルギ〉：だが一週間のあいだ、このような機会をいただけて良かった。直接、感謝を伝えることが出来るのだからな。私たちのつぶやきを見ていた方々。‥‥あらためて礼を言わせていただこう。

〈イトノコ〉：まだまだ話したいことはあるッスけど、もう時間ッスからね！

〈ミクモ〉：でも、まだ前夜祭は始まったばかりですよ！なんと！このあと「逆転検事２」の開発スタッフに直接質問ができちゃうんです！

〈イトノコ〉：へえ！そんな企画があるッスか！

〈ミクモ〉：カプコンから盗んできた情報だから、確実ですよ！１８時ぐらいから始まるそうです！

〈ミツルギ〉：私としても聞きたいことはたくさんあるのだが‥‥そこはフォロワーの方々に任せるとしよう。それでは、私たちはこれで失礼する。

〈ミツルギ〉：開発スタッフに聞きたいことがあれば、どんどん追及してくれたまえ！

#ace attorney #aai2 #(no spoilers though!)#miles edgeworth #kay faraday #detective gumshoe #my posts #really hoping there isn't some egregious error in there hahaha!#also hoping someone appreciates it half as much as I do #but even if no one does this was fun to look at

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haikyuuhoo · 4 years ago

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Broken Promises

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Summary: In which your heart keeps pulling you back to a place you wish you could just forget.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: ANGST. That’s it. Enjoy :)

A/N: This is kinda like a college!AU? Akaashi and Bokuto are roommates lol. Anyway, here’s me jumping on the bandwagon and writing a fic while listening to Driver’s License. I haven’t stopped playing it all day.

Find Part 2 here!

You know how sometimes you're driving, and you end up not remembering what you did for the last few minutes, then you suddenly come to and you're at a place you don't remember driving to? That must have been how you ended up in front of Akaashi's house, blinking up at it like you were waking from a dream. As soon as you realized where you were you peeled out of the neighborhood, shaking your head and gripping the steering wheel tight.

That can never happen again.

But it did, and it happened nearly every night.

There were times you noticed before you turned onto his street, and you quickly drove past, trying not to sneak a glance down the road to his home. Other nights you didn’t realize until you had been sitting outside for a few minutes. You tried to make it stop, but it was so hard when you lived so far from campus, your evening classes just rendering you so tired. Your mind wandered as you drove, and you knew you should probably make a habit of getting a coffee or something so you wouldn’t be driving in this state, but you avoided it because you wanted to be able to fall right into bed when you got home. You skipped dinner most nights because of how exhausted you were, and you could hear Akaashi’s voice in your head each time.

Akaashi stroked his fingers over your hair, a soft frown forming on his face as he took in the way you pressed your face into the pillows. “You really need to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

You knew he was scolding you, but his voice was so soft that it nearly made you melt. “’M tired, ‘Kaashi,” you whined, burrowing yourself further into the blankets.

“I know you are, angel, but you need to eat. I know you barely have any time for lunch. I want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

You huffed, turning to press your cheek against the pillow and look up at him with sleepy eyes. “Will you stay with me?”

He smiled, knuckles grazing across your cheek as he brushed your hair out of your face. “Of course I will. I’ll even fall asleep with you if it’ll make you feel better.”

Nodding, you sat up and managed a tired smile. You always slept so much better with him next to you, especially with how busy you’d been lately. When you were with him you could just relax, forget about everything that was making you stressed. He made you feel safe.

But nowadays you could never bring yourself to pull your body out of your bed after throwing yourself on it once you arrived home, limbs already sinking comfortably into the mattress. You fell asleep, probably missing one too many dinners and crying far too many tears.

And so you always ended up back there, back where your subconscious took you every day. Where your heart pulled you. You knew the turns without even thinking, and you wished you didn’t. You wished you’d never come here at all, not even before you and Aakaashi split. It would make this so much easier.

You were grateful for the days when your friends joined you on your drives. Talking to them kept you conscious enough of your driving that you didn’t even think about going to Akaashi’s. But, well, you didn’t think about that any other day either and you ended up there anyway… They just kept you in the moment, and it prevented your subconscious from taking over and driving you to his house.

This time, when you came to, you were in tears. You were still driving, and you had to pull over due to the tears blurring your vision. You covered your face with your hands and sobbed, a horrible, gut-wrenching sound forcing its way out of you. If anyone had been observant enough to notice your drives, they might think you were stalking him. But you were doing the opposite. All you wanted to do was forget about him, but your mind wouldn’t let you. Your heart wouldn’t let you.

You’d never felt the way you felt about him for anyone else. You’d never loved anyone the way you loved him.

He just didn’t feel that way about you.

You spared a glance over at the driveway, and it only made you cry more. Akaashi’s car was there, but in place of where Bokuto’s car usually sat was a car you didn’t recognize. You knew it wasn’t Kuroo’s—you’d sat in the back seat of it plenty of times on the way to parties—and if he were there then Bokuto would have been anyway. Truth be told, it could have belonged to any of his friends, but you couldn’t help the way your mind drifted and wondered who it was. Was it a new girl? Was she better than you? Was she sitting with him on his couch? Was she eating dinner with him? Was she warming his bed? Was she laying her cheek on the same pillow you used when you stayed at Akaashi’s house?

The thought made you want to throw up, and you rolled down the window to get some fresh air.

Once you’d calmed down a bit, the chill of the night settling inside your car, you pulled down the sun visor in front of you. You surely had mascara under your eyes, and you flipped open the cover to the mirror so you could wipe it away. Your breath caught in your throat as a folded piece of paper fluttered into your lap, its crinkled and worn surface illuminated by the glow of the streetlamp you sat beneath. You picked it up with a shaky hand. You knew what it was. You had half a mind to tear it to shreds, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. So instead you opened it, and you read.

Akaashi had brought you out for a beautiful picnic to celebrate your one-year anniversary. Sakura trees blossomed all around you, petals falling like snow when the gentle spring breeze blew through the park. You were laying on the blanket he’d brought, eyes closed, belly full, and smiling in content as you let the sun warm your face. Akaashi was laying beside you, but he propped himself up on one elbow, smiling as he looked down at you. Gently, he began picking up the small fallen flowers and placing them in your hair. After a few moments you lifted a hand up to shield your vision from the sun, peeking one eye open.

“What are you doing?” you giggled, and you couldn’t help the way your heart leapt at his reaction.

He blushed, freezing and looking down at you like a flustered schoolboy. “Nothing,” he said softly.

You smiled at him. “You’d better be making me look pretty.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward, and he placed another flower in your hair. “You already look pretty.”

Closing your eyes again, you let out an amused hum and dropped your hand to rest on your stomach.

Akaashi hesitated, moving his arm that was supporting him downward so he could slip his hand into his pocket. He thumbed the corner of a folded piece of paper and bit his lip nervously. Clearing his throat, he sat up fully and looked down at you as he retrieved the paper from his pocket.

You raised your eyebrow and opened your eyes again when you noticed he was now shading you from the sun, and you sat up when you saw him looking at you. He thrust the paper toward you before you could even ask what was wrong.

“I wrote this for you.”

You took it from him, unfolding it and looking at the page. It was a poem. You glanced at him, and he gave you a small nod that encouraged you to begin reading. Your gaze trailed over the page carefully, and tears began forming in your eyes before you knew what was happening. You blinked them away as best you could, a few flowers fluttering back to the ground when you brought a hand up to wipe your eyes. “It’s so beautiful,” you whispered, reading it over and over again before you finally looked up at him. “I-I love it. Thank you, Keiji.”

He gave you a relieved smile, tears of his own brimming in his eyes. “I meant every word of it,” he breathed, leaning close to you and cupping your cheek.

“I love it,” you said again, and when you closed the gap to kiss him you could taste the tears on his lips.

You tasted salt on your tongue and realized you were crying again, both from heartbreak and at the beauty of his words. He’d always been a beautiful writer; you even enjoyed reading his essays over his shoulder when the two of you studied together.

But he couldn’t have meant any of those words. Not when he left you like this. All of his promises of forever, wrapped up in a little piece of paper, they’d all been broken the second he left you on your own. Maybe he did mean what he’d written at some point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that. Not when you were here, heart still aching over the person you’d loved more than anything in the world. No, if he truly meant it he wouldn’t have left you here like this, broken and with no one to put you back together.

Besides, it was easier to accept that he’d never loved you at all than it was to believe he’d simply fallen out of love with you. It hurt less, especially when you still loved him more than your heart could take.

You panicked for a moment when you noticed your tears had fallen on the page, smudging the ink and blurring his beautiful handwriting. The words were barely legible anymore.

But you didn’t need to see them. You knew what it said. You’d read it over and over since the day he gave it to you until it was burned into your memory.

Now it was just another thing you wished you could forget.

You cursed under your breath and reached up to wipe your eyes again when you heard a noise drift in through your open window. A noise that sounded far too much like your name. Your head snapped over to Akaashi’s house, and you saw him. He stood outside of his front door, figure shadowed by the light coming from behind him.

Heart racing, you wiped your cheeks one last time and scrambled to shift your car into drive. But you didn’t move fast enough, and when you looked up Akaashi was standing right in front of your car, hands planted on the hood. Your headlights brightened him, a glow shining up the front of his body and accentuating every curve of his face as he stared at you through the windshield.

“Don’t,” was all he said, and the word had you putting your car back in park.

He moved around to your window and you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your head tipped back so you could look at him, and the way he was looking down at you made the shattered pieces of your heart feel like they were crunching under his boot.

You couldn’t see any love in his eyes, no tenderness, simply the same deadpan expression he gave almost everyone.

Everyone except the people he cared about.

He was the one to finally break the silence.

“You can’t keep coming around here.”

And the heel of his boot dug in, grinding the remainder of your heart to dust.

“I know,” you whispered, eyes wide and watery as you looked up at him.

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

You swallowed, shaking your head and wishing you could look away from him. But you couldn’t, his gaze froze you in place. “I don’t know.”

The corners of his lips turned down, barely changing his expression, but it made a pang shoot through your chest.

“I’m sorry. You have to go.”

You nodded, finally able to turn your head away and grip the steering wheel.

He dropped his gaze, and it landed on the paper that sat in your lap. His eyes widened.

“Y/N, I—”

“Bye, Akaashi,” you whispered, and you rolled up the window before he could say anything else. You put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, leaving behind Akaashi and the crumbled pieces of your heart, taking with you only a shell of yourself and the blurred words of his broken promises of forever.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x reader angst #akaashi x reader angst #keiji akaashi x reader #keiji akaashi x reader angst #my writing #I'll probably reblog this in the morning since it's so late now

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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The Notes

The Pool | The Difference | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only Warnings: Excessive fluff and explicit sexual content - oral sex, vaginal sex. Notes: On today’s episode of This Accidentally Became a Series! So anyway I’ve already completed a part to be posted some time this week after this and started writing another because I’m a Mess™? So. Summary: The first time you saw it, Borracho's neat handwriting had taken you aback a bit.

You're the last two in the office - for now. You know that Zapata will be by in a bit to finish up some paperwork that he's been swearing up and down that he'll get done but just keeps putting off. You're not in a crazy rush or anything. Your computer's system is updating, you've got nothing else you really can do right now, so you let your eyes... Wander. Borracho is hunched over a legal pad, scribbling something. His eyes will dart to his screen every few seconds, and then he's back down again, hair slicked back and shining in the fluorescent overheads.

Your computer screen lights up, progress bar at 100, then the monitor shuts itself down. You can't really dawdle much more, so you get up. "You goin'?" You glance over when you hear him ask it, and smile when you see him still scribbling away. "Uh huh," You confirm, grabbing your jacket and tugging it on, "You gonna be here long?" "A while." You pick up your bag before walking over to his desk. You see his lips twitch as you get closer, but he doesn't look away from his work. "What're you doing, sweetness?" He murmurs as you lean over his shoulder. "Looking at your notes," Is your innocent answer. The first time you saw it, Borracho's neat handwriting had taken you aback a bit. You'd asked for info on a case they'd been working, and he'd come over, legal pad in hand. You'd blinked down at it, and he'd asked you what was wrong. "No, nothing. Your handwriting is, like, freaky legible. Like it could be uploaded and turned into its own font." Borracho had just raised an eyebrow at you, but the guys had taken that for a ride - jokes about Borracho Bold, Borracho Italic, Times New Borracho in 12 point font. You'd considered calling out sick for the rest of the month. "Still 'freaky legible'?" Borracho asks you now, and you groan as he chuckles. "Shut up," You mutter. You watch him write for a few moments, listen to the steady scratch of pen on paper. "Don't stay here too late," You say finally. "Yes ma'am," he murmurs. You glance at the door before you turn your head, pecking his cheek. It's the most action the two of you have ever gotten in the office. He smiles up at you, and you shoot him a wink before heading out. -- Since you and Borracho have started dating, not just turning up at one another's apartment for Mutual Support Snuggle Sessions, it's been pretty rare that there's a night that you're not with one another. But for almost two weeks now, you've been on opposite schedules. And it's... driving you a little crazy. Connors took a bad fall during their last op and got a concussion, so he's on desk duty. The guys cover where they can, which keeps Borracho out of the office and away from you when you’re in. The two of you still text when you have a free moment, and you know he's alright, and that he's just as tired of this schedule as you are. Thing is, you've also been finding notes around your desk. The handwriting is unmistakable. He started leaving them a couple of days into your odd new schedule. You found a post-it stuck to your monitor that said, 'Forgot to turn this off. -B.' You'd pouted. You could've sworn you-- well, whatever. He'd shut it off for you. You'd shot him a thank-you text, and were about to throw the post out before you found yourself tucking it into the front cover of your notebook. The next one had been stuck on the full water bottle you'd left on your desk the day before that said, 'Drink me'. You'd snorted. You almost always forgot to drink water when you got caught up at work. Now and again throughout the day, you'd catch sight of the post-it and take a drink. At the end of the day, you tucked that one into the front cover of your notebook, too. You found a new one every day - on your monitor, in your notebook, on your desk, stuck to your spare bottle of hot sauce that you keep in the bottom drawer of your desk. They’re, ‘$5 says Henderson fails his piss test’, and, 'Don't forget to take a break, sweetness', and, ‘Missed your voice today’, and, ‘New bottle in my desk for when you run out, behind the Pepto’. You’ve got a tidy stack of fifteen notes from him by the time Connors is cleared for field duty and put back in the rotation. Borracho’s got the day off, so you know you’re not going to see him when you go in that morning. When you open your laptop, you smile at the note you find left stuck to your screen: ‘My place tonight?’ -- Maybe it’s because it’s been two weeks since you’ve been with him, but his hands feel so big. You lean up into his kisses as he presses you back against the door; he’s cupping your face and smoothing his thumbs over your cheekbones. You’ve always liked Borracho’s hands. You remember how calming they felt that night at Sutton’s apartment, when you were terrified, steering you through the throng, but keeping you close; the way his fingertips would always skim over your shoulder when you would first curl up on the couch - not a teasing touch, but just a light skim, almost like he was making sure you were still there, still solid, still real. And now, as one slides from your face to smooth over your throat and the other slips over your hip -- you press into his hands and sigh into his mouth, “Touch me.” You’ve missed him. You can’t remember the last time you felt this desperate for anyone. Another time, Borracho might tease you a little bit, but the way that his hand tightens around your hip tells you that he wants you just as badly. Borracho never says no to you. -- It’s not that he’s careful with you. It’s that he’s deliberate as he smooths his hands over your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. His lips follow his fingertips, soft and after his slightly rough touch. He takes his time, curling his hands around your hips as he eats your pussy. When you slip your hands down to settle over his, he takes hold of your wrists, and he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches when he does. When you’re on his knees for him, he runs his hands over your cheeks, over your neck. He still doesn’t talk much in bed. You didn’t expect that to change, but you can read him better now than you could the first time you were together. You still revel in the throaty moans and sighs that you can pull from him. But tonight, even as you’re mouthing his hip bone, and suckling the head of his cock, and taking him in your mouth, Borracho seems more determined to see what sounds he can pull from you. And when he’s fucking into you, he catches hold of your hands with his. He intertwines his fingers with yours, and he grins into your neck as you make the sweetest little whining noise, tightening up around him. And when his thrusts get a little harsher and he asks you so sweetly to cum for him, how could you possibly deny him? You never tell Borracho no. -- Borracho’s fingers massage your neck gently as you curl up against his side. You’ve taken hold of his other hand and you’re tracing your finger along the lines on his palm. “...Is it weird that I missed you?” You ask. He chuckles, thumb smoothing over your nape. “Not weird,” He promises, “I missed you, too. Missed seeing you in the office,” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “Missed waking up with you.” His hand slides down to your shoulder and he squeezes it gently. You tip your chin up and kiss his jaw. “The notes helped,” You admit softly. “Yeah?” You open your mouth a little wider and lightly bite at the hinge of his jaw before you hum, pressing kisses to the same spot. Borracho lets out a quiet growl, tightening his hand on the back of your neck. “Gotta give me a few more minutes,” he murmurs. But what he says and what he does are two very different things, because Borracho is pressing you onto your back again. He’s settling between your thighs and mouthing an already darkening mark on your collarbone. His hands slip up under your shoulders, and you smile, cuddling up against him. You run your fingers through his hair, tipping your head to the side and looking down at him. Borracho peers up at you from under his lashes and you smile at him. “Sweetness?” He murmurs against your skin. “Mm?” “What is it with you and my hands today, huh?” You tip your head back and laugh, but you’re embarrassed. “I don’t know! They’re all...Big and rough, and...I don’t know, it’s hot, fuckin’ sue me.” He raises a brow. One of his hands slides out from under your shoulders. He skims his fingers along your cheekbone, then over your lips. You kiss the pad of each one. Borracho’s eyes drift to your lips as you part them, letting your tongue tease over the pad of his fore and middle fingers. He dips them in and out of your mouth gently, presses them down against your tongue, groans when you slip your tongue between them to tease over the ridges of his knuckles and down to the vee between his fingers. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and teases the wetness over one of your pebbled nipples. Before you can sink into the feeling, the touch is trailed further down -- his fingers slick deftly over your clit and you groan, spreading your thighs a bit more as if that’ll hurry him along. It never does. It does earn you a throaty chuckle and a nip to your inner thigh as he ducks his head down. You’re going to be a babbling mess for him in a matter of minutes and it’s all because of those damn hands. -- When morning comes, you’re tired as hell, and you’re the best kind of sore. Borracho’s left your collarbone and chest mottled with hickeys that you’ll think about all day. He’s out of bed before you are - you both have work, but he’s got to be in earlier than you have. You drift into the kitchen, following the sounds of him puttering around and the smell of brewing coffee. You cuddle up against him at the counter, resting your head between his shoulder blades. “Sorry, sweetness, forgot your mug in the cabinet.” His voice is still a little gruff with disuse. You can’t even be mad; you’re not usually out of bed this early, but his side of the bed was cold. You grumble as you step over to the cabinet and open the door. You frown when you see something stuck to your usual mug. “Hey, babe, there’s something--...” You trail off as you un-stick the post-it. You read it over a couple of times before turning to look at Borracho. He’s watching you, calm, curious, taking a sip from his coffee. You hold the post-it up, raising a brow. “Really?” You ask softly. He nods. “If you want,” He murmurs. A grin breaks out across your face and you rush back across the kitchen to wrap your arms around Borracho - he’s set his mug aside as soon as he’s seen you coming - so you can cover his face with kisses as you mumble, “Yes, yes, yes.” He laughs, wrapping his arms around you and keeping you pressed against his chest. You lean away to get a good look at him. “You realize that this means you’ll have to start keeping food in the house.” “I think I can adjust,” He teases. You lean up, catching his lips in a gentle kiss. The post-it is still in your hand, the tacky line of adhesive clinging to your fingers - Borracho’s neat lettering spelling out, Move in with me?

#The Pool #The Notes #Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho/Reader #Benny Borracho/You #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader #Den of Thieves

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whatdyk · 4 years ago

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Home | Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: Returning home from New York, you find it difficult to settle back into the family life that you were once used to. Choosing to stay with your brother whilst you adjust, it’s not long until you run into the reason you left in the first place.

Warnings: 18+ Only, PWP, oral sex (f!receiving), Soft!Frankie, slight dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex.

"Santi?" You whispered, pressing open his front door and stepping into the dimly lit apartment. All was quiet as you closed and locked it behind you, but you knew that he wouldn't be in bed just yet.

Slipping off your heels and hanging up your coat, you silently passed through the living area and headed towards the kitchen where a small light was still shining. "Santi?" you repeated, eventually rounding the final corner. You heard him shuffling around in the cabinets, but there was no sign that he'd actually heard you call out his name.

"Hey," You then greeted again as his side profile came into view, causing him to snap his head in the direction of your voice. You watched as his brows furrowed together in confusion, his eyes still bleary from a lack of sleep.

"What the hell are you doing here so late?!" he eventually snapped, moving to check the time on his watch, "You could have given me a heart attack, niña!"

You looked towards him with a sheepish smile, unable to maintain his intense gaze for too long. Reaching out to grab the empty glass set on the counter beside you, you rounded the island to grab some water.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, voice barely legible, "I just...I didn't want to go back home by myself." As you finished, you took a long sip and cringed at how pathetic you sounded.

You already knew that your brother didn't need any more stress in his life, let alone a sister who could barely stay in her own home by herself. Though, as you lost yourself in your own sense of self-pity, you completely missed the way Santi moved through the kitchen to envelop you in a tight hug. It was so warm and familiar, causing you to instantly wrap your arms around his waist and allowing yourself to be pulled deeper into his chest.

Moments passed as you both stood there in silence, Santiago comfortably resting his chin on your head whilst you quietly sniffled into his sweater. "What happened?" He eventually broke the silence, pulling away slightly so he could see the reaction on your face.

You huffed to yourself and wiped a stray tear from your cheek, ignoring his serious stare, "Nothing, I promise." you answered, "It's just...different. Being on my own here, I'm not sure if I can do it."

Admitting those dreaded words, you felt as your eyes began to line with more unshed tears. It had only been 3 months since you'd moved back to San Antonio, abandoning the 'life' that you had built for yourself back in New York. At the time, it was all that you could have ever wanted, living independently and away from your family. Though, looking back at it now, you finally understood just how wrong you'd been.

Those few years there had been some of the loneliest of your life, almost working yourself to death to avoid feeling the gaping hole in your chest. You had missed your brother and his friends the most, the unrelated family that had treated you as one of their own since the first moment you met.

Carefully observing your expression, Santi moved to place a calloused hand on your cheek, cupping the skin there and wiping away another small tear, "I know it's hard, Hermana," he whispered, "But we're all here for you. You can stay with me for as long as you need, you know that, right?"

Smiling lightly, you nodded your head against his palm, "Of course, Santi. Thank you."

Returning your soft expression, he placed a gentle peck to your forehead, "Then let's get you to bed, sí? I'm exhausted."

Carrying your glass of water, you silently followed behind your brother as he made his way to the spare room. What was once his office had now slowly started to turn into a private space for you, with a small bed and a lot of comforts. He did have an actual spare room, but when you initially started to stay over, you'd insisted that you take his office instead. His old army memorabilia and items from your childhood brought you enough comfort to allow you to sleep peacefully. Though, you had never told him that that was the reason behind it.

"Will you be alright on your own?" He then turned to ask, opening the door for you and allowing you to enter.

"Of course," you smiled back at him, "you've done more than enough for me. Thank you." Offering you another tired smile, he nodded his head and made his own way back to his bedroom.

Staying to listen for just a little while longer, you heard as the rest of the lights were turned off and his door finally closed. Moving to shut your own, you stripped yourself from your uncomfortable clothing and tossed on an old baggy shirt. Making yourself comfortable on the small futon, you felt yourself drifting into a night of safe and peaceful sleep.

---------------------------------------------

2 hours.

2 hours of peaceful rest were all you were able to manage before you startled awake yet again. It wasn't the same dream as usual, but it was enough to set your heart on edge for the rest of the night.

Slowly, you moved to reach your phone from where you'd left it on the floor, squinting as your eyes were assaulted by the bright light. 3:42 am. Great.

Leaning back and tossing it to the other side of the bed, you released a heavy breath as your mind began to swim. You already knew that you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep now. So, against your better judgment, you stood from the futon and padded towards the door, hoping that Santi still kept his favourite snacks just above the fridge.

Passing silently through the hall, you were overwhelmingly thankful that you'd finally learned to navigate Santiago's apartment in the dark, even knowing which floorboards would creak and wake him up. You made it to the kitchen flawlessly, reaching up towards the hidden treats before you heard something coming from the rear of his apartment.

To you, that 'something' sounded like footsteps clearly not knowing where to stand.

Turning your head back towards the hall, you moved cautiously to where Santi kept his knives, already knowing that this wasn't the sound of your brother. Attempting to keep your breathing steady, you winced as the lights to the lounge were eventually flicked on, revealing the face of the late-night intruder.

"Frankie?" You mumbled, confusion and surprise evident in your tone. You watched on in amusement as his figure stiffened, slowly turning to face you with a wide-eyed expression. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came as he stood there and gaped.

"What are you doing here?" you prompted, stepping away from the kitchen counter, "you almost scared me to death!"

He finally laughed at that, the look of shock now fading from his face, "I've been staying here for a few days," he told you, "I'm sorry, I had no idea that you were here." You nodded your head towards him, smiling. "I'm sorry," he then continued, "If I'd have known, I would have stayed in the spare room-"

"No, please," you interrupted gently, "It's fine, I promise, Santi didn't even know I was coming until I turned up a few hours ago." you paused, "It's good to see you again, though."

"You too," he smiled, stepping closer to the kitchen, "It's been a while."

You looked down towards your hands, cleaning the non-existent dirt from underneath your fingernails. It had been a while since you'd last seen Frankie, but it seemed as if he was still able to turn your brain to mush whenever he was around. Back then, you'd never admitted your true feelings for him, though you were sure that he'd started to catch on before you moved away.

"It has," you responded quietly, "H-how have you been?" You asked, cursing yourself as you tripped over the words. You did your best to avoid his gaze, knowing that he was already watching you intently.

"Good." he responded, admiring you in the dim light of the room. Though, the minutes soon began to pass before either of you spoke again.

"Do- do you think you'd like to talk in the spare room?" He then asked hesitantly, "Y-you don't have to, it's just- I know Santi is a pain when he gets woken up" he laughed, moving to run a firm hand through his soft curls.

You felt as your stomach dropped at the offer, a not-unfamiliar warmth spreading to settle between your thighs. "Sure," you smiled back, the words escaping your mouth before you could even begin to think it through.

With a small nod of his head, you began to follow Frankie's quiet footsteps back through the apartment, your search for snacks long forgotten. Though, you had to take a few subtle breathes before you could enter the room, needing to will yourself to calm down even just a little.

"So," He eventually said, patting the space on the bed next to him, "Tell me about you, how was New York? I was...surprised to hear that you came back when Santi first told me."

You sat next to him on the bed and bounced as the mattress dipped, considering his question carefully. You should have known it was coming; you should've been surprised that he hadn't asked you already. Though, how could you tell your closest friend that you had to leave because of him? And that subsequently, you came back 4 years later because you'd been so miserable on your own?

It took a few seconds to find the courage, but when you did, you were finally able to take his hand in yours and meet those warm, brown eyes of his. "I'm sorry, Frankie," you mumbled, the sound of your voice barely above a whisper, "I thought that- that it would make things easier."

You watched as the space between his brows became creased, his lips tensing into a thin line. "Did it?" he eventually asked, "Did it help?" Thankfully, there was no malice in the question, just genuine concern and sincerity.

You shook your head slowly, directing your gaze back towards the ground. As a warm and comforting hand found the small of your back, you had to resist the urge to move closer to the man sat next to you.

"I missed you" His soft voice broke the silence, "I missed you so much, dulce niña."

At that, your eyes found his almost instantly, discovering that he was already watching you with a soft expression. His hand trailed up the slope of your spine, gently moving to cradle your face as his other hand cupped your cheek.

As your breath hitched, you noticed how close your bodies were, his face just mere inches from yours. "You did?" You asked quietly, a tone of disbelief echoing in your voice.

He nodded his head and smiled, inadvertently showing you the tears that had began to gather in his eyes, "Of course." he cooed, his lips now ghosting against your own. The assurance in his reply made your heart sing, providing the final push that you needed to finally close the gap between you.

As your lips met, you couldn't help the small moan of pleasure that escaped your throat, losing yourself instantly in his soft touch. His lips were so gentle against yours, absorbing your every thought as his tongue began to explore your mouth. Your hands brought him closer, kissing him deeper and looping your arms around his neck. When you finally broke apart, the silence of the room was disturbed by the sounds of heavy breathing, both of your chests moving in sync.

"I missed you so much, Frankie" You then repeated his earlier sentiment, moving to straddle his firm thighs as his grip remained tight on your waist, "I'm so, so sorry"

He chuckled breathlessly against you, "Please, mi Cielo, no more apologies. Not when I finally get to have you in my arms."

The grin that decorated your face was surely blinding as you looked down at him, cupping his cheeks and running your fingers through the soft scruff that lived there. You caught him by surprise when your lips found his again, your mouth opening to swallow his stifled moans.

Your tongue moved in perfect tandem with his when his hands started to move, grinding your hips down against his hardening length. He gasped into you when your exposed core sat directly on top of his cock, not realising that you hadn't been wearing anything under your sleep-shirt.

You giggled and leaned back, fingers moving to play with the hem of the offending garment. "Are you sure?" He whispered against the sensitive skin of your neck, "Do you want this?"

You nodded your head against him, "More than anything." you said simply, lifting your arms to remove the shirt.

You couldn't help the small blush that warmed your cheeks as he so-clearly observed your body, his eyes roaming across your exposed chest and hands moving to gently caress your waist and thighs. "So beautiful," he whispered almost to himself, "Perfect." His warm lips then met your shoulder, your eyes instinctively fluttering shut as your head tilted to the side.

Eagerly, you arched your back into his touch, your hands finding the back of his neck and curling into the loose curls that lived there. His own fingers continued to wander, feeling the soft flesh of your hips and trailing small circles as you began to grind against him. Feeling the arousal between your legs, you were helpless to resist the moans of pleasure that escaped your mouth, relishing each time the tip of his still-covered cock notched at your clit.

"Fuck-" you heard him swear beneath his breath, "I need you, preciosa..."

Almost in an instant, the world began to rotate around you. You were almost too dazed to realise that he stood to turn, carrying you around his waist before laying you back down on the bed below.

Settling above, he moved slowly to map out the curves of your body, working to remove the clothes that were preventing him from feeling all of you. As he moved, you pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek, feeling his length through the soft material of his underwear. Dipping your hand carefully below the waistband, he groaned when you stroked his cock with a gentle touch, applying the slightest pressure and causing him to twitch in your hand.

Ridding himself of the final item of clothing, he moved to completely cover you, spreading your already-parted legs as his lust-blown eyes met yours. "Touch me, Frankie" you whimpered against him, feeling the wetness between your legs grow, "I need to feel you"

"Yeah?" He asked against the softness of your lips, "Are you going to let me taste you, bonita?"

You nodded your head fervently, a pathetic whine sounding from your chest, "Please, Frankie."

You keened as you felt his fingers reach the apex of your thighs, caressing the soft and sensitive skin. Already parted for him, he ran his fingertips through your soaking wet heat, almost growling as he realised just how painfully turned on you were.

You gasped as his fingers lightly passed over your clit, "All of this for me, pretty girl?" he asked, dipping a finger slightly into your entrance, "You're dripping."

"For you," you mumbled, closing your eyes once more, "always for you."

At that, Frankie was moving his hand away from you as he settled between your legs, his warm breath heating your thighs and scruffy facial hair tickling the soft skin. One of your hands instinctively entwined with his, your knuckles surely turning white as he flattened his tongue against your already-soaked folds.

You felt the deep reverberations as he hummed against you, moaning at your sweet taste as he began to explore your cunt with his tongue. He started with small circles against your clit, teasing your entrance with a thick finger as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

"Fuck-" You rasped above him, "You feel so good, Frankie - you're so good."

He keened at the praise and added a second finger, pumping them and stretching you open as he sucked your clit into his mouth. You couldn't help but gasp at the new sensation, your heart racing beneath your chest as an overwhelming heat began to spread throughout your limbs.

"Are you going to cum for me?" He then asked against you, his fingers moving and curling against that spot inside of you. You didn't have the ability to answer him, now only able to nod your head against the cushion below.

You could feel the smile pressed again your cunt, his tongue relentless as he pushed your further towards your peak, "cum for me preciosa, cum all over my tongue."

The quiet sound of his rasped instruction pushed you from the edge, your lower body tensing and fighting to get away from his tortuous touch. You shook, opening your mouth in a silent scream as white overtook your vision. In the background, you're sure that you heard his voice, but the blood rushing behind your eardrums was almost deafening.

"So good to me," he finally mumbled, moving to rest his forehead against your shoulder, "you look so pretty when you cum." You could barely whine against him in response, pressing your face firmly into the crook of his neck as he continued to hold you.

"Please..." you were eventually able to moan, "I need to feel you inside of me."

"Yeah?" he replied, "Need me to fill you up?"

You answered him in the form of a kiss, desperately pressing your mouth against his as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt as his cock twitched against your folds, the heavy length resting against you and collecting your slick.

His lips never left you as he aligned himself, pushing slowly inside and stretching your eager pussy. His girth was almost overwhelming as his hips eventually met yours, filling you completely.

"Fuck-" he breathed against you, "Y-you're so tight...squeezing me so well" His voice sounded strained as he began to thrust into your heat, losing himself in your soaked pussy.

Your fingers grasped at his broad shoulders at that, his strokes increasing and reaching a spot so deep inside of you that you were sure that it had never been touched before, "P-please...don't stop, Frankie" you whined against him, pressing your mouth to the corded muscles of his neck.

Your ears were assaulted by the sound of smacking skin, both of your moans merging as he continued to fuck you into the mattress. Roughly, he grabbed your thighs and pushed them against your chest, causing you to cry out at the swift change of angle. His deep thrusts were pushing the remaining air out of your lungs, his firm grip on your thighs surely leaving bruises as pounded into you.

"H-Hermosa" he breathed suddenly, "I-I'm not going to last much longer."

You gasped against him and leaned forward to fuse your mouth to his, feeling as his cock buried itself impossibly deep inside of you. Your legs tightened around his waist, the familiar waves of heat beginning to overwhelm your senses as you tried not to scream his name.

He was impossibly close, feeling as your cunt began to tighten around him and milk his cock, "Inside-" you whined against his cheek, "I-I'm safe...cum inside me, please" It was all that you could manage before you came again, your entire body tensing around him as his movements began to falter.

He pressed himself close, holding himself there as his cock began to pulse inside of you. Moving to meet him, you pressed yourself back and watched as his head dropped between his shoulders, grinding against him as he unloaded everything he could.

"fuck-" he breathed against you, eventually lowering himself to lay on your body, "that was-"

"Amazing." You finished for him, gently stroking his back whilst your fingers tangled into his hair.

Remaining firmly lodged inside of you, he closed his eyes and rested his head against your chest, listening to the thumping sound of your heart. His body was a comforting weight as you began to shift beneath him, adjusting so you could finally see those bright, brown eyes of his.

"Frankie?" You whispered lowly, almost laughing at the dopey smile that met you.

"Mmm?"

"I missed you."

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #smut #Pedro Pascal #Pedro pascal character fan fiction

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flowerfan2 · 4 years ago

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Part of You Indefinitely

Yes, I’ve found my way into the Schitt’s Creek fandom - it’s a lovely, hopeful place to be. And of course, having met these wonderful people, I need to throw some angst and h/c their way. Please enjoy this, the first chapter of my whump!Patrick fic.

Thanks as always to my beta @perryavenue for coming along with me to yet another fandom :)

David/Patrick, M, A03 (tags/warnings this chapter: injury, hospitalization, loss of consciousness, blood (minor))

Chapter 1

David is arranging a new shipment of lavender sage lip balms by the cash register – he’s not sure they will sell as well as the honey vanilla but they are definitely more interesting – when he hears the crash.

He grumbles again at Patrick’s insistence on spending their Sunday morning at the store when they could have just as easily slept in another few hours, and ambles to the backroom to see what happened. It’s the last calm thought he processes.

There are wires hanging from a ceiling light fixture, a step ladder tilted at an angle against the shelves, and Patrick, lying on the floor, oddly twitching. David crashes to his knees, hands flying to Patrick’s head, as words flow out of his mouth in a panicked stream. “Patrick – Patrick- are you okay? Patrick-”

Patrick is still breathing, David can feel his breath on his cheek when he presses his face close, but he’s not responding. David’s hands are fluttering up and down Patrick’s body, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong. He tries to hold Patrick’s head steady as his husband’s muscles continue to spasm. “Patrick, wake up. Please, come on, please, Patrick.”

David can feel something warm and wet in Patrick’s hair, and he faintly realizes that Patrick is bleeding. “Oh my god, Patrick, open your eyes, please.” He fumbles his phone out of his pocket and calls emergency services, one hand resting on Patrick’s head, trembling so hard he can only hope the operator can understand what he’s saying.

Something in his brain finally connects the wires still swinging above him with Patrick unconscious on the floor and his breath leaves him in a horrified gasp. “Send help now, right now. I think my husband has been electrocuted.”

*****

It’s David’s first time riding in an ambulance while he is sober enough to remember it, and it’s terrifying. He can’t wish for anything to dull his senses right now, though, because he needs to be here for Patrick. He needs to get a grip, to stay strong, to not fall apart like he absolutely thinks he’s about to do, because Patrick needs him to keep it together.

The EMTs don’t offer much information, and the ride to the hospital in Elmdale is a nightmare of spiraling anxiety. David feels like his chest is going to implode, the only thing keeping him from losing it completely is his hand on Patrick’s ankle, his arm stretched out to touch him in the only place he can reach.

He wants to say something, to do something, but his voice seems to have abandoned him. Finally, the questions in his head break through. “Is he going to be okay?”

He barely hears the noncommittal answer. Patrick has to be okay. Their story can’t end here. They haven’t even been married a year. David has plans for their one-year wedding anniversary, only a few months away. He’s going to take Patrick on a hike. He’s going to do it right, make up for how David almost ruined Patrick’s proposal with his grumpy mood. He’s not going to complain, and Patrick’s not going to get stabbed in the foot with a branch. David is going to pack a picnic, with Patrick’s favorite foods this time, and serenade him at sunset - or maybe not quite sunset, because hiking back down in the dark seems like a bad idea, but he still has time to figure that out. They still have time, they are supposed to have time. Lots of time.

David’s come far enough to believe that he’s pretty good at making Patrick happy, and at letting himself be happy, but there’s so much more he wants to do.

So many more smiles he needs to see on Patrick’s face.

There’s a rush of activity as they arrive at the hospital, and David has to let go of Patrick’s ankle, even the loss of that small connection paining him. “I’ll be right here,” he says, although Patrick can’t hear him, and no one is listening. “I’ll be here.”

*****

David is pacing in the waiting room. He has already filled out the necessary forms, his handwriting barely legible since he’s still shaking all over, and now there is nothing to do but wait. He knows he should probably call someone and let them know what’s going on, but Patrick’s parents are on an Alaskan cruise, and his own parents are in Fiji. Stevie’s in New York for a conference, and Alexis is in L.A. He’s got to handle this on his own.

David used to be good at handling crises. He prided himself on it. Even when he was at the height of his drug happy party boy phase, he was always able to make a call to the right consulate and get Alexis sprung from whatever ridiculous situation she had wound up in. He could act the part of a confident, competent savior, equipped with enough money and pull to get things done. But things are different now. Patrick has changed him, has cut right through all the walls he built to protect himself. His defenses are gone. And now this panicking, flailing, frightened man is all Patrick has left.

It seems like forever but finally a doctor comes out to talk with him. Patrick is stable, but still unconscious. Apparently he is more impaired than would be expected from a minor electric shock, because he hit his head when he fell. Tests are being run.

David takes a step towards the doctor as his vision narrows, and someone is there next to him, a hand on his arm. “Would you like to sit down?” He doesn’t seem to have any choice, as he’s pushed into a chair, and a moment later handed a cup of water.

David takes a sip, then shakes his head, squeezing his eyes together and forcing himself to take a deep breath. “When can I see him? Can I see him, please?”

Not yet, they tell him. Soon. They’ll let him know.

*****

<i>Four hours earlier</i>

David wakes to the feel of his husband’s lips on his own, and he hums and wraps a hand around Patrick’s head and holds him close. But instead of finding a sleep-warm, enticingly aroused and naked Patrick shuffling closer to him under the sheets, he opens his eyes to see Patrick sitting on the edge of the bed, already showered, a towel around his waist.

“Mmm, no, come back to bed.”

“Can’t do that. We’re going to the store early, remember?”

David groans and flops over, pulling the duvet over his head. “I don’t want to.”

“But we said we’d do it, and if we don’t, our lovely shelves will be empty on one of our best selling days of the week.”

David doesn’t really care to remember this fact, although it’s true. Thursday afternoon he and Patrick had gotten into a disagreement about whether to keep sourcing peppermint foot cream from a particular vendor, and by the time David shut his mouth long enough to figure out why Patrick had developed a sudden aversion to Mr. Braden (he was unforgivably rude to their intern), some rather less than pleasant things had been said by David, too. David suggested he make it up to Patrick by trading their regular Thursday evening at the store doing inventory and stocking shelves for an impromptu date night, and Patrick had agreed, on the condition that they come in early on Sunday instead.

“I’d like to suggest an amendment to our agreement,” David says, sitting up and slinging both arms around Patrick’s neck, loving the smile it brings to his husband’s face. “Come back to bed for just a little while, and I’ll put all the labels on the body milk bottles myself.” Patrick doesn’t like sticking labels on the bottles, he says the adhesive makes his fingertips itch.

“We’ll be late,” Patrick objects, but he’s already relaxing into David’s arms.

David knows Patrick’s protest is mostly for show. He runs his tongue up the side of Patrick’s neck, inhaling the smell of his warm, damp skin. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Patrick caves, attacking David’s mouth in a hungry kiss, as they both fall back onto the bed. “You always do.”

*****

It seems like forever, but finally someone comes and tells him that he can see Patrick. They lead David down hallways and around corners and finally into a room. He goes past an empty bed and a partly pushed back curtain and then he’s there, staring helplessly at his husband, laid out unnaturally where he absolutely does not belong.

All the tropes are true, David thinks to himself. Patrick looks small, diminished by the machines and the wires and the strangeness of the setting. He’s lying flat on his back, which is just wrong – Patrick sleeps on his side, his knees always bent, body twisted around a pillow or the sheets or, when at all possible, David. He says it’s because he doesn’t breathe well lying on his back, but David knows he likes the comfort of it, of being surrounded and held. David likes it too.

They’re a good pair, right for each other in all the most important ways. David swallows hard and moves closer to this fragile version of his beloved husband. <i>Patrick has to be okay.</i>

“Here, sit down,” the nurse at his side says, sliding a chair closer to the bed. “You can touch him.”

David sits down, stiffly, and hovers his hand near Patrick’s.

“You won’t hurt him.” The nurse is looking at Patrick’s chart, and then back to David. “He hit his head pretty hard, but there’s no sign of any other injuries.”

“Is he… is he in pain?” David thought Patrick was still unconscious.

“No, he shouldn’t be,” she says. “But we’ll ask him when he wakes up, and go from there.”

David bites his lip, and forces the words out. “He’s going to wake up, isn’t he?”

The nurse puts her hand on his arm, and David forces himself not to flinch. “There’s nothing to be gained by not staying positive,” she says patronizingly, patting him twice and then, mercifully, leaving the room.

David indulges in a moment of fury, imagining himself storming out of the room and demanding to speak to a doctor, throwing a Moira Rose-style tantrum until someone gives him better customer service, but then he sees Patrick’s hand twitch and all thoughts of histrionics disappear.

“Patrick?” David takes his husband’s hand and squeezes it. “Patrick, are you awake?” He reaches over and runs a finger along Patrick’s cheek. “I’m right here. Open your eyes, baby, look at me.”

Shaking, he leans close and presses a kiss to Patrick’s dry lips, and then another. But there’s no response, no Sleeping Beauty moment of grateful awareness. David takes in a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, and sits back up.

“It’s okay,” he says, scooting the chair closer so that he can rest his elbows on the bed and hold Patrick’s free hand in both of his own. “You don’t have to wake up yet. You can sleep some more if you need to. Rest all you want. Heal that beautiful head. I’ll be here when you wake up, Patrick. I’ll be right here.”

*****

A doctor comes by a little while later, and tells David what he’s pretty much figured out on his own – they can’t say when Patrick will wake up. So far, they don’t have any reason to believe he won’t, which is good, as far as it goes. It’s not very precise, but Patrick suffered a head injury along with some level of electric shock, so they have to wait and see. They’ll run some more tests tomorrow if there’s no change, but they are “cautiously optimistic,” whatever that means.

After the doctor leaves David makes the mistake of googling “traumatic head injury.” He reads for a few minutes and then practically throws his phone across the room, watching as it slides across the linoleum floor and comes to a stop by the IV stand. He’s historically not very good at looking on the bright side, but he refuses to entertain the possibility that Patrick is going to be permanently disabled from his attempt to make the backroom overhead light stop flickering.

He leans down against the bed, resting his forehead against Patrick’s shoulder, his hand still wrapped in his own. He can feel the panic rising in his chest again, and he fights it, not wanting to be any more useless to Patrick than he already is.

“Hey, I know I said you could rest, but maybe just wake up for a minute?” he says softly into Patrick’s ear. “Just squeeze my hand, or blink your eyes. Can you do that for me?” He waits, not really expecting a reaction, but it doesn’t seem fair to ask for something and then not wait for an answer. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here, okay? Even if you’re hurt, even if…” David can’t really put into words what it might be like if Patrick doesn’t recover. “No matter what happens, we’ll get through it together. Just come back to me, okay? I can’t… I won’t make it if you don’t. I need you.”

“David.”

David looks up to see Alexis standing by the foot of Patrick’s bed, looking almost as pale as Patrick. Then she moves closer and folds David into a tight hug, squeezing him until he can hardly breathe. It’s the safest he’s felt since he heard the crash in the back room.

After a few minutes of Alexis’s pointy chin digging into his shoulder, David eases himself back. “Maybe give arm day a rest,” he says softly, as she loosens her boa-constrictor hold around his waist.

“Everyone always says I’m stronger than I look,” Alexis says, tilting her head as she gazes at him. “And you are too, David.”

He shrugs and glances away, his gaze inevitably going to Patrick, still just as quiet and unresponsive as he was a moment ago, and then back to his sister. “How are you here?” he asks, not wanting to dwell on the topic of his questionable ability to handle this particular situation. “I thought you were in L.A.”

“That was last week.” Alexis drops her bag to the floor, then drags a chair around from the other side of the curtain and positions it next to David’s. “I was in Toronto, working with a new client, when Jocelyn called me.”

David blinks. “Jocelyn?”

“Yes, David, Jocelyn called me, when you didn’t answer your phone – and so did Twyla, Roland, Ronnie, and everyone else.” She waves her hand, apparently to indicate the universe of people blowing up her phone.

“But… why?”

“David, did you really think that an ambulance could show up in the middle of town and whisk you and Patrick away without anyone noticing?” Alexis boops his nose and looks from Patrick back to David. “They’re worried about you. Half of the town is in the waiting room right now.”

“Wait, what?”

Alexis lets a smile tug at the side of her mouth. “Kidding, no they’re not. But they’ll come, if we need them. Twyla did drop off some food, it’s in my bag. Muffins, or something, she said you didn’t even come get one this morning. And sandwiches.” Alexis reaches down and pulls out a bag.

“I’m not hungry,” David says.

“Yeah, because you and skipping meals is a good idea.”

“I’ve had other things to worry about,” David says, his voice cracking.

“I know, David,” Alexis says softly. “But you have to take care of yourself too. And then we can take care of Patrick.”

It’s what breaks him, finally, that “we,” and David loses it, sobbing in Alexis’s arms at the side of his husband’s hospital bed.

#schitt's creek #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #Schitt's Creek fic #Alexis Rose #Hurt/Comfort

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set-phasers-to-whump · 5 years ago

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“I’m fine”

fandom: white collar

whumpee: neal caffrey

for whumpmas in July day 27: “I’m fine”. hope this is ok!!

“I’m fine, Peter,” Neal insisted, for what he thought must have been the thousandth time that day. Ever since he’d foolishly complained that his head hurt a little that morning, Peter had been breathing down his neck even more than usual, asking him if he felt okay, as though he expected Neal to flat out collapse at any minute. It was exhausting-it was barely noon, and Neal was already feeling far too tired by Peter’s constant questioning.

Peter responded to Neal’s insistence by raising his eyebrows, asking the silent question of, really?

Neal replied with a slightly too vigorous nod, which caused his head to throb. He didn’t wince at the pain, though, just stepped out of the Taurus, slamming the door behind him and flipping his hat onto his head. He had a job to do, and he wasn’t about to let a little headache stop him.

He spent the next hour and a half having lunch with Roland Summers, an extremely wealthy businessman who was suspected of insider trading. He was a bland man, Neal thought, considering how much money he had. All he wanted to talk about was golf, and the stock exchange. Neal didn’t get the chance to bring up art even once.

Still, he couldn’t deny that the lunch had been good-or, it would have been good, if he’d wanted to eat it. It looked absolutely divine, and from the price tag surely must have tasted that way, but it had taken all of Neal’s willpower to force down the meal without gagging.

Apart from that one slightly strange thing, however, everything went smoothly. Neal got Roland to reveal some damning information which he knew would prove invaluable in the case against him, not to mention he’d learned more than he’d ever cared to learn about the sport of golf. All in all, a success, Neal thought, smiling to himself as he left his lunch to rendezvous with Peter a few blocks away.

A few blocks...which felt like a hundred, as Neal slowly made his way down the sidewalk, trying not to waver on his feet. He was sick, he knew, but it was probably just a cold, and he’d done his job well regardless. Maybe well enough that Peter would send him home early…

What felt like hours later, Neal arrived back at the car. He slumped into the passenger seat, shutting the door slowly behind him.

“Nice work,” Peter said, as he pulled out into the street. “We’ll move on him tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Neal said in response, lacking the energy to say anything more.

They reached a stoplight, and Peter finally turned to look at his CI. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, reaching out a hand to touch Neal’s forehead.

Neal swatted the hand away. “I already said I’m fine,” he said, a bit more snappishly than he’d meant to. “Sorry,” he added.

Peter shook his head as the light turned green. “You’d tell me if you felt sick, right?”

“Sure.”

The remainder of the ride back was silent. Neal has wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, but then Peter would ask him why, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to come up with an answer, so he forced them to stay open. Every minute that passed felt like the temperature in the car dropped a degree, and Neal had taken to staring intently at the dashboard in an effort to stop the sudden onslaught of dizziness which happened whenever he looked out the window.

An eternity later, Neal was sitting at his desk, trying-and failing-to fill out some paperwork that Peter had given him regarding this latest undercover assignment. He tried to focus, really, but the words seemed to swim across the page, and his hands were shaking too badly to write anything legibly.

He’d nearly dozed off when something slapped down onto the desk next to him. He jolted up in his seat, looking frantically around for a second before he saw the offending stack of papers.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Peter said, looking at him quizzically. “When you’re done with your report, I need you to look through these.”

Neal nodded, having processed exactly none of what Peter had just said. “Got it,” he replied, hoping that response would suffice.

It did, luckily, and Peter wandered back to his own office, leaving Neal to slump bonelessly across the new papers. Just a few minutes, he thought to himself, and then I’ll get to work.

“Caffrey! I need you in my office!”

Neal slowly lifted his head, brushing off a piece of paper that stuck to his sweaty cheek. Weird, he thought, sure that he’d been freezing earlier, before he’d fallen asleep. He stood up, blinking hard against a rush of dizziness as he did so.

He made his way up to Peter’s office painfully slowly, trying his best not to stop and catch his breath or brace himself against another wave of dizziness.

Finally, he reached the door, stepped inside, closed it behind him...and then everything went fuzzy, and then it went dark.

—-

Neal woke to something cool on his forehead, and something soft surrounding him. Not work, his mind supplied for him. But he’d been at work...where was he now?

He opened his eyes cautiously, looking around at what he could see without lifting his still-achy head. He recognized his surroundings immediately-he was on the couch, in the Burke’s living room. How he’d gotten there, he had no idea.

“P’ter?” he called out, grimacing as he was made aware of his painfully dry throat.

Peter’s face appeared above him. “You’re up, that’s good,” he said, helping Neal sit up against the arm of the couch, removing a cloth from his forehead. “How do you feel? And you cannot say you’re fine.”

“Kinda bad, honestly,” Neal admitted. “Head hurts. Thirsty. Kinda hot, too.”

Peter nodded, handing him a glass of water from the side table and a couple Tylenol. “You’ve got a pretty bad fever. It’s gone down some from when you passed out in my office, but you’re definitely still feeling it.”

Neal took the pills, drank most of the water, and then nearly choked on it when he fully processed what Peter had said-“I passed out in your office?”

“Yeah, you did,” Peter said, his voice more serious than Neal had expected. “Just collapsed to the floor, burning up, after insisting to me all day that you were perfectly fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Neal said, staring at the floor.

“I know,” Peter replied, “and I need to know you’re not going to pull something like that again. You feel sick, you tell me. You do not pass out on the floor of my office.”

“Okay,” Neal said, feeling chastised. “No more ‘I’m fine.’”

“Good. Now you keep resting. I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need me. El will be home soon, and in about an hour you can join us for dinner, if you feel up to it.”

“I’ll do that,” Neal promised, lying back down and closing his eyes. “And Peter,” he added, as the agent turned to head back into the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Peter smiled. “Anytime, kid.”

thanks so much for reading this!!!!! I hope you liked it!

#whumpmasinjuly #white collar #neal caffrey #my writing #i say things #sick #fever #collapse #hope this didnt suck!!#thx for reading ily #ok what the fuck? i was looking back thru my wc tag and the first two paragorahs and the read more are?? gone??#but they show up when i click edit?? wtf

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robotslenderman · 4 years ago

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How Rowan/Rose met Ilias

Oof so I had some headcanon on how Rowan (AKA Rose) (I’ve been fiddling with her, sorry, hence the messing around with the name) ran into Ilias

and that was BEFORE I found out who Ilias USED TO BE INVOLVED WITH HOLY SHIT and now this encounter looks a whole lot more terrifying yikes.

But here it is -- what happened to Rowan after leaving the Tremere, and how she ran into Ilias and started crushing on him.

So -- Rowan was the name of the Tremere whose identity my Salubri took on when she went to the New World. Obviously, that identity’s last name is not Elensdottir, but I had to differentiate her from ESO!Rowan as they’ve become two entirely different characters. After a while Rowan was tired of lying to herself about her ability to one day bring back the Salubri, and had learned -- she felt -- everything she could learn with the Tremere without risking exposure by using her abilities.

So she left. She wrote a letter to Strauss and left it in her room in the Chantry, telling him the truth of who she was and what she’d uncovered about her clan in the process of being with the Tremere, and left it behind. She wasn’t going to risk telling him in person. She hoped that maybe Strauss wouldn’t bear her such ill-will he’d kill her on sight, and that maybe she’d plant a little seed of doubt regarding the reputation of the Salubri in his mind...

... but she didn’t hold her breath. And that was why she left a letter instead of telling him in person.

Once she’d vanished from LA, she took on the name Rose d’Eleanor. Rose was the name she was born with, and d’Eleanor was in honour of her mother, with whom she’d been very close -- “of Eleanor.” She traveled around using various names and posing as a different clan here and there, but as a Salubri she was always Rose.

It was good to be Rose again.

(I like to think she met Matthew from Beckett’s Jyhad Diary. That they’d met at Castle Hunedoara, or however you spell it, and both had survived and promised to meet again. The first other Salubri she ever met, well over a century after her own Embrace. I like to think they were brother and sister.)

She traveled. She didn’t want to stay in one place too long in case she got revealed or had trouble maintaining an identity. Travel was very hard, since she couldn’t use Disciplines around other Kindred, money was very difficult to come by, and she couldn’t exactly use Protean like Elisa did whenever the sun was getting awful close to rising. She had a much harder time than Elisa did, and she had many mornings where she regretted leaving the Chantry at all and wishing she’d just kept on lying to her friends and family there because it’d mean shelter and relative safety.

But she’d burned that bridge by telling them what she was, so she couldn’t go back.

In New York she heard about Elias Athanasios’s collection of art and historical artefacts.

She didn’t have an invitation, so she broke in.

She used what Tremere magic she knew and broke into the gallery one night when it was closed to other Kindred, and used that blood magic to get around the wards.

Not all of them. Only the ones she knew how to find. Ilias noticed there was an intruder immediately and found her. I mean, dude’s nine hundred years old, he probably has a shitton of tricks Rose has never even heard of.

Now, Rose immediately went oh SHIT because she’d tried so hard to avoid pissing off other Kindred, and she just got caught by the gallery’s fucking owner no less, breaking into his gallery. Expecting her ass to get curbstomped, she stutters her apologies and promises to leave without any drama.

Ilias calmly asked Rose who she was and what she was doing there.

Rose introduced herself with one of her identities -- Jane the Caitiff. She said, she badly wanted to see the exhibition but as a Caitiff who was just passing through she could never hope to secure an invitation, so she just... thought she’d have a look herself. And again, she apologised profusely and said she never wanted to cause any trouble or conflict, she only wanted to have a look and then leave.

(She didn’t quite get to the point of begging for her life, because that would just piss off a lot of Kindred and disgust them, but it was heavily implied.)

Now, this could be totally out of character because I don’t know Ilias from anywhere other than BJD.

But in my head, Ilias offered her a tour.

I don’t know if he believed her. I’m pretty sure he would have been suspicious about her story -- what Caitiff introduces themself as Caitiff, let alone without being asked? What kindred gets confronted by another and immediately backs down and rolls over like Rose did? And he must have been certain she was breaking in to steal the artefacts, not actually look at them.

But in my head he still offered her his arm, and said he’d give her a tour.

And Rose is like... if I accept this I am TOTALLY going to get destroyed.

But, well, she thought Ilias was a Toreador who could easily outrun her if she tried to bolt (yay Celerity), and she really did want to see the historic artefacts... so she accepted. Fully accepting that yeah, he’s probably going to try and kill her at some point.

He was probably going to destroy her whether she ran or not, may as well have the tour first.

So he showed her around. Showed her the art and the historic artefacts -- noticed that she seemed most interested in the history than the art, so he directed most of his attention there, and noticed that she actually had more knowledge of history than the average Kindred. She seemed to be very well-educated, especially for a Caitiff (not that he asked, because that would be Rude and Tzimisce do not DO Rude*), so I think he quite enjoyed talking to her and teaching her -- filling in little gaps in her knowledge.

* I mean, nobody ever described torture as rude now, did they?

I think he actually found her quite fascinating. She’s allegedly a Caitiff who, for some reason, was apparently open about her identity as one (immediate thought: “she’s actually from a clan worse than Caitiff”) and has a lot of education. And when she admitted she got that education from rifling through Tremere libraries (an apparent Caitiff) that just fascinated him even more because holy shit, you broke into Tremere libraries??? (not that he said that, rather subtly encouraging her to elaborate. She didn’t.) And he found it endearing that she was quick to assure him she always put the books back in the same condition as she found them, because most Kindred wouldn’t specify that.

“Jane” clearly was on her own and valued knowledge highly. Any suspicion he had of her at first that she was incredibly dangerous ended up ebbing because she was just so sincere.

Rowan/Rose was absolutely delighted by this tour and what he taught her, and let down her guard a bit because “well he’s going to kill me anyway.”

And then he didn’t.

When the tour was over and they’d had a good long chat afterwards about his exhibition, he just took her to the door and let her out.

And she was like, “What, you’re not going to destroy me?”

And he was like, no, you’ve given me no reason to.

“I broke into your gallery. Isn’t that enough reason?”

And he points out she was quite gracious and polite, trespass notwithstanding.

So she’s... really touched. And she thanks him, and leaves.

And develops a monster crush on him whoops.

A while later she writes him a letter -- apologises about lying to him about being a Caitiff called Jane, but that it was for her own safety and that given how kindly he treated her, she honestly does truly regret lying to him. She doesn’t regret hiding the truth, because she has to for her own survival, but she does regret lying to him.

She thanks him sincerely and from the bottom of her heart for the kindness he showed her, explains her interest in history (the Salubri, especially) and gives him the letter her sire gave her. It’s old, it’s yellowed and almost falling apart, and the ink has faded quite a bit -- but it’s still legible.

Part of Rose’s letter is this part:

It’s nothing, compared to the artefacts you have. It’s just a letter from one Salubri to his orphaned childe, and isn’t important at all in a historic context.

But you thought I was Caitiff. You thought I was a clan lower than dirt, and I’d broken into your gallery, and you still showed me a tremendous amount of kindness that I’ve never, ever seen from any Kindred.

I’m giving this to you because I can never repay your kindness. I’m a Salubri constantly on the run from those who think I want to devour their souls, from those who’d kill me on sight the second they saw my third eye. I have nothing to give you. I will never be able to repay you. I will always have nothing.

But I do have this. And this means everything to me, just as your kindness did -- and so I repay you the best way I can. The only way I can.

I know it must be worthless to you, but it means the world to me. So please take care of it. It’s falling apart because over the years, there have been periods where I haven’t been able to preserve it properly, preserve it as it deserves, but if you decide to keep it I know you can treat it right.

Thank you, Elias. For everything.

Rose d’Eleanor

Clan Salubri

(childe of etc etc etc)

Again, dunno if it’s in or out of character... but in my head Ilias was actually deeply touched that she gave it to him, because even though it’s no magical artefact it was obviously such a personal thing, and also a little disturbed and sad that she’s so unused to kindness that her first response to being shown any is to throw at him the thing that means most to her in the entire world.

And in my head he preserves it in glass and puts it in his gallery, along with the letter she wrote him. Strauss will see it one day and be like “hang on a sec, I know that name...”

also it pisses off Aisling Sturbridge so that’s just another bonus of putting it in his gallery

Again, I’m probably taking liberties with his character, but I think it inspires Ilias to start looking at historical artefacts from a personal perspective, afterwards. Like instead of just collecting art and the Big Important Artefacts, he starts collecting things like letters and keepsakes of Kindred who are long gone, making history a little more personal.

and I like to think that having those letters in his gallery plants a bit of a dormant seed in the Kindred community. A seed that says “maybe the Salubri aren’t what the Tremere made them out to be.” A seed that says, “hey, you guys, remember how the Tremere are utter bastards? Maybe they’re the bastards here yet again!”

anyway that was BEFORE I found out that he was Sascha’s lover and that he’s probably just as fucking evil deep down, at which point I peed a little on Rose’s behalf. WOO. BECAUSE THE ONLY THING ALMOST AS TERRIFYING AS BEING STUCK IN A ROOM WITH SASCHA VYKOS IS BEING STUCK IN A ROOM WITH SOMEONE WHO WAS IN LOVE WITH THEM YIIIKES.

Oh Rose, of course you fucking glommed onto someone who might be genuinely horrible because they were nice to you.

and now I’ve made myself really really sad, because the whole Salubri lot in unlife is sad. :(

#VTM #Rose d'Eleanor #Rowan Elensdottir #Ilias #Ilias cel Frumos #Salubri #Tzimisce

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angelic-kisses13 · 5 years ago

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Antillia

Authors Note: I’m so sorry its a day late but its here now and I hope you enjoy! All characters are mine (except Henry Cavill) and so is the story line. Please do not repost this on other sites. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

Warnings: Gore, swearing, mentions a blowjob, Violence, very minor character death

Blood covered Henry’s hands as he worked to skin the flesh from the man’s leg, he was focused on not cutting the black ink that swirled across the man’s knee and down his inner thigh. It was the first piece of the map and he couldn’t be more thrilled to finally have it in his hands, even if it was in less traditional means.

The sound of the dying man echoed around Henry as he continued flaying the man’s skin. It was a sickening yet oddly satisfying feeling to possess and control the blade to cut away muscle and fatty tissue. He had managed to swindle the man into coming into one of the caves of the town they were currently staying in.

He just had to pay one of the wenches a few extra coins and lure the man into his waiting arms, the plan was foolproof. Henry had camped out in the cave for a few hours, making sure that everything was set up correctly. He had just finished setting up the campfire so he could see to make the incisions when he heard footsteps echo through the cave. He waited with bated breath as the voices and footsteps grew closer.

The poor Pirate was so wasted he couldn’t figure out how to stand up on his own, let alone figure out who had desecrated his body with the crude jagged cuts from his dagger. Unfortunately, that also meant that the moment the wench let the old drunkard go, he was falling headfirst into a pile of rocks in front of him. His head connecting with the limestone with a resounding whack and a soft grunt of pain. Henry and the wench had stood in shock for a few moments before the wench made a hasty retreat, her skirts billowing out behind her as she raced back through the cave, her voice bouncing off the walls, a prayer falling from her lips in her wake.

Henry had stalked closer and upon pushing the man onto his back he had noticed the deep indentation on the man’s temple, thick blood blooming across his face in rivulets. He simply shook his head at the sight, what a waste of a Pirate.

Henry held his breath as the stink of the man wafted through the air, how the wench had stood to be around him was a wonder. He stripped the man down and began cutting, just as he made the first wound, the drunkard moaned in pain. Henry glanced up to see the man still breathing, though the airway was severely blocked by the blood seeping into his gasping mouth, effectively choking him to death. Though it was going to be a few moments before that happened, Henry quickly got to work. He didn’t want to be here any longer than he needed.

Hopefully, if the body was discovered the townsmen would think the Voodoo Witches had used his body for a ritual. It wouldn’t be the first time a Pirates body had been found missing some teeth and limbs. Successfully, pulling the piece of flesh off the man’s knee with a body shuddering shlick, he held the skin up in the light of his fire. The flames danced behind it, illuminating the words and landmarks etched on the skin.

He scowled as the illuminated words weren’t words but lines with triangles in varying positions. How the hell was he supposed to find this sacred treasure if he couldn’t read it? He growled and kicked the corpse at his feet in anger. This was a waste of time, he knew there would be a trick to it, there always was.

He had promised his crew a map and while he didn’t have all of it the part he did have, the very fucking first part wasn’t even legible to him. It was all nonsense, every last line. He took a deep breath as he grabbed a cloth rag from his pocket and wrapped it around the piece of flesh, it wouldn’t do him any good looking at it here. Maybe all he needed was a new set of eyes, who knows, maybe one of his men could read the odd pictures. Or at least make out what landmark it was directing them to.

He walked over to his makeshift fire and quickly kicked some of the dirt onto it, snuffing the flames out before shouldering the wall, his fingers memorizing the nooks and grooves that would lead him out. He left the body behind, no need to attempt to hide it, the animals and witches would be lead right to it for him.

An hour later, saw Henry walking towards the town’s brothel, his head down deep in thought, a number of ladies called out to him, wanting to be the lucky girl to grace his bed for the night. He was the infamous Henry “Rancor” Cavill, Captain of the Lex Talionis for the last two decades. He had managed to overthrow his captain after working for him for three months. The man was soft and unfit for ruling the seas the way they were meant to. They were Pirates, they were here to plunder and take, killing everyone who stood in their way, within reason of course. You didn’t want to kill just to get tally marks on your forearms, though some did do that.

He walked onto the dock, his boots thudding against the logs as he neared his ship, the sounds of the waves lapping against the sides of the ships was enough to unwind his shoulders and his neck to crack. He walked up the steps and was greeted by his ship hand, the young man was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his eyes sparkling as he waited for Henry to give him an order. He was one of the newest additions to the crew, but he held great potential to become a legendary Captain.

“Go and grab Rais for me, I have something that will interest him.”

“Yes, Captain!” Henry watched as the man scampered off, gliding in and out of swaying Pirates and dodging flying rum bottles. His crew was awfully rambunctious tonight. A warm smile touched his lips as he turned towards his cabin, as he walked in he took off his black trench coat, the gold buttons jingling together as he placed it on the back of his chair, his sword was taken off next, and placed to his left, the hilt resting against his thigh as he took a seat at his desk.

He grabbed the wrapped flesh from his jacket pocket and placed it down on the desktop. Some of the blood had seeped through the white rag and Henry pulled the soiled cloth away from the jagged flesh. He frowned as he looked at it, it appeared that the landmarks and writing were from a different time. Frustration built up in Henry’s body, his eyes closing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It was always like this, no matter how close he had come to find the treasure that he had been seeking since he was a child, he was always three steps behind.

His quarters were disturbed and he stood to his feet, sword out in front him, eyes feral as he sized up his opponent. His arm fell, the sword cutting through the air as Rais watched him with wide eyes.

“My, someone is quick to anger tonight. You not get your rocks off with one of the whores?” Henry sighed at the man’s crude words, though he did have to stop and wonder if getting a wench to suck him off would have done something to ease his frustrations.

“Rais, I finally found it!” His words were quick and to the point. Rais stood in silence, face blank as he processed Henry’s words.

“It? The It, It?” Henry snorted as he motioned for Rais to walk closer, the man quickly moved forward, his hands landing on the desk as he peered over the cloth and flesh in between them.

“Holy shit. You really found it! Henry, you found it!” Rais’s voice grew with each sentence uttered, the unmasked glee and hope on his face, sent Henry through the roof. This was the first step, all he needed to do was find the other three pieces and he would be on his way to the treasure of dreams.

“I’ve found it, but Rais I can’t make heads nor tails of the words and landmarks. This isn’t part of the ocean I’ve traversed.” Rais hummed as he moved the map closer to him and looked it over.

“The writing is different, not something I have seen before.” Henry nodded his head in agreement,

“I was hoping you would know someone who could read it. Someone obviously doesn’t want people finding this treasure.”

“I might know someone but its close to a month’s journey.”

“That’s fine, we need to get someone who can read this, I’m not about to let this opportunity slip through my fingers a second time, Rais.” Henry’s eyes had darkened as he voiced his displeasure.

“Aye, Henry, it won’t escape you again. We will get that treasure and no-one will be able to stop us.” Henry shared a fangy smile with Rais as they bundled the map back up and moved towards the mast of the ship, they had a crew to sober up.

Taglist: @agniavateira @cavillanche @cavillunraveled @dancingwendigo @dreamwritesimagines @ficsandcatsandficsandcats @hlkwrites @hnryycvll @honeychicanawrites @iloveyouyen @johnmotherfuckingshelby @ladyreapermc @laketaj24 @littlefreya @ly--canthrope @mary-ann84 @mrsaugustwalker @ohvalleyofplentyyy @omgkatinka @sciapod @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @supersweetstache @thethirstyarchive @the-winter-witcher @thegreattodd @titty-teetee @tumblnewby @viking-raider @wednesdaybraids @white-wolf-of-rivia @witcherwrites

#Henry Cavill #Pirate Henry Cavill #Voodoo Witch Reader #agnst

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hihigherdi · 4 years ago

Text

Just like her mama.

I can’t find my glasses and I’m typing this on my phone so this might not be legible.

I took today off. I’ve been abrupt and confused this week, very disengaged. It’s likely due to lack of sleep and staring too long at people in screens; I have a habit now of staying up super late reading the internet, watching Netflix, snuggling the cats. There’s something about needing to relax my brain from the intensity of the day I guess? I don’t know.

I’ve stopped watching the Karen videos so much. They are so disturbing and yet they are effective, we are seeing more mask compliance for sure. People are so quick to pull out their phones at the smallest sign of disturbance - say what you want about the viciousness of cancel culture but this name and shame thing works. People are afraid. Good. If that’s the only thing that our culture can do to make others safe? That’s not our issue.

I’m much more confident Trump is going to lose the election now looking at the potential electoral map. That despair is lifting, the bracing myself for what comes is softening ever so much. Biden is so problematic, still makes me feel sick to my stomach but it’s better than the alternative.

I had a super intense session with Elaine this week that was a game changer in a good way. I’m not sure that I will talk about it here but I am coming to grips with some behavior in my life being addictive - powerless to control it - and it’s been wirh me since I was very young. Finally acknowledging that was I think, one of the hardest moments I’ve had in therapy. Something shifted that needed to, like I was behind a door with no door handle to let myself out and I somehow created one eith that admission.

I finally have a housecleaning team coming to deep clean and sanitize this place. I hate spending money on it because I can do it myself and I do, but I have little free time - do I want to scrub this shower down? Spend hours mopping? Mh lazy ass is winning. I cancelled the last company for continuing to cancel on me a million times, so I’m trying someone new. I got up super early to clean before they got here at 8am and then I just realized it’s at 11am. So I’m going to run a bunch of errands and get some things done before they get here.

My Woodlawn home closes today. The money will be in my bank by Monday. What a thing. I am kind of looking around to buy something but it’s just too expensive here. I love this little place, my rent is dirt cheap; time is on my side. This interest rate is insanely low, that’s the only thing stopping me but I don’t see it changing for awhile.

I am really proud of how I’ve managed my financial health. I’ve held my company stock for so long which has panicked my financial planner for years but the net result is that it has split a few times and is shaping up for a solid retirement. Nothing is ever promised and it’s such a risk to keep holding it like this, but in the end I believe in what we are doing. So I want to invest in that.

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hyuwujin · 6 years ago

Text

brew-tiful | hjs

pairing: reader x jisung

genre: barista!au; fluff

length: 6.9k+

summary: you weren’t the most social person on the planet hence the reason you avoided the crowded coffee shop not far from your dorm. but when you’re forced to go and get your most needed coffee, you had no idea the change your life would go through when you walked through those doors. the cause of the change? the dumb charming barista behind the coutner flashing smiles whenever he saw you.

a/n: i’m back hello!!! wooh, i’m so happy my motivation to write has returned and let’s hope it stays!! i’m hella rusty so soz if this fic suck :/ enjoy bbs!!! also dedicated to @changbear bc she’s been w a i t i n g so long for this oof

You never walked into the campus cafe that was a convenient distance from your dorm building, mostly because of how crowded it always was. You hated crowds. Crowds meant noise. Noise meant distractions.

But looking out the large glass windows at the sight of the cafe while you stood in front of the empty vending machine, your thoughts changed.

I need a coffee to help me stay awake to write this damn essay, you thought to yourself with a frown.

Looking back at the vending machine, your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Huffing to yourself, you turned around and left the dorms, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head when you noticed the damp ground and the sound of light rain hitting against the pavement.

You passed by smiling students holding their picky coffee orders in one hand, laptop in the other with a flat expression. You pulled on the strings of your sweatshirt.

Maybe you could order a coffee without having much social interaction.

Hah, if only it was that easy.

You walked into the semi crowded coffee shop and your nose was instantly hit by the sweet smell of brewing coffee. The smell alone woke you up a bit, causing you to look up and around for the cash register. Mustering up both the courage and patience, you waited on the end of the line.

One of the baristas, you noticed, was being occupied by a small group of enthusiastic girls twirling their hair and laughing at almost everything he said, causing you to scoff to yourself. Maybe this is why the line isn’t moving, you noted.

Then you noticed another barista rush up to the cash register, nudging the social barista with a pointed expression, before asking the next person in line for their order.

The few single people in front of you knew their somewhat complex order like the back of their hand and you felt uneasy, not having a clue what to get. You could go for an iced coffee...or an espresso...but that macchiato that girl was holding on the way out looked pretty good.

You didn’t notice the barista formerly speaking to the group of girls stop to glance around the shop, until his eyes landed on you. He smiled to himself, looking at the deep-in-thought pout on your face.

“Hey, can I get you anything?” The boy behind the counter excused himself from the group of giggling girls and turned to you with a welcoming smile. The barista originally at the cash register left to take care of a customer’s order. You felt your cheeks heat at the sudden attention you were getting, both from the handsome boy and the group of now glaring girls.

“I uh…” you trailed off, gnawing on your lower lip, scanning over the chalkboard menu behind his head. You admire the neat handwriting on the wall as you scanned; it was definitely boyish but still legible. You don’t notice the barista observing your concentrated face––furrowed brows and twisted lips––with an amused smile.

“Let me guess,” the boy chuckled, wiping his hands on his apron. “You’ve never been here before?”

Averting your gaze to the girls beside you, you felt yourself shrink under their scrutiny. Quickly turning your head back at him, you shook your head. “No, does it look obvious?”

“I think I can recognize everyone who’s ever walked in,” the barista boasted, crossing his arms. “...and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

“I don’t really go to cafes much,” you shrugged, not taking into account the fact that you were making small talk with some stranger when a few minutes ago all you wanted was a coffee.

“Oh, how come?”

Part of you wondered why the boy seemed so interested but by the way you previously observed his encounter with the now impatient girls waiting for his attention beside you, you figured he was like that with all of the customers. Must be good for tips, you presumed.

“Cafes are usually…loud. I don’t really concentrate well in them so that’s why I usually get a pre-made bottled coffee from the vending machine in my dorm.”

“And today’s different because…” the boy trailed off, waiting for you to continue, the side of his lip quirking up into a half smile.

“They were all out of my coffee,” you pouted, looking down. The barista watched your cute expression with a soft smile but immediately dropped it when you looked back up. He was not used to the way his heart was beating out of his chest.

“Ah, kinda hurts my ego that we were a last resort but I’ll take it since you’re here,” the barista smiled cutely and then you understood why the girls he was previously conversing with were giggling and beaming like idiots. This guy sure was charming.

Noticing the line forming behind you, you felt yourself flush in embarrassment. “Oh god, I’m stalling. Can I just get something strong to go please? I need all the caffeine I can get.”

Shooting you finger guns and a wink, he said, “You got it. Just wait over here.”

“How pathetic,” you heard one of the girls murmur to her friends, staring directly at you. “This girl’s just dying to get out of here.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Wouldn’t want to stall our Jisung-ie any longer~” Another friend beside her whispered with a knowing smile.

Huffing to yourself with an eye roll, you walked around the group of girls and waited at the end of the counter near the wall.

“Alright, you didn’t exactly give me cream or sugar preference so I kind of guessed? Try it first so I’ll know if I need to fix it.” The barista came back with a steaming hot cup of coffee and held it out for you to take. It’s been a while since you hadn’t had coffee that wasn’t refrigerated and synthetic. Raising a curious brow at the boy’s eagerness for you to try the drink, you were intrigued.

Taking a small sip from the cup, you raised your eyebrows in utter praise for the drink in your hand. “This...is incredible. How much?”

The boy shook his head while waving his hands dismissively. “No charge. Every customer’s first drink at this cafe is free,” he grinned.

“Are...are you sure?” You trailed off, noticing the dropped jaws of the girls beside you just before their glares were replaced.

“Promise! I hope to see you again soon...wait, what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, feeling heat rise up your neck.

“Well then, I hope to see you again, Y/N. That coffee from your vending machine is probably god awful and full of garbage so I really suggest returning here,” the handsome barista winked after his statement and woah, you didn’t think you’ve ever felt more flustered than you have in the past ten minutes. You notice the group of girls beside you whisper amongst themselves.

“I...I’ll see about that. Thank you…” you trailed off, cocking your head to the side, looking for any name-tag on the boy behind the counter.

“Jisung. My name’s Jisung.” You’d later learn that the reason he didn’t wear a name tag was because he felt the urge to introduce himself to customers as a way of getting to know them better.

“Thanks Jisung,” you mumbled before turning to leave and sprinted back to your dorms, trying your best to avoid getting rained on too harshly. The girls took your place in front of the counter, beginning their conversation with Jisung again but he was too absorbed in the sight of you to pay any attention to them.

“He what!? He gave you a coffee on the house?” Your fellow classmate and best friend, Felix, raised the empty cup from the cafe to examine. You raised an eyebrow as he scrutinized at it.

“Yeah,” you shrug nonchalantly, “He said it was policy that the first drink is free.”

“P-Pol–” Throwing his head back, Felix let out a loud laugh and you sent a confused expression his way.

“What’s so funny?”

“That policy doesn’t exist,” he said in amusement, putting the cup back on the table. Currently the two of you were at the study hall of your dorm building, studying for your economics test in a few days. Although you would have much rather finished your essay, which was your sole purpose of the getting the coffee in the first place, your friend decided to use your generosity against you to beg you to help him study instead.

“What are you talking about? Yes it does.”

“Oh yeah? Then how come I had to pay for my first coffee?”

“I dunno, maybe it’s a new policy,” you reasoned with a shrug.

“No, Y/N, you know what it is? Flirting.”

“Pfft, don’t be so ridiculous! I had maybe a five minute conversation with the guy, got my coffee and left. No flirtation was present during my trip to the coffee shop.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in response, pinching his chin. “Yeah, no. I don’t believe it. You were just flirted with the oldest trick in the book. ‘How much for my coffee?’ ‘For you? Don’t worry about it darling, it’s on the house. My treat.’” He started mimicking your voice unnaturally high in pitch and then mimics Jisung’s response. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his imitations.

“Hey,” you frown, smacking his arm. “He did not say that.”

“Yeah but he said something like that...Are you gonna go back?”

“Well,” you gnaw at your lower lip, wondering what to do with this new information. “I guess I have to?”

“You have to? Damn Y/N––”

“To pay him back obviously,” you cut him off, thinking aloud. “Right? Since the policy doesn’t exist, technically I’m stealing and there’s no way my conscience could deal with that without making it eat me up inside so the only reasonable thing to do is to go back and pay them back.”

“I…” Felix trailed off, scratching his head, “I guess so.”

It was the right thing to do wasn’t it? The gesture was kind and all but you couldn’t not pay them back. You knew other people would call you insane for returning back to the cafe you knew you wouldn’t just to spend a few dollars you could be spending on lunch.

You marched through the cafe doors and surprisingly, it was less crowded than you’d originally thought it be. The sun was nearly set, indicating that most classes were well over for the day and you’d think that students would head over to the coffee shop as a way of winding down or to do some homework. Seats were filled around the cafe but it wasn’t nearly as loud and crowded as it was the day prior.

“Woah there, you look like you’re on a mission,” a curly haired barista wiping down a table toward the entrance raised his eyebrows and smiled in amusement.

“Do you know if Jisung is here?” You cut to the chase, panting slightly from your swift walk to the shop.

Furrowing his brows, he looked up in thought, “Hm, he’s on break right now but he’ll be back in,” he paused to look over your shoulder at the hanging clock at the back of the shop behind the counter, “four minutes.”

“I guess I’ll wait then,” you murmured, taking an open seat at a booth against the wall of the cafe.

“Can I get you anything in the meantime? Some dessert or a drink?”

“No, no,” you shook your head with a smile. “Thanks.”

“No problemo,” he grinned, showing off his dimples. Was it a requirement to be cute to work at this cafe? You thought to yourself. “If you need anything, I’m Chan, so just holler.” It was no wonder that this café was so popular; all the workers seemed to radiate such charisma that you just couldn’t not return to say hello again.

You waited a few minutes, tapping your fingers without any sort of rhythm against the wooden table and watched the clock’s second hand gradually make its way around the circumference of the face. Chan noticed your rigid stare at the clock and fidgeting state with a mixture between an amused smile and a confused one.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” he began when he walked back over to the side of the cafe you were sitting at, brushing his hands against the sides of his faded blue jeans, “that you seem kinda nervous? Are you going to confess to him or something?”

Popping your eyes open, you opened your mouth to quickly deny his allegations before you felt yourself choke on your own breath and ended up in coughing fits. Chan widened his eyes in panic at your response and quickly walked away to retrieve some water from behind the counter. Chan walked back to your table and placed a tall glass of water on the table. “Have some water.”

Taking a gulp from the glass, you felt relief in your throat. Placing the glass down, you sighed, “Whew, thanks.”

“No problem.

Before you could even refute Chan’s accusation, you heard the jingle of the cafe door followed by “Good afternoon, beautiful people, I have returned.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes in amusement at Jisung and his big goofy grin. This guy just exuded charisma. He didn’t notice you when he first walked in, probably because Chan was in his line of sight but as soon as he walked behind the counter and grabbed his apron from the hook on the wall behind him he spotted you.

“Y/N, you’re back!” He smiled gleefully, while tying the back of his apron. “Want another coffee?”

Shaking your head, you get up from the table, giving Chan a grateful smile in the process, and walked up to the counter. “I’m here to pay you back,” you took out your wallet and start to fiddle with some bills.

“Woah, what are you talking about?”

You didn’t look up from your wallet when you replied, “the policy? I know it’s not real. You didn’t have to just give me a coffee on the house. It was a sweet gesture, don’t get me wrong, really smart marketing you got there but––”

“Y/N,” Jisung stopped you and you look up to see his amused smile.

“What?” You blinked at him, tilting your head to the side in wonder. Were you missing something?

“I gave you the coffee because....” he trailed off before scoffing, “nevermind.” You were lucky you were cute.

“So... can I pay you back now?”

“To be fair,” Jisung crossed his arms defiantly, “since your coffee was on the house that means I paid for you so you don’t owe this shop anything.”

“Oh, so I should pay you. How much was it?” You look back down at your wallet.

Sighing to himself, he opened his mouth as if to answer before he closed it. Drumming his fingers against the counter, he hums in thought.

“Okay, how about a way to pay me back is to return here ever so often?”

“What?” You squinted your eyes suspiciously, wondering what he was asking. Is this...another marketing tactic?

“Even though you said you’d think about coming here again, I saw right through you: you weren’t going to come back. And the only reason you are back is to pay me back. So to pay me back, you have to come back to this cafe...once a day for a week.”

“A week?” you furrow your brows. “Dude, are you robbing me!? That’s like four dollars a day!”

“You don’t have to buy coffee if you come. Even if you just come in to say hi, I’ll call it payment.”

You paused for a moment, thinking about his offer. “Why?”

“Huh?” Jisung seemed taken back by the way he straightened his posture, widened his eyes and his former side smile became somewhat pout-like.

“What’s the deal with getting me to come around to this coffee shop? Do you do this with all your new customers?”

“No,” he leans back to grin before taking notice at someone at a table awaiting their order to be taken and Jisung nods at them and puts up a finger, gesturing ‘I’ll be right there.’ Turning back to you, he wiggles an eyebrow. “I guess you’re just special. I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

He walked around the counter and walked over to the student with a charismatic smile and asked there order. You stood there for a few seconds, watching him interact with the customer, trying to figure him out. A clearing of a throat, broke you away from your thoughts.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Chan asks from behind the register. You’d been so focused on the other boy, you didn’t even notice Chan walk around the counter.

“Uh,” you hum, looking down at the desserts behind the glass.You thought you weren’t hungry but the somewhat loud grumble of you stomach told you otherwise. “A blueberry muffin please.”

“Sure thing,” Chan nods, opening the case before asking, “warmed up?”

“Yes, please.”

He wrapped your muffin into a small bag and folded it before placing it on the counting. Typing away on the register he said, “That’ll be $1.75.” FInally you were getting charged for something.

“Here,” you gave him five dollars. “Give the rest to Jisung please? Just add it to his tip jar or something.”

Knitting his eyebrows together, he asked, “Why?”

“Well, since he refuses to let me pay him back for my coffee, I guess this’ll be my only way to,” you grin, taking the bag and waving at Chan. “Thank you!”

Chan watched you leave with an amused smile on your face and it wasn’t until the bell jingled behind you, signaling you were gone that he turned to Jisung.

“Did you literally pull a ‘it’s on the house’ flirt and it backfired?��

The few customers in the cafe look up from their coffee or studying at Chan’s shout, causing Jisung’s ears to go bright red. “Hyung!” He whisper shouted. Turning to the student with a nervous smile, he reassured, “I’ll be right back.” Walking over to the older boy until he was standing on the opposite side of the counter than him, he whined “Why’d you have to announce that in front of the whole cafe?”

“Please,” Chan rolled his eyes with a scoff, “You’re so red and smiley, everyone didn’t need to know because I announced it. You’re so obvious, dude.”

“Not to Y/N apparently,” Jisung grumbled to himself, looking down at the notepad in his hand with his customer’s order before pushing it over the counter for Chan to make. “I tried to do a smooth thing and she doesn’t even notice,” he murmured to himself, rubbing his forehead.

“Yeah that was kind of odd. It’s like she didn’t even acknowledge it at all,” Chan nodded with furrowed brows, turning to make the drink. “Think she’s just clueless or...perhaps, playing hard to get?”

“Hard to get?” Jisung’s eyes widened. The thought never came to Jisung. “You think?”

“Hm, maybe?” Chan shrugged to himself, back turned to Jisung.

Turning around to lean against the counter, Jisung cupped his forehead in frustration. He’s never been in that sort of situation. Granted, he’s also never been so bold with a girl either. It was one thing to charm and flatter girls till they were weak at the knees for him, but to do it upon acting on his own feelings? All of this was new.

And now you were playing hard to get?

Man, did he pick a tough one.

But he was willing to fight to win you over, even if it took months.

“I’m screwed.”

“Oh yeah and I’m pretty sure she’d rather you not know but she left a large enough tip for you in your tip jar to pay for her coffee yesterday.”

“Are you kidding me!?”

The next morning wasn’t a particularly productive one for you. You didn’t have classes till later in the afternoon but you still had studying to do and staying up late to finish your essay certainly didn’t help your mood.

Maybe some breakfast would do you some good. Some actual breakfast. You had a piece of toast when you woke up but the grumble of your stomach told you you weren’t satisfied. You walked out of your dorm building and involuntarily, your feet began moving in the direction of the sweet smell of baked goods.

Of course your luck was that you’d end up at the cafe at the same Jisung was working. Later you’d learn that your timing was so impeccable, you’d end up at the cafe when Jisung was working.

“My favorite girl!” Was the greeting you received when you entered, followed by the looks from random students you’ve never seen before. This boy…

You noticed two boys beside him behind the counter that you’ve never seen before, slapping his shoulder and laughing to each other, before Jisung pushed them off and offered you a grin.

“Do find joy in embarrassing me in front of strangers?” You asked when you reached the front of the counter.

“Maybe a little bit,” he smiles, resting his chin against his palm as he leaned against the counter. “What can I get you, brew-tiful?”

The boys standing behind Jisung stifled laughs while you stared at Jisung’s wide grin with an unamused frown. “Really, now? You’re gonna give me dumb coffee puns?”

“Not dumb,” he denied, the smile on his face never faltering, “genius. Now, what would you like?”

“Something filling, I’m starving,” you pat your belly with a frown. “Any suggestions?”

“How about I surprise you?” He asked, quirking one of his eyebrows up.

“Well the last time you did, I was pleasantly satisfied so why not?”

“Great! I’ll be right back.” Jisung walked further down the counter to grab you a treat.

“So you and Jisung, huh?” One of the boys you noticed before smirked with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

“Me and Jisung what?” You asked blankly. “I just met the guy a few days ago.”

“Oh really? You guys seem pretty close for how long you’ve known each other,” the other boy piped. You looked at the boy’s name-tags with furrowed brows. Hyunjin and Jeongin.

The first boy, Hyunjin, nodded in agreement.

“I wouldn’t say close but I guess we’re friendly with each other. No clue why, though,” you shrugged.

“You’re the one who got the free drink, right?” Jeongin asked, not even bothering to hide his amusement with his grin.

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, wondering how they even found that out you responded, “yup, that’d be me. Why?”

“You must feel spe––”

“Hey, what lies are you feeding her?” Jisung cut off the barista with a scowl, holding the small paper bag in your hand.

“None, we swear!” Hyunjin piped, raising his hands in surrender. “Were we?” He asked, turning to you with a look of pure innocence. Yup, your initial thoughts about this place were right: you had to be incredibly cute to work there.

“Not really,” you shrugged before noticing the bag in Jisung’s hands. “Is that mine?” You ask shyly, pointing your finger at it.

“It is,” Jisung smiled, handing you the bag.

You found it funny how he’d look at his own friends with such pure disgust and then turn to you with the brightest smile.

“Uh-uh,” you stopped him from walking away, wagging your finger at him in scolding manner.

He turned back to you with a sly smile, “Aw, don’t want to leave so soon Y/N?”

“No-o,” you drawled, rolling your eyes, “I’d like to pay for it.”

Sighing, he turned to the register and tapped the screen a few times before opening his palm out, “$1.25 please.”

“Thank you,” you grinned, fishing out two dollars from your wallet. “And please...keep the change.”

You flashed him a final smile and a wave before you turn to go. You didn’t notice him go on his tippy-toes, to look over the people sat in the café and waiting on line, carefully looking at your reaction to what he picked out for you. Noticing the pleased smile on your face, Jisung gave himself a pat on the back and nodded to himself confidently.

“Woah, she’s blind. It’s pretty obvious you’re into her,” Hyunjin chuckled to himself, while wiping the counter with a damp washcloth.

“And dumb. You were just going to give her that cookie for free again! Man, I wish I had free food,” Jeongin whined, shoving his hands into his empty pockets, searching for any loose change.

“Yeah well, jokes on her,” Jisungs said, a smile growing on his face, “I gave it to her with a discount.”

“She gave you an extra seventy five cents anyway,” Hyunjin paused wiping to deadpan with a knowing look.

“Oh, shut up.”

“So what’s it like dating a barista? Does he, like, make coffees for you during his free time?” Felix asked in the middle of one of your study sessions the following day.

“Huh? Who am I dating?”

“Uh, that Jisung dude. Isn’t he the guy who gave you the drink for free?”

“Yeah but we’re not dating??”

“Oh really? Everyone I talk to has been saying that so I just assumed you were being an awful friend and not telling me about your love life simply because I’m a guy.”

“Please, when I get a boyfriend, you’ll be the first one to know,” you waved a hand dismissively. “But people seriously think we’re dating? That’s totally ridiculous!”

“Yeah being offered things for free and being smiled at and called his ‘favorite girl’ means absolutely nothing.”

“I….I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you cross your arms stubbornly with a huff.

“Ask anyone,” Felix said with a nonchalant shrug, “They all think you’re dating.”

“I...I just met the guy!”

“Ooh, I didn’t hear anything about you not liking him at all. Usually your first denial against dating anyone would be explaining your feelings but…”

“Don’t say that! I don’t like him, now if you’ll excuse me,” You stood up from the table. “I need to go sort something out.” You were getting a sense of deja vu from needing to confront Jisung earlier days prior.

“Tell your boyfriend I said ‘hi!’” your best friend cups his hand over his mouth to shout after you begin walking away. You shoot him a final scowl of disapproval before continuing on.

That day was a busy one for the coffee shop. You craned your neck around to calculate just how many people were in front of you on line and groaned in impatience when you counted more than fingers on one of your hands.

This is why I don’t go to coffee shops. They’re too loud and busy.

You passed the time gazing around the coffee shop. The first few times you were in there, you didn’t really look at the scenery, too busy focusing on your coffee and paying Jisung back.

You liked how warm the whole place felt. The whole shop was painted a dull forest green and there were brown wooden floorboards, perfectly accenting them. You took notice of the greenery around the cafe, small and tall potted plants scattered about and a fake vine wrapped around the menu board giving it an extra touch. The lights were dim, mostly because of the large array of windows in the front of the shop where the sun shone brightly through.

The tables were all wooden, that you observed the first time you sat down, but you didn’t notice how happy all the customers seemed to be. There were pairs and groups of friends sitting about, talking about their day or what’d they like to do over the weekend, or students in single seats, reading a book or making a conversation with a barista. You didn’t see a frown anywhere. It seemed that this cafe radiated such good vibes that no one could be angry in such a chill place.

“Uh, Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” A voice snapped you back to reality. You blinked at the fingers snapping in front of your face.

“Oh...hey!” You shook your head out of your daze, trying to remember why you’d come to the cafe in the first place.

Chucking to himself, Jisung asked, “Can I get your order?”

“Just a water,” you gnawed on your lower lip in regret. Why show up to his workplace if you simply had to ask him a question? You could’ve easily found him when he was done…

But then again, you never saw him outside the coffee shop so you wouldn’t know where to look in the first place.

“You came all the way here for a water?” Jisung asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, of course she didn’t,” a voice sang, the owner of it showing up behind Jisung. “She’s obviously here to say hello to her boyfriend. Don’t you have manners, dude?”

“B-boyfriend?”

“Uh no.”

The two of you spoke in unison, turning to the speaker.

“You have a boyfriend?” Jisung asked, turning to you with an almost betrayed expression on his face.

“I don’t???”

“Wait what’s going on,” the boy, now confused, scratched his head. “Are the two of you not dating? That is Y/N, right? I’m pretty sure someone told me you were dating.”

“Please excuse Minho,” Jisung leaned forward with a whisper, “He gobbles up any gossip he hears.”

“Hey, I heard that! Now move over, the people need their coffee!” Minho announced nudging Jisung to the side to take the next customer in line’s order.

Jisung nodded his head, gesturing for you to walk further down the counter, to not hold up the line. You leaned against the counter with your arms crossed.

“This is why I came,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks flush. “I don’t know who said what but my friend is telling me that people are telling him, gossiping I guess, that we’re dating,” you motion between the two of you with your hand.

“Wha––really?” You furrowed your eyebrows at how Jisung’s ears perked up and smiled at what you’d told him.

“Yeah, they’re all saying something about favoritism and giving me free stuff and discounts. But I haven’t gotten any since the first time though so I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Right,” Jisung chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I didn’t say anything if that’s what you think. You think I’d do that to my favorite girl?”

“Well you sure like to embarrass me so I wouldn’t be too surprised. You seem like the kind to tease me that way.”

“Huh, that’s probably true but I promise it wasn’t me.”

“I believe you.” You truly did. Even though you probably wouldn’t have a few days prior, but Jisung really new to to charm his way into befriending people. “So, if you didn’t tell anyone, who did?”

Jisung shrugged. “Probably people around saw us and just assumed.”

Feeling your cheeks flush at the thought of people observing you and assuming you two were dating by your actions, you scoffed. “Pfft, what? How on earth could they think that?”

“It may sound like a total shock to you, Y/N, but I don’t talk to many girls as often or as willingly as I talk to you so…”

His statement did shock you. Several days prior, you saw the guy swarmed with girls around the counter giggling and cooing at him, and he seemed to bask in it. At least, you thought he did.

No doubt about it, you thought the guy was attractive since you first saw him so it didn’t come as a surprise that he had girls crowding him, hoping to earn a chance with him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jisung deadpanned. “I talk to other girls here in the coffee shop, sure, but it’s my job. I can’t just ignore them. You, though, I engage conversations with you first.”

You didn’t like the warm feeling you felt in your chest.

“Oh,” you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers.

“I understand if you want me to back off and stop bugging you so people stop assuming we’re—“

“It’s fine,” you cut him off sharply, snapping your head up to look at him. He was taken back by your answer, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes. “You’re, uh, pretty cool so I don’t mind.”

“You don’t? Didn’t it bother you like two minutes ago???”

“It did,” you admit quickly, looking away for a split second, “But I changed my mind.”

“Oh, so you’ll still come around?”

Smiling at him, you raise an eyebrow, “Where else am I supposed to get my coffee?”

“Oh.”

“I’ll see ya around. I have a test to study for. Bye Jisung,” you gave a final wave before making your way to the entrance of the café.

Even after you left, Jisung was frozen, mouth agape and eyes widened.

“Uh, dude?”

“She’s willing going to come around,” the lovestruck boy sighed longingly, feeling his heart flutter in chest.

“Oh man, he’s whipped,” Minho chuckled to himself, patting Jisung on the back a few times before returning to making coffees.

And man, he was. At first, he might’ve seen you as a mystery, looking so out of place in that cafe the first time he saw you, but then the more of you he saw, his initial curiosity became anticipation in seeing you again. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something about you drew him closer to you. Maybe it was your first impression of him which wasn’t like the other girls he came to meet in the cafe. Or maybe it was the fact that you treated him like some normal guy and not eye candy. Maybe he liked the fact that you were a challenge to go for.

“I think I like this better,” Jisung mused, leaning over the counter, while you sipped your steaming hot chocolate.

“Hm?” you hummed, looking up at him curiously. You were currently sitting on a stool pushed up the the coffee counter, watching Jisung clean up from the busy work day. It was a Wednesday evening and there were plenty of crammers in the cafe that day.

“You being here voluntarily. When I made you come, I felt a little guilty so this is much better,” he smiled, turning away from you to clear the counter of any stray mugs a customer left around.

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, looking around at the empty coffee shop. “I definitely like being here when it’s almost closed.” It was only the two of you in the coffee shop. Chan was there about an hour earlier but left when Jisung offered to close up for him.

“Y/N, we closed up a half hour ago,” Jisung said, putting the mugs in the small quaint sink in the back corner. You paused sipping from your mug to look behind you at the door. The sign was flipped open to face the interior of the cafe.

Looking up at the clock, your eyes widened. “Crap, I didn’t even notice! Why didn’t you kick me out?” No wonder nobody had walked in.

“Because it’s just you.” He shrugged before turning to you, patting his hands against his apron. “Besides, it’s not like I’m itching to go back to my dorm.”

“You’re not getting paid extra though,” you frowned, feeling bad for wasting his time. Here you were, blabbing about how sucky you lab day was because your impotent partner couldn’t even hold a scalpel correctly when your dear friend could’ve been in his dorm sleeping peacefully.

“Your company is enough,” he sighed with a side smile, resting his hands against the counter and holding himself up.

“Alright, charmer,” you rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your hot chocolate. You’d grown to get used to Jisung’s smooth comments but that didn’t mean you weren’t affected by them. “You still look tired.” His eyelids were drooping and he seemed less perky during the later hours of the day.

“I’m fine~” he cooed, waving you off, motioning you to finish your hot chocolate.

“No, no, you need to go to sleep. Take it, I’m finished,” you handed him your half full mug.

“Y/N,” he whined, hesitantly taking the mug out of your hands when you shook it around slightly.

“You have to close up,” you ignored his whines and stand up from the counter stool. “Come on.”

“I’m not a baby, don’t baby me,” he frowned, putting your mug in the sink and turning on the faucet to rinse it off.

Raising an amused eyebrow at him, you gestured to his face, “you’re pouting like a baby.” You tugged his sleeve and handed him the keys sitting on top of the counter. “And you have an early class tomorrow, no?”

Honestly, you thought your friendship was going to maybe last a few weeks before you inevitably lost touch or got too busy to see each other. But, weeks later, your friendship prevailed. Neither of you shared any classes in common together, yet you managed to see each other everyday.

You weren’t at the coffee shop everyday, however. Sometimes, he’d meet you in your dorm’s lounge to hang out, with an occasional interrogation from a very suspicious Felix.

People didn’t bother to stop talking about the two of you either, or even bother to hide. Sure, people knew you guys weren’t official or dating, but that didn’t stop them from shipping it from afar. You always ignored it. You thought you ignored it for the reason that you didn’t even care but maybe you did. Perhaps you ignored it because you didn’t mind being shipped with him.

“Yeah,” he murmured, accepting the keys and shuffled behind you. You both exited the café and you waited for the barista to lock up before heading off in the direction of your dorms.

“Why’re you still following me? Isn’t your building over there?” You asked, pointing in the direction of a few buildings in the distance.

“Can’t I walk you all the way to your dorm to make sure you get in safe? It’s 8 p.m., who knows what psychos are around,” Jisung shrugged tiredly. Even through his obvious exhausted state, he still wanted to be a gentleman and you smiled in response.

“Thanks,” you murmured, looking down at your feet, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. It was getting harder and harder to keep your pulse under control with Jisung’s blunt statements with some sort of underlying meaning.

“You know, I may be half asleep and it’s dark out and all,” Jisung began when you approached the doors of your dorm building, “but don’t think I didn’t notice you get all quiet just now.”

“Hm?” You hum, snapping your head up from fumbling around your wallet for your student card. “Wha-What are you talking about? I’m not being quiet...Why...why would you think that?” By the end of your pathetic rambles, you rubbed the back of your neck nervously.

Jisung raised an eyebrow at your obvious flustered state.

“Just admit my endearing comments are affecting you~” He sang, holding open the door you unlocked with your key. Walking in and turning around to face him, you scowled.

“They most certainly are not!” Total lie.

“Mhm, sure thing, sugar,” he smiled to himself knowingly.

“Oh yeah? If your endearing comments affect me so much, what’re you gonna do about it?” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Well, I would most likely ask you out but being that you fail to acknowledge any of my advances on you, I’m sure it would just go over your head and you’d think it’d be a friendly hang out.”

“Pfft, as if!” You rebuke stubbornly, furrowing your brows.

“Bowling last week? That was supposed to be a date...And then you invited Felix,” Jisung trailed off with a knowing head tilt.

Oh.

“W-wait, you’ve been asking me out this whole time?”

Noticing your look of pure shock, Jisung threw his head back to laugh and smacked his forehead. “To think I thought you were just playing hard to get and it’s just that you are indeed blind.”

“Hey!” You whined uncrossing your arms to throw them up, “I was out here thinking you were just so flirty by nature! You know, part of your whole charm package. I didn’t actually think you wanted to date me.”

“Well, I do, so now here I am being as clear as possible: Y/N would you like to go out with me?”

“Well, duh. I wouldn’t have stuck around such an annoying dude for so long if I didn’t have feelings for him,” you smile coyly, finally accepting the blush heating your cheeks.

“Hey, I am not annoying. I’m charming and kind of clingy sometimes. But NOT annoying!” He grinned, beginning to walk backwards away from your building. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You hummed in agreement before calling out, “You know I actually kind of hated you when we first met? You were too happy and it messed with my ‘don’t care’ aura.”

“Yeah, you made that a bit obvious. It was more the reason to be your friend and bug you though,” he called back before giving you a final wave.

You thought consuming too much caffeine was the only cause of jitters but the race of your heartbeat told you maybe it wasn’t just coffee; perhaps it was some annoying barista who snuck his way under your arm and into your life.

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mediocrity-at-best · 4 years ago

Text

The Bones of a Miracle

TBOM Masterlist || AO3 [[Previous Chapter]] || [[Next Chapter]]

Chapter 2: Trying To Choose Which Way To Go

Summary: Roman Pyre is called upon to retrieve the missing Crown Prince by the rulers of Aerewadal, one of the strongest kindgoms in the world. He takes the job with the promise of more money than he could ever hope to spend and finally, at long last, peace. How hard could it be to find one Prince? Turns out, not that hard. But bringing him back and getting paid? That’s another problem entirely.

Words: 3,124

Remus can't move his leg.

He's been trying for the better part of an hour, while still pretending to be asleep so the swampwitch wouldn't know he's woken and won't see their untimely death coming at Remus' hands. Unfortunately, that plan is seeming less and less likely because his leg won't move, but there is an ache starting to build in his joints, like he'd taken a bad landing.

"Are you going to get up?" The swampwitch asks, back still to Remus. Remus lets out a particularly loud snore, but the swampwitch merely sighs. "I know that you've been trying to move for nearly an hour now. You may as well just admit that you're awake and ask why you can't."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Remus answers dutifully. "But since you're offering, we can have a conversation while I'm asleep." He forces himself into a sitting position and tilts his head around to crack his neck. The swampwitch shudders from their station at what looked like a sink and finally turns to face Remus.

"This is not how sleep talking works," they say. Remus shrugs.

"Maybe not for you. I've done this my whole life. Once, I stole a dragon from the aerie and didn't even realize it had happened until I woke up on fire."

"I find that...highly unlikely." The swampwitch examines Remus. "Regardless, I am sure you have queries for me, and I will endeavour to answer what I can to the best of my ability. Let's begin."

"Why is your hair doing that?" he asks. They stiffen slightly and run their hands through their hair, as though checking for something. Finding only the blond strands on their head, they furrow their brow in confusion.

"My hair is not doing anything," they say.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure it is. Look." Remus grabs a piece of his own curly hair and drops it. Then he points at the swampwitch. "Your hair is sticking out like you rubbed your head in dragon shit."

The swampwitch sputters. "I assure you, I have done no such thing." But they do pat their hair again.

"Whatever." He watches as the swampwitch comes to stand in front of him. "What's your name?"

"You may call me...Star," the swampwitch says. "He/him pronouns are preferred. And you?"

"Remus," Remus says. "I've been called a he and a him since I was born."

"You do realize that if I were Fae, you would have just given me your name, don't you." Star's voice is completely monotone, despite the statement being phrased like a question.

"I've always wondered what those kinky fuckers would want to do with me," Remus says. he grins. Star doesn't return the gesture. "What's in the jar?" Remus asks, launching himself off the bed with only the use of one leg. He snatches at a jar full of a slimey, acid-green substance and tilts it over his hand. It doesn't fall out, but Star does make an interesting noise and yanks the jar out of his hand.

"That is poison that is absorbed through the skin, you abosulte moron," he says, glaring. Remus positively cackles.

"Spicey."

"It is not!" Star shouts, cradling the poison to his chest like a kid. Remus thinks this may just be his sort of person.

"So you've eaten it?"

"No!"

"Then how do you know it's not?"

"I-you-AUGH!" Star reaches back blindly and chucks a book at Remus. Remus takes it full in the face and collapses back against the wall.

"Harder, daddy," he says, wriggling his hips. Star stares, open-mouthed and not speaking. Then, he spins on a heel and walks right out the door. Remus laughs loudly after him.

Star is gone for one minute, two, three four five, and by the time he finally returns home, Remus has managed to break three different knives in an attempt to get the weird, oddly thick thing off of his leg.

"What are you doing?" Star says, voice pitching unevenly.

"This is why I can't move my leg," Remus says, as though it's obvious. "So I'm getting rid of it." He says. As thought it's. Obvious.

"That is the only thing keeping you from being in unbearable agony," Star says, "and also the only thing that will ensure your leg heals correctly. Stop trying to remove it before you put hours of valuable spellwork to waste."

"Aw, you did all that for me?" Remus asks, voice high and shrieky. Star winces.

"You know what, I am about to remove it myself. Perhaps you shattered your ankle by design of some Deity and the pain was meant to be your punishment for existing. And now my punishment for helping you is having to put up with you."

"People have said that I'm a handful," Remus says, nodding. He glances around until he sees another knife. "Ooh!" He goes for it, intent on getting the shit off his leg, but Star interrupts him and manhandles him back to the couch. Remus glares at him.

"If you take off the cast, all of the spells I performed to ensure a quick and correct recovery will also come off, and then you will be stuck here for months until your leg has healed enough naturally for you to go back to wherever it is you came from and let your family know that you're not dead." He grabs Remus' hands and roughly shoves them onto the bed. "Now, refrain from what you're doing and allow yourself to heal in a timely manner."

"I never did like deadlines," Remus muses and, with one last stab, cracks the white stuff off of his leg. He howls when it comes off, like a rabid animal, and Star rushes over to him, fingers already sparking with the beginnings of a spell.

Finally, finally, the pain stops. Remus examines the now green thing on his leg. It is somehow even bulkier than the last one. It is also glowing faintly.

"For the love of Penelope, just stop," Star exclaims, smacking Remus' hand away again.

"Penelope?" Remus asks.

"The deity of healing, among other things. They're one of the Old Deities. They've fallen out of common knowledge now, but their presence is still here, among us and impacting nearly everything."

"Huh," Remus says. "I've never heard of that one."

"I'm not surprised," Star says, clear dismissal in his tone. Remus makes the executive decision to ignore it. Many people have tried to dismiss him; they all found out one way or another that nobody dismissed Remus except for Remus.

"What else is Penelope the ruler of?"

Star's eyes practically light up. "They are the Deity of Faith, Healing, Being Found, and New Beginnings. Some scriptures also inidicate they may have had a hand in the growing of commonly found medicinal plants, as well as healthy growth, though the scrolls are old and in many cases barely legible." Star pauses. "I did get to see one, once. At a very old library. It was...enchanting."

There's a lull, and Remus can see that Star is probably done talking unless Remus continues the conversation.

"So, what even is this thing?" Remus asks, poking at the glowing green.

"I call it a cast," Star says. "It is a combination of hardened bandages, different herbs to keep the wound clean and mitigate pain, and my own spellwork to ensure proper, enhanced healing."

"Fancy," Remus says.

"I suppose." Star preens.

"How long have I been here?" Remus asks. That's the important question. There are some time sensitive tasks he has to complete, as well as some pesky people following him that he needs to make sure can't find him. The longer he stays, the harder both of those things will be.

"A couple of days. I kept you asleep through the worst of the pain."

"Well," Remus says, "thanks for everything, but I have to go."

"What?" Star demands. "You can't even walk. Where are you going to go?"

"An adventure," Remus says. He hops up again, this time to Star's disbelieving, outraged face, and staggers toward the door. Star grabs his arm.

"No-"

"Let go of my arm, swampwitch," Remus cries, trying to wrench away, only succeeding in losing his footing and falling flat on his ass.

"Swamp-swampwitch?" Star sputters. His mouth forms a thin line, his face reddens, and his eyes begin to glow a faint, deep blue. "I am not a swampwitch. I am a wizard." His voice drops dramatically, and Remus can feel the magic rolling off of him in waves, like slime coating his skin. "I am the wizard that is healing your wounds, and I am the reason that you are not a corpse being picked over by woodland animals. You will stay with me until such a time that your leg has healed and you can walk, at which point you will leave my home and never return to it. Do you understand?"

Remus nods mutely.

"Good." Star's eyes stop glowing, his skin goes back to its almost transulent paleness, the magical feel in the air disappears, and the sparks of magic zinging off of him begin to dissipate into the air. "I expect fair compensation from your family for having healed and put up with you, in addition to saving your life. Now, until you are in a state fit to make the journey back to your home to repay me for my kindness, you will stay here and mind. Your. Manners."

Star drags Remus up from the ground by the arm he still had a grip on and practically throws him into the bed.

"That was hot," Remus tells him, eyes wide. He's never seen somebody with magic like that before, and to be so affected by Star's emotions is dangerous.

Remus is going to piss him off.

Star's face goes red again, but this in a flustered way, and he shoots away from Remus. "Ah, well, just. Behave yourself and stop trying to sabotage my efforts to ensure your recovery is swift." He tries to look stern, but the blush all over his face just makes him look like someone playing at teacher. Remus grins.

"Sure thing," he says. Star turns away, and Remus decides his stay here might be very fun after all. He goes to speak again, to ask after food (perhaps that jar of slime he'd had earlier. It looked spicy. Remus wants to know if it is spicy.) but there's a knock on the door.

Star throws a hand out, indicating that Remus should stay quiet. "Who's at the door?" Remus asks anyway.

"I don't know. Some people find me to get help, some people find me for...less savory reasons. They could be here for any number of things." Star takes a hesitant step toward the door. Magic crackles at his fingertips again. Remus' eyes light up.

"I hope it's somebody who wants to gut you," he says, practically vibrating at the thought.

"Excuse me?" Star chokes, jolting to face him.

"Then you'll have to kill them," Remus says, still grinning. With magic, he doesn't say, because he knows that it's not always wise to lay all your cards on the table.

Star sighs, shakes his head, and then turns back toward the door. "Stay there," he commands. Remus settles in to watch whatever show is about to go down. Star throws the door open.

"Hi," says the person on the other side. "I seem to have gotten lost in the woods. Could you help me?"

And, well, that's really not what Remus had been hoping for.

~~~~~

Groaning, Roman very nearly throws the trap back to the ground in frustration. This is the fourth trap he'd set for rabbits, and it was the fourth trap that he's opened this morning to find empty. Something is setting off all of the traps he's set to find food, but somehow managing to leave no food or trace of whatever it is behind. At this rate, he'll have to stop off in a town to buy food, which is exactly the last thing he wants to do. More isolated towns like the few he'll find in and around Wudour Forest aren't known for being the kindest to travelers.

Drukha, from her spot near his bedroll, snorts at him. Though it's been two days since he left the castle, and one more day of traveling only through the forest, Drukha had yet to warm up to him at all. In fact, it rather seems as though she's becoming less trusting, unless she considers prancing away fromhim every time he approaches to tie his pack onto her saddle an appropriate greeting.

"Stubborn horse," he says, sending her a glare. She chomps at nothing, large teeth on full display. Roman chomps back and Drukha rears up, whinnying.

"Over-dramatic beast," he mutters, and Drukha turns her back to him. Would the Monarch have sent him with a hellsfoot for a companion? Surely not. Surely they wanted Roman to find their son as quickly as possible, and sending him with an animals overloaded with dark magic would do nothing to accomplish that goal. But it was the only true explanation Roman can think of. Sometimes it sounds like she's talking about him under her breath! That's not something a normal horse can do, but a hellsfoot? Well, it certainly isn't outside the realm of possibility.

Roman gathers up all of his supplies and makes quick work of getting Drukha ready for another day long trek into the forest. She seems just as excited about the notion of more trees and nothing but trees as Roman does. At least they'll be miserable together.

"It's what you deserve, cretin," Roman tells her and narrowly avoids a bite to his leg. "You'd think a horse would have better instincts than you do." She kicks one of her legs back and Roman makes a rude gesture back at her. He grabs the reins and tugs slightly, trying to urge her to keep heading East with him. Drukha snorts and shakes her head, mane flying all over the place.

"I'd just as soon leave you, too," Roman says. "But you were lent to me, and you must see this quest to its end, so come on." He digs his heels in and tugs, but Drukha stays right where she is.

It takes ten minute for Roman, panting and mud splattered, to admit he might have to find another way around this obstacle than going straight through.

"If I let go of the reins, will you at least follow me?" Roman demands. Drukha tosses her head but doesn't try to pull away. "You better not run, beast," Roman tells her. He drops the reins and moves ten paces east. After a moment of hesitation, Drukha begins walking forward.

Roman sighs. "Thank Basil." A branch somewhere above him creaks, and it sounds almost like a laugh. Can't he catch a break? First no relaxing after a hard job, then a horse that hates him, and now being mocked by trees? Could this trip be any more unfortunate?

As rain starts falling from the sky and Drukha tears a chunk out of the hood of Roman's coat, Roman violently curses Della and Basil, Goddess of unfortunate weather and God of animals respectively.

This is going to be one long trip.

Long trip may have been an understatement.

The rain had finally stopped, but now the ground is entirely mud and sopping wet plant matter - which doesn't even make sense with the amount that it rained! It shouldn't be this wet! Damp, sure, that would make sense, but Roman is in a forest where there are trees that catch a lot of the water! The ground should not be sucking them in like the quick sand pits in the Tharene Desert!

It feels like it's been hours since the rain had stopped, but checking his pocket watch reveals that it's actually only been about an hour and a half. Roman wants to scream with frustration. He is going to miss so much that he had been desperately looking forward to, and now there is this. This soul-sucking mud and an angry horse and his clothes are wet and he's uncomfortable and-

And once he finds this stupid, arrogant royal offspring, he is home free. He will never have to take another job again, and he'll be comfortable for the rest of his life.

He just needs to find this prince. He's good at evading the royal guard, but Roman isn't the royal guard. Roman has been trained by some of the best trackers on the continent, and there is no way the prince will be able to keep from leaving the traces someone trained by the Fae would look for.

Drukha whinnies and rears onto her hind legs, splattering Roman with mud.

"You know," he starts, but then stops. It's not like the horse will understand him or care. Damn horses and their stupid aversion to all things Fae-like.

Angry, tired, and in need of a break, Roman stops where he is, climbs a tree for a dry-ish spot to sit, and takes his lunch. There's an apple, and some meat left from the last trap he laid that had caught anything. He doesn't eat much; he'll try hunting again tonight, but if nothing comes of it, he'll be forced to stop at a town for food, and he will stave off that possibility as long as he can.

Then again, there are other kinds of traps one can lay. The kinds of traps with much bigger prey.

Whistling to himself, finding his mood rather suddenly lifted, Roman hops out of the tree. He doesn't try to pat Drukha, though he's feeling good enough now that he might have considered it. Instead, he just keeps whistling, a jaunty little tune that he heard in the first human village in Aerewadal that he lived in. It's been one of his favorite songs since he had heard it.

Roman takes a few things out of the saddle bag and quickly goes to work with his plan. An hour later, and Roman packs all of his supplies away and begins walking.

"Come along, Drukha," he says. He feels the side-eye the horse gives him, and he doesn't even care that she's being so wilfully suspicious of him. He just begins leading her farther east, and though it takes longer than it did the first time, Drukha follows.

Roman will follow the prince's path through the woods until the sun goes down, at which point he'll set his traps for game - both large and small. He'll be having freshly caught meat for breakfast tomorrow, one way or another.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #tbom #the bones of a miracle #tbom au #fantasty au #chapter 2 #tbom ch 2 #fanfic #my writing

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