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merakiui · 3 years

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Half-Off Love

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader art credit - kentasha1236 on twt cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, gold-digging, implied yandere!childe note - thank you so much for 600 followers! o(≧∇≦o) I’ll work hard!

It’s strange. There’s no other adjective to describe the situation you’ve found yourself in.

The ring slides itself onto your steady finger and it’s a miracle your discomfort doesn’t show. Your eyes struggle to meet his, but when they do you’re searching for a reason—for a meaning behind such a generous gift. You’ve witnessed this scene plenty of times before, having scoffed at the couples who decide to take their relationship to the next level. Whether it be in Mondstadt or Liyue, you’ve watched your fair share of angelic proposals. Although this is far from a proposal—at least, you hope it’s not a proposal. You’d feel powerless to decline if Scaramouche put you in such a position, and you’re almost certain he’s aware of this.

But the main thing—you now realize—that’s holding him back is your status and his relationship with you. It’s nothing special, just mere physical attraction rather than the emotional hindrances that come with real, heart-racing love. There’s nothing wholesome in the way you regard one another; it’s just sex.

“Do you like it? I made sure to find only the highest quality gemstone for you.”

And yet when he performs this caring charade, it doesn’t feel like loveless copulation.

Ew, you think, plastering a smile to your face. Since when was Scaramouche so concerned with materialistic signs of affection? He’s far from loving; he’s just pent-up, frustrated from his rigorous job as a Harbinger and so he decides to use you as a means of coping. He almost sounds like Childe with his ineffective flirting methods. You’ve received your fair share of spoils from him as well, and you’ve done everything you could to cull that relationship before it grew out of hand. But now you’re stuck with the lesser side of the coin: another troublesome Fatui Harbinger.

If you didn’t know any better, you might think to chase after Signora or Dottore next. Maybe you’ll aim for the Tsaritsa Herself if you’re especially daring. After all, your life has been nothing but deceit and faux pleasures; there’s little value to a liar’s life. If the Archons wish for your swift end, you’re positive it’ll be a result of your insatiable greed.

“It’s lovely. The color matches my eyes.”

It doesn’t, but you lie about it anyways. And he looks pleased to hear your approval.

“Then perhaps I should get you a bracelet as well? Or would you prefer something with a little more use, such as a pocket watch?”

Why don’t you just lock me up with a collar instead? you think bitterly, already keen on pawning the ring off once the initial luster fades. Since you’re so eager to buy these things for me in hopes that I’ll return. It’s annoying.

“This is more than enough. I don’t want you to spend a fortune on me.” There’s a sweet lilt in your voice as your hand cups his cheek, and he leans into your warm touch, starved of the affection like a stray mutt. ”I only need you per our agreement. You do remember what that is, right?”

He’d be caught dead bending to the desires of someone so insignificant, but he just can’t stay away. Not when your every word is intoxicating poison he’ll readily ingest.

“I’m aware." There’s a sigh in his tone as he pulls away, almost as if he wants to simply sit there and indulge in playful conversation. As if he actually wants to familiarize himself with the real you. But that emotion doesn’t last for long and an irritated expression crawls onto his handsome face as he silently recalls something.

You’re slipping your silks off with grace, curiously tracking his movements. “You look upset. Was it because of what I said?”

“Of course not. You could never upset me.”

Until you get bored of me.

When you cast your robes aside, reaching for Scaramouche’s elaborate outfit, you murmur, “Let me guess. It was that traveler again, wasn’t it? I’m not sure why you’re so hung up on them.” A whimper leaks into your voice and you fix him with a pout. “I’m sad you’d think of others when I’m right here. Aren’t I the only one you need?”

It’s ironic how quickly that line hooks him, dragging him up from the murkiest depths of love that has skewed into obsession. When you tried it out on Childe, he wasn’t so easily swayed. You find their differences to be invigorating. If the arrangement with Childe was still ongoing, you might’ve considered a threesome, if only to wring more glittering treasures out of the both of them. Mora and jewelry galore, it all goes towards your stockpiled savings. And it’s times like these when you’re lucky to have avoided economic business with the Fatui. Being free of Fatui debt has its perks, a bright miracle in your dark relationships. That’s one less tether to Scaramouche and one less reason to cling to him after you’ve had enough.

He smirks at your forced envy, easily pushing you backwards onto the plush mattress once he’s fully undressed. For a brief moment, he pictures your pliant body sprawled across an office desk while he pounds into you from behind, putting on a lewd show for his leering underlings. There’s something arousing about your secret relationship that has strange ideas formulating within his head. He entertains a simple scheme, one in which he’d shed light on your connection; however, the other side of him wants to keep your existence for himself, where no one will disturb the two of you in your pleasurable endeavors.

Perhaps you would truly belong to him if he were to expose you for the fraud you really are. Oh, the joy of trapping an unsuspecting rat in a corner, with no way out but into his open arms. You’ll hardly have any semblance of a choice, but he knows you’ll choose the option that guarantees another chance at life.

Scaramouche thinks about that as he revels in soft, tantalizing foreplay. He knows you aren’t as dedicated to this relationship as he is and he’s almost certain you’ve got others waiting for you in different parts of Teyvat. He’s just another plaything you’ve picked up for the fun of it. And in these moments where you surrender to his touch, your back arching with avaricious thoughts, you seem to forget about the power he truly wields. The thought that he could suffocate you in this very bed with his love alone should have you taking precautions to cover your vulnerability, but you only have your eyes set on one thing—not exactly minding the outcome so long as it’s monetarily favorable.

And if playing into your covetous hands ensures your weekly arrival, he’ll gladly empty his pockets of spare change.

You don’t like this new side of him. Lately he’s been treating this as if the two of you are lovers: slow, sensual thrusts accompanied with the sweetest of promises. You’ve never really minded the filth he’d moan in your ear and now you wish he’d resort to that instead. Loveless words spoken through the veil of lust—that’s what you want to hear.

He envelops you like a smothering fog, fitting himself snugly inside of your tight hole in an embrace that’s oh so familiar. You aren’t used to such gentle treatment and as he kisses along your collarbone you feel yourself going under, having fallen victim to a Harbinger who is normally so cold-hearted. Perhaps he’s more sensitive than you originally thought. Months ago, you wouldn’t have imagined your relationship would grow into something so uncertain, where emotionless love becomes packaged and bogged down with so much feeling.

His lips ghost over yours and there’s a slight pause in his actions. You turn your head to the side, denying his choking affection before it can drag you further into a spiraling abyss of regret. Annoyance swells in his hazy gaze, but he uses your new position to his advantage.

“It’s cute,” he says in a hushed voice, breath tickling your ear, “how you seem to rid yourself of my gifts as soon as they fall into your hands. I wonder where they’ve gone. Into the harbor? Traded off for food and shelter? Do tell me.”

When his grip on your hip tightens to a threatening degree, you resign yourself, opting to hold your tongue as his pace remains brutally slow. Rather than speaking out of line, you raise your hand to his face, and he clasps your wrist in a forceful hold.

The look in his eyes is far from loving—it’s that same obsessed expression Childe wore. And even if he still searches for you for reasons other than sex, you’re aware there’s no luck where Scaramouche is concerned. You can run from Childe because he’ll allow it—because he adores the chase—but Scaramouche hardly finds delight in a game of cat and mouse. You should’ve expected this. After all, he is just as conniving as the rest, always inventing new ways to track down and eradicate that peculiar traveler. Of course he would know about how you handle his presents when he isn’t looking because there’s no denying the stern gazes that would pierce through your backside whenever you went to the market.

"I’d never throw them out like that...” you mumble through another soft moan, hoping he’ll just pick up the pace and be done with you. “Your gifts are priceless.”

And yet the price for your own love is so hefty. If he weren’t Fatui, it might be enough to throw him into lifelong debt.

“Is that so? You seem to put a price on them whenever you visit the marketplace.” His fingers grip your chin, forcing you into an inescapable eye contact. “If you enjoy putting prices on items that you claim are priceless, you won’t mind if I collect a refund for your dishonesty.”

“A...refund?”

Your lustful thoughts evaporate once you realize his pace has become horribly slow, his dick stilling and creating an itch of barely noticeable ecstasy. You wiggle your hips to increase the friction, wanting to get yourself off before his words can sour the mood. Though it’s already spoiled when you recognize the carnal victory shining in his twisted smirk. Your unfortunate fate was sealed the moment you welcomed his company with foolish openness, and you’ve been indebted ever since he decided to spoil you with lavish foods and accessories.

For love that is far from cheap, interest must be paid and your very being makes for the perfect bargain.

It’s weird when he kisses you on your lips rather than on the parts of your body that are normally obscured with delicate cloth. And it’s even weirder when that metaphorical collar binds your throat in a vice. It’s more harrowing than any sort of debt you might’ve garnered and it’s just as inconvenient as his boyish adoration.

Scaramouche doesn’t have to purchase your flimsy, half-off love when it’s already prepackaged and ready for the taking.

“You heard me. A refund is hardly enough punishment for a lying brat, but it will have to suffice for now.”

For now.

Spurred on by his own insinuating threats, he seeks to bruise your very insides with thrusts that are filled with physical vexation rather than the emotional ministrations from before. And since you’re so accustomed to him, your greedy hole eagerly welcomes him.

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact lemon #scaramouche lemon #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin impact scaramouche #n/sfw #i'd like to write a part two #please enable me orz

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chimchimsauce · 3 years

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Fairest

Is beauty a blessing or a curse? All of her life, princess YN was told that her beauty was the greatest gift her late mother ever gave her. But when her looks attract a man cruel and bloodthirsty, YN begins to think that her greatest asset is the beginning of her demise.

“Checkmate.”

YN cannot help the grin that spreads across her face as she utters the word, watching as her older brother groans with disdain.

“You always win!” he complains, acting very much like a child.

“That’s because you always get too caught up in the current move, dear brother. The future decisions are the most important ones.”

YN’s older brother, first in line to the throne of their small country Ameris, huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Chess is like war. You get too focused on winning battles that cause you to lose the war. I certainly hope that won’t be the case for our kingdom . . .”

YN is only jesting. Her elder brother is an excellent leader and will make a wonderful king. He’s just really impatient with games.

“I’m sure I can beat you next round!” her brother says playfully.

They both know it’s unlikely, but YN clears the board and begins to set up another game. As she’s placing the last pawn, a knock comes at the door. One of her handmaidens opens it, revealing one of their father’s special guards.

YN’s breath catches ever so slightly before she schools her expression back into one of unbothered royalty. It’s always so hard to ignore her secret lover when other people are around, but she knows she must. A relationship between her and her father’s most trusted guard would cause a scandal that would undoubtedly get Wonho’s position revoked. He’s worked his entire life to get good enough for a spot on the King’s royal guard and there’s no way YN would do anything to sabotage that.

“His majesty has requested your presence,” Wonho says, not even looking YN in the eyes.

He’s much better at keeping his emotions in check.

YN’s brother stands, tapping his finger on the chessboard.

“Lucky thing I’m being summoned, or else I would have absolutely destroyed you in this game.”

YN laughs, maybe a little more politely than she would if Wonho wasn’t standing at the door.

“I’m sure of it,” she says, “Feel free to come back anytime to play again.”

YN’s brother nods and leaves her quarters, following after Wonho. Being the heir to the throne means that YN rarely gets to see her brother. He’ll be gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time as he tours the neighboring countries to learn everything he possibly can, as well as maintain a positive relationship with their allies. Ameris may be a small country, but it is located in the perfect spot for transcontinental trade and filled to the brim with valuable resources. One could dig in a mine for just a few moments and emerge with a diamond the size of a robin’s egg.

Thankfully, Ameris has not had any problems with its neighboring countries in hundreds of years. The last war was ended by YN’s great great great grandfather and peace has blanketed the region since then.

Well, for the most part. In the last several years, the Eastern kingdom of Moonbyss has been steadily expanding and taking over small, unclaimed villages. They have not breached any borders or broken any treaties, however, so there is no cause to worry quite yet.

YN sighs as her thoughts shift back to Wonho. Their secret love affair has been going on since they were teenagers. At first, Wonho was just an attractive boy who was willing to indulge her wanton fantasies, but soon enough an affection bloomed between them. It’s so hard to pretend not to be in love with him, especially when he grows more handsome by the day.

“Thinking about him, my lady?” YN’s lady in waiting, Irene, asks her.

Irene is YN’s closest confidant and friend. She knows almost everything about the princess. Ever since she arrived in the castle from abroad two years ago, they have been inseparable.

“Of course,” YN says, standing and walking over to the window that overlooks her private gardens.

She opens the glass door and steps outside, her skin warmed by the sunshine. It’s an absolutely beautiful day, cloudless and blue. Birds chirp sweetly and the scent of flowers wafts on the breeze. The princess stops at the fountain in the middle of the garden, sitting on the bench and looking into the bubbling water. YN often made wishes in this fountain when she was younger, tossing in coins that reflected the sunlight back at her. More recently, though, she’s only wished for one thing - to be with Wonho. Her father, although he loves her, would never allow a union between them. Her older brother, however, has promised to allow YN to marry whoever she desires once he takes the throne on his thirtieth birthday.

He does not know that someone already has her affections, but no matter. YN is not worried about being married off. While her brother is the only prince in the kingdom, the king was blessed with twelve daughters and YN is the youngest. Every available man of power in the kingdom and the surrounding countries have already been wedded.

YN has Irene bring her a book to read and she settles in, getting comfortable in her garden. The hours pass by quickly as she is sucked into the tale, but soon enough a shadow blocks her reading light.

The princess looks up and is shocked to see Wonho standing in front of her. Alarm flares up inside of her. The two of them have agreed to never be seen together in daylight.

“Won-”

“Your Majesty,” Wonho says stiffly, “The King requests an audience. I have been asked to escort you to the throne room.”

YN hesitates a moment. She can tell that something is wrong by the strain in his voice. Something must really be bothering him for the guard to allow it to leak into his words. She wants to ask him what’s wrong, but she never knows who is watching so she simply stands, handing her book off to Irene who stands beside her.

“Very well,” YN says, trailing after him and back into the castle.

He walks three paces in front of her, leaving her to stare at his back. So much about him has changed in the last few years. He’s gained an immense amount of muscle, something that YN has really grown to appreciate during their midnight endeavors. It’s a shame that everything is covered up by his uniform, but she must admit he looks dashing in it.

As they walk, YN notices that Wonho isn’t the only one acting strangely. The various maids and butlers who usually flit around and chatter pleasantly amongst themselves are dead silent, walking with perfectly straight backs and zipped mouths. The princess notices a few pitying looks tossed her way and something cold settles in her stomach.

What’s going on?

Wonho knocks on the throne room’s closed doors. They are ever so carefully opened a few moments later and Wonho leads YN into the grand room.

Her father sits on the throne, a smaller one empty next to him. It always makes YN sad to see her father by himself. The Queen passed away only a year ago and was her father’s closest friend. The late Queen was kind to everyone, even YN’s mother - a poor girl her father discovered in one of his hunting trips. Apparently, YN’s father was so taken with her mother that he simply had to add her to his harem and rarely visited any of his other concubines afterward. But it didn’t last long - YN’s mother died shortly after her birth. Everyone says that she left YN her ethereal beauty, a fact that led YN to being hidden away in the castle for the majority of her life.

“You’re the most valuable diamond in all of Ameris,” her father told her once, “It’s important that few people know of your existence.”

It had saddened YN when she was younger that she could not attend the lavish parties and balls like her elder sisters and brother, but she came not to mind once Wonho came into her life. It mattered not if other people thought she was beautiful - as long as Wonho desired her, that was more than enough.

Standing to her father’s side is YN’s brother. The jolly air that had surrounded him mere hours ago is gone completely now. He looks furious, an expression YN has rarely seen on his face. He’s looking at a man who stands before the throne, a crown placed perfectly on his head.

Visiting nobility?

The man turns as the click of YN’s heels sounds out against the marble flooring. YN’s step falters as a large, nearly terrifying grin spreads across his face. He is incredibly handsome, but the smile on his face does nothing but creepy the princess out.

“There she is,” he says, quickly extending his hand towards her.

YN, uncertain, looks at her father who gives her a stiff nod. Hesitantly, YN places her hand in the stranger’s grasp, making sure to school her expression as he places a cold kiss that lingers too long against her gloved hand. The princess has never been more glad to be wearing gloves.

“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” YN asks, careful to watch her throne.

“King Seokjin Moonbyss, your highness. I must say, the rumors of your beauty do you no justice. You’re much more radiant in person.”

YN’s blood freezes in her veins. This cannot mean anything good.

“Thank you,” YN says, a slight tremble in her voice.

The man has still not released her hand.

“YN,” her father says, giving her an excuse to look away from this man - no, this monster - beside her, “King Seokjin has asked for your hand.”

YN barely squashes the shout of protest that so desperately wants to escape her throat. There’s no way this can be happening! No way! Her eldest brother is just three years shy of taking the throne, three years more of having to tiptoe around with Wonho. No way she can get married, especially to someone from so far away.

“Excuse me,” Wonho says, speaking up from his place behind YN, “I thought King Seokjin was already married.”

Relief flows through YN. If Seokjin is already married, then surely this is an error.

“She failed to provide me with a male heir, so I had her disposed of,” King Seokjin says simply, glaring at Wonho, “Do not question me again.”

There is not a trace of remorse in his voice at all, nothing but anger.

YN begins to tremble.

“Father -” she begins.

“King Seokjin has made us an offer I cannot refuse,” he says, cutting her off, “And besides, YN, you’ll be able to be Queen. You never would have had that opportunity here.”

YN’s father would normally never make this sort of decision, especially not for the daughter he tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Of course, sweet YN,” King Seokjin says, “You are free to reject my offer if you so desire. I would, however, be forced to declare war on Ameris. After all, this country is the most resource rich of all the lands. It’s a shame. It would have been so much nicer to make a positive connection with this beautiful country. I wonder how much of its splendor will be left once my troops march through it.”

The threat is crystal clear. YN has to marry this King or her country will suffer for it. YN glances at her father and brother, seeing the fear that’s in their eyes. Ameris is much too small to fight Moonbyss and win, especially since the eastern country has been gaining a lot of territory very rapidly. YN swallows. In a matter of hours, her perfect daydream has been shattered.

“I would be honored to marry you, King Seokjin,” YN says, trying her hardest not to cry.

She can release her tears once she’s in the safety of her own chambers. She cannot show any weakness in front of this man.

“Beautiful and smart,” King Seokjin says, “It will be my honor to have you as my bride. After all, the most handsome man in all the world deserves the most beautiful bride of them all.”

YN never really thought much of her beauty. She’s always heard it was a blessing, the only one her mother ever left her, but right now it feels like a curse.

“I pray that you’ll join me for dinner this evening, my betrothed,” King Seokjin says.

“I would love to,” YN says even though the thought of having to spend even a single moment more in this man’s presence makes her want to hurl.

“You best retire to your quarters, my love. Your father and I have much to discuss before this evening. I’ll send someone for you when I’m ready.”

The dismissal is clear. YN turns swiftly and leaves the room, Wonho following closely behind her. She walks much too fast to be considered ladylike, but she does not give a damn, wanting to be as far away from the throne room as possible.

“YN, wait!” Wonho calls out to her.

He grasps her wrist, uncaring of who will see, and pulls her to his chest. As soon as the warmth of him touches her, YN loses all composure, breaking down and sobbing into his pristine uniform.

“Wonho,” she cries out, grasping him as close as she can, her fingers creasing the silk he wears, “I don’t want to be Queen! I want to marry you!”

YN feels something wet fall against her head. Based on the way his shoulders shake, Wonho is also crying. She hasn’t seen him shed a tear since one of his best friends was murdered on a mission.

“What are we going to do?” YN asks into his chest, her voice muffled, “I don’t think I can bear being apart from you, especially with someone as cruel as the King!”

“We’ll figure something out, YN, I promise,” Wonho says, pulling away just enough to give YN a salty kiss.

“At least once more,” YN says once their lips part, “I must have you at least once more.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Wonho says, pulling her along to her chambers.

The two fall into the sheets, both knowing that this is the last time despite desperately wanting to spend eternity together.

On the other side of the castle, Irene makes her way through the hallways, stopping at a grand door and knocking three times. No one answers, so she swings it open, prepared to wait for as long as it takes.

Maybe half an hour later, King Seokjin opens the door, looking quite pleased with himself. He doesn’t greet Irene, instead instantly walking over to her and pinning her against the wall, his lips meeting hers passionately. Irene barely has any time to catch her breath, but she doesn’t mind at all, too enamored with this man she knows is only using her.

When he was only a prince, Seokjin was infamous for being a womanizer. All too often, he lured servants and noble girls alike into his chambers, whispering promises and pressing kisses against their skin only to leave them abandoned like trash when he grew bored of them. Irene was one of those servant girls, but Seokjin has kept her around for longer than most. A part of Irene is convinced it’s because she’s special to him, but she knows it’s really not true.

Seokjin has been obsessed with YN, the secret twelfth princess of Ameris for five years now. Ever since he spotted her while visiting Ameris with his late father, he wanted her - needed her. After all, she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, trying as he might to find another. His late wife was incredibly beautiful as well, but she didn’t compare to YN. No one else was worthy of her but him. It was YN that drove him to murder his own father and take the throne before he was supposed to. After all, Seokjin has never been a patient man.

Seokjin pulls away from Irene, looking unbothered as ever.

“No good,” he says, “Simply imagining that you’re YN does nothing. I’m tired of waiting.”

His words sting Irene’s heart. She tries not to be bitter, but jealousy is a powerful emotion, one that overshadows the genuine affection she feels for princess YN.

“Well,” the King asks her, “Who is it? The one YN claims to be in love with.”

The King rolls his eyes, gripping his fists tightly. How dare YN love another when he’s already claimed her.

“It’s Wonho,” Irene says, pushing down her feelings, “the guard that accompanied her today.”

“A guard huh? How dare he think he deserves someone as beautiful as YN!” he says, furious.

Seokjin is terrifying when he’s angry. Irene tenses, preparing for the worst. Instead of gripping her hair and tossing her to the floor like he usually does, Seokjin grabs a decorative vase and tosses it against the ground, watching as it shatters into a million pieces.

“You didn’t strike me,” Irene says, shocked.

“I have been practicing,” the King says, “After all, it would be a shame to make a single mark on YN’s perfect body.”

Much too soon, Irene is knocking on YN’s private chamber door.

“Your majesty,” she calls out softly, “Your betrothed has requested your presence.”

YN rolls over to Wonho, tears in her eyes. He blinks them away, wanting to remember this moment clearly.

“One moment,” YN calls out, listening as Irene walks away.

“Run away with me,” YN pleads, her voice desperate.

“You know we can’t,” Wonho says, his eyes sad.

“Yes we can!” YN insists, “You know this country better than anyone. We can get up right now and flee and -”

“YN,” Wonho says, “What about the country? You know we’ll be forced to go to war if you disappear.”

YN sniffles.

“I don’t think I can live without you,” YN confessed, “And if I can, I don’t want to find out.”

Wonho is silent for a moment before he sits up, an idea in his mind.

“What? What is it?” YN asks him.

“What if you didn’t?”

“What?”

“What if you didn’t have to live without me? I’ve heard rumors amongst the staff of a poison you can take that will put you in a deep slumber for a fortnight. If some was mixed into your dinner tonight, it can seem that you’ve been poisoned and passed away. Then when you awake, you and I can disappear together.”

YN brightens. Even though being unconscious for a fortnight doesn’t sound pleasant, anything will be better than having to marry KIng Seokjin. Besides, she trusts Wonho with her life.

“Okay,” YN says, agreeing right away.

“Are you sure, YN?” Wonho asks her, “You will end up getting rather sick for a few days before the slumber.”

YN nods eagerly.

“Yes, anything,” she says.

“Very well.”

Wonho hops out of bed, pulling on his clothes as quickly as he possibly can.

“I’ll get everything ready. YN, go to dinner with the king, alright? I won’t be able to see you after this so as not to arouse suspicion. I love you, princess.”

He leans down to kiss her.

“I love you more,” YN says, watching as Wonho slips out of a glass door and into the gardens.

Unbeknownst to the lovers, King Seokjin is outside the door, his ear pressed against it to hear everything. He had come to escort his beloved like a sweet fiance would, only to hear his to be wife scheming to get away from him.

He’s never been so angry, but he suppressed it, not wanting to let YN know that he’s been here. He grabs Irene by the arm roughly and leads her out into the hallway, bending over to whisper in her ear.

“Make sure to add enough of the poison to YN’s food to keep her under for longer than a fortnight. Put as much of it in as you can without bringing her to the brink of death.”

“Are you sure your -”

Irene’s question is cut off when he backhands her, one of his elegant rings drawing blood.

“Do NOT question me!” he says, “Do as I order!”

Irene rushes off to do as the King says, tears brimming in her eyes. She’s never regretted being Seokjin’s spy until now, too blinded by love. She should have warned YN, should have helped her disappear with Wonho - someone Irene knows truly loves the princess. King Seokjin is just obsessed with her beauty and determined to own her like she’s some sort of object to be bought and sold.

Peeking around the corner, Irene sees Wonho pouring a liquid into the soup bowl meant for the princess. When he leaves and when the coast is clear, Irene snatches the vial from the counter and empties the rest of it into other dishes reserved for the princess before refilling the vial with water and placing it back where Wonho left it.

“YN, I’m so sorry,” she whispers to herself before fleeing into the night, never to be heard from again.

At dinner, YN pretends not to notice the odd taste in her food. It’s obviously been tampered with, but YN doesn’t let it show at all, eating properly and conversing with King Seokjin as much as she can bear. YN misses the look of glee in his eye as he drinks from his goblet, still believing that everything is going to plan.

YN starts feeling ill once the final course comes around. She quickly asks to be excused and King Seokjin offers to walk her back to her room. YN accepts, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to make it on her own with the way the room begins to spin.

For the next three days and nights, YN is in and out of consciousness, the world swirling around her in a nauseating mix of bright colors and fuzzy shapes. When she closes her eyes at midnight of the third day, her thoughts are on Wonho and the fact that the next time she opens them, she’ll be free to be with him.

But YN does not wake up. Not for a fortnight, not ever. Seokjin, furious, intends to find Irene and hang her for murdering his beloved before realizing that she’s nowhere to be found. It’s easy enough to frame Wonho for her murder and a matter of hours after YN dies, Wonho follows her from the gallows.

At his request, YN is preserved and dressed in a wonderful white wedding gown, still looking very much alive. He marries her anyway and has her crowned, determined to have her even in death. She’s too beautiful to be buried underground, so he commissions a glass coffin to display her in, putting her corpse in his bedroom where no one else can see her. King Seokjin finds that he does not mind YN being dead. She’s much less bothersome in passing, much easier to fall to his will.

King Seokjin stands before her, placing his hand flat against the cool glass of her coffin. Even in death, YN is the fairest of them all.

#yandere bts #yandere x reader #kim seokjin x reader #wonho x reader #bts angst #bts oneshot #kim seokjin #seokjin ff

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paimon-rambles · 3 years

Note

Hi! I'd like to request Childe and his s/o getting into a fight/discussion because she is jealous of him and Lumine, it would be great if it ended with fluff 🥺 thank you!

Her

Characters; Childe

Summary- Childe promised to love you always, but sometime changed when Lumine step foot into Liyue

I'm not great at writing arguments so I hope this suffices^~^

Childe was a man of his word, every promise he made he sought to keep it. He never went back on promises or break them, always fulfilling each wish. You could see it whenever he talks about his family, he made numerous promises to his younger brother Teucer and he kept each one.

But Childe also made various promises to you. Vows of love that he will hold you dearly and shower you in affection. Promises to protect you from the Fatui and that no blade would meet your skin and much more. And he never broke any of them. He gives you kisses and cuddles with you regularly and no blade has ever pierced your skin.

Your relationship is built on trust and Childe never showed signs of that trust wavering, the only thing he 'hid' from you was anything regarding the infamous Fatui and their plans, but that was more to protect you than to leave you in the dark. Everything is perfect.

But it wasn't

Formerly you've noticed a shift in his behavior, his attention was prone to something else, and you were puzzled to know who. It didn't take long to find out what was occupying your boyfriend's attention. It was the outlander. The honorary Knight of Mondstadt who quelled Stormterror's attacks on the city. The girl who was in search of her kin. Lumine was it? Her name became quite prominent.

You started to notice how close Childe and Lumine have gotten in the past few days. He even gave her a nickname, well Childe gifted you many nicknames but it'd be a lie if you said you didn't feel the slightest envious of "ojou-chan". In honestly you did feel jealously towards Lumine but you knew she wasn't at fault, she wasn't purposely drawing Childe's attention.

You couldn't quite blame your boyfriend for paying attention towards Lumine either, she was a beauty. Her golden hair always bounced delicately against her shoulder with a step or how the breeze carried her twin tails. Her eyes were golden similar to her hair but carried a darker hue, there was always a glint in her eye as she looked around Liyue Harbor curious to comprehend the city. And the fact that he was an outlander, a traveler who roamed world to world only added to the intrigue.

You did grimace at the thought of your relationship crumbling as you love Childe with all your heart but you also wanted the ginger to be happy. If Lumine is that source of happiness you'll gladly step aside.

But you did not comment on this. After all your relationship is built around trust if Childe wasn't happy with the current predicament he would have voiced his concerns. So you're jealously was hidden within the cage of your emotions, slowly growing each day.

But then you snapped

It happened when Childe's kid brother Teucer made a surpise vist to Liyue. The rascal snuck his way onto a boat and voyayed off away from home. Thankfully he was able to find his way to his brother with the help of Lumine and Paimon. Everything was going fine but it seemed that Teucer had taken a liking towards the blonde enjoying the company of the "nice lady." You didn't mind this too much but what really made your heart shake was seeing the way Childe acted towards her. It left you with an uneasy feeling.

You tried to shake the feeling away and lock it up with the jealously that wishes to paint you green in envy. But each "ojou-chan" that ran off his tongue and each subtle flirt he made towards her only fed your emotions. All masked away behind a smile both fake and real.

" If I could join you on your travels I would, but with the Fatui..." Your heart shook as those words ringed off Childe's tongue. Each word brought a sharp ache to your heart. If his vision would truly make him happy- to travel the world away from the Fatui- what is your place in that dream? Were you still lovers? Or friends.

You kept yourself composed in the situation keeping an eye on Teucer while your lover spoke of his desires to travel the world with Lumine. And you kept quiet. At some point, you both said your goodbyes to Teucer and Lumine.

" Do you...like Lumine?" You mumbled to him, your fingers dancing against the fabrics of your shirt anxiously. You glanced away from the pair of surprised pupils that burned into your features. The blue orbs that you love so much staring into your skull, but a slight playful grin toyed on his lips.

" What are you talking about y/n?" He asked teasingly. But you did not heed to his teasing or playful demeanor. " I mean you the way you act around her. You act like you like her- always hanging around her like a lost puppy- Do you like her!?" You shouted the last question out, and it was finally cleared to Childe that you weren't joking or playing around.

The ginger brows furrowed in surprise, his blue ocean-like eyes burned into you as if you had just insulted him. His lips parted to speak, " y/n, did you get that from?" He asked, his voice was still calm but held heavy restraint to it. His calming tone of voice made you ashamed for snapping at him so harshly but you pushed that thought away. " Then why do you always seem happy when your with her? More than me! Why do you tease her the way you tease me? Why Childe? WHY!?"

You could already see his body tremble with anger as he processed each word that left your sharp mouth. In the corner of your eye, you saw a mere glimpse of his palms turning to those like snow, white, and clumped together tightly. " Lumine is nothing but a friend- I'm only nice to her because of what friends do. Being kind to each other. And I only tease her because it's part of my nature. Y/n you know me, why would I leave you?" Childe responded, highlighting each word and the adding of emphasis made you shiver. The way his teeth slightly gritted together as the ginger grew more peeved at the situation he was posed in.

" BECAUSE YOU SAID IT YOURSELF!" You cried out, your vision was obscured as crystal like bodies of water dripped down against your cheek. You felt a hitch in your throat as it grew harder to breathe and with each second that passed more tears descended from your e/c glossy eyes.

Childe's face morphed into regret as he watched his lover, his best friend, the light to his darkness sob uncontrollably, defenseless and vulnerable. His lips parted to speak but his partner beat him to it.

" w-why did you tell her that you want to travel the world with her?" You finished, the event replayed in your racing mind as you waited for the ginger's answer fearing the worst.

Instead, however, you felt something collide with your body and when your brain finally registered what the source was you couldn't help but sob more as your boyfriend embraced you tightly. His hand, now free from the walls of his fabric gloves gently combs through your hair. " Please don't cry y/n- please let me explain." He whispered, guiding you to the couch to sit down.

You both sat on the couch, you rested your head against his chest each beat of his heart slowly calming your nerves but not enough. You were confused but relieved. " W-what do you mean" you sniffle sheepishly.

" Y/n... I can't talk about the Fatui in fear it'll get you hurt but me being friendly towards Lumine was just part of my work. She has some information that the Fatui labels valuable and since I'm here in Liyue they tasked me to keep an eye on her." He explained, his hands continuing to run through your hair. You processed this information as more questions were raised in your head. " W-what info?"

Childe bit his cheek in thought trying to collect what to say, " Y/n I hate keeping you in the dark but for your safety, I can't discuss that. But I want to assure you that when I said I would travel the world with her was merely a lie, just to gain some trust. But I much rather trade anything if it meant being here with you instead." You thawed in his arms as your tears came to a stop. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, gentle yet filled with passion, before resting his head against yours. The moment lasted like this until both of you were lulled into a deep slumber.

A simple misunderstanding was the cause of this all. Everything was perfect. Childe was sure to keep all his promises. His promises of keeping you safe and feel loved. And Childe has never broken one.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin childe x reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #genshin impact drabble

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wonlouvre · 3 years

Text

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 3.4k WARNINGS: ANGST (i think it’s just minor though), police and prosecution procedures (someone gets arrested).

a/n: disclaimer!! once again, i am in no way well-versed with investigations and trial procedures. please correct me i have made any mistakes. and!! if you noticed, i made revisions at part 7. our boo seungkwan is a prosecutor at the supreme prosecutor’s office instead of the justice department. they’re completely different agencies. anyway, this part will either make or break our couple. please send me what you think!! i hope you enjoy <3

eight: for all the wrong reasons | masterlist

Whatever you’re doing right now would probably go against Seungkwan’s superior’s orders and oath to the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office. But does he care? He doesn’t. Is he scared? He’s not. He never was, unless he’s engaging in something definitely illegal. Well, speaking about a particular case outside the circle of his office in the first place is already illegal. But you are inside and within the office already. Seungkwan will take care of the consequences later

Seungkwan is simple and quick enough to suggest meeting with you at the conference room of their building. He knows you and how much you want to know about this case. This is just a favor he’s returning because he’s grateful that the information you have about the victims made him one step closer to solving and ending this nightmare.

The prosecutor also invited Wonwoo which could only mean that there are matters that involve the neighboring kingdom and that made you worry. It’s already shameful that this is happening within your kingdom’s territory. But to harm the people of the neighboring kingdom is a different kind of shame and disgust. Everything about this is shameful and disgusting.

You could go straight to Their Majesties and talk about this, but the Prime Minister already released a statement earlier this morning to appease the public. After much colorful words and apologies, the Royal Family has pledged to cooperate in any investigation and invitation to the court. If you’re being honest, that’s good to hear. If you’re being a lawyer, that only means someone is guilty.

Seungkwan is currently connecting his laptop to the projector in the background and as he’s about to finish, you can’t help but feel nervous. You were playing with your fingers when Wonwoo placed his hand on yours. He seems to have taken note of your actions whenever you feel a certain way and following that, he seems to finally know how to react to them.

It’s a relief that he’s here even though he shouldn’t have to. More than anyone else, you’re ashamed to be in front of Wonwoo. Ever since you met Jung and Sam, Wonwoo has been nothing but supportive and faithful. Although he has always been, it just got amplified this time around. You ask yourself, if you were to be with someone potentially involved in a crime syndicate, would you stay? Would you believe in them? Would you fight with them?

You also wish you could ask Wonwoo that. But, a big part of you is afraid to know the obvious answer.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks and the squeeze he gives your hand frees your mind from the scary thoughts plaguing it.

You squeeze his hand back and nod. “Yeah. Just a little tired.”

Wonwoo doesn’t press you any further and just nudges the strands of hair that’s been tickling your eyes.

It’s right then Seungkwan clears his throat and takes his stand at the podium. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

You sit up straight and lean your elbows on the desk, all ears for what he has to say.

“Tomorrow, at 12:00 in the afternoon, the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office together with the Justice Department will release a joint statement regarding this case. Today, I will brief you with the findings and facts of the initial investigation because I know we are all curious,” he starts before pressing the next arrow key on his laptop. “After this meeting, however, I won’t be able to disclose to you the developments of this case anymore because a week from now, the first trial will be held.

“I have requested the presence of His Highness, Prince Wonwoo, for this is something that concerns his people,” he continues to flash the next slide, “It has been confirmed by Immigration that the prime suspects and victims are citizens of the neighboring kingdom. The prosecution has already requested to Their Majesties of the neighboring Kingdom to grant us the right to investigate and try the prime suspects within our jurisdiction before we deport them. The request was granted and the prosecution is given 94 days to do what we should and what we can.”

You turn to Wonwoo to gauge his reaction. He meets your eyes and just nods, telling the two of you that the presentation can go on. You bring your attention back to Seungkwan and he proceeds to the next slide.

“According to the orphanage, the victims were adopted earlier this year with complete and legal documents. So we can understand that technically, they weren’t smuggled,” he explains and points at the mentioned documents flashed on the screen. “Right now, we are investigating the following departments: Trade and Industry, Immigration, and Justice. Alongside with that, we are also investigating the orphanage, the Cabinet and,” a brief pause, “the Royal Family.”

The Royal Emblem flashed on the screen and it didn't look as moral as it used to when Seungkwan ended his presentation. You have no basis to make such claims, but you can’t be blamed either. You want to cry and scream because the anger is too much to bear. But you swallow everything and remain silent.

“We understand that Her Highness expressed her desire to represent the victims, however the court cannot allow that,” Seungkwan says regretfully before announcing, “We would like to inform you that you could be summoned one of these days,” he then turns to Wonwoo, “Furthermore, the victims will be interviewed and we ask His Highness to let Social Services take care of them. We respect your attachment and concern for them, but it is of utmost importance that they are in our custody.”

Wonwoo complies with a nod and asks one last question, “Is it confirmed that it’s a violation of the Protection of Children against Abuse, Exploitation and Discrimination Act?”

Seungkwan nods and sighs, dejected. “The prime suspects are making it difficult, but we’re sure that it is.”

“Don’t you have to go back to the hospital today?” You ask Wonwoo while you drape your coat on your office chair.

“I took the day off,” he answers and makes himself comfortable on one of the couches.

You nod and press the on button of your computer. “I’d love you to stay, but I mean it when I say that you won’t have a blast lounging here.”

Wonwoo laughs and the sound of it makes you smile. You watch him lean his head back against the soft cushion and close his eyes. You’re sure he’s thinking about it as much as you do. And it’s only making him even more tired than he already is. You breathe out a sigh and amble your way to take the space beside him.

“Go home and sleep,” you whisper and gingerly tap his cheek.

Wonwoo holds your wrist and nestles his face close to your palm. He opens his eyes shortly after and his gaze has got you blinking in surprise, making him grin. You give his cheek a playful pinch to which he groans against.

You only let go when he sits up straight and turns his body to you. He takes your hands and pulls you closer, your knees touching his. “I’m actually going home, home tonight.”

You stiffen, aware of where this conversation is going. “Oh.”

“My family wants me present as they discuss this whole case,” he says while his fingers stroke the back of your hand. “It won’t be long though. Three days tops.”

You silently nod, keeping your eyes at your intertwined hands. You don’t have any recollection of talking about your engagement ring. It doesn’t have any history with Wonwoo’s ancestors of some sort. But, you know that he chose it with his father. It’s a stainless steel silver band, no diamond visible. But the words for eternity engraved on the inner portion is made of it.

You’re suddenly afraid that the shine is already tarnished and you’d have to remove it.

The two of you don’t need to admit and say everything out loud. But, your engagement is already tested and whatever the court rules is crucial for the survival of your relationship. You’re already uneasy because you don’t see yourself letting go of Wonwoo. You can’t let go of Wonwoo. But now he’s going home and you’re not so confident in what his parents would say.

What if they don’t deem you fit to marry their Crowned Prince anymore?

“I have something to give you.” Wonwoo lets go of your one hand to pull out something from his pocket, making you bring your gaze back at him. He holds it in a fist and flips your other hand with your palm upwards. You were looking into his eyes when something cold met the warmth of your skin.

It’s a necklace.

“A promise of my return,” he says and fold your palms, your turn to hold it in a fist. “I know a lifebuoy doesn’t symbolize that, but you get my point.”

His wit relaxes the tensed atmosphere, making you giggle. “Thank you. I love it.”

Wonwoo regards you with a fond smile and slowly leans close to your face, the tip of his nose bumping against yours before finally pressing a tentative kiss on your lips. One peck, followed by a second and on the third he holds your jaw to continue. Your whole body grows hot as his kisses deepen and you kiss him back with the same fervor. It didn’t take long for him to nip and swipe his tongue at your bottom lip, a plea to allow him to kiss you further. You yield and your heart has never beat so fast.

You clutch the necklace he gave you against his chest while your other hand smooths against his neck. Every day that you’re with Wonwoo, you wish for it to never end. Whenever he holds your hand, keeps you close by an arm around your waist and breathlessly kisses you; you want them always. You want him. You lov---

You stop yourself right there because you’re not ready to take the fall.

At the same time, Wonwoo hesitantly pulls away from your lips but his forehead remains against yours. “Wait for me?” he whispers, lips still grazing yours.

You seal your yes with another kiss.

Jeongyeon holds her breath as she waits for your next question. You called her to your office to have an impromptu quiz game. This is not a traditional occurrence at your law firm but you figured that it wouldn’t be a waste of time to review your paralegal as the case is still on-going and the three day leave of your fiancé ends today.

“According to the Mining Act, foreigners are allowed to invest in mining activities of the kingdom. True or false?”

“I know this!” Jeongyeon shouts and raises her hand, asking for a moment. “False?”

You grin and give her a thumbs up. “Correct!”

“Yes!” She jumps and punches her fist up in the air.

So far, she hasn’t given a single wrong answer and that makes you proud. You watch her dance excitedly around your office when your phone suddenly vibrates inside your pocket. Letting go of your questionnaire, you take it out and the message on the screen brings a smile on your face.

j.ww: will be back tonight. dinner?

: can’t say no to that.

Wonwoo never failed to send you text messages or give you calls the past three days he was gone. They were always brief, but enough to assure you that you’re always on his mind. It’s a little corny for your age, but you can’t deny it gave you a sense of peace and security. It made your heart flutter as well but you’ll never say it out loud.

Finally, he’ll be back tonight. You missed him so much and him not coming back didn’t fail to cross your mind each day. You’re hoping whatever he may have discussed with his parents concluded on a positive note.

“Your Highness?”

When you look up, you didn’t expect a tall man, wearing an all black suit, with sunglasses covering his eyes to greet you. You stand properly and put your phone back inside your coat pocket.

“He didn’t have an appointment,” Jeongyeon sheepishly says. “But he insisted.”

The stranger removes his shades and gives you a smile. “Good day, Your Highness. My name is Kim Mingyu and I wish to seek your legal advice.”

“So Mr. Kim, you want to start a business in our kingdom?”

Kim Mingyu is from the neighboring kingdom who’s apparently rich enough to venture to different kingdoms to expand his business and well, make himself richer. Foreigners are welcomed and allowed to establish their business here so long as they abide by the laws of the land. You have had foreign clients of that kind before, asking how to navigate around without facing legal disputes.

Some are nice and genuine, some are the opposite.

Kim Mingyu seems to be the latter.

Mingyu shakes his head as he sips at the iced water he requested. You can hear the ice cubes crushing as he chews on them and you’re regretting not declining his request for a consultation. This man exudes nothing but conceit and you honestly don’t have the time to stroke his ego. He chugs the whole glass before leaning his arms on the table. Meanwhile, you stayed composed with your back straight even though you’re starting to grow irritated at his actions.

“No, Your Highness,” he answers. “I already have a business here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Then, what do you require my services for?”

He leans back on the chair again and crosses his arms. “I just want to improve it, but in a legal kind of way.”

“Okay,” you say under your breath, unsure if he’s bluffing you or not. “May I ask what’s your business, Mr. Kim?”

“Mining.”

A stunned silence befalls between the two of you. Is he serious?

“Mr. Kim, you have a mining business in this kingdom?” You try to clarify because maybe you heard him wrong.

He gives you a high and mighty nod, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Foreigners are not allowed to engage in mining activities in this kingdom, Mr. Kim,” you remind him, your tone cold.

He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sinister smirk. “It’s not that hard when you have someone powerful allowing it.”

You are numb and in denial.

Kim Mingyu is messing with your head, you try to make excuses to keep yourself sane as you run to the car and tell the driver to head straight to the Royal Residences. You don’t even know who that guy is. You don’t have any confirmation of his identity at all. He’s just stirring you up to get a reaction from you. You can’t be vulnerable and you’ll never be. The only way to do that is to stay rational and ask the people he mentioned yourself.

Your phone is attached to your ear as you wait for Seungkwan to answer. He’s taking rather a while to answer than he used to but it’s okay. You just need to tell him your so-called visitor’s name earlier and maybe he can tell you something, anything, that can ease the growing fear inside your system.

“Your Highness,” he finally answers, just in time when the driver stops at the entryway of the house. You can hear someone shouting from the other line, but you ignore it.

“Seungkwan, do you perhaps know a guy named Kim MIngyu?” You ask and walk your way through the opened and unguarded doors. Odd, you thought, but you ignored it again and continued sprinting to the receiving area. “He was at my office earlier saying some crap about illegal mining, can you loo---”

Handcuffs.

And dozens of men in uniform surrounding your father, The King, made you stop on your tracks.

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me.”

But you can’t because this one man with a piece of paper held by one of his hands is talking to your father.

“His Majesty, King XXX, you are under arrest for aiding and allowing the presence and access of foreign nationals and businesses to the mineral resources of this Kingdom, a violation of the Mining Act of 19xx. You have the right to an attorney and in the event that you don’t, the Kingdom will provide you one. You have the right to remain silent and if you waive your right, anything you say can be used for or against you in court.”

“Y/N?”

You heard what the Royal Police said, loud and clear. You also saw how your father stood up and comply, surrendering his hands to the man holding the handcuffs. When he finally raises his head and meets your eyes, your arm weakens making you drop your phone. Your father shows you a tight smile and quick nod, a false promise that everything will be okay.

You watch, frozen, as they take your father away and all you can hear is the sobs of your mother who couldn’t do anything to save her husband.

The very moment the press took hold of your father’s quiet arrest, it became a mess outside of the residences. News reporters from various broadcasting stations have positioned themselves in front of the camera, making use of your home as their background as they tell the whole nation about the downfall of The King.

Seungkwan’s words were frantic but painfully true. He has informed you that the prime suspects have dropped the names of every public figure involved in their crime and yes, that includes your father. They were able to present strong evidence in a short period of time, turning the tables and causing chaos at the prosecution.

Seungkwan told you to stay put and let the Prime Minister do his job. But he wasn’t able to tell you that everything is under control and that your father may just be falsely accused.

Because he’s not.

You can see from the window that civilians have joined the crowd and they are livid. You haven’t said a word, you haven’t sat down, you haven’t done anything since you arrived. Your mother is inconsolable and all of the crying has exhausted her, making her faint. If it’s a mess outside what more inside this house with nothing but an eerie silence that’s crumbling you down.

Eventually, your family will have to face the people you swore to serve with nothing but honesty. When that time comes, will you even have a face to show? Will you have the strength to see their disappointment and distrust?

What about Wonwoo? What would he think of your father whom he respected? What about his parents who regarded your family with high praises? You tightly gripped on the necklace Wonwoo gave you as you imagined the endless scenarios that could likely end everything. You tightly gripped onto the lifebuoy pendant, holding onto what is left if there’s still at all.

“Your Highness, Prince Wonwoo has arrived.”

Wonwoo looked like he was dragging his whole body from how tired he has been over the past three days. But his pace quickened when he finally saw you. He drops his bag and coat with a resounding thud on the floor and races to meet you halfway and take you in his arms.

His firm embrace swept you off your feet and the only thing that’s helping him to breathe your scent is your arms locked around his neck.

“What did Seungkwan say? I only heard about it on my way here.” Wonwoo removed his arms from your waist and opted to rub your arms who grew limp by your sides.

“He couldn’t disclose the full details,” you answer and your head hangs low in humiliation. “My father will be dethroned and worse, imprisoned.”

Wonwoo couldn’t say anything to comfort or correct you and it’s okay. He wants to but you tell him through your eyes that he doesn’t have to. You have thought about it already. You have accepted your father’s fate and most importantly, the fate of your marriage. Wonwoo and his family doesn’t deserve to be entangled with your family’s disgraceful incompetence and lies.

Maybe you and Wonwoo were betrothed for all the wrong reasons.

So with hot tears streaming down your face and heartbreak tearing you apart, you ask him again.

“Do you really want to marry me Wonwoo?”

#seventeen #wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen imagine #wonwoo imagine #fic: ifliys

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt: Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately. There was something in the atmosphere, almost. It felt… lighter, maybe?

He didn’t like it.

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion. The tendency had saved his life multiple times. Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost. Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with. Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him. Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often. Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha. He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one. Skipped school and everything. The whole high school experience. Ha.

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.

He sighed, heavily. Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding). Stock up on supplies. Get ready to weather a storm. Literal or metaphorical.

But hiding out in the cave was so boring. There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah. Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah. Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts. It was pretty empty around here.

Just like Flynn’s heart.

Ha.

Yeah. That was a good one.

Eh. Life wasn’t so bad. He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time. Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof. Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity. And not having a concussion. Or losing any more teeth.

But, back to his original topic.

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe. Was it directly Flynn’s problem? No. The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.

Flynn recognized that. Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom. But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger. Who knew what could come out of a portal? At least according to the ghosts he talked to. Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.

This was going to suck so much.

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary. Which he had read. Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck. He could take one ghost. Three? Yeah. Not a chance.

Maybe they’d leave? They couldn’t know for sure he was here. With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again. He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either. No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait. They weren’t. Flynn would know. He’d made many unbelievable jokes. They’d never attracted anything but groans.

Ha.

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost. “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.

“We don’t have any choice about her, though. Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out. Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn. Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him. The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago. At least a decade.

But he did scream. Loudly. Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all. He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages. “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.” He examined his fingernails. “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate. Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.” He eyed the eyeballs.

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork. “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn. He adjusted his grip on his staff. “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face. “No. Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby. Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork. He raised an eyebrow. “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip. Hard. Okay. He wasn’t dreaming. And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway? Flynn was nothing. He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands. “Then let us away to the castle.”

Well. That was certainly a castle. Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house. Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.

Or even hole, when compared to all this. Dear god, this place was fancy.

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin. You are not underdressed.

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings. “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost. “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one. I will collect you for dinner in three hours. Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.

… There would be curtains, right? This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.

He opened the door.

Lots of curtains. Lovely.

No, really. It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains. He might be crying.

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft. He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy. Filthy. Covered in years’ worth of grime. He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath. He was craving a human-safe bath. With clean water and soap.

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes? Toothpaste? Unrestrained luxury.

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter. The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.

There was a sink.

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water. Because he made it so, so dirty. He sank into the water, up to his chin.

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause. Because it was always a lost cause. Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available. He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one. Were there ghost dentists? There had to be ghost dentists. They had a lot of teeth. A lot of teeth. Sharp, scary, teeth.

Ugh. His baby cousin was a ghost. He’d probably have teeth like a shark. When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all. Because. Baby. Little, tiny, baby.

Who Flynn barely knew.

Why did he even want Flynn? Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?

Ghosts were weird. Anything could be possible.

He flopped face-first onto the bed. His bed? His temporary and maybe permanent bed. If he was allowed to stay here.

Oh, gosh. Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals. Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.

(Dad? Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed. But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now. He was living in the scariest place out of the world.

Ha.

Yeah.

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe. Oh, boy. Many clothes. He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store. Incredible.

They were so fancy, too. He didn’t know how to choose.

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed. Some of them looked cool. And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet. Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear. Wow. It had been a while.

Okay. The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice. Like, no nap nice.

He wanted to take a nap.

But no nap was occurring.

The bed was too soft. Ugh. This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.

He groaned. He hadn’t thought that was real. He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama. Or something.

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.

Maybe he could sleep here.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover. What cover? Oh. Bed. That was the bed. He was in the room. In the castle. The ghost king’s castle.

His baby cousin’s castle.

He was going to cry. This was so weird.

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand. Which. Might not have been the best of ideas. But, hey, he was dressed now.

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle. Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there. One of his eyebrows went up. “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down. Orange and green went fine together. What was he talking about?

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.

“Come, now. Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back. At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.

He decided not to do that. Running away wasn’t his style.

(Who was he kidding? That was definitely his style. He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing. Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled. “Only the future.” He swung the large, gilded door open.

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates. There were a small group of children beyond it. One of them waved at him. Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #flynn walker #clockwork

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dontloseyourpants · 3 years

Text

Stripped on Stage

A commission I received from @gaystripstories! You can also find him on Twitter here. And you can support him by buying his stories on Amazon here.

I'll out the actual story below the cut. It's about a cocky young Broadway bound hunk who has an embarrassing incident on stage during his big debut. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

Before the Show:

Hey, just wanted to stop by and wish everyone a great show!

A sea of blank faces stared up at him, but he kept plodding on to get the reaction that he desired. Walking further into the crowded dressing room, he finally stopped right behind me.

I miss the camaraderie of being packed down here with everyone… it’s so lonely having that dressing room upstairs all to myself. I usually just spend time before shows lying on my couch until first call.

Looking up, I saw his face forcing itself into what he thought was a genuine smile. For someone who was apparently a much better actor than our poor little show deserved, he really had such a hard time hiding his true emotions.

Roger Stilton had quickly made a name for himself on Broadway. A Julliard grad just like his rich father, he headed straight to Broadway and began booking any role he wanted. With leading man good looks, his slicked back dark hair, and a jawline that could cut steel, Roger actually could have earned his roles without daddy’s donations.

As I continued looking up at him, I realized two things. First, his blush was much too heavy for a theater as small as this one.

Roger, sit down- let me help you out a bit. Quickly standing up in my boxers and undershirt, I let him plop into my chair before wiping a makeup wipe across that beautiful face. Here’s a tip when you’re not sure how strong to make your blush- you have to see what it should be naturally and then add two swipes.

Quickly taking hold of the bottom of his t-shirt, I ripped it over his head to expose that chest to the whole room. His perky pecs and six pack abs were to die over, but for some reason, even with all of that narcissism, he didn’t like showing off his body.

See- that’s the color you want.

I saw his eyes connect with his reflection to see the blush covering his cheeks, and I added a bit of my powder onto his face to match. Grabbing his shirt, he just awkwardly held it in front of him before walking back out of the room with his parting words flung over his shoulder.

Well, let me let you get back to getting ready… I just love having a great ensemble behind me on stage.

I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. At least not for another week. He’d joined our show after workshops, and even if I wouldn’t admit it, he was the reason we’d gotten our residency at our off-Broadway theater. He was already booked for his next role in a few weeks in one of the larger theaters, but if I had anything to do with it, I wanted to put his name in the news for another reason. It was time to confirm the second thing that I realized once Roger walked in here.

Listen up. Every head turned back towards me this time, but unlike Roger, I could tell that they wanted to hear what I had to say. I had a couple of decades on all of the younger actors

around me, and they looked up to me since I’d give them actual advice. We’re a go for tonight. Raise a hand if you’re in.

Smiling to myself as I saw every hand quickly raise into the air, I knew that this would be one show that Roger or the critics in the audience would never forget. I don’t know if Roger knew that we’d picked up on it, but there was a lot of info that he gave away. He was using us as a launch pad for some serious acting cred, and we were using him just as much. And for weeks of workshops and performances, we existed together, but the last month had been different. He’d starters treating us as disposable ensemble members even if the small cast all had named roles. So, tonight, on the most important night of his run, we decided to get back at him. Looking up at the timer on the ceiling above us, I realized that it was almost time for our first phase of the plan.

Act 1:

Look at him- if he wasn’t such a huge ass, he could really be the next big thing. Sorry- all I heard you say was huge ass, and I got distracted.

Playfully slapping Sam on the arm, I kept watching Roger act as we waited for our cue. Our show was a new take on the classic murder mystery, and each night, Roger dramatically died on stage. The twist, the reason that we’d made it out of workshops, was that a new killer was chosen each show. The audience could return night after night and still get a new experience since we improved a lot and only kept core scenes consistent.

This was one scene that was always the same, so Roger felt confident enough to ham it up as he looked at the two women in Row 2: The New Yorker and New York Times. They of course had names, but Roger only knew them as the critics that he needed to impress. And he truly was acting his ass off… and that was quite a challenge. Those dark gray slacks were barely

stretched over that ample peach of a bottom, and I was reminded again that I was happy with the game plan. And as he placed his glass of water back on the table, it was time for round 1.

Natasha and Joslyn entered from stage left as Sam and I appeared from stage right, and in a flurry of motion, we began bombarding him with questions.

Sir, would you like the dinner menu?

Please.

Sir, would you like a wine list?

That’d be delightful.

Sir, would you like your water glass to be topped off?

Certainly.

Bending down, I poured the contents of my pitcher into his glass and across his chest. Oh monsieur, I am so sorry- let’s get you out of those wet clothes immediately.

Patting him down with the hand towel, Sam walked behind him and began unbuttoning Roger’s shirt. In utter shock, Roger just sat there staring at the pitcher that I’d laid down in front of him- the one that looked completely normal. In every other show, a special prop had been used that only held half a cup of water, but tonight, it looked like I’d grabbed the wrong pitcher from the props table accidentally.

There we go- we’ll have this dried and steamed before you even get the dessert menu… not that it looks like you eat dessert often.

He tried to cover his exposed chest as we left stage, but the tiny menu couldn’t cover much. If he pulled it down, he exposed his perky pecs with his dark brown nipples shining under the harsh lights, and if he pulled it up, you could see the happy trail disappearing into his pants. As we all stood offstage in one giggling group, we watched the switch flip over in his head. He

had just made the choice- he could either be embarrassed about being half naked on stage, or he could continue acting so that the critics would write about how he powered through adverse conditions. And he chose the second option… at least for now.

Act 2:

After improving some line about remembering that he had a spare suit in his car, he quickly walked off stage with his muscular back facing the audience. Once he disappeared into the curtain, he began quietly yelling for the prop master, but he was nowhere to be found. Also gone was the random rack of clothes that had been hiding in the wings for decades, so as he rushed around, Roger only had time to grab someone’s suit coat and walk back on stage.

Darling! Is it my birthday already? I thought I wouldn’t get my present until tomorrow.

With her quick change successfully completed unlike her costar, Natasha was in a skin tight dress and now playing Roger’s girlfriend. Walking circles around him, she began to massage his tense body, and it seemed to be having an undesired effect on his lower half.

Can I unwrap my present early?

I’m so sorry love, but the weirdest thing happened at dinner earlier. I had time to grab a spot of food before coming here, and then…

As he began to sit down, the small blazer completely ripped down the middle, and the ruined fabric fell in two pieces down each arm. Natasha was really hamming it up now as she jumped up from the prop bed to kneel in front of her blushing boyfriend.

I was joking before, but what else is about to come off? Did you somehow trade outfits with a stripper?

That time in the gym must have really filled out my shoulders.

Then flex for me, Romeo. Let me see that body that’s all mine.

Doing as told, Roger stood up and began to flex his muscles as he faced the audience. His tanned chest seemed to glow under the lights, and I heard the audience getting into it more now. If there were any repeat customers here, then they knew what normally happened here. Natasha would have her birthday party, and in the commotion, Roger would meet his demise. But that always happened fully clothed.

Roger’s biceps were glistening in sweat, and his trimmed chest hair was as well. He was breathtakingly gorgeous, and if only he wasn’t so cocky, we would have all adored him. As I saw that blush spread further across those beautiful cheekbones, I wondered if there was something more human under there. Just maybe…

Oh, I just can’t resist anymore- come ravish me!

With strength that I didn’t know she had, Natasha pulled Roger towards her as they fell into the throes of passion on top of that bed. The audience was losing it as Natasha’s legs comically kicked into the air before wrapping around Roger’s ample ass. She was kissing him all over as Roger tried to break free for his cue.

Oh honey, that special suit jacket wasn’t the only birthday surprise that I had planned. In fact…

And this is where everything went so, so right. Roger lunged into a standing position without even feeling Natasha’s fingers hook into the two small holes that had come undone on each side of his tearaway pants. I don’t know how he hadn’t noticed earlier that we’d swapped them out before the show, but they’d stayed together right until they were needed.

In comical slow motion, the back half of his pants fell to the floor as the front stayed gripped in her hands.

You got me exactly what I wanted!

As Natasha jumped to meet him, we all started streaming on stage, holding balloons and shooting party streamers into the air. The only one that was still was Roger who was somehow so very, very visible in the middle of all of this chaos. With his pants gone, he was now standing there in only his shoes, his nylon socks held up with leather garters on those strong calves, and an impossibly tiny pair of baby blue bikini briefs that were trying their hardest to stretch over his large frame.

We all took a cue from the audience and focused on Roger as he stood petrified on stage. His hands hung limply at his side, too embarrassed to even move them to cover up his impressive bulge and thick pubes that were showing over the stretched waistband. You could have heard a pin drop in the eerie quiet before one camera flash went off from the audience followed by several more. I saw our one underpaid usher try to stop the cameras, but it was too late.

Finally urged into action as he saw how many photos of him would soon end up online, Roger finally spun around to try to find his pants, his jacket- just anything to cover himself up with. Seeing the bed sheet that had been flung into the floor, he reached to grab it, but I was too quick and stepped onto it to keep him from getting it.

Standing back up, he had rage in his eyes as he looked at me, and he had no idea that even more photos were taken now of him. From the back, his tiny briefs had been wedged between those glorious cheeks, and he was exposing almost every inch of skin that he could.

It was you- you’re the one that did it!

He was about five minutes early with that line, but Roger’s embarrassment had finally taken over his need to impress the critics. That was usually what he said when he discovered who the killer was right before falling to the ground, but now, he was saying it to me even though Joslyn was the one who’d dropped the ‘poison’ into his pasta in the previous scene.

What are you talking about? It’s me- your best friend!

A best friend wouldn’t do this on the most important night of their life!

Reaching forward, he grabbed onto my shirt and yanked it apart. Buttons went flying as my own chest was exposed to the crowd. My mouth was trying to hard not to break into a smirk behind my trimmed salt and pepper beard as I backed away from Roger. Following me back under the lights, he just kept going.

You’ve always been jealous of me- my career, my body, everything! Do you know how hard I’ve fought for this? Do you?

He truly believed the words that he was saying even though he’d never had to go to an open casting call in a crowded building downtown. He’d never had to squeeze into a borrowed pair of LaDucas and dance for hours just to be told that they’d gone in a different direction. Oh no, Roger had never felt rejection like that which is what would make what happened next even sweeter.

He lunged at me, and we fell in a heap on the floor. The audience, even the return viewers, probably had no idea that anything had gone wrong. Everything we’d done had been in character, and only one thing would be able to prove to them that this show had gone off the rails.

Roger’s body was gyrating around on top of me, but he never landed a punch. He wasn’t angry enough for that, but he was too flustered to even know what to do. He couldn’t handle this humiliation, and he was just lashing out. And then, it all stopped. As we tussled, we both heard the pop and froze. It could have been anything, but we both knew exactly what it was.

The Final Bow:

And the award goes to Roger Stilton!

The cameras all swung towards him as he tried to duck down into his seat. This is not how he wanted awards season to go. He had just lost the Best Actor award for his starring role in Thoroughly Modern Millie, and he was about to go to the bar until he heard his name called again. Looking up at the big screen, he saw the category that he didn’t even know that he was nominated for- Best Quick Change.

With the DramaDesk award in hand, the late-night talk show host who had no business being here walked on stage. I was sitting on the side in the cheap seats, but I could still see everything. The last time that I’d seen Roger was when I’d been lying shirtless beneath him. I watched as he sat motionless in his chair, and he only got up once the screen started playing a video from that night.

He was kneeling on top of me, and as we wrestled, the tiny strap on the right side of his bikini briefs popped right off. With his ass aimed right towards the camera, his pendulous cock fell into view between his legs, and he tried to cover himself unsuccessfully with his hands. As he moved, the rest of his underwear fell apart and landed on my chest leaving him completely

naked.

Standing up, he kept spinning around, turning one way and then the other to hide his embarrassment. His hands were clasped over his manhood which left that ass completely exposed. His tight waist made his bubble butt even more impressive, and the untanned skin acted as a beacon for everyone’s eyes and cameras. I’d watched this scene dozens of times from the comfort of my own apartment, but as Roger walked on stage to confront the host, I realized that he probably had tried to forget this ever happened.

When Audra Macdonald won earlier, she serenaded us with a few bars. Roger, what do you plan on showing off to this crowd?

The crowd was going wild, but unlike that fateful night, the crowd was over five times bigger and full of people that Roger wanted to impress. He tried to put on a fake laugh and grab the award, but even from this far away, I could see how strong that blush was as the host kept going.

No seriously, I think we need you to show it off! What does everyone here think?

I let my cheer join the crowd as we egged him on, but he still wasn’t budging. And then, the host looked right at me, and I pinched myself to see if this was all a dream.

Do we need your old costar to come help out? He knows his way around this stage since he’s performed here a few times. Come on up!

The spotlight hit me, and now it was my time to feel a little shy. I’d been a background dancer here in a few awards show opening numbers, but I’d never been up there individually. Would my big break come decades later than it should have?

Stepping on stage, I saw Roger’s heart drop, and my nerves suddenly vanished. He let the host turn him around, and I realized that he was petrified again.

Make me change my mind, Roger. Why shouldn’t I expose you again for how you treated us on that show?

Tommy, please, don’t do it.

I could have been nice and joked around with him as we walked offstage to pretend like this was a planned bit. But, he messed up.

Roger, you didn’t even learn the names of your costars. My name is David- Tommy worked the sound board.

And before he could react, I grabbed onto those tuxedo pants and yanked them to the ground. The button ripped off easily, and they gave me no resistance before sliding down to his ankles. He’d learned his lesson from earlier and was wearing a pair of black trunks, but I still had a little bit of humiliation left to give him. I could and should have stopped there, but I didn’t. Grabbing onto his waistband, I pulled his undies to the floor and stepped back to let him have the spotlight all to himself like he desperately wanted.

His half-naked body was projected onto the big screen again but in real time now. His ample, untanned ass still jutted out from his athletic body, and as he tried to bend down and grab his pants, it jiggled with every movement.

Looking down into the audience, I somehow made eye contact with Jan, the critic that Roger always referred to as The New Yorker sitting not too far from where I’d been seated. As she began typing onto her phone, I realized that Roger would get that big headline after all.

#story

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vake-hunter · 3 years

Text

Fingerking and Devil lore post!

Spoilers for the Parabolan War, Heart’s Desire Endings, Nemesis Endings and Sunless Skies

So what are the Fingerkings anyway?

"We live behind the glass, the Fingerkings. Parabola is ours. If you want free passage of this place," it says, "that comes only from us." It flicks your ankle with the tip of a forked tongue. "Trust that I am the least dangerous of my kind."

It speaks other names. Orts. Boil. A Spire. Be cautious of these beings and places. Show respect, and do not make demands unless you are willing to bargain.

— Dome of Scales, Occupied in Parabola; Fallen London

What about the Devils?

"After the Well of the Wolf," he says, "the Devils could no longer remain in the sight of the Judgements: not if we intended to live. We escaped through Caduceus into Parabola, the place that is not; and from there onward. We were a people in exile. Not strong enough to take a place and hold it for our own. Not weak enough to be welcomed as refugees. It was an intolerable time and I take no pleasure in remembering it."

— Ask him about his memories of Caduceus via The Repentant Devil; Sunless Skies

Hold on, back up, The Well of the Wolf? What happened?

Revolution.

"It was a waste," the Repentant Devil says. "The protests, the peaceful fights and the violent ones. We were never likely to win by those methods."

You wait.

"Control what something consumes," he says, "and you control what it is. The feeding of stars is a delicate art. I had spent centuries in cultivating them, studying their palates, watching for evidence of their responsive growth. I had influence. Now, how much can any Devil say the same?"

— Ask more about rebelling against the Judgements via The Repentant Devil; Sunless Skies

So the Devils and the Fingerkings met in Caduceus.

[...]

The devils swarming into Parabola longed for many things: for souls, for escape, for their own deaths and the things that waited beyond each death. The Fingerkings saw their longing, and welcomed them as food.

The devils were bargainers, contract-writers, enemies of the stars. The Fingerkings saw their nature, and welcomed them as allies.

The devils were hollow, skin-shedders, eternally in chrysalis. The Fingerkings saw their capacity, and welcomed them as salvation.

— Receive the story in the form of cascabel venom via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

The Parlous Knot was the greatest Fingerking-congregation of its time: vast, numerous, indivisibly loyal.

It was the Knot that arranged the treaty. The devils would dwell in Parabola as long as they wished, but one day, they would depart, carrying any Fingerking who wished to possess a devil.

This Fingerking before you is descended from the Parlous Knot; it hatched on the day the bargain was fulfilled.

— Ancestral Stories via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Aeons passed. The devils were in no haste to go. They built furnaces that scarred the land. They traded with Irem; they changed Irem. They searched the mirrors endlessly for a suitable destination in which to hide themselves, but always that goal remained out of reach – until they found the Neath. Until the first person brought the first looking-glass below.

Then they were ready to leave Parabola. Fulfilling their bargain, they opened their mouths to the Fingerkings, offering them transport into the Neath.

But the inside of a devil is too changeable, too corrosive. A Fingerking cannot survive in such a place. The Parlous Knot was dissolved in the gullet of a Grand Devil.

The devils returned alone to the Is, unpossessed, and the Fingerkings remained, trapped without change.

— Ancestral Stories via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Slightly different text of the above from having certain qualities

With Vengeance Nemesis Ending:

Aeons passed. The devils freely used the hospitality of Parabola. They defiled the land; they let the Parlous Knot grow old waiting for them.

At last the day came when the devils were prepared to leave, the moment for them to enter their Hell.

All the Fingerkings gathered, the Parlous Knot first of all. The scales of its snake-cohabitants had faded to silver and grey; the eyes of its members were glazed like marbles. But weary and eager for Being, the Parlous Knot climbed into the gullet of a grand devil–

And expired there in agony. The devils cannot be possessed. They cannot house a Fingerking. They must have known this. They must have traded on it. They must never have intended to honour the bargain.

They must be punished.

They must be followed and punished.

In the name of the Parlous Knot. For the sake of every other who ever accepted a contract with a devil.

With Escape Ending of Heart’s Desire:

Aeons passed. The Fingerkings waited. The devils built furnaces in Parabola, and laid down trade routes. The Fingerkings waited. The devils looked into mirrors, and considered new homes, and did not choose any of them. The Fingerkings waited, though patience is not in their nature.

At last the devils saw the Neath. Their destination was chosen! Their escape was selected!

There were so many devils that every Fingerking alive would have an escape. But as a matter of respect, the first possession was offered to the Parlous Knot, for it had formed the treaty, and it had lived into a great old age in the hope of seeing it fulfilled.

But a grand devil swallowed the Parlous Knot into a pit of corrosion and absence: for there is nothing in a devil that can sustain a Fingerking. The Parlous Knot perished, in the sight of all its descendants, down to the smallest egg. And the devils went laughing into the Neath, and not one Fingerking escaped with them.

With Time Ending of Heart’s Desire:

Aeons passed. The Fingerkings waited. The devils built furnaces in Parabola, and laid down trade routes; looked out of mirrors, and considered new homes; and for generations searched for their new Hell.

When they discovered the Neath at last, the Fingerkings proved unable to possess them. To be swallowed by a devil was death and dissolution. A Fingerking lives on desire, and a devil cannot sustain it. It was the death of the Parlous Knot.

This story is told in venom and fury, but you are able to know the tale without being drawn in. You too have bargained everything for time. You have known the devils' side.

With the Impenitent Devil:

"Make no bargains that you cannot enforce," says the Impenitent Devil, when you have framed your question. "We did not betray the Fingerkings. We upheld our side of the bargain. When we left Parabola, we offered every one the chance to dwell inside a devil. Sadly, they did not find their new homes hospitable. We are not easy to possess. Not, at least, for such insubstantial creatures."

The Fingerking lifts its head to hiss at him. He pays it no mind. "How is it our fault if they did not understand what they asked for?"

He does not say the devils were ignorant. He does not say they made the treaty in good faith. He does not say they believed they could rescue the Fingerkings.

So bargains?

"We always keep our bargains," says the Serpent of the Dome: almost affronted, perhaps, by any suggestion they might not keep a bargain with you.

— Purchase a greater freedom of the place via Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

[...] But this Fingerking is young, small, greedy. It has made its bargain without being ready for the dangers. [...]

— An Illusion, Viewed from the Audience via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

The Fingerking is waiting, wide-jawed, for precisely the correct moment to open Parabola to the audience volunteer. Only the right victim, in the right state of mind, will bargain with a Fingerking, and allow himself to be possessed.

The victim must be at once anxious and bored, eager to be on-stage and sure nothing will happen, jaded with London and wishing against hope for some glimmer of cosmogone.

It is like waiting for the guards to leave their posts; it is like waiting for fruit to ripen on the vine.

But here, the moment's come. The victim's longing is intense, their doubt overpowering. Now, now, precisely now, the Fingerking lets them through the mirror, to the place where all dreams are true…

— An Illusion, Viewed from Behind via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Devils are known for making contracts and being experts of loopholes and law. They are often lawyers and tricksters. They are known to be selfish and dangerous.

Fingerkings do trick people in order to try to possess them, but it is just as dangerous for them as those they are possessing. They have to be strong enough, through feeding off emotions, in order to do this. It also seems the person needs to be willing, even if they are misled. They must agree to the bargain.

Okay but what about roses and honey?

We know Devils tend to roses, they do so all over. The walls of Hell are the only place Exile’s Roses can grow. Prisoner’s Honey is made by Lamplighter Bees who have pollinated these specific roses. The honey takes people to Parabola, where like dreams and glass, they can be led astray by Fingerkings.

Order Serpentine from Knife-and-Candle says that the Devils did this on behalf of the Fingerkings, as a deal where the Fingerkings will give the Devil’s part of what they gain.

…THE LITTLE SNAKE asked the grumpiest bee in both worlds for help. And the bee said, why should I help? And the snake said, I will give you one-fifth of all I gain thereby. So the bee thought, and he said, in a far place there grows a rose. And that rose…

— Order Serpentine, Sorrowful

...THE ROSE, WHICH IS CALLED EXILE'S ROSE, has a property of passage. So shall I brew a honey from its dusts and pollens, and the honey shall be sweet, and it shall bring those who taste it, here to your dwelling. And sometimes they shall stay forever. And the little snake was very pleased with all the new friends the honey brought, but...

— Order Serpentine, Lachrymose

#fallen london #devils #fingerkings #lore #sunless skies #fallen london spoilers #sunless skies spoilers #parabola

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squiggledrop · 4 years

Text

Reforget - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Both Reader and Spencer have feelings for each other. Reader kisses Spencer, but he runs away and ignores her. - Song fic to Reforget by Lauv

Word Count: 3k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff (NSFW, 18+)

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual implications, Crying, Angst, Fluff,

Didn't wanna be a ghost

But you pushed me over and over

Never thought I'd have a vice

Other than you, over and over

It had been three weeks since you and Spencer first kissed, and two weeks and six days since you both decided you were better as friends. Well, since Spencer had decided for the both of you. When it happened, the two of you were walking out of the BAU together, ready to head home. You had had a crush on Spencer since your first day a couple of months ago, and the two of you quickly became good friends. Unbeknownst to you, Spencer also had a crush on you, but was much too insecure to ever act on it. As you made your way to your car, you grabbed Spencer’s arm as he was about to turn and say goodnight. You didn’t know where this spur of confidence came from, but you were running with it. You gave him a peck on the lips, which caused his face to turn into a tomato.

“I’m so sorry”, you blurted out in shock, “I don’t know what I was-”. You were cut off by Spencer cupping your cheeks and placing his mouth back on yours. For the first time in Spencer’s life, his brain couldn’t keep up, and he was on you before he could even process what was happening. The kiss was fueled by passion and the hidden feelings between you both were almost palpable. When you pulled apart you stared into each other’s eyes, full of lust and desire, however, as Spencer finally realized what had just happened, his eyes grew wider and a film of terror masked his face.

“Uh, night”, he stated blankly before darting off. You tried to call out to him, but it was no use as you couldn’t seem to form any words. You stood there in shock. Every emotion coursed through your body. You were terrified because you just kissed Spencer Reid. You were elated because Spencer Reid kissed you back! But, you were crushed because Spencer Reid just kissed you and ran off like it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Left you in the sky with the fire below

Thought I had it right, but I'm still

Lost in the light

As you drove home you replayed the events of the night over, and over again in your head, trying to make sense of what just happened. He kissed you back. That had to mean something.

Spencer rode the subway in silence, just staring out the window, reminiscing how your lips felt on his. He was beating himself up for running away like that, but he couldn’t handle the thought of you rejecting him. When you kissed him his mind went blank and when you pulled away he put his lips right back where they belong. The only problem was, as he was kissing you, your words finally registered in his head: I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. He knew kissing you back was a mistake and he couldn’t bear look you in the eye after you had apologized for kissing him.

When you got home, you looked at the screen of your phone through tear-filled eyes. You made out Spencer’s blurry contact in your texts.

To Spencer: Hey, can we talk about earlier?

Spencer heard his phone buzz and blinked back the tears welling in his eyes. It was a text from you asking to talk. Great, he thought to himself, you probably wanted to apologize again because kissing him was just that horrible. Spencer opted to save himself anymore hurt and ignored your text. He threw his phone on the couch and went to bed.

To Spencer: Can you at least let me know you got home okay?

To Spencer: Spence, please?

The tears streaming down your face became too much, so you decided to just leave him be. Fine, if he wants to be a jerk who just kisses you and runs away then so be it. You left the ball in his court, so it was his move. You had no energy to do anything else.

The only problem was, Spencer was never good at sports, or confrontation for that matter. This led to the two of you not speaking the following morning, or the following two weeks and six days. The team knew something had happened because normally you two were inseparable, but now they were lucky if you could even stay in the same room for more than 30 seconds. You avoided each other, not wanting to be faced with the devastating truth. You came to the conclusion that Spencer’s lack of response was his response. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Spencer on the other hand felt so guilty about ignoring you, but he knew he would break down if you told him kissing him was a mistake, and for a man who relied on facts and statistics, he wasn’t willing to face the truth.

And I don't know what night it is

You're somewhere else, I'm drinking not to guess

It had been three weeks of avoiding each other and the team knew that they had to do something.

“Hey! Why don’t we all go and get drinks!”, Penelope suggested after a taxing case. It had been a long time since the whole team did something fun together, and they thought this way they could get you two drunk enough to finally tell them what was going on.

“I-I don’t really feel like it…”, Spencer said softly as he grabbed his coat and bag.

“Oh come on pretty boy! It’ll be fun!”, Derek said as he patted Spencer on the back.

“I could definitely afford to get wasted”, you huffed, sneaking a glare at Spencer. He avoided your glance and reluctantly agreed to go for a little while.

When you all got to the bar, you and Spencer sat as far away from each other as possible. He slowly sipped on a beer as you, JJ, Emily, and Penelope went to the bar to order. He watched as you downed a line of shots, and he sunk further into his seat.

You did four shots, gaining amazed, and slightly concerned looks from the girls. They knew whatever happened must have been really bad because you clearly wanted to forget everything.

“Whoo! Come on! Let’s dance!”, they couldn’t say no to that, so the four of you made your way to the dance floor. Penelope traded a knowing look at Derek who joined her. Spencer sat and watched as you all danced and jumped around, a light sheen of sweat forming on your forehead. You looked so beautiful and free, he thought to himself, but he quickly pushed the thought away and took a swig of beer.

You wanted so desperately to forget about Spencer, who discarded your entire friendship over one stupid night, but you couldn’t. The way the dim lights outlined his face made your heart race. All you wanted was to kiss him again. You had to do something to get your mind off of him. You thought the alcohol would help, but your intoxicated state was only making your feelings stronger.

Blurry bodies, but you're on my mind

We let it go now I'm full of rum and regret

I go out just so I can reforget

You jumped as you felt a hand on your waist. You turned to see a tall, handsome man with smirking eyes. Normally when in this situation you would tell the guy to fuck off because honestly you were repulsed by any guy who felt the need to grab a random woman’s waist at a bar. However, tonight, you found the unwarranted touch empowering. This is what you needed, you told yourself, some guy to help you forget about Spencer.

Spencer’s eyes grew with anger as he saw the guy, who wasn’t him, dance up against you. He ran his hands all over your body, causing Spencer’s blood to boil. The worst part was that you seemed to be enjoying it. Normally when a guy approaches you at the bar, you find Spencer so he’ll give up and move onto some other girl. You always made Spencer feel special because he knew you trusted him to keep you safe. But now, seeing you grind against that arrogant man, in a way he has never seen you move before, was more than he could handle.

You hated yourself for what you were doing, knowing you would regret it in the morning, but it felt nice to be desired after three weeks of Spencer ignoring you. That’s why, when the guy pressed his lips against yours, you reciprocated will full force.

“Do you want to get out of here?”, he whispered in your ear. You nodded, using all your willpower to not turn around and look at Spencer. He didn’t want you. He made that very clear. Why shouldn’t you go home with this guy? He was hot, a good kisser...not as good as Spencer...No! Stop! This is good. This is what you need.

Spencer felt a single tear roll down his cheek as that man kissed you. The salty taste consumed his mouth as he watched you leave the bar, your hands interlocked. He watched your blurred silhouettes leave as he broke down in tears.

Two more footsteps on the wood floor, but it ain't you

I'm faded so I bring someone home

You opened the door to your apartment and he pushed you up against the wall, tracing your body with kisses. You moaned at the sensation, but when you closed your eyes, all you could see what Spencer.

The guy, whose name you still hadn’t even bothered to find out, began to lift your top, running his fingers on your bare waist. At this, all you could think about was how much you wished that this guy was Spencer. Fuck, you thought, as tears brimmed your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just really tired…”, you said as you pushed the guy off of you.

“Oh, okay”, he forced a smile to hide his disappointment.

You walked to your bedroom, tears running down your cheeks, hoping he would just take the hint and leave. As you closed your bedroom door, you heard your front door close. You laid down on your bed and let yourself do the one thing you wouldn’t let yourself do all night: think about Spencer.

Already paying for tonight

Head spins like a carousel, over and over

Spencer had left not long after you. He made his way back to his apartment, where the only images protruding his brain were of you under that guy and him making you feel the way Spencer wanted to make you feel. He couldn’t get the thought of you moaning some other guy’s name out of his head.

He tried to sleep but it was no use. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was you. That’s it, he thought. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go see you. He looked over at his alarm clock: 3:28 am. Well, at least at this point he wouldn’t interrupt whatever activities the two of you had gotten up to. God, he hoped he wouldn’t walk in on that.

The short drive to your apartment felt like a lifetime. He thought about what he would say, how he would explain himself. He wanted you to know how much you mean to him, even if you didn’t feel the same.

I never thought a sunrise

Could burn more than a midnight without you

You had been trying to sleep for hours, but it was no use. Images of Spencer filled your head. You were still pissed at him for ignoring you for the past few weeks, but to be honest, what hurt more was how empty you felt without him next to you. You missed how he would lay his head on your shoulder when he would fall asleep on the jet after long cases, you missed hearing his laugh every time you made a stupid joke at your desks, but mostly, you just missed talking to your best friend.

Spencer finally made it to your apartment and was relieved to not be greeted with any muffled moans. He stood at your door for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He scrounged up an ounce of courage and put his knuckles to your door.

You jolted up as you heard a knock at your door. Confused, and exhausted from crying, you quickly wiped away your tears and headed for the door. Shock set in as you saw who it was.

When you opened the door, Spencer was met with your red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His hair was more disheveled than normal, like he had been running his hands through it, which he always did when he was overwhelmed on a case.

“What are you doing here?”, you croaked out, annoyance lacing your voice, after a few moments of silence. Spencer looked you up and down and his eyes softened at your current state. His heart twinged at the sight of you so upset. He secretly hoped you were only upset because of him and not because that idiot guy did something to hurt you when he wasn’t there for you.

“I just, I needed to tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that, and I’m sorry”, he paused, waiting for your reaction. When you just stood there, unsure of what to say, he continued, “Are you okay? You-”

“Okay?!”, you cut him off, “Am I okay?! I don’t know Spence! Would you be okay if your best friend ignored you for three weeks just because of one stupid mistake?!” The pain in your voice broke through the anger as you choked back tears. It hurt him to see you in this much pain, especially because of something he did, but, what sent a sharp twinge through his heart, was hearing you admit that it was a mistake. He knew you would regret it. He should never have come. He turned to leave before you could see his own tears forming.

“Oh that’s it! Just leave me again!”, you sobbed. He snapped his head back around.

“Well, I’m sorry! But don’t you get it! I didn’t ignore you just to be a jerk! I can’t stand to look at you without breaking down. I’m- I’m sorry that I love you so much that it physically pains me to know you don’t feel the same.” You just stare at him, your eyes growing wider. “God, (y/n), I’m sorry but you can’t blame me for not wanting to talk to you after you realized kissing me was such a horrible thing. I’m sorry I’m not as hot or good of a dancer as that guy at the bar. And I’m sorry that seeing you leave with him and do who knows what literally kills me inside”, by now Spencer was sobbing. You still couldn’t bring yourself to react, still shocked by what he had said: he loves you.

Spencer let out a sigh and turned to leave again, only this time you grabbed his arm, just like that night three weeks ago, and placed a kiss to his lips. He quickly pulled away, not knowing whether you did it out of pity or to make fun of him.

“Spence…”, you looked into his eyes, “I never said kissing you was a mistake. C’mon, you’re the one who has an eidetic memory”. You expected him to at least let out a chuckle, but he replied sternly.

“You just said that night was a ‘stupid mistake’”, he huffed. Your face softened and you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t mean kissing you was a mistake”, you whispered, “I just-when you left after kissing me, I just-I thought”, you sighed, “I was so confused Spencer, cause that was the best kiss of my entire life, and then when you left and wouldn’t respond to my texts, I just assumed you didn’t want anything to do with me.” When he still didn’t say anything, you asked, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”, he sheepishly asked.

“That you love me”, you said with a small smile. He finally looked you in the eye and mirrored your grin.

“Of course I love you, (y/n)”, he admitted matter of factually. You were about to kiss him again when he backed away and asked, “Wait, what exactly happened between you and that guy from the bar…”

“Oh”, you let out a coy laugh, “Sorry you had to see that… We came back here, but nothing happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much I wished it was you instead of him-”

“Really?”

“Of course… Spence...I love you too. That’s why I kissed you. When I pulled away at first it wasn’t because I was sorry I did it, I just was sorry in case I made you uncomfortable because I- I didn’t want to lose you…”

Spencer stared at you before enveloping you in a hug and wrapping one hand around your waist and the other in your hair. You placed your arms around his shoulders and rubbed your thumb on the back of his neck.

“I promise, you’re never going to lose me again”, he said as he kissed your head. You looked up at him and brought him in for a kiss. This one was just as passionate as the one you shared all those weeks ago, only it was gentler and more sensual. You grasped each other as if your lives depended on it. You continued your kiss as your salty tears mixed with the taste of alcohol in your mouths, but neither of you cared. When you finally broke apart for air, you embraced each other in another hug.

“Let’s go to bed”, you whispered in his ear. Spencer hummed in response and picked you up, earning a loud giggle from you. He put you down on the bed and crawled in with you. He pulled you close to his chest as you placed your face in the crook of his neck. The two of you closed your eyes and were finally able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks, comforted by the presence of one another.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #penelopy garcia #emily prentiss #jj #derek morgan

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papers4me · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket,Se03, Ep 9 (part 1)

“ppl & feelings can’t be bound down”~

What an ep for my girl tohru! She completed her growth thanks to kyo’s rejection. really, It was so hard, cruel, understandable but above all so necessary for her to reach a logical realistic conclusion that “I can love/want things from the bottom of my heart, but at the end I can’t force or bound them to me, I won’t regret loving/wanting them, but I’ll move forward regardless, no more standing still”.

-The fear of being alone:

Aren’t we all? We’re scared to face the word after breaking bonds, changing, not getting what we want, having to start over. Such feelings run deeper into us all. Both tohru & akito were scared to face the word without the old comfortable bond that they got used to:

Tohru realized today, that she cant keep talking to a cold photo, can’t live according to her mom’s expectations, to fulfill her mom’s wishes, can’t narrate her daily life to her mom & fill her life with other ppl’s own issues to distract her self from facing her own loneliness & from looking deeper into what should she do with her life. As she fell in love with kyo, tohru started talking to him! forgetting to inform her mom abt her life’s details, thinking abt what will she do “after graduation?”. As kyo asked in se02, ep2. Graduating highschool is ur mom’s wish, What would u wanna do after?” Tohru didnt have a response of “an after”cuz her mom wasnt there to tell her! Tohru has to choose “the after” herself!!!! “The after” was being with kyo & starting life together! figuring what to do next together! She no longer alone! she found her most precious person!

Except: he cant be with her. Again tohru is scared. What to do now! she wanted a bond but is forced to leave it. Loving kyo was stage 1 to be free from her grief. Moving forward without kyo is stage 2 to learn not to repeat the painful journey again! She didnt let go of her mom & kyo easily. It was hard, scary but she must do it. You must respect their wishes & move on. As scared as she is, there will be sadness & happiness ahead.

Akito realized she cant keep an empty box, cant keep fulfilling her dad’s wishes to “be loved & special” cant bound the zodiacs to her for good. They may love her or not, it doesn't matter, if they wish to leave for whatever reason, she cant force them to stay.

Except now that the zodiacs are leaving, what does she have to live for? who will be with her? she isnt good with strangers? she never met anyone who wasnt forced to obey her & be grateful for her. Strangers cant be forced to love her! what will she do now? stretch you hand for a greeting. Tohru told her, make a friend, they might refuse you, but hey might accept u too, I’ll make it easy, Hi, I;m tohru, whats ur name?

The power of true love: ( reality vs fiction)

In fairy tales, the princess fix the prince. the prince save the princess. The prince kiss the princess, she wakes up & they be happy ever after. Except real life has no prince & princess, You cant always be saved, you cant always save others, pure intense true love cant always be the answer!

Yuki was first when tohru needed physical saving. he saved her twice! Yuki’s nickname in school ”the prince”. Yuki is always cool, thoughtful & kind. Yuki always knew what to say & do! he deserves tohru’s romantic love more than kyo, right? But “ppl & feelings can’t be bound down”~ . Yuki didn't feel this way towards tohru, granted no one (excepts kakeru) knows the reason why he loves her fondly (she’s his mom figure). The official” prince isnt the one for her. Real life isn’t a fairy tale. Yuki has someone who sees he isn’t cool, perfect or a prince “ granted no one knows abt machi, yet! ) XD

In tohru monologue: she didnt think abt saving, that's not why she loves kyo. She stated normal, silly, mundane things! a shy smile, awkward kindness & the likes. Stuff ppl love abt each other in real life. You dont say, I love my husband cuz he saved me from a burning building in the 7th floor! lol. But fiction is so full of this. Princes saving princesses.

Tohru didnt fix kyo, too! as much as her love helped him greatly to find hope, the best writing choice is that tohru’s love also brought despair to kyo! To him, she’s the symbol of hope, peace & comfort! she’s also, the symbol of despair, torment & unease! EPIC! The kyo who’s stuck in the past cant be with her, the kyo who will move beyond trauma, abuse & broken soul will be with her. The duality is all on kyo’s shoulder: what will he choose? Can he choose in his state now?

In fairy tales the princess wakes up after the kiss. In real life, we don't. Tohru didn’t. Regardless if she fainted during or after the kiss. The kiss fixed nothing. Kyo’s despair in seeing near-dead tohru in a not-so-subtle mimic to his nightmare, has manifested itself into the sweetest kiss upon seeing her conscious & talking. Kyo isnt good with words, his actions are his words. When he’s scared, sad, in trauma: running away. when he’s fond of her, grateful for her existence: head knock, head pats, hand holding & a kiss. Still the kiss fixed nothing. Kyo is still traumatized more than ever now. Tohru still feels rejected “even if I’m not with you, plz live”.

Talking fixes everything. It didn’t here, kyo & tohru talked & showed their most vulnerable side to the other, but still didn’t meet half ways, regardless of all the love. That’s cuz they keep missing each other’s best timing. Kyo is stuck in the past while tohru has moved forward. even if in her mind she’s the one who stood & he moved. this shows they aren’t on the same wave yet. Before meeting each other again, kyo must learn from his mistake like tohru did. He must face his ultimate demon: his dad. The one who created the current broken kyo.

Rebelling against parents: ( sign of growth & freedom of choice):

Rebelling against parents is a sign of a desire to choose one’s path, decide one’s own future. Away to express an oppressed desire.

Yuki rebelled against his mom in se02. he told her I’m not going to the college you chose. I’ll chose my path. I’m not staying away from Ayame. My bro is good in my book. I chose who I want to be with. He told her what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.

Tohru rebelled against her mom today. told her I’m not wasting myself doing only what you I think you’ll approve off. You might bot forhet kyo, thats ur choice, But I DO. I love him even if you might not approve of him, Even if he rejected me, my feelings wont change, but I’ll move forward from the grief & pain. mother. She told her what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.

Kyo WILL rebelled against his disgusting dad. He MUST. It is his turn now. He’ll tell him I’m not wasting myself being locked in a cage. I have a future! I’m not a monster. I am LOVED! I might not 100% sure why I’m loved, but the truth cant be hidden. I have ppl who love me! cheer for me! I want to live! enough of death! mom & kyoko died, tohru nearly did, but I’m not gonna die! I’m not killing ME! I’‘ll do what MOM didnt do! I’ll do what YOU couldn't do! I’ll live! He’ll tell him what he needed, turned his back & moved forward. I cant wait! I’m in tears just thinking abt it! Kyo was punished enough! time for happiness!

Side Notes:

While I’m impressed with tohru’s growth, as they did her justice in this ep, this doesn’t erase that the buildup for tohru’s own journey & trauma was mediocre. There is a reason ppl commented ” omg tohru, you can love your mom AND kyo!. ” Grief is illogical, long process & it sucks that we weren’t allowed to experience tohru’s grief & her mom’s role in tohru’s abandonment issues. Huge lost opportunity that a good conclusion ep cant erase! but like tohru, I’m moving on ~

The path of growth for kyo will start by rejecting the demon: his dad. No. other. option. Hold abusers accountable for their crimes. Stop their madness. Tell them off.

We know kyo is baka! that’s his trade mark, the endearing baka! a lot of characters in the show think so! I love it, but I’m craving baka-yuki! XD! really, yuki is cool, level-headed & smart, but let him be baka too! this only shows up in tiny microscopic doses, but they’re my fave doses of yuki! it humanizes the “perfect prince”, the “gifted high status rat”! Thus him not seeing kyo running the other side, is my fave look on him! XD.

I appreciate that kyo & yuki put their differences aside when they’re with tohru. You cant tell yuki is hella pissed off with kyo, but he restrained himself. His gaze while full of anger is also full of sympathy as he heard/saw kyo’s panic upon the thought of loosing tohru. He understand they both only mean the best for each other, but also tried they both keep missing each other & not meeting half way! Also, yuki being the only one in the hospital is realistic & endearing. No need for them all to be there & yuki lives with her & is so close to her.

kyo not being the hospital is fantastic! thank you writer-San! why would kyo go to the hospital after thinking his nightmare came true? kyoko /his mom warned him, you’ll hurt another person.. he did.. he didn't cause her fall... but caused her sadness & hurt.

Momiji’s reprimanding gaze is my fave look on him! Also, the best response to what akito did. Akito isnt used to such judgemental gaze. Kureno grabbed her cheeks, gently told her you shouldn't do that, the old maid told her you are right, Dr. Hatori erased her mistakes from ppl heads & bodies, shigure being either cold or kissing her ass, coxing her to yet torment another zodiac in his grand scheme to break the curse as happened in the beach arc.

You bet hana & arisa will be there next ep! Arisa will meet kureno & akito for sure. To path the way for their romance as seen in the ED.

Shigure’s “remorse” is a whole can of worms. Playing with ppl’s hearts & feelings to gain someone’s affection is no laughing matter. Each time blood is shed, he contributed somehow. he didnt force anyone to hurt the other, but he played with matches & never got hurt.

Shigure must be glad akito stabbed kureno. Not cuz he’s sadistic or bad person. He isn’t, but cuz akito stabbing kureno is akito cutting her bond with him. Go shigure, your girl removed her lover with blood. Kureno is punished for sleeping with ur girl by blood! so, when is ur punishment for sleeping with ur lover’s mom? none? ok.

The animation is good. They didnt villinize akito by drawing extra manic features like se02. Kyo’s broken & tormented face once again epicly drawn. However, akito’s slaps on tohru’s face were comedic, unnecessary & such bad taste! Stop using violence for extra drama, furuba!

Also, tohru, I love you, I understand you are broken but charging at a person, who has a history of violence & physical abuse & holding a knife, is stupid. No other description. I’m glad she didnt accidentally kill you in her initial rage.

Everything akito’s redemption, kureno & shigure are part 2 in my review.

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #sick paper #final season #part 1

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blissfulparker · 4 years

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Better than this→Prince!tom

parings→prince!tom x Princess!reader

Summary→ you and tom come from opposite kindgdoms. Both being young at the throne you despise each other and can barely stand each other. But when left in a room alone, everything builds up at once and all too quick

Warnings→smut, oral, enimies to lovers troupe,

A/n→this is for @rosyparkers writing challenge with the prompts “you wrap yourself in thrones and let no one touch you” and “”(y/n)” “yeah?” “I’m gonna kiss you now” “okay”” hope you all enjoy and yeah this is pure smut and will only be one part so BYE(also my laptop wouldnt let me add a gif or my moodboard! sorry!!!!)

A cold winter swept over london. You were back in the holland estates for a council meeting in which you always hated attending.

It was Tom Holland who you hated, none of his other family members. The throne was left to him at an early age just like you but your minds were far apart. Sometimes he made you wish your grandparents never formed the Allie with his kingdom. Ages ago now lead you to a modern day kingdom. One that tourists stared at from afar and only few got to be apart of.

“The meeting is downstairs, darling.” He leans against the doorframe of the library. His arms folded. A black button up loosened at the top. Black pants fit him perfectly and maybe it was the irrisatable look that made you hate him more. How easy it was for him, how he could get anything with the snap of his finger.

“The meeting is for higher council members.” You don’t look over your shoulder as you keep your stare out the window. Watching the snowfall and being able to see from a distance the people walking the streets. “Although I’m not surprised they let you in.” You mumble under your breath but he can hear. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he comes more into the library.

“Hmm,”he hums almost sweetly to himself. “Sounds like someone is a bit jealous.” He picks up a book from the nearest shelf. Flicking through the pages before tightly closing it.

“You mean jealous that you’re aging faster than me and only get your ways because of your looks? No Thomas, I don’t think I could ever be jealous of you.” You said bitterly. It was harsh, yes, But you weren’t in much of a mood for games.

“Ouch.” His face winces but it’s not taken personally. “You should just ask. I’m sure they’d let their smartest lady into the room.” He has a cheeky smile. A perfect, white cheeky smile that’s he bites down on as he stands next to you.

“And who would be the smartest man?” You look at him with your brows raised and he cocks his head a little before knowing it’s better not to pick a fight with you. Not when there were higher royal members downstairs, not when you both could easily make a fool out of yourselves.

“I never liked the name thomas.” He told you out of the blue before going over to the coffee table and picking up a book. “At least never from your mouth anyways.” He comments and you roll your eyes turning to him and watching what he was doing.

“So what should I call you?” You fold your arms and he lets his fingers run over the pages.

“Tom,” he knew you said Thomas out of spite. “Just tom.”

“Okay, Tom, why don’t you go downstairs and fuck your self back to the top and not make a fool out of your country.” You tell him and he stops at a word, frowning a bit. A mock at you.

“(Y/n),” your name was separated in syllables when he said it. “You’ve always wrapped yourself in thrones and never let anyone touch you. I wonder why.” He pouts before setting the book down. Your hands touched the bracelets on your wrists, pure gold, it matched the dress you wore today but you didn’t feel comfortable walking down into the meeting dressed like this.

“How I act is none of your business.” You tell him simply and he falls onto the sofa.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck someone in this room.” His voice confident with every word. You roll your eyes knowing his cockiness.

“You’ve seemed to fuck in every other place of this house With any girl you desire, So why not here?” You tease in a hateful way. Getting the book from the table and going to place it back in its proper spot. He walks you walk away. Even though he despised you, the way you act, how smart you were, how you managed to make royalty look so easy when he struggled, how you both degraded each other every time you saw each other.

“Guess I just haven’t found the right girl.” He looks over at the fire that flickers to warm the room. He knew every time you came over this was your spot.

Free moments away from everyone you seemed to resign here. He knew you liked to read, liked the view of the city, enjoyed the people. He knew this was your quiet safe haven, so that’s why before you came over he would have it cleaned. He’d have the dust wiped away, fresh wood, clean couch, and shiny floors. All for you. You never seemed to realize anyways, but all was done for you.

“Are we done here or do you need something from me?” You stand against the bookshelf. The emerald green you wore to support your kingdoms colors looked beautiful on you. The dress hugged your body perfectly and the sleeves looked like they were about to drop in a moment.

“I actually needed something from this room.” He got up from the couch. Walking over to you with his hands in his pockets. He walks right past you and bites his lip looking for what he needed. You watch his fingers trail the books, how long, crooked and thick they were. How rough his knuckles were from his boxing lessons, how you imagined his hand sliding up your thigh—

“It’s rude to stare, darling.” He clicks his tongue as he pulled the book right out of its home.

You want to punish yourself for letting your mind drift off to such dirty thoughts about the man you hated the most. How stupid you’d look if you let yourself fall for him. How all the years of teasing, rude glares, rolled eyes would be traded for some stupid love. Some quick romance because you were too busy to go out on the town.

“I would rather stick my own thumbs in my eyes than stare at you.” You fold your arms looking at the book he chose. England’s history, his family's history.

“I have to do a little reading homework.” He taps his finger on the book and catches your eyes staring at it. “We’re in a little quarrel with France right now over some trade so I guess I have to get myself out of that hole that we dug.” He shares and you nod.

“Hm,” you hum. He walks over and stops right in front of you. His chest is close to yours and you can smell the ocean breeze Cologne from his body. The smell is strong and sweet, making you want to pull him closer.

“You’re in my way.” He says in more of a whisper. “Move.” The words that fall out of your mouth next surprise you more than it surprises him.

“Make me.” You nearly bite back. He looks at your red lipstick the way you spoke the words. His hand is swift as it goes around your waist to pick you up and place you next to him. You’re shocked at his actions and hit his chest.

“Asshole!” You shout and the room echoes a little bit. He grabs the next book that you were once standing in front of and adds it to his collection starting in his arms. He lets out a lower laugh as he turns to you.

“Your wish was my command. After all, shouldn't the Princess always get what she wants?” He teases and you let out a loud huff.

“I hate you. I truly fucking hate you.” You let out a lower rumble and he only looks up to reach for a third book.

“Such harsh words. But the words are the same for you.” He winks and you brush off his touch and turn to walk away. As you start to walk away you trip over a loose wood flooring piece. He’s quick to grab you, holding you by your stomach and now your back is pressed against him. You can almost feel each individual divot of muscle. Feel how built he is, how he’s not that much taller than you but how small he makes you feel in this moment. His breathing is uneven as this position even took him by surprise.

“Tom,” you turn around and look at him. He still holds the books in one hand, the other hand is occupied with your waist.

His breath is slower now, he looks down and sees your lips, your chest, if he moved his eyes just a little he could see right down your dress but he wasn’t going to do that. As much as he says he hates you, he respects you.

“Like a little doe.” He almost whispers and you feel like putty in his arms. Does he do this with his other woman he brings into the house? Tease them until they feel so weak against his touch they would do anything to get him undressed. How could you fall into his trap too. Was this a trap?

“Lost for words?” His lips curl into a smirk and you want to say something but you can’t. You simply let him have his way with you at this moment.

“I’m not lost for anything.” You finally say. You intend to have a harsh tone but it comes out weak. Your begging your mind not to let him do this, not to be so weak to him. Fucking your enimie, your ally, was that all really worth it? How ashamed you’d be if you let your hormones take over and let him fuck you. How you haven’t been properly bedded in over a month and maybe something quick, something so quick could be forgettable.

“Hmm,” he hums coming in closer and take a deep breath. Smelling the perfume you chose this morning that you spray right under your ear. “I always like this scent on you. What is it? Chanel?” You don’t even realize you’ve moved your head to the side. Giving him access to kiss if he wanted. “Maybe I’m wrong. Gucci? Estée Lauder? No…” you almost whimper. “It’s something local isn’t it?” He lets out a soft chuckle just against your neck. You swallow hard feeling your core already throbbing wanting him to just break and touch you.

“What I wear is none of your business.” You still try to remain strong. Act like you hate his guts. Act like you do in meetings. Smack him in the face and remind him you’re in change.

“No, it isn’t.” He comes up from your neck and looks down at you. “But I think if you were mine you could wear whatever perfume you wanted and I’d still want to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.” He whispers harshly so close to your lips.

“And why don’t you do that?” You say back and his hand now going lower down your back, so much lower that it’s gripping you gently.

“Are you asking?” He lets his lips gaze over yours before bringing them away. That time you did whimper, a whimper left your lips.

He chuckles softly, takes one last breath before looking you in the eyes.

“(Y/n)?” His eyes softer than what you’ve ever seen.

“Yes?” You respond.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He brings his lips closer to yours.

“Okay.” Was all you said and just like that you were his. Your arms go around his neck and bring him in. The books he once held crash on the floor and make you jump slightly. His hand went from your ass to your thighs in a matter of moments lifting your one leg around him. His lips hungry, not caring about the perfect red lipstick now smudged against his. How it would be such a mess to leave here. He wasn’t thinking about that right now, he was just thinking about you.

“I still hate you.” It comes out as more of a moan than actual words. Reminding him this means nothing to you. That you simply need to get it out of your system.

He grunts as he goes to your neck, kissing down it and letting the straps of the dress fall right down your shoulder. His hand quickly goes to your nipple. Pinching with his finger and then taking it into his mouth making you loudly moan. You hope no one is around to hear you. You hope no one will open the doors to find you two.

He’s quick to have you picked up around him. Part of you wants him to just take you against the bookshelf, another part wants the couch, there’s a small part of you that needs him to cancel his whole day to be with you.

His hands quickly get down the rest of the dress. Dropping it and bringing you over to the couch that was made typically to fit one person but he would make it fit two.

“Please I need you.” You whine and he’s already making his way down your body.

“Do I hear the princess…begging?” His head in between your legs, biting your thigh gently. Your hand is weak but goes to grab his hair.

“Shut. up.” You arch your back as he takes his first taste of you. Maybe there was a good reason why he had such a playboy idea behind him. Maybe some rumors you managed to search up once were true, he really was able to keep up to his standards.

You’re quick to reach your high, soft moans leave your mouth which only motivates him to do more, give you more. He holds your thighs tightly and when you squirm too much he smacks them to make you stay still.

It’s only moments until you’re catching your breath. Eyes closed not believing what you just did. Your hands go to push back any hair that fell into your face and wipe off some sweat as well. It was going to be hard just walking back into your room when your lipstick was smudged and you were drenched in sweat. Your legs shaking did not help as well.

He comes up to your face, you pull him in for a kiss which takes him by surprise.

“What?” You look at him in this moment and think maybe he’s good, maybe he’s not everything bad you’ve wanted him to be just to be Safe.

“It’s just…you...nevermind. Girls typically don’t kiss me after I do that.” He’s still in his pants, but the way his chest glistens bare, you can’t look away.

“Oh.” You let your eyes flicker down to his pants. Reaching for him but he quickly grabs your hand.

“Another time.” He winks and you feel your body go stiff. Another time. There would be another time?

“A-Are you sure?” You flicker your eyes a few times and he kisses above your brow.

“Mmmh,” he places his finger under your chin. “Look at you getting soft for me.” He teases and you grab him a little too tightly and he winces.

“Knock it off.” You tell him. He likes it, he likes it when women take control over him. It was rare it ever happened but he gets tired of being in control all day and needs a little of that control unleashed on him.

Bells ring outside. Signaling another hour has passed the day and that made you sigh. He gets up from where he was and goes over to the area where he dropped your dress and comes back with it at the edge of his fingers waving it in a teasing way.

You quickly take it from him and slide it over your head. Letting the fabric situate itself against your body before trying to stand up. Your legs weak and give out for a moment before he catches you and pulls you back up.

“Woah, woah, i've got you darling.” He holds you and then laughs. “Oh don’t give me those eyes. Not everytime I’m going to catch you is going to be a time I’ll fuck you.” He winks and you roll your eyes.

“I have a meeting with some locals. I have to give a speech at six.” You tell him and he turns you around to zip up your dress.

“And when will you be back?” He asks, kissing your shoulder in a teasing way.

“I don’t know, maybe someone will catch my eyes in the crowd—“ you start to tease more playfully but he’s not so light about it. He turns you around and pulls you tight against his body. You’ve never seen him with these eyes. Angry you’ve seen? Yes. Mad? Sad? Hurt? But never so ferral. Like you were his and he didn’t want to share.

“Anyone ever teach you it’s not so nice to talk about other men right after one just ate you like you were his last meal.” He looks down at your lips and for a moment you swore you left your body. You swallow hard before blinking a few times and opening your mouth to say.

“Eight. I’ll be back at eight.” You feel so weak and powerless but protected in his touch. He lets his grip on your waist loose and lets you regain balance.

“Alright. I’ll tell the chefs to hold dinner until you get back. And it will just be you and I and i will fuck you on that table when we’re done eating and then I will bring you to my room and fuck you until you can’t walk. Don’t think I’m not making up for all those years you said you hated me so much.” He kisses right below your ear before buttoning his shirt up and going to the door. You watch him leave and try to recall what just happened. You place your hand on your forehead wondering how’d you get out of here without anyone questioning you.

You didn’t know who you hated more. Tom or yourself. You were hooking up with the man you swore you hated up and down. You felt good too. You hated that he made you feel so, so good.

You truly hated tom holland, but he was about to make you wish you never left his side

Permanent Taglist: @hoodiesparker @dahliaspidey @parkersvibes @itssss-a-bean @ppkrtingle @myfinalwords @bocauhl @tinyplanet-explorers @sincerlyfan @softbaby-Tom @softbaby-tom @rosebeegraham @stormyholland @unicorn-princess-1999 @spideyyypeter @marshyrebelcloud @oh-epiphany @yeahimcrying @highlydisfunctional1 @disgustangg @pterstingle @quacksonhq @starlightparker @reblogsfics @tomsrebeleyebrow @dreamyyholland @imaginashawnns @alilpunkrock @peterspideysenses @lovely-valllll @lowkey-holland @hannaholland1811 @kthemarsian @maryjane23 @icyhollands @dummiesshort

#royal!tom #prince!tom #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #imagine tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fic #tom holland fics #tom holland au #tom holland royal au #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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sakuraswordly · 10 months

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Warning contains Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 spoliers

The experience is also the price for you to be happy. Even in real life or fantasy, you must face the saddest or hurt in your life if you want happiness for others and yourself. Like I said in this blog.......

The balance. Even light need dark, the sun need the moon for the earth and day need night. That's why the world has cycles of life and cannot break.

That's why Kyoko said these in anime and movies. She's right. Her wish destroys her whole family.

What Homura said it's true, "From now on, she will live to curse as many people as she had saved." And that's why saving people mean cursing yourself as well. This is what Danny in Tsubasa of Phantasia found out and broke. And that's why Homura try to burden herself to save Danny in Tsubasa of Phantasia.

No matter how much the price you paid, the dead people can't come back to life.

Even if you can create them, they are not the real person you want to bring back to life. This is what makes Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 become drama.

If you want to bring it back to life, you need to trade your own existence. Just like how Ed did to Al and what Nier did to Kainé in Ending D (Nier Replicant ver.1.22)

Sonic knew about the balance and the price for bring Camelot back to life. That's why Sonic needs to stop Merlina from sacrificing herself and using others' sacrifices in the future.

Sonic knew but he keep moving forward and living life to the fullest. Even happiness was just like this flower in the past but that's what life mean and proud to be part of it even if it hurt or is sad. This is what Sonic live for.

This is what it meant in Live Life by Song by Crush 40 too.

Sonic: Every world has its end. I know that's kinda sad but...That's why we gotta live life to the fullest in the time we have.

This is what it meant why the woman run away from her happiness.(Source xxxHolic Ep. 17)

#analysis #tsubasa of phantasia #mahou shojo madoka magica #Everything has a trade-off. not everything you hope is always free even desire. “Even wish itself”#tsubasa chronicle #Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 #sonic and the black knight #xxxholic #Sonic: Every world has its end. I know that's kinda sad but...That's why we gotta live life to the fullest in the time we have.#the balance

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muwur · 4 years

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snapchat headcanons

✧ hc’s ✧ for using snapchat w ur boi toi ft. the pretty setter squad

❧ gn reader

✎ 3.1k words

a/n: kinda a combo of how they use sc and the kinds of snaps they send you! along w wat u send them, and uh... dating stuf n shenanigans? texting/snapping habits? my fantasies? IDEK ANYMORE EOFHEFJ

this was born from the recesses of my mind , which desired nothing mor than snapchats from suga , us sending cute selfies , others bein dumb n chaotic , no context videos , n him snapping me photos of some mangoes on sale he said he’ll buy for me DXX it’s too late for me now

doing research on hq bois and surfing thru sc features (im just now realizing theres quite a bit?? im hoping i address most of them at some point lolol) instead of real life tings aHHhhhHAHA

requests: open! will be working on a suga one i got, dw, requester!

sugawara

✧ sends good morning and good night snaps

✧ so he’s rlly good at keeping streaks, probs has the longest ones (one of them being y’alls streak)

✧ posts tidbits of volleyball practice on his story every once in a while

✧ snaps you pics of his sleeping teammates when they’re coming back to school after a long day of matches , adding a single ‘❤️’ as a caption

✧ he will also create colorful masterpieces on all of them

✧ gives daichi a santa beard, tanaka a squiggly stache (i imagine it to look like spongebob n patrick’s seaweed ones now that were mEN), n kageyama sum angry brows,,, wait he already has them lolol u good der kags

✧ posts a picture of you when you’re hanging out, captioning it: “🥰“

✧ has conversations with you purely via snaps

✧ ranges from casual chats and checking up on u to crackwhoring ( ** indicates the photo, while the “” quotes indicate the caption, all snaps are italicized, otherwise its regular dialogue)

✧ suga: *peace sign* “hey sweetheart, how r u?”

✧ you: *pics of homework* “ahh, drowning in school ;-; i cant wait for this week to be over fghjkl”

✧ suga: *close up with :o on his face* “let’s study together tmrw!”

✧ or

✧ suga: *complete darkness* “its 3 am n i cant sleep”

✧ you: *the top half of your head, laying on a pillow* “ ;( aw babe. do u want me to send something to help u sleep?”

✧ suga: *still in darkness* “y u still up?? go sleep. n 🥺 yes pls”

✧ you: *snaps pics of feet* “that’ll be 50 bucks, pay up”

✧ suga: *darkness remains* “can we make a trade instead? i promise to make it worth ;)”

✧ ok now u BOTH cant sleep (im sry my crackheading be acting up around 2am eeryday, i stan a mischievous suga--)

✧ video chats (in the darkness lol) instead until you both pass out (im not in luv u r 😭)

✧ super down to take filtered selfies w you

✧ does all the silly ones with you (things like ’angry face’ or the frog one)

✧ but also rlly digs lookin cute with you using some heart crowns, y’all an aesthetic (n crakhead) duo fosho

✧ def subscribes to life hacks and tries them out himself, has a 50% success rate

kageyama

✧ doesn’t rlly use snapchat too much

✧ but when he does

✧ will either send you a picture to indicate he’s at volleyball practice (wow wat a sexi lookin gym floor)

✧ or some random picture of whatever he’s doing at the moment (*drinking milk*)

✧ this is mostly in order to save streaks

✧ he’s so bad at streaks

✧ “why does it matter?? what’s the point of sending just black screens or whatever’s in front of you at the moment??”

✧ can’t keep a consistent streak for more than 3 days and also doesn’t care (until hinata challenges him to see who can have the longer one)

✧ when you send him videos of him playing, he really focuses on them to try to improve his technique. asks you to send those vids to him (assuming u saved them, which u did)

✧ but when you look over his shoulder when he’s watching a video and give him some compliment (“i recorded at the perfect moment! that was a really good set, kageyama!”), he gets a bit flustered

✧ gets even more flustered but pretty happy whenever you post videos on your story showing karasuno winning some points with captions like:

✧ “footage of the legendary quick >.>” or “karasuno crows flyin high!” or “these bois make my heart 😭 im so proud”

✧ you WILL catch him off guard in photos, using filters that surrounds his head w/ emojis like 🥺💖🥰💘

✧ you also put these on your story (to his dismay)

✧ ppl comment on these mor than anything else (n for those who dont rlly kno kageyama, theyre kinda surprised to him like this)

✧ hinata snickers “hey kageyama you look pretty good here--”

✧ takes some selfies with you, mostly cuz you want them

✧ saves them after u send them over (n secretly cherishes them)

✧ occasionally watches his subscriptions, they’ll usually involve sports, mostly volleyball (who woulda guessed)

✧ you use his bitmoji to test out random facial expressions you would never see him wear

✧ you: “can you smile and wink like this? act like you’re the obnoxious charming guy in a shojo.”

✧ will actually attempt, but it looks so bad that you die inside and he never wants to try again cuz of ur laughing outburst (you: “😭😭 bb im sorry i couldnt help it”)

oikawa

✧ literally sends you anything and everything

✧ morning bathroom selfie to show off how good his hair came out that day, saying:

✧ “he has risen”

✧ or “i woke up like this”

✧ and my favorite, “you’re lucky you get this content for frEE”

✧ selfies with iwa, who just looks annoyed and exasperated at the camera

✧ sends you pics of his lunch and snacks (“bet u wish u had milk bread too”)

✧ always packs extra milk bread so he could convince you to stay at his practice after school--

✧ FILTERSS

✧ I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENUF

✧ will either use the filters that make him kayooottt (cute)

✧ loves the ones named ‘hearts,’ ‘soft,’ ‘peach,’ ‘butterfly cheeks,’ vsco filters LOL, etc

✧ uses ‘big mouth’ when he feelin a bit sASSY; also loves to use this one when he rants, it channels his inner valley girl

✧ sometimes he’ll be snacking or drinking something while he does so (“hey guys today im gonna eat these milk buns from my favorite bakery and this bomb orange juice and complain about this little kid who talked smack to me earlier and almost made me cry--”)

✧ takes cute selfies with you, is an aesthetic selfie king, puts them on his story to show off he’s hangin with you

✧ but on your story you only post the ones he looks bad in LOL

✧ has separate stories for his every need, some r private (and lucky you, ur included in all of them)

✧ titles them ‘mean things iwa said to me today,’ ‘ranting hotbox + mukbangs,’ ‘a day in the life of oikawa,’ ‘volleyball 🏐,’ ‘unpopular opinions,’ etc.

✧ fitting room photoshoots lol

✧ “y/n, what do you think of this??” “and this?” “oOH WHAT ABOUT THIS??”

✧ ends up calling you through video chat so you can live critique his choices

✧ “oikawa, please no, i can’t be seen with you in public if you wear those--”

✧ also changes his bitmoji’s outfits from time to time, hopes you’ll notice, but you don’t LOL (oikawa: ;((((((( )

kenma

✧ uses sc usually just to reply to messages ppl send him

✧ indifferent about streaks, but keeps a few with ppl he’s closer to

✧ mindlessly plays the snapchat games with you, finds some of them kinda cute

✧ you both made his bitmoji for him, dressing his up in the orange cat suit

✧ you also helped make kuroo’s and put his in the black cat suit to match--

✧ snaps you every time he gets a new game, starts playing it, and once he finishes

✧ started to post some gameplays and reviews on his sc story (might as well add them to sc since he was already on other social platforms), and ended up amassing a large following

✧ follows the tech and gaming stories on sc

✧ as well as the ones with cute animals--

✧ open to selfies with you, usually wears a calm expression and holds up a peace sign

✧ even occasionally sticks his tongue out

✧ his story is occasionally heavily bombarded with candids of him w/ pretty sc filters, all taken by you

✧ but of all the filters, you love using the clout glasses on him

✧ especially when he’s just minding his own business

✧ “kenma, in his tru habitat” when hes cocooned in a blanket

✧ “kenma, on his way to steal yo manz” while on his way to the bathroom

✧ “kenma, next iron chef. watch out gordon” as he’s cooking instant ramen

✧ “kenma” n das it

✧ but he thinks it meme-y so he lets you do whatever you want, kinda digs it

✧ you end up dedicating your snap story to memes of kenma and the nekoma volleyball team. ppl are in it for the shits n giggles n hot bois

✧ you later discover someone else did the same thing with their volleyball team filled with hot bois from shiratorizawa, and you befriend tendou and share funni internet tings

akaashi

✧ 99% of his photos include either you or bokuto or both

✧ bokuto spams akaashi’s story and contact list with selfies and videos of himself using weird filters, often gets you to join him

✧ has several streaks, but will send something with more substance than a black screen or his bedroom window

✧ will usually involve smthng that just happened to him or smthing he saw, like:

✧ “a kind older lady offered me some apples in return for helping her”

-or:

✧ “how do i break the news to bokuto that the yaikniku place he’s been wanting to go to for the past week ,,, is closed today”

✧ o n let’s not leave out:

✧ “is it possible to conjure a ghost using a wooden spatula, ketchup, and a chalk drawn hexagram? bokuto’s been paranoid ever since he tried last night and i dont know what to tell him. seriously, help”

✧ looks through stories occasionally, comments whenever bokuto makes questionable decisions

✧ also comments on whatever you’ve posted. his words range from “you’re cute” to “why,” depending on the content

✧ ppl know when y’all are hanging out cuz he’ll post smthing to indicate he’s with you, usually it’s some candid and you’re not paying attention

✧ appreciation posts for you as well! esp if you got him something, like onigiri or his fav, Nanohana no Karashiae , for lunch! (akaashi: *snaps a pic of his food* “thank you y/n for feeding me”)

✧ prefers video calling over texting/snapping whenever possible tho

✧ occasionally reminisces thru his sc memories

✧ enjoys the flashback feature and will send them to you and bokuto (cuz they’re about y’all anyway lolol)

✧ also has secretly saved a bunch of selfies of himself, consists of him trying out a lot of the filters (he feelin himself)

✧ you, one day, looking thru his phone and discovering them: “akaashi, you’re so pretty wtf”

✧ akaashi: “...”

koganegawa

✧ sends you selfies of him before practice

✧ during breaks

✧ and after practice, usually makes a comment about how it went for him that day like:

✧ “i hit a decent toss today and futakuchi actually complimented me!”

✧ that, or:

✧ “i got yelled at 17 times today 😢😩”

✧ has quite a few streaks, his longest ones being with you and hinata

✧ def uses filters

✧ tries out every funny one he finds and sends you videos

✧ “look y/n im an aaaaAALlliiEEENnnNNN oo oo hoo hhhooOOh”

✧ “now im a chicky nuggy!!” (chicken nugget)

✧ also enjoys the doodle feature

✧ but he uses the filter with the clout glasses unironically--

✧ usually when smth good happens to him and he feels happy and/or cool about it

✧ “just beat the boss in this game on my 69th try B)”

✧ “kogane, that’s--”

✧ plays sc games with you and thinks bitmojis r cool

✧ kinda sad he cant find a hair option that matches him tho lolol rip

✧ you: “you hair’s just,,, unique,,,”

✧ subscribed to anything sports and fitness, as well as pop culture so he can stay in the loop

✧ also watches everyone else’s stories, pointing out whenever he sees smthing cool and/or interesting

✧ “woahh, karasuno’s at nationals right now! i wish we could’ve won, but next year for sure!!”

✧ you encourage him at all his games, hyping him up irl and online

✧ “koganegawa: best setter 😍!!”

✧ luckily you didnt record the parts he completely messed up LOL

semi

✧ before going out with you, snaps you a pic of his casual outfit like:

✧ semi: “does this look ok”

✧ you: “babe you look great, tendou was just messing with you”

✧ will make unwanted appearances on tendou’s snap and complains to you about them

✧ “i didnt consent to being part of his meme page” and

✧ “okay, but he didn’t only have to share all the moments i messed up--”

✧ also indifferent about streaks but will do them

✧ sometimes sends snaps/streaks indicating he’s practicing his music

✧ when you see these you usually ask him to send you vids or if you can come over n watch

✧ initially is a bit shy about it but he loves what he does and you and knows you’re genuinely interested and supportive so he agrees

✧ secretly rlly enjoys having you as his personal audience

✧ lowkey into asmr, like the soap cutting shit as well as chewing crunchy things

✧ also watches food porn and clips of mukbangs, then can’t resist going on youtube and watching the whole thing

✧ “y/n, can we try this, it looks so good--”

✧ will also often watch oikawa’s stories, especially his ‘ranting hotbox + mukbangs,’ and makes comments about him being an idiot

✧ “this kid he’s talking about is a savage”

✧ but admits they’re quite entertaining

✧ just looks serious in all the selfies you take with him

✧ you: “can you look like you’re enjoying yourself?”

✧ semi: “i look cooler like this tho”

✧ sc memories filled with shenanigans from you and the volleyball team, doodles, and mirror selfies with him experimenting diff looks (you: “tendou, you got him way too concerned about this”)

✧ also enjoys showing off he’s with you, taking a short video of you when you hang out

✧ you: “semi, i look bad right now”

✧ semi: “but you can never look bad”

✧ you: “🥺 bb”

✧ viewers: “aw”

✧ shiratorizawa: “can he be this nice with us LOL”

shirabu

✧ his main mode of communication with you is mostly through the regular messaging app, so he doesn’t use sc too much

✧ also doesn’t care for streaks and is bad at keeping them

✧ will answer to you or his senpais rather soon tho

✧ but lets all his other notifications pile up a bit before finally going thru them

✧ goes through the snaps he receives really fast, spending like 2 seconds each to look at them cuz aint nobody got time for dat

✧ doesn’t even rlly open goshiki’s LOL

✧ you have fun using filters on him and taking videos while he’s just doing his own thing peacefully like studying

✧ it takes him a second to notice and when he finally looks up, he just gives you an exasperated look

✧ cue you cracking up with laughter bc the filter finally shows up on his face

✧ his eyes and mouth are now on mike wazowski

✧ that, or his face becomes so disturbingly moRPhed like an alien

✧ caption: “ken-chan, my future medical man 😍”

✧ “y/n, please, this is like the 7th time in the last 20 minutes--”

✧ finally convinced him to take a study break and hang out with you

✧ which usually consists of snacking and light banter while you lay your head on his lap

✧ and scrolling through snapchat stories and showing him what everyone else is up to and cool things you’re subscribed to

✧ “loooook, dr. miami’s doing another butt job! is this the line of work you’re studying so hard for?”

✧ “no, it’s really not”

✧ is actually very soft with you and likes having the photos and vids for memories

atsumu

✧ sends you snaps where his brother looks bad, captioning it:

✧ “this is evidence that im the hotter twin”

✧ likewise, osamu sends you snaps where atsumu looks even worse

✧ like, the mans passed out, looking rekt and open mouthed, drool seeping into his pillow

✧ osamu: “u still have time to break up with him”

✧ also lucky for you, atsumu also loves to take unflattering photos of you and send them to you randomly at like 2 am

✧ you: “nani tf when did you even take this??”

✧ usually posts a snap while he’s out somewhere like at a match, the gym, outside on a run, a party, or just hanging out with you or his frens

✧ however, makes sure you look good if you show up on his story cuz he wants to show you off

✧ doesn’t really care for streaks, but has a lott

✧ but also has a tON of unopened snaps

✧ is the type to send just a black screen n call it a day, or maybe spice it up by sending a pic of the sexi gym floor (a comeback) w his shoe in the corner

✧ will, however, consistently respond to you and kinda looks forward to ur snaps (secretly hopes you show ur face)

✧ but when you dont:

*in class*

✧ atsumu: *a smirk on his face* “your content’s kinda dry today”

✧ you: *your sexi desk* “my nudez ain’t free, i demand compensation”

✧ atsumu: *grasped his chin in thought, but angled the cam up bc he needa hide his phone in class lolol* “what if i... take you out on a romantic excursion”

✧ you: * your face but with ‘sausage’ filter* “🥵🥵🥵🥵 yessir, what u want”

✧ rlly only wants to have pics of your face wat a closeted sOFTIE

✧ likes to have content on his flashbacks

✧ usually has other social media sources to keep up to date with things

✧ actually rlly digs using sc filters, mostly ones that’ll make him look like a queen

✧ captions a selfie of you two like: “me >>>>>>> y/n”

✧ but nearly everyone who comments on it is like: “i think you flipped the sign, bro 🤥”

✧ judges ppl who are into soap cutting asmr (you will never hear the end of it if you also like it)

a/n: sc kinda dying for me, my use went from suga to an atsumu to like nearly nonexistent LOL

also o gawd i already have ideas here n there for a pt 2 so stay tuned fjxnwfesd hope it takes me less long cuz this one took me fkin foreva LOL

idk y i made semi like mukbangs but i feel like he’d be rlly into them--

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu reader insert #sugawara x reader #kageyama x reader #oikawa x reader #kenma x reader #akaashi x reader #koganegawa x reader #semi x reader #shirabu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu headcanons

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underatedcharactersunite · 4 years

Text

Driving Home For Christmas!

Summary; You work for Baratheon Jewellers, Jon Snow is apart of the Stark family company who creates many beautiful pieces that are sold in your store. However, Jon is a notorious flirt and arrogant git, but what happens when you see Jon walking down the street after an horrible encounter with Catelyn. Modern AU. Pairing; Jon Snow x Female Reader WordCount;1,730 Warnings; Strong Language

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Jon Snow was a man who antagonised you to no end. Every day he can into your jewellery store delivering a new pieces of jewellery that he crafted. Jon Snow appeared every bit arrogant as he was rude. Jon entered every room believing he owned it To top it off Jon continuously threw flirtatious comments in your direction.

Stark jewellers were one of your largest clients, so you couldn't afford to anger your bosses by being rude to Jon Snow the illegitimate son of CEO Ned Stark. You needed this job, you couldn't afford to lose your job on top of Christmas.

Besides, apart from your negative interactions with Jon, you truly loved your job. Your boss Robert Baratheon was the best boss you'd ever had. He was kind, understanding and extremely funny. If you needed anything you knew you could turn to your boss As well s your interactions with the other members of the Stark family were never negative. You would go as far to consider, Sansa Arya and Robb as friends of yours.

As Christmas drew closer, busier you became. Customers came in there hundreds if not thousands trying to locate their perfect gift for their love one. You lost count of the number of customers you'd wrapped gifts for after their consultations. You were definitely on your way to achieve best seller for that extra Christmas bonus.

"Love, Jon will be coming in today to drop some more stock. Would you be able to handle it for me? I'm up to my eyes in paperwork and Joffery's decided to ditch once again. Honestly, you try to teach your son a trade. At least Gendry and Tommen want to learn the family business."

"Yeah of course I will. Don't worry about anything, I've got it covered" You continued to wipe down one of the many glass cabinets. Robert approached you carefully as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you, Love. Remember if you need anything all you need to do is ask. I see you as one of my daughters. Alright, I'll see you later, call me if you need anything."

"See you later, Robert." As he left, you suddenly felt a sinking feeling. Another day would soon be destroyed by the presence of Jon Snow. You could only hope your interaction would be short.

A couple of hours later, you were attending to an elderly gentlemen who was currently searching for his wife. Thy had been together for nearly thirty years.

"I don't know what I'm doing. There are so many options." Smiling, you hadn't be relieved to interact with such a sweet customer.

"It's okay Sir, feel free to take all the time you need. I can make you something to drink if you like. Picking the right present for a loved one ne can be difficult."

"Thank you for being so patient with me. Do you have someone special to buy a gift for this holiday season?

"No Sir, not this yearr" A frail hand rested ontop of yours, as you were met with a kind smile.

"You will meet your person, you mustn't give up hope"

"You could always buy me a special present." You fought the sudden urge to roll your eyes, Jon finally decided to make an appearance. Two hours late.

"Hello, Jon. I'll just hope this gentleman, and then I'll be over to you" Jon quickly took a seat in one of the leather chairs located in the centre of the room.

"I don't mind waiting, not for you Sweetheart." Jon sent you an overzealous wink. Shrugging him off, you returned your full attention to the elderly gentleman.

Never before had you been grateful for an indecisive customer. Throughout, you felt Jon's eyes running all over you. You friend from snapping at him. Although Jon's passive-aggressive antagonization couldn't halt your alation when the elderly gentleman chose a beautiful matching set of ruby earrings and necklace. The gentleman was ecstatic he managed to combat his indecisiveness.

Although the moment he left the store, you were forced to place your full attention onto Jon. As he strode up to the counter, you quickly forced a smile onto your lips.

"The way you engaged with that old man just now was pretty sexy"

"Thank you Jon. It's called being a personable human, perhaps you should try it sometime."

"I'll try it, if you let me take you out on a date"

"ell it looks like your staying as the arrogant, childish rude man child that you are. Robert mentioned you were here to deliver more stock"

"Straight to business, there I thought we were getting somewhere"

"Jon we are never going to et somewhere. Now can we just get on with it, so I can go home."

"Have a long day, if you let me I could make it longer."

"You're disgusting" You pulled the keys out of your trouser pockets as you open the door to the backroom.

As you marked off all the brand new stock from Stark Jewellers, Jon continued to stare at you. Honestly, did he need a picture?

"You can leave now. I'm closing now so I can go home."

"I thought we were having a good time" Walking directly past jon, holding the door wide open.

"Now get out!" Reluctantly, jon left leaving you alone to close, you knew it was only a matter of time before your next interaction.

*****

"I can't wait to go. The Bahamas is the most beautiful place" Sandy beaches, crystal blue oceans, amazing cultures. I wish you cold to come with us, you'd have a great time." Sansa's excitement could light up a whole room. The Stark's worked extremely hard, so the trip would act as a well deserved break.

"Maybe, I'll be able to go one day." Wiping down the glass cabinets you try desired to go the Bahamas one day, unfortunately,y this year is not it.

"Are you doing anything for Christmas? I don't want you to be alone. You're the last person who deserves to be alone on Christmas."

"i'll be fine, beside's you'll have a great time. Enjoy your vacation you deserve it. I'm just having a quiet Christmas this year. Everyone's off doing their own thing and my sister will be around for Boxing Day."

"As long as you wont be alone"

"I won't I promise."

It's Christmas Eve, after a grueling shift all you wanted to do was get home and relax. To make matters worse, it had started snowing. With the roads slipery and traffic choatic, everything appeared to be a snail's pace.

As you were driving home, you saw familiar silhouette waling in the distance. Rolling down your window, you confirmed your suspicion. Jon Snow was indeed sulking down the street with a suitcase in tow. Sansa had informed you there plane would take off at six that evening. So why was Jon walking down the street?

You had no idea what conspired in you to do what you did next. Perhaps it was the Christmas spirit, but you pulled over. Stepping out of the car , you quickly ran cautiously to catch up to Jon.

“Jon, why are you not on the plane?” You called out, Jon immediately stopped upon hearing the unusually soft tone of your voice.

“Why do you care? Just go home! It’s Christmas Eve, be with your family”

“I don’t have anywhere to be. Get in the car, it’s cold out and the paths are beginning to get dangerous”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Call it the Christmas spirit. Now get in the car your coming home with me.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Jon just get in the car!”

*****

The drive home was slow and cantankerous. Everyone trying to get somewhere and they were impatient about it. Now with Jon in the car, you were even more anxious.

“This is not the way to my house” Jon mentioned as you turned the heating on higher. Was there no end to this drive home?

“We’re not going to your house. We’re going to mine. No-one, not even you is going to spend Christmas alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll go stay with Sam or Tormund”

“Bullshit! Sam is taking little Sam and Gilly to Lapland and Tormund is gone home this Christmas. So are you gonig to meraciously get a flight on Christmas Eve”

“How do you know what they’re up to?”

“There is this wonderful thing called social media. I also attend most Stark parties and I think your friends are pretty nice. You know between the Stark’s, the Baratheon’s and my sister, they are all the family I have.”

“They treat you more like family then they do me. I must be something truly pathetic when the woman that hates me is the only one who has bothered to be nice to me.”

“Jon, I don’t hate you. I never have. So what happened at the airport?”

“At least that’s one of you. Catelyn still sees me as nothing more than the result of my Father’s mistake.

“Jon, you’re way more than that. You are creative and talented, kind to everyone else. So in this instance, Catelyn is very wrong.

“I was looking forward to go to the Bahamas, but I guess I’m stuck here now.”

“Hey! I don’t think I’m not that bad of company”

“No your not.” The silence in the car echoed loudly, the atmosphere was thick and tense unlike any emotion ever conveyed between you both. Suddenly, you found yourself questioning, why you despised him in the first place. Here you were stuck in a car driving home on Christmas Eve. How more of a Hallmark movie could you get?

Being stuck in traffic wasn’t helping. Suddenly, Jon’s arms wrapped around the back of the chair.

“Looks like we’re going stuck in this traffic for a while”

“Yeah it does” The tension between was beginning to get overwhelmed your hands resting tightly on the steering wheel.

“Fuck it!” As if the two of you were thinking the something both of you leaned over the counsel as your lips clashed with one another. Jon’s hand gripped the back of your head as you pulled on his shirt. An eruption of a car horn broke your embrace apart.

Moving your car forward, you struggled to catch your breath.

“Was that my Christmas present” Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the smile that it caused.

“You can have more when we get to mine”

“I’ve never been more glad that Catelyn let me of family plans.”

#jon snow imagines #game of thrones imagine #jon snow imagine #game of thrones imagines #jon snow oneshot #jon snow one shot #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones oneshot #Got imagines #got imagine #got one shot #Got oneshot #Ficmas2020 #Day 4 #Christmas posts

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cakelanguage · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas @okay-sky! I’m your secret Santa for the @fmasecretsanta2020 #fmasecretsanta

I had an absolute blast writing this for you and I hope you like this RoyEd piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. Have a happy holidays and I wish you the best.

You can also read this on AO3

The snow was a foot deep and maneuvering through it was a pain in the ass, but Roy was determined to make it to the post office in North City. Normally, Roy rarely makes the trip unless he's on the last dredges of his food supply but the potential for one of Ed's letters to be there had him pushing onward.

For the short amount of time he'd gotten to spend in Central, he'd spent a large amount of it enjoying the company of the Elric brothers, specifically Ed. It was like an old wound had finally stopped aching when he got to see the man. And he was now. A man, that is. A maturity he never thought he'd see from the older Elric permeated his actions. While he still had a temper he didn't bare his teeth at the smallest of teases. He seemed wiser now and Roy wondered what he'd experienced in this other world.

His interest and desire to spend more time with Ed wasn't one-sided either. The man--amidst Roy’s own scramble to steal his attention from Miss Rockbell and Alphonse-- found him at all hours of the day to discuss anything. From alchemic theories to the property damage done while he was away, the two never seemed to run out of things to talk about.

When he'd been forced to return up North, Ed had been the one to suggest keeping up a correspondence through letters. Roy didn't mention that he’d have to essentially hike to the post office and instead happily agreed. Ed promised to write often and Roy said he'd do the same.

And he intended to.

Which brought him back to his every other day trek.

He didn't know when he'd receive his first letter so he just kept coming back. For the first time, Roy was thankful for the cane that the doctor suggested he get for strenuous exercise in case the scar tissue flared up. He'd been adamant about not using it for the longest time, but out here -- where he wasn't surrounded by people who unintentionally put him on a pillar-- using the cane didn't matter.

His breath puffed in the frosty air as he took a moment to rest his legs. He could already see the city so he'd only have around another 30-minute walk if he continued at the pace he was going.

North City was as lively as it could be for one with near-constant snowfall. While the population consisted mostly of military personnel there were still plenty of families and small businesses dotted amongst the abundance of government buildings.

These little businesses felt like they’d been plucked out of a different location, the warm glow of the fluorescents glimmering through the large windows. Roy's favorite was a little bookstore that specializes in customer requests. They'd take a poll from an assortment of people to find out what they wanted and go from there.

Roy indulged in much of the literature they had to offer and the sweet family-run shop told him he was welcome to make any requests he wanted.

Ed would've salivated at the thought.

On the outskirts of the inner city lies the post office. It was never terribly busy which was a blessing so Roy had no trouble siddling up to the counter.

"Well I'll be," the scruffy man at the counter whistled, "you're back again already."

Roy gave him a tired smile. "Glettner, I just don't want to miss the letter I'm supposed to be getting."

"I guess, but you don't live in the city so you gotta walk here." He shuddered. "Couldn't pay me to make that hike more than once a year and I've lived here for over a decade."

"I want to be punctual."

Glettner rolled his eyes, but those eyes only held mirth in them. "Well Mr. Punctual, you're in luck, a letter for you arrived yesterday evening."

Roy wasn't sure what his reaction was but it garnered him a chuckle all the same.

"Ah-ha!" Glettner cried victoriously and walked back over with the letter. "This person must really like you if they're willing to use four stamps and Express delivery." He shook his head. "Express is always so expensive.”

The letter in his hand was hefty with Ed’s tell-tale god awful handwriting on the front. He brought the letter close to his chest with a content hum.

“Ugh,” Glettner whined, “Go read your letter somewhere else if you’re gonna be looking like that when you only read the cover.”

Roy sent him a flat look. “I’ll see you, Glettner,” Roy called over his shoulder, tucking the letter safely into his coat. “Stay warm.”

“Speak for yourself! Try not to get yourself killed walking to the post office you flame-brained moron.”

Glettner always did say the nicest things.

Back in the relative safety of his cabin, Roy was able to settle down and open the letter. Carefully, he pulled the small bundle of papers jammed inside, out onto the table. Offhandedly he stoked the fire a little more with a snap of his fingers.

Admittedly, he’d missed the ease that using his alchemy allowed him with certain tasks.

Colonel Bastard,

Roy snorted and shook his head. He’d already told Ed he wasn’t a colonel anymore, but apparently, the fact hadn’t stuck in the shrimp’s mind. He wondered if Ed still had his infamous temper tantrums about his height.

Something to find out later.

The other man seemed to have grown up a great deal in the past two years, but Roy doubted Ed would’ve been able to calm himself down when it came to his height and the lack thereof.

I hope this gets to you fast, and that you haven’t frozen solid up there. Havoc told me about your cabin and I’ll be honest: sounds shitty. But they did say you had a fireplace so maybe it isn’t too bad as long as you don’t move from in front of the fire. Though now that I know what your job entails I can honestly say that you might be fucked.

Seriously, who wants to stand out in all that snow to watch for potential attacks from Drachma? That’s what Briggs is for. So get your ass back here before your ass freezes to a chair or something.

He couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from him. The letter was just wholly Ed and it almost felt like the other man was here in person.

Al wants me to tell you he says hi, so that’s from him. He’s doing okay, he’s kinda got everything figured out now. I mean he obviously did before, he was doing fine while I was gone. He’s made a name for himself even if he did kinda steal my look.

He doesn’t need me anymore.

The ink is smudged and blurred in spots and Roy’s heart clenched in his chest when he realized that those were probably tears.

I expected it and I’m glad he was able to keep moving forward with everyone’s help. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realize how that’d make me feel when you were here. You’re kinda distracting even when Al’s around.

No higher praise than being able to pull Ed’s attention away from his little brother.

Resembool is the same, which is weird. Germany seemed to change every day. There were always new people coming through or some kind of showcase going on. Did I tell you about the rocket we were building? It’s hard to remember that I’m no longer in a world governed by the laws of “modern science” instead of Alchemy.

I wish you were here. I miss your stupid, smug face.

Oh did he ache for Ed to be able to insult him in person.

It’s your turn to write a letter.

-Edward Elric

Beside his name, Ed had drawn what he assumed was a self-portrait of him sticking his tongue out in a cartoonish style. Charming.

Roy set the letter on the table and rubbed at his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Somehow, the letter only made him miss Ed more. He wanted to ease Ed’s worries and reassure him that he was needed.

Well, he had a letter to write.

Fullmetal,

I thought telling you four times was enough, but maybe your ears were too tiny to hear me correctly. I’m not a colonel anymore so the name isn’t correct. Haven’t we known each other long enough to be a little less informal?

You’re right, it’s freezing up here, and staying warm is near impossible without the fire. I wear two layers of wool socks and I’m still wary that I’m going to get frostbite on one of my watches.

Briggs is in charge of guarding our border. I’m just in charge of keeping watch on the trading routes that weave along the mountain valley for any sign of trouble.

Al may not need you in the same capacity that he did, but I guarantee he’s happier than he’s been in the last two years now that you’re here. From what I’ve heard from both Hawkeye and Miss Rockbell, he always seemed to be looking over his shoulder for you when he’d accomplish anything.

You are absolutely needed, and not just by Al. Never forget that Edward.

Small towns don’t change often so I’m not surprised it seems the same. People grow older, but small towns keep to themselves for the most part. Every once in a while fresh meat joins the community and they’ll be a stir and things might change a little, but generally go back to normal quickly.

City life is vivacious and ever-changing. A bigger place and more people means more changes. My aunt runs a bar and I remember how often the city would change around us.

If by rocket you mean the one you released into that crowd of people, then yes I remember you telling me about it. But feel free to tell me again, you have a knack for storytelling that I didn’t think you’d have.

I wish you were here too. I miss your impish face.

-Roy Mustang

A week later, Roy received his second letter.

Glettner gave him a wry grin and presented it to him with a flourish. “Your sweetheart replied,” he tittered, “should ask for a lock of hair in your next letter or a care package.” He winked at Roy. “Maybe something for those long, lonely nights.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Roy grouched, “it’s not from a lover.”

Glettner sighed dramatically. “Well, certainly not with that attitude! You’re clearly pining, can’t you see it?”

He raised his only visible eyebrow at the man. “Really?”

The other man waved him off. “Nevermind, just get out of here. I’ll see you in a day or so.”

“Take care, Glettner.”

“Yeah, yeah, go read your damn letter.”

Bastard,

FUCK YOU, I GREW.

Not that much Ed, Roy thought with a chuckle.

I hope that’s a better name for you. And I’m not Fullmetal anymore, not really. Sure plenty of people are going to keep calling me that, but I’m not part of the military right now. Still gotta prove I’m not dead and shit.

Do you know how hard it is to try to reinstate documents after they’ve listed you as dead? I was literally two seconds away from straight-up murdering a lawyer who was at city hall because he kept saying I needed more identification. Which is bullshit because I’m DEAD to the government.

This would’ve been really handy when Al and I were running from the military, though. But not now! Luckily, it is being sorted out and I shouldn’t have to wait much longer before I have all my documentation in order.

That was good. Ed had just started the whole process when he left to return to his post and it’d given him a headache just thinking about it.

So you lived with your aunt? Did you grow up in Central?

As much as I’ve traveled, I’m a hick at heart. I still enjoy the peace and quiet of the countryside more than the noise and life of the city. I can live in either though.

A corner of his mouth lifts. Ed preferred anywhere he could read and learn without interruptions. That hadn’t changed.

Are you lonely up there by yourself? I feel like you’re probably spending way too much time criticizing all your past actions and moping. Fuck that. Tell me about something you want to do when you come back to Central. What’s on Roy “Smug Bastard” Mustang’s agenda?

-Ed

Oh, and thanks for saying that. I think I needed to hear that from someone. I’m glad it was you.

Ed,

I guess if you can so kindly call me something else, I can just use your name. And as much as I appreciate your affectionate nickname for me, you can just call me Mustang or even just Roy, it wouldn’t bother me at all. But if you insist on a nickname I suppose I can give you one too, shorty.

I haven’t had to deal with retracting a declaration of the deceased before so I honestly don’t have any advice for you. I’d suggest going through all the hoops that they line up for you to jump through even if a shortcut looks promising. Other people were claiming to be you for fame or what-have-you so they aren’t intentionally trying to be difficult.

Why am I not surprised you actually thought about how useful the situation would’ve been back then… Maybe you’re getting predictable.

I did grow up with my aunt as my legal guardian. Both of my parents passed away when I was a young boy and she took me in. It was a rocky start. I was mourning my parents and terrified of my new living situation. But Chris Mustang always did her best to make sure I was comfortable and taken care of whether it was food or new clothes.

But she also put me to work. I obviously couldn’t work at the bar, but I bused tables and cleaned the place once we closed for the night.

Her bar doubled as an information network with her girls -- my sisters-- acting as spies while going about their business. People talk a lot during sex and will let their guard down if they feel comfortable. I learned my networking strategies from them.

I don’t know if I can imagine you as the typical hick. It’s something about all that rage and attitude that makes me think more of small town punks. But there is something nice about the quiet of the countryside.

It’s not I’m not I suppose I am a bit lonely out here. I don’t really have much communication to speak of besides your letters. They’re the highlight of my days. The only other person I normally talk to right now is the man who runs the post office. I feel like I’m disconnected from people nowadays. Whether that’s because I was part of a coupe that unsettled them or my demeanor is just off-putting. Let me know what you think.

When I get back to Central, the first thing I want to do is look for an apartment. Then I’m not sure. Maybe go back to pursuing the title of Fruher. After the whole Homunculus debacle, I stepped down in a rush to… run as far away from what had happened as I could.

After that… would you like to go out sometime? Get something to drink, eat a good meal with good company?

You’re probably going to have to fight to spend time with me at first. The team kept reminding me that when I was there that they missed me. But I’ll make plenty of time for you.

-Roy

“Roy, you have a package,” Glettner commented the third time he came into the post office that week. “Did you take my advice and ask for a token from them?” He leaned over the counter with a lewd grin. “There’s no telling what’s in here.”

Roy huffed and held out his hand. “Box, Glettner,” Roy ordered. He thought Glettner was funny and the man reminded him of an older, grayer Havoc with all his teasing and good-natured ribbing. It made him miss his team, though.

Glettner deposited the box in his hands before holding out a box cutter, handle-first to Roy. “Can I convince you to open it here? I can even let you use the back room for some privacy if you want.”

Roy shook his head with a put-upon grin. “You seem more excited about this package than I am.”

He shrugged “I don’t think you realize how boring it can get here. Usually the most exciting thing I get in this place is the military personnel transferring sensitive documents.” He scrunched his nose. “I don’t know, guess the whole thing makes my romantic heart sing.”

“You trying to get me to feel sorry for you so I’ll open the package here?”

“That depends, is it working?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Fine, take me to your backroom.”

Glettner threw a fist in the air and gestured to a door on the right. “Follow me, lover-boy.”

He grumbled but followed after the perky man. They weaved through the stacks of boxes and came across a desk. Glettner shoved a few papers to the side so Roy had a spot to put his package on.

Roy set his box down and carefully ran the knife along the taped edges. He shifted through the newspaper that’d been carefully positioned around the gift.

And what a gift it was.

Nestled inside the box was a phone that was almost the exact one that’d sat on his old desk. He gently pulled it out of its protective paper. Now that he could see it fully he noted the wear on some of the parts. The rotary dial was a polished bronze and looked to be the newest piece on the phone. The body of the phone consisted of a few welded pieces of metal but the job was near seamless so unless Ed knew someone who could weld, he’d probably done it himself with alchemy.

He thumbed at the handset and couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. It felt like the same metal as Ed’s new arm was made of and he knew Ed had made that choice on purpose.

“They sent you a phone?” Glettner asked, interrupting Roy’s casual admiration of his gift.

“I’m pretty sure it’s so we can call each other in case we don’t want to wait for the mail system to deliver our messages,” Roy explained.

The other man turned his attention to him sharply. “So I won’t see you anymore?”

Roy shook his head. “No, you’ll still have to see me,” he nodded his head at the phone, “Even with a phone I won’t have a guaranteed connection with where I am, but it gives us the option if we…” He paused, his smile going from soft to joyful, “to hear each other’s voice.”

“Aw fuck,” Glettner sniffled, “you’ve got that mushy look on your face.”

Roy’s face closed off. “Better?”

The postman shook his head. “I think whatever you two are, it makes you better.” He rubbed at his nose and shrugged. “Take that as you will.”

Setting up the phone was relatively easy after he finagled a makeshift antenna to the roof of the cabin. He’d picked up a few pieces of scrap steel and transported his load back to his cabin. With a quick transmutation, he’d constructed an antenna that would ideally not break if the storms got bad.

Ed had suggested he use steel in his letter and if he trusted anyone when it came to metal knowledge it’d be the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric.

He glanced over at the letter he’d set on the table and reread what Ed had written.

… Winry and Al pointed out to me that I could be calling you if I didn’t want to wait to get a letter. But when I asked Riza how to call you she told me you didn’t have one.

What kind of bullshit is that? I figure everyone has a phone but then you get relocated and haven’t bothered to get a phone in the two years you’ve been gone?

There's a large inkblot on the dot of his question mark as if Ed had paused to gather his thoughts but forgotten to pick up his pen.

Sounds like you were in a bad place.

Ed had always had a special gift of understanding why Roy did what he did. Even more so now that he'd matured more and had gone through a similar mindstate.

I get that. I’ve been there. But I’m taking away some of this forced isolation you’ve coveted for yourself.

I’m not telling you that you have to start talking to people now that you have a phone, but try. You may have lost an eye, but you aren’t blind. And you have tons of people who care about you and I know you can see that so don’t keep shutting them out.

Like that.

Everyone else had given him ample space to adjust to his vision change and his disillusionment of the government he'd put so much time and effort into. But that space became hard to contain and soon he'd pushed almost everyone behind the protective wall he'd crafted for himself.

He needed someone to tell him that what he was doing couldn't-- nor should it-- continue.

I’ve written everyone’s number down on the back of this letter just in case you forgot, old man. I hijacked the Rockbell’s landline so I can have a phone in my room. Feel free to call whenever after seven.

I don't care if it's ass o'clock in the morning, call me if you need me or wanna talk or whatever.

Talk to you soon, hopefully.

-Ed

He didn't use the phone for a good three hours until the hands on the clock were just shy of eleven. He tried two fingers of scotch to help him sleep, but it left a smoky aftertaste in his mouth that brought up too many memories of being a walking crematorium.

He finished spinning the dial and waited for the call to be picked up or ignored. It wasn’t that he thought Ed was lying about being able to call whenever, but Ed couldn’t guarantee he’d be by the phone at all times.

There was a click and then a familiar voice echoing through the receiver. “Rockbell Automail, the store hours are from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. but if this is an emergency we’ll see what we can do,” Ed recited before continuing with a knowing tone, “Unless this is a certain soldier out in the middle of nowhere up North who received his package and decided to give me a call.”

Roy wasn’t one you would call a religious man, but he considered praying for patience. “Hello, Edward,” he conceded.

“Fuck… holy fuck Roy,” Ed said with the sort of casual blasphemy only he would dare. There was a shuffling on the other end of the line. “You actually called.”

“Time hasn’t made you any less explicit,” Roy teased. He imagined a metal middle finger jerked at him in return.

“It’s been what? A month?” Ed snorted, “If my cursing hasn’t changed since I was a kid then a month has no chance of changing it.”

He grinned and propped his head up with his hand. “You’re right about that.” He looked around the room for something to focus on, landing on Ed’s letter. “How are you?” The question came out softer than he’d like, but it’s what he meant.

Ed made a noncommittal noise. “It’s weird. The old lady and Winry keep treating me like I’m still a little kid. Maybe it’s because they didn’t get to see me grow up over the last two years. But they’re doing their best to adjust.”

Roy hummed in understanding. “It’s not dissimilar to a person coming back from deployment. They know the person who left, not necessarily the person who comes back.”

“Yeah, I guess… It’s still taking some getting used to. How come you didn’t treat me like I was the teen you last saw?”

“You’re a brat, but it was easy to see you’d changed.” That golden hair pulled back into a ponytail instead of his signature braid. The broad shoulders that filled out his brown trenchcoat and the bookish outfit underneath. He might mourn the loss of the man’s leather pants, but he looked every inch of the man he’d become. His thoughts made him brave. “You’ve become quite the looker, Ed.”

A sputter from the other line had Roy chuckling into his shoulder. It’s enchanting to hear Ed’s embarrassment over the phone and a longing yawned in his chest to see the ruby flush against the man’s cheeks. To see the way he’d turn incredulous eyes to gawk at Roy like he’d spoken gibberish. To see Ed fight the smile that’d reveal his teeth in joy instead of a threat.

He just wanted Ed. Here, with him. Or him with Ed. Together.

Glettner was more aware of Roy’s feelings than he was.

“-up! I hope you’re not mocking me you ass,” Ed grumbleing finally making it through Roy’s thoughts.

“I’m not mocking you, you really are beautiful.”

The line remained silent for a stretch and Roy wondered briefly if he’d pushed Ed a little too much. That he’d made the man uncomfortable with his sudden forwardness.

“You look pretty good yourself,” Ed mumbled.

His heart skipped a beat in his chest and his cheeks grew warm. “Not much to look at compared to you,” Roy managed to say.

“Yeah, okay, sure,” the eye roll unmistakably tacked onto the statement. “I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep.”

“Couldn’t I have called you because I wanted to hear your voice?”

Ed actually laughed at that. “You could and I’m flattered, bastard, but I can hear the exhaustion in your voice.”

“Alright, yes I can’t sleep.”

“What do you want me to do about that?”

What indeed. He already felt better after hearing Ed’s voice so perhaps more of that? “Tell me about your day.”

“As long as you're willing to pay anything the Rockbell’s might be charged for the long-distance call, I’ll talk all night.”

“Just until I fall asleep should do the trick.”

“Well get comfy and I’ll tell you about my return to city hall.”

Roy settled as comfortably as he could on his couch and closed his eyes, letting himself drift upon the lilts and steadiness of Ed’s voice.

As they reach the two-month mark of their separation, Roy was getting antsy. His transfer back to Central seemed to be in a stalemate. Too much silence from both sides for Roy’s patience to tolerate. He already sent another letter to Ed to inform him that he still didn’t have a timeframe for his return.

With no set date for his relocation, he got wrapped up in his thoughts. The snow bit angrily at his cheeks and he’d started moving his post office trips to every three days because he couldn’t get his body to plow through the snow. The cabin’s walls were thin and the flames fanned uselessly in the fireplace no matter how close Roy put himself to the heat source.

Loneliness he’d been able to ignore for years was near intolerable now. He’d talked to his team, reconnected with Riza, or at least started mending the relationship that’d been damaged in the wake of Bradley’s defeat and the loss of his eye.

But ever since his realization during the phone call with Ed, nothing seemed to fill the Ed-sized space in his heart. He pondered on the feelings he’d developed for Ed, questioned why he loves him but only came up with Ed himself as the reason.

He took a sip of his tea when he heard a knock on his door.

The suddenness of the noise was enough to startle him into almost dropping his mug and he turned a wary eye to his door. He didn’t get visitors, not out here. The only time anyone had visited him it’d been about the strange phenomenon that ultimately led to Ed returning home to them.

He doubted something that severe would pop-up again in such a short span of time, but stranger things had happened so he couldn’t rule out the possibility.

Slipping on his gloves, he cautiously approached the door. He waited until he heard another knock before he openned the door, his fingers poised to snap.

And there’s Ed.

Snow and ice clung to his clothes and he noted that Ed’s trench coat seemed to now be lined with a fur of some kind. He took in Ed’s wind-chafed skin and red nose, saw the ice crystals that had attempted to attach themselves to his lashes.

This couldn’t be real. He must’ve fallen asleep and he’s dreaming. He had to be.

Except Ed was waving his hand obnoxiously in his face, grinning at him with the pride of a show dog. “You still in there or did I break you?” Ed asked.

He gaped uselessly at the figure that stood in front of him. “Ed?” He rasped, still not believing his eyes.

“The one and only.” He tilted his head to the side, his smile going lazy. “Are you gonna make me stay out here much longer? Because I’m pretty sure my toes have fucking frozen off and I only have five. I really can’t lose them.”

Roy snapped his jaw shut with a click and stepped back to let Ed in. “Yeah, of course, come in.”

Ed blustered in with all the hesitation of a tornado, stripping out of his dripping coat and unwinding the scarf from around his neck, hanging both over his kitchen table.

“Thank fuck you have a fireplace,” Ed grunted, holding both of his hands out towards the heat source. “If Winry and Granny hadn’t hooked me up with this new automail I would’ve really gotten frostbite.”

Roy nodded absent-mindedly, still stuck on the reality that Ed was here in his cabin. “How-How did you get here?”

Ed’s forehead furrowed. “Well after I took a train up here I asked around if anyone knew where I’d find a soldier with an eyepatch, the postman pointed me in the right direction.” He shrugged. “Then I walked here.”

He'd have to thank Glettner the next time he saw him. Or avoid him at all cost because the man was never going to let him live this down. He probably felt like he was some sort of matchmaker, guaranteeing Ed made it to him.

“Through all the snow?”

The man squinted at him. “Yes?” It came out as a question more than an answer. “Are you okay? You’re really stuck on this whole ‘Ed’s here with me’ thing.”

And what’s he supposed to say to that? That he’s still convinced that this could only be a dream because this sort of thing doesn’t happen to him. “I just never expected you to come here.”

He gets a bemused expression from Ed for that. “Why not? I got your letter.” He huffed and lounged on his couch. “So they can’t even give you a date?”

He shook his head. “Not now, maybe in a week or two, I’ll get an answer from them.” Roy shuffled awkwardly for a moment trying to decide what to say. “Do you want some tea?”

Ed snorted, his nose crinkling. “I could go for some tea, but I’m fine with something stronger if you've got it.”

He cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms. “Don’t you mean if I’m feeling generous?”

“Nope,” Ed chimed.

“Let’s start with tea,” Roy snagged the only other mug he owned and poured Ed a cup, “get you warm first. After that?” He handed the mug to Ed who took it gratefully. “We’ll see about alcohol.”

Humming in agreement Ed took an aborted sip, cursing as the liquid scorched his tongue. “Fuck, dammit you could’ve warned me it was this hot,” Ed grumbled, glaring at his mug.

“I didn’t know you were expecting cold tea.”

“Bastard.”

“Brat.”

The jibes were gentle despite themselves and Roy felt the familiar contentment in his being that he’d been getting when he was with Ed in any capacity. Whether it’s a phone call or in-person or even in a letter. Ed remained a stained glass masterpiece in his heart.

They sat in campanionable silence. The flickering of the fireplace casted a red glow around the room except for Ed. Ed’s always an exception. Instead of the red overlay across Ed, he glowed gold.

His skin -- tanned and scarred-- reminded Roy of wedding rings and sun-warmed bronze. His eyes of finely crafted jewelry and the lace-gold details in famous paintings from the west. And his hair. The finest silk, bundled into a ponytail that trailed to at least the bottom of his shoulder blades.

He desperately wanted to say something to hear more of Ed’s voice. A voice that had haunted his mind for the past two years. A desperation to take, take, take until he had all of Ed.

“I didn’t get to say this before,” Ed said, finally breaking their silence. “But I’m a fan of the eyepatch.”

From anyone else, he would’ve ignored the comment, but Roy knew that Ed was being serious right now. “It was a necessity after Bradley got it,” Roy said, setting his cup down and bringing a hand to the patch. “It isn’t a pretty sight, even Hawkeye had trouble looking at it.”

“I doubt that,” Ed took another sip from his drink, “if anything she probably still feels guilty that you lost it at all.”

He made a noncommittal noise. “No one should feel guilty about this, I got it taking Bradley down. And I survived.”

“You did.” Ed grinned at him. “And I think the patch makes you look rugged.”

Roy snorted and quirked a brow at him. “Sure that’s not just from living out here for the past two years?”

Ed’s eyes rolled so hard that Roy’s surprised they didn’t just pop out of his skull. “You haven’t grown any stupid facial hair yet so I’d say it’s the patch.”

“You don’t think I’d look good with facial hair?”

The tips of Ed’s ears flushed. “I didn’t say that,” he mumbled, “I am saying you’d look god awful with a moustache.”

There is a niggling temptation to grow one just to get on Ed's nerves but he pushed that thought aside. He heaved a dramatic sigh. "I suppose I'll refrain for now."

Ed laughed and it reverberated through him with the warmth of an embrace. He wanted to bottle the noise up and tuck it into the spaces between his ribs. Roy couldn't remember the last time he felt this content.

The other man was still looking at him when he focused back on their conversation. "Can I see it?"

Roy’s face closed off and he shifted awkwardly on the couch. “You… you want to see it?” He clarified because surely he'd heard wrong.

Ed shrugged and scooted a little closer. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He asked like it should be obvious to Roy, but doesn’t comment on it. Roy couldn't bring himself to deny Ed something that Roy was readily willing to give. Wanted to give. And maybe there's a small part of him that wanted to show someone. To not have someone shy away from the topic. To look at all of him now and not who he was before.

Maybe he didn't just leave Central because he wanted to still help his country through a corrupt system.

Maybe he was tired of hiding.

He reached his hand up towards the strings that held his eyepatch in place but hesitates. "Are you sure you want to see it?" He wondered if he would want to see it if this was someone else. He knew for sure that he’d want to see Ed. Roy swore to himself that he’d never hesitate to look at Ed’s scars, not a single one of them would be skipped by his eyes.

Ed's eyes softened and he moved himself closer to Roy. They were barely a foot away from the other, their knees knocking together. The solid press of Ed’s automail knee against his own was surprisingly grounding. He wonderd if anyone else felt this way about Ed’s prosthetic limbs.

Ed didn't hesitate when he cupped Roy's face with his metal hand. He expected the harsh metal to be icy to the touch – unlike his leg that was still covered by the thick material of Ed’s pants – but it was heat-licked by the fire. Roy couldn't help but lean into the touch with a pleased sigh.

Mirth twinkled in Ed's eyes like honeyed gold. He ran his thumb along the bottom edge of his eyepatch. "I'm sure."

I want to see you. That’s what Roy heard inbetween Ed’s words. It didn't need to be said. Ed had already proven his surety with his touch, but it comforted Roy to hear it all the same.

The satin ties of his eyepatch were easy enough to undo after he loosened the knot and soon the patch was fluttering down into his lap. He kept the eye closed for now, letting Ed see the mess of scars from the enucleation and trauma from Bradley’s blade. He watched Ed’s face for any reaction through his good eye, watching as he took in his face as a whole.

The first brush of Ed’s metal hand on the scars had him letting out a shuddering breath. His heart was pounding erratically in his chest and he couldn’t stop his sudden panic. It’s just Ed. Edward was the only one here with him. It’s just them. Together. Here. Now and not then. This steel was warm and nothing like the biting edge of a blade.

A second hand joined the first, this one with calluses and worn nails that worked their way through his hair. Instantly, he found himself relaxing under the ministrations of Ed’s talented fingers. Losing time or just forgetting everything that wassn’t Edward Elric.

“Come on, lemme see those eyes of yours, Colonel Bastard,” Ed urged, his thumb teasing along Roy’s cheekbone.

Despite himself, Roy found himself smiling. “Not a colonel anymore, Fullmetal,” he reminded Ed, “and I only have one eye.”

“Not Fullmetal anymore, Roy.”

He could hear his name on Ed’s lips for the rest of his life and Roy would never stop feeling his heart skip a beat. “Ed.”

Slowly, he opened both of his eyes and went back to watching Ed’s face. The breath hitched in Ed’s lungs for only a second before it settled back to normal. Roy couldn’t blame him. The clear conformer that prevented his eyelid from collapsing into the socket gave a clear view of the hollow interior. He hadn’t bothered getting a prosthetic eye, not when he’d been out here by himself for so long. His doctors still weren’t sure when he would even be able to wear one given the damage done to his eyelid and ocular cavity.

Instead of the multitude of reactions that Roy had prepared himself for, Ed gave him a gentle smile and cupped his face with both hands. “There you are.”

“How do I look?” Roy asked as though he couldn’t see the way Ed looks at him.

Maybe he couldn’t, because there’s a touch of uncertainty to Roy’s question that he couldn’t write off. Whether it’s over the way the scars mar his handsome face or over what Ed might think about his appearance, Roy couldn’t decide.

“Like you can take on the world,” Ed said without hesitation.

Stealing himself, Roy closed the distance between them and sealed their mouths together. Ed’s lips are chapped from his journey through the snow, but warm and solid against his own. He didn’t intensify the kiss, keeping it chaste since Ed hadn’t started to kiss him back.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from Ed trying to catch the younger man’s eyes. Did he ruin this? “Ed?”

“Kiss me again,” Ed ordered but didn’t bother waiting for Roy to act, instead grabbing two handfuls of his shirt and smashing their lips together.

It’s messy, too much tongue and their teeth clack painfully against each other like Ed wanted to devour him, but he dived right in. He took control of the kiss, guiding Ed’s lips to slide against his own at a more sedate pace. The corners of his mouth turned up when Ed sighed against his mouth, a near-silent moan escaping him.

Roy trailed a hand up Ed’s back until he reached the end of the man’s ponytail. He wrapped the silken strands around his fingers and tugged lightly. Ed splayed his hands against the plains of his chest, releasing his shirt from his grasp.

When he found himself desperate for oxygen, he pulled away once more. Ed made a displeased groan but sat back enough to stare at Roy.

The affection and happiness that sparkled in Ed’s eyes was overwhelming and he couldn’t help but tell Ed exactly how he felt. “I think I love you,” Roy whispered.

Ed smiled back at him, his lips kiss-bruised and tempting. “Why do you think I’m here, Roy?”

He didn’t have to say it because Ed always showed you how he felt. So when Ed tilted his head back, Roy capitulates to the silent request, sealing their mouths together again.

A flame captured by the glint of gold and steel.

#fmasecretsanta2020 #RoyEd #fma 03 #falling in love #secret santa #fma #fanfic #royed fic #roy's eyepatch as a plot point #eye trauma is mentioned but very briefly and it doesn't mention any blood #letter writing as a wooing tactic #Roy is PINING #Ed is PINING #They're idiots in love until they aren't #Ed's CoS outfit #conqueror of shamballa and end of 03 mentioned #Glettner is any RoyEd fan really #my fic #my fanfic

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youngster-monster · 3 years

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The City v. Ahamkara

Prologue - Bloody and Raw

The way back is a blur. Cayde can’t tell if he’s moving through a dream or reality, if he’s moving or sitting still with the world flowing around him. It comes to him in disjointed snapshots, brief bursts of movement before everything freezes again like an old laggy monitor. Fire from the wreckage of the Prison; a gunshot; Petra’s voice, concerned, and his own, distant to his own ears, pantomiming humor even though he has no idea what words are leaving his mouth.

Through all of it the only tangible constant is a hand wrapped around his wrist. Razel, his brain supplies, insistent even as a part of him argues back, not quite. He thinks he can feel claws scratch lightly against the painted surface of his arm. It’s false, of course. He can’t feel input that sensitive usually and certainly not now, with half of his receptors shot to hell. Maybe his processor is making up for lost feedback with imagined ones. Not reality as much as what he expects reality to be like — new, and absurd, and scratchy like a bird perched on his arm and poking its tiny little bird-claws into the joint of his wrist to keep its balance.

Perhaps the pinprick of not-quite-pain is impossible but what isn’t, today?

He’s walking on his own two feet, although there’s a great deal more stumbling than walking involved: that’s one. He won’t call it a miracle but it’s a struggle to find a word that fits the impossible-made-possible just as well.

Sundance is dead. He forces himself to think the whole sentence, even though it hurts like a bitch in a deep part of himself he’d rather not look at. Better to have it hurt now than fester in the dark and poison him. He’s seen what that kind of grief does to guardians. There’s a good reason so few of them survive the initial loss of their Ghost. He never thought he would, himself: anything good enough to kill Sundance would surely get him, too.

But it didn’t. That’s another for the Impossible tally he’s keeping for himself.

Razel’s grip tightens slightly, protectively, as if he caught the tail-end of that thought. Here it is. The last item on the Impossible list, the one Cayde is even less keen to linger on. Sundance’s death is not an immediate, pressing matter. It’s done; there’s nothing else he can do but withstand it now. Whatever’s up with Razel is an ongoing issue and there’s nothing he wants more than to avoid thinking about it.

He’s unlikely to get any luck with that but a man can hope, yeah?

It takes an eternity to reach their ship, falling forward rather than walking until they’re in reach of a transmat and then wincing his way through the touch of an unfamiliar-familiar Ghost as Cubix transports them to the Queen of Hearts. The impact of his feet on the metal flooring makes a heavy, echoing sound. Razel doesn’t make one at all. He’s like a ghost himself, suddenly, taking twice as much space as usual with none of the flailing that should come with it.

That’s when it catches up to him in earnest — no more of that shell shocked avoidance shit. It must be something in the air, he muses, that settles too heavily on his mind until he buckles under it. Something about the quiet of his own ship, the distant sound of howling and crashing and chaos replaced with the gentle hum of an idle engine; something about the stars blinking cold and distant through the cockpit; something about the persistent rattling in his chest, where the universe twisted itself to fulfill Razel’s desire and still didn’t manage to fix the minutiae of his internal machinery. As if water-cooling is a concept beyond even paracausal miracles.

It’s all, suddenly, too much.

Cayde collapses into the pilot’s seat, clunking and creaking, all the air wheezing out of him like a sorry bagpipe. He feels his entire weight suddenly, every pound of metal and wires, in a way he can’t blame on the difference between the Coast and the artificial gravity aboard the ship. He feels his entire age, each and every single endless year of it, remembered or not. Fuck, but he’s too old for this.

And Razel still won’t stop touching him. Hasn’t ever since— ever since. Even now he has a hand on Cayde’s shoulder, fingertips tucked under the collar of his cloak to lay on the bare metal of his neck underneath.

It’s a comfort. It’s a threat. It makes Cayde’s skin crawl. He wants to jerk away from it. He wants to lean into it. He doesn’t know what he wants, or what he feels beyond confusion, exhaustion, and a bitter kind of relief — the exhausting feeling of having held a snake in your hands and trading the fear of being bitten for the venom.

He’s not used to feeling like that near Razel — one of his closest friends, someone he trusts.

“You okay?”

Stupidly, he expected Razel’s voice to sound different. It’s the same as always: a little higher-pitched than you’d expect, with that slight Awoken flanging to it. At least he’s always pinned the sound of it on Razel being an Awoken and, as such, a little bit weird, as is expected. Now he’s not so sure.

“I’m alive,” Cayde replies grimly. “Sundance is dead and my best friend—” he stumbles there, but what good is a Hunter who balks at a challenge? “Is a wish-granting space dragon in disguise, but I’m alive. Silver lining, right?”

Razel curls into himself, looking small and hurt. It’s hard to see the monster in him just then — even harder than before. He just looks like Razel, and Cayde hates seeing Razel like that — like he just got hit over the head and doesn’t know what to do about it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice winding into a white at the end.

All the fight goes out of Cayde at once. It’s not guilt; not quite. He’s too drained for guilt. But it’s a little bit close to it.

He lifts a hand and lets it fall heavily on Razel’s head, ruffling his hair. “You did what you could, buddy.”

The frown he gets in return is fierce, but no fiercer than seems normal for Razel. He’s quick to anger and even quicker to forget about it, and as dramatic as his moods may be they’re rarely destructive. At least not for the right people. Cabal are all out of luck on that front. Still there’s something in his eyes — a wild, unnatural sharpness to the familiar orange-gold glow that makes a previously unknown animal instinct in Cayde raise its hackles. Whatever happened in the Prison, whatever bolt broke open to release the creature hidden under his features, there’s no locking it back up.

It suits him, though. Perhaps it’s always been there, lurking under the surface, showing glimpses of itself through Razel’s weirdest habits. Perhaps Razel isn’t that different now from a day ago; there’s comfort in that.

After all, he broke open reality to save Cayde. That must mean something, right?

“I didn’t,” Razel says mulishly. “There has to be something more I could have done. I mean—”

He never finishes that sentence. Not that Cayde needs him to. He’s seen what Razel did do. There’s still blood flaking on his fingertips from when he wiped it off Razel’s face; there’s still a dent in his chest where a hit that crumpled his chest like a soda can should have killed him and didn’t. What else might an Ahamkara do if given the chance?

There, he said it. The damning word. It’s not as if there’s a point pussy-footing around it anymore.

“You did what you could,” Cayde repeats, giving Razel another headache-inducing pat from his half-numb arm. “And a damn sight better than what anybody else could have done for me in that situation, lemme tell you. You’re not a miracle worker.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Well— okay, maybe you are. But you’re about as qualified as I am to grant wishes, so no one’s about to blame you for botching it somewhat.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and he catches Razel’s wince in the corner of his eyes, but that goes ignored as another matter occurs to Cayde.

They might not blame Razel for the botched resurrection — knowing what they do of the limit of Ahamkara abilities, and that’s very little, it’s hard to tell whether or not he could have done more. But they will blame him for everything else. Not the near death experience, no. But being an Ahamkara? Hiding it from the City, the Vanguard, even unknowingly? It would be a crime, if any of them had known it was possible enough to make a law punishing it. It will be a crime once they catch wind of it.

And Cayde is thoroughly weirded out by the whole thing, but he’s not about to let his best friend get locked up for having saved his life.

“I have a few questions,” he says, although he’s not sure he truly wants them answered. Unfortunately there won’t be another time for it. “But once we’re home— not a word of it. Capische?”

Razel nods hard enough to dislocate a vertebrae.

Satisfied, Cayde punches in the code for manual piloting and sets the ship on course for the City. They’ve got this.

It occurs to Cayde that they have not got this when Ikora comes knocking at their door two days later at five a.m.

At any other hour it would be nothing out of the usual. He likes to think they’re friends, the two of them, and although it’s usually Vanguard business that brings her to their front step she’s always welcome to drop by unnanounced. He’s been expecting her, anyway.

When Razel and him crawled back to the Tower, dirty and exhausted and shell shocked, she was there to greet them. She was the first one to see Cayde’s sorry state, to ask — in a reassuringly familiar kind but straight to the point manner — what had happened. She’s the one who told him to take a leave, before Zavala even got there to order him the same. It was only a matter of days before she came by to see how he’s doing and kick him out of any self-pitying hole he might have dug for himself in the meantime.

But that’s a visit one makes during the day, or in the evening when she manages to claw back some free time from her mercilessly tight schedule. Nothing good ever comes from a five a.m visit.

Cayde opens the door in his pjs, bare feet against the cold floorboard, to Ikora and a Guardian in full armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re holding a rifle against their chest, in that kind of parade rest that Titans naturally adopt when they’ve been told they won’t have to use it and they don’t entirely believe it.

He fell asleep not two hours ago, but any bleariness remaining from his dramatically shortened night disappears at that sight.

“Mornin’,” he says, hand clenching around the door. He could slam it in their face, but the grim set of Ikora’s mouth tells him they’re far beyond that point. He shouldn’t even have opened it.

Her voice, when she speaks up, is that of the Warlock Vanguard — all business.

“Holliday sent me your records.”

Blinking, Cayde tries to connect that information to the current situation. Holliday, the shipwright. Holliday who’s been working on fixing the Queen of Hearts with a fervor that suggests it’s the only thing she knows how to fix in this damned situation. Holliday—

Who would have had to access the ship’s records to know exactly what to fix. The kind of records that include any and all audio captured aboard in the last few days.

“Fuck,” he says plainly.

She gives him a compassionate look that only makes him feel bad, until it darts up — towards the rest of the apartment — and then he feels worse. The Titan’s grip tightens on their rifle. The faint creaking of their gloves is the only sound for a good long while.

Slowly so as to not startle them into action, Cayde turns his head to look behind his shoulder. Razel has frozen in place next to the couch, holding Admiral in his arms. The cat jumps out of his grasp and pads towards Cayde, rubbing against his legs. Razel just stands there, licking his lips as if wondering if he still has time to bolt back inside their room.

“Is everything okay?” He asks eventually. He looks directly at Ikora when he says it — always does, when he’s not sure what’s going on. She’s his Vanguard; his lighthouse.

“Razel,” she says. It’s not a greeting. It’s the beginning of a longer sentence — of something worse. “You stand accused of treason, perjury, and crimes against the City at large. You will be put into Vanguard custody and judged in a court of law. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court—”

The rest turns into senseless muttering as electrical buzzing overtakes Cayde’s ears — the sound of some Light-forsaken processor going into overdrive in an effort to keep him from hyperventilating. The Titan shoulders their way past him, marches to a still immobile Razel and snaps a set of handcuffs around his wrists. There’s a burst of light as they close; Cubix materializes next to him, the first Cayde has seen of him since they left the Shattered Coast. He’s been keeping his distance to make it easier on him, Cayde thinks dumbly, that small, idiotic kindness the only thing he can focus on at the moment.

Cubix’s voice has gone shrill with worry. “You can’t do this! Ikora—”

She shakes her head, her face set in a stern expression to cover any deeper feeling she may harbor. She’s a professional; Cayde doesn’t have it in himself to admire that, right now. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Cubix, I’ll have to ask you to come with me. Alone.”

Reluctantly, he does, flying up to her. The Titan pulls Razel aside as he floats past, and they put themselves between him and Cayde when they march him past. As if they’re afraid allowing him to touch either of them would make him explode out of his restraints somehow. As it is, he remains meek as anything as he shuffles after them. It’s an incredible sight: Razel with his hair down and messy like a bird’s nest from an uneasy sleep, dressed in nothing more than a shirt — Cayde’s — his underwear — pink — and a single sock — it has a hole at the big toe — being led away in handcuffs by a Titan twice as large as he is who keeps a tight grip on his arm as if he’s liable to eat them.

But he doesn’t, and the door closes on them with a soft click and one last apologetic look from Ikora. Cayde is left behind, in a dark apartment, empty save for himself and the loud meowing of his cat in the kitchen and the gnawing impression that none of this would have happened if he wasn’t such a gigantic idiot.

Somewhere, the sun rises.

He doesn’t see it.

[Read ch. 2 on AO3]

#writing #destiny 2 #cayde-6 #destiny oc #my ocs #razel #bday gift for baronetcoins!!#anyway this is the only part of it that is readable on tumblr #everything else is heavy on the html so. all ao3

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