#idk. we spent hours together. that's a long time to humour someone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lamentsof-bee · 5 years ago

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taking scissors to pure canon - take two

i wrote this fic for @perseachase bc we couldn't believe that royai didn't end up together and we are 100% FMAB trash. always.

i’m not saying i wrote it better (but wendy might >.< (KIDDING hiroshi onogi plz don’t kill me!))

this story wrote itself and really wasn't for anyone but us but i figured if we were feeling this way, maybe someone else was too. endless pining and never-quite-fluff is always a must.

idk, shameless self indulgence as always. but y'all can read it if you want (only if you don't judge my constant change of tense tho!!! it's a MOOD ok???)

(also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498194)

Summary: There are plenty of ways their story could have ended. But there was only one ending that was right.

Riza Hawkeye swore to her Colonel that she would follow him into hell. He never realized that one day, he would truly need her to do so.

They had heartbreak a-plenty under their belt. And scars to prove their worth. After Ishval... after the Homonculus... after everything, didn't they deserve a softer ending?

[A story that fills in the gaps and voices the thoughts of the truest OTP to ever walk the streets of Amestris]

The first time Riza Hawkeye met Roy Mustang she had come into the kitchen through the backdoor. The estate still seemed grand back then, it was clean and her father had been esteemed and passionate enough to make a good living for his family.

Roy stood at the stove watching a pot boil.

Riza entered through the door letting the house cat she had chased in the garden escape her arms.

‘I think it’s hot.’ She said nodding at the pot in front of him.

‘Hm?’ A beat had passed. ‘Oh, yeah. Professor Hawkeye is having me look at all sources of heat so –’

‘So you’re staring at a pot of boiling water and hoping it will impart some wisdom on you?’

She had deadpanned it.

‘The secrets of alchemy are many.’ He was too distracted by his task to notice her jab, or at least that’s what she thought.

She shrugged and passed him. She didn’t know then that this person would plague her mind for the following nine years.

Their meetings from then on had been sporadic and they rarely exchanged more than a couple words. Still, Roy had become shadow she was used to in her house. She stopped being surprised to find him huddled in her father’s office reading quietly.

When her mother had passed, though, things had changed.

Professor Hawkeye became more withdrawn. The doors to his study would almost always be closed. He took all his meals at his desk and rarely made conversation with Roy, let alone Riza.

Roy had provided comfort during that time.

She liked to bug him about his slow academic progress but sometimes, when her father got too caught up in his own mind, she would sit with Roy in the kitchen and he would tell her about what he was learning.

The complicated matrices of alchemy were a welcomed distraction to the mansion that stood in shambles and the gravestone it guarded.

She had found his eyes welcoming back then. His entire being open and excitable. He’d make a snide remark, even flirt a little, and she would be reminded of what it was like to look at a real human being. Not the shell of one her father had become.

More than once she caught herself wanting to tell Roy about the secret her father had made out of her. How he spent long hours poring over her back immortalizing his work onto her skin. She wondered what Roy’s eyes would look like if he ever found out.

She shook her the idea out of her head.

Riza remembers the day he gave her his name card. A soldier working his way through the ranks. The day he said he would find a place for her if she ever felt lost. The funeral had marred the day with sadness and yet Riza remembered her heart lifting as she took what he offered her. It was nice that he had offered to organize the funeral too. God knows there was nothing left in the Hawkeye bank account but debt and disarray. It had been even nicer of him to quietly watch over her, never knowing that this had been her father’s final wish.

He hadn’t become a state alchemist at the time. And yet, when she looked at him all she saw wide eyed hunger for knowledge and change.

Roy Mustang wanted to change the world.

It had been an accident, that he let his plans slip. He shouldn’t have told her, he knew it. Wide eyes optimism seemed silly. But he got caught up in the moment and the feeling of his mentor’s bones calling out to him from the grave begging for relief had forced him to open his mouth.

She had let her secret slip then too.

The secret that her father had entrusted her with a coded Transmutation Array branded on her back. She wanted the world to be better, she realized. She wanted the world to be safer. So that no child had to grow up without a mother, and so that every kid would have someone to reach out to if their ever distant father grew more tiresome.

He had made up his mind, he was going to be a good solider. He used the knowledge she had imparted to him and began to learn.

Countless days he spent hovering over her naked back copying the symbols into his notebook, muttering to himself. His touch had always been soft and his eyes always full of wonder as he looked at the markings. Never once did he let his confusing get the better of him. And he always made sure to thank Riza for her sacrifice, for baring herself to him and trusting him.

He must have known somehow that he was all she had left. A last comfort in a comfortless world.

She made him swear to take her secrets to his grave. She didn’t understand why her father had burned his entire research before he passed but she would not be one to disobey him, even in death. If he wanted the research private, then it would remain that way. For eternity.

Now Roy tried to carry the burden with her and went to make a difference.

It took him three years to pass the State Alchemist certification exam and with it he earned the title Major. Change was long overdue.

So she went to war with him.

It turns out years of good humoured can shooting in the backyard and kicking it with the local street urchins were enough foundation for a good soldier to be built upon.

And a good solider she was. No one could ever tell Riza Hawkeye that she wasn’t committed.

She took the parts of herself that her father had shunned, the wide-eyed lost look that longed for love, and buried them deep within her. In its stead she took her rifle firmly and never missed a shot. Riza was strong now. They didn’t call her The Hawk’s Eye for nothing.

‘Life’s a whole lot easier if you’ve got someone watching your six.’ Maes Hughes had said to Roy.

He had been right. Major Hughes was often right, though Roy would never admit it. And Riza always had his back.

The things they did in Ishval…

The crimes they committed there…

It was unspeakable.

Riza will never forget the smell of burning skin and the Major’s eyes as he forced himself to watch.

No one was surprised when the troops (the ones that survived that is) came back with PTSD and fever dreams.

Riza found herself washing her hands, trying to scrape off the blood she had spilled, so often that her hands had permanent calluses and the skin was always red and dry.

The person Ishval had turned her into… that wasn’t what she joined the military for. This wasn’t what she wanted…

Looking in the mirror all she saw was a woman with sunken in cheeks, bags under her eyes and a short haircut that should have been efficient but now only reminded her if her time at war. She had only been a cadet, god damn it. Graduating from the academy with what?! A diploma and body count in the hundreds?

So young to have seen such chaos.

The alchemic secrets branded into her back felt heavier than ever.

But Riza Hawkeye was strong now.

So she grew her hair out. Never again would she look in the mirror and look like the person she had been. She ate better, forced herself to rest more. Eventually her cheeks filled out and her skin gained colour. The tiredness though, that never really passed. Not truly. The days she was plagued by nightmares, most nights really, she recounted Roy’s goals. His plan for protecting the people and the country.

Had it been foolish of her to believe him?

Could she still trust in him after watching him burn an entire country off the map? He had been following orders… and so had she…

Her thoughts were still clouded when she called on him. He picked up on the second ring, his voice rough.

‘Hello?’

‘Major Mustang…’ She hesitated, not sure how to continue or what to say. Why had she called him again?

‘Hawkeye. It’s midnight.’ He knew. He always knew.

A pause. Neither of them continue.

Perhaps they are both thinking about the last time they spoke.

They had been standing in front of the graves of children. Children that they had slaughtered. She had asked him what had happened, what had changed? How could he have convinced her to follow him into the military with a speech of grandeur and change when all she had gotten was death and decay?

He takes a breath and takes one for the team.

‘I could use some company, Hawkeye. What do you say?’

Her yes is shaky at best. It’s the first of many times he masks his desire to help her as his own weakness. It’s the first of many times that she chooses to ignore it and agree.

When he shows up to her apartment he’s dressed casually. Any other woman would have fanned herself at the white shirt, black slacked gentleman leaning against the doorframe. Major Mustang was handsome and found the company of women a-plenty. But today he looked tired.

He always looks tired. Riza thought to herself. We all do.

He makes no comment regarding her apartment. She had been left a dowry by her mother, it wasn’t much, not enough to cover the rent of even a shoebox apartment. This one had been left to her by a distant aunt that had wanted to spite her own kids. Riza hadn’t known her well, nor had she really cared. But she took the apartment nonetheless.

He stands stiffly in the middle of her living room, his eyes cast towards the dark window.

‘Can’t sleep, Major?’ Riza has her back facing him, keeping her hands busy by making tea.

‘I’m sure you know the feeling.’

Her hands pause but her silence is evidence enough.

‘Would you like some tea?’

She brings over the kettle on a tray with two teacups. Pouring, she focuses on the task at hand.

He searches her face.

‘Tell me what’s on your mind.’

Her movements halt as she re-examines her intentions. She pushes the teacup towards him and strengthens her resolve.

‘You made me a promise.’

He is silent, unmoving.

‘When we stood in the ruins of Ishval, you made me a promise.’ She goes on. ‘No more flame alchemists can exist. No one should be given access to such power again.’

Her words are firm. His tea is untouched.

The implication of her statement is clear. I will never see this power abused the way it has been ever again.

‘Think about what you’re asking.’ His words are quiet but they stand as firm as hers.

‘I know what I’m asking.’

‘I don’t think you do.’

Her voice rises. ‘To destroy evidence of alchemic research is - ’

‘No! Think of what it would do to you!’

Roy clenches his fists in his lap, he looks at her incredulously. ‘You’re asking me to disfigure you. To hurt you simply to make information inaccessible. It’s…’ He hesitates. ‘It’s not good enough.’

The betrayal is clear on Riza’s face.

‘You swore to me that you would do this. You promised that all evidence of flame alchemic research would be destroyed.’ Her look turns accusing. ‘Is this the second promise you will break to me?’

Something inside Roy wavers. He felt his heart stop and the full consequence and destruction he had caused in Riza’s life becomes clear to him. She followed him into the military. She followed him into war. No amount of good intention could revive the parts of their humanity they had lost fighting for Amestris.

His voice is small. ‘Don’t make me do this.’

But she can’t give in.

‘Please don’t make me hurt you too.’

‘You promised.’

Their eyes bore into each other. Neither seem to be breathing.

Not until –

Not until she breaks.

‘Please.’ Her voice barely a whisper. Tears welling but her eyes hold his. ‘Set me free.’

He comes undone. He owes her this. He owes her – everything, everything he could ever give.

And so she stands in front of him, shirt on the floor, arms wrapped around her torso as if she could hide her vulnerability.

The markings on her back look the same as they had when he had first studied them. The back they laid on was stronger though, the muscles more tight, the skin seemed thinner as if time had eroded its previous youthful glow.

Her face is angled over her shoulder but she doesn’t look at him.

‘Hawkeye…’

‘Do it.’ She insists.

He drew a haphazard transmutation circle on the back of his hand with a marker she dug up in her kitchen. The entire time she had been quiet, quietly getting the marker, quietly arranging herself in front of the heater unbuttoning her blouse. Before he could stop himself his fingertips brushed against the tattoos. The markings he had studied for hours, he hadn’t realized how much they weighed on her. They had given him freedom, power even, but for Riza it seems they had always been a burden.

Set me free. She had begged him.

‘I’m sorry.’ It’s barely a whisper. His fingers are fanned over her shoulder blade. He wills the heat to spread through his joints all the way to the tips of his fingers and out. He feels the heat of his alchemy connect with her skin and attempts, as gently and with as much control as he can muster, to penetrate only the surface of her back. To scar her markings but leave her as uninjured as possible.

She tenses with pain, her fingers claw into her sides as she suppressed a whimper. The heat moves downwards singeing anything it passed He manages to burn through the top left part of the Array before he needs to turn his back on her. The smell of burnt flesh, the sizzling of her skin under his hand - it reminds him too much of the battlefield. What is he doing?! His stomach turns and it takes all of his willpower to not vomit on her carpet. If he could cut his hand off then and there, he would.

Her breath is frantic, her face tear stained.

‘Go on.’ She chokes out.

He turns and hesitates, he can see her strength draining as the pain takes over. There are few things worse than second degree burns.

‘Riza…’

‘Do it!’

Free me!

He needs to close his eyes this time but manages to put his hand on the right side of the small of her back. He starts the process over. He’s praying to any and all gods that he’s not inflicting irreparable damage. They both don’t last too much longer before the pain is unbearable and his flashbacks get too strong. By the time he’s finished there are tears running down his face and gall riding up his throat.

With shaking hands he moves towards her, meaning to provide some kind of comforting touch but hesitates. She must only see him as destruction now. Even more than before.

Still, his instincts kick in as her knees buckle, he grabs her by the arms. She’s out like a light, her breathing is labored and heavy. He attempts to move his arms around her stomach, trying to find the most comfortable position for her and a way for the burns to remain untouched.

He thinks that she would hate to be seen in such an exposed state so he grabs the shirt she had dropped and gently places it over her chest.

They should have prepared better for this, he thinks to himself. They hadn’t prepared water, ointment or any means to alleviate pain. Although the last, he guessed, had been on purpose. Riza Hawkeye would always endure. She probably felt like she deserved to feel this pain. That this was the least she had to suffer to atone for what she had done in Ishval.

His attempts to move her to the bedroom where she could lay out her pain were complicated. He feels drained by what he just experienced and Riza’s body is hard to hold on to without agitating the burns further. He ends up gently holding her at the top of the shoulders and under the knees. An adjusted bridal position so to say. Not that he would ever tell her that, she might pull out her Glock just for mentioning marriage.

He manages to open the bedroom door with his elbow and almost trips as a black Shiba jumps to its feet having curled up in front of it.

‘Woah boy.’ Mustang adjusts his arms, attempting to move as little as possible. This friend was one Roy had never met before.

Black Hayate, Riza’s most recent companion of comfort, whines as he sees his owner unresponsive and follows Roy as he steps towards the bed.

He lays her on her side as softly as possible and moves her so that she is laying in the recovery position. This would alleviate any risk of further aggravating her injuries. Black Hayate jumped on the bed and padded over to his master. His expression one of confusion and hurt.

‘She can’t hear you right now.’ Mustang said quietly. ‘She needs to rest.’

Black Hayate runs his nose along Riza’s back, carefully taking in the changes. His whining continues as the smell of blood and singed skin fills the room.

Roy goes to open a window. The wind blows into the room in soft streams. It’s a cold wind though, one that would bite if it were only slightly stronger. Unconsciously, he slides down the wall and sits under the window, his eyes never leaving Riza.

Her breathing was shallow but the tears on her face had dried. The tracks they left behind were a stark contrast against the white of her skin. Riza never cries.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He rubs the tears out of his eyes, unwilling to lose his composure in front of Hawkeye whether she was conscious or not.

Desiring to undo the hurt he inflicted on her, he goes searching for ointment in the bathroom. He finds something similar enough to burn cream and forces himself to look at every single pattern he burned into her skin. The skin is charred and red, raw and open. Just like Riza, this was his atonement. His atonement for the sins he committed against her.

He follows the new marks on her skin and carefully applies the cream, pausing every time her body so much as twitched.

‘Are you free now?’ There was no use asking her, she couldn’t answer, but he had to anyway. Had this changed anything?

He thinks back to their times at the Hawkeye estate. He had spent countless years sharing the space with her. And then when he went to Ishval, she had been there too. His formative years had the red string of Riza Hawkeye running through them.

He knew that Riza had always felt tied down by the duty of her father. Had always succumbed to the Professor’s greatest needs, ignoring her own. The world of flame alchemy was carried on her shoulders alone. Not even Roy, who was a Flame Alchemist, could alleviate that.

He didn’t know if she found peace in her wounds. He hoped she did. It was the least that she deserved.

God, he wanted so badly to set her free. He hated that it had to come at the cost of her wellbeing.

A tiny voice inside him moaned I need you to be well. I need you to be safe. But as he always did, he kept his thoughts to himself, pushed them down until they were only a faint whisper.

Sitting at her back allowed him time to mull over exactly how he had been talked into mutilating the one person he insisted he would protect.

He had sworn such an oath to himself long before Professor Hawkeye had even brought it up. He could always use the professor as an excuse but he knew deep inside that he decided he was going to look out for Miz Hawkeye the second she made fun of him for standing in front of that boiling pot of water.

The memories came flooding back as if they had only just happened. Terse smiles exchanged in the hallway, a blanked laid over his shoulders as he fell asleep on his text book again, coffee strong enough for both of them to withstand the withering looks of the professor. Silent laughs at the kitchen counter, plenty of meals shared and stories told.

A fist clenched around his heart.

The memories became tarnished with darkness. The look on her face after she killed her first civilians, her head on his shoulder when exhaustion got the better of her, the way she’d snatch up the leftover sausages from his rations – the only semblance of joy she found in her time abroad. (She never knew he always saved them for her.)

They kept coming, the memories. And the pillow he was leaning against felt softer and softer. His mind clouded and the last thing he thought of before giving into the tendrils of darkness was blonde hair, quit wit and the smell of sausages.

They never spoke of that night again.

She served him coffee in the morning. French press, no milk. Just the way he liked it.

Their conversation was as minimal as her movements. She wore a t-shirt that went down to her knees and barely moved an inch.

Mustang spared a thought to the owner of the shirt, thinking it must be a man’s.

Then they say their good-byes and she closes the door as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Major Mustang was promoted for his heroic deeds in Ishval, he went by Lieutenant Colonel Mustang from then on and he had a new dream.

He had wanted to strengthen the government only to protect the people he loved. Clearly, that was no longer an option. As Professor Hawkeye had said, military lapdogs account for little change in the world – that cycle needed to be stopped. So Mustang reevaluated his desire and adapted it.

If he couldn’t protect his people by joining the military, he would protect them by leading it.

Who was going to oppose the Fuhrer?

No one.

Well, no one but him.

Ordered to Central City, Mustang accumulated a motley crew of wacky but loyal subordinates. He even called upon Hawkeye. Although she had once confessed she wished to retire, her thoughts were too filled with carnage and tragedy to find anything resembling rest.

He appointed her his personal aide and bodyguard.

He looked at her from behind his new desk as he proposed his plan.

‘Do you accept my offer?’

To stand behind you and fight, finally actually fight, for the right thing? To strike you down should you ever so much as waver?

She barely spared it a thought.

‘Of course I do, sir.’

She vowed. ‘I’ll follow you into hell if you ask me to.’

You already have. He thought.

Time brought about another promotion and plenty of trouble. People might say they had countless adventures since joining forces but the truth was both Lieutenant Major Mustang and 2nd Lieutenant Hawkeye walked a painful path.

Together they saw the aftermath of a Human Transmutation attempt and two orphans too lost to find their way. The little Rockbell girl, a name familiar to Mustang, had asked why anyone would join such an institution. Why the only people she had left to love should.

Hawkeye’s answer had been simple.

Because there are many ways you protect those you love and that was one of them.

Though she would never admit what love she was protecting, even when that love walked into the room and told her their time was up.

Within a year, the duo had been promoted and Maes Hughes had been murdered.

It was quite a picture, the Colonel with his hair pushed back, dressed in mourning.

1st Lieutenant Hawkeye stood at the grave and watched as her Colonel grieved.

It was the first time she had seen such emotion burst forth from him. He rarely talked about his past but when he did it was always with quick wit or in a cold matter-of-fact way. Maes Huges though… Colonel Mustang spoke plenty of Maes Hughes.

And how annoying his constant chatter was.

And how frustrating his cowardice was.

And how much he believed in the good of the world.

And how pure his heart was.

How much he loved his family.

‘Alchemists as a whole - we really are horrible creatures, aren’t we?’

His voice cracks. She has no answer.

‘I think I understand what drove those boys when they tried to bring back their mother.’

She couldn’t stop herself, not when he was hurting like this.

‘Are you alright, Colonel?’ A dumb question really.

He positions his hat, pulls it down over his eyes.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ His voice is low, it’s barely a croak. ‘Except, it’s a terrible day for rain.’

Confused she answers: ‘What do you mean? It’s not raining.’

Only then does she notice the tear tracks on his face and his lips pressed tightly together. There’s a hurt in her heart that she can’t quite place and a quiet sadness in her inability to alleviate his suffering.

‘Yes, it is.’

All she can say is: ‘So it is.’

Her Barry the Chopper encounter leaves Hawkeye more shaken up than she would like to admit.

It had been funny for a second, her heart may even have skipped a beat, as the Colonel’s face turned icy when the armour had called her ‘toots’ and he muttered ‘Stand aside, Lieutenant. There’s going to be a fire tonight.’

She never needed his protection anyway, he reckoned. But he’d offer it just for showmanship’s sake.

Just in case.

His comfort though… he always knew when she needed that.

She had excused herself early from their re-con session, he saw her eyes were downcast.

He called that night and she pretended to be surprised. He wafted on about Madam Christmas’ hostess bar, whiskey and wine.

She was content to listen to him. It distracted her from the feeling of impending doom, a feeling that was eerily familiar (Ishval, perhaps?). More souls connected to suits of armour meant more transmutation, more experiments, more evil.

‘These ladies won’t leave me alone, Hawkeye.’

He smiles ruefully, his complaint giving her a chance to jab at him.

‘I’m sure once they hear you speak, they will feel plenty deterred, Colonel.’ Her bland answer is an indication that she feels slightly better.

‘…Hawekeye…’ He whines.

He pushes away the thought of cracking another joke, instead his tone turns serious.

‘I will always be right in front of you.’

He hears her breath hitch, just for a moment.

‘If you ever feel lost, just follow my voice. I won’t lead you astray. I will always be right here.’

Time passes too quickly. The Colonel fakes Ross’ death, his team have their first encounter with Gluttony and Barry the Chopper decides to have a mind of his own. It is at that point that they met Lust and for the first time both of our soldiers needed to admit to themselves, quietly, that they could not live without the other.

‘Now, where was I?’ Lust croons. ‘I was about to send the Lieutenant to join her superior.’

The words hit Hawkeye like a ton of bricks. Her heart stops. Her head feels heavy.

‘It can’t be… You didn’t!’

One monstrous smile later and through a curse Hawkeye releases three full rounds into the demon’s chest. It doesn’t make a difference though. The woman regenerates in a flurry of red static and a hopelessness takes the place of the anger Hawkeye was feeling.

Tears run down her cheeks as the full meaning of Lust’s words finally sink in.

Strength leaves her body, Hawkeye sinks to the floor, inconsolable.

The day Mustang had thought would never come arrived. His Lieutenant was on her knees sobbing. No prompts from Alphonse could halt her. She felt the same dread that Mustang had felt mere minutes ago cauterizing Havoc’s wound, carving a Transmutation Circle into his hand.

Only now, for him, it was infinitely worse.

He, under no circumstances, could watch the people he loved die before him.

Especially not his Lieutenant.

‘You told me I couldn’t kill you but I’d like to try and prove you wrong.’ He spat at the Homunculus.

He lit the flint of the lighter to scorch the creature alive, payback for every second of pain she inflicted on his Lieutenant. It wasn’t enough. There was not enough pain in the world for this beast to endure as punishment for making Hawkeye cry.

The fire in his stomach still roared but the battle was over quickly.

‘I love how cold and focused your eyes are.’ The eery sound of her voice carried as Lust disintegrated before him. ‘I look forward…to the day when those eyes will be wide with agony.

It’s coming….

It’s coming…’

The welcoming eyes Hawkeye had once seen in her family’s kitchen were gone and replaced with cold, hard fury and torment.

Had time finally broken him?

It seems as time passed their burden only became heavier.

When Mustang woke up in the hospital, his was the only bed occupied. The one next to it was empty. The only other figure in the room was Lieutenant Hawkeye who had her arms curled around her head, leaning on his mattress from an uncomfortable looking chair.

He took a moment to steady himself.

This is fine. He told himself. This is okay. She is okay.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in his side. Lifting the blanket, he saw his lower torso was wrapped in bandages, as was his right hand.

More scars to add to the collection.

‘Sir.’ He must have woken her by shifting the covers. ‘You’re awake.’

‘So are you.’

She straightened. ‘They took you in for emergency treatment. Your wound… they said they’ve never seen anything like it. It was like you had been pierced by sharpened rods…’

‘What about Havoc?’

‘He is still in surgery.’

She doesn’t seem confident. ‘There’s no word yet.’

Mustang grinds his teeth in frustration but keeps his qualms to himself. He spares her a glance which only makes him feel worse. Her eyes are sunken in, she’s wearing the same clothes as she had during the mission, the faint smell of burnt skin hangs around her.

He can only think of one way to help her. She hates vulnerability, she hates seeming weak and he knows she needs to regroup after the ordeal they just lived through. Wash off any embarrassment she may be feeling.

‘Go home, Lieutenant.’

She doesn’t move.

‘Lieutenant – ’

‘I told you I would follow you into hell.’

He expects the look she gives him to be hard and accusing but all he sees is helplessness .

‘I meant it.’ She vows.

‘I just didn’t think there would ever be a place where I couldn’t follow.’ Her hands are clenched in her lap. She avoids his gaze. ‘When Lust said she had killed you…I thought I lost my mind.’

Tears blur her vision.

‘I can’t do this without you.’ It’s just about a whisper.

He encloses her hand with his gently and looks at her face even though she is still avoiding his.

‘You’ll never have to.’ He promises. ‘Whatever we do, whatever we achieve or don’t achieve, we will do it together.’

He bows his head slightly to get a better look at her.

‘I told you, I will always be right in front of you.’

She can’t stop the tears from falling.

‘Lieutenant Hawkeye of Central City, I order you to always stand directly behind me. I order you to always stay by my side and never leave my line of sight.’

She gives a terse nod and tightens her hand around his ever so slightly.

‘Yes, sir.’

Not many Homunculi remained. Gluttony, Wrath and Pride were the ones left standing. Though the latter two were still unknown.

They managed to foil an attempt by Gluttony. Everything seemed under control. Until.. until Colonel Mustang let’s a rumour slip that Fuhrer Bradley may be a homunculus and suddenly everything became much clearer.

Ushered into a room full of high ranking military officials, none batted an eye when Bradley turned looking like the most sinister man ever to walk the earth.

Turns out it doesn’t take more than a quick joke to find your allies and force your enemies to go looking for you.

Fuhrer Bradley showed up at the Colonel’s office the very next day. He explained that the Homunculi had been scheming since Amestris had been put on the map and they weren’t about to let one nosy Colonel destroy their lifelong goal now.

‘How would your son react if he knew his father was secretly a Homunculus fueled by the death of others?’

‘It may serve you better to guard your own weaknesses, Colonel Mustang. Else you might find yourself an army of one. It is difficult to fight a war when you have no subordinates to support you. Even if you are an alchemist.’

Bradley’s look hadn’t been dark or dangerous, his expression had always been one of pleasant imposition, nevertheless the threat had been very clear.

‘Your Lieutenant, she seems bright and talented. She was a good choice to send to the front lines.’

Mustang said nothing, he eyes only narrowed on the Fuhrer.

‘I have decided to make her my own personal assistant. I could use someone like her in my office.’

No!

‘Hawkeye has nothing to do with this.’

‘She doesn’t need to. She is your closest confidant and most loyal follower.’

There was no denying that.

Their eyes meet.

‘Consider this a warning. A hostage situation is always precarious. It would be a shame if Lieutenant Hawkeye were caught in a cross-fire.’

That was the day Mustang decided he was going to kill Fuhrer Bradley, Wrath – whatever his name was/

For threatening his Lieutenant, Bradley was going to pay.

Hawkeye was surprised when she opened her door to find Edward Elric standing there. He had come to return the pistol from his encounter with Scar. Given his experience with alchemic canon launchers, it seemed a little amusing that he held a small gun with such trepidation but Hawkeye made no comment.

She served him tea and waited.

He didn’t say anything at first, only watched her take apart her weapon and clean in skillfully.

Then he asked about Ishval.

What could she say?

Crimes were committed, ledgers painted red and no one walked away unharmed. Even those that did manage to survive.

There is something to be said about being the person that holds power the way a sniper does. That no shot ever misses its target. Ordinary battalion soldiers, they got to inflict their pain and walk away without watching the suffering they leave behind. But no sniper could turn away from their magnifying glass fast enough to avoid watching their victim fall.

It doesn’t matter. Is what she told him. Whether Colonel Mustang or she survived this ordeal didn’t matter. Whether they get imprisoned for the massacre they took part in didn’t matter. What mattered was the future of Amestris and the democracy it needed to thrive.

Colonel Mustang wanted to be the Fuhrer to change this world for the better. But he was very aware that as soon he did make those changes, they may affect him as well. Signing an order to bring peace to the Ishvalan conflict was what needed to be done. And after all, they had taken part in the war. They deserved to pay for the damage they had caused.

She thinks for a moment how young the boy is sitting in front of her and how he has had to fight a war as well. There was nothing she could do to alleviate the weight he carried, finding his place in the world and saving his brother was not something she could assist him with. So instead she listened. He told her about his fears and how he felt useless.

A great sorrow overcame her as she watched this boy, really nothing but a boy, face death over and over again and never shy away.

There’s something of the Colonel in him. She thinks quietly, screwing her gun back together.

‘You’re just dwelling on this stuff because you made it back alive. You need to focus on living.’

He looked solemn.

‘That’s how you protect her.’

That’s how you protect them all.

Roy Mustang had an itch. Not a physical itch, an emotional one… a metaphysical one. Like something bad was about to happen but he couldn’t quite tell what it was.

The cart of flowers he bought were pretty. Expensive but pretty. It didn’t scratch his itch. There, at the back of his neck his hair stood upright because he felt something.

He followed his instinct to a phonebooth and tried his best not to think about Hughes while he picked up the receiver.

He did what he always did when he called his Lieutenant, he cracked a joke and hoped it would cover up his sense of dread.

‘Hello there, Madam. It’s your friendly neighbourhood florist.’

He hears her let out a breath she was holding and even though he couldn’t see her, he knew her face was pinched. She had expected something worse.

The itch went away. A serious note enters his voice.

‘…do me a favour and take some off my hands?’

The tiniest of sighs escapes her lips. It’s enough for him to know. The moment of humour passes immediately. It is replaced with worry.

‘What’s wrong?’

No answer.

‘Did something happen?’

Her reply is a small ‘No, sir.’ And she knows he doesn’t believe her. ‘It’s nothing.’

A beat.

‘Are you sure?’ Tell me.

Her voice is monotonous. ‘Yes, sir. Everything’s fine.’

There is no use prodding her. He knows his Lieutenant well enough to avoid aggravating her further.

He pretends to buy her weak excuse of not owning a flower vase to turn down the flowers and hangs up when she bids him good-night.

Walking off his buzz, he keeps two bunches of flowers and gives the rest away. One he brings to Major General Armstrong, the second he leaves in front of Hawkeye’s door. Not even his buzz would stop him from remembering to check on her the next day.

The office seemed bigger and emptier without Hawkeye. Her presence had unknowingly filled up the space and now it felt wrong. The colleagues he had left, the ones that Wrath hadn’t banished to faraway places, all seemed downcast. As if they knew the end was near. As if they were losing their fight.

His office demeanor hadn’t changed. Perhaps it should have but he refused to replace his Lieutenant because he would not accept that it was a permanent change. Instead, he grovelled with his superiors and charmed them into giving him more time. And boy, did he use every second of it.

Working through meals had become staple.

But again, he told himself, it was not permanent.

His breathing felt a little easier when he spotted her in the cafeteria. Even sitting across from her, to see that she was alive, for now it would be enough.

He makes note of a healing cut on her cheek and sees the red marks on her wrists. If she sees him notice, she does not react.

She had always known how to wax on about things. Her undercover operations were infamous in their, his, office. She could talk her way out of anything. It was nice to hear her talk.

He listened, appearing distracted with his fountain pen, but paid close attention. He stops mid-bite when she tapped her mug against the table twice.

Listen. Up. It said.

All those days holed up on stake outs with nothing to do to pass the time helped them adapt their own form of Morse Code. It had been several years now since they had actively used it but every now and again it came in handy. His eyes met hers, he tapped his fountain pen twice.

I’m. Ready.

She recounted a bizarre story of former cadets that she grew up with, ones that were stationed out North and who knows where else. A girl name Sugar was included and other details that made for a funny tale.

In a locked bathroom stall, later, he decodes her message, he wishes he his hunch had been wrong. But he had felt it coming.

SELIM BRADLEY IS HOMONCULUS

Mustang held the burning note over the toilet and watched as his only lead turned to ash. The marks on Hawkeye’s skin made more sense now. She had run into the original Homunculus.

There were no words that could accurately describe the dread that Mustang felt when he saw his Lieutenant in a headlock. The man holding her wielded a duelling sword, his shoulder pressed against the wound in her shoulder.

‘I will not be your puppet. Do it yourself!’ He spat his words that the crazed lackey professor.

He had said the wrong thing.

The words the professor said barely reached him, Mustang had his eyes on Hawkeye the entire time. The split second they darted away, all he saw was blood and all he heard was the sound of a clean cut. Metal on skin. They had slit her throat.

He went wild.

‘Lieutenant! Lieutenant! Lieutenant!’ Pure agony filled his voice. He struggled against his hold.

‘What do say you, Mustang?’

He spat his words at the psycho, fighting the guards with every molecule in his body. ‘I’LL KILL YOU!’

‘Perform the transmutation and become the fifth sacrifice.’ That was what they ordered him to do.

The professor kept talking but none of it registered. His eyes were only on Hawkeye who was lying on the ground, hair spilled around her, her hand on her neck trying to stop the steady pool of blood growing around her.

‘I’m not gonna die.’

She’s still alive! His heart sings.

‘What you don’t know is…’ her breath is staggered ‘is that I’m under strict orders… not to die.’

The blood continued to leak from her wound, he saw her consciousness fade and the light in her eyes dim.

Your woman. That is what the professor had said when he taunted Mustang. His woman.

He ran the scenario in his head. How much sacrifice was too much to make the world a better place? Was one philosopher’s stone, that has already been created by people no longer in this world, so repulsive in its nature that it had to be shunned – even if it could save the one person that mattered? The one person he loved?

Only once before had he considered using human transmutation and back then it had been a pipe dream, a fantasy to bring back someone he missed dearly and knew he could live without but did not want to. This time … he was serious. He would not …. No, he could not live without his Lieutenant.

The only thing stopping him is her quiet beg. ‘Colonel, please.’ She shivers. ‘You don’t have to do this. Don’t sacrifice everything for my sake.’

The world be damned, none of the change he wanted mattered if he couldn’t experience it with her.

Her eyes are focused now, staring at him, right into his soul. Begging him to follow her order just this once. Until her look turns upwards. A signal.

‘Alright.’

A beat. Hawkeye fell weaker and the professor smiles wickedly.

‘Alright, Lieutenant.’ He holds her gaze and says with full confidence ‘I won’t perform the transmutation.’

Mei and others who Mustang can’t bring himself to care about hijack the professors plan and help him take down the pawns.

He runs towards the Lieutenant with all his might barely pausing to snap his fingers igniting the man that steps in his way.

He begs her to open her eyes turning her face towards him. He feels the weakness in her body, how her limbs have almost gone limp. He doesn’t even notice the solider coming at him with a sword. His eyes stay on Hawkeye the entire time. If they die, they die together.

‘Don’t you dare die! Stay with me Lieutenant!’ Please. He begs silently.

The little girl runs over intent on helping. She has Mustang lay down the Lieutenant as she draws an alkahestry circle in blood and slams kunai into the junctures. Mei lays her hands on the ground and a moment later the entire circle glows with blue electricity. Mustang can see the wound on Hawkeye’s neck clotting as the muscles get bound back together. The glow fades and for a moment nothing happens.

Then Hawkeye stirs.

He grabs her by the arms and pulls her into his chest. His breathing is as shallow as hers and he can’t stop himself from closing his eyes and laying his head on hers, just for a moment. He thanks the gods, the almighty and whoever else may be worthy for sending Mei to Central City. For saving his Lieutenant, he would be indebted to her for the rest of his life.

Mei watches the pair with fascination. They didn’t seem to realize that the battle was still waging around them. All they could see was each other, all they could feel was the other.

‘Colonel…I’m… so sorry..’

‘No, don’t speak. Just rest now.’

‘You understood my signal…I’m not sure how…but I’m glad.’

In spite of their situation, he smiles. ‘We’ve been together long enough.’

The thought warms his heart. He feels such a sense of relief, he can’t help but made a joke.

‘And besides, I know that glare. It means ‘use human transmutation and I’ll shoot you.’

He brings her to her feet and gives out thanks just as Fuhrer Bradley shows up.

A single glance in Hawkeye’s direction has Mustang tightening his grip on her shoulder.

Nothing the Fuhrer says has any impact because Mustang has found his purpose again. He has people behind him that stop him from being reckless now, people that keep him heading down the right path.

Wrath’s compliments are wrapped with venom. Mustang thinks this has got to end soon, he feels Hawkeye’s knees giving out. He’s bearing most of her weight now.

Gently, he passes her to a companion with the intention of facing Pride himself. The horrible creature that radiated darkness stood silently in front of the group by the person that was allegedly its father.

Before he could make a move though Wrath jumps at him. His alchemy misses its target and he is pushed to the ground with Wrath’s knee on his chest and his swords impaling his hands.

The sight of the swords running through his palms is almost as horrifying as Hawkeye’s scream.

What happened next compared to nothing they had ever seen before. Not Ishval, not fighting homunculi, nothing. The group watched as Pride murdered their own subordinate and used him and its shadows to create an alchemic human transmutation circle. With his hands pinned down, Roy Mustang was forced to become the fifth sacrifice

Wrath walked from the circle as if he was walking in a park and only briefly stopped to wonder ‘What will be taken from you, Roy Mustang?’

Roy woke up in an endless white room in front of a being that was made of static while simultaneously also made of nothing at all. It emitted powerful energy and though it had no eyes, Roy had the distinct feeling of being watched.

‘So you have discovered the Portal.’

The voice that spoke was eery. As if thousands of voices were combined to speak through one vessel that didn’t move at all. It cocked its head as if it were looking at a new toy.

‘And you have discovered the Truth.’

The Truth?

‘You intend to leave here alive.’

It was uncanny, the being that was sitting cross legged in front of him. Creepy even. Roy felt like his heart was being read right out of his chest.

‘You think you have a world to build. You think you are worthy of inflicting change.’

The creature unsettled something deep within him. It seemed unhinged and otherworldly.

‘What is your payment?’

Payment?

‘To open the Gate, payment must be received. Thus is the law of Equivalent Exchange.’

Roy said nothing. This was jarring. It all made sense now. The laws of equivalent exchange came from the alchemic transference in the almighty realm. The thing that was sitting in front of him… was God. For having trespassed into its territory, an alchemist must pay to repent for the greatest sin ever committed that would bring him to such heights. Human transmutation. A great deal of knowledge flooded through Roy as he felt the being look at him, waiting.

‘So being pulled through the Gate grants alchemists the ability to perform alchemy without the usual means of transmutation in exchange for a toll.’

The being smiles, revealing a set of largely comic teeth.

‘Edward paid with his limbs.’

The smile grows.

‘Alphonse paid with his body.’

‘What will you pay?’ The voices echoed through the whiteness.

Silence.

‘Will you sacrifice your vision?’

‘My vision?’

Roy thought about his goal, the world he wanted to create, foster and protect. His vision of a better future.

Impatience rang through the room, though how Roy wasn’t sure.

‘Time is up.’ The voice said. ‘Will you keep your vision even if you lose your sight?’

The rest of the battle is black. The person the Homunculi called Father is unknown to him, he only remembers the voice of the monster that inflicted so much damage. Calm, cool and collected. Disgusting.

Sig Curtis helps him step from the moving stone. He can’t see the sunlight but he feels the heat on his face.

‘Colonel!’

Relief floods his chest.

He bends down towards Hawkeye’s voice, a hand moves unconsciously in front of his eyes as if he would be able to see the movement. He feels her hand hover near his.

He can’t place her face so he keeps his eyes averted.

‘Colonel, are you injured? What’s wrong?’

Her voice is closer, she must be kneeling in front of him.

For one single second he allows grief to overcome him for what he has lost.

‘My sight is gone.’

She gasps, her mouth agog.

He pushes down any and all emotions. ‘Lieutenant, how are your injuries?’

He needs to make sure she is okay.

He hears her hold back a sob, he knows exactly what her face would look like.

‘Don’t think about me! Just worry about yourself for once!’ Her hand moves towards his eyes. ‘Your eyes…’ She sounds distraught, his eyes have grayed and they no longer shake with emotion.

‘Lieutenant.’ His voice is gruff, for a moment his hand hovers by hers. ‘Can you still fight?!’

This time her breath is not hesitant. Her resolve is clear.

‘Yes sir.’

The battle is a blur to everyone. Thinking back, he remembers Hawkeye at his back, her hands on his arm pointing him in the right direction.

He recalls thinking he’d like to have her stand this close by his side forever.

Everyone lost something that day. But many also received.

Edward lost his alchemy but as is always the case with equivalent exchange, he got something back that could only be considered comparable.

In the end, he found out he was not defined by his alchemic skill or even by the battle he won Amestris but by the love he had for his brother. Some love was so strong, it could endure even an almighty’s touch.

Alphonse Elrich returned to the living plane and reunited with his body. It would be a long time before he resembled anything close to ‘okay’ but he would get there in the end. He had his big brother and the family he found along the way. The first thing on his list was eating Winry’s apple pie and taking a good long nap.

That left our heroes, our star crossed lovers of the military. Elizabeth and her Mustang.

They both recovered, she more quickly than he, but performing human transmutation will do that to ya. Still, she never left his bedside.

When night had fallen after the battle, while Amestris still stood in shambles, Hawkeye had begged the doctors to let her stay by her Colonel’s side.

Her hospital bed was placed next to his. When he awoke after countless checks his gaze stayed towards the wall. They didn’t speak for a long time and only Hawkeye could see the moon shine through the window. It was quiet until…

‘I wish I could see your face, Lieutenant.’

He knows her better than anyone, so he knows she has tears in her eyes. Not from his comment, mostly from the ordeal they survived. Maybe a little from his comment.

‘I’ll help you get your sight back, Colonel. If it’s the last thing I do.’

‘Don’t bother.’

‘Sir!’

He hears her climb out of bed and feels her move towards him.

‘Stop.’ His word is quiet but it is final.

He reaches out in the direction he thinks she is standing and tries to find her hand.

‘I don’t need sight if I have vision. And I know what my vision is, was. I want to protect my people. You are the person I wanted to protect. If losing my eye sight means you get to live, then I will give it up a hundred times.’

A knot forms in her throat. He tugs gently until she’s sat on the edge of his bed.

‘Colonel…’

‘I may not be able to see anymore but we still have a lot of work to do, you understand? I’m going to need you right by my side throughout all of it.’

She shakes her head, her voice wavering. ‘I’ll never leave you.’

He smiles in her general direction. His hand runs up her arm until it finds her cheek.

‘Good. Because I can’t live with out you and I don’t plan to either.’

She leans into his touch.

This is fine. She thinks. Forever like this, is fine.

#bee writes #beewrites #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fic #for wendy #always for wendy

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wannawrite · 6 years ago

Text

The Royals - PWJ

who?: Wanna One’s Park Woojin genre: 🌺 type: bullet point TW: gang au

blog navigator.

The Royals PJH | PJH2 | KD | KD2

part one / two

mafia! AU

what secrets does Woojin hide up in the clouds?

kind of a soft mafia! AU for a change of scenery. Thanks for requesting anon!! Hope you guys anticipate more.

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything that is written here is purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

Park Woojin

code name: 6

nickname: Sparrow

by his friends and enemies alike

he’s deadly quiet, demure even

Woojin is the pilot in charge of The Royals fleet of private jets

no one has a clear headshot of Woojin as he always has on a dramatic fighter jet pilot’s mask

rumour has it that he’s only a boy of 20 years of age, has taupe coloured skin kissed by sun rays and a key identification factor

his snaggletooth

but that’s the only word on the street

Woojin was the most low-key member of The Royals, keeping his profile low and head hidden

no wonder he was called Sparrow

always flying off before anyone’s hand could clasp around him

fast

nimble

brown haired

speckled

another gossip column mentioned he was a good friend of Lee Daehwi, another member of The Royals

and that was how he became a key figure of the secret society realm

Woojin had always dreamt of being a pilot

when he was young, he had wanted to be an airforce pilot

lol how things have changed

his mother was a head officer in Incheon’s flight control tower

that was where the influence came from

his father had been a pilot

a little love story bloomed from there

obviously, they married and had two children

it was a happy family of four, all enthralled by the idea of jetting through the clouds

one day, a tragic accident had claimed his life

Woojin was a bit too young to remember specific details but he had a calling to fulfil his late father’s legacy

he wanted to succeed his father’s wish for him to continue flying planes

a national airforce fighter jet pilot would have been ideal

but he was happy to settle for the position of head pilot of Seoul’s notorious mafia

Woojin was sent to pilot school when he was a middle school student

only when he was a high schooler did he start practicing and honing his skills with real planes

small delivery planes that is

cute

Woojin was the kind of guy who took photos with every plane he had piloted

every single one of them were kept in an album in his mother’s house

yes, his cute snaggletooth was featured in ALL of them

his sister would scrapbook some candids and send them over to The Royals HQ in Seoul

sparrow’s scrapbooks were the talk of the town

Woojin was in charge of a lot of things

excessive things

almost too much

but he loved his job and lived for the thrill of flying

whether it was a goods plane, passenger plane, he just adored piloting planes

oh and it wasn’t exactly hard to renew his license when he had contacts in the business

occasionally, Woojin traveled back to his flying school to assist teachers

or take more classes since he is 20

still gaining knowledge

well, that’s how you got to know him

when you were young, your grandfather would tell you stories of the days when he was a fighter pilot

a pilot

he met your grandmother during his flying days as well

fascinated by his stories and tales, you too were determined to pilot plane

it was difficult

your parents did not favour this idea and your grandparents were your only supporters

in secret, they coached you on whatever knowledge they had

wings, propellor...fly!

you spent hours and hours poring over ancient plane encyclopedias, enriching your mind and spurring on your motivation

and then one day, your grandparents came home with an enrolment letter

into pilot school :D

you screamed and cried with joy

then worried about how your parents would react but your grandparents gave 0 f*cks

they the realest

‘just go, we know people there who will treat and teach you with the best of their abilities.’

and so you started to attend classes in secret

hehe hehe

it was all good

your coach loved you

your love for the planes and even theory classes was unexplainable

not one of your parents knew what you did almost every day after school

until you nearly crashed a plane and were severely hurt

that’s when your parents found out and damn...it wasn’t exactly a pretty scene

the amount of yelling and screaming was enough to shake the whole hospital

you had cried so much that the IV drip had to be replaced TWICE

idk if its a thing but it now is

though it took some time, they finally opened up to the idea of piloting

they managed to see things from a different perspective and wrap their head around it

and now they fund your studies :D

okay, so now the fun starts

you knew Woojin as Park Woojin, the guy from pilot school

your classmate

who is kind of too advanced for your class

Idk what game he playing

if someone asked you about him, you would say y’all talked

but not a lot

considering his attendance had been quite hectic and intermittent

and you did hear some fishy theories about him from the gossipers

Jenna claimed that he worked with the local gang, operating planes so he could import drugs from overseas

sounds a bit dumb but believable ??

you don’t trust Jenna anyway

but her words linger in your mind, unable to dissipate

just simple, harmless gossip

another source stated Woojin was a spy for the FBI, making sure not a single soul could leave the country so easily with their own plane

crazy

how much time do these people have?

you noticed that Woojin was close to many of the staff and instructors

definitely not trying to start your own theory here

he was a person to be curious about, intriguing

just your luck, Woojin ended up being your flying buddy for a term

idk hOw thIS WORKS SO IT GONNA WORK THIS WAY

quite an awkward pairing if you must say

but your instructor liked how you trusted your theory work and equipment, eyeing every reading carefully

he thought it would be a good match for Woojin, who trusted his own instinct but was a firm and steady pilot

day one: silence filled the space between the two of you

the instructor gave y’all an hour to read the manual, study, bond whatnot

yet, half of that was spent buried in books and theory videos

safety books

going over basics

reading about gear care

even though you knew Woojin was an expert in those aspects

there was just no talking

shhhh

quieter than your school’s library

that was most people’s impression of the quiet and cunning little sparrow, tricking people into thinking he’s demure and secretive

see, that’s how all those ludicrous rumours are born

finally, you just HAD to engage in conversation

THE SILENCE WAS JUST TOO STRANGLING

but he was hard to talk to

woojin barely said three words before the conversation lapsed

you pressed your lips together, unsure of what to do

you started to scribble, drawing cartoonish planes and clouds

that was when Woojin commented that your plane looked more like a bird

‘pfp...see if you can draw any better,’ you challenged

Woojin took another pencil from your case

‘Try me.’

And so that’s how you spent your ‘study session’

Since you do have quite a competitive spirit

You brought a whole ass portfolio of drawings the next day

Just so Woojin could get a taste of his competition

Banter, banter

After leafing through yours, he pulled out his own digital file of sketches

And his own little scrapbook

+2 for artistic talent

soon, the piles of non-work related books were growing in your locker

there were a couple more pencil scribbles on the picnic table

other students found rough paper with sketches almost everywhere

even on mock test papers

eventually, your instructor realised something was terribly off when both of you failed the month’s test

as punishment, you guys had to do clean up duty

and more homework

taking away your hands-on flying class for a month

but it was fun

partners in crime play together

partners in crime die together

so slogging after class was much more enjoyable in the company of each other

plus, the ice cream feast after was always rewarding

you guys would purposely take a long route to the bus stop to pick up convenience store ice cream

woojin would try to convince you that his flavour choice was much better

time was killed with the playful banter at the bus stop

many times you found yourself wanting to ask about all the rumours circulated about him

but you realised that Woojin was that kind of guy who would make a joke out of it

and take words like those lightly

bonus!

he had a great sense of humour

variety king

days resembling those wore on

but you were never tired of them

and it seemed like he wasn’t either

every occasion was constantly different from the previous one

another flavour of ice cream to sample

more areas to ‘clean-up’

messing around with the coaches

days at the academy were always divergent

so it was weird when Woojin didn’t show up one day

that time you managed to shrug off the anxieties and assumptions

then, he disappeared for two following days

that you definitely couldn’t ignore

you didn’t attend the same school as him and no one else at the academy knew him very well

when coaches were questioned, they seemed uninterested but assured of his safety

‘Don’t worry,’ said your instructor. ‘Woojin knows his way around things. Perhaps he just hasn’t been feeling very well.’

mhm

you watched how his irises flickered from yours to the surroundings

and back

any trace of uncertainty was erased when you took a second glance

‘Anyway, I have his assignment folder. Could you pass it to him for the summer? Thanks.’

‘Make sure it gets to him safely. Don’t pass it to a third party.’

his footsteps quickened as they grew more and more out of earshot

you scoffed in disbelief, feeling the effects of being alone while everyone else was buddied up

how were you ever going to find Woojin?

His mobile phone was turned off too

or he just wasn’t responding to your texts

you: hi woojin

you: I have your work file

you: can we meet so I can pass it to you?

you: you okay? haven’t seen you in a while

woojin hadn’t read those messages

Sighing, you closed the application and continued with your classes

forcing yourself to pay attention to content was harder when Woojin wasn’t around

every moment you swore that your phone buzzed in your pocket

unfortunately, it was just your imagination

there were no texts from him even at the end of the day

you fell asleep that night with an uneasy heart full of worries

woojin: yeah of course

woojin: Thanks btw

woojin: sorry about it

woojin: aha you won’t see this asap since its 2am

woojin: but tell me where to find you tomorrow

what a debonair comment from him

is that even an adjective to describe a phrase?

your face feels a bit warm

stop making a big deal out of nothing!!!

you: how about 11am at the Starbucks near my place

you text him the address

shockingly, Woojin’s response is immediate

Woojin: see you :)

a smiley face

what does this mean?

he’s happy to get his work, that’s what it means

calm down

the red alarm clock reads 8.30am

there’s time to freshen up

there’s also time for you to imagine every possible outcome of this meeting

which is taking place outside of class time

would it be awkward?

strange?

don’t overthink this

after much deliberation, you make it to Starbucks 15 minutes before the agreed time

all is calm at your seat near the window, drink on your table

and clutching Woojin’s file so closely as if it would grow legs and run away

then, two young men approach your table

‘Hi,’ one of the voices said. ‘You’re here for Woojin, aren’t you?’

you’re hesitant to answer, wondering what sort of relationship Woojin would have with them

your reply is cut off by the other guy speaking

he chuckles

‘I’m Jeno and he’s Jaemin. We’re Woojin’s friends and he sent us to collect his work,’ he says.

you observe how he hides his hands behind his back, how he presses his lips together too often

liar

Don’t give it to a third party

pass it to him personally

Jaemin’s hands reach for the file. ‘Now if you just-‘

‘I don’t think so.’ Your words slice through the tension. ‘Woojin is supposed to collect it from me himself.’

The message sent is clear

Don’t f*cking touch this file

Jaemin’s jaw seems to clench while Jeno begins to crack his knuckles

‘Well,’ Jaemin begins, his arms retreating. ‘Woojin has something to attend to so he called us to get it. It was a last minute arrangement.’

Jeno scrolls through his phone, pulling up ‘Woojin’s’ texts

The messages are indeed are from a contact called Woojin, he lacks an avatar though

‘I’ll message him right now.’

however, messages from him rain in

Woojin: hey if anyone with the names Jaemin and Jeno talk to you, get away

Woojin: i didn’t send them, we don’t get along

Woojin: even if you don’t encounter them, I need you to go home this instant

Woojin: I’m so sorry, I can’t meet you today

his texts confirm your suspicions but now you’re curious about his relationship with them

How long could teenage boys hold grudges for anyway?

you: i’m talking to them rn

you: ...what should I do

you: jaemin’s pretty adamant about getting your stuff

Woojin: shit

Woojin: one of my friends is nearby, his name is Jaehwan

Woojin: go with him

Woojin: now, go to the barista and tell them you want a cupful of whipped cream with chocolate sauce

you look up from your phone, a bit taken aback by the information

your guard is well up now

‘Well?’ Jaemin almost hisses before he catches himself

‘Hmm, I’m waiting for his reply. He wants me to order him a coffee.’

your heart wants to thump out of your chest

even your lips begin to dry

something just isn’t right

your brain and body aren’t reacting positively

As the last word leaves your lips, the barista whispers into a well-concealed in-ear

out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of the employees ripping her apron off and tossing it into the bushes

she was outside of the store, clearing dishes from the outdoor seating area

when she draws close, she makes a noise about not seeing you in a long time

but her eyes watch Jaemin and Jeno in the back

It’s to throw them off

Good plan

who came up with it?

the two mysterious boys grow increasingly irritated

it shows clearly in their actions

furious whispers

side glares

constant drumming of fingers

the girl’s eyes flicker over your shoulder for barely a second

an unnoticeable look

‘Jaehwan’s here,’ she says just as the bell chimes

‘You’re in good hands now.’

her smile is genuine and so is her embrace

you and Jaehwan don’t even exchange a slither of a greeting

in fact, you can’t catch your breath as the same lady ushers you out through the kitchen door

it’s only a matter of seconds before Jaemin and Jeno are alerted of your disappearance

that’s when their rage would be on the loose

Jaehwan frantically bundles you into a nearby car

honestly, you aren’t convinced he’s the best company

perhaps better than the previous Js

‘Where’s Woojin?’ you heave out. ‘I need to talk to him.’

Jaehwan begins to exit the parking lot, sunglasses on.

‘Sorry, reaching him will take a while. And, sorry for the suddenness of everything. You must be...surprised.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ you blurt out. ‘I’m utterly confused and terrified!’

‘I don’t even know where I’m going and who’s taking me!’

all your emotions are in a jumbled mess

being with Jaehwan feels like sitting in a lion’s den but with a metal cage surrounding you

safer but not wholly

staying with Jeno and Jaemin would mean the lions would have devoured you before your feet even reached the bottom of the pit

Woojin didn’t answer any of your calls

Jaehwan notices your hopeless attempts at contacting your friend

‘I’m sorry, he isn’t available at this moment.’

‘And why the hell not! He told me to meet him! He doesn’t have any plans! He could’ve come to meet me! I just want to give him his work file!’

The outburst makes you feel a ton better

Like the bag of bricks, you carried had been carrying was thrown at someone you hated

Suddenly, the road sign reading ‘Incheon Airport’ catches your attention

especially when Jaehwan seems to be en route

‘Why are we headed to the airport?’ You question, unsure if you want an answer

‘We’re going to see Woojin,’ Jaehwan replies casually.

‘W-w-we’re going out of the country?’ The stutter is inevitable

Jaehwan appears to furrow his brow as if puzzled

‘Um...yeah. Jihoon and Sejeong will deal with your accommodation,’ he informs, not that it is very helpful

Who and who?

‘Does Woojin even tell you anything?’ Jaehwan asks as he drives to the airport carpark

He shakes his head in disapproval when you answer with a ‘no’

‘I don’t have my passport,’ you say

your words don’t even affect Jaehwan, he simply says that a Kang Daniel has got you covered

again, who, what and how?

‘C’mon. Let’s go. I’m sure Woojin has all the answers to your questions.’

Jaehwan pushes your back, urging you to move quicker

‘What the hell,’ he curses under his breath. ‘Hurry up, I see...uh, J and J allies.’

there isn’t time

Plus, you don’t have the courage to turn around and glare them in the eye

Contrary to your assumption, Jaehwan skirts around the ‘Private Jet’ counter and settles for a commercial flight queue

he says something about it being too risky to dispatch one of his company’s private jets

the jets come as no shock

After all, Woojin does needs his planes

it’s likely his close friends are all like-minded and share the same interests

Jaehwan speedily dashes for the ‘First Class’ row

he speaks to the counter staff in such a quiet tone even you can’t decipher his words

‘Don’t worry about your passport, I have connections.’

don’t actually do this!!!

that makes your stomach clench and twist with nerves in the most horrid manner

somehow

your passport appears

it isn’t a replica, it isn’t a faux document

it’s in the flesh

...did someone break into your house?

‘Yeah,’ Jaehwan answers your unspoken question. ‘Of course someone stole this from your tabletop. You need to get better security.’

you face blushes red in embarrassment

'I’m a pilot,’ you manage a counter attack

your new friend only chuckles

jumping snaking immigration queues is something you could accustom yourself to

ahhh, the luxuries

soon, you’ll be able to join the ‘CREW ONLY’ line

Before you know it, you’re seated in the first class section of a reputable airline

woah

this is new

you don’t want to know where Jaehwan or Woojin or whoever has the money to pay for all this

then again, these people own a fleet of private jets

Jaehwan advises you to chill and enjoy the flight

but the bundle of nerves only tightens in your stomach

You’re on your way to Hong Kong

with a small bag of essentials and the clothes on your back

Jaehwan’s in the same situation

yet he seems so used to it, there’s no point being anxious

tbh you’d rather pilot the plane than ride in it

why would Woojin be in Hong Kong?

did he fly there on impulse?

does he even know the route?

he did just receive his pilot licence......

no, he couldn’t possibly

it sounded like a hasty getaway

A sudden change of plans

as if he was in trouble.....

Who are these people Jaehwan mentioned?

Is Woojin hiding anything from me?

Of course he is! Jaehwan knows but he feels that only Woojin has the right to tell me

besides, he’s asleep

how can he be sleeping at a time like this?

it’s barely 2pm

the day is going just fine

hopefully, things start looking up from here

Hong Kong...

Woojin...

I’m coming for ya

#Admin L #wanna one #wanna one scenarios #Produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #park woojin

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darling-in-the-fandom · 7 years ago

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i was tagged by @2kgayteen

rules: answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people.

1. last drink: C O F F E E E E E E (i drink way too much)

2. last phone call: my dad

3. last text message: idk when my last text was but the last message i sent was to my bff on discord

4. last song you listened to: gotta go my own way (still hits me in the feels)

5. last time you cried: like 5 minutes ago reading a fic and being assaulted by all these sad songs playing on shuffle on spotify (r00d)

6. dated someone twice? honey, i haven’t even dated someone once

7. kissed someone and regretted it? nope

8. been cheated on? hell nah

9. lost someone special? yeah :/

10. been depressed? fuck yeah, im depressed right now! have been for nearly two months! :))

11. gotten drunk and thrown up? i’ve been drunk, yeah, but not enough to throw up…yet

fave colours:

12. green

13. blue

14. red

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends? yes! a few, surprisingly

16. fallen out of love? what is love? i don’t know her

17. laughed until you cried? so fucking much

18. found out someone was talking about you? …not that i know of? im not worth talking about tbh

19. met someone who changed you? kind of? i mean, she kinda inspires me to start believing in myself and to stop being so negative all the time? it’s a work in progress.

20. found out who your friends are? yeah

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list? lmao i’ve never been kissed, so that’s a HELL NO

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl? most of them, since they’re classmates…and then there’s, like, one online friend

23. do you have any pets? a DOGGO called texas which??? is a v weird name for an italian greyhound??? but he belongs to my sister, so, yeah, that makes sense

24. do you want to change your name? no thanks

25. what did you do for your last birthday? i had an ASSESSMENT on my last birthday and it was the first day back at school after the holidays. so i spent the morning at home memorising my speech (it was about how we shouldn’t have a plebiscite for gay marriage) and then in the afternoon i gave my speech and i fucking nailed it (all those hours crying and stressing wasted, apparently). then in the evening dad and i watched skam s3 while drinking champagne and getting emo. good times.

26. what time did you wake up today? like 6:30

27. what were you doing at midnight last night? sleeping. how boring. just like me :D

28. what is something you cant wait for?

29. what are you listening to right now? shuffle just started playing NOW OR NEVER from HSM3—my favourite song :)

30. have you ever talked to a person named tom? yeah. my uncle, one of my dad’s friends, and then a family friend’s son: all toms.

31. something that’s getting on your nerves? my writing :))

32. most visited website: AO3 and imgur—fanfic and memes are the loves of my life

33. hair colour: brown

34. long or short hair: short

35. do you have a crush on someone? what’s a crush? idk her

36. what do you like about yourself? my bizarre sense of humour bc that’s the only reason i have any friends rn. other than that, don’t think i’ve got too much going for me lol

37. want any piercings? nope. im way too chicken for that stuff.

38. blood type: i…have no idea.

39. nicknames: sass/sassy, super sassy, sassy sausage, the crumbler, and my personal fave: special fred

40. relationship status: SINGLE would rather not mingle thnaks

41. zodiac: cancer

42. pronouns: she/her

43. fave tv shows: skam, bones, game of thrones, stranger things, avatar: the last airbender, buffy the vampire slayer, angel, star wars: the clone wars, outlander

44. tattoos: don’t have any, would love a darth vader one though ksdjfkdjsf

45. right or left handed: right

46. ever had surgery: nope

47. piercings: none

48. sport: dancing (ballet) for most of my childhood, and hockey for like one year.

49. vacation: i really wanna go to norway (the dream) and scotland and go to america again

50. trainers: ???

more general

51. eating: rn? chocolate. specifically toblerone. a huge block. probably not helping me lose weight but oh well.

52. drinking: C O F F E E E E E E (i need help)

53. im about to watch: im probably going to rewatch some shane dawson videos. my fave thing to do when im depressed. i love shane.

54. waiting for: CLASSES TO START bc im going a creative writing degree and a part-time acting course and im so fucking excited it’s gonna be good

55. want: to lose some weight, to get my shit together, to be more confident in my writing

56. get married: yike. no thnaks :/

57. career: the dream would be as an actress. or just anything in the entertainment industry. i fucking love performing arts.

which is better

58. hugs or kisses: hugs!

59. lips or eyes: eyes

60. shorter or taller: either

61. older or younger: im…assuming this is for dating, so both, i guess? depends how much older/younger

62. nice arms or stomach: arms all the way

63. hookup or relationship: :/ not really keen on either…

64. troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant, i guess

have you ever:

65. kissed a stranger: no

66. drank hard liquor: ohhh yes

67. lost glasses: …yep

68. turned someone down: lmao no bc no one is interested in me :))

69. sex on first date: nope

70. broken someone’s heart: don’t think so.

71. had your heart broken: yeah :/

72. been arrested: no

73. cried when someone died: yeah

74. fallen for a friend: yes

do you believe in:

75. yourself: lol no :/ but im trying

76. miracles: no

77. love at first sight: no

78. santa claus: definitely not

79. kiss on a first date: sure

80. angels: yes, i believe in tarjei sandvik moe

other

81. best friend’s name: MACK

82. eye colour: hazel

83. fave movie: SPACEBALLS

84. fave actor: i have a whole laundry list of actors i love, but my absolute faves are tarjei sandvik moe and henrik holm!

im gonna tag: @evensdramaticshenanigans @vildenooras @u-pside-d-own @valtermeme

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misformarvel · 7 years ago

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Aristocrat! AU P. 4

Summary: idk you’ve to read, lol.

A/N: sorry for being a lazy fuck and take so long to write this and for making it so short. I’m not having the best of days so maybe I’ll take a break from writing this, or anything really. Is not definitive but I need a pause.

Warnings: I’m not sure, this is weird. Maybe there’s some cursing, as usual.

- “I’m not sure how it happened but I fell in love with Y/N mother. And I don’ feel comfortable knowing this is part of his plans to become even more powerful. I don’t want to be involved with it anymore”.

- “I’m glad your marriage with Y/N doesn’t represent a heavy load for you anymore, she’s a good person”. She talked to me again but her tone remained distant and cold.

- “You’re not going to help me with this? Not even for her, she cares about you. You’re like a mother to her for god's sake”.

Rage coming in waves, my mother’s indifference pushed me to the limit. I needed to leave that house, even when I was so tired of getting away. Besides, what would I do? If I tell Y/N my father forced me to woo her to ensure our marriage how’d she react. Now my father got the power to tell her and even when the wedding would take place anyways, Y/N will hate me and I’ll never get her back.

It was pouring rain. I walked along London streets without a place to go, people stared at me as if I was a kook, all damped and looking to nowhere. Soon I realize where I was. Standing at the door of an old pub I used to frequent when I got tired of fighting with my father and needed a place to hide away. Just like now, just as pathetic.

I entered to the dark, smokey little place and sat at the bar. I was surprised at how nothing changed in that place, it been yonks since the last time I was there. Something about everything still being the same comforted me, especially when I saw the young lad who used to carry me away when completely pissed and out of my mind I was unable to come back home on my own.

- “Hello mate, d’ya remember me?”

-”Tom?” the young lad throw away the dishcloth he was using to clean up the table to greet me with a vehement handshake. “God man, we thought you might be dead by now, no offence”. His sense of humour was also the same. we giggled and he gave me a pint of ale. “First one on me, but you’ve to paid for the next, I know you got the money”.

I spent hours catching up with Jacob, talking about all the crazy stuff I’ve experienced in the two years and a half I was away from London.

- “I didn’t know what to do, where to put my hands you know. And it’s not like I’m an impressionable person but, a kid, you know, we were bringing a fucking kid into this world right inside of a bus”.

-”Nah mate, you’re making up this one. You couldn’t assist a delivered in a bus, is like one of those bad medical dramas’ scenes” Jacob shrieked. I nodded, letting a hiccup out I continue my story.

-”I swear to god I did. Sure, I wasn’t the only one helping but the woman was sat beside me, I had no option”.

-”Good you were sober”, Jacob and I made a toast for it. “Hot blond girl at your right has her eyes glued on you since she arrived mate, you should give it a shot”.

-”Shame. I’m not a free man”.

-”No way man! Did d’you tied the knot? Who’s the poor lady?”

- “We’re not married yet. Engaged”.

-”Don’t tell me is the girl your dad wanted you to marry when you left”.

I nodded in response. It wasn’t the reason I left, but what motivated me to do something terrible, and that forced me to leave.

- “We get to know each other this summer. She’s a keeper.”

-”Pfff, really? Lady Y/N? Do you know your future wife calls the King uncle? It’s a catch man. And no offence mate but your bird is fit”.

- “There’s no offence man, here’s to that”.

It was good to met someone nice and chill as Jacob. It really helped me with the tension I carry from sharing the last days with my parents. Talk to him about Y/N made me realize how much I missed her. And is not as I didn’t feel it before, but the tension I’ve been living in the house kept my mind busy in trying to not commit a parricide or something like that.

I headed back to the house, even when I knew it was a terrible idea and I might have another argument with my parents. When I got there I found Lord Marlborough’s car a the entrance. It wasn’t strange at all, but I’d really wished it wasn’t true.

Time goes by slowly in the Marlborough’s estate. I missed London, I missed going out with the twins, help Mrs Holland planning her events, go shopping with Laura, taking Nana to have tea in the best places in the capital. But now the thing I missed the most was, certainly, spending time with Tom. And he hasn’t even called me, I feel stupid when I think about it.

Here everything is boring and I’m being forced to be a polite host of two people I loathe. Even when I asked him to leave the palace and go back to his flat on campus, Harrison stayed along with his repugnant uncle. Lord Devonshire walked around my estate as it was his own, giving orders to Nana and the rest of the service. His cheeky smile gave me nausea, his attempts to give me a good impression only makes me dislike him more. The worst part is he seems to gain Nana’s affection, talking to her about how close my mother and his used to be, and his memories of the palace from when he was a little child and my mother and father -childless by the moment- invited him to spend the summers here.

Oxford is not that bad after all. I’m still not having “friends” but I don’t need them. After all, I have the twins and Laura, they may not be here but we’re constantly on the phone. it is jolly evident none of us could leave the boarding school days behind. University was my refuge from the hostile air I breathed back home. I’m focused on my studies and pleased to find politics even more interesting than I thought, after all, and even when I don’t want to think about it, one day my father will be gone and I’ll have to take his place.

I was still very intrigued by the names in Thomas’ note and the connection it could have with his expulsion from the University. It didn’t surprise me at all to find that the lads who hang out with Augustus Remington were on the list as well. Cassius Hiponilema, an assistant in my “Introduction to jurisprudence” course, was on the list too. It did surprise me, he seemed to be a quite nice person, not someone who belongs to a “pit of snakes” as Tom said. At the moment I have four names of a list of nine. Augustus Remington, Alloicious Harden-Smith, Ben Bradley and Cassius. To be completely honest, the only weird thing I found on Cassius is the interest he has in Harrison. The man is all over him and is not like Harrison is the brightest student, in fact, when we were still friends he confessed to me it bored him to death. I don’t know, maybe he’s gay and he just fancies Harrison, which wouldn’t be weird because he might be a liar and an asshole, but he got the looks.

I don’t talk to him in our classes, but I find out I’ve to pretend everything is fine between us in my house, to avoid Nana’s inquisition. So, when we’re having dinner with his uncle and Harriet, Harrison and I talk about things that have happened through the day as if we spent it together. He even laughs at my jokes and includes me in his stories. It disconcerts me how natural it feels. I’m still mad at him but I think I might be too harsh on him for what he did. He was down to tell me “the full story” and I just wanted to kick him out of my estate. He wanted to be my friend and I prefered to stay alone, sneaking in the shadows to solve a mystery no ones really cares about anymore -as in nowhere else, Tom was completely irrelevant in Oxford and nobody even remembered what happened-. I’m getting tired to be angry. I’m getting tired to be alone.

Tags: @@clairesrainbow , @tomhollandimangines , @kyritha

#aristocrat! tom au #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #Jacob Batalon #harry holland #sam holland #Laura Harrier

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onlyfools-fall-foryou · 8 years ago

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my long overdue skam appreciation post 👏👏👏

Skam is such an amazing show. The filming is so unique (somehow subtly giving a different feel than anything I’ve ever seen. not too cliche, not too offsetting) and the colors are (subtly but intensely) pretty, and I love the mix between texts and real situations they alternate onscreen. the angles they filmed it really gets me too, like when the characters are lying together, you can see what’s going on and their interactions from all the angles they film it at.

this post will be heavily spoilery. i’m gonna start of with seasons 1 and 2. those two seasons are so raw and real, especially eva’s season, we can all relate to her and what she feels when she’s alone in the school yard, personally I related to Eva a lot because my parents are rarely home and I have to do everything for myself and my brother. I’m not as lonely as her when I’m home because I have my brother, but I guess his company is the equivalent of eva’s friends like the squad and jonas, isak who are over often.

they put little details out of the camera’s focus (in season 3, at the start of episode 5, you can see even’s arm behind isak and i thought that was someone walking in but realized it was even stroking isak *squeal* and the gigantic hickey at the back of even’s neck in epi 8).

the music is timed perfectly, mixed with a bit of humour. in season 1, after eva finds out about isak, the music kicks in with ‘jealousy’ and I thought that was really freaking perfect. (not to mention the ‘i wanna fuck you’ of season 2.) i love how they cut music off abruptly with cues like the door closing, it really signifies the change of the character’s mood and emotional state, and the song choices are spot on.

In season 3, there’s a lot of romeo and juliet 1996 songs. I love romeo and juliet and i loved that season 3 was heavily indulgent with elements from it (like the pool make out, songs, that eye contact they have in episode 2). it makes me very happy.

i love how they treat the major/minor and minor/minor characters. the major/minor characters in season 2 and 3 would be eskild and linn, and in 1 it would be someone like ingrid. also did anyone else notice magnus in season 1 because i saw him a couple times when i was watching it again like when vilde comes to the party and passes out magnus rushes to help her etc. for the next two seasons, we don’t see a lot of ingrid and sara, but they’re still there dancing at parties or there on school grounds. i love the fact that they keep them barely in attention (does that line make any sense lol), other shows don’t really care to do that with their minor/minor characters. whenever there’s a party scene (end of s2, start of s3) i rewatch again and again to see that little bits of ingrid, iben, etc. linn and eskild having fun at the end of s2 makes my life. (also, ingrid and iben are really beautiful. (as minor characters.) just wanted to put that out there.)

they really have details that are unnoticeable and noticeable at the same time. and the acting and chemistry is so superb, and it’s real. not only with the romantic partners, but with friends like the boys’ gang and the girls’ gang and eskild/linn/isak, eskild/linn/noora, what really got to me this season was isak texting eskild that everything was fucked and eskild just responding with jeg kommer, i’m coming. just that. not to mention the way the squad is there for every one of them consistently. everyone taking noora to the police and standing behind her while she gives her statement, sana comforting vilde while she nervously talks to the kosegruppa, jonas, magnus, mahdi actually caring and constantly asking about even, the girls cleaning vilde up and making her breakfast in season 1. i don’t know if i’ll ever get friends/people that genuinely care for me, and their relationships are beautiful.

it’s unbelievably (compared to other shows) real, like, we’ve all taken the am i gay? test and taken advice from reddit. the way they actually use things we actually use like instagram, facebook, texting etc makes it more real and the way they treat these sensitive subjects delicately without tiptoeing around it is just amazing.

not to mention it being humorous and witty, like when magnus breaks the fourth wall and gives a shoutout to nrk, when isak and even get caught in the pool, eva pushing jonas off the bed and jonas flipping her off when her mom gets home, these are just a couple humourous bits that were particularly memorable to me but there are so many more.

in the end, my favorite part about it is that it relies on the audience to be smart enough. a lot of movies that i recently saw did not do this (cough fantastic beasts cough). maybe it’s because i’ve spent countless hours watching things and now i can predict everything, but most movies tend to feed me little bits of information at a time or give me just enough that it won’t be boring, but skam gives me a lot of information and trusts us to follow along, idk. to think about it, skam’s story isn’t that complicated, is it? but i somehow feel like there’s so much more information and story than what is presented, maybe it’s because it’s so emotionally charged or maybe because it’s packed full with metaphors and references (bible, romeo + juliet, even talking about sonja’s “aluminum leg” being a metaphor to his bipolar disorder), but it feels like a lot and the writers do a beautiful job of giving us the right amount of information.

(last bit, i love that when they wake up it actually looks like they’ve been sleeping)

3 words to describe it: raw, real, relatable.

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subjisoo · 8 years ago

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Check In chapter 7

Words: 2.1k

Genre: ??? idk drama? angst? not sure yet lol

Synopsis: Seungcheol and his best friend Wonwoo have been running a small drug dealing business for the past two years, along with Wonwoo’s boyfriend Mingyu on the books and new recruit Hansol to manage the second hand shop they use as a cover story.

This Chapter: A bit of platonic Hansol/Mingyu action which honestly ???? I really enjoyed writing them together they've very cute bless

Warnings: homophobia mentions

Author’s Note: based on the MV for Check In which I edited into a kind of trailer for this fic and u can watch it here.

Check In: chapter one / two / three / four / five / six / read on ao3

Mikyung was a lot shorter than her son, but even more intimidating. Hansol had just gotten back from his lunch break and was opening up the till when the door opened.

She walked briskly to the till and Hansol stood to greet her, extending his hand. “You must be Mikyung, I’m Hansol. Nice to meet you.”

Her grip was firm as she shook his hand. “Where is my son?”

“Upstairs.”

As Hansol turned to point to the stair case, Seungcheol ran down it, almost tripping over the last two steps. He held out his arms to Mikyung.

“Ajumma!” he pulled her into a hug and she laughed.

Pulling back from him, she held his arms and looked him up and down. “Seungcheol, you’re growing up nicely! How are your parents?”

“They’re good. They’ve been asking about you as well.”

“I must get in touch with them, I’ve been meaning to for a while now.”

Seungcheol caught sight of Hansol watching them from the till. He put a hand on Mikyung’s shoulder and gestured towards Hansol.

“This is Hansol, he’s our employee.”

Hansol knew that Mikyung thought Wonwoo was straight, but it hurt him a little when Seungcheol referred to him as just an employee.

Mikyung regarded him, then turned back to Seungcheol. “You may want to rethink that; he has a weak handshake.” She patted Seungcheol’s shoulder and walked past him up the stairs. “I’m going to see my son.”

“Okay, I’ll be up in a moment,” Seungcheol called after her. When he turned back to Hansol his face had changed.

He moved to lean on the till, groaning. Hansol sat down again.

“That was something.”

Seungcheol dragged his hands down his face and looked at Hansol through his fingers. “Sorry I had to say you were just an employee. She’d tell my parents.”

“That’s okay, I get it.”

Seungcheol looked over his shoulder at the stairs, lowering his voice when he turned back. “You might not want to hang around up stairs while she’s here. It gets messy.”

As if on cue, Wonwoo thudded down the stairs, Mikyung yelling after him from upstairs. He ignored Hansol and Seungcheol as he all but ran out of The Shop, slamming the door behind him.

“Shit, sorry babe I gotta deal with this.”

Hansol leant forward for a kiss, but Seungcheol was already heading towards the stairs. His voice faded as he ascended the stairs, shutting the door at the top of them. The Shop was suddenly very quiet and Hansol felt very isolated as he waited for something to happen.

It was half an hour before Mingyu came down stairs and into The Shop. Hansol stood up on instinct, only sitting down when Mingyu was standing by the till. He pulled the spare stool out and sat on it, leaning over to rest his head on Hansol’s shoulder. After freezing a little, Hansol relaxed and put an arm awkwardly around Mingyu to help support him.

“How is it up there?”

Mingyu groaned. “Homophobic. I don’t know how Seungcheol does it; acting like what she did was good and actually encouraging it.”

Hansol shrugged with the shoulder that wasn’t occupied by Mingyu’s head. “I guess it’s just a way of surviving.”

Mingyu lifted his head with a sigh. “Do your parents know?”

Hansol nodded. “My aunt got married to her wife in New Zealand recently, but they’ve been engaged for like, sixteen years. So I guess it was normalised in my family.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t think I ever really came out to them, I just told them I was seeing someone and it happened to be a guy and they were fine with it.”

Mingyu nodded. “That’s pretty ideal. Congratulations to your aunt, by the way.”

Hansol smiled, the warm, proud feeling welling up in his chest. “Yeah, she’s really happy. What about you though?”

“I mean there was no aunt, but I came out to them when I was fourteen as bi and my mum came out back to me.”

“She’s bi?”

“Yeah. Turns out I’m not, and my dad is still a bit weird about it sometimes, but it’s not bad, you know?”

“Yeah. We’re pretty lucky really.”

Mingyu sighed, reaching over and holding Hansol’s hand. “Very lucky.”

Hansol looked down at their hands, not sure what do to about it. He decided it was just a friendly gesture and that Mingyu needed support, so he went with it, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.

They sat in silence holding hands for ten minutes before Wonwoo got back. He stepped inside and held the door open for a girl around Hansol’s height. She stopped just inside the door, staring at Hansol and Mingyu as they still held hands.

Wonwoo shut the door and walked over to the till, placing a hand on it and looking at the ceiling. “Where is she?”

“Still up there, Seungcheol’s talking to her.” Mingyu tightened his grip on Hansol’s hand a little.

Wonwoo looked back to Mingyu, leaning forward to kiss him. Hansol averted his eyes, catching sight of the girl behind Wonwoo. She smiled at him and he returned it, wanting to introduce himself but feeling weird about doing it while holding Mingyu’s hand as he made out with Wonwoo.

When they finished, Wonwoo straightened up. “This is Hyejin. Hyejin this is Mingyu and Seungcheol’s boyfriend Hansol.”

Hyejin stepped forward, nodding politely to the two of them. “Hey, sorry I have to pretend to date your boyfriend.”

Mingyu laughed a little. “It’s okay, circumstances call for it, so.” He didn’t finish his sentence.

Wonwoo looked at Hansol and Mingyu’s hands, finally noticing them. He then looked at Mingyu. “Are you okay? Did she say something to you?”

“No, I’m okay. It’s just a lot to process.”

Wonwoo nodded slowly and turned to Hansol. “Look after him and don’t go upstairs. It’s not safe.”

With that, he and Hyejin left to go upstairs, leaving Hansol shocked by the fact that Wonwoo seemed to care about his safety.

“I didn’t think he liked me.”

Mingyu laughed, letting go of Hansol’s hand and standing up. “He likes you a lot. Can we go to yours? I don’t wanna be here.”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

Mingyu helped him lock up the till and close up The Shop, flipping over the sign and trying to ignore the muffled voices from above them. Hansol texted Seungcheol to let him know he had closed up early and the two of them stepped outside and started walking towards the university.

They ended up sitting on Hansol’s bed with his laptop on a chair in front of them so they could watch a movie. Neither of them were really invested in it, but it was light hearted and they could breathe. After the movie, they showed each other shitty memes on YouTube, discovering that they had a similar sense of humour. As it got later, Hansol pulled two cup noodles from under the small sink in the corner of his room and ran the tap till the water was hot enough.

He set the noodles on his desk and sat back down on the bed as Mingyu shut the blind on the wall next to them. It was the first time they had spent time together just the two of them, which seemed like a strange thought to Hansol, but Seungcheol had always been with them. He was surprised by the ease with which he was able to talk to Mingyu and the comfort of their silences.

They left a fail compilation playing as they ate their noodles, Mingyu lying on his side and propped up by his elbow as Hansol sat cross legged. Mingyu finished first, passing his empty cup to Hansol who put it back on his desk.

“Does Seungcheol ever play with your hair?”

Hansol was confused by the question, swallowing a mouthful of noodles and clearing his throat. “Yeah, why?”

Mingyu looked like he was trying to figure out how best not to embarrass himself. “It’s just that, he was playing with my hair this morning and it calmed me down a lot and I just,” he sighed heavily, “I need calming down right now.”

Hansol smiled, taking one more mouthful and putting his cup next to Mingyu’s. He sat back against the head of his bed and gestured for Mingyu to move up the bed. He did so, resting his head on Hansol’s knee and reaching to reposition the laptop. Hansol slowly threaded his hands through Mingyu’s hair and felt his entire body instantly relax. He rubbed in circles, pressing a little harder at the top of his neck and behind his ears, combining Seungcheol’s technique with what he could remember of hairdressers doing the same.

As Mingyu started another video, Hansol reached over to his desk and picked up his copy of Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. They stayed like this for a long time, Hansol’s hand rubbing Mingyu’s head all the while.

“I’m too scared to go back.”

Hansol shut his book, keeping his place with a finger. “That’s understandable. You can stay here if you want.”

Mingyu sniffed, and Hansol realised he had been crying. “Thank you.”

They shut the laptop and got up from the bed, Hansol digging through his drawers to find Mingyu a shirt that would actually fit him. He fished out the biggest shirt he owned, but it still left a sliver of skin exposed above the waistband of his pants, causing the two of them to laugh. Hansol retrieved his pyjamas from under his pillow and turned his back as he got changed. When Mingyu saw his matching button up set, he laughed.

“I know two years really isn’t that big of a difference, but sometimes you really do seem a lot younger than us.”

Hansol pouted, not taking it seriously. “They’re more comfortable than your shirt-boxers combo.”

Mingyu ruffled his hair. “Has your mum labelled the days on your underwear?”

Hansol laughed, walking to his chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of boxers, showing Mingyu the inside of the waistband. “She has, actually.”

“Shit, I don’t think my parents ever did that.”

Hansol shrugged, putting the boxers back in the drawer and going back to his bed. “Right, how are we gonna do this?”

Mingyu regarded the bed as well. “Top and tail?”

Hansol wrinkled his nose. “If you like being kicked in the face.”

“Can your feet reach?”

Hansol shoved him a little and they laughed together, then falling into silence as they looked down at the bed. Hansol shrugged. “Fuck it.”

He turned off the lights and threw off the covers. “Left or right?”

“Right,” Mingyu said, climbing onto the bed first.

“Good, I have to be close to the door.”

Hansol climbed in after him and they spent a couple minutes shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position. Hansol was glad he had been given a king single rather than a regular. In the end, Hansol lay on his side facing the door as Mingyu did the same behind him. There was a space between them, but Mingyu still slung an arm around him.

“Hey, Hansol?”

“Yeah?”

“No homo.”

Hansol laughed. “That’s cool bro, only counts if the balls touch.”

This made Mingyu shake with laughter; a loud, almost booming sound that shook the whole bed. “Shit that’s good.”

“Thanks. Hey I think your phone’s ringing.”

Mingyu sat up, reaching over Hansol to pick up his phone from the desk and answering it. “Hey, sorry I was gonna call you.”

The room was quiet enough for Hansol to hear Wonwoo on the other end.

“Where are you?”

“Hansol’s, he’s letting me stay the night.”

“I need you.”

Mingyu lay down on his back. “What kind of need me.”

“My mother is here and Seungcheol and I had a fight.”

Mingyu sighed. “Not tonight, Wonwoo. I’m sorry.”

“Please.”

Hansol heard Mingyu hold his breath for a moment before he replied. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Please don’t do anything dumb.”

“Okay.”

“Wonwoo?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Hansol felt a pang of sadness.

“I love you, too.”

“Stay safe.”

“Okay.”

Mingyu hung up and let out a long, deep sigh. Hansol turned over to face Mingyu.

“Are you okay?”

“No. I want to go to sleep.”

“That’s okay. Do you want to be the little spoon?”

Mingyu gave a weak laugh. “I would say yes, but you really are very short.”

Hansol smiled at him, knowing the dim light from the window was enough to see his face by. He then turned over again to face the door and let Mingyu wrap an arm around him.

#seventeen #hip hop unit #meanie #cheolsol #check in #mine

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