#if you boil it just once and dry you will get nauseous. but the book i have didn't state that if you boil them several times over

[featherymainffins]

One thing about me is I don't understand why people say that you should never try even one cigarette because they all got addicted after one. I had the worst fucking nightmare experience with my first cigarette you couldn't pay me to smoke one of these again.

[wordynerdygurl]

Sweetness and Light

Author’s Note:  Hi everyone!  This is the last of my 500 Followers Request stories and I’m so happy to be sharing it with you!  As I was working on it, I saw a challenge from @peterman-spideyparker​ and took on one of the quote prompts, “I am in love with you and I’m terrified.”  It just flowed into this story so well!   Thank you @brokenthelovely for the amazing request!  Enjoy! Summary/ Request:  I’d like to request a Loki fic.  The reader and him have feelings for each other but he won’t make a move because he thinks everyone will be against it and he isn’t good for her.  She starts dating some guy and he tries to let her go but everyone eventually calls him out for letting her go and of course he realizes he was an idiot and then wins her back and they all live smuttily ever after! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Warnings:  Some fluffy smut at the end, a little angsty and Loki being mischievous!

Why did you always have to look so good?  That was the thought crossing Loki's mind as you flitted past, one arm wrapped around Bucky, the other around Natasha.  Laughing, your scarlet lips a daring contrast to the emerald dress caressing you in ways that made Loki jealous of satin.

He was always so aware of you.  Without conscious thought, Loki would, inevitably seek out your soft figure.  Relaxing only once he knew you were in his line of sight.  

His ear, normally attuned to classical music or epic poetry, could pick up your sugarcane sighs across a crowded room.  The lilt of your voice, dropping to a whisper in order to tell a bawdy joke, seemed to float above the hollow ringing guffaws of everyone else.  To Loki you were a songbird, glorious of plumage, spellbinding in sound.

It was a nightmare for the fallen prince.

A being as lovely as you lived in the light.  Sunkissed and radiant, you had this annoying habit of drawing everyone into your orbit.  Even the historically stoic, your Bucky Barnes or Bruce Banners, found their withered roots spreading in the enchanting glow of your attention.

Natasha Romanoff wasn't immune either.  Just yesterday she had smiled at Loki.  A genuine  smile, something he had never experienced before, which set off a chain of events leaving the young God spooked.  

“What?  You're smiling at me… It’s eerie, quite frankly.”  Snarky sarcasm laced each syllable as Loki sipped from his espresso's miniature cup, Natasha's ever watchful eyes on him. “Come on, Loki.  You know…"  Waiting for his response, impatient and searching, she cocked her head.  "He has to know right?  Right?”  Turning to Captain America, his nose in a book, Natasha shook her head in disbelief.  

Searching through the assorted granola bars, desperately looking for a dark chocolate almond wrapper but coming up empty, Loki was only half listening.  "Damn, all out."  Meeting Natasha's glare, "I have to know what, exactly?" "I… I can't.  Not today.  Not with you, Loki"  Spinning on her heel, steaming tea in hand, Natasha left with a wide eyed glance at Steve.

"Not that I truly care, but what exactly is her problem?"  Biting into an overripe pear, juice running over his fingers, Loki spared a look at the doorway before The Captain could answer.

You again.

Coasting into the room, bubbling and bright, whistling to yourself, "Hiya Stevie!  How's the book?  You like it?"

Smiling at you in a way that made Loki's blood boil, Steve sighed, "It's so good.  Like, speaks to my soul, good."

Shooting a wink his way, "I told you!  The part where she goes to the farm?"

"And she sees the truck!"

Scooting into the seat next to Steve, your hand resting on his bicep so casually, "I know!  Oh, it's so good!  Wait until you read the ending!"

Wishing he was sightless, Loki really didn't want to see anymore.  Watching Steve grin at you, your easy connection with the super soldier visible to everyone, turned Loki's stomach sour. The wholesome display of you and the Captain, discussing some novel, made Loki nauseous.

As it was, you were practically perfect, Steve was actually perfect.  Together you were All American, teeth crackling, sweetness.  It was blinding, the beautiful brilliance of the pair of you.  Sunshine and pretty teeth, foreheads nearly pressed together, seemingly lost in a private world.

"Have you ever read it, Loki?"  Your voice changes.  He notices because it's not as warm or friendly as before.  It cools just a bit, freezing your intentions, confusing the hell out of Loki.  

You haven't looked at him once, a thing Loki wishes he didn't notice.  Even now you're focused on the cover of this wonderful book and not the God of Mischief.  Turning to the sink, Loki answers you over his shoulder.

"Drivel, I suspect.  Midgardian garbage.  Melodrama and kitsch… no thank you."  Focusing on washing the pear from his hands, lest he get sticky, Loki's features are unreadable.  His voice though, that oozed disdain.

"I like it… so far."  Steve defended, trying to correct the conversation.

Your mysterious voice went soft, "Well, can't win 'em all I guess.  Thanks for teaching me about your literary tastes now, Loki, rather than after the wedding!"  

He stiffened at your teasing comment.  His back was to you, gripping a paper towel, drying his hands.  Wedded to you?  What a ludicrous thought.

Tossing his towel into the trash, Loki sees you rifling through the snack bin, "Dang!  No dark chocolate almond granola bars?  That's why I come down here!"  Plastering on a pretend pout, you pass behind Loki and suddenly you are that bobbing band of gold again.  "Drink some water, Loki!  It's good for you!  See you later, Steve!"

A hurricane was less destructive.  In a matter of minutes you had blown in and out, leaving Loki in the wreckage of your touchdown.  Even Steve was different after your visit.

"Man.  Natasha is right.  I never noticed it before… but, holy moley."  Chuckling as he returned to the much adored story, Steve looked at Loki over the pages, "You're crazy in love with that girl."

"What?  How dare you!"  Feeling the hot flash of anger flood his face, Loki instinctively went for his daggers, ready to silence the impertinent Avenger in front of him.

Lifting his hands in a sign of surrender, Steve was still laughing, "I take it back.  I take it back.  I won't tell her that you like her."

"I don't know what you're talking about.  Like her.  Like her?  What's to like?"

Steve closed his book and crossed his arms over his chest, "Everything.  Loki, she's just a great person.  And for some reason she likes you.  A lot."

"No.  Not me.  You maybe, but not me."

"Wrong.  It's you, buddy.  And… I think you like her too."

Those words had taken root in Loki's head.  Sprouting branches of thought that he would have never considered possible even hours ago, Loki tested the strengths of Steve's accusation, the validity of his claims.  Could it possibly be true?

Loki denied it.  What a silly idea, really.  To think that some little earthling might tempt the rightful King of Jotunheim, Prince of Asgard, son of Odin and God of Mischief.  Hardly.

And yet… He couldn't help the niggling feeling that there was something about you that deserved his attention.  

Was it in the way you seemed surrounded by music everywhere you went?  Either singing or humming, whistling a tune or blaring your playlist, it was rarely quiet in your presence.  Annoying.  But also, rather charming.

Or perhaps it was your turn of phrase.  "Yes, sir Drill Sergeant!" was a favorite whenever someone asked for your help.  "Put some pep in your step, a little glide in your stride, a little dip in your hip!"  With quips and quotes for all occasions, it seemed to Loki that you had a ready answer for everything.  No situation ever caught you off guard.  You were funny, unflappable and light.

Then there was your physical form.  Curvy.  Soft.  Deliciously feminine and daringly female.  

You wore short skirts with canvas tennis shoes.  Vintage band t-shirts with wide legged trousers and suit jackets.  You rolled up your jeans and sloughed around in ancient wooly cardigans.

Patterns got crossed, like plaids with polka dots.  Colors collided.  But you always pulled it off, an avant garde runway model for a post-modern haute couture design house.  

In short, you were the essence of cool.  Effortless.  Easy.  

"Oh gods… I do.  I like her."

It was that thought that kept Loki awake all night.  When sleep tried to claim him after an hours long workout with Thor, your voice pulled him back to wakefulness, the message relayed through the compounds AI.  "Hi everyone!  Don't forget!  Tonight is the annual scholarship fundraiser hosted by our favorite philanthropist, Tony Stark.  Tuxedos and gowns kiddos!  See you there!"  Even recorded you sound chipper and cheerful.  It delighted and disgusted Loki in equal measure.

At the fundraiser, tucking himself into a shadowed corner, Loki pretended not to watch you and your emerald gown.  Nursing a cocktail, chatting only when absolutely necessary, his plan was to forget his wayward thoughts and yesterday's conversation with Steve.  If you kept away, he might get through the night.

An hour in and Loki's restless with need.  What he wants to do is march over to you, take you in his arms and press that pliant body of yours to his.  Feel your crimson lips, taste your singing mouth and discover if it's as warm as he imagines.  

His tumbler hits the bar with a heavy thunk.  Running his hands through his dark hair, tightening the knot of his tie, Loki exhales once.  With renewed purpose, crossing the floor, he’s stalking towards you.  Nothing will distract him now.  He is a man of action going after the thing he wants most.  You.

Just a few steps more, Loki thinks.  Your profile is illuminated in the dim lights of the hall.  You're laughing.  You are always laughing, it seems.

Watching as you swing your head his way, Loki's certain that you've spotted him and his intentions.  Wanda taps your shoulder, directing your focus back to her as she points into the crowd, giggling in your ear.  A man, broad and strong, strides into your circle.

Loki's step falters as his excellent hearing picks up your joyful squeal of delight.  This person, this interloper, puts his hands around your waist.  Swinging you into a possessive bear hug, kissing you at the same time, he makes a show of literally sweeping you off your feet in front of everyone at Tony’s gala.  

You’re a blur, the motion of it making Loki dizzy.  He is also frozen in place.  Questions buzz like angry bees at the familiar way this person is handling you.  It's not right.  It's not proper.  And it's all because those are not Loki’s hands on you.

"Loki!  Hi!  I want you to meet my boyfriend Marcus!  Marc, this is Loki!"  

A beefy hand extends your way, attached to an equally beefy person, with an overeager smile.  "Loki!  I've heard so much about you.  You're good with knives, right?  Maybe we can train together sometime?"

Loki, noticing how Marc's hand rested possessively on the swell of your hip, thinks, Yes.  I would love to throw daggers at you, Marc.  Instead, with a charming chuckle Loki answers, "Well, our girl is too kind.  It was nice to meet you, Matt."

"It… it's Marc."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!  Marc.  Right.  Apologies!  Please, enjoy your evening!"  Plastering his smile on permanently, pride stinging, Loki slunk away to nurse his wounds in the solace of his room. 

You were with Marc now.  He was too late.  And there was no good excuse beyond pride for Loki's inability to see the plain truth.  You were pretty wonderful, something Loki had always known, deep down.  Now, you were someone else's.

In truth, it took Loki two days to square with the fact that you were with a lesser man.  You were beautiful and clever and a constant delight, but you were with Marc.  There was no changing that fact, right?

Wrong.  The reason Loki didn't surface during waking hours for the next week was because he had a plan.  He would win you, do the work, make you realize that you belonged with him. 

Yet, each plan failed in one way or another.  

When Loki accidentally on purpose cancelled your dinner plans at a trendy new hot spot, Tony had called in a favor.  You and Marcus had dined in the private wine cellar, met the chef, and walked back into the compound holding hands.  Loki stormed away before you could tell him all about your wonderful night. Overhearing Marcus brag about a weekend away, bathing suits and a boat, Loki asked Thor for help.  “It’s the weather.  You see, I need it to rain.  I need thunder and lightning.  And all those wonderful things that you control.” “Brother, I am the God of Thunder, not the God of Weather.” “Can you please, just… do this one thing for me?  Please?” Whether it was Loki‘s manic sincerity or his desperation that convinced Thor, Loki would never know.  What he did know was that your seaside sailing excursion had been cancelled due to unprecedented storms.  However, Wanda had helped Marcus with booking a hotel room for two nights instead.  You had a couples’ massage and drank champagne.  Loki sulked. Feeling like a cartoon coyote, Loki knew the surrender was near.  Always pragmatic, and resourceful, he had realized that as much as he might want to woo you, it was possible that you did not want to be wooed.  At least, not by Loki.   So, the handsome prince, with a gloomy face, once again strayed from the others.  Not content to make small talk when his heart knew such hurt, Loki slept during the day and moped around at night.  He avoided everyone as much as possible.  When interaction was inevitable, it was brief and direct.  Loki had no energy for games.  He was played out. He was also hungry. Which is how he found himself in the kitchen at 3:00 am, spooning cherry jell-o into his face, thinking about you.  He was so wrapped up in the idea of you that he could swear your voice was playing in his head.

“But, I don’t understand.  Marc?  That… that’s not fair.  I told you.  I told you how the job was… what I had to do… how it might be hard sometimes… But I thought?  Oh.  Oh…”  

Pausing, Loki realized that you weren’t an illusion.  You were at the compound, and tonight you weren’t laughing.  In fact, Loki was fairly certain that he heard a sniff, something that you did when you were crying.  He remembered hearing it when the gang watched Old Yeller.  You had sobbed over the fictional pup.  It was adorable then, now, not so much. “Well… if that’s what you really think… Wow.  Ok, Marcus.  You made your point. Goodbye, I guess.”  Loki had heard you cry before.  Over the old yellow dog in that movie, because of a missing classified document and once due to Clint's awful singing.  Tonight though, there was silence.  Expecting to hear your sobs, Loki, surprised by the quiet, risked a peek around the corner to check on you. Probably, because you thought you were entirely alone at the inhumane hour of three in the morning, you let yourself sink down to the floor.  Bathed in the blue light of the Avengers “A”, resting your head against the textured wall with your phone still cradled in your palm, one fat tear rolled down your cheek.

Later on, Loki would tell you that everything that followed was because of that tear.  Something about that shiny track of sadness had hit the jokester right in his heart, watering the shriveled seed of his love for you.  It made him want to hold you, to keep the hurts of life away, protect you from the kind of sadness that had forced your happiness into hiding. Unhappy didn't do your current mental state justice.  More silent tears joined the first.  Another failed relationship, and if you were honest the water works weren't for Marcus.  They were for you.  

He was a handsome distraction, for sure.  And his reasons for dumping you?  Valid.  True.  

Canceled dates, long nights at work, the constantly ringing phone.  All things that you found more important than Marcus.  He was absolutely correct when laying the blame for this failure at your feet.  You did not want your partnership with Marcus to thrive, survive.  You had been killing time with him and that wasn't fair.

Not when there was someone else on your mind all the time.  

Marcus had been a paltry replacement for the man you really wanted.  Even though you had tried to deny it, fight against it, every time he touched you, you ached for the nimble fingers of a demigod.  Each kiss from Marc made you hungry for the flavor of Loki's mouth.  You hated yourself for it but stopping those thoughts had proven too difficult to manage.  In response, avoiding your boyfriend had become an easy habit to cultivate.

Which was worse, you sat on the floor wondering.  Having the wrong man or having no man?  Lusting after one while leading on the other?  Being desired by Marcus but faking your interest in him?  Wanting Loki but not being wanted by him in return?

You closed your eyes, breathing deeply, mad at yourself.  There was no way to know Loki was watching you fall apart from the safety of the kitchenette.  Awash in self anger, almost alone, you struggled to pull yourself together.

Instead of second guessing himself, taking a deep breath, Loki swiftly rounded the corner and slipped down next to you.  His bony knee brushed against your own, "Some might give you a penny for your thoughts… but I'm afraid I only have a dark chocolate almond bar."  "Loki…"  Sighing with a small chuckle, barely surprised at his presence, you grabbed the offered snack, "My thoughts aren't worth this much."

"That's where you are wrong, dove.  I would pay this and more to have a better understanding of you."

Snorting derisively, "Really?  Most days you can barely be civil to me."

Loki's fierce gaze locked on your watery one, "Yes… well.  For that, I apologize.  You… You are a very nice person.  I, unfortunately, am not."

Swiping at your wet cheeks, smiling, "You are too!  Or, you can be… if you want to be."

"No, I leave chivalry to my brother.  Kindness to Captain Rogers… Sweetness to, well, you."

Turning toward him, your leg folded under you, "You're here now, and with my favorite snack, no less!  That's pretty nice, Loki."

Shyly smiling, "About that… I know you like them.  I keep a small stash in my room, in case Stark runs out."

"What?  Really?"  It's hard to believe that Loki would be so secretly thoughtful.  Playing with the wrapper in your hand, you raised a glance to the studious prince beside you, "That's… that maybe the sweetest thing anyone has done for me."

"I doubt that.  I'm sure your friend, Marcus, has done kind things for you."  Just saying the name made Loki's heart leap, worried that it might spook you.  Or, and this was worse, that you'd defend him because Marcus was the one you wanted.

"Don't play coy, Loki.  You know he just dumped me.  It's over… it's been over almost since it began."  Resting your warm hand on Loki's arm, the zing of your touch scorching his cool skin, distracted and disoriented him for a moment.

Whispering, almost timid with wanting to know, "Did you love him?  Do you?"

Slumping forward, your shaggy hair covering your face, "Nope.  Not even a little bit."

"Really?"  Loki fought against the swelling of glee that surged through him at your admission.

Snapping your head up, searching his face, "You sound surprised.  You shouldn't be… See, Loki,  I'm not as nice as you think I am."

"Oh yes you are… even now you feel bad about all this.  You wish you could have loved Marcus, eased his hurt, regardless of your own unhappiness. "  

Shaking your head gently, shrugging, "It would be easier, I think.  Less painful.  And I wouldn't be alone… again."

Loki betrayed nothing in his voice, but his mind was in a tailspin.  In a husky hum, he asked you, "Is that all you want, dove?  Not to be alone?"

Flashing your floormate a small smile, it faltered when you realized just how close you and Loki were.  He hadn't moved.  You had.  Near enough that you felt his body's heat melt into yours.  

"No… but it's a good start, don't you think?"

Instinctively, Loki reached out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.  "I think I am in love with you and I'm terrified."  

Hanging in the air between you, Loki's words, uttered so casually, expanded to fill the following silence.  Raising his hope filled eyes to yours, Loki offered a half smile, "Come on dove, if I have even half a chance, then for Odin's sake, tell me."

First your body went cold, shocked at Loki's revelation.  Next, a flush of heat rolled over you, flaming your cheeks.  It settled into your lower belly as a throbbing ache, an unscratched itch, needy and raw.

Murmuring, stunned, "You like me?"

Tossing his dark hair, "No… no, little one.  I love you.  And I am truly scared that you don’t feel the same way."  Loki shifted, mirroring your posture, your folded knees grazing against each other.  Leaning into your space, Loki's hands cupped your face.  Brushing his lips across your forehead, he kissed down the bridge of your nose and over your heated cheeks.  

His thumbs stroked along your jaw, tilting your chin up, as your lips parted.  Wasting no time, Loki pressed his firm mouth to yours, kissing you sweetly.  You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, drawing you deeper into Loki's arms, his tongue licking into your warm mouth.

Happily swallowing your sweet sigh, Loki's lips asked for more of you and you obliged.  Your hands gripped his shoulders, enjoying the firm muscled man beneath your hands, savoring the taste of Loki's tongue.  He pulled away first, groaning, "I have wanted to do that for a long time."

"Me too."

Picking up your hand, threading his digits through yours, "But… my leg is falling asleep sitting here on the floor."

Laughing out loud, "Me too!"  You moved to stand, but Loki tugged you back down again.

"Before we go… I wanted to ask you out for a proper date.  Dinner, a movie… dancing, drinks… whatever.  You name it!  I want to do this right, you see."

Nodding, you bit into your bottom lip, "I will let you wine and dine me, Loki.  I promise.  But… if I'm honest with you, I have been thinking about kissing you for months now… and I don't want to stop."

Loki stood taking you with him.  Once you were on your feet, your tall god wrapped his arm around your waist, snuggling you into his chest.  "I was afraid I had missed my chance.  That someone else had taken your heart."

"It's always been yours, Loki.  I’m in love with you too."

Your body melded to his.  Those lips were on your neck, making you gasp in rapture, as Loki's hands cupped your bottom.  Draping your arms over his broad shoulders, feeling the tensing muscles underneath the fabric of his dark tee, had you panting.

"Gods, you are incredible!"  

Like a purring cat, you rubbed your cheek into Loki's chest, "I could say the same about you."

Swallowing hard, still keeping you close, Loki studied your expression.  "Come on, dove.  Let's go."

Confusion crowded your features, "Go where?"

"I'm taking you to bed!"  Loki scooped you up, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back, as if you were a distressed damsel.  Squealing his name, you threw your head back, happy in Loki's capable hands.

In his apartment, naked on Loki's bed, you let his mouth devour you.  Starting with your full, round breasts, Loki licked and sucked your nipples under they were painfully taut.  Then his fingers found your peaks, pulling and tugging, until you were mewling for more.

Loki's tongue traced a line down the center of your body.  When he reached your glistening core, Loki used his thumbs to part your lower lips, blowing gently over your aroused flesh.  "Stop wiggling, dove!"

"But Loki!  I need you!"  As the words left your mouth, Loki's tongue licked through your silky skin, circling your clustered nerves.  You cried out when he sucked the sensitive nub between his lips while still licking against your sex.

With shaking thighs, your body released hard while Loki drank down your nectar.  Kissing back up your body, you tasted yourself when his mouth met yours, your tongues colliding.  Reaching down between your bodies, your fingers found Loki's significant size and you smiled wickedly.

"Easy kitten!"

"Oh no, I want you, Loki.  Hard and fast.  Please?"  When he tipped his head, agreeing, you gave his length a gentle squeeze.  Loki rested his forehead to yours as your lovely little hand directed him to your velvet core.

Once there, Loki's mouth found yours, tenderly kissing you as he gently burrowed into your slick satin skin.  Taking more and more of you, claiming your body with his deep thrusts, Loki's hips rocked into you.  Each plunge pushed you closer to completion.  

Your walls tightening, gripping Loki, had him moaning your name.  "I'm close, dove… so close."  

"Me too, Loki!"

His clever fingers dropped to your cleft, rubbing your engorged button, as Loki drove into you once more.  In a flash of supreme pleasure your bliss roared through you, stealing Loki's climax at the same time, as you clung to your man.  Shivering from the intensity of your passion, you refused to let Loki go, keeping your arms firmly around him as your body moved mindlessly in delight.

Loki kissed away the happy tears that spotted your cheeks.  Brushing the hair back from your face, he whispered tender words like "love" and "beautiful" and "darling girl" until slowly your tense muscles relaxed.  Loki gently withdrew from you, rolling you to your side to face him, wrapping a protective arm over you.

Satisfied beyond reason, you looked at your raven haired lover, eyes heavy.  "You should sleep, dove." "Hmm… yes.  But you'll stay with me, right, Loki?"

"Of course.  You're my sweet girl."

Scrunching into his side, snuggling under his quilt, you smiled.  “That’s me!"

The next morning Loki stirred some sugar into his tiny espresso cup, a secret smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  Steve sat at the counter, a newspaper spread out in front of him, mug of coffee nearby.  From down the hall, your whistling reaches the room before you do.

"Hiya Stevie!  Any good news in there today?"

Tearing himself away, "Not that I've seen.  How are you?  You seem… happy.  Happier than usual."

You lock eyes with Loki, grinning from ear to ear, "I am.  Things are good… great even."

Hopping up on the island, looking through the bin of snack bars, Loki steps between your knees.  "Looking for this?"  

"Yes!  My favorite treat!  And my favorite you!"  Throwing your arms around his neck, you draw Loki into a deep kiss, his hands running up your sides.

Understanding lit up Steve’s face, "Whoa!  Wait!  Is this real?  Did it finally happen?"    

"Yup!  So, uh… tell Tony we're taking the morning off, ok?"

"Actually, Steve, please tell Stark that we are taking the rest of the day off.  Don't call.  My sweet girl and I will be too busy to answer."  With that Loki grabbed you by the hips, wrapping your legs around him as he marched you out of the room.

Sweetness and Light, that’s what you were and that’s just what Loki needed.   ----

Tags:  @brokenthelovely​ @iamverity​ @just-random-obsessions​ @jamielea81​ @archy3001​ @jessiejunebug​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @mizfit2​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @lots-of-loki​

[vino-and-doggos]

Descendants

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

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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.

[writingsbychlo]

hey! who out of dylan’s characters do u think is the best at looking after you when you’re sick? (i’m sick rn and it sucks ☹️)

PLEASE EXCUSE ERRORS AND SPELLING MISTAKES AND SHIT I WROTE THIS ON MY PHONE okay thanks

honestly, I’m gonna have to go ahead and say Stiles. I think he’d be like immediately jumping into overprotective mode. Even cuter if you aren’t together yet.

On Monday, he could tell something was off because you were a little bit sniffly, but you said it was just random congestion and you felt fine. At lunch, he saw you sneakily take two painkillers for a headache you had told Malia you got during maths, but blamed the equations, you weren’t sick.

On Tuesday, he’d watched you park up beside his jeep, not knowing he was still in it. Your parking was haphazard and barely within the lines, and you were rubbing at your temples already, eyes closed as you leaned back in your seat. When you got out, you were clutching s flask of honey tea, which you insisted was just because you were craving it, but he knew better. Nobody craves honey tea, you only drink it when you’re sick.

By Wednesday, he was prepared, and you were not. He’d offered to pick you up that morning, justba friendly gesture because he was ‘going past’ despite living no where near you, and you’d accepted. The minute he saw you step out of your door he knew he was right. Your nose was red and your eyes puffy, a pouted frown on your lips as your eyebrows furrowed. Stepping into the jeep, you were immediately presented with a piping hot flask of tea, and two large blue flu tablets. A couple of packets of tissues sat on the dashboard and he had a cute smile on his face as you accepted all of them without argument. He got you ice cream to soothe your throat at lunch, even giving you his portion too, take really make sure you felt better. He spent the day making sure you took two flu pills every our hours, even bringing you home and making you soup, before staying with you until your parents got home.

On Thursday your fever had kicked in, it started late Wednesday night, and you hasn’t slept at all. Bags hung heavily under your eyes, you were hungry but also nauseous, not wanting to eat anything and you were freezing cold and boiling hot all at once. Stiles’ eyes visibly widened when he saw you leave your house, insisting on picking you up again. You were cold once again as he peeled away from the curb, you were shivering in the seat beside him and rubbing at your arms, and he wished now that he’d bothered to get the heating fixed last week when the jeep was in for repairs, making a mental note to do that, but you hadn’t complained once, he was already doing so much for you.

Reaching around in his back seat, he produced a blue hoodie, big even on him so definitely huge on you, and dropped it in your lap with a smile. You played with the material between your fingers, his eyes flicking between the road and you as you picked up the item, his heart skipping. You sighed, is eyebrows furrowing as you did and he wondered if he’d crossed a line. “I’ll be too hot if I wear it all, and too cold if I don’t wear it at all!” the words were practically cried out and he felt like his heart was cracking at the sad little whimpers you were making. You Luther forwards, checking your surroundings out of the window before unstrapping your seatbelt and mumbling a quick ‘fuck it’. Peeling your jacket of your shoulders, you threw it into the backseat, and your top soon followed. Sitting in just your bra in his front seat, Stiles fought everything within himself to keep his eyes on the damn road and not crash you both into something. You pulled the hoodie over your head and immediately let out a happy sigh as the material swamped you. “Oh my god, this is perfect.” Your clothes lay discarded on the leather as you snuggled into his jumper, and he couldn’t help the proud grin he wore at seeing you so content in his clothes.

You were exhausted, you had barely scraped it through first and second period, and third was a complete blur. As you stumbled into coaches classroom, you dropped into your seat beside Stiles, who looked at you pitifully and pulled out your next set of tablets to be taken, watching to make sure you did. As soon as the lights flicked off and the film began, your eyes were finally closing, you couldn’t help it. Shuffling closer to Stiles, he practically jumped in shock when your head landed on his shoulder, your face burying on his neck and you nuzzled into him, your fingers lacing through his hand, the one closest to you and pulling it into your chest, clutching it tightly between both of yours. Your chairs were right up against one another, your body curled into his as sleep finally took you, and Stiles’ heart was beating out of his chest.

You didn’t even wake up when the lights were turned back on, or when coach started asking questions, before his eyes finally landed on Stiles awkwardly taking notes as you clung to him. “Stilinski! Is she ASLEEP in my class?”

“Honestly, coach, she’s really sick and this is the first sleep she’s got in like two days, I think. I’m honestly afraid to see what would happen if you woke her up now.” His face would be priceless, and a look of horror practically flicked across his face when you stirred in your sleep slightly. To everyone’s amusement (and relief) coach left it at that, going back to teaching economics in a moderately quieter voice than anyone was used to. The classroom was empty when you woke up, and Stiles’ fingers were combing through your hair, your cheek still on his shoulder, his other hand still held tightly in yours. “Oh my God, did I fall asleep? What time is it?”

“It’s about ten minutes into lunch break.”

“Why didn’t you wake me? You must be hungry! You had practice today too!” You were so worried for him, your head shooting up from his neck and red on the side you’d been leaning on, and he couldn’t help but hold your cheek in his hand, rubbing over the heated skin with his thumb.

“You were finally asleep, it was worth waiting for. Besides; we’re going to get food on the way home, anyway. You haven’t eaten since I made you soup and you need curly fries. Curly fries make everything better.” He sent you a little wink before standing, and offering you his hand. You fell asleep on him again at lunch, and he held you then too, enjoying this chance to be close with you as the pack watched on with knowing eyes, before taking you home and bringing you curly fries as promised.

On Friday, you emerged from your house wearing the same hoodie as yesterday, the smell of fresh soap powder and your perfume clinging to its fabrics and Stiles thought his heart might actually burst out of his chest with joy. You were tucking into a piece of toast as you left the house and he was happy to see you actually eating now. He didn’t realise your coughing phase had started until he got to school, you were halfway out of the jeep when a violent series of coughs took you, and you braved yourself on the side of the vehicle, clutching at your chest. He was by your side on seconds, eyes wide as he waited for you to stop. He carried your bag and books all day, dropping you off at class even if he was in a different one, before picking you up from said class too, just so you didn���t have to carry anything that might put more strain on your chest.

Your lungs, throat and back were sore. They aches like crazy by lunch and you didn’t want to eat anything. Your mood was at a zero, but when you saw Stiles chatting to Scott, you beelined towards him, mumbling a quick hello to everyone else before curling yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his front, catching him off guard. Lydia was smirking, Kira cooing as your body shook with coughs you were suppressing, a groan leaving your lips when she asked you if you were okay. You didn’t lift your head from Stiles’ chest, simply mumbling how much everything hurt, and that you couldn’t wait for the weekend. A large palm settled on your waist, the other at the top of your back, rubbing gentle circles into your covered skin and a something between a happy sigh and a moan left your lips as he did, soothing the ache there more and more with each second.

Your fingers were bunched up in the material of his flannel, pulling him as close to yourself as you possibly could, relishing in the smell of him and the warmth he gave off. When you finally tore yourself away from him, he offered you hot honey tea he’d had a fight with the lunch lady to be able to make, with two more tablets and a scoop of ice cream. When dropping you home that night, he’d carried everything to your door for you.

“You wanna’ come in? My parents aren’t going to be home until late tonight.” He had so much homework to do, but looking at you standing in your doorway, nervously asking for help and playing with the strings on his hoodie, you rapidly threw any other commitment out of the window. He sent his dad a quick text before making you both some food, and letting you take a shower while he tinkered about with the things in your room, never having been in there before. When you finally emerged in your pyjamas, hair wet, all you wanted was sleep, your muscles aching and sore, but Stiles refused to let you sleep with wet hair as it would only make it worse. So, reluctantly, you say at your dresser and plugged in a hair dryer, brushing through the wet locks. You were surprised, when Stiles picked up the instrument instead, flicking it on and letting the wjat wash over your scalp, fingers easing into your hair and running through them as he dried it for you, and your body slumped forwards in joy at not having to hold it up, the weight too much.

He didn’t complain, he didn’t say anything, just gently drying your hair as you grew sleepier and sleepier, drowsiness of the tablets and the success coming to claim you. You were practically unconscious at your desk, and Stiles had lifted you to your bed, tucking you in tightly, when you refused to let go.

“You need to sleep. You’re to tired.” He pushed some hair out of your face, pressing a kiss to the burning skin of your forehead, and you let your grapes slide down until you wove your fingers with his.

“Please stay. Y’ make me feel b’tter.” He only nodded, swallowing thickly and not actually trusting his choked up self to speak as he sat at top the covers, and you curled into him beneath them. His fingers found your hair, and for a few minutes it was quiet, until you spoke up. “Why y’ lookin’ after me so well?” His finger sun your hair froze, and he shrugged lightly, pressing a kiss to your temple and you seemed to accept the lack of answer, finally drifting into sleep.

When he was sure you were out cold, he untangled himself from your grasp, your face buring into the pillow he’d been leaning on and he placed the packet of pills on the bedside table, fetching a glass of water and writing you a quick note to tell you when to take them. Crouching down, his finger ran along your nose lightly, a soft smile on his lips and he knew you wouldn’t mind because you wouldn’t remember any of this, you were fast asleep. “I take care of you because I’m so head over heels in love with you, that it hurts me to see you like this.” He kisses your cheek, finally leaving a locking the door behind him.

He didn’t see you all weekend, but he text you consistently to make sure you were taking your meds and getting better. You didn’t go to school on Monday or Tuesday either, opting to stay home and get better. Stiles was a jittery mess, he needed to know how you were doing, and not seeing you was killing him.

It was halfway through the day on Wednesday, when he finally saw you. Your free period matched up with when he had lacrosse practice, and he hadn’t expected to see you today.

You looked much better, you were wearing one of his favourite skirts, makeup done and hair styled, surely Lydia’s doing because you were sending him through a fucking loop with how pretty you looked for your return, there wasn’t a trace of sickness on you anymore. Your cheeks had colour again and you were full of life, cheering him on excitedly.

It was a busy practice, one that ran over into lunch break and by the time he was done showering and changing, you were gone with the girls. When he eventually stumbled his way into the canteen, you were chatting away with everyone, full of life and enthusiasm, before your eyes met his.

You stood from the table, meeting him halfway to the lunch queue as he fell into step beside you, a large smile on his face as he looked over you. “You’re better! You look great, and-” You cut him off, your hand cupping his cheek as you rocked up onto your tiptoes, lips pressing to his. He let out a surprised squeak, his hands holding your waist, lips moving together softly, yours confident as his timid, before you pulled away.

“I hear they have curly fries, today.” You teased, dropping back down to stand properly as his eyes finally opened.

“What was that for?” He asked, finally looking at you as his hand slid up, large palms closing over your cheeks as he held your gaze in his, a cheeky smile pulling at your lips.

“Because I’m head over heels in love with you, too. And I appreciate you looking after me.” You confided, and Stiles honestly thought he might cry.

He sniffed, a light laugh leaving his lips as his eyes closed, and he nodded, leaning in until his nose was brushing against yours. “I’ll always look after you.” And with that, his lips sealed over yours again, more confidently this time as he dipped down to you, your hands on his chest, pulling him closer until he was pressed up against you, your smiles causing the kiss to break. “I love you.”

“I know.” You teased, his eyes widening as you broke apart, stepping further up the queue and placing both of your food on his tray, his fingers finding yours and you held onto him tightly. “Did you just use a Star Wars quote against me?”

“You love me for it.” You grinned and he groaned, shoving a curly fry into your mouth and joking pushing your face away from him. “Shush, you.”

“Even if it’s to say ‘I love you’?”

“No, that you’re allowed to say. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.” He confessed, placing a quick peck to your lips before paying for ther food, his hand leaving yours to carry the tray of food for your both.

“I love you.” Your words reached his ear in a quiet whisper just for him, voice full of love and his cheeks heated up at the confession but a smirk pulled at his lips as he turned to you.

“I know.”

[bowieandqueen11]

could you do hcs or an imagine (it doesn’t matter to me, whatever suites you 😌) about arguing and then making up with ziggy please?

More angst my poor bean!! XD Thanks for the request love, hope you’re doing well!

You stood on the cold stone, your toes tapping against the cracked bricks of the doorway as your body leaned forward against your will, the last wisps of the cold breeze from the starless night blowing in through the closing door. Biting your lip gently in anger and confusion, you try to block out the sound of glasses clinking together, people nattering and jeering with each other, trying to gaze past the crowd of celebrities, your gaze falling empty upon names such as Ringo Starr and Lou Reed as your eyes searched desperately for David in the Cafe Royal. Finally spotting his vibrant red hair in the corner, a beer in his hand and his mouth open in a wide toothy laugh as he leans in closer to Mick Jagger, talking in hushed whispers, you feel a rush of heat rise up your stomach, your blood boiling with anger as your fists clench, your nails digging into your palm and drawing slight traces of blood.

David had promised, promised, after his final show a few nights ago, wrapping his arm around your shoulder in the dressing room as the sweat pressed his ginger locks against his forehead in a star like gleam, still so beautiful and otherworldly but yet still so human, that he would spend more time with you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, his lips chapped and lacklustre with tiredness, his bracelets jangling against your hip as he swore to you he would make up all the lost time Ziggy and his fans had taken away from you tonight. Having known him since he was young, just a skinny lad with feathery long hair and a slightly quiet disposition, you wanted desperately to believe him, believe that young boy with the big heart was still within him.

Leaning your hand against the cream chipped doorway, the smell of booze and the loud natter making you feel lightheaded and quite nauseous, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that focusing on the real David would lower your rising blood levels. You reminisced about entering the cafeteria of your new school, your palms sweaty as they gripped the edges of your black lunch tray, your milk nearly sploshing out of its cup in fat, wet droplets. Your eyes flickering around, nervously trying to gauge who to befriend out of a sea of unfamiliar faces, your head turns almost against your will, almost as if being drawn by an unknowable force to David. There he sat, an apple placed against his lips and a sci-fi book being held gently against the table by his slender fingers, a look of wonder and intrigue on his face whilst he scanned the words, despite being one of the only people sitting at the table. Despite his quite plain and indistinctive white button up shirt and slinky black tie, you knew at once there was something incredibly special about this boy, your hands beginning to tremble even more as an almost ethereal glow seemed to emit from him. Before you knew it you had reached his side, gazing down at him with wide, scared eyes as he paused slowly, turning to gaze up at you with mild amusement and surprise, before his face lit up in a wide cheeky grin, his heart thumping in his chest.

What you didn’t realise, however, was that David had the same instinctive reaction that day. As you sat down before him, smiling shyly behind half-lidded eyes, his chest ached and blood rushed to his cheeks as he gazed at your sparkling eyes and the soft divine features of your face, feeling a soft tickling in his stomach he would later realise was the beginning of love. Since that day, you two had been inseparable, you helping David write his songs, release his singles, helping him up during the bad days when he doubted himself, and trying to get him through the times when he felt too much like he could take on the world, so much that it would destroy him. You always knew Ziggy would be huge, but you also feared that David would leave you behind, feared he would forget you in the throws of people who clambered to see this strange alien being, hailing him as a messiah. 

David looks up suddenly, his mouth twitching in concern, as if he could sense something was wrong. When his gaze meets yours, your eyes swelling with fat, wet droplets, he jumps up suddenly, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scoots around blank faces, reaching out only for you. You turn on your heel, running out the door before David manages to grasp your shoulders. You shrug him off, angry at yourself for showing weakness as you whisper, ‘Is this what I mean to you now? You’d rather hang about with all these people, all these famous names you can add to your repertoire of fake gestures and meaningless relationships.’

As David sputters slightly, a look of fear and anger flashing across his face, you yell, ‘Jeez, David, if you’re throwing a bloody end of the world party the least you could have done was invite me, or at least tell me! Nothing, absolutely nothing, is what I’ve heard from you in the last few days! For all I know you could have been dead. Well I’ve had enough. I’m not some puppet, some clown you can string along to use for your kicks-’

A flash of anger that makes you step back a little in fear rises in David’s forceful blue eyes as he growls, ‘you have never, never been that to me y/n. Is that really what you think of me, love?’

As you try to push down the hot tears that helplessly fall out of your eyes, you wrap your arms around your shivering body, mumbling, ‘I don’t know what to think, or what to do anymore David. Or should I say, Ziggy.’

You turn, ready to leave David to wallow over your words, but jumping slightly instead as two determined arms spin you around, fear clouding David’s face as he looks at you desperately, before he licks his lips and you feel two soft hands reach out to cup your face. Before you can react his body shoots forward awkwardly, his plush lips brushing against yours, before he puts his whole body into it, his thumb stroking your cheek as warmth radiates from the lips that trace your own in ferocious desire. You feel warm streaks run down your cheeks, his own salty tears intermingling with the ones drying on your cheeks, like liquid silver, finally making you understand how painfully human he was.

[mrslittletall]

For your latest bingo card: Laurence working himself to Exhaustion :3

Prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Fandom:BloodborneCharacters:Laurence the first Vicar/Ludwig the Holy BladeWordCount: 2.829AO3-Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718291/chapters/45514237

Summary:After Laurence has caught the beastly scourge himself, he feels likehe is running out of time and desperately searches for the cure.

(Author'snote: I want to thank @anaurael who gave me inspiration for thescenario for this prompt. I love Laurence and it was really nice toexplore his character in this oneshot a bit more. I hope you allenjoy.

Warningfor: Vomiting, nosebleed, fire mention)Blood vials have already been filled out, Madman’s Knowledge have already been requested/planned. Feel free to send me a prompt and a character for any unmarked prompt to fill out. Written for @badthingshappenbingo

He was running out of time.

The first symptoms had started with a fever, at least Laurence had believed it was a fever. But once his body temperature rose high enough to actually spontaneous melt the candle he wanted to light, he knew something was wrong. And this also had been the point where he managed to see that his teeth started to get more pointy and fang like.

Laurence, of all people, had managed to catch the beastly scourge.

He had to admit, his symptoms differed a bit of the usual ones. He wasn't too sure if he maybe caught a new unknown sickness yet, but the rest of the symptoms made sense. His body started to change, a strangely big blood lust (granted, Laurence liked to indulge in blood ministrations all the time, so that wasn't that unusual) and a far more short temper than usual.

So now Laurence was sitting in a corner of the library of the Grand Cathedral of the Healing Church, going over all the books he could think of in search of the cure.

We haven't found a cure in all this years. Why should I find one now?

The thought was deep into the back of his mind, a thought he didn't want to think about, but would come back to him once and once again. What other choice did he have? When he turned, all would be over. All the stuff he build himself up. Nobody could know that he managed to get the beastly scourge. He hadn't even told Ludwig and the both where as close as Laurence let another one be. If anyone would know, the reputation of the Healing Church would be over. Especially after what they had done to Old Yharnam...

Thinking about the day the city was burned down into flames to dam the spreading of the beastly scourge, Laurence noticed that the book he was reading at the moment started to smoke. Cursing, he quickly withdrew his hands and put them into a bucket with cold water he had brought with himself, steam coming from the water. He literally couldn't go anywhere without water anymore, the risk that he would ignite something was too high.

Sighing, Laurence grabbed a towel to dry his hands and grabbed for the next book. He started to get more and more desperate. They didn't even know where exactly the beastly scourge came from and using the old blood didn't work. Nonetheless, Laurence still tried. The old blood had been able to heal anything, why wasn't it able to heal the stigma that had befallen Yharnam?

Scanning page after page, Laurence felt his vision swam. It already was after midnight. He must have sat in the library for a few hours now. And he couldn't let his daily duties as the vicar of Healing Church slide either. Staring at the pile of books he still intended to go through, Laurence sighed. He was in for an all-nighter. He slowly pulled the next book to scan through its pages.

The next morning Laurence had met up with Ludwig for breakfast. Because of his status, they couldn't share a room (although Laurence sometimes would slip in the same bed as Ludwig) and so the Hunter didn't had a clue that Laurence had pulled an all-nighter, probably have been out doing his duties the whole day anyway. For Ludwig it was normal that Laurence often was too caught up in his work to be available, so he wouldn't say anything and simply enjoyed the time they could spend with each other.

However, at the moment, Laurence had drifted off and heard the voice of his boyfriend like it came through a fog: “..ence? Laurence? Are you feeling alright?”

Laurence opened his eyes, noticing two things. First, that he apparently had fallen asleep at their breakfast table, his auburn curls sprawled out on the table and second, that the soft boiled egg he wanted to eat for breakfast was hard boiled now.

Laurence shook his head, locking his blue eyes on Ludwig's worried gaze. “I didn't had much sleep.”, he answered truthfully. Ludwig's brown eyes continued to shine with worry.

“Laurence, are you having a fever again? Maybe think about taking one day off, please?”, he said. Laurence could practically feel the guilt burn in his stomach. Or maybe his sickness was digesting the food he had eaten into lava, because that was how he felt whenever the “fever attacks” flared up. Of course he had lied to Ludwig about having the beastly scourge, hiding every symptom he could, but the “fever” was too apparent. He couldn't hide it from Ludwig.

“It will be over soon.”, Laurence said as he fanned himself some air.

“Promise me to take it easy when it doesn't get better.”, Ludwig said with a sigh. “You always push yourself far too hard. Everyone needs a break now or then.” His eyes looked on Laurence. “And be assured, I am going to force you to take this break soon when you keep pushing yourself like this.”

Even while burning up inside, Laurence couldn't help but shiver at the words of the Holy Blade. He even swore he could see the turquoise glow of the sword when Ludwig spoke this words. He gave Ludwig a faint nod and stared at the rest of his breakfast. Laurence didn't felt much of an appetite anymore. In fact, he started to feel terribly nauseous. Oh no, he needed to puke.

He hastily stood up and muttered an apology to Ludwig that he needed to get ready for work now, rushing out of the room with one hand clasped over his mouth. Luckily, his office wasn't far away. The first thing he saw was the obligatory bucket with water and Laurence wasted no time to spit out the sparse breakfast he had managed to eat into it.

Damn, what floated into that water, really was lava.

He wasn't only feeling like burning from the inside, he was literally burning from the inside.

Laurence started to wonder in which kind of beast he would turn.

He quickly shook his head. There were no need to think about this. He just had to discover the cure and he would never find out. However, Laurence still had to go on his daily duties and he was expected at the morning prayer. And he certainly couldn't show up there with the danger of throwing up lava, he still felt pretty nauseous. So Laurence hooked himself up to his personal blood ministration equipment and felt how the old blood flowed into his veins.

Although the old blood hadn't been able to heal the beastly scourge, Laurence still found that it helped to suppress the symptoms at last, making him able to go around a few hours without feeling like burning or intense nausea. While Laurence waited for the old blood to completely join his own blood stream, he heard a knock on the door.

“Laurence, you barely have eaten anything. I am just worried about you. Are you sure you are fine?”, Ludwig's concerned voice sounded through the door.

Laurence, who had leaned his upper body on the table, righted himself up, replying: “I am fine, Ludwig. You know I always turn out fine, regardless what happened. Would you please leave me alone, I need to prepare for work.”

“... You are hanging on the old blood again, right?”, Ludwig sounded through the door, dismissive tone. Ludwig always had found that Laurence overused the old blood and wouldn't even shy away from pulling the needle out of Laurence' arm, creating quite a few bloody messes and bruises at Laurence expense. Needless, Laurence heard the heavy boots of the holy blade trotting away. Laurence sighed and relaxed, laying his upper body and head back on the table. He needed to make it up to Ludwig somehow. Laurence felt bad enough for lying to his boyfriend about his sickness, he didn't deserve the treatment he put him through lately.

After the blood bag was completely emptied into Laurence' blood stream, he unhooked himself from the equipment, pressed a handkerchief on the puncture until he was sure it wasn't bleeding anymore and changed in his white church robes to attend to the morning prayer.

Laurence took a last glance in the mirror to see if he looked representable enough. By the great ones, he looked like crap. Eyes sunken, dark eye circles, pale complexion, the curls which framed his face where damps with sweat and when he opened his mouth that fangs felt so apparent. However, it was going out like this or shut himself in his room and raising even more suspicion. With another sigh, Laurence turned around to leave his office.

To his surprise, Laurence managed the morning prayer mostly fine and nobody even commented on his crappy look. Perks of being the vicar probably, nobody would ask questions (unless the person was Ludwig of course). But just as the prayer ended with the obligatory “Bless us with blood”, Laurence noticed that one of his infamous nosebleeds had started.

Which wouldn't be too bad, although a bit embarrassing, it had happened before, the problem was, that the blood was hot and he could already hear the floor sizzle where the blood had dripped down. Swallowing a curse, Laurence quickly turned around and left the scene, hoping that nobody would notice his absence, pressing his left hand in front of his nose, retreating into the hallway and rushing into an unoccupied room, intending to waiting for the nosebleed to stop.

When the nosebleed finally stopped after a few minutes, Laurence needed two things.

First, to wash his hands, second, he needed to change into clothes that hadn't burn holes all over where the blood had dripped down. Surprisingly, the hand that got covered in that burning blood, didn't feel burned at all.

“It is as if fire is becoming a part of me.”, Laurence muttered to himself, scanning the hallway if it was safe for him to walk it and rushing into his office once he could see nobody passing by.

After Laurence had managed to make himself presentable again, eyeing the blood ministration equipment again, but decided against it, not so soon at last, he could go on his daily duties. He didn't feel like it. He wanted to continue the research for a cure, but sadly, he was the representation of the Healing Church was expected to be around. At least Laurence would be able to continue a bit of his research when he would meet up with the heads of different groups in his office. There was a bit of wait time between each appointment. He went to the library to fetch a few books and then went off to his daily duties.

While Laurence managed to keep up his composure just fine when interacting with others, the sleepless night got to him and he caught himself more and more falling asleep for a few seconds or even minutes before waking up and frantically curse how much time he had wasted. It became especially bad when he had to wait during the appointments, falling asleep over the books more than actually reading him.

Using a bit of the water he had near him all the time to splash himself, trying to get the sleepy feeling out, Laurence told himself he was fine. He could do it. He didn't need any sleep. He could sleep when he was cured.

After Laurence was finally done with his duties, he snatched the books, his notes and another bucket and practically rushed to the research hall, he didn't even think about meeting up with Ludwig for dinner this time. Laurence was just too caught up in the work. Maybe he would reach a breakthrough today. When he was able to heal the beastly scourge, this would not only mean that he himself would be cured, but it would even further cement the Healing Church's position in Yharnam.

However, the lack of sleep finally overtook Laurence and he messed up one of the experiments, which slightly blew up and left him coughing his lungs out, knees on the ground, wheezing between coughs. The smoke he saw rising, was that from the failed experiment or did he literally cough up smoke? He couldn't say with his watery eyes. And before Laurence was able to pull himself up, continuing his research, his body gave up on him and he passed out.

When he woke up, Laurence found himself in his room, feeling that familiar burning feeling. Oh no, hopefully the bucket with water was near, before he could ignite his sheets, but Laurence noticed that he wasn't covered with a blanket. Instead, his forehead, wrists and ankles were covered in cold compresses. Laurence relaxed, that would suffice to keep him from burning things.

But wait, who actually had applied these things? Carefully turning his head, Laurence saw Ludwig sitting next to his bed, adjusting the compress on his forehead. “Ah no, Laurence, don't move yet, you were awfully hot when I found you.”

“... How did you know where to search?”, Laurence asked.

“It was obvious.”, Ludwig stated. “Where else would you be other than at the library or the research hall? I am just glad that I found you in time. I don't know how you were able to suffer something like a heat stroke in the middle of the night, but it happened.”

Laurence winced. Was Ludwig really believing his own words? Laurence had done his best to hide his sickness from him, but now it was too late. Ludwig had found him like this, burning up. He couldn't believe that it was a simple heat stroke, especially with all the fevers Laurence did had beforehand.

“It's a symptom of your sickness, right?”, Ludwig said, eyes locked on Laurence.

“... You know?”, Laurence asked. Ludwig hadn't mentioned that it was the beastly scourge, he just called it a sickness. Maybe he really didn't know. Maybe he thought it was a different sickness. After all, Laurence symptoms differed from the usual ones.

“Of course, Laurence, or did you think I didn't notice your fevers, how often you excused yourself with flimsy reasons and that you wouldn't let me into your office anymore, practically begging for me to go away? Why would you do that if not having something to hide?”, Ludwig stared at Laurence with a scolding look in his eyes. “And then you overwork yourself despite being sick. The librarian has said to me that you spent the whole night in the library, practically having left it when she returned in the morning to reopen it.”

“It could also mean that I just have been there early.”, Laurence said with a sheepish grin. As the Vicar, he had a master key for the whole cathedral and could go and leave whenever he pleased.

“And then falling asleep at breakfast? And having this dark circles under your eyes? No, Laurence, you can't smooth talk your way out of this. You overdid it and I told you, I am forcing you to rest when this happens.”

Laurence shot up when he heard this, groaning, that had been a mistake, it made his head swirl. He felt how Ludwig gently caught him and forced him back to lie down, reapplying the compresses that had fallen off in the process.

“I don't have a choice, I am running out of time.”, Laurence murmured. “I have to find it before... before...” before he turned into a beast. Laurence couldn't end the sentence.

Ludwig stroked over Laurence' scalp, following one of his curls to the very end.

“You can admit that you are afraid. I, too, have never seen a sickness like this before. But I am sure, you will find a cure. And don't forget, you aren't in this alone. You have the whole church under your command and please don't forget that I will forever be at your side. But you have to allow me to be your guiding moonlight.”

Laurence lips parted into a grin. It was very Ludwig to say a corny thing like this.

“Alright.”, he said. “You got me. I will rest for a while.”

“See, that is the spirit.”, Ludwig said, continuing to stroke Laurence' head. “Now how about you try and sleep for a bit? At least until your body cooled down.”

“As long as you don't leave my side.”, Laurence murmured, eyes already closing. While he was definitely running out of time soon, Ludwig was also right that he would go nowhere when he overworked himself like this.

And, who knows, maybe the breakthrough was just around the corner. For now, he needed to rest. Laurence drifted to sleep under the gentle touch of his boyfriend.

He could continue his research tomorrow.(Author'snote: So, it is a deeply rooted headcanon of mine, that Laurencestarted his symptoms of the beastly scourges with feeling likeburning from the inside and igniting or melting things around him.However, I have worked a few other headcanons from the fandom inside,but I don't remember anymore who came up with what. When you wantcredit, please tell me ^^)

[szopenhauer]

Last thing that made you go “aww!” probably a dog I saw 

Is a crow’s caw annoying to you? hmm... not usually, no

Do you enjoy jazz music? one song, when there’s another and more I get sick :x  

Do you like the topaz birthstone? no What are your thoughts on gas prices? I don’t drive so no idea  Are you an ass? can be Have you ever caught any fish while fishing before? I never went fishing nor want to Do you attend Mass? I listen to the mass online every Sunday even though it annoys me and I can’t focus much What was your favorite class in school? can’t decide, depends on the grade/school/teacher etc. Are you full of sass? I’m not Grav3yardgirl

Do you like razzamatazz ice cream? dunno what that is How often do you pass gas? in the morning - a lot, later - not at all unless I have a flare  Do you have a favorite mug/cup/glass? I use those that I like less because I am afraid I will break those I love lmfao Name anything you own that is made of brass. I don’t think I own anything like that even tho brass is cool, I hate copper tho Does your grass need to be cut right now? I like it long, atural *wink wink* Would you like to live in a castle? Why or why not? too much space to take - that’s unfair as some ppl are homeless and nautre should be more free, it’s also too much space to clean and... to get lost in lol

Do you own a car? What kind? I don’t as I already mentioned I don’t drive

Did you live far from your parents, or close by? I live with them, still

Is it easy or difficult for you to open a jar? depends

Tell us how you got one of your scars. fallen from a clothes horse on a piece of wood and scratched deeply my left leg, wound was full of splinters

Do you wish upon a star? it doesn’t work, I tried...

Have you ever smoked a cigar before? nope, just a cigarette and didn’t like it

Would you ever have boudoir photography taken of yourself? Why or why not? hmm...

Do you know how to play the guitar? If not, would you like to learn? tried and it’s not for me

Have you ever had caviar before? Did you like it? I wouldn’t try that, gross and expensive for such a small amount of food

How old were you when you had your first kiss? 18 or 19

Miss anyone right now? sure

Are there some songs you cant listen to because they remind you of someone? could say so

Have you ever cheated on a partner? nooo

Ever been cheated on? kind of

Do you have a friend who you think you’ll be best friends with forever? my dad I hope

Does it annoy you when you accidentally delete things? very

What`s a movie / book / TV show / band / whatever you highly recommend? I usually don’t recommend anything to anyone without knowing them and their taste first

Are you anticipating or dreading anything? some things both at the same time even

What`s the most annoying thing in the world? can’t choose only one thing

When did you last use one of those water slides you put on hills? never

What does your bedside lamp look like? I have a green night light, used to have a mushroom one but I can’t find a light bulb to replace 

What did you last take a photograph of? I took several today but the last one was of the wild flowers growing near my fence 

When was the last time you got really frustrated with technology? today, my camera didn’t want to cooperate, not even mentioning my computer and cellphone failing me constantly

What was the last funny thing someone said to you? I don’t remember what was last, I know I said some dry/daddy jokes/puns myself

Who taught you to tie your shoelaces? I don’t remember but I know I do that differently than everybody else in my family 

Do you want to move to somewhere else? If so, where? badly, just my own apartment 

What’s your favourite picture of yourself as a child? hmm... dunno

Do you like your neighbours? some I hate

Does your room need to be cleaned? absolutely

Do you have a good relationship with your family? it’s complicated, depends on the family member, my father is my best friend tho

What is something people are surprised to hear about you? the truth? *shrug*

Do you hate any particular groups of people? yup but won’t list them in here

Do you fall up or down stairs usually? I don’t fall often enough to compare

Do you constantly break things? (By mistake or otherwise) luckily not

What was the last bug you saw? plenty of bugs this day

Are there any smells which make you feel nauseous? basically all of them make me feel nauseous

Do you have anything unusual in your bag? I suppose

What`s your favourite key on a keyboard? don’t think I have one, some I don’t use at all tho

Who`s your favourite character from The Simpsons? Or do you hate that show? Lisa I think

Have you ever had any friends who always tried to steal your things? sorta

If you were abandoned in the wilderness, would you survive? maybe How do you make your money? I use my parents money for now :( sometimes I sell my belongings 

What color are your eyes? hazel?

How tall are you? 156 cm short

Which do you prefer, to eat or sleep? sleep

Do you look more like your mom or your dad? mom, besides eyes

How long does it take you to shower? about half an hour?

Are you flexible? in a weird way

Can you speak any other language than English? polish, a bit of russian and used to know Braille’a

What is the last letter of your middle name? I have no middle name, just confirmation one 

Do you wear your seatbelt in the car?: yes

Are you scared of flying? not crashing but smells and noise and puking etc.

What do you sleep in? pajama Who was the last person you kissed? @muziasta​ 

What jewelry do you wear all the time? recently necklace I got from my gf

Is the last person you kissed older than you? younger, almost 2 months hahaha

Do you have a favorite item of clothing? I like most of my clothes

Last movie you saw in theaters? last time I was in cinema I still attend high school, not a fan of that place

What was last thing you drank? water

Are you left handed? am not

What is the last thing you thought about? lots of stuff

Do you want to get married & have children one day? I don’t want any kids!

What is the most recent gift you’ve been given? a mug Did I just roll my eyes out loud Is what you’re wearing comfortable? why not?

Did you leave the house today? twice

Are there bumper stickers on your car? if I had a car...

Are you watching tv right now? What? I didn’t watch TV for months

Do you have a job? not currently

Have you ever shot a gun? in middle school

What do your parents do for a living? my mom is retired and my dad is a guard

Have you ever had a pet that had babies? noooo

What color is the blanket on your bed? blue and yellow with sun and moon

What are your parent’s middle names? they don’t have those

Have you ever broken a bone? just my nose?

Do you wear lasses? nope

What color are they? -

Are you currently reading a book? finished one and didn’t start another yet

When did you last get your blood drawn? not that long time ago

How many contacts are in your phone? about 5

What things do you take with you everywhere? that’s personal

Do you know someone that is/was over 100 years old? nah

Do you own any rings? yeah

Could you list all 50 states? no way

What internet browser do you use? Opera

Do you know someone that’s missing a limb? there’s this guy that sometimes takes a bus with me and he has no leg but that’s all

Are you a bad person? possibly

What was the last swear you said? not sure which was last, I say way too many for my own good :x

Have you ever called the police on someone? not me but my parents, also fire department 

What is the most amount of pets you’ve had at one time? 2

When did you last check your email? last week

Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? few times

How long is your hair? short

Do you lock your doors at night? of course

Does your bedroom have a lock? sadly not

How big is your bed? smol

Do you know someone that was murdered? not personally 

Do you know someone who’s pregnant not now

Do you wear a watch? no

How much jewelry do you own? too much for how often I wear it

Have you ever gotten x-rays? shitload 

Do you wear gloves in the winter? fingerless

Do you consider yourself smart? in a way, I might be

Are your teeth straight? they’re not 

Do you own a bike? push scooter but I plan to buy a bike of some sort this summer

Are you taller than your mom? I am :D

Have you ever been engaged? I have not

What, in your opinion, is the ugliest name? many are to me, especially those I relate to certain enemies

Have you ever come up with your own idea for an app? of a game 

Do you remember to put the caps back on your pens? what for? 

When’s the last time you sat on someone else’s lap? this week

Do you take naps often? once in a few months

Do you like to listen to rap? meh

Do you prefer gift wrap or gift bags? gift bags, gift paper annoys me and it’s worthless

What chore do you wish you could get done just by snapping your fingers? all of them? XD

Have you ever done tap dancing before? pretend

Have you ever felt trapped? always?...

Has a strap on your bag ever broken before? it started to so I changed it

Do you watch episode recaps, or skip ahead? skip

Do you know anyone who owns a Venus flytrap plant? my (now ex) friend wanted to, they’re interesting but you have to clean them and I’m not fond of picking up dead flies, yuk

Do you drink water out of the tap, or does it have to be bottled? bottled or I boil it

[atomic-r0x]

Part One | Ziggy Damien Johnson-Collins

Tonight is business as usual.

He wakes up with a dreading feeling tugging at his insides until he rolls out of bed, it’s exactly half past eight in the evening and sure as h.ell time for a glass of whiskey on rocks. He’s left his phone somewhere in the living room and he can hear its muted vibrations, he doesn’t even need to look at the screen, just knows already it’s The Sick Kids In Town – Richie come up with the group name when he was higher than every single building in Dubai and nobody has bothered to chance it later on, so it keeps sending notifications to Damien’s phone like he is some thirteen year old member of a notorious baddies gang with a curfew of eleven pm.

He ignores the phone even when the possibility of his sister trying to contact him pops up in his mind – she is a fully grown adult now and if she really needs him, she’ll come knocking the f.cking door off. The thought of him being slightly jealous at the fact that it is her first time not staying over at his place while in New York City is uncomfortable and highly unnecessary, so he shakes it off and throws three ice cubes into a glass, the type his grandfather bought him when he got this apartment, gothic engraved crystal and all.

Hannah is staying at the Ludlow Hotel, Loft 405, he knows that because she’s been considerate enough to give him the address, fully detailed and invitation-y, but he’s not into that kind of stuff. Gianni booked the room and arranged all the details and it’s their first official trip to New York and by no means is Damien interested in third wheeling the most touchy couple in human history. ‘What, aren’t you like, his wife or something?’ he asked when she told him visiting the loft in Ludlow didn’t mean invading their privacy. ‘Don’t be a fool, Dam, we’re not mom and dad’ she replied casually as ever, her fingers long and tanned and bare.

But it’s still her celebratory party and she’s still his sister and his most favourite person, so he downs his drink and strolls into the living room, hand scratching at his bare back. Twenty unread messages – fifteen of which are from the group chat, another four from Hannah, but the last one is always a surprise, for some reason. It’s Evangelina – it’s always Evangelina, isn’t it? – and the message itself can pass as absolutely anything to the untrained, foreign eye: ‘ritz central, room 786, charlotte meadow’. He doesn’t have the time to smirk to himself because a new message follows, it’s from her of course, and he can bet a thousand pounds what she’s wearing tonight – ‘bring something nice, will you? champagne or whatever’

It feels ridiculous and certainly like a waste of money, because Evangelina doesn’t even own an accommodation of any sort to begin with, she lives in one of Ludlow’s penthouses, but for some inexplicable reason she avoids banging there at all costs. She once told Damien it excited her to play the role of a different woman every once in a while, booking herself obnoxious rooms and suites in obnoxious hotels, but he can hardly believe that. Her Ludlow penthouse is very much part of her trust fund and her father’s connections, Damien really can’t be blamed for thinking it has more to do with her reputation among staff members than any other kink. Although really, poor thing, what does she think living in a hotel tells about herself anyway?

He rubs the back of his neck and closes his eyes and the image of her flashes before his shut eyelids and his insides are on fire, but not the good, groovy type – flames are eating him alive one organ at a time and he’s not protesting, not even in the least bit. He’s so tired, he could sleep for a thousand years. He is standing in the middle of his living room, half naked and in some ridiculous pants he hates and he feels like he might cry, for the first time in so fxcking long. He feels that lump in his throat and his eyes feeling a little sweaty and he’s so ready to just finally sob, let it all out there, but he doesn’t, his eyes peel open and they’re dry as ever and he’s already on his way for a second round of whiskey.

By the time he’s fully dressed and ready to go, it’s almost half past ten in the evening. He likes taking his time and anyway, if there’s anything his mother has taught him it is being fashionably late for just about anything. The kids – which is basically Mitch and Richie and Sara, more recently – will most probably skip the queue and get free entry in Black Flamingo in an hour, but that is way too early for his night-time habits. He checks his phone and considers calling Hannah, but the thought of her and Gianni having other things to do hits him like the smell of something that has gone off, unsuspected and foul and stomach twisting. It’s off to Evangelina’s, then, or better said Charlotte Meadow’s – he always found it so hard to keep up with her aliases, although she’d never asked him to – and his frame sinks down into the black leathered seats of the cab like a ten thousand ton anchor pulling a ship down into the merciless depths of endless oceans.

It’s almost eleven o’clock when the taxi driver pulls over in front of probably the most pretence-posh place he’s ever seen. Damien walks in through the main entrance and in those very few seconds it takes for him to push past the sliding doors, his back straightens, a charming subtle smile shows up, his eyes turn softer and more inviting, his overall appearance elevates so quickly that any witness might mistake it for a vision trick. This is his protective shield, the most valuable lesson ever learnt from his father, the most recognisable feature in all the men to have ever been part of his family tree – ‘it’s the Johnson curse’ his grandfather once said with a half-smile lingering on his lips, eyes emotionless before a wall of memorable meetings captured into photographs.

‘H-How can I help you?’ the concierge stutters and blushes slightly, she’s just turned around surprised by his soft voice almost whispering ‘hello’, her legs are still crossed from the twist as she sits down and regains her composure, but she still steals a look when she thinks Damien’s not watching.

‘Could you please let Miss Charlotte Meadow someone has come to visit her?’ he says ever so softly and before she can nod politely, he can catch that momentary pang of jealousy in her eyes. It was always the customers and not the staff who always had the most of life.

 He’s sweaty and panting and dying for a smoke but there’s no way these windows will ever open wide enough and he’s not some fxcking teenager so desperate to have a fag they’ll have it illegally. Evangelina is already at the makeup mirror, putting her jewellery back on although she’s otherwise so completely bare, inside out. They’re not talking, they haven’t been for a while, not since he walked into the room and she greeted him with that sultry smirk of hers that she always saves just for him.

‘What’s with that long face?’ she finally comments, eyes never once leaving the reflection in the mirror, as she’s wiping off the sweat for a fresh layer of makeup. She is so insanely beautiful and vulgar all the same, that naughty gap tooth she’s always had, those wide eyes, that rounded chest like ripe cherries, it never fails to startle Damien how something so wonderful can be so equally fxcked up rotten.

He doesn’t reply, but wraps the sheets around his hips and heads straight to the minibar, where of course he hadn’t brought her champagne – what were they, in love? Certainly not – and pours two generous glasses of gin, but he leaves hers untouched, returning to the bed holding only his glass instead. ‘You’re keeping Mitch waiting, you know?’ Damien finally speaks and as soon as the thought fills his mind, he’s nauseous again.

It’s not like be believes or cares for the so-called brocade, but it’s just basic human interaction rules they’ve been crossing for so long. Evangelina found out about Mitch’s undying desire for her ages ago and yet decided it was only fitting to have Mitch himself tell Damien the exact same thing, all drunk and angry and face fxcked up from a bar fight many months later. And even then, it never stopped between Damien and Evangelina – whatever this was, acquaintances with benefits, because she could hardly be called a friend after all, kept going fully aware of their friend’s suffering, the built-up frustration boiling inside of him every time he saw them together.

‘He’ll survive, I’m taking him to the Marriott later so he may as well have a little patience’ Evangelina speaks in perfect monotone, hands doing precise angle work on her cat eye, and the whole situation just makes Damien chuckle, if it can’t send him straight to the toilet, gagging.

‘How many hotels do you go to on a daily basis?’ he’s joking but not really, and it feels dirty to even look at her, but it’s only for a second, before he remembers how much he’d just love to stick his teeth into her flesh any time.

‘Fxck off, first of all’ it’s the first time she’s looking at him since rolling from beneath the sheets but her face is unperturbed, maybe just alluring if anything. ‘What did you want me to do? Come back hours later with another guy and have them thinking I’m some desperate night girl? Of course I booked another room, you might as well cheer for him, he gets to see prettier places than those fxcking bathrooms all the other girls are taking him to’ and then she stops, her cat eyes are done, but there’s something on her mind that just wouldn’t let her go on so she gets up, tall and naked and gorgeous, and gets her glass of gin from the minibar. ‘Sometimes I just wonder what the fxck his mom’s been doing to his head, can’t find a single girl for longer than one night. And it’s not even like he’s this weird ugly no-name guy, he just doesn’t know what women are to be honest.’

That’s a lot of talking from Evangelina’s side in the state that they’re in and had things been different, Damien might have suspected she is filling bad for Mitch or, worse, feeling actual thing for the guy, but he just shrugs and they both down their drinks and it’s time for a long cold shower.

 The club is always the same, even if the venues change. Many people packed in the darkness, an overpopulated mess eager for some friction or at least some God forsaken good time. There’s grabbing and clawing and screaming and tongue kissing and sweat and spilling drinks on the floor and on strangers and on the people you know, licking liquor off lips and hands and chests and necks and an endless queue at the toilet for any unfortunate ones who haven’t had their chance at romance and just want to fxcking piss.

He’s tired of this. The music’s so loud he can barely hear what he’s thinking and there is no way he can pull out of it now, call it an early night or anything. Hannah’s poker faced and swaying to the music although this is no music to be swaying to, Gianni’s ordering shots after shorts after shots for everyone and it’s well past four in the morning. Some people wake up at this hour, getting ready for their miserable lives doing jobs so many others find miserable, but they pay the bills and it sickens Damien to the stomach to even think about it, feel the weight of his privilege and his life wasted away with things he doesn’t really care for with people he can do without.

 It’s the crack of dawn and he’s dying. Blurry eyed and angry at everything in the world, he crawls up the stairs to his apartment, his keys are underneath the door mat and it stinks of cigarette smoke inside. His plants are dying, there’s barely anything in the fridge, and he falls dead asleep dragged by a sinking feeling.