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esamastation · 3 years

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Xerxes au snippet

The first official political overture the small desert nation of Xerxes makes towards Amestris in over fifty years is a year after the end of the Ishvalan Civil War. Though it is expected to concern the war, and the border between Amestris and Xerxes, or perhaps even Amestrian use of Alchemy in the war, is has nothing to do with the bloody conflict, or it's relation to Xerxes' famously pacifistic view on alchemy.

It is a simple, polite appeal to the Amestrian Government – an invitation for an Amestrian automail mechanic to join the Xerxesian court.

"Bit odd," Havoc mutters, after a copy of the letter has gone around the office a few times. "What do they need an automail mechanic for – isn't Xerxesian medical alchemy, like… world famous?"

"For given the value of fame, yes," Roy agrees, fingers crossed together and a thoughtful look on his face. "They say early Amestrian alchemists learned from Xerxesians. We still use a lot of their symbols in our alchemy – but if Xerxesian alchemists are world famous about anything these days, it's their reticence. No outsider has seen much about the way they go about things these days, if they even practice alchemy anymore."

Of course there are rumours, there are always rumours, and there's history – the great and wealthy kingdom of Xerxes, alchemically on top of the world and widely known for their wisdom and knowledge and the miracles they achieved… who reached too far, tried to achieve the power of gods, and got struck down by said gods for it. How accurate that is, no one knows, but it's known that some disaster hundreds of years ago devastated the kingdom, killed most of its people, and it never fully recovered. Now it's people can only barely scrape by, living in huts and caves and underground, and they don't treat with outsiders much beyond the absolutely necessary.

Beyond trade routes established to get Amestrian goods through Xerxes to Xing, there's never been much interest for Xerxes, except maybe for it's grand history and it's many ruins. It doesn't help that Xerxes, as far as anyone knows, has never really reached outside, keeping to its isolationist values – and since it has little to offer to other nations… no one reached back, either. As far as anyone knows, Xerxes hasn't advanced at all scientifically or technologically in the last hundred years.

Which makes the fact that they want specifically an automail mechanic, an craftsman of one of Amestris' most advanced technology, rather interesting, doesn't it?

"I hear they took a lot of Ishvalan refugees during the war," Fuery says – he's the one holding the letter, reading it through.

Roy hums grimly. There's that, though took in might be stretching it a bit. Xerxes didn't do much to protect its borders – there was no need, with a desert all around their kingdom. So, when Ishvalan refugees sought to escape the conflict and set out to the desert, there was nothing but the terrain itself to stop them. Who knows how many Ishvalans made it through the desert, on foot and probably hurt…

"Why'd they send this to our office?" Breda asks, casting a look at Roy.

"They sent it to Grumman who sent it to us," Roy sighs and leans back in his chair. "The Lieutenant General wants us to find a suitable mechanic and then escort them – along with the Fürher's greetings – to Xerxes. The mission isn't exactly time sensitive, but since we're in the East…"

There's probably many reasons it was thrown their way, really. Way to keep those uppity brats from East busy, easily justified with them being closest to the matter at hand. It also wasn't exactly vital as diplomatic missions go – but it was still a diplomatic mission to a foreign nation, which means that Roy would want to handle it himself instead of leaving it to any of his subordinates. Especially since it's to Xerxes – what Alchemist wouldn't give an arm and a leg for a glimpse at how Xerxesian alchemy is these days? So, it was expected that he'd go himself. Which would get him out of people's way for a while, and maybe open up a slot for someone else to be promoted to his place, depending how long it would take.

How annoying. Grumman can be one clever son of a bitch when he wants to be.

"Right," Roy says while his team exchanges looks. "I want a list of all automail mechanics of East on my desk by the end of the day – if you can figure out their feelings about Ishval and if they have any history with the Ishvalan Civil War, that'd be a plus. Get to work."

"Sir!" his team answers, and immediately get to it, Fuery and Fallman both heading out to probably check records, while Havoc fishes out a phone book and Breda gets the phone. Beside Roy, Hawkeye gives him a look.

"Should I start preparing for travel?" she asks mildly.

"If you please," Roy says, turning to his paperwork. "We'll take Breda with us."

"Understood."

Over the course of next two days, they list and investigate various automail shops in the east, Roy privately wincing at how many there are, and how many of them are less than a decade old. The Ishvalan Civil War had been a boon to the business, and a lot of mechanics from the south moved in to take advantage of the situation. Lots of new up and coming mechanics, cutting their teeth in on a lot of freshly traumatised soldiers.

It left a lot of them… unsuitable for a mission likely to involve Ishvalan refugees.

"Known for his Anti-Ishvalan sentiments," Breda says, crossing out another potential automail shop. "This one has a No Refugees sign on his shop front, which probably means the same thing. This one has a pretty high record of automail rejection syndrome. This one has had two patients die on the operation table…"

Roy rubs a hand over his forehead, already imagining having to reach for the Southern District to find someone sensible in Rush Valley, when Breda offers him a potential. "Rockbell Automail, in business for decades before the Ishvalan Conflict even began."

"Rockbell," Roy says, lifting his head. "Any relation to the two late Doctors Rockbell?"

"Yep. Son and daughter in law of Doctor Pinako Rockbell, the head mechanic of the shop," Breda says and lays the file on his desk. "Their daughter is currently an apprentice mechanic in the shop, too."

Roy grimaces at that, but accepts the file, leafing quickly through it. Old, well established shop, known for their skill and efficiency, with very high praise from a lot of former customers and no known record of either deaths on operation table, auto mail rejections, or any anti-Ishvalan sentiments. There is a slight issue of the head mechanic being an old woman and the only other mechanic being a young girl, but…

It's promising.

"Phone," Roy says, and Hawkeye quickly lifts it on his desk, turning it toward him so that he can dial easily.

"Rockbell Automail, Pinako Rockbell speaking," a woman's voice answers the phone promptly, her tone brisk.

"Doctor Rockbell, my name is Roy Mustang, I'm a Lieutenant Colonel from the East Area Headquarters – may I have a moment of your time?"

"Certainly," Doctor Rockbell answers, no noticeable change in her tone. "What can do for you, Lieutenant Colonel? Aside from automail, presumably."

"I am currently looking for a skilled automail mechanic to take part in a diplomatic mission, likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Roy says. "Your shop came up as highly recommended."

"Hrm. What kind of diplomatic mission? Don't the military have their own automail mechanics?"

"There are some, but none in the Eastern Headquarters," Roy admits – probably because the East has such surplus of civilian mechanics these days. "And I'll be frank, the likely length of this mission makes it difficult to use any of our military mechanics. The mission is to Xerxes, and will likely take weeks, if not months."

"… Xerxes?" now the old woman's voice changes, growing a little incredulous.

"Yes, the Xerxes Royal Family sent the Amestrian government an appeal for a skilled automail mechanic to join their court, and I was tasked with the mission of finding one," Roy explains and leans back, turning to look out of the window while he talks. "You would be well compensated for your trouble, however long it would last."

"Is this… a permanent position? In Xerxes?" Still incredulous.

"We don't know as of yet, the treaties are yet to be drawn. You would naturally be part of the negotiations and your wishes and needs would be taken into account," Roy assures her. "I understand this is a bit much so suddenly, and I will hold it in no way against you if you refuse outright – though I am hoping that if that is the case, then perhaps you, as a well established mechanic, might be able to point me in the way of more suitable candidates…"

Honestly, with a shop as old and as well established as hers, Roy doubts very much she would take him up on the mission – she probably has a whole lot of regular clients and steady stream of income, and no need to move. But, it never hurts to ask.

The phone line is quiet for a moment as the old mechanic thinks. "I need to talk with my apprentice for a moment, can I call you back in, say, two hours?"

"Certainly," Roy agrees, and gives her his office number. "We'll be looking forward to your call."

"Right – one more thing. You said it's likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Doctor Rockbell says. "How'd you mean?"

"We don't know for sure, the appeal didn't explain the need for a mechanic. But during the Ishvalan Civil War, many Ishvalan refugees fled to Xerxes. So we thought it safe to assume the two are connected."

"Ah," the mechanic says knowingly. "And they put a State Alchemist in charge of finding a solution."

Roy swallows. Ah. She knows about him. It's not entirely surprising, but… "They did indeed," is all he says. There's no real explanation he can give, no excuse. It is what it is."

"Hm," Doctor Rockbell answers, noncommittal. "I will call back in two hours."

And she does, accepting the mission with two conditions. The military would help her pack up her entire shop and all the materials and tools would be transported with them – which was understandable, even if it tripled the estimated convoy size. The other condition was that she was taking her eleven year old apprentice with her. Both conditions Roy readily agreed to, tasking Havoc and Fallman with her packing while the rest of the team arranged the convoy.

"Guess we're going to Xerxes then. We're going to need a lot of camels," Breda muses.

"Yes," Roy agrees and sighs. It would be a hard journey and probably a hard mission, and likely one for very little gain in the end. Still. Xerxes. His alchemy master would've killed for the opportunity. Might as well take full advantage of it, and learn whatever he can, even if it's only from broken murals on ancient ruins.

Hmm... not sure I’m getting Mustang’s voice right.

Edit: Also tumblr eats italics for breakfast apparently.

#fanfiction #fma #fullmetal alchemist #au #roy mustang #pinako rockbell #etc

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bisexual-inuyasha · 3 years

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The Hook

Prompt: “Tell me to stop touching you.” “No.”

Chapter One: Meeting

Ling was supposed to be meeting his future husband. Not right now, but soon. Far too soon.

When he was a child, before his mother had unveiled the curse of his lineage, he had dreamed of love. He had dreamed of sweet arms around his shoulders. He had dreamed of his love’s hair tickling his nose while they laid under the Xing stars and fell asleep.

And now his heart was breaking.

And maybe that was why he was one bottle down on the sweet wine, shirt loose and feet bare in the gardens. His vision blurred, only a little, but that made it easier to pretend the white flowers in the arches were stars. But no amount of drunken stupor could turn alone into not alone.

Inside the palace was a feast. People chattered on without him, somehow not bothering to find him in his own party. So far away but close enough he could still hear the band’s music warbling through the night air. It hadn’t been difficult at all to slip a bottle into his jacket and disappear through the back doors.

He should have grabbed two bottles, he thought. “Maybe I can go back in and leave again.”

“Not a fan of this kind of thing?”

The voice came from somewhere above him. He didn’t feel like turning his head to see who it was. “What?”

“Do you usually make a habit of slipping away and drinking yourself stupid, or is today an exception?” A foot nudged his, the sensation of hard leather unpleasant against his skin. “I don’t think your new husband will approve.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ling closed his eyes. He didn’t recognize the voice. Whoever it was could fuck off. “If you tell on me, I’ll just run away and then what? You’ll look like the guy who ruined the first royal marriage in Xing in almost a hundred years.”

Which was only because the last emperor had married when he was barely more than a child and then not died until he was so decrepit as to be near dust. Still, so few remembered the last wedding that all of Xing was going wild for the chance to celebrate.

“I don’t envy you.” The voice got a lot closer. “Do you have more?”

Ling sighed. The empty bottle waved around, his grip tight on the neck to ensure he didn’t drop it on his head. “No. All empty.”

“Do you want more?” A clinking sounded beside him as the bottle was suddenly gone. “Or do you think you’ll get sick?”

“I am still engaged?”

“Unless the bastard drops dead of a heart attack.”

Ling could see bright blond hair, glowing dully gold in the lamplight. “Well, then. Please, give me more to drink.”

“So polite for an emperor.”

“Politeness is a whole language, and I am fluent.” Ling struggled to push himself up. “I’m only impolite to people I really like.”

“You just told me to shut up.” The blond chuckled.

“And you brought more wine. I obviously have excellent skills of perception.” Ling grabbed the bottle and greedily drank a mouthful.

The stranger only laughed again.

Ling liked the sound of it. He looked at the stranger, struggling to focus. These weren’t exactly small bottles of wine. The man was pretty.

“Thanks, though the last person to call me pretty was a lot smaller than you.” The person took a long, loud drink. Ling hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he didn’t regret it.

“I’m not going to remember you in the morning, you know.” Ling wiped his arm across his eyes. “In case you’re trying to get some kind of favor.”

The man got quiet, his face suddenly stern. “I’m not trying to get anything from you. You just looked so… scared. When you went outside.”

Ling felt the tears gathering. Why should he care? Why should it matter to him if this stranger saw him cry? An arm wound around his shoulders and Ling cried into a warm chest.

“I’m Edward.” The bottle was pressed back into his hand. “I’m from Xerxes. Or was, I guess.”

Ling thought the name Edward sounded familiar. And if it sounded familiar to him… from Xerxes? He was too drunk to really think it through, but he had a feeling that Edward from Xerxes wasn’t just some guy. “Ed from Xerxes. Do you want to lay down with me?”

“You’re way too drunk for all that.” Ed’s arm swung away from his shoulder. Ling groaned and grabbed the arm again.

“Not like that.” Ling flung himself back, and the stranger Ed followed. “Just lay and look at the stars.”

“Those are flowers,” Ed said but it was too late. Ling was already asleep.

He woke up the next morning with a headache that threatened to split his face in two. His mouth was dry. Drool dried on his chin. Someone was moving just outside his view. “Lan Fan?”

“Yes?” His best friend was busy not looking at him.

“How bad did it go last night?”

“Grandfather found you asleep in the garden.” She bit her lip.

“Was I alone?” He had the shape of a memory. Of a person, kind and warm and pretty.

She burned red. She gestured on the chair beside his bed. “You were alone, but.”

A red jacket lay across the back. It was well crafted. Ling got the impression it was also very soft. Bits of grass stuck to the sleeves. “This was covering me?”

“Yes. You were clutching it quite possessively.” She hesitated. “Did… Did anything happen?”

“If I say yes, do I get to not get married?”

“Unfortunately, Sire, I think not.” She reached over and brushed his hair away from his eyes, placing a firm kiss against his forehead. “Though, the fact you didn’t turn into a mess tells me enough.”

Ling rubbed at his eyes. He yawned and tried to ignore the anxiety swelling in his chest. “Well, I guess we best get the day started.”

All his insides felt tangled and wrong. A sour taste permeated his mouth. He swung his feet over the edge of his bed, thumping his feet against the floor. The smooth wood was cold and grounding. He felt a little less wobbly now.

He ran his hand over the jacket, brushing off bits of grass from the sleeves. A lavish dining hall full of people, all there to celebrate his engagement, and only a single person sought him out. He struggled to remember the stranger’s face or his voice or anything. All he could remember was being so alone, and then not, wanting to watch the stars fade into morning. And then nothing.

“Lan Fan, do you know who this belongs to?” Ling picked the jacket up, slid it over his shoulders. It was too small.

“I don’t, Sire.” She chewed on his cheek, a habit she had when she wanted to say something but was too nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’m not. Expecting anything.” He sighed and laid the jacket back onto his chair. “I understand my duty to Xing.”

The words grated against his mouth like nails. He scrubbed the inside of his mouth with a toothbrush. Lan Fan finished fiddling with his breakfast, which he was certainly not touching, and left him to get organized for the day.

He needed to bathe. His hair was filled with small bits of twigs and grass. “Ugh.”

He didn’t have anywhere to be too early this morning. The advisors had assumed he’d be worn out from his party and would need time to recover. They were fully right, of course. Just not for the reason they’d assumed.

He poured perfume and salt into his tub, filling it with the hottest water he could stand. And he spent the next hour scrubbing the sweat and dirt and sick-sweet smell of wine from his body and his hair. Try as he might, he couldn’t scrub himself free of even the vague memories of last night.

“Hm. Red jacket, huh?” He glanced at the chair. It was a nice jacket. Surely whoever was missing it would want it back. And he owed them some kind of thanks for keeping him company. Right? “I’m sure someone knows who you belong to.”

He sat in the bath until it was cool and the bubbles had disappeared. The smell of sandalwood and fire still hung around the room, but his stomach had settled not long after he’d crawled into the water.

Mind made up, Ling pulled a simple white shirt over his head, loose and cool, and shimmied into a simple pair of dark pants. His skin felt raw, everything too sensitive and overstimulated. A dull throbbing ached behind his eyes. Pulling the brush through his hair threatened to throw him into a migraine, so he didn’t risk tying his hair back. He lay back on the bed again for who knows how long, mind drifting through what he was meant to do now and what his options really were.

The late afternoon sun was red, hovering just above setting. Ling had wasted a whole day of his freedom locked away in his room. He’d have to shake himself out of this. He gave himself a full body shake, in each of his limbs and through his hair, imagining all of this feeling falling off his body like water. His mother had taught him that technique, and usually it worked.

Maybe not so well today. Still. He grabbed the jacket from the chair, taking a chance to really look it over. Bright red, finely crafted. Mostly just a rectangle with a long, ruched sleeve holding it together at either end. The fabric was soft, woven. Stitched, very carefully, into the back was the Xerxian lion.

A memory floated up through the haze of last night. It was still soft all around the edges, not quite set, but enough that Ling thought he could at least test it out. Someone had told him they were from Xerxes… or used to be… Someone named Ed. Well, everyone from the party would still be here tonight. A Xingese engagement celebration lasted for a full week. In a usual situation, it would be a week where he and his lover did not see each other, so that they might have a chance to dedicate themselves to their friends and their families, and allow anticipation to grow for the day they saw each other again.

For Ling, the engagement party would end, and he would meet this Amestrian for the first time. From there, he was expected to be united with his husband. And his husband with him.

But already, Ling was getting the shit end of this deal. His husband had chosen him. Ling had been advised that this was a wise match--his future husband’s military strength was impressive, and the man was said to be handsome, if a bit gruff. The advisors had outlined how a marriage of this type would confirm Ling’s rule--no one would be able to challenge his proclamations any more. Not without risking the weight of the Amestrian military crushing them.

It wasn’t how Ling wanted to rule. A people loyal under threat were not loyal at all. But the clans still fought, day to day. And the people were distrustful of him and his youth. The Amestrian he was meant to be marrying was supposed to be older, experienced. It made Ling’s skin crawl.

He’d gone through hell to get here. He’d rather be miserable than let all the lives he took and all the things Lan Fan had endured go to waste. So he’d agreed. Like a man with his neck in the noose, he’d agreed.

Now, though. Now his fingers buzzed with the feel of the fabric. He hadn’t bothered to put on shoes yet. With any luck he’d be mistaken for one of the many guests around and his guards would leave him alone. If he only kept his face out of view.

He didn’t know why he was so interested in whoever owned this jacket. It wouldn’t matter. And if he was right, it would only make it worse.

He began in the west wing, sidling up behind one of his housekeepers who was nosily dusting a very dustless vase. He assumed her diligence had very little to do with the state of his Palace and several-greats-grandfather’s priceless pottery and everything to do with the very loud and unsavory sounds coming from the room behind the vase. “It’s not unusual for people to pair up at these kinds of shindigs, you know.”

Ling kept his voice low, his presence unassuming. She jumped anyway, tossing the duster in her hand clear over his head. It was quite a feat, considering he was at least a foot and half taller than her. She was mousy and plump, every bit the picture of the nosy old woman. “Sire!”

“Well, hello there. You seem quite,” he glanced pointedly at the gleaming vase, “committed to your duties. Would you mind telling me if you recognize this?”

She took one glance at the red jacket and her face relaxed. “Oh, that’s just the Amestrian alchemist's uniform.”

Ling frowned. He would have noticed that. “Are you sure? Look here, it has this lion on the back of it.”

She barely glanced back at it. “It’s been customized. But I just washed about a dozen of those. You can see here how the sleeves have been taken in, so as not to smudge the chalk.”

Ling frowned. “So, is there a Xerxian alchemist in the Amestrian alchemists program?”

“I’m sorry, Sire. Not that I know of.” She eyed the jacket again. “I can take that for you, if you’d like. It needs a good washing.”

Ling pulled it away just before she was able to grab it. He winked at her. Her lined cheeks turned bright red. The jacket flung casually over his shoulder, and he walked quickly away from her. “No, I’d like to return it myself.”

By the time he found someone else to ask, someone who wasn’t a housekeeper or cook or any other nosy body, the sun was sinking. He was nearly out of time. Dinner was starting soon, and he’d have to be dressed and suitable for addressing the people. So he was less smooth this time, when he finally stopped someone who looked not at all familiar. “Do you know whose this is?”

Immediately, he sensed danger. The person he asked grinned, their eyes way too wide and excited to be a casual reaction. Instinctively he pulled the jacket back to his chest. “Yeah, you know. I do. Hold on.”

The person turned back towards the room they’d been coming out of. “Oh, Ed! Someone has something of yours. He’s handsome, too.”

“Al, I swear to God if you’re fucking with me--”

And Ling suddenly had another memory as the golden haired man stuck his face out the door. “You are pretty.”

And then the door slammed in his face. Like, painfully. He rubbed his nose, feeling underneath for blood. Maybe it would bruise.

The door inched open, and Ling saw a still grinning Al. “Sorry about that. He’s not used to people calling him pretty. I’ll send him right out.”

Ling wasn’t standing around for long before the man returned. He covered his nose and held out the jacket. “You left this.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to remember me.” The man scowled.

“I assume that’s why you left a clue behind?”

“You were completely shitfaced.” The scowl deepened. “I couldn’t just leave you there, uncovered.”

“I get it, you felt sorry for me. I didn’t become Emperor of Xing by getting embarrassed by stuff like that.” Ling ran his hands through his hair. “Would you like to go to dinner with me? I want to repay you for your kindness.”

Al was watching them both with a grin stretched across their face. “Your kindness, Ed.”

“Do they usually act like this?” He wasn’t sure if he was meant to laugh or if he was being laughed at.

“Yes, they do. When it’s me, at least.” Ed rubbed his hand over his face. “Well, I guess. Let’s go.”

Ling looked down at his clothes. “I’m not wearing shoes.”

“Yeah, you should take care of that.” Ed’s scowl was maybe just permanently fixed there. Was it possible Ling was making a mistake?

He’d just opened his mouth to tell Ed that he wasn’t required to eat dinner with him, if he didn’t want. Sometimes that happened too--people assumed when he asked something, that it wasn’t a real question. So he’d stopped asking for things, usually, unless it was an order. Or he was talking to Lan Fan.

Ed waved him off before he could speak, reaching for his jacket. “So, are you ok?”

Ling’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“Are you ok?” Ed gave him a worried look. “You seemed pretty messed up last night. I mean, by the time I found you.”

“I’m doing better.” Ling lied.

“That’s good to know.” Ed shrugged his jacket back on. “I don’t know how often I can get away with sneaking out to the garden with you and drinking ourselves senseless.”

Ling blushed. “Ok, well, you know. You don’t have to remind me.”

“Apparently you remembered all on your own.” Ed shook his head, his blond braid swinging behind him. “So, are you going to change, or are you planning a soft rebellion?”

A soft rebellion sounded nice. Ling did not consider his bare feet to be a soft rebellion. “I’ll be stopping by my room, briefly. Feel free to follow me if you like.”

Ling had meant it as a teasing, assuming that he’d meet Ed in the dining hall. Yet, when he headed down the hallway that led to his rooms, Ed followed behind, ticking off artifacts and paintings on his fingers. The run of his fingertips against the wall sounded unusual.

“Are you wearing… Metal gloves?” Ling paused, listening more closely.

“No, actually. The opposite.” Ed tapped his fingers purposefully on the wall. It made a loud, satisfying tinking sound “Wanna see?”

Ling quirked a brow. “See your hands?”

“Well, hand.” Ed wiggled his fingers on his right hand, a thin white glove covering whatever was making the metallic sound against Ling’s walls. Carefully, one finger at a time, Ed took the gloves off to reveal a metal hand. “See, I’m wearing cloth gloves. What you heard was me.”

Ling moved closer, nearly touching Ed’s fingertips before he caught himself. “Is it ok if I touch it?”

“I--uh, yeah? Most people just do.” Ed rubbed the back of his head with his other hand. “Thanks for asking.”

The gratitude surprised him. “It’s your hand. I wouldn’t be happy if someone just grabbed my hand without warning.”

Ed’s face split into a grin. “You know, you’re right.”

Ling shook his head, placing his hand gently against the metal. Cool, jagged edges pressed back against his palm. “Can you feel my hand?”

He didn’t look up to see if Ed responded. He brushed the tips of the metal caps with his fingertips. They weren’t sharp, like he’d expected. And the oval plate meant to be the base of the thumb was smooth, polished nearly naked by use. It was art, Ling thought to himself. He pressed his hand against Ed’s once more. Art in a more real way than Ling had ever seen--art of a person to a degree he’d never been able to accomplish. His fingers stretched out beyond the edge of the metal, his palm just a smidge wider. “My hands are bigger than yours.”

Ed coughed and pulled his hand back. “You’re... I didn’t expect you to be that interested. Usually it’s, kind of like a. Like a party trick, you know?”

“Are you nervous?” Ling had gotten too close. He stepped back and turned on his heel. “Your arm is beautiful.”

“People don’t usually have an opinion on it.” Ed frowned. “Well, unless they’re automail mechanics, but then it’s nothing like that.”

Ling laughed. “Then what do people usually say?”

Ed considered for a moment. “Nothing. They usually are surprised that I've got a metal arm, say something about how I’m an inspiration or something, and then we move on. Automail mechanics usually go all gaga and ask me for Winry’s number.”

They’d made their way to Ling’s rooms. “Do you feel like an inspiration?”

“No. Can’t say I do.” Ed tapped his fingers. “I have to say, this is an unusual conversation. Let’s change the subject.”

So Ling did. “Well, I’d best get changed. You’re welcome to come in.”

Ed followed him, quietly. Ling flitted around the room, grabbing the most comfortable, passable clothes he could get away with that night. His room still smelled of sandalwood and soap. It was a pleasant smell but heavy and perfumy in a way that made him self conscious. He glanced back after pulling his shirt off to see Ed rustling through his papers on his desk.

“Did you do these?” Ed didn’t touch Ling’s work. Instead he hovered over them, nose nearly touching the charcoal. “No wonder you called my arm art. You probably see art in a lot of things.”

Ling scrambled over to the papers, quickly placing himself between Ed and the desk. “You are an explorer, aren’t you? Ha.”

Hastily, he stacked the papers and shoved them into a drawer.

“What, you don’t like them?”

Ling groaned and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to get into how he felt about his art. He went to rub his hand over his face but flinched as his hand bumped against his bruised nose. “Ow.”

Ed scowled more harshly than Ling had seen him scowl so far. His non-metal hand reached towards Ling’s face. Ling flinched on instinct. But Ed’s touch was gentle as he traced over the light bruise on Ling’s nose.

“I’m sorry about that. You caught me off guard. I didn’t expect you to remember anything.” His thumb pushed a little too hard on the bridge of Ling’s nose and Ling hissed in pain. “I used to be able to help with stuff like this. Nowadays, I’m useless.”

“It’s just a bruise. Don’t be so dramatic.” Ling covered his nose with his hand. It was a mistake--it just hurt again.

“Jeez, no need to get all embarrassed. I’m the dumbass that slammed a door in your face.”

“You were, weren’t you?” Ling hummed, tapping his finger against his chin. “I guess that means you owe me.”

“I don’t do just any kind of favor.” Ed crossed his arms and stood defiantly straight. The pose reminded Ling of a small bird puffing out its chest. “What do you want me to do?”

“Model for me. Just real quick. Your arm, I’ve never seen anything like it. Not up close anyway.” Ling picked up a charcoal left on his desk. “All the tarnishing in the nooks and crannies, all the smooth polish of well used parts. It’s so unique to you--to the actions you’ve taken and the places you’ve been.”

Ed deflated sheepishly. “Oh, that’s all. Ok, then. I mean, I don’t get it really. It’s just automail.”

Ling grinned. “I’ll show you, after I’ve sketched it out.”

Ed looked uncomfortable at first. Then, Ling nudged his shirt sleeve up until the full bottom half of the automail was exposed. Carefully, Ling arranged Ed’s arm to catch the light, to show off all the worn angles. As he sketched, arranged, sketched, and rearranged, Ed settled down. He held his metal arm perfectly still, and laid his head on his other hand, and closed his eyes. Ling almost thought he was asleep, until suddenly, Ed leapt from his chair.

“Dinner!”

And then they were both jumping, Ed all but dashed out the door while Ling slung his robe on.

It wasn’t until he got to dinner that Ling remembered he wasn’t wearing shoes. “Shit.”

They were very late. Late enough that the dining room was full.

“We should have come in separately.” Ed whispered from the side of his mouth. “This is weird.”

Ling didn’t say anything. Lan Fan sat in her usual spot, his empty seat beside her. A familiar face sat across from her, grinning the same wide grin as when Ling first met them. Alphonse. So, the two of them must have been talking when neither he nor Ed showed up on time for dinner. He wasn’t sure how, but Lan Fan must have made some excuse, since everyone was eating. Even if the guests were still staring at them, at least they hadn’t been waiting to start for all this time.

Ling took his seat, careful to never drop his neutral, most royal expression. “How is the food tonight, Lan Fan?”

“Delicious as always, Sire.” Lan Fan took a large bite off her plate. “Though it would have been better warm.”

Her words bite. She’s upset at him. “I’m sorry, Lan Fan.”

Al laughed. “He’s so quick to apologize. My brother is stubborn to the end. He never says anything outright.”

Ling grinned around a mouthful of rice. “An emperor must have some sense of humility. And besides, I got carried away with him. I should have paid closer attention to the time.”

Ed sputtered. He’d forgotten to put on his gloves, so one metal hand waved around with this others. “You can’t just say--do you know how that sounds? It was just art, ok!”

“Art?” Al tapped their plate. It was already empty. “You’re not usually so appreciative of the creative process, Ed. What kept you?”

“I was modeling,” Ed’s voice got smaller and smaller, until it was difficult to hear the last word. He rubbed at his automail, face tinged red. “Anyway, what business is it of yours?”

“To the contrary, Edward Elric. It is everyone’s business where our engaged Emperor disappears to during his celebrations.” Lan Fan put her fork down. “It is something you should be aware of if you choose to become close to the emperor.”

Ling didn’t feel much like eating. She was right, and right not to sugar coat it. But it still hurt. “Usually there are fewer eyes, though it is no less true.”

“Why on earth would I care?” Ed glared at his food, alternating between chowing down on his rice and glaring at whoever dared watch him. “Al, do you want the rest of this stuff?”

Al gladly accepted the grilled pork from Ed’s plate. The rest of the night the conversation stayed civil, the stream of words flowing easily between all of them.

“You know, he draws a lot of pictures of you,” Ed pointed his fork at Lan Fan. “You do a lot of chores. He should be paying you more.”

“I am the highest paid advisor he has. In all of Xing, only Ling is better compensated.” Lan Fan narrowed her eyes. “I go around in his rooms and helping him because he is my friend.”

Ling put his fork down. “My best friend.”

Ed looked between them. “Oh.”

“Not like that, brother.” Al shook their head. “They really are just best friends. Lan Fan is super gay.”

And for some reason, the rest of the dinner, Ed was all smiles. Not a scowl in sight.

Eventually, the food and the small talk was over. People were heading to their rooms. Some were barely able to stand, some leaned a little to casually into the bodies of their partners, and some were already dozing at their tables. The housekeepers would corral the snoozing partygoers into their rooms. Ling was worn out from the previous nights drinking and the up and down of rolling depression and unacceptable adventure of the day.

Lan Fan had already gone for the night, and Al was hovering around Ed to walk back to their rooms. Ling opened his mouth to say his farewells.

“Can you show me the work you did of my arm? I never got to see the end result.” Ed didn’t look at Al. He didn’t even look at Ling. He stared off somewhere near the door, hands tossed over his head. Ling could recognize a carefully casual pose when he saw one. So could Al.

For the first time since Ling met them, Al’s grin faltered. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t be silly, Al. It’s just some pictures.”

Al paused, their face unnaturally stern. Then, they grinned again. “As long as you're sure. Be careful.”

“I didn’t even respond yet.” Ling scoffed.

“Oh, do you have something to do?”

But now the prospect of showing off his work, possibly drawing more of Ed’s arm, maybe even convincing Ed to let him draw his face, had Ling feeling wired. “Uh, well, no. But still, you should have let me answer at least.”

“I’ll expect you back sometime tonight, Ed.” Al waved and headed off to their own room.

Ed just waved himself on, following Ling as they headed back to their room.

“You got away with wearing no shoes through all of dinner.” Ed chuckled.

“Yeah, well. You can get away with a good bit when you’re emperor. People don’t want to point it out, in case it’s something you’re supposed to be doing.”

This time, the walk back to Ling’s room was heavy. There was an expectation, a shared thought neither of them wanted to voice.

“I didn’t realize you’d gotten that much of a look at my drawings. You really liked the ones I did of Lan Fan?” Ling shrugged his robe off. His room was hot, the smell of sandalwood having finally faded, but the humidity lingering.

“You’re talented. I knew who you were drawing straight away.” Ed stretched.

Ling spread the few pages of preliminary sketches he’d gotten done across the work desk. “They aren’t much. I was still working out shapes and angles when you realized it was dinner.”

“Weird how time got away from us.” Ed laughed. “Didn’t realize my arm was so captivating.”

“You are good company,” Ling tapped his charcoal against the paper. “But, now you’ve seen the pictures. I’m sure Al is expecting you.”

It was a direct challenge. Ling wondered if Ed would meet it.

“If I’m such good company, why’re you kicking me out?” Ed scowled again, and this time Ling laughed.

“You make that face too often. Let’s see if I can get a prettier expression.” Ling sidled up against Ed’s side, his lips still split into a smile. “And then maybe I could draw some more pictures?”

“Hey now, how conceited do you think I am?”

Ling darted around Ed, pushing his golden hair away with one hand while tilting his chin with the other. “I think you are conceited enough to invite yourself to the room of an engaged emperor.”

“Well, you wanted me here.”

Ling did, it was true. “Let’s get you posed then.”

“Posed?”

“Look, if you’re going to be here, I’m going to get some practice in.” Ling tapped his hand against Ed’s cheek, sliding through Ed’s hair until he’d smoothed the blond strands behind a scarred shoulder.

And so Ling took full advantage--he drew. He drew Ed’s long hair and strong jaw. He sketched the scars where the automail connected. Ed told him about nerve connectors, and his automail mechanic, and the podunk town he grew up in.

“What about Xerxes?”

“Xerxes hasn’t had a ruler in a long, long time. Eventually, we were whittled down to nothing and Amestris absorbed us.” Ed frowned, and it marred the image he was sketching. “It was going to happen eventually, but. It didn’t make it better.”

“Amestris is quite a greedy nation, isn’t it?” Ling put down his charcoal. There was something he’d wanted to do, from the moment he’d first touched Ed’s metal hand. “First it takes your home. Then it takes me, reaching its claws into Xing. Offering what we want in exchange for everything we already have.”

He slid his hand along the cool metal, pushing the arm up and away. “Can you feel my hand? Is that how the nerve reactors work?”

“A little. It’s like a pressure.” Ed narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious but not worried. “Not like when you touch my other hand.”

Ling nodded, pulling Ed’s other hand to him. He had almost a memory of Ed’s arm around him. Almost a memory of a moment. “Tell me to stop touching you.”

Ed didn’t look away. “No.”

“Then I’m not going to stop.” Ling cupped his hand against Ed’s face. And there, exactly where he wanted them, Ed’s arms wrapped around him.

Tomorrow's problems would come tomorrow. This was what he wanted now.

#Edling #Ling Yao #Edward Elric #FMAB #this is that thing I was working on before #Arranged Marriage AU #I loooove this story #Chapter 1 of 4

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rollzerox · 3 years

Text

JaeYona Week Day #5

First Date

“Wow, Xing really does have a massive marketplace by the palace, doesn’t it?” Yona was excited once they stepped out of Kyuu Castle, where they had come to stay for the week. Just yesterday they had held her wedding ceremony to Jae-ha, so the butterflies were settling down in her stomach while also she kept flashing back to all those things that happened with her now husband last night.

Yoon nodded. “Yeah it’ll be interesting to see what the market has, plus they’re celebrating the war is over before it even really began.”

Jae-ha hummed, wrapping an arm around Yona. “Well a stroll around town could be fun, think of it as our first date, Yona-chan.”

Yona made a face at that. “Jae-ha, we just got married yesterday, how can that be a date?”

Zeno shrugged. “Technically the miss and Ryokuryuu have been sneaking around like the ladies of the night.”

Yona started choking at that as Jae-ha merely laughed. “Yes that is true we never have been able to properly court so better late than never right?”

Hak rolled his eyes. “Now he wants to be proper…”

Yona was all red at that, shaking her head to try and banish her blush as they headed towards the market area. But her mood was instantly changed when Jae-ha started complimenting one of the sales ladies. She puffed out her cheeks with jealousy, just sulking as several women gathered around Jae-ha getting praise from the Green Dragon.

Zeno seemed to be the first one to bring it up. “Miss it didn't bug you before right?”

“It does not bother me.” Yona immediately got defensive.

“Then why is the miss pouting?” Zeno asked.

“I AM NOT POUTING!” Yona shouted.

“You are too.” Hak said, munching on a rice ball and dodging Yona’s fists.

Yoon groaned as he called out to the Ryokuryuu. “Jae-Ha stop flirting before your wife smothers you and those women in their sleep.”

Jae-ha blinked, turning to the boy genius and humming. “… You know that would actually be hot.” He seemed turned on by the mere thought of it, not even paying attention to the girls looking disappointed when Yoon mentioned that he was married.

Hak smacked his forehead. “He would say that…”

Yoon rolled his eyes. “Only you would find mass homicide hot.”

Jae-ha made a dramatic pose. “But I'd see love loveliness as the light leaves my eyes…”

Kija immediately looked irritated. “You’re making the princess insecure!”

Yona seemed fed up as she growled suddenly. “KIJA I AM NOT INSECURE HE CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS IF I'M NOT PRETTY ENOUGH TO KEEP HIS FOCUS-“ she stopped herself when she realized she admitted why she was so on edge.

Yoon sighed. “And there it is.”

Hak shrugged. “Well we all know she's crap at hiding when she's upset.”

Yoon nodded. “I knew it was a matter of time before she snapped.”

Jae-ha frowned at that. “Yona dear what do you mean by that?”

Zeno shook his head. “The Ryokuryuu doesn’t have much skill in making sure a wife is well tended to.”

Jae-ha looked a tad insulted at that. “Now come on Zeno all I did was compliment them and Yona dear do you really think I don't see how lovely and charming you are?” he came over to pull his wife into a hug… And Yona immediately slipped out of his arms.

“Forget it go have fun with them obviously I'm too fat to ogle…” Yona huffed.

Jae-ha blinked, completely confused. “Whenever did I say that?”

“She's pregnant dumbass she already gets crazy ideas in her head.” Hak brought up, dodging an apple thrown at him by Yona. “See I’m used to her temper fits, pregnancy is just going to hyper intensify it.”

“Ryokuryuu knows how to treat women but a wife is not just any woman.” Zeno explained. “You’re not doing a good job of it. Don’t compliment other women in the presence of a pregnant wife for one.”

Jae-ha frowned, coming over and grabbing Yona’s hand. “Is that what this is all about? You don’t like you new husband admiring others around you? As if they could replace your loving beauty and the fact you’re carrying our little treasure.” He purred, wrapping an arm around the small of her back despite her protests.

Yona huffed, her cheeks stained red. “I told you, don’t force yourself just because we’re…”

Jae-ha smiled, dipping his head in to kiss her passionately. Which was just giving her flashbacks to last night and making her dizzy as he slowly parted his lips from hers to purr into her ear. “If anything I’m forcing myself not to pull you back to our room and banish every single one of those doubts in your mind by loving every inch of your beautiful body. After all there is only one princess of my heart that I allow all over my dragon leg…” he reminded her.

Yona’s blush got even worse at that, her eyes straying away. “I… I mean… I’m sorry I know it’s selfish but I just want you to myself and…” she finally admitted.

That made Jae-ha chuckle, nuzzling her hair as he kissed at her forehead. “Well that makes two of us then, shall I steal you away as we take a little stroll to the skies? After all I meant it that I’d love for this to be our first date.”

“R-really…?” Yona fluttered her eyes at him, her voice small. “Just you… and me?” It was rather rare for them to be alone, except for them sneaking around at night, like Zeno oh so pointed out bluntly.

“Of course, and if your perverted husband’s eyes aren’t on you, feel free to remind him that he’s yours by yanking me down and giving me a passionate smooch.” Jae-ha grinned as he gave her that mental image of just making out with him randomly in front of people. “You’ll make all the people around you jealous instead.”

“Ah… I… Well….” Yona’s face turned into a fireball, not sure she could be that daring.

“Please the pervert will probably get off on girls getting jealous the princess has him.” Hak rolled his eyes.

“At least Yona has a wedding ring to tell people that she’s taken.” Yoon commented. “You probably could use a leash for Jae-ha.”

“Actually for some males in Xing they wear wedding bands especially when going into battle to think of their wives back at home.” Sara, Princess Tao’s healer brought up. She had decided to stroll along with the group as she enjoyed talking to Shin-ah. “They sell some just over there.”

“Well now that’s a lovely idea then!” Jae-ha smirked, releasing Yona and guiding her to one of the vendors to choose a ring. “Choose whatever you fancy Yona darling, it’ll make me think of you whenever we are apart.” He brushed his fingers through her hair, finding the hairpin he gave her that served the same purpose.

“Well umm… H-here. How about this?” Yona asked, choosing a simple golden band but it looked similar to like how some pirates had golden earrings, it was why she choose it.

“Perfect, it looks lovely too.” Jae-ha hummed, holding out his hand to let her fit it onto his finger. “Just the right fit too.” He winked. “You know the size of my fingers by holding my hand I guess?” he teased.

‘No it’s because of all the sinful things those fingers did to my-‘ Yona had to stop her train of thought as she exploded into another blush. “… All of you should come with a warning label.” She mumbled, leaving it at that.

“Mmm you mean a warning label not to fall for my charm because it belongs to the princess of my heart?” Jae-ha purred, leaning in to kiss her again after paying the vendor.

Yona slapped her hands over his lips, still too embarrassed. “N-not so much in front of everyone… C-come on let’s go this is supposed to be a date, right? So let’s go see what else we can find here.” She smiled timidly, squeezing his hand and enjoying the look of his new ring on his finger. She glanced at her own wedding ring and was amused the bands matched. The butterflies were still in her stomach but slowly settling down, as no matter what happened she always seemed to be at ease with her Ryokuryuu by her side.

#jaeyona #jaeyona week

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

The Wonders of Ohio P.5

masterlist (check here for parts 1-4!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: from 14 year old me babey

warnings: cringe, mentions of drug use, mentions of sex, language, and just bad writing

summary: y/n is in her senior year of high school when she is asked to take on an exchange student from britain that’s a little...different. this is NOT a nonmagic AU. draco is still a wizard and this will become and integral part of the story shortly.

a/n: heyyyy everyone. i graduated from high school this week and i’m posting this as my happy-one-year-to-me. as some of you may know, i posted my very first fic on this day a year ago. i’m really happy to see how i’ve grown since and i’m so lucky to have shared this with all of you. anyways, nittygritty--

this part is really the last slow exposition chapter. chapters 6 on will be a whole whirlwind beginning with homecoming and i hope that you guys are willing to stick around. i promise itll be worth the wait. y/n is going to get the story arc of a lifetime and also please do not hate heather she is just going through it ok

anywayssssssss

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 4.6k (;))

song recs:

strawberry blonde -- mitski

in your neighbors garden -- mimi bay

wishes -- beach house

ode to artifice -- samia

pink in the night -- mitski

enjoy <3

The seatbelt buckle scorched the side of Y/N’s exposed neck as she turned to face the disheveled blonde in the passenger seat.

“Do I need to teach you to set an alarm?”

Draco let out a huff. “Stop. Do you have a….a comb, or a brush, or something here?” His hands looked abnormally fidgety. Their actions were shaky, varying from patting his pockets to running through his hair. He seemed more and more frustrated each time his hands left his pockets empty.

How curious Y/N thought as she racked her brain for any remembrance of putting a brush in her car. It was always a mess, and she honestly couldn’t blame Draco for assuming that anything could be in there.

“I don’t think there’s one here,” said Y/N, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic despite the fact that his tardiness had them 10 minutes late. “You can look around if you want, king.”

“What’d you call me?” His voice was suddenly sharp and awake.

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard that she thought they’d get stuck in the back of her head. “You don’t--ok. It’s a joke. You can call guys here that.”

“And it means that I’m…?”

“It means I’m acknowledging that you exist, I guess. It’s not like it has a strict negative or positive connotation. Like, I can say ‘Ok king’ to any man telling me something and it can either be sarcastic, or it can be because I don’t know what else to say and just want to let him know I heard him.”

Draco’s eyes looked a tad glazed over when Y/N dared a glance in his direction.

“I know it’s confusing. I’m sorry. I’ll try and ease you into the world of American slang.”

He granted her a little “uh-huh” before opening up the glovebox with great difficulty and rummaging through the mess. Y/N would’ve felt more embarrassed about the tampon that fell on the ground in the process if he seemed like he actually knew what it was.

Her attention turned back to the road as Draco continued to sift through things. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything embarrassing hidden away in the corners of her car--after all, it hadn’t been organized since the beginning of summer--and decided that it was better to pretend it wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t the eerie silence that eventually prompted her to turn to look his direction--no, it was the weird energy in the car, like the feeling right before a thunderstorm. All the hair raised on her arms, and she shivered...but it was stifling hot in the car.

“Oh, did you find a brush?” she asked. His hair laid as perfectly as always, but his hands were lying shaking in his lap, palms to the sky. No hairbrush was in sight.

“Er... “ He was paler than usual, which was quite the feat for someone who looked like a ream of paper. “No. Just remembered a trick my father taught me.”

She tensed at the mention of his father--the very first time Draco had done so. “Oh. Okay. Glad you got it figured out, king.”

Her voice lightened on the last word, hoping she could coax a little smile out of him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ok.”

oOo

There were many things Y/N thought she understood, but Draco Malfoy being in her Physics C class was not one of them. She took pity and sat next to him as he fumbled his way through the first lecture. His notes, while neat, were littered with crossed out portions and question marks.

You do know there’s an eraser on your pencil, right? she jotted on a note that she sent his way. His brow furrowed and he seemed to tap at the end of the eraser for just a few moments before deciding otherwise and xing out another practice problem he’d done incorrectly. Symbols that she’d never seen before were scattered all throughout his notes.

Maybe the UK kids just learn stuff differently.

By the time that Physics came to an end, Y/N was eager to get away from the storm cloud that was brewing over Draco’s perfectly smoothed and infuriatingly pretty moonbeam colored hair. The amount of attention he was getting from all the other girls made Y/N want to jump off a cliff--suddenly everyone was her “best friend” “just wanting to check up on what happened over summer”. She was grateful to see the face of Lizzy, grinning and looking mischievous during their break period.

“You must be Draco,” said the redhead, a glint in her eyes. He looked a little scared.

“Er...yeah.”

“Mind giving us some privacy? Y/N and I have some urgent matters to discuss,” she continued, looking him up and down. Y/N attempted to ignore the twist in her gut as she watched him swallow and nod, turning away to go brood elsewhere. Once he was out of sight, Lizzy grabbed her arm and yanked her into the girl’s bathroom.

“It’s so funny how he’s following you around like a lost puppy,” Lizzy said. “Also, he’s gorgeous. If you don’t at least try to get some of that, then I’m never trusting your judgement again.”

“But, Li-”

“The boy’s a fucking walking Wattpad story cover. Dark, tragic past, unbelievably sharp jawline, rich parents, exotic accent....honestly, Y/N, I don’t know what else you could want.”

“Mom literally called him my host brother,” said Y/N. The bathroom was starting to smell suspiciously like cotton candy. “That’s wrong. On so many levels.”

“But you’re not related!”

“But it’s gross! And predatory! The kid doesn’t even know how to do basic algebra! I’m all he has!”

Lizzy’s eyebrow found its new home in the middle of her forehead. “You’ve gone absolutely batty if you think that every girl cursed with attraction to men in Cincinnati wouldn’t jump his skin at the chance. Use your head, queenie. He’s not alone. Shoot your shot.”

Y/N opened her mouth to serve back a retort--that was definitely there, thank you very much--but decided against it once she realized that the bathroom had become dead silent. “Um...maybe we can go over this later.” She flickered her eyes over to the line behind them that was now intently hanging on their every word. “I forgot I had to talk to the counselor.”

Lizzy was smirking as they exited the bathroom and began the search for Draco. It didn’t take long--the circle comprised of Heather and her friends was more than enough of a giveaway that he was about.

“Draco, sorry to make you wait,” Y/N called out. It took all her effort to abstain from cringing as her voice rang out across the group. Heather turned to send her a big smile.

“Hey Y/N! You didn’t tell me that Draco was from London!”

“He’s not,” she responded. “He’s from Wiltshire.”

“Wiltshire. Of course. That’s what I meant.”

Draco’s smile was tense as he looked down at Heather--who stood roughly 4 inches below him--but he was smiling, and that wasn’t something that Y/N was on the receiving end of frequently. She didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved.

“I’m sure. Break’s almost over, Draco. I can show you where the English department is before the time is up.”

He paused, looking down at the blonde grinning up at him. “Er, actually, Heather already offered to show me around for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll see you in French.”

Y/N was shocked at the sheer amount of jealousy that rose up in her throat as she turned away and made her way to Art History---the only class Y/N and Draco didn’t share. The walk was strange. Being in solitude after having a gloomy British boy attached to her hip was understandably eerie. Because that’s all it was. Adjustment. Nothing else.

She settled in at a table full of her friends, namely Sylvia. The tall girl was always a bit whimsical, but Y/N found that she was a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else. It made sense that Sylvia would take Art History--her dark academic inspired aura and the perpetually hot mug of black coffee just screamed history nut.

“How’s your new brother?” she asked after the teacher had taken attendance. “I say that because I haven’t heard his name yet.”

“Ick, it’s gross to think of him as my brother,” Y/N responded. “And I know! We need to catch up. I’m sorry about not talking to you for a bit. The time difference was a bit weird during your trip.”

“It’s ok, I get it. I was away on family business, anyways. I didn’t expect you to spend your days staying up until the wee hours of the night to tell me all about your exchange student. Anyways. His name?”

“You’re gonna scream when you hear it, Vie,” she said. “Draco Malfoy. It’s so posh. You have no idea. It definitely suits him, though. He’s very...You good?”

Sylvia’s olive toned face looked a bit paler than usual. “Yeah. Yeah, I just remembered that I forgot to take the trash out this morning. I’ll have to text my mom about it.” She adjusted the wool cardigan that hung around her shoulders and came up looking composed. “Draco, huh? His parents must hate him.”

“At the very least! He’s so rude. And uptight. I can’t tell if it’s just a Brit thing or if it’s because he’s an asshole.”

Sylvia laughed. “I mean, when I was there over the summer, it was a different culture for sure. We’re by far louder. But I didn’t meet many mean ones. You must’ve just got a bad apple, then.”

“I guess so. He is pret--”

“Ladies, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

“No, Mrs. Jensen,” Sylvia and Y/N said in unison.

oOo

“Thoughts, king?”

“I told you not to call me that.” Draco glared at her as he tried to open the passenger side door to find that it was locked tight. “Unlock? Please?”

“And I told you not to get cozy with ASB kids, yet here we are,” said Y/N as she slotted the key into the lock and turned.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I’m just looking out for you.” She slammed the door shut and threw her bag in the bag. The line of traffic to get out of the school was long and stuffy, and she was eager to just get it over with.

The wait was so hot that Draco peeled off his stupid formalish jacket that was on thin ice of being called a blazer and probably worth more than her car. Y/N tried to look away as his hair became slightly ruffled, but she couldn’t pry her eyes away. It was endearing, almost, how someone who could look so posh and serious could have ruffly hair--and hair that naturally light, too. She had asked him one night if it was dyed, and he scowled at her and told her the grammatically correct term was dead, and that his hair was alive, just like the rest of him, thank you very much. She dropped it.

Y/N finally rolled down her window after the AC simply refused to satisfy her, and the wind was a nice reminder to keep in her own lane. Draco was beautiful. There was no other way to put it. He had a feel of power to him, like he was capable of anything but just held it back. But he was just as inaccessible as he was pretty, and there was nothing she could do about that.

“Y/N?” He asked after a few moments of sitting in silence. “What’s Homecoming?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Heather. She asked if I had a date. Is that like a ball here?”

“She asked you if you had a date on the first day?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. ASB kids never do sleep, huh.”

“What?”

“Homecoming isn’t a ball. It’s like a...an…” Y/N paused as she saw Draco raise his eyebrows. “It’s, like, uh….Well I guess it is like a ball. An American one, though. Way less extravagant. It’s an excuse to get dressed up and run around the city. There technically is a dance, and all the ASB kids have to go, but literally no one else does but the underclassmen. Normally I go out with my friends and a date to somewhere fun and take pictures. And then get trashed afterwards.”

“Classy,” said Draco. “I think you can go now.”

A honk behind her emphasized his point as the space in between her and the car in front widened substantially.

“Thanks. Anyways, it’s not really a big deal. I’d suggest not going with Heather so you can skip out on the dance portion. Or if you want to go with her, get her to come with us into Cincinnati because I am not going to spend my last homecoming watching a grind circle.”

“A...what circle? And I don’t want to go with her.”

The relief Y/N felt was embarrassing. “Um...better if you don’t worry about it. You have a long time to figure it out anyways.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer, propping his elbow up on the center console. The pristine button up he was wearing had ridden up, exposing the pale skin and the bottom of the tattoo she had seen a hint of earlier. “Do you have a date?”

“Um. No, not yet. I don’t think anyone except for couples do yet. We have until the end of this month to figure it out, so I’m not too worried about it.”

He nodded as Y/N’s car finally left the school parking lot and began picking up speed.

“I’m assuming you had balls? At your posh boarding school?”

“Er…” Draco ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it further. “We only had one. It was when I was 14. We called it the Yule Ball.”

“Why only one?”

“It was for a special occasion. We had two other schools join us as well. It was quite a good time.”

“So every student only has one ball in their lifetime?”

“Of course not. Some of us--the ones from old families--have events like that regularly.”

“I’m sorry if this is overstepping my bounds,” began Y/N, noticing how he tensed up, “So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But, I’m just wondering, what is your family like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like are they nice?”

“Oh.” The line in his forehead relaxed. “No. They wouldn’t like you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “Do you like them?”

She heard the breath hitch in his throat. “I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m sure it’s hard to think about it when you feel like they’ve just shipped you off without anyone,” she added. “I’m really sorry, Draco. I know I’ve been a bit mean to you. I know that I’ll never be able to understand what you’re going through right now.”

The slight smile that spread across his face would’ve knocked her to her knees if she wasn’t already sitting down. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

The silence that awaited them for the rest of the journey was comfortable.

oOo

School began to pick up the pace after the first few days. Y/N got into the swing of homework and her extracurricular workload. Draco was having a bit more difficulty, she presumed, but he’d never admit to it. She took pity one evening and gave him her laptop opened to a Khan Academy tab for Physics and was pleased to see that he showed up to class the next day with completed homework. He asked to borrow her laptop on a much more frequent basis after that.

The routine they settled into had her heart leaping into her chest almost constantly--they’d eat breakfast together at the table, Y/N would try to ignore how pretty he looked across the table as they shared a pot of black tea (earl grey, which Y/N was thrilled to learn was his favorite as well), they’d get in the car, she’d write him notes in physics to help him (even though he never asked, he always smile and give a little shake of his head before unfolding them and intently staring at her writing), they’d drive home together and bitch about their French teacher, he’d retire to his room and do whatever pretty blonde Brits do in the afternoon, they’d meet unexpectedly at the same time in the late evening to have a final cup of tea, and then they’d go to bed and do it all over again.

It was difficult for her to admit, but Y/N was falling very quickly for Draco. It was gross, and wrong, and manipulative, and completely against the code of conduct for exchange families, but she couldn’t help but spend her days fantasizing about how his gold-spun hair would feel as she ran her fingers through it or how gently she’d trace her fingers around the tattoo on the soft flesh of his forearm…

But Y/N knew those thoughts weren’t right. And they would go away. Eventually.

“How’s it going?” Sylvia asked, effectively snapping her out of her thoughts. The Art History sub told them to go into independent study, whatever that meant. Y/N was not very good at either of those words.

“Pretty good. I can’t believe it’s been 3 weeks already,” she said. “It’s gonna be Halloween before we know it.”

“I can’t fucking waitttt,” said Sylvia. “I’m gonna be Wednesday Addams.”

“Again?”

“What else would I be? I get a new high collared black dress every year. It’d be a shame if it were going to go to waste. What are you gonna be?”

“One of the thousands of students finishing their UChicago ED app hours before the deadline.”

“You’re kidding. Can’t you just finish it the day before?”

“Where’s the fun in that? And, plus, I don’t have an idea as cool as Wednesday.”

Sylvia smirked as she opened up her planner and began to jot down something. “How’s Draco doing? I haven’t seen much of him lately. It seems like he never hangs out with us at break anymore.”

“Yeah, I ended up getting him connected with the Physics teacher. He’s getting tutored now. He thinks it’s all bullshit, but I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t get into a good school.”

“Is that all you care about?” She smiled at Y/N. “Lizzy was telling me that you’re interested in him.”

“First of all, keep your voice down. Second of all, I’m not supposed to be, so I’m not.” Y/N hoped that the edge in her voice was convincing enough.

Her friend raised her eyebrows so dramatically that her glasses nearly slipped off her nose. “Y/N, who’s gonna hear about it. You guys are both going away at the end of the year anyways, and I’m sure he’s not going to be writing to his dear mum about his love life. If it’s consensual, there’s nothing wrong with it. I think it’d be good for both of you.”

“I see that, but let’s put me in his shoes right now.” Y/N shuffled in her seat and clasped her hands. “I’m rich. I’m British. I’m very hot. My parents throw extravagant balls for me and I kiss pretty girls that say water like ‘wota’. I’ve spent my life in silk and I only drink the finest teas. My family is so important that I had to be shipped off halfway across the world just to be safe. And now my incredibly expensive life has reached a peak because I’m sleeping with a random girl in Ohio that has run approximately 4 stop signs since I’ve met her.”

“You’re sleeping with Draco?”

Y/N turned to see Lauren, a wide-eyed, obnoxious, but well meaning girl staring at her. She heard Sylvia stifle a laugh behind her. “No. I was kidding.” The smile that she followed with was awkward and showed way too many teeth.

“Oh, okay,” said Lauren. “Do you know if he likes anyone?”

Sylvia’s smirk widened.

“No, actually, he’s a pretty private guy.” Y/N sent her another tense smile, and Lauren finally turned away.

“Jealous, huh?”

“Shut up, Vie. You know I wouldn’t go for him. Even if I had the chance.”

She just raised an eyebrow and smiled.

The afternoon brought its own set of struggles. Their French teacher had blown up at another student who had been caught cheating on their last test, and it was all Y/N could do but hold back her snickers until they were out in the parking lot.

“I can’t believe they still managed to conjugate their cheat sheet wrong.” Y/N was gasping for breath as she unlocked the car door and threw her stuff inside. Draco was watching from the passenger seat, his lips in a soft upturn. “Can you imagine? Oh my god.”

He just shook his head and turned to look out the window, but she could see the smile slowly stretching across his face. “Ridiculous. You could totally tell Monsieur enjoyed it, too. I bet he gets off on making kids like Joey cry.”

“I had a teacher like that,” he started. “He was a Poti-a chemistry teacher.”

“Oh? Did he ever attack you?”

“No. He liked me. Family friends and all.”

“Ah. I almost forgot that your family was rich and influential. Thanks for the reminder.” She reached across and lightly punched his shoulder. His smile, though still remaining, seemed to shrink. “Hey, what’s that in your bag?”

Y/N motioned to the cardstock peeking out of his nondescript black backpack that always seemed to fit more than it was meant to. She could make out a few words written in what looked like a bright red sharpie--something that did not exactly scream Draco Malfoy aesthetic.

He froze up. “Er. It’s from Heather. I think she called it a Homecoming ask?”

Y/N’s throat dried up to the point that no words would willingly make the climb from her diaphragm to her tongue; instead, she settled for giving him a little nod and what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“I told her I’d think about it,” he continued. “I remember you saying that the school dances sucked. So I let her know that I wasn’t sure yet.”

She nodded again. “Super cool. You can do whatever you want, though. You can come with my group if you’d like, but you’re welcome to go with Heather’s.”

“What? So you aren’t coming with me if I go with Heather?”

“Fuck no, dude. I don’t hate her, but I would way prefer to spend a night with my friends than some girl from my French class that only talks to me because she thinks you’re hot.”

The expression Draco made reminded Y/N that he would never get comfortable with American girls calling him hot. “Ok. Have you found a date yet?”

“Chad from Econ asked me yesterday.”

“Is that why my seat was covered in glitter?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going with him?” Draco’s hand was clenched tight in a fist in his lap.

“I think so,” said Y/N, steeling herself and deciding to just go for it. “But, of course, if you asked me I would say no to Chad. Just out of principle. I am supposed to be your tour guide, after all.”

The only parts of him moving were the few stray wisps of his hair being pushed around by the AC going.

“But that’d be weird. I’d only expect you to take that up if you really didn’t want to go to the dance itself.” She swallowed and pulled out onto the main street, putting distance between them and the school. He was silent for a few moments. The quiet, normally comfortable between them, was stifling and strange. She pretended to ignore the way he was fiddling with his cuffs.

“Yeah, it could be,” was all he said before slumping against the window and closing his eyes.

Mrs. Y/L/N was sitting at the head of the coffee table when the two arrived home, carding between a stack of letters in front of her. The mug of something--probably that new decaf blend she hadn’t stopped raving about--was sitting lopsided on a coaster, just barely about to topple off the edge. She looked like she hadn’t moved for hours, the novel she had been previously reading sat face down to preserve the spot next to her no doubt lukewarm drink.

“Hey Mom,” Y/N said as she set her keys down. “Anything good?”

She looked up, her expression morphing from startled to happy. “Other than the college brochures? Nothing, except...hm, what’s this?”

Her well manicured hand pulled at a crimson envelope, with sloping writing that seemed to shimmer in the light.

To the Y/L/N Family, it read. The loopiness of the writing looked like it wiggled at the ends, but that had to be a trick of the light. It was dim in the kitchen during afternoons, after all.

“It looks cool, open it u--”

“No!”

Draco’s voice had never sounded so loud as it did then as he lunged across the kitchen, snatching it out of her mother’s hand and clutching it to his chest. “Er, it’s for me. I recognize the handwriting.”

“Cool, see you later,” said Y/N. She was up the stairs and slamming her door before either of her housemates could say another word. After the horrible embarrassment that was technically Draco’s rejection, she needed to be alone.

Even burying her face into her pillow and squeezing her eyes shut didn’t keep the scenes from their car ride at bay. She had been so stupid, so stupid. Why did she even think he wanted that? He was her brother, after all. Oh god, does he think we’re all from Alabama or something?

She wallowed for a few more mournful minutes before deciding that she had to pick herself up and handle it like an adult. After all, she was going to be 18 in just a few months. There was no excuse for her to act like a child anymore. And, plus, it wasn’t like she couldn’t just play this off as a pity invite. Yes,that’s what she’d frame this as if he ever asked her about it again. She felt bad for him was all it was.

Once satisfied with her internal dialogue, she rolled out of bed and made for the foyer where her bag was still on the table. She’d first walk on Legos barefoot before she had to let a stupid boy--especially one that didn’t know how to turn on their shower and had to ask for her help every time--come between her and her 4.0. Never.

Her thoughts were cut short, however, when she heard a new sound from his side of the hallway. She froze, listening closely.

Draco was crying.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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shijiujun · 4 years

Text

[ENG] History3: Trapped Novel - Chapter Eight

Translation Masterpost can be found here

Disclaimer: Translations are entirely mine - these are not official translations and some phrases have been changed for better English interpretation so you’ll definitely see better/different translations elsewhere. Also keeping in mind when we translated this we aren’t exactly thinking about the style of writing and this translation is as close to the novel as we can make it XD So yes, some parts may be a little awkward to read. And yes some teeny weeny details and words may not turn up in the translation because the Chi to Eng mind acrobatics didn’t work out. If you see asterisks, scroll all the way to the bottom for notes!

Full chapter below the cut

*Note: ERMMMMM I’M BACK? So there was a plan for Chapter 8 and 9 translations, but I didn’t want to leave this until like 2021, so I’m trying my best to just clear it before New Years. Not sure how many of y’all are still reading this, but... I just don’t want to remember that this is incomplete hahahaha, so yeah, I did Chapter 8, and Chapter 9 should be up within the next couple of weeks, so it’ll be pretty and complete for 2021!

Chapter Eight

The act of handing Li Zhi De over to the police force led to the emergence of dissenting voices within Xing Tian Meng, and even the elders that were initially approving of the reform were beginning to shift towards a neutral position, stopping the biddings that were proceeding at hand.

Jack is walking towards the spot where he parked the car, and suddenly, someone emerges from behind a pillar and stops him in his tracks.

“Chen-ye would like to speak to you.”

After coldly shooting the man a glance, Jack gets into the other’s car and is brought to a tea house. Jack walks inside, and as expected, he sees a man with a scar on the right side of his cheek — Chen Wen Hao.

“I didn’t expect Chen-ye’s invitation.”

“When it comes to talented people, even if I have to personally make the trip, I will,” Chen Wen Hao pours a cup of tea for the other, and Jack raises the cup in a sign of respect for the man, before drinking it.

“Liang Dian, based on your intellect, you should have long established your own gang.”

“…”

Jack shudders, the sensation coming straight from his chest, and looks at the old, scheming fox before him without the slightest change in his expression. Fang Liang Dian, that is his real name, and the people who know this name are mostly dead already. From this, he can see that Chen Wen Hao has indeed gone to great lengths to obtain this information.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the ends of his lips curve up in a smile as he picks up the teapot and pours a second cup of tea for himself.

“Tang Yi spared no efforts in sending his own subordinate to the police, is such a person still worthy of being followed? Aren’t you afraid of becoming a second Zhi De?” Chen Wen Hao says as he looks at the young man before him, sliding a document filled with a list across the table.

“This is everything Wang Kun Cheng has in Taiwan, I can hand them all over to you.”

The red-haired man plays with the black leather gloves he has in his palms and without looking at the contents of the document, he returns, “How immense these benefits are, but… what do I have to exchange with Chen-ye?”

“You’re indeed interesting,” he answers, his eyes filled with impress at Jack, “I want Xing Tian Meng and Shi Hai Corporations’ data on their flow of funds, their current client lists, and also their proceeding bidding cases, as detailed as you can get them.”

“Aside from Tang Yi and Zuo Hong Ye, even Gu Dao Yi may not fully have a grip on all these you mentioned, Chen-ye, don’t you think that your exchange offer of Wang Kun Cheng’s power in Taiwan lacks sincerity?”

Jack raises an eyebrow, and bored, he takes out his butterfly knife and begins to flip it in his hands. A young henchman immediately steps up to stop him upon seeing this, but Chen Wen Hao interrupts him.

“Speaking to me with this attitude, aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill you?”

“Since Chen-ye is the one with a request, he can surely be like Liu Bei, and lower his position humbly to obtain what he wants.”*

Chen Wen Hao pats at the surface of the table, and loudly says, “Good, I did not place my bet on the wrong person! Liang Dian, Xing Tian Meng’s pool is too small, and it is a pity for you to stay here. You should come and discuss the Cambodian business with us.”

“Okay,” Jack smiles at Chen Wen Hao, the movement of the butterfly knife in his hands coming to a stop.

—

Investigations Team Three

Tonight, Zhao Zi is taking the night shift with Shao Fei, and one of them is standing in the office with the glass door closed, a cardboard box opened on the table and taking out the items inside one by one.

The box contains the last of Li Zhen-jie’s belongings, there are medals and awards, her police badge and also a team photo of Team Three.

“Boss, think back carefully, was there some connection and interaction between Li Zhen-jie and Chen Wen Hao?”

“When Li Zhen was transferred to Team Three, Chen Wen Hao was already in prison, so I don’t think they knew each other.”

“But there is Li Zhen-jie’s signature on the prison’s meeting logbook, I confirmed this, and it is indeed her handwriting. And she even went to see Chen Wen Hao with Tang Guo Dong!”

“Wait, when was this?”

“1990.”

Shao Fei looks through the things Li Li Zhen left on one hand, and recalls his conversation with Shi Da Pao.

“Since Boss said that Chen Wen Hao was already in prison before Li Zhen-jie transferred into the team, then she might have gone to see Chen Wen Hao for a case? But even if she was investigating a case, why would she have gone to see Chen Wen Hao with Tang Guo Dong? What is the relationship between them? Why did the both of them die in the same place?”

Opening the circular tube containing a graduation certificate, he doesn’t see anything else, and rifling through the books left in the box, he doesn’t find any other clues hidden between the pages either.

“Ah!”

Shao Fei yells in frustration, his hands pulling at his hair hard.

Incorrect! There has to be a clue he missed, he doesn’t believe that Li Zhen-jie was in cahoots with Xing Tian Meng, and so before she died, her meeting with Tang Guo Dong was definitely not because she wanted to leak information to him.

There has to be some other reason that made Li Zhen-jie contact Tang Guo Dong, there has to be!

It’s just, where exactly is the missing clue to the puzzle? Where is it?

“Damn it!” Shao Fei swipes Li Li Zhen’s belongings to the ground, and regrets it immediately the next second. Holding his head in his arms, he tries hard to breathe and calm his emotions down. Seeing the photo of himself and Li Zhen-jie, he remembers that when he first entered the team, he brought quite a lot of trouble to her because of his impulsive nature, but she never once chided him for it. Instead, she would generously teach him everything she knew.

“Li Zhen-jie…”

Looking at the him dressed in his police uniform and making a stupid face standing right next to Li Zhen-jie in sadness, he picks up the music box at the bottom of the box, turning the latch at the bottom to open it up as he listens to the melody repeat itself.

Suddenly, he sees a corner of what looks like paper trapped inside the box, and so he carefully uses the tip of his fingernails to grab at the corner of the aged paper, wanting to open it to see.

Shao Fei looks at the paper in disbelief, his eyes wide, this is actually something Chen Wen Hao wrote to Li Zhen-jie… a love letter?

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, and the only right thing I’ve ever done is to love you. — Wen Hao

“My god!”

Shao Fei cannot believe his eyes, and so continues to explore every corner of the music box, and as expected, he finds a birth certificate issued by a hospital and on it is printed…

Name of Mother - Li Li Zhen

Name of Mother’s Significant Other - Unspecified

Date of Birth - 21 October 1990

Gender - Male

“Li Zhen-jie had a kid? And the date of birth is 21 October 1990?”

How strange, why is this date so familiar?

Hold on!

“Don’t be too touched, after all I did chase after you for four years, of course I would know today is your birthday. 21 October, Libra, people who are born on this day have extraordinary personalities and thoughts, especially when it comes to personal matters, they are more persistent and firm in attitude.”

“Pfffft…. how accurate! Super accurate!”

21 October 1990, isn’t this Tang Yi’s birthday? Also…

“How coincidental, Li Zhen-jie also has a similar music box.”

“Is that so? This is the only thing my mother left me.”

“Could it be…?”

A thought suddenly flashes across Shao Fei’s mind, and so he picks up his jacket and rushes out of the office. He almost bumps into Zhao Zi, who has just come back from buying supper.

“Huh? Ah Fei where are you going? Ah Fei? Ah Fei?”

Shao Fei holds onto his steering wheel tight, his thoughts jumbled up in a mess as he drives at an urgent speed on the road.

Suddenly, the phone he left on the passenger seat rings. Turning his head for a brief glance, he sees that it is Tang Yi.

“I’m working on a case, let’s leave it at that for now.”

He quickly responds after picking the call up, and then hangs up immediately after, slamming his foot down on the accelerator to a destination unknown.

“…”

Inside the Tang mansion, a Xing Tian Meng leader sitting behind his study desk in his office, looks dumbly at his phone.

Someone actually dared to hang up on him?

“Forget it,” Tang Yi sighs, looking at his dark phone screen helplessly, and continues working his way through unfinished work.

—

Investigations Team Three, The Next Day

Lu Jun Wei hurriedly runs into the office, and seeing their Captain, he rushes until he’s right in front of him, “Bad news! Li Zhi De died in the prosecution’s holding room!”

Shi Da Pao tugs at his own shirt, his face filled with alarm and fear, “What happened? Why did he suddenly die?”

“I’m not very sure either, all I know is that it is all under investigation at the moment.”

Shi Da Pao looks at Zhao Zi, who was in the interrogation room together with Lu Jun Wei after midnight, and asks, “Did anything strange happen yesterday during interrogation?”

“No. Li Zhi De refused to speak, and thankfully, Guan Zhi-ge was there, that’s how we managed to get some information out of him.”

“Zhou Guan Zhi? Why was he interrogating with you guys?”

Zhao Zi scratches at the back of his head, and seeing his unusually furious captain, explains, “Because Li Zhi De was very tough to handle, and Guan Zhi-ge said that he could assist us.”

Shi Da Pao immediately shoves the documents in his hand away and walks out of the team office. Seeing their boss suddenly leave like this, the rest of the team exchange looks, revealing concerned expressions.

—

Tang Household

“Ah De’s death was sudden, we need to find out who exactly did it.” Tang Yi instructs while simultaneously walking into the house as he loosens his tie, his expression serious as he faces Jack.

“Yes, boss.”

“And take note of the reactions from each Xing Tian Meng faction, we must reassure our own people. After all, I was the one who sent Li Zhi De into the station, if we don’t handle this well, it will affect the progress of Hong Ye’s current accounts.”

“I understand, I will handle this immediately.”

After Jack leaves, Tang Yi picks up his phone and once again dials for Shao Fei’s phone number, but he is still directed to leave a message after no one picks up.

“I’m Meng Shao Fei, leave a message if you have something to say, if not, hang up, thanks!”

“Meng Shao Fei, where exactly are you?”

How could he not pick up his calls or return any of his messages for a whole day?

Irritated and frustrated, he walks towards his study, and the moment he pushes the door open, he sees the man who has been missing in action for almost 30 hours standing right in front of him. The man is smiling, delighted as he presses at the phone’s mic function, and replays his previous voice messages.

“Meng Shao Fei, my whole life, no one has ever dared to not pick up my calls, and not return any of my messages!”

“Where are you? Why aren’t you picking up my calls?”

“Shao Fei, it’s been a day, it’s okay if you don’t pick up my calls, at least send me a text message to let me know you’re safe, okay?

“Shao Fei, I’m really worried about you. Can you call me? I want to hear your voice…”

Shao Fei stares as Tang Yi’s expression morphs from embarrassment to anger, and smiles, “59 calls and 15 messages, you were that worried about me?”

Tang Yi glares at the person before him, and angry, he says sarcastically, “I thought Officer Meng had evaporated from the face of the earth.”

Shao Fei walks over and apologises, tightly hugging the other, “I didn’t realise that my phone fell under the car seat, and was out of battery. I’m sorry I made you worry for so long.”

Turning his hand and returning the hug from his lover, who always manages to make him feel unlike his usual self, Tang Yi sighs, “The next time you go missing, I will put a tracking device on you. What super important case is this, that you would not even realise you didn’t have your phone on you?”

“…”

Shao Fei looks at Tang Yi, hesitant as he wonders if he should tell him what he has found so far.

“What is it?” the other asks, sensitive to Shao Fei’s unusual reaction.

“Tang Yi, do you remember the names of your adoptive parents?”

“He Ru Yu, Li Shou Xing.”

Tang Yi’s brows are furrowed, as if incredibly unwilling to bring up these two people. Shao Fei takes out the notebook he has with him and flips to a specific page. He lets Tang Yi confirm the details.

“This address here, is this the place you used to stay at when you were younger?”

“Why are you investigating my past?” Tang Yi asks, staring straight at Shao Fei with alarm, caution and confusion.

“I’m not investigating you, I was actually on another case, and who knew I found some leads related to you.”

“Leads that are related to me?”

“Mnn,” Shao Fei nods, and inhaling deeply once, he gently says, “Tang Yi, I found your mother, your biological mother.”

Before he can finish speaking, the sound of a phone ringing interrupts him. Tang Yi’s looks at Shao Fei, startled, before picking up the call.

“Boss, xiaojie was taken away by He Hang’s people, he said he wants you to go over personally in exchange for xiaojie.”

“He. Hang!”

Tang Yi says these two words through gritted teeth, then pushes away the person hugging him and rushes out of the study.

“Tang Yi! Tang Yi!”

Shao Fei chases after him, worried, and unheeding of the other’s disapproval, he squeezes into the passenger seat and follows the murderous Xing Tian Meng leader to the destination highlighted by He Hang.

—-

Investigations Team Three Office - Staircase Landing

Zhou Guan Zhi is slammed heavily against the wall in the staircase landing, held up by Shi Da Pao via his collar.

Because the impact of the force used was too heavy, the man whose back struck the wall ends up in a coughing fit.

“Li Zhi De’s matter, were you the one?!”

“The person died at the prosecution’s office, how is that any of my business.”

Zhou Guan Zhi pushes Shi Da Pao away, turning around and about to leave, but the other man immediately grabs at him.

“If it wasn’t you, how would you have known that he’s dead? And you also know exactly where he died?”

He deliberately used the word ‘matter’ to replace ‘death’, and so if Zhou Guan Zhi really had nothing to do with this, then his first reaction would be similar to that of other Team Three members. It would be disbelief, fear and alarm, and not this look, as if he knew about this much earlier. Even the fact that Li Zhi De was transferred to the prosecution’s interrogation room from their own after midnight, he knows such a detail this clearly.

“You were afraid he would implicate you, and so you killed him, didn’t you?”

“Of course I’m afraid he will expose me, but boss, aren’t you afraid?”

Shi Da Pao’s eyes shift, and he retorts, “You were the one who murdered him, it’s nothing to do with me.”

“How could this not have anything to do with you? The one who let Ah Fei do as he like and investigate this case was you, the one who allowed him to protect Tang Yi right at his side was also you. In the end, we even got to the stage where Li Zhi De was brought back to the station, of course I had to silence him! If I wait until he reveals everything then you and I both are done for.”

The man, his gaze murderous and cold, laugh as he pats at the captain’s face.

“You actually knew what I was doing all along, but when have you ever stopped me during these four years? You gave the silent approval to your subordinate to sell off the drugs the police force obtained in return for a profit. Shi Da Pao, do you still think this has nothing to do with you?”

“…”

Shi Da Pao is speechless as he hears Zhou Guan Zhi’s accusations.

“Besides, that case four years ago, you were also a bystander who did nothing to stop it. What was Li Li Zhen’s relationship with you, that you would allow the rumours of her cooperating with Xing Tian Meng run rampant in the station? And you never once helped to clear her name, so you’re an accomplice. You are an accomplice who caused the death of others for your own greed, just like me!”

The last few words smash through the last of Shi Da Pao’s strength, and he numbly sits on the stairs. Covering his face in guilt, his voice weak, he says, “Why didn’t you just stop at the incident four years ago? Ah Zhi, you have already earned so much in the past few years. It’s enough! Stop already!”

“Enough?” the person who hears this cranes his neck upwards and sneers. “We police officers put our lives on the line day in and out only to earn this meagre salary. It’s not even enough to stuff the gaps of my teeth, how do I deal with those chasing me to repay debts? Stop putting yourself on a high horse, you are no different from me.”

Shi Dao Pao puts down the hands covering his face and looks at the person who’s slowly descending into insanity, and shakes his head, “You’re like this because you gamble, and this is your just desserts. And me… I did it to save my daughter. These four years, I’ve never once had a restful night, and I live in terror and regret everyday.”

Zhou Guan Zhi smirks, his eyes slanting to look at the person seated on the stairs, “Boss, as long as you took the money, your hands are dirty. No matter if it is because I deserve it, or if you were forced into a dead end, you’ve been tainted, and it is what it is.”

“Besides, isn’t it the money you took that year which allowed Xiao Ya to live on happily, all the way until now, when she’s able to have her wedding? So it doesn’t matter who wants to dig up the case from four years ago again, I will definitely not let him get away!”

He knows Zhou Guan Zhi is referring to Shao Fei, who has been so focused on the homicide case from four years ago, and he finally stands up, grips at Zhou Guan Zhi’s shirt collars and yells for him to stop.

“Ah Zhi, stop! Don’t fall any deeper into this!”

“Boss, don’t worry. I’ll be very subtle, no one will be able to find out. As long as you don’t say anything and I don’t say anything, after a period of time, this will be slowly forgotten by everyone,” Zhou Guan Zhi says, arrogantly slapping away the hands at his collar and turns away.

“Ah Zhi, aren’t you afraid that I will turn myself in and expose you?”

“You!”

Zhou Guan Zhi turns back abruptly, his eyes betraying his impulse to strangle Shi Da Pao to death right at that very moment, but Shi Da Pao is no amateur either, and if they really do get into a fight, he will not have it easy. Instead, he tries the soft approach, lightening his tone as he tries to convince his Captain that they are both on the same boat.

“Boss, don’t do foolish things. Xiao Ya is about to get married, and you’ve done so much for her. Don’t you want to see her happily get married, and become the most beautiful bride?”

“,,,”

Shi Da Pao’s eyes tear up as he keeps silent, Zhou Guan Zhi hitting him where it hurts. Seeing that he has gotten his way, Zhou Guan Zhi smiles, smug as he stuffs his hands into his jacket’s pockets. He leaves the staircase, whistling casually as he goes.

—

In an Abandoned Factory

Chen Wen Hao sits on a chair, two men standing next to him on his sides. On the other chair, Zuo Hong Ye’s hands have been tied behind her, and a cloth is stuffed into her mouth, but she displays no sign of fear as she glares at He Hang, who has a gun pressed to her temple. Tang Yi, who arrived with Shao Fei, nods at Gu Dao Yi, who has been waiting outside for a while, and the three of them walk into the abandoned factory that is filled with a metallic stench.

“I’m here, let Hong Ye go.”

“No problem. My target is not her. He Hang, let Zuo-xiaojie go.”

“Boss, aren’t we making it too easy for Tang Yi by letting Zuo Hong Ye go?” He Hang refuses to loosen the ropes on Hong Ye as he glares at Tang Yi in fury.

“Tang Yi, I’ve been in Xing Tian Meng for so long, why did Tang Guo Dong let you become leader? How much authority does Xing Tian Meng wield in the underworld, and you want to go legal and reform? Aside from cutting off our brothers’ path to riches, you also handed one of us over to the police! I might as well just kill you here, lest you get in the way.”

The gun that was pressed to Hong Ye’s brain suddenly shifts to the Xing Tian Meng leader standing before him, but all he gets in return is the other’s cold laugh, full of ridicule and mockery for He Hang.

“You? If you were really capable, how would you have repeatedly failed in trying to assassinate me?”

“Fuck! I will kill you right now with a single shot, do you not believe me?!”

“He Hang, did you forget that I am still here? You’re in no position to talk here.”

“Chen… Chen-ye… but…”

Chen Wen Hao’s seemingly light tone belies a chilling warning under it, and He Hang retreats, not daring to say another word.

“Yes… yes, Chen-ye…”

Drenched in cold sweat, the man immediately keeps his gun, and loosens the ropes on Hong Ye, then pushes her towards Tang Yi. Tang Yi catches Hong Ye, and asks, concerned, “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Dao Yi, take Hong Ye and go.”

The bespectacled man stands between He Hang and Hong Ye, as if guarding against the possibility of another attack should the other man change his mind.

“I’m not going to leave, I want to face this together with you at your side.”

“If you get hurt I will hate myself, so, just go!” Tang Yi says in a low voice, tightly holding onto Hong Ye’s arm.

“I understand, you be careful,” Hong Ye bites at her lips, her eyes reddening as she leaves the factory under Dao Yi’s protection.

Chen Wen Hao gets to his feet from the chair and circles Tang Yi as he walks, just like a predator playing with its prey, and says, “Do you know why I had to find you today? Is it because you killed Wang Kun Cheng? Because you cost me losses of several ships worth of goods? Because you sent a bunch of my brothers to jail? Or-“

Suddenly, Chen Wen Hao stops in his footsteps right before Tang Yi, and stares into his eyes.

“Is it because four years ago, you saw the crime scene of Tang Guo Dong and Li Li Zhen’s death?”

“…”

Anger flashes in Tang Yi’s eyes, and the moment he takes a step, he is stopped by the other’s raised gun.

“No! None of that! I got you to come here because you are Tang Guo Dong’s son. Tang Guo Dong stole my woman, caused the death of my and Li Li Zhen’s child, and found someone in prison to create trouble for me, made me go through 24 years in jail. Twenty. Four. Years!”

“…”

Shao Fei stares at Chen Wen Hao in surprise, recalling the brith certificate he saw not long ago.

Li Zhen-jie’s child, was Chen Wen Hao’s? Tang Yi’s biological mother, is Li Zhen-jie? So… Chen Wen Hao is Tang Yi’s real, biological…

Chen Wen Hao does not see the young officer’s face go white, and continues, “When I came out, Xing Tian Meng became yours? What a joke, how is it that Tang Guo Dong could have everything, but I ended up with a broken family and nothing to my name? No, this is not fair, isn’t it?”

He pauses for a while after, and a dark, vicious smile emerges, “So… I want you… dead!”

All the men that were guarding outside of the factory suddenly rush in, surrounding Tang Yi and Shao Fei from the back. The both of them have no choice but to put up both their hands and pretend to surrender. Shao Fei takes half a step, opening his mouth to say, “Chen Wen Hao, Tang Yi, he’s-“

“Shut up, this is no place for you to talk.”

Tang Yi suddenly falls to the floor, avoiding the line of fire from the barrel of the gun and kicks out at the man holding the gun on him. It is only after the man falls does Tang Yi snatch the gun away, turning back to face Chen Wen Hao, the gun pointed at him.

At the same time, Chen Wen Hao has his gun turned towards Tang Yi.

“Chen Wen Hao, I’ve devised this plan for four whole years, all to force you to come back from Cambodia to take revenge for Tang-ye, because, it was you who killed him!”

“No! I didn’t kill him!”

“Shut up! You’re going to pay with your life!”

“Tang Yi!”

“Don’t stop me!”

Seeing that things are about to spiral uncontrollably, to a point of no return, Shao Fei can no longer care about anything else, and quickly blurts out the truth from that year.

“Don’t shoot! Chen Wen Hao is your father!”

===

*This is a metaphor and you can temporarily ignore who Liu Bei is.

#history3: trapped #history 3: trapped #history 3: 圈套 #h3t #tangfei #tang yi #meng shao fei #history3 novel #translations #lmaooo it's been what #almost a year hahahaha

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dontshootmespence · 4 years

Text

Through It All

Part 29

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,728

Warnings: Pegging, scratching, handjob.

A/N: The next entry for @cm-kinkbingo run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fulfills my pegging square.

After what feels like an eternity (but is actually only a couple of days), you settle on your babies’ names: Morgan Diana and Blake Xing. Charlotte’s new room is all set up and you’re able to get started on the nursery for the babies. Well, adding to it. The Winnie the Pooh theme is something you still love and want to stick with, but you need double the crib space and double the dresser space, so as the weeks go by you add to their wardrobes with the help of family and friends.

Between Spence’s teaching, your job, parenting a toddler and getting ready to bring in not one, but two newborns, life takes on a well- life all its own. Through it all, Spence manages to keep you grounded, not always through sex, though you’ve been more than willing to be ‘at his disposal’ amidst the craziness. Aside from sex, he picks your outfits out every day, even down to what makeup you wear. He plans your weekly dates, down to finding friends and family to babysit Charlotte to carefully choosing where you’ll go and what you’ll do. He insists that you spend five minutes a day cuddling in bed just so you have time to breath.

You wonder whether he’s been able to breathe.

How Charlotte’s more than two years old now is beyond you. The time has gone by in such a way that you’ve been climbing up a mountain and sliding down it simultaneously, but after she’s in bed one night, just a few short weeks before the twins are supposed to arrive, you ask him how he’s feeling.

“What?” Spencer asks, a little taken off guard.

Grasping his hand, you maneuver yourself so you’re sitting in his lap facing him. “You’ve been taking such good care of me. Are you okay?”

Spencer closes his eyes and leans forward pressing the most chaste of kisses on your lips. “I’m a little overwhelmed. Nervous as all hell about parenting three kids under the age of three in less than a month. But I’m just focusing all that energy on you.” His hand slides up the soft cotton tank you’re wearing to bed.

Coasting your fingertips along his torso and underneath his chin, you tip his head up so his gaze meets yours. “Do you need to, or want to let go for a night?”

He allows his resolve to slip away for a moment. “Yea,” he whispers, lips full below his hooded gaze. “I think I’d like that.”

Smiling, you trail your lips along the side of his neck and wash your tongue over his pulse point, relishing in the sign that escapes him. It’s so rare that you’re the one in control, and you do prefer it that way, but it makes these moments even more heady that usual in an entirely different way. “Remember a while back, when we talked about me pegging you?”

By the glint in his eye you can tell he remembers and he’s willing, but you ask anyway. “Be gentle with me,” he chuckles softly.

“Always. What’s our word?”

Your whisper is featherlight, as is his reply.

Watching in awe as his control slips into your hands, you instruct him to undress and get on all fours while you go digging for some toys. Months back you’d bought a smaller strap-on in the event you got to do this. You weren’t about to use the kind he’s used on you. That’s thicker and a little intimidating for someone who’s never done this before. Instead, you pull out a thinner, short strap-on and a bottle of lube, throwing both on the bed behind Spencer’s cute little ass. He’s trying to steady his breathing. He’s definitely nervous, but he stays where he is. It’s one of the few times in your relationships he’s more than willing to flip the script.

“Relax, Spence. I’ve done my research.”

He chuckles and starts to relax as you strip and crawl onto the mattress behind him. Slipping the strap-on around your waist, you smile to yourself. Wielding the power on occasion is pretty fun.

In preparation for whenever this moment came around, you’ve been keeping your nails short. You squirt some lube into your palm and slicken one finger specifically. Doing this with your hands first is not really ideal, but you’re not about to start him off with a strap-on.

“I’m gonna start with a couple fingers first. You tell me when you’re ready for more.”

He doesn’t respond out loud. He just nods his head, but you allow it, pressing the tip of your pointer finger against his ass. You motion slowly, adding lube when necessary and suddenly slip past the tight ring. “Oh.” Spencer says. “That’s, um, wow.”

“Good wow?”

“Good wow.”

Watching how he reacts, you move your finger back and forth, taking in how his breath heaves and his balls tighten in anticipation. As soft moans leave him, his front half folding down into the bed, you introduce your second finger and chuckle to yourself when his eyes widen. “Honestly, I wasn't sure I was going to like this,” he says, swallowing thickly. “But I do. I really do.”

As you continue to move, hooking your finger randomly to see what he likes and what he doesn’t, you keep him talking. When he’s talking, at least with you, he’s much more relaxed. You ask him what he feels, where he enjoys the pressure. The right side gets him more than the left and the deeper the better. “Do you think you’re ready for more? It’s okay if you aren’t,” you add quickly.

His face is flushed red. So rare for him in this capacity. You love it.

“Yea, I think I am.”

“Good boy.”

While you lube up the strap-on with one hand, you rake your fingers down his back and across his ass. Pinkish marks appear a second in the wake of your fingers and Spencer hisses when you scratch across his ass.

Just as before, you slowly press the tip of the strap on against him, but there isn’t as much resistance as before. Still, you make sure to take it slow, helping him to relax by bending over him to reach around and grab his cock, stroking softly until you’ve eased in. “How’s that feel, love?”

He swallows hard before he’s able to respond. “Full.”

You giggle because you can tell. Even the strap-on isn’t a part of you, you can feel it move as he tightens around it. “You okay if I move?”

“Yes,” he says assuredly.

With all the grace you can muster (which admittedly isn’t much), you begin to thrust and revel in the way he groans. Pivoting to the right, you feel him tremble. Underneath the strap-on, you can tell how wet you are. Even though physically there isn’t much stimulation, Spencer’s reactions leave your breaths heavy and your movements slightly erratic at best. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that underneath you, Spencer is huffing and groaning. His body is slick with sweat. His tongue keeps coming out to wash over his bottom lip. His eyes are fluttering closed.

For the first time in a long time, he’s letting go - and watching that happen - that’s what’s getting to you.

“Fuck, Y/N, I-”

“Shh,” you whisper. “I’ve got you.” As you move, your thrusts and rolls become slightly more practiced, allowing you to return to the gentle strokes you were giving his cock before. With each thrust, you stroke your hand down the length and him and rub circles on the head of his cock with your finger.

Spencer starts bucking into your hand, a string of expletives leaving his mouth as he begs you for release. But you don’t give it to him. Not yet. He wanted to lose himself for a bit so you’re going to make it happen. “Not yet, Spence. Almost. I promise.”

You start to lose control yourself, simultaneously wanting to watch him unravel and keep on a string for as long as possible. When you finally can’t take it anymore, you scratch your teeth along his back and coax him into letting go. “It’s okay, Spence. Come for me. Let go.”

With your permission, his eyes shoot open and his body takes a hold of itself like it barely has any connection to his brain. He thrusts down into your hand and back into you at the same time, groaning as he does so. Each one long and drawn out. It’s like every buck and wave of his lithe form is his body’s way of giving his mind permission to let go.

“Oh, fuck!” He grits his teeth as he explodes into your hand and onto his stomach.

Careful not to hurt him, you ease out and undo the ties around your waist so you can toss it aside until later. His shockwaves subside and you collapse at his side. “How’re you feeling, Sir?”

He’s still a little shaky, buck naked and face down in the sheets, but he smiles and pulls you to his side. “Good. Really good. I mean, wow. Didn’t expect to like it that much.”

“Me either.”

“Yea?”

“Yea, I mean I didn’t orgasm or anything but just watching you lose it and knowing I was the cause. Fuck, that was just as good.”

“Welcome to my world, babe.” He waits a moment, settling himself into the sheets. “Can we just pass out here? I’ll help you clean up in the morning.”

“Yea,” you laugh, pulling at the thin sheet sitting on top of the fitted sheet. “Might wanna toss this to the side though. Don’t wanna get crusty.”

Spencer laughs out loud. “Sex is gross.”

“Yea it is.”

“Good thing it’s fun.”

---

In the following days, you catch up with Ai and Kyle; she tells you that none of her shirts fit anymore so she’s flashing midriff like a 90s popstar. And she’s in a hell of a lot of pain considering her center of gravity is royally fucked with two full grown babies walking around in there. But otherwise she’s okay.

“I just can’t wait to get these babies out of me,” she laughs. “I want to meet them. I want you to meet them. I’m just-

“Ai, you okay?”

“My water just broke.”

“Spence, it’s baby time!”

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1 @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid @lazynoodledragon @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97 @grace-superpowers @softestlavender @ssa-dr-ladylock @drprettyboy @patricks-fabulous-face @tearosaria @shxdowofdarkness @marvels-gurl @gublergirls

#through it all #the most natural thing in the world #dontshootmespence #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut

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vino-and-doggos · 4 years

Text

Descendants

Happy holidays to @maikusakabe! I am your Secret Santa for @fmasecretsanta2020 :) I hope you enjoy.

READ ON AO3

Pairing: Roy/Ed Words: 2633 Rating: G Tags: family fic; Bisexual!Roy Mustang; Roy has a kid; Roy/Ed is pretty background but they’re super adorable together; mentions of sex but nothing over g-rated Summary: A teenager shows up on Ed and Roy’s doorstep claiming to be Roy’s son - and a member of the Yao clan. A knock echoed throughout the townhouse. “Ed? Did you invite someone over?” Roy called from the kitchen. “Not that I remember!” he answered from the study. Edward was curled up like a cat in the armchair in front of the fire, an open book resting gently against his thigh. “I’ll get the door though. Wouldn’t want you to burn the sauce!” “That was one time!” Roy shouted, the smile evident in his voice. Yes, it was only once, but when did Ed ever let anything go? A week from never, Ed’s voice answered in Roy’s head, and Roy couldn’t help the undignified chuckle-snort that escaped him. He could hear the dull mumbles of a conversation in the foyer, Ed’s rich tenor playing off of a lighter voice. The short amount of time without his sight allowed him to easily discern voices in a crowd and footsteps down the halls of Central Command; however, nothing short of supersonic hearing would allow him to hear the exact conversation happening through a door, down the hallway. Roy busied himself with mincing the garlic. He added it to the pot of shimmering tomato sauce and stirred before grabbing a clean spoon from the counter, dipping it into the sauce, and lifting it to his lips. He considered the flavors for a second and reached into the cabinet to his right, pulling out the sugar. Roy added a small amount, stirred, and tasted again. It was perfect - just enough sugar to take the acidity away from the tomatoes and allow the seasonings to sing. He turned to get the pasta out of the pantry when the snick of the foyer door closing caught his attention. The voices had halted, and he shouted, “Ed, is everything okay?” “Jeeze, Mustang, no need to yell, I’m right here,” Ed’s voice echoed in the hall, right outside the entrance to the kitchen. “Who was at the door?” Roy asked lightly, grabbing the box of pasta and turning back to the stove, his back to the doorway. “Uh, well…” Ed started, “he’s kind of still here.” Roy spun on his heel to see a boy about Ed’s shoulder in height with jet black hair in a tousled mop, nearly hiding his deep brown, almond-shaped eyes. “Oh,” Roy said, quickly grabbing a tea towel and wiping his hands. “Roy Mustang,” he offered, thrusting his hand forward for the kid to shake. The boy took it sheepishly. “Ju-long, sir. It’s… well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he stammered. “Is there something I can help you with?” Roy prodded. He could hear the bubbling of the boiling water behind him and realized he never put the pasta in the water. “Um, I don’t really know how to say this, so it might be best to just come out and say it. I’m your son. ”The silence echoed throughout the kitchen for a few seconds. The silence was broken by Roy chuckling and turning back to the stove, emptying the box of pasta into the pot and giving it a quick stir. He shook his head and turned back around to face his supposed son. “That’s pretty funny, Ed. Where did you find someone who was willing to pull off this prank with you? This has Havoc’s name written all over it.” “Roy,” Ed started. He walked across the kitchen, taking Roy’s hand gently in his own before continuing. “I don’t think this is a prank. Maybe you’d better listen to Ju-long.” Ed’s golden eyes, normally liquid pools of honey, were hardened, resembling amber - hard, nearly glassy. There was no way. Roy heard a ringing in his ears and felt his mouth go dry. He felt like he was simultaneously flying and drowning. His vision faded to tunnels. His lungs burned even as he breathed heavily and deeply; his hands reached up to swipe over his face and he shakily wiped the cold sweat from his brow. A son? It wasn’t possible. Physically, yes, in theory it was. There were many liaisons over the years. It wasn’t a question of possibility, it was more so a question of the logistics - when and who. Roy? Roy, hon, come on, he heard reverberating in his skull. He knew that voice. It was Edward. He blinked in quick succession and shook his head slightly. Roy was seated at the kitchen table with Ed kneeling in front of him. Ed’s eyes had returned to the pools of honey, and Roy saw that they were filled with concern. “Hey, there,” Ed said tenderly, reaching up and brushing Roy’s bangs from his face. “You okay? I mean, I don’t think that you have to be okay or anything, that was a perfectly acceptable reaction, I just wanted to know if you’re -” “I’m fine, Ed. Thank you.” Roy could tell that Ed wasn’t about to let the subject drop but was able to silence his next tirade with a look. Ed leaned into Roy, grasping him in a hug. “Is it true then?” Ed whispered. Roy ignored him and looked at the boy standing in his kitchen over Ed’s shoulder, gently but insistently slipping from the blond’s grasp and standing up. He crossed the room, taking in Ju-long as he went, noting similarities between them both. “I have so many questions for you, Mr. Mustang,” Ju-long said quietly, as if he were aware that speaking too loudly might break Roy. “As I do for you,” Roy answered, his voice raspy. “Would -” he cleared his throat and continued, slightly stronger, “you like to stay for dinner?” Ju-long smiled. “I would like nothing more, sir.” Roy went back to the stove, realizing that Ed turned off the burners at some point. Thankfully, the sauce wasn’t burnt and the pasta was at a perfect al dente. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s quite tasty, if I do say so myself,” Roy said. Why did he feel like he had to explain himself? Ed must have sensed that Roy was flailing. “Ah, don’t let him fool you - the man can cook.” The blond flashed them both a wide, winning smile, grabbed a plate from the cabinet, and proceeded to fill it up with what Roy considered an exorbitant amount of food. The two brunettes followed suit, and Ed led the way into the dining room. There was a clutter of cutlery and china and of chairs scraping across hardwood. Light clinks of silverware seemed to be magnified under the strangeness of the situation. Roy took a bite; his food was not nearly as flavorful as he remembered it being when he was cooking it. In fact, he almost felt a bit nauseous. He placed his fork down gently. “I would like to know your story.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Please,” quietly. Ju-long put down his fork as well. “That’s fair, sir. Where would you like me to start?” “Tell me about you. I know your name, but nothing else.” “Right,” Ju-long nodded. “Um… well, I’m fourteen, turning fifteen next year. My name means ‘powerful as a dragon’ - probably to reference you. I was raised in Xing by my mother, Jia. We live under the protection of the Yao clan because of me, so I had a pretty comfortable childhood.” “Wait a second, why were you under the protection of the Yao clan?” Ed interjected. “And why because of you?” “You...don’t know?” the young man asked, looking pointedly at Roy, who looked as confused as Ed. “Neither of you know?” Both shook their heads, glancing at each other and back to Ju-long, who took a deep breath. “My full name is Ju-long Yao. Roy Mustang is a descendant of the Yao clan through his mother’s line.” He hesitated for a moment. “Your mother was Xingese, wasn’t she?” “She was,” Roy affirmed, nodding dazedly. His mother was Xingese royalty? “A distant relative of the current emperor, Emperor Ling, but yes. She was. The Yao clan, in your mother’s time, was splintered and dangerous. She came to Amestris young, I was told.” Roy nodded again. “She was a teenager… about your age, if I remember correctly. She sought shelter from my aunt after making it to Central City. That’s how she met my father.” “That’s how I heard it too,” Ju-long agreed. “After I was born, Emperor Ling insisted that I take the Yao name instead of my mother’s or yours, Mr. Mustang. He said that it would allow him to provide us extra protection.” “How long has Ling known that I was a member of the Yao clan?” Roy asked. “He never mentioned it to me,” he said, turning to Ed, a question behind his eyes. “Nope, that never came up,” said Ed. “I’m not sure,” Ju-long said tentatively. “All I know is that he knew by the time I was born.” A heavy weight settled in the room, causing Roy’s breath to stutter. Wave after wave of uncertainty crashed through his mind. How could this be possible? Was he being taken for a ride? “Tell me about your mother,” Roy requested. Ju-long relaxed and his smile became soft and luminous all at once. “My mother… she’s wonderful. She previously worked at the palace. Now, she serves as a mentor to the young girls who work there. She helps them learn to read and write, as well as trains them in duties around the palace.” “Did she tell you how we met? About how - how you were conceived?” Roy prompted, somewhat awkwardly. Ju-long blushed slightly, but said, “Yes, sir. She did.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “It was during Emperor Ling’s coronation. She was working to serve food and drink to the guests. She said that you...propositioned her and she thought you were a handsome man, so she agreed. She said that you parted ways, but you told her that you would love to see her again, soon.” “I don’t remember anything from Ling’s coronation,” Roy said, his tone dazed.“ Roy, I remember that trip,” Ed interjected. “That’s the trip where you fell and busted open your head!” “My head?” “Yeah, Riza was ready to kill you. She thought you were drunk and fell on your way back to your room, but that doesn’t sound right, now that I’m hearing the first part of the story.” Ju-long interrupted, “No, my mother always told me that he wasn’t drunk, which is why she was so confused about what happened the following morning.” Ed said “Maybe you tripped - I probably tripped twenty times myself in that stuff we had to wear.” “It’s possible,” Roy said before motioning for Ju-long to continue. “She came up to you the following morning and asked if you would like to take a walk with her around the gardens. You told her that you didn’t know who she was. She told you her name, insisting that you had met the night before, and you kept denying it. My mother assumed that you just wanted a fling, a one-off kind of situation and decided to walk away. That’s why she didn’t try and contact you when she discovered that she was pregnant with me.” Things started to fall into place. Though hazy, flashes of a beautiful Xingese woman in traditional garb appeared in his mind’s eye; in some, they were in public, dancing and laughing. In others, they were alone, clothes disheveled, the room dark. The memories felt as though they were buried deep, or maybe not even his own. They were there, though. It was nearly undeniable. “A son,” Roy murmured. “I have a son.” “Ju-long, where were you planning on staying tonight? It’s getting late, and if I’m not being too presumptuous, you can stay in the spare bedroom here,” Ed offered, flashing a quick smile at Roy who returned one. “I would be honored to stay with you,” Ju-long said, adding his smile to the mix. Roy could see his own smile reflected back on a slightly different visage. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” Ed said, pushing back from the table. Ju-long stood and followed him, throwing one more smile at Roy as he went. “Goodnight,” Roy called as he stood himself and cleared the dishes from the table to the kitchen. The rest of the clean-up could wait until morning. Now, it was time to rest. ~ Roy and Ed lay in the darkness, cuddled up together. “Did you have any idea?” Ed asked gently. Roy couldn’t blame him for being curious. “None at all,” he responded frankly. “I mean, I suppose I always knew it was possible that I had a child out there. You know I’ve been with as many women as men. Growing up in a brothel tends to do that to you.” “Roy, you don’t have to justify your past with me. We didn’t get together for nearly four years after this happened; I can hardly hold you accountable. We both know that it’s just that - in the past.” “But it’s not, Ed,” Roy protested. “The error of my ways is sleeping in a room across the hall. What if there are others? What if -” “We can’t live our lives around what-ifs,” Ed interjected. “Besides, even if there were others, would you love them any less? I know you, Roy,” the blond said as he lifted his head and kissed Roy’s jaw. “You would want to be involved. We’ve had the kids discussion, we both know that if we were in better positions and home more often, we would have adopted a long time ago. So what if you have another kid pop up out there? You won’t love them any less. I can tell you already unconditionally love Ju-long.” Roy felt his throat constrict and felt his eyes burn. Ed was right. “I love you,” Roy whispered, kissing the crown of Ed’s golden hair. “Love you, too,” Ed responded as sleep claimed them both. Emotional exhaustion was a powerful drug. ~

The next morning, Ju-long came downstairs holding a piece of yellow parchment with intricate, delicate writing on it. He handed it over to Roy. “This was the real reason why I volunteered to come,” he said sheepishly. “Emperor Ling is holding an anniversary celebration of his coronation. Next year will be the 15th anniversary, and he sent you both an invitation to attend.” “Sweet!” exclaimed Ed. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to travel back to Xing!” Roy smiled at his husband’s excitement. “I think a trip to Xing next year would be lovely.” Ju-long took a breath as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Roy noticed and prompted the boy - his son - to say it. “I was just wondering if maybe - if I could stay here until you travel to Xing? And we could go together?” He looked so nervous that Roy couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course you can,” Roy said genially, glancing at Ed to confirm that it was okay, who nodded in assent. “I would love to show you around Central, maybe travel a bit around Amestris. I especially want to introduce you to Aunt Chris and my team.” “I would love that, sir,” Ju-long said, a grin splitting his face. “Ju-long, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’,” Roy admonished gently. “Don’t feel like you have to call me ‘dad’ or anything, but you don’t have to be so formal. Just ‘Roy’ is fine.” “Roy. I can do that.” “Alright, who wants to go out for breakfast?” Ed asked excitedly. “I know a fun little place right across from the university. It has the best coffee!” “Breakfast sounds excellent,” Roy said happily. The three stepped outside together, their first meal out as a family. Roy smiled. This is true happiness, he thought as they started down the road together.

#FMA secret santa 2020 #FMA secret santa #vino writes fanfiction #fma fanfiction #can you not put a cut in things now #i haven't actually posted on tumblr in so long #i'm sorry you have to scroll past this on your dashboard if you're not interested in reading it #seriously how do i put a cut in things now

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tearsofthemis · 4 years

Text

Tears of Themis : Chapter 1 “Social Snobbery” Part 6

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▌ Location- Break room

(By the time Zuo Ran ended his phone call, the break room was empty. He picked up the intermediate lawyer examination prep guide that was left on the coffee table, and flipped through the notes that she took in the pages.)

Zuo Ran: “To find a partner, huh…”

(Zuo Ran put down the book, and sent out a voice memo.)

Zuo Ran: “Zhai Xing, in regards to your suggestion that I find a partner to reduce my workload. Do you have any recommendations?”

(His message was read, and replied to instantly.)

Zhai Xing (voice memo): “Depends on what kind of person you’re looking for. If there’s no one in Themis that catches your eye, I can hire someone.”

(Zuo Ran paused to think about his reply.)

Zuo Ran: “I don’t have high demands, as long as they’re upright, persevering, and won't succumb to authority. In regards to qualifications they should be comparable to me- no, forget that, as long as they’re qualified, there’s no need for them to be like me in terms of ability or temperament. What I need is a mirror, not an imitator.” (Zuo Ran rarely sends texts, let alone so many at once. There was no response from Zhai Xing.)

Zuo Ran: “I guess she can’t think of anyone suitable…” (Zhai Xing’s reply came at last, as Zuo Ran prepared to head back to his office.)

Zhai Xing (voice memo): “You call this, ‘not demanding’?! Wake up, Zuo Ran! Those qualified to be your mirror are far and few!” (After hearing Zhai Xing’s outburst, Zuo Ran sighed. He drew his attention back to the spread of exam books on the coffee table, and brushed his finger over the cover.)

Zuo Ran: “Far and few… you say…”

~~~

▌ Location- Commerce Avenue

(On our way to QingPing restaurant, XinRan and I coincidentally met up with Xia Yan, a good friend of mine that I lost contact with eight years ago.)

MC: “XinRan said she hired a detective, it must be you!”

(A bio-engineering honors student from Capital University, abandoned his career path as a scientist, only to return as a budding detective?!)

Xia Yan: “Of course. I don’t understand why you’re so shocked, doing detective work is my lifelong passion. I’m finally able to fulfill my dreams!”

MC: “That, is unexpected to say the least…”

Xia Yan: “Then the lawyer that Miss. Xue was looking for, that must be you. It looks like you also fulfilled your goal of attending Stellis University’s law school.” (I was still reeling from the information overload, and I couldn’t pay attention to what Xia Yan was saying.)

Xue XinYan: “That’s right, it’s her. I didn’t know you guys knew each other.” (XinRan looked at us, but chose not to press any further.)

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang lives on the second floor of the restaurant. He should be at home, let me call him down.” (XinRan went up and knocked on the door. I quickly composed myself, pulling my mind away from dwelling on our fateful encounter, but Xia Yan kept smiling, his eyes focused on me all the while.)

MC: “Why… do you keep looking at me?”

Xia Yan: “Even after so many years apart, you haven’t changed.”

MC: “That’s impossible, it’s been eight years, change is bound to happen. I mean, I’ve definitely grown taller.” Xia Yan: “But not in my eyes, you’ll always be my… Just like back when I was sixteen, exactly the same.” MC: “Must you speak so vaguely? Like you? Are you labeling me as a tomboy?”

Xia Yan: “No no...”

MC: “I was kidding, relax.”

(The restaurant door was opened by a man with snowy white hair. This must be Fang Yuan.)

Fang Yuan: “XinRan, I’ve already told you not to bother with the case. The health inspection team has already reached their verdict, there’s no point in investigating further.”

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang, even if we must pay the settlement, we shouldn’t let those customers demand unrealistic charges. Look, I’ve found these two people that can help us.”

MC: “Hello, Mr. Fang. My name is-”

(I hesitated to finish my self introduction after I took in Fang Yuan’s exhausted state.)

MC: (Mr. Fang doesn’t look alright…)

~~~Investigation start!~~~

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s mouth]

AI:

“Ah, there, we can see his face clearer. But… Why are Grandpa Fang’s lips purple? According to the big data center, purple discoloration on the lips can be attributed to cardiovascular disease.”

[Select, “heart issues”]

MC: (Cyanosis present on the lip, should be a sign of his ailing heart condition.)

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s eyes]

MC: “He’s got pretty nasty dark circles. I bet he’s lost sleep over the incident in his restaurant.”

▌ [Examine Fang Yuan’s hand, select “bruising from IV”]

MC: (Did the countless IV drips leave behind such a deep bruise? A cardiac condition at Grandpa Fang’s age is serious and his health must have taken a big toll. I need to watch what I say when we interrogate him, it would be bad if we caused him emotional shock. It’s as XinRan said, Grandpa Fang is quite frail, and he looks tired. Considering the fact that he detests lawyers, I should hide my identity for now.)

AI: “It looks like you have come to your own conclusion, let’s finish this investigation.”

~~~Investigation end!~~~

MC: “I am PI Xia’s assistant, and this, is Mr. Xia Yan.” (Xia Yan did not react to my cover-up. Thankfully, he didn’t question it, either.)

Xia Yan: “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fang, my name is Xia Yan. My mother and father left this world when I was young, and if it weren’t for kindhearted people like yourself, there was no way I would’ve been able to attend university either. Ah, Miss Xue has informed me of your situation, and I admire what you have done out of the goodness of your heart. We’re here today because we would truly like to help. I sincerely ask for your permission to investigate your case, would that be alright?” (Perhaps it was Xia Yan’s convincing words, or his infectious and honest smile, that made Fang Yuan cave to his demand.)

Fang Yuan: “Let’s talk inside.” (As Mr.Fang let us inside, I purposely lagged behind so I could walk behind the group as any dutiful assistant would. Xia Yan leaned down and whispered by my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine as I blushed.)

Xia Yan: “You sure got into character quickly.”

MC: “I’m only pulling from the childhood experience of pretending to be your assistant when we played detective. It feels like muscle memory by now. But aren’t you curious as to why I chose to hide my identity?” Xia Yan: “Of course I am. But you have my trust, and that’s not something a little bit of time between us will change, right? I trust you.”

~~~

▌ Location- QingPing Restaurant

Xia Yan: “Mr, Fang, can you confirm that you were the one that accidentally mixed the powdered pesticide into the spring water?”

(Once we were seated in the restaurant, Xia Yan began questioning Mr. Fang. The questions that he asked were the exact same as the ones we asked XinRan back at the law firm.)

[Flashback]

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang said that he was the one who sprinkled the pesticide powder, and his poor eyesight is to blame for mistaking the water source. He wasn’t paying attention…”

Zuo Ran: “He claims he wasn’t paying attention, but afterward is so sure that it was caused by his misoperation. That’s a logical fallacy...”

[Flashback ends]

Fang Yuan: “It was me. Sigh, I’m getting old, and can't see or move around like I used to. I wasn’t careful…”

Xia Yan: “On the day of the incident, when was the spring water delivered to the restaurant?”

Fang Yuan: “The spring water is sourced from YunXia Mountain, and is usually delivered everyday around 6 AM.” Xia Yan: “After the water delivery, was there always someone present in the restaurant?”

Fang Yuan: “No, the restaurant was empty from 6 AM to 8 AM. The helper and I went out to purchase produce for today’s service. The waiter, Xiao Zhao, arrived at 9 AM…” (Fang Yuan’s sentence was cut short by a coughing fit, turning his face bright red with effort as he hacked.)

XinRan: “Grandpa Fang, are you alright?”

Fang Yuan: “XinRan, help me upstairs. My chest hurts, and I would like to rest…”

MC: “Mr. Fang, is it serious? Do you need to go to the hospital?” Fang Yuan: “No, that won’t be necessary. It’s an old condition, and I’ll be alright once I lie down and rest. The restaurant encompasses the entire first floor, feel free to check what you need. I use that computer there for bookkeeping, there’s no password on it. If you need to use it, be my guest. Although, it’s been two weeks since the incident. The restaurant is cleaned daily, and any leftover food or ingredients have been thrown away. I don’t know if investigating will help, I’m afraid.”

(We watched XinRan help Fang Yuan up the stairs. The moment they were out of earshot, I turned and whispered to Xia Yan.)

MC: “Mr. Fang’s attitude back there was a little strange. Hopefully we can find clues that they missed. The sooner we can crack the case, the better. But he’s been pessimistic from the start, emphasizing that the restaurant isn’t worth looking into. The way he answered your question was barely satisfactory.

Xia Yan: “The way I see it, he isn’t fully willing to cooperate with us, the reason why we weren’t denied earlier is because he didn’t want to seem suspicious. On the other hand, food poisoning caused by ingestion of pesticide itself is suspicious as well. Since the majority of pesticides available on the market are harmless to humans, why would Mr. Fang purchase anything dangerous for use in a restaurant?” MC: “We don’t have an answer for that either…”

-------

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《CREDIT》 Translator: @humi-and-co Editor: @hallowsivy 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo.

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #tears of themis trans #otome #otome game #zuo ran #xia yan #夏彦 #左然 #未定事件簿

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firewoodfigs · 4 years

Text

letters to a young poet

Summary: Riza Hawkeye, a young, aspiring poet, exchanges letters with her fiancé, Roy Mustang during his time in the military academy. He attempts to write her poems and prose about life and love, and occasionally sends her presents to remind her of him. Like his boxers.

read on ao3

(a/n: (i) title is taken from Rilke's book. (ii) tw: the timeline of this is largely based on yet another man's battlefield, so there are brief mentions of racism here. (iii) I recommend reading on ao3 instead because... formatting issues, again xD (iv) original poetry at the end)

for @royaiweek 2020 - thank you to the lovely mods for organising!! 💖

~x~

“Promise you’ll write to me when I’m away?”

“Of course, Roy,” Riza drawls idly as she adjusts his coat and ensures that his tie is neatly in place.

“Thank you. I’m going to miss you terribly, you know,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before stretching his arms out invitingly. Smiling, she leans in and allows herself to be crushed to his chest in a warm, firm embrace.

God, I’m really going to miss her, he thinks, as he inhales her scent - a lovely mix of gunpowder and peonies and old books - and incarcerates it in his memory.

Roy steps back to admire her pretty countenance properly. Pride and admiration swells in his heart, and he can't help but run his fingers gently through her flaxen tresses once more before resting them on her lips.

“Let me be your muse,” Roy declares with a triumphant grin, pressing a hand to his heart with a melodramatic flourish that earns an amused eye roll from his fiancée. “For parting is such sweet sorrow, and -“

“Shut up.” She pulls him by his tie to kiss him roughly, before flashing a wicked grin and kicking him out of the door. “Get going, you lovesick, histrionic fool.”

Riza throws his belongings out and slams the door as he stares at the wood longingly with an endearing pout.

~x~

June 8th

Dear Riza,

How doth your literary endeavours come along? I hope all is well with thee. Whenever I close my eyes, I see you Like a midsummer’s night dream, exquisite And when I open my eyes to sunlight I cannot wait to see you once again.

All my love, Roy.

~x~

June 12th

Roy,

Stop trying to imitate Shakespeare and force all your sentences into iambic pentameters. It makes me shudder - in disgust, not delight, lest you misconstrue what I’m saying.

Anyway, my literary endeavours are coming along fine. I’ve been spending my time reading some of the books you got me for my birthday, and for someone who writes so incorrigibly you sure do have impeccable taste. All is well on my end. What about you? How are you adjusting to the academy?

Thanks for the pressed flowers that you sent over, by the way. They’re surprisingly lovely, though I’m sure all credit goes to Vanessa’s guidance.

I also enclosed a scarf that I personally knitted for you in case it gets cold at night. Because you have an uncanny tendency to misplace your things, I embroidered a few water droplets in blue at the bottom for clearer identification (if you lose it I’m never making you anything ever again, this took me days to complete).

Hopefully, they serve as a reminder to you that you’re useless in the rain as well, so that you’ll refrain from doing anything reckless or stupid in my absence.

All my love, Riza.

~x~

Roy tears the package open with all the enthusiasm of a child opening his presents on Christmas morning the instant it lands in his hands. His eyes light up appreciatively at the lovely scarf, laughing at the tiny water droplets at the bottom that she’d added as a personal touch.

When he reads her letter and realises its intended meaning, though, an indignant frown makes its way to his handsome features.

Nevertheless, he dons it on immediately, relishing in the warm comfort and how it smelt like her, like flowers blooming in spring (even if his fiancée didn’t appreciate his poetic attempts, he very much liked to believe he was capable of using a simile properly).

June 16th

Dear Riza,

Thank you for the lovely gift, although your harsh words wound me terribly. Nevertheless, I understand that underneath your acerbic tongue lies a tender heart full of love, and I am a lucky man to be the sole recipient of it. I’m glad you liked the flowers. One day I’ll buy you a carful of them, I promise.

Things are going fine here. I’m adjusting well to the ridiculous sleep schedule (you’re the only person I know who willingly wakes up at seven in the morning daily), and with the rigorous physical training we have to endure I believe you’ll have a glorious set of washboard abs to admire the next time you see me.

I must say, though, the food here is pretty bad. Spinach quiche is pretty much the only edible thing, but this man - I think his name was Huggles or something. Sorry, Hughes - had the audacity to take the last piece of quiche right under my nose.

(Per your commands, though, I refrained from trying anything stupid.)

What’s even worse is the racial prejudice. The other day I saw an Ishvalan getting bullied by a trio of ugly men, but they left before I realised what was really happening… So I helped him out after that. I can’t bear it, to this day - they picked on him just because of his skin colour, for goodness sake! It was completely unwarranted.

It’s only been a week but I already miss you terribly. Can’t wait till I see you again.

All my love, which extends from one end of Amestris to Xing, Roy.

~x~

June 21st

Dear Roy,

Sure, keep deluding yourself however you like if it makes you happy. You’re not the only recipient, by the way - I made a cute little scarf for Hayate, too, who has replaced your ‘snuggling spot’ in my bed, as you like to call it. Between the both of you I sometimes can’t tell who smells worse.

Also, don’t be ridiculous - what would I even do with a carful of flowers?

I’m glad to hear that things are fine on your end. Waking up at seven is a wonderful thing, especially when you get to see the sunrise, no? I look forward to seeing those abs, though with your drinking habits I’m sure you’ll probably end up with a beer belly in the foreseeable future. Don’t drink too much.

I’m sorry to hear about the quiche. I’ll make you one when you’re back. If it makes you feel better, though, I’ve sent some cookies I made the other day to you as well. Express delivery, in case they go bad.

Also, even if you haven’t already punched the Hughes guy I can already envision you slamming your tray down on the table, turning around to scowl at him like a petulant child and competing with him in just about everything you do.

All I will say is this: relax, it’s just a bloody quiche.

Good to know that you did that! The Ishvalans most certainly don’t deserve such treatment. No one does, of course, but it’s frustrating that certain ethnicities still continue to be singled out and ostracised in Amestris, despite the state’s proclamation that it’s a cosmopolitan society accepting of different cultures and whatnot… Until then, we have to stand with them, stand up for what’s right, and -- oh, I don’t mean to ramble. Just know that I’m proud of you, Roy. Keep at it.

If it does make you feel better I suppose a tiny part of me does miss you too. Just the slightest.

All my love, Riza (not interested in your silly competitions) Hawkeye.

~x~

Roy blanched at the bag of cookies she’d sent him and the thought of Riza’s quiche. Cooking had never been her strongest suit, and while she was talented in many areas somehow all of that seemed to go away every time she entered a kitchen.

Nevertheless, it was Riza who’d painstakingly made them, and because he appreciates his fiancée’s efforts he vows to eat every single one of them even in her absence.

He bites down on a cookie apprehensively, and is pleasantly surprised to discover that it’s edible. It bears emphasising that this is an incredible feat for Riza Hawkeye - considering how she’d managed to almost burn the entire kitchen down when she tried to make a simple pasta dish for his birthday.

(Fortunately, they’d managed to extinguish it, but afterwards Roy mentally designated himself as head chef for the rest of their lives.)

Deeply touched by the gesture, he wraps one of his shirts to send back as a gift. The thought of her dressed in his apparel has him grinning like the lovesick, histrionic fool that Riza said he was.

June 26th

Dear Riza,

Don’t say that, I definitely smell better than Hayate. And I know for a fact that you love me, although maybe not as much as I love you -- my love for you knows no territorial boundaries.

You could curate your own gardens with a carful of flowers, I suppose. And we could… Well, smell the flowers and procrastinate together?

It is - the sunlight reminds me of you, and I appreciate that. A lot. I also haven’t been drinking, so don’t worry - these glorious abs are definitely en route to you.

Thank you for the cookies - they were delicious, and I look forward to your quiche when I return. Baby steps, alright? I hope the kitchen will still be intact when I come home.

… It’s sometimes creepy how well you know me… But I think you’ll be pleased to at least know that I became friends with Hughes, after we confronted said trio.

We also made a new friend today - Heathcliff! He’s the Ishvalan I told you about in my last letter. He told us he joined the military because he wanted to change and empower the people’s perceptions of Ishval and its culture from a point of leadership. I think that’s an admirable dream - one that I’d like to assist in, too. He’s been a great friend, and I can’t stand to see him be the recipient of so many pejorative remarks. It’s completely unjustified, and you’re absolutely right on that point.

I take that as an admission that you miss me ‘most ardently’ - have you been writing poems about me in my absence?

On that note, you’ll be pleased to know that I have a break on the 8th of July for a couple of days. Want to do something fun? I know you’ve been dying to check out that shooting range, and I’ve been training in the academy for my victory.

All my love, kisses and glorious abs, Roy

P.S. I’ve also enclosed a token of my own affection herein for you - hopefully it reminds you of me whenever you wear it.

~x~

Riza stared confusedly at the oddly-shaped lump that surfaced after she opened the package. After reading his letter she was expecting one of his shirts, maybe one of his button-downs that would’ve been perfect as an oversized sleeping top on her, but she certainly wasn’t expecting his…

Boxers.

His boxers, of all things. She holds it up to scrutinise it in its full glory, and it’s peppered with little puppies - his favorite pair.

To say Riza is surprised is an understatement. She’s not quite sure why he’d sent her his boxers or how she’s supposed to even wear it, but she chucks it aside in the laundry for him to retrieve it when he returns.

July the 8th. The date's circled in bold, bright red on her calendar.

She’d never admit this out loud to any living person, not even her best friend Rebecca. The only person who’d heard her let out an almost-giggle (almost, because Riza Hawkeye did not do giggles) in excitement was Hayate. Because God, did she miss him terribly, and true to his predictions he’d been her muse for quite a number of her recent poetic endeavours.

July 3rd

Dear Roy,

Whatever, you insane idiot. I miss you and I love you too. That is all.

For the record, the kitchen is still intact, and will continue to be so. My cooking skills aren’t that bad.

That’s great to hear. You’re an honorable and intelligent (this is questionable) man, Roy, and I would definitely like to see that kind of change happening. I hope Heathcliff is well, too - send him my regards.

… I refuse to lower myself to drawing smiley faces on my letters, but you’ll see one on July the 8th in person.

And yes, it would be nice to check out that shooting range, though let’s be real - we both know you can’t defeat me no matter how hard you try. I do live up to my namesake, after all.

All my love, Riza

P.S I don’t know if it was intentional, but I never knew you had a thing for me wearing your boxers. Unfortunately, they are way too loose for me and I won’t be wearing them any time soon. Your underwear and I eagerly await your return.

~x~

The 8th of July finally comes around. Everyone in the academy is astonished at just how fast Roy Mustang is capable of running. He might’ve been the golden boy, and he generally outran most, if not all, of them during their training sessions, but now he looked like his pants were on fire as he made a dash for the gate and boarded the first train in a sweaty mess.

Roy continues running like a madman after alighting the train, desperate to reach their home as soon as possible to explain his predicament. He certainly hadn’t intended to send his underwear over, and was sure that one of the other men must have done so as a practical joke on him.

(Fortunately for the culprit, Roy didn’t manage to identify who he was, but there would certainly be hell to pay when he did so.)

As if on cue, Riza opens the door with a beatific smile adorning her features. “I can hear you panting all the way from the other end of Amestris, Roy.”

He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “Well, I’m excited to see you, for starters. And, uh…”

“You want your underwear back?”

“Yes, of course I do.” He pants, struggling to catch his breath while trying to formulate a coherent explanation. “Look, I swear it wasn’t deliberate - I intended to send you one of my shirts, and I definitely don’t have a thing for you wearing my boxers. I don’t know which idiot in the academy substituted my shirt for my underwear to sabotage -” She lets out a laugh. It's loud, unrestrained. Roy thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard in a month. “You really are hopeless, Roy. It’s fine. Defeat me at the shooting range, and you can have it back tonight.”

~x~

In the end, his favorite pair of boxers sits at the bottom of the laundry for the rest of the day, because Riza Hawkeye is an indomitable force of nature at the shooting range.

She does, however, have a poem written for him, and he’s so enraptured by it that he forgets all about the underwear fiasco. “I’m back home, ma chérie,” he whispers as he runs his fingers down the groove of her spine, as if he’s tracing constellations on the canvas of her back while they lay together on satin, hearts thrumming in harmony. “I’d like to keep holding you close, too -” he recites, but he’s quickly interrupted by her.

“You sound best when you don’t speak, Roy,” and with that Riza silences him with a fiery kiss that rouses an overwhelming conflagration in him.

One that can only be put out by her.

Roy grins delightfully into the kiss, all too willing to oblige. Her lips are an inviting chamber of unbridled affection and unsatisfied desire, and he finds himself exploring her eagerly, fingers tracing her sharp cheekbones in reverent adoration.

Riza responds in kind, trailing a hand down his shirt and notes, somewhat gleefully, that he has indeed returned with said glorious abs. She makes a move to untuck his shirt, humming to herself in amusement as she feels his bare stomach quiver beneath her curious palm.

He’s quick to make a comeback, though. Unwilling to be teased by her Roy draws her deeper into the kiss - she’s utterly incredible, he thinks, as he cards his fingers through her flaxen tresses - and he tastes traces of eggs and pastries and -

- and spinach?

“You made spinach quiche?” Roy asks curiously, breaking away from the kiss for the briefest of moments.

“What on earth,” she huffs. “Way to ruin the moment, Roy.” A scarlet blush makes its way to her cheeks - equal parts breathlessness from the vigour with which he kisses her, and embarrassment at being found out.

He laughs, and quotes yet another line teasingly. “Didn’t you say you’ll even listen to my silly moonshine?”

Riza scowls. “I do regret writing that now. Perhaps I will -”

“No, no, please continue writing more,” Roy pleads in earnest, and before she can make a decision he’ll live to regret he kisses her again with such an ardent love, such a fervent passion that it completely derails her train of thought.

The quiche rests in the oven, burnt and forgotten.

~x~

adieu, mon chéri. may you fare well. in my heart, you will always dwell. (won’t you please come home soon, or will it only be after june?)

you write to me, letters (hidden within are flowers) to abate my need for you. i knit scarves in a room candlelit;

holding a heavy weight within from empty spaces on satin. i’d like to hold you close again -- hurry, love, won’t you run to the train?

i’ll let you place your weight on mine oh, i’ll even listen to your silly moonshine (come home to me, darling my soul is aching in longing)

~x~

*moonshine: foolish talk or ideas.

#royaiweek20 #royai #royai fic #royai au #poetry #royai fanfic #rhyme #I tried LOL #my first time writing in first person oops :"D

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rainiedeforest · 4 years

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MDZS headcanons - Madame Lan and Qingheng-jun [PART 2]

To read the other parts:

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

***

When they demanded him that he let go Master Lan's assassin, Qingheng-jun refused, saying that he couldn’t let them put a hand over his wife and the new Madame of the clan. That statement horrified the elders, but they could do absolutely nothing. If he had really married that murderer, she was protected and their rules prevented them from touching her.

Qingheng-jun took her to Cloud Recesses and left her resting in the Jinghsi, unable to look her in the eyes. He was afraid to meet her disappointed and hurt look.

"Sorry, Aiyan. You can sleep peacefully. No one is going to touch or hurt you."

Without adding anything else, he sat down on the outside of the Jinghsi, guarding the enter so that no one could enter to harm her. Aiyan cried all night, choking her sobs against the pillow.

The next morning, the clan's elders insisted on how dangerous she was, claiming that they couldn’t let her roam free at Cloud Recesses. Qingheng-jun was angered, although he was aware of everything that had happened. His brother Qiren spoke to him, trying to make him reason.

"I can't believe you ruined all because of her." "You don't understand, Qiren." "No, I don't get it. You weren't like that. Where's the righteous and good brother I admired?" "It never existed." "Yes, he did. Until you saw her. It's her, right? She's that woman you became infactuated with." "It's not a whim. It's her." "This has to end. End all this madness!" "I can’t." "Are you going to let our master's death go unpunished? I don't recognize you. I don’t recognize you at all." "And what do you want? To lock her up for the rest of her life?"

And Qiren put a little smile and nodded. They couldn't have avoided that marriage, but they could have punished her in some way. The elders would be happy with that decision, even if it hurt to see his brother like that.

"You know this is the best." "If she is locked up, so am I. You will be my heir, Qiren. You will be in charge of guiding the sect into the future." "Xiongzhang, no. I don’t want that." “It’s what you have get with this decision. Congratulations.”

Qingheng-jun ended up locking Aiyan in the Jinghsi, declaring that he himself would enter voluntary seclusion for having married his master's killer.

The first days were horrible. Aiyan was unable to leave Jinghsi, a decision that he learned from Lan Qiren, and she also didn’t see Qinghe-jun, disappearing from her life as if nothing had happened. He had seen her freedom vanish, like everything she wanted to do, suddenly disappear.

However, after a week in which she almost went crazy, at night, she was visited by Qingheng-jun. Although not consciously, but Aiyan herself caught him leaving food in front of the door.

"What are you doing?" "Nothing I do will serve to ask your forgiveness." "That doesn't answer my question." "I can't let you starve." "Your elders would surely be delighted with it. Maybe you should listen to them and-" "Aiyan, no."

Thus began a series of night visits in which, at first, Aiyan, without opening the door, only listened to Qinghe-jun's apologies, questions about how she was and the desire that she will rest for the night. They did nothing else. Aiyang refused to speak to him, in fact, ignored him all the time. And Qingheng-jun would never do anything to annoy her, not after taking away the smile from her face, her happiness, her freedom.

Occasionally, along with the food, there was a book, some sheets of paper to draw, brushes and ink. Other times there were delicate flowers or delicate statues of porcelain that once had belonged to Qingheng-jun. Until one night, almost four months later, Aiyan thanked him and began to deign to answer his questions.

Aiyan was still hurt, but throwing away her friendship with Qingheng-jun, because of a decision made in a moment of anguish, would be a mistake. So she allowed Qingheng-jun to come in and have dinner with her.

They talked until late at night; Qingheng-jun even got to play the guqin for her or paint small landscapes that she asked for. Aiyan, for her part, declared her intention to learn to play xiao, something that had caught her attention since she was little, but that she had never been able to do.

Qingheng-jun gave him a precious xiao in light blue and white tones, so the instrument seems like it was made of ice.

"Liebing" "What?" "Liebing," she said showing him the xiao with a small smile. One of the first that began to appear on the woman's face.

Little by little, and although what happened continued weighing like a great rock, Aiyan gave him the opportunity to get to know her better. She opened up to him and shared secrets that she didn't think she would ever share with anyone again.

"Xiongzhang, the elders claim an heir." "No." "She is your wife." "So, is she my wife now? I thought she was a murderer." "Don't go there. They were planning your engagement to the youngest daughter of the Xing clan. This decision of yours has taken down their plans." "I'm not going to force her to bear my children." "She is your wife. It’s her only duty." "Qiren...” “You know is true and-”, “Qiren, stop it! I said no!"

But the conversation didn’t end there. Qiren had tried to make him reason, in a friendly way, but after his failure, it was the turn of the elders. And they began to harass him even in his voluntary secluded.

"Has something happened?" Aiyan asked one night. "The elders are harassing me." "With what?" "Not even worth repeating." The woman smiled. "Suanqu, we've known each other for years. What's wrong? You know you can tell me anything." "They want us to have a son. I have told them that that would never happen." "It’s normal." "Don't you dare to start too, please." "I’m your wife." "Not voluntarily." "You saved my life. It's only fair." "I don't want anything in return!" "I wouldn't mind giving birth your child."

And Aiyan looked at him so seriously, with the most sincere and sweet smile that he had seen on her only a few occasions since their marriage, that Qingheng-jun felt his heart skip a beat.

"Aiyan... You know how I feel about you, but I can't. I can't condemn you to that." "But..." "If, ever, our relationship grows enough for you to sincerely want to, I will be delighted. But not now. Not when I know you don't want it." "Suanqu..." "Good evening, Aiyan," he said, kissing her on her forehead and leaving the Jinghsi.

Having a child with Aiyan would be a dream come true, but doing it only because the elders ordered it, felt wrong. And they had their brother Qiren. It's not like their family was going to end it. They could take him as their heir. He was still young, he could find a pretty girl who would enchant him with all the children he wanted.

Qingheng-jun's deference to Aiyan's wishes softened her heart, making her more susceptible to the little details the man had with her. She realized that everything had a double meaning. Qingheng-jun was a good-natured man, attentive, caring, and although he expected nothing from her, deep down she knew that his feelings held out hope of being reciprocated.

One night after dinner, Qingheng-jun played the guqin for Aiyan. They were practically glued together, arms brushing, when Aiyan rested her head on Qingheng-jun's shoulder, closing her eyes and enjoying the music. Music that was soon out of tune with Qingheng-jun's nervousness.

"What happens?" "Eh... Nothing..." "Nothing?" "Mn..."

Aiyan looked at him, with an amused smile when he saw the blush on the man's ears, reaching up to touch them. That unexpected act made Qingheng-jun turn his head to look at her. Aiyan leaned down and kissed him at the corner of his mouth, leaving her face close enough in case Qingheng-jun decided to do something. But surprise was still present on his face and Aiyan ended up kissing him again, this time, joining their lips very gently.

"Suanqu ... kiss me." Qingheng-jun kissed her back for what seemed like years, with all the tenderness and love he had within. "It wasn't that terrible, was it?" Aiyan asked amused before he silenced her with another kiss.

After a while, and ignoring the demands of the elders, Aiyan and Qingheng-jun continued to advance their relationship together until Aiyan told him that she was pregnant.

"It is true?" "Yes," she said huddled next to him in bed. "We are going to have a baby. Are you happy?" "And you?" "You can't answer me with another question, Suanqu." "You first. Are you happy?" "Yes." "Me too." "Suanqu, promise me something." "Whatever you want." "That our children don’t suffer the same fate as us. Don’t let anyone decide in their lives." Qingheng-jun looked at her silently. Both knew that this promise couldn’t be fulfilled, since the elders came to have more power than the sect leader himself, but, despite everything, they preferred to continue living in their little bubble and hope that, despite everything, their child was free. "I promise you."

Nine months later, and after a laborious delivery in which Qingheng-jun had come out of retirement to accompany his wife despite the suspicious looks of the elders, the first of their children was born. "My little Huan." "Huan?" "Yes. To dispel the clouds, the doubts about your decisions."

***

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

#Mdzs #Mdzs novel #Mdzs headcanons #The untamed #The untamed headcanons #Qingheng-jun #Madame Lan #Lan Zhan #lan wangji #lan huan #Lan Xichen #Lan Qiren #Headcanons #GusuLan #my writing

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merci-bitch · 5 years

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Her.

Rose The Hat x Fem!Reader

Warning (s): smut, angst, fluff

Words: 2,4K

A/N: This was actually very emotional to write, in the beginning at least. I wrote this for a very good friend @shart-xing. Hope you like it Kat! Despite it being some what semi emotional to write it was actually quite fun. It really was. I took time to explore what I was comfortable with in the process of writing it all. I’m not an expert in writing smut so sorry if it wasn’t completely full on.

“And I want her...I want her” Rose said as she looked up at Crow Daddy. He slowly reached out for her hand before she slapped it away. “I fucking want her” Rose’s face expression was deeply serious. She’s never felt like this before. She’s never wanted anyone like she wanted her.

~~~

I was walking down the street after a day of school. Despite being 23 that didn’t stop me from studying. I didn’t just wanna be some lazy kid that just sat at home and complained about everything. I wanted to become something, not caring if I would make it into anything. I had promised my grandmother before she died I would make something up with music. That’s promise has been with me ever since. 10 years is a long time. I wanted to build my life off of music. Not caring if I became famous or not, just wanted to share the gift I had. The pleasure I found in making music. I didn’t wanna make music for eyes, nor rather for ears. I couldn’t care less about what people would think about me. Sure we all have had our ups and downs but in the end? I’m sure we all get what we want at some point, we just have to work hard for it. As my mother always said, if you wanna enjoy the pleasure, you better do something to earn it.

I had made a few songs. One in particular had gotten recognized. It was called ‘Life’. It was about how our every day is, how we all actually feel deep down inside. How we all are too scared to ask for help. But despite all this, I’ve never felt more alone in the world. Ever since I was a child I had always been told I was special, different then the others. That I didn’t only have the gift in singing but the gift of them shining’. I could read people’s thoughts, make people do stuff by just thinking about it. I’ve been called many names. Some like freak, monster. I’ve never really understood why I had been born this way. All I really wanted was a normal life, without any of this. But I guess we all can’t have a normal life, right?

I sat on a park bench as the sunset was beginning to form. The air slightly cold, not enough to freeze though. It was nice. A nice day in the end of July. A few weeks after my birthday. I hadn’t really celebrated it. It wasn’t really a day that meant anything to me anymore. When I turned 15 my parents abounded me and my big brother. I woke up one day and they were gone. No note, no phone call. No nothing. After it all I began to shut people out. I started balling myself for my parents disappearance. I felt as if it was my fault they left. Me and my brother still have contact despite not seeing him in person for 5 years. Since I lived in New York and he lived in London with his girlfriend it wasn’t really easy to just jump on a plane and meet up. I did miss him. I texted him good morning and goodnight everyday and told him if anything would happen. Like when my song ‘Life’ blew up. He would always say he was proud of me, that mom and that would have been proud too. As much as our grandmother would. We agreed on that the first star that would shine up in the sky was her. That she was watching over us, protecting us from any harm.

“Isn’t it to late for a young stud like you to be out here?” I heard a voice behind me say. I turned around and saw a mystical looking woman starring back at me. She was wearing what looked like a magicians hat. Her eyes looked like they were hiding so much. Like she knew everything that was happening in the world. Her facial reconstructions softened as she saw my tears stained cheeks. She walked around the bench and sat down next to me. “Dry those pretty eyes of you my love” She reaches out for me but I managed to pull away. Feeling awfully uncomfortable around this woman. I felt as if she was reading my every thought. As she knew my whole story by just looking at me.

I stood up and turned to walk away when I felt a grip on my arm. “What a rude way to greet someone. Haven’t mommy and daddy told you to be nice to everyone you meet?” I felt myself tense up. “Oh that’s right. Mommy and daddy left” Her lips forming a wicked smile as she tilted her head to the side. I pulled my arm to myself and took a few steps away from her. “I-you know nothing about me. Stay away from me please” I turned around and started to walk away. Feeling her eyes on me.

(What’s wrong my sweet. Scared of old Rosie?)

I felt myself tense up once again. Her laugh echoed inside my head as I felt her presence next to me once more. “That’s right baby. I’m just like you.” I felt a light sting on the inside of my neck before everything went black.

~~~

I woke up by hearing two people talking behind me. I was lying rather comfortably on what I think was a bed while lying on my side. My head against the wall as my back was against the people who were talking.

“We’ve been over this Rosie. Just because you see someone you like doesn’t mean you can just take them with you everywhere you go!” I heard a manly voice say. “I told you she’s different. She’s steamy, and she’s mine.” That female voice I recognized. The woman at the park. “I fucking want her and now she’s here. Lying right over there. If you ever touch her I swear to god, I will kill you with my bare hands and feed you to the others Crow” Feed you to the others?! What was this? Some kind of cannibalistic cult?! I need to get the fuck out of here, that’s for sure. And why did she keep saying I was hers? I was my own property thank you very much. I heard a door open and close. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep as I heard footsteps coming closer towards me. I soon felt someone lie behind me. That person was placing light kisses on the inside of my neck. “Can’t wait you show you so many things my love. Can’t wait to make you mine.” She turned me around as she grabbed my jaw and placed a kiss on my lips before getting off the bed. I heard the door open and close again. I opened my eyes as touched my lips with my fingers. Wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.

I had been quite some time since this woman had been here. I guessed her name was Rosie since that’s what I’ve heard. Apparently she was living in an RV? A rather big one, and a very homey one to. It looked so much like the pictures you would see on Pinterest or FaceBook. Hell, there was even a bathtub. As I looked at the selections of books lying on the small table next to the bed I heard the door open and close once more. I was meet with that very woman. Her lips forming a big smile. “Well, hi there sleepyhead. Had a good nap?” She moved towards me and stood behind me. Running her hands up my arms, squeezing my shoulders lightly.

“Where-who are you?!” I turned around to face her. She took a piece of my hair and placed it behind my ear. “I would have figured you would have known that by now. I’m Rose, Rose The Hat as my friends call me. You much be Y/N.” I didn’t say anything but just nodded my head. “I did give you a chance though. I tried as much as I could not to go inside that pretty little head of yours” My eyes went wide as she spoke. She let out a chuckle as she took ahold of my hand and lead me towards the bed. Patting the space next to me.

“Where am I actually.” I asked as I sat down. “You’re home, my sweet” I let out a snort. Apparently surprising her. “I don’t even know who you are and you’re calling this my home?” I stood up again as I threw my hands in the air. “Don’t you wanna know what happened to your mommy and daddy?” She asked incidently. I turned around to face her and looked her dead in the eye. The silence making her grin that was planted on her face grow. Did she have anything to do with my parents disappearance? “Oh yes. Of course I did.” She answered as if it were nothing. My first thought was, she killed them. I knew she was reading my mind as she let out various of laughs. I couldn’t help myself but launch at her and grab her throat to choke her while straggling her. I felt my vision being blurred by the tears forming.

“How-how could you! You killed my parents! I-I was 15!” She grabbed my hands that were wrapped around her throat and pulled them away from her. She then embraced me in a tight hug as she started to rock me back and forth. “I didn’t kill your parents. Yes they were steamy despite their age and we were gonna eat them-“ “oh real cute Rose. Real cute” She shushed me up. “But then I saw you. So young and so vulnerable. So much pain and fear after your parents. It hurt me to be honest. I didn’t kill your parents, however I watched as they drow off a cliff” I felt my world shatter. My parents would never do that, they would never just leave me and my brother without a reason. I started fighting against Rose’s grip around me. Started hitting her. Trying to get away, but nothing worked. She was too strong.

After what seemed like ages I finally calmed down. Feeling slightly comfortable in the strangers arms. “Really? You’re gonna call me a stranger?” Rose said as we broke apart, me still sitting on her lap. “Could you stop reading my fucking mind for a moment please?!” I dried my eyes in the sleeves on my shirt. “Only because you said please.” I mouthed thank you. She handed me some tissue to dry my nose. After I was done I threw out the tissue I had used and found Rose looking at me. “What” “You’re extremely cute” Despite not wanting to, I felt my cheeks grow hot. I hit my face in my hands as I rested my head against her shoulder. “Oh no sweetie. Let me see that pretty face of yours” She took ahold of my wrists and made me look up at her again. She rested her forehead against mine. “You’re safe with me Y/N. I’ll never leave you. I promise” Despite only know this woman for maybe 4 hours? I felt safe, not rather said, loved. I raised my pinky finger. “Pinky promise” She smiled as she nodded and raised her pinky finger as well. “Pinky promise.”

~~~

Just as I pasted the doorway into Rose’s RV I was slammed up against the wall. My arms being held up above my head. “What the actual fuck Rose?!” She shut me up with a kiss. The kiss wasn’t just full of love but full of pure lust. Her knee moving in between my thighs, pressing up against my core. She started trailing her kisses down my jaw, down my neck. Letting her hands move down and stopping at my chest. I forced back a moan in the back of my throat. Wasn’t gonna let her have all the joy that easily. I used all the strength and flipped us over, slamming Rose into the wall. I meet her surprised eyes.

“What’s gotten into you? Damn.” She leant forward and bit my jaw. Making me let out a low groan. “I want you...I want you so bad. Let me have you” Rose answered as I felt her hands on my ass. Her hands moving further down as she lifted me up in her arms. Caring me towards the bed and dropping me before getting on top of me, attacking my neck. Trailing sloppy, wet kisses down my neck as her hands moved up to my chest. Squeezing my bra threw my shirt. I let out the first of many moans. I saw her rip open my shirt and trail the kisses further down. My breathing became more shallow and harsher as she continued. Her fingers hooked under my pants and pulled them down, taking my panties with. Leaving me in only a black bra. She threw my pants and panties on the floor as she got in between my legs after spreading them wide. Locking her hands under my thighs as she started placing light feather kisses on the insides of my thighs.

“Rose. God dammit-just please!” I had been begging for god knows how long. She had gotten me so close, so many times. “I don’t know Y/N. Do you really deserve to come?” Her fingers teasing my clit further. “I-yes! I’ll do anything! Just please! I need to come!” She let out a deep laugh as she lowered her head and let her tongue touch my clit. Doing kitten licks, up and down before taking my clit in between her lips and starting to suck. “Fuck! Yes-thank god!”

~~~

Rose was lying next to her. She was hers now, and Rose was going to make sure that it stayed that way too. No way in hell she was letting go of her sweetheart. Not now, not ever

#rose the hat x reader #rose the hat #doctor sleep

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lesbianlibrariansinfrillyhats · 4 years

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Okay so if I don't post something here I'm going to give up in despair. So here's the start of my lightly lewd KoakumaXPatchouli fic, because why not add another onto the pile? Also please Ao3, get back to me. I don't want to burden Tumblr with this. But I also like the idea of writing the early days of Patchouli and Koa.

The Journal of a Sleepy Magician

Day 1:

People get so upset when you mention summoning demons, it’s really tiresome. People forget that demons can be helpful if you know what you’re doing and set proper boundaries with them, especially if you’re a powerful mage. I don’t get the taboo, but I understand the risks involved. It’s just such a bother to try and keep a library clean all by yourself though, and even though Sakuya tells me I don’t have to, I hate having to put books back on shelves. It messes with my workflow. Same thing with having to eat. Sakuya says she can handle that too, but she works hard and I want her to take it easy. So I decided to “hire” some outside help.

The thing every power drunk mage forgets is that you don’t want to summon a major demon. They’re just too much hassle and they’ll break through any bindings you put in place after a while. Plus they always want to make deals and change the original terms of your summoning contract. Minor demons though, most of them are just happy for a break from getting bullied by other demons, I’ve summoned some of the smaller imps to help clean on occasion. But today, today is different, which is why I am making this journal. Today I am going to attempt to bind a minor demon to me, so I can keep the library clean. Also to help with workflow. Also also, to keep Marissa from stealing so many of my tomes.

I feel the journal is required, more for observation purposes than anything. Also in case the worst happens and Remi needs to find out what went wrong. It would be unfair to make my friends clean up my mess, since I’m summoning a demon to prevent that from ever happening again. The demon I have chosen to summon’s name is Koakuma. They’re something of a mystery though, I had assumed I was going to bind an imp to my service, but instead I summoned a...very pretty girl. Her hair is red, and her face is delightfully delicate, her high cheekbones made soft by full rosy cheeks. It’s...heart shaped? Her eyes are a stereotypical red, and he has...4 sets of wings? I think. Two are small and are on either side of her head, and the other two are more natural and are on her back. She also has a tail, which she enthusiastically wags whenever she is happy or excited. It’s quite disarming, which makes me wonder if this might be a part of some ploy to make me underestimate her. I can’t know for sure, especially not after one day of observation. I hope she can make good tea.

Day 2:

I wish there was more to report, but as it stands Koakuma seems to do her job well enough. She’s klutzy and has a tendency to trip while carrying large stacks of books, but apart from that she seems to be the perfect assistant. She’s already taken to calling me Patchy rather than Patchouli, but I don’t mind it that much. It might be overly familiar, but she isn’t saying my full name all the time, which is always a warning sign. Demons can be known to steal someone’s name simply by repeating it enough, often enslaving the person whose name they steal.

Koakuma seems happiest when I praise her for something, which I try to do whenever she accomplishes something difficult like cross-referencing multiple texts for me or when she makes tea. I was hoping she’d make decent tea, and while it’s still not as good as when Sakuya makes it, Koakuma always gets the water temperature just right, which is impressive even for a demon. When I asked her about where she learned how to boil water so efficiently, she just said her “Uncle Asag” taught her. When pressed, she giggles about how “my good natured beauty encourages the water to stay warm enough to boil the leaves without spoiling them” and will not elaborate further. Which makes me suspicious. She is...pretty, and I wonder if that’s not on purpose. Maybe she’s a succubus, but so far the only thing she’s seduced me to do was to take a shower.

She made cute faces and pleaded with me, saying: “It’s no good to sit in your pajamas all day, getting sweaty and smelly! You need to keep clean, Ms. Patchy, oils from your skin might damage the books you love so dearly!”

Appealing to my love of books was the right call, and I wonder how she got that information. It could have been from simple observation, since we talked about books at length while I did light researching. I’ve kept my activities very basic for the time being, until I get a better picture of what this demon is capable of. Which means not being able to indulge in most of my magic activities, but I don’t want to be using anything that might tire me out around a demon I barely know. Her entire demeanor has been very “disarming”, and just putting those words to paper makes me wonder if that’s not her first goal. She seems like a little demon, but that could lead to big problems if not kept in check.

Day 4:

I stayed up for 2 whole days, almost on accident, but mostly on purpose to see how Koakuma would react. She was placidly supportive for the first day, and helped me with a fair amount of astrological research. We spent hours upon hours pouring over star charts looking for the ideal day to cast a cleansing spell on the library. Ko said the place was too stuffy, and I remembered that there were a couple of half-eaten plates of food lost in the mess of the library. Which is becoming clean relatively quickly, thanks almost entirely to Ko. I’ve taken to shortening her name, just so I don’t have to spend so much time saying it, which flusters and upsets her all at once. Which is cute, but also a good sign. When I rile her up, the most she’ll do is hit me with a small stack of paper.

This can mean one of two things: either she is too weak to physically harm even someone as sickly as me, or her long con somehow involves hiding her power level to a ridiculous amount. My “Ko is secretly an Arch-Fiend pretending to be a cute and klutzy demon” theory is slowly disproving itself, which is a welcome relief. I like being proven wrong when it means I can relax, but I plan to keep a healthy air of suspicion for at least another week or so. But bleh, I haven’t written down...words are hard to keep track of. Ko bullied me into bed, but she doesn’t know that I keep my journal next to my bedside. I might try and stay up for 3 days at some point, just to see what she’d do.

Day 5: Ko witnessed an asthma attack today when I went to go and reference one of the older spellbooks Remi owned back in her life before becoming a vampire. I almost want to get mad at Sakuya for not dusting properly, but I did ask her to let me have control of what happens in this library. Ko quickly figured out what was wrong and got my inhaler, but then I was subjected to a lecture about my health. “You have to be more careful, Ms. Patchouli! What if I wasn’t here? You would have choked! We’re going to have to make a project of cleaning up all the dust here. It’s not safe for you otherwise!”

Words I’ve heard before, but never delivered with such urgency and passion. Sakuya always brings it up in a much more measured tone, and Meiling will just sneeze loudly and ask “How d’ya not choke ev’ry time ya open a book?” as is her way. I could brush both of them off with a simple “yeah yeah” and a promise to do better that I’d soon forget; but Ko is tenacious in getting me to take care of myself, which is troublesome. But this “project” of her’s is as good a time as any to practice smaller-scale spells. I’m thinking of casting two spells to help keep the library free of dust, a Fire and Moon spell to try and move the dust and a Water and Metal spell to purify as much of the dust as possible without opening a window and inviting all kinds of pollen in. Ko is at least amenable to the idea, but she balks at the idea of “an ignition source in the library”.

I’m debating telling her how my particular brand of magic works, but she’s a Western demon, and I’m not sure how well she can grasp the principles behind Wu Xing; or if I’m even fine with a demon knowing how I do my magic. Staying up for so long seems to have affected my writing some, I notice I’ve been writing in fragments. I also should try to keep my journal on hand so I can write observations of Ko’s behavior as it happens. I think having time to rationalize her behavior is coloring my opinion. She’s so cute, there has to be something I’m missing. Hopefully reporting on her actions in the moment will disabuse myself of this notion. She’s a demon, demons are dangerous, not cute.

#patchouli knowledge #koakuma #fluff #slow burn

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fairyscribbles · 5 years

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Scabs, Scratches and Fear. (Kai, Showering.)

Seeing his pictures from today made me want to update this! Do you remember thief!jongin? I never forgot him, and I hope you like this! <3

Your heart basically stopped when your college best friend dragged Jongin through the front door, the younger male barely being able to stand on his own.

“He wasn’t able to get out of the car quickly enough, so he got banged up pretty bad…” came Yixing’s explanation when he saw your dumbstruck expression, yet your body knew immediately what to do, as you rushed over to Jongin’s other side, looping his limp arm around your shoulders.

Jongin was able to groan your name in confusion when you gently whispered his, his head tilting your way.

“He doesn’t have anything broken, he’s just really out of it and scratched up.” Yixing assured you once he saw your shaking hands as the two of you led the disoriented burglar to the couch. Once you had him sitting, you immediately cupped at his cheeks, patting them gently. Jongin’s eyes fluttered open, your name slipping from his plump lips when he saw your face.

“I’m here, Jongin-ah…” you murmured softly, thumb swiping at the dried dirt on the side of his face. With a sigh of relief, his head went limp in your hold, and you had to take a shaky breath not to burst into tears. Instead, you turned to look at the other male, concern written all over your features.

“Are you okay, Yixing?” you opted to guide Jongin’s head to your shoulder, as your other, free hand reached over to grab at Yixing’s thigh. He nodded with a smile, squeezing your hand back.

“I’m good. They didn’t get to us…” your sigh was one of relief now, and you turned to look over as much of Jongin as you could in this position.

His arm was completely scraped from the pavement, little bits of gravel caught in his bloodied wounds. His pants were ripped as well, revealing numerous cuts and scratches on his body. You wanted to cry when you saw him in this condition- seeing him being carried through the threshold of the door instead of bounding in excitedly by himself had you tearing up.

The cute, energic man being so broken…

“We…We should clean his wounds…” you murmured to Yixing softly and the older man nodded solemnly, leaving the living room for a moment to get the needed first aid kit.

“Noona…” hearing his voice had you straightening up, hand that was combing through his matted hair freezing for a second.

“Y-yeah, Jonginnnie…I’m here…” you murmured into his hair when he wiggled, whining in slight discomfort.

“Xing brought you home…you’re here, you’re okay…”

“Everything hurts…” you almost cooed at his sad voice, and you helped him sit up, so he was resting his back against your chest, his head still buried in your neck.

“I know, but Xing is coming back with some medicine and we’ll clear the wound out, and it’s going to be all alright, okay?”

"No...no hospital?" even before you had realized the man's fear of these institutions. It wasn't too hard to understand why, having to enter your personal information that would most definitely lead him to being caught. Before his breathing could quicken, your thumbs stroked at the skin under his eyes, humming softly.

"No hospitals, dear. Just me and Xing, okay?" a small crack of a smile appeared on Jongin's face and seeing it made it easier to breathe, even a little bit.

"Don't let...Xing-hyung...kill me..." you chuckled at the dramatic plea the boy had, and in a moment of weakness, you leaned over and pressed a kiss against his forehead.

"Don't worry dear, I won't. I'm the one with the certificate, so I'll do most of the work." Just as you finished speaking, Yixing came through with a small kit in his hands, filled with basic instruments on how to deal with injuries. Noting how Jongin was slowly coming back to his senses, his hyung let out a deep sigh that he was probably holding in himself since he saw the youngster roll out of the speeding car.

"We should probably wash off the dirt first. It's gonna be easier to clean it out when there aren't any pebbles in the wounds." you told both of them and Yixing agreed, hooking the kit around his forearm before reaching for Jongin to help him stand. Unlike last time, he did hold some of the weight on his own, but Jongin's legs were shaking severely, and you knew that without the support of you and Xing he wouldn't make it far before toppling over.

"We'll just sit you down in the bath and wash off the dirt, alright? It's gonna feel pretty awesome, I don't know if you already tried that rainforest setting on the showerhead that Yixing installed last week." you knew that you were rambling, but it seemed to help. You knew that Jongin wasn't too fond of blood and would welcome any distraction that would come his way.

The journey to the bathroom was a short one, and within moments you had Jongin leaning against the sink as gingerly as possible, helping him take off his tattered shirt.

"It was my favorite..." Jongin mumbled with a small pout as he watched it clump wetly on the ground, already beyond saving.

"With what we secured on that last run, you're gonna be able to buy more of them," Yixing reassured him, gingerly rolling down his torn-up jeans, flinching when Jongin hissed as it passed the wounds.

Seeing the young thief in his half-naked glory was the main show of some steamy dreams in the past few days, but seeing him now only made the tears press into your eyes. His golden skin spattered with blood, raw spots and open wounds that had the muscles shaking in distress. At that moment Jongin seemed like a wounded deer just recently saved and yet still distrustful of its saviors. You could recognize it in his eyes immediately.

"It's going to hurt just a little bit, but it's much better than to deal with infection later, Jongin-ah." Yixing seemed to understand the inner turmoil that the thief was going through as well, and Jongin turned to his hyung with a slight pout and furrowed brows.

"I know, I know...I just...should I take...everything...?" it now made sense why he seemed to become more fidgety as he stood in front of you in his boxer shorts, and you instantly felt guilty for your mind going there. Jongin's crush was obvious, and if it wasn't that, his inexperience with women would be the reason number two right after it. Your reddened cheeks matched his own as you scrambled to answer.

"N-no! I mean, you don't have to, but...but I guess it would feel better to do so? And...you know what, I can just step out, and then help dress the wounds, okay?" Before they had a chance to reply, you darted out of the bathroom in search for some shorts that Jongin could wear. Knowing that it's better to first treat to wounds before covering them with fabric as to not irritate the skin, you decided to keep the fluffy sweater on the bed, ready for Jongin when his torso was nice and wrapped up.

A sigh of relief left you as you heard the water running in the bathroom. You were glad- the longer Jongin had to wait, the more pain he would be in. Knocking on the door softly, you made sure to only reach out to the counter to gently place the shorts over there before closing it behind you and returning to Jongin's bedroom.

With him being out all day, the room was stuffy, and he apparently tried to fold his duvet into a modern shape that was closer to being unfolded than made. The sight had you chuckling endearingly and setting out on the task to make sure he would be comfortable to sleep. After bringing over more pillows to surround his body and prevent him from pressing into his wounds more than he should have, you closed the window and grabbed at the first aid kit that Yixing found, getting all the necessary treatment ready to use.

It didn't take long for the shower water to shut off and for the two thieves to shuffle through the door. The warm shower apparently knocked Jongin out even more, because he was standing only thanks to the strong grip Yixing had on his waist, his eyes blinking drowsily and head bobbing slightly here and there. Another fear settled into your mind, and when Jongin sat down on the bed and a blanket was thrown over his shoulders, you crouched down next to him and tapped his knee gently.

"Jonginnie...does your head hurt?" you asked him softly, cupping his cheek to keep his head up and facing you. He shook his head no.

"How about dizzy, do you feel dizzy?" Another groan signaling no passed through his lips, and he smacked at them in discomfort.

"Only sleepy." As if to cement his words, Jongin slumped forward, body limp as if somebody turned the lights off in his head. You caught him with a small yelp before gathering him up in your arms and attempting to slide him further up the bed. Yixing was there to help you, lifting the covers and gently tucking the sleeping thief in for what was to be a deserved rest.

Just as you were about to slip from his grasp, Jongin suddenly tightened his arms around your neck and pressed you into him, making you feel like an overgrown teddy bear. You shared a confused look with Yixing as you tried to escape the tight grip, but it was all to no avail- Jongin voiced his obvious distaste of your escape by a long, deep whine that slid from his lips, and his embrace let you know you weren’t going anywhere.

And to be completely honest, you didn’t want to go. The adrenalin you felt throughout this whole procedure (which felt like it took ages, but if you were realistic it went by in about two hours) made you an exhausted mess and instead of trying to escape, you relaxed in Jongin’s arms. Wrapping your own arm around his waist, you nuzzled into his chest, fingers gently running up and down his back every now and then, to soothe the shudder of exhaustion that came over him.

“Are you okay?” Yixing kept his voice low, in fear of waking Jongin up.

“Yeah, Xing…I’ll keep an eye on him…go ahead and clean up, it’s fine.” You didn’t hear his response, but the soft click of the door closing indicated you were left alone with the younger thief.

You didn’t know what happened to him, but you just thought back on the way he was carried through the threshold, all limp and ragged and bloody, and it pushed tears into your eyes. You almost lost him today. The thought alone had you gripping onto him tighter than ever before, holding him near you and letting the shirt you gingerly slipped onto his form dry your tears. Jongin, even in his sleep, must have felt your distress, because of the little groan that slipped from his lips and how he burrowed closer to you, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

It’s okay, you thought to yourself as you kissed the collarbone that was right in front of you. He’s okay. He’s here, he’s with you, and you’re both alright.

And with that thought, you slipped into a slumber.

#kai #kai story #kai exo #jongin #jongin story #jongin exo #exo #exo story #exo kai #exo jongin

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