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ao3cassandraic · 1 year ago

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Kayfabe: A Good Omens meta

"Kayfabe," in wrestling, is the performance (including outside the wrestling ring) of whatever storyline is being woven around the wrestlers. Breaking kayfabe is Serious Business for a wrestler; the illusion is part of the event. If you ever wondered how John Cena could anchor an entire HBO miniseries brilliantly, kayfabe is a big part of the answer.

Because of their histories and how their respective Head Offices treat them, Crowley and Aziraphale approach their version of kayfabe -- their whole "I am an angel! You are a demon! We're hereditary enemies!" schtick, also their "we are good bad proper little footsoldiers, honest, Boss" schtick to their respective Head Offices -- very, very differently.

I promise there's a point to this. I PROMISE. But let me walk through it first.

Both of them know that one awkward question to Upstairs at the wrong moment and its Fallsville. Crowley, however, knows a couple of things that Aziraphale doesn't have to:

Punishment isn't just once; in some ways, the Fall is never over. Beelzebub or Hastur can throw you in the Dung Pits whenever, after all, or feed you to a Hellhound, or zap you like an Eric. Crowley's lot do not send rude notes. (s2: we do not know what happened to Crowley after Hell dragged him back at the end of the Resurrectionists 'sode, but I think it safe to say it was not great for Crowley. Litotes: your key to quality meta.)

Downstairs can and does check in -- or drag Crowley Downstairs for a chat and possibly a bit of idle torture -- whenever they feel like it. Downstairs seems pretty disorganized, especially its leadership, so I'd expect ad-hoc surprise inspections from them. Downstairs can invade Crowley's flat's TV, his Bentley's radio, and his very mind to perform those inspections. Crowley is never, ever safe from this. He can't relax. Ever.

Heaven, on the other hand, has 37 levels of scriveners and zero interest in Earth. Talk of "reprimands" and "miracle budgets" and Michael being a stickler and whatnot suggests a formal review process happening on a schedule, governed largely by the dreaded (but quite possibly fake-able or spinnable) "paperwork" rather than direct observation by Aziraphale's peers or superiors. Otherwise, Aziraphale is usually left to his own devices. Remember how startled he is when Gabriel shows up at the sushi restaurant in s1? This is unusual!

(We also know from Muriel that Heaven's records office doesn't seem to get consulted a whole lot. It's possible this just means that first-through-thirty-sixth-level scriveners handle everything, but in my experience of large bureaucracies, it's the folks at the bottom of the hierarchy who invariably get run off their feet first. Don't see why Heaven would be any different.)

Moreover, Heaven's punishments seem pretty light, on the whole? Our angel is so anxious and so sensitive to slights that I'm sure the reprimands aren't fun, and nobody likes a reduced miracle budget... but Heavenly "needs improvement" reviews don't seem to be a patch on the Dung Pits. The real threat is Falling, which is more than horrible enough to serve as deterrent; Heaven doesn't need to add torments.

Moreover moreover, Aziraphale is mostly aligned with his Head Office in a way that Crowley really, really isn't. I'm sure Aziraphale does a lot of his Heaven assignments with a song in his heart and a skip in his step -- it's mostly not smiting or the like. Crowley... probably spends a lot of his work time figuring out how to obey the letter of Hellish law while defying its spirit. Crowley's in far more danger of angering his bosses.

So Aziraphale doesn't have to keep up kayfabe a lot of the time, not even while interacting with Crowley. He can and does save it for the rare occasions Heaven takes a personal interest. Crowley, however, must keep up kayfabe always, whether Aziraphale's there or not. The courage it must have taken that snake to slither up the wall of Eden!

The way Crowley navigates his permanent need for kayfabe is twofold. First, his all but instinctive refusal to accept any positive word or compliment about himself or his actions from anyone ever -- "I'M NOT NICE!" If Hell were ever to hear someone characterizing Crowley that way... That's also why Crowley is a bit less exercised when Jimbriel calls him nice: "nobody'll ever believe you."

Second, a species of Orwellian doublethink: maintaining a running commentary in his head of how he's going to justify any unHellish actions to Hell, since he can never know exactly when he'll have to or what exactly they'll have a bug up their butt (sorry, Beez) about. Even high as a kite on laudanum in the Edinburgh cemetery, Crowley can explain his current justification (in a curiously sober voice -- is Crowley ever really high in that scene? or is it all kayfabe? I lean toward kayfabe) to Aziraphale, "Not kind! Off my head on laudanum, not responsible for my actions."

We can see the kayfabe mismatch play out a few times, and it does appear that Aziraphale gets more concerned for Crowley's safety and more aware of Crowley's need for kayfabe post-Arrangement. That doesn't mean he always remembers, of course -- he wouldn't, he just doesn't have that same desperate need. And, of course, the ineffable walnuts do not communicate, as s2 went to some lengths to point out. I do think kayfabe is part of that -- it's hard for Crowley to be sincere when he's constantly doublethinking, and Aziraphale's off-and-on involvement with kayfabe (and all his other tendencies toward lying) disincline him to achieve or even learn about honest communication.

One s1 scene I went back and rewatched while thinking about this was the Globe scene, which contains Aziraphale's Saint-Peter-esque three-time denial of Crowley. I find it easy now to read that as Aziraphale going "oh crap do I need to drop back into kayfabe now? I didn't break kayfabe, did I?" and Crowley grinning, at least partly as reassurance. (Partly, of course, because Aziraphale is cute and funny even when kayfabing -- and partly because Aziraphale's sudden drop into kayfabe is Aziraphale trying to protect Crowley, of course Crowley's pleased by that.)

The wall pin, now that I think about it, also gains a little nuance from this. Crowley's fear-laced ire is genuine, but how many times must Aziraphale have heard Crowley snarl at him not to break kayfabe in this way? No surprise he's a little unimpressed. (With Crowley's demand. He's clearly very impressed by Crowley.)

In the s2 Job minisode, Aziraphale hilariously drops kayfabe (and that epic whole-body halo, loved that, great job FX folks) almost immediately. Crowley allows it, because Crowley is on firm ground -- Hell will be just fine with Crowley wrapping the angel in a Chuck-Jones-cartoon amount of scroll parchment and flipping him off.

When angel and demon collude on the con later, of course, they observe kayfabe, improv-style -- Crowley helps Aziraphale deal with the Job's-children situation without giving either of them away to the watching angel posse. Interestingly, it's Aziraphale who de-gecko-izes the kids. That gives Crowley an out, sort of: "look, the mansion collapse missed them because they were in the cellar, I turned them into geckos, totally Hellish thing to do, they'd never survive in the wild, but then this bloody interfering angel went and changed them back!"

And how does Crowley console a distraught angel who thinks he's about to be dragged to Hell? Crowley explains kayfabe in the fewest and clearest words possible. "Well, yeah, you did, but... I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you?"

So yeah. That's kayfabe for the Ineffable Walnuts.

But I promised there was a point to this, didn't I? Yes, I have a point.

My point is...

my POINT is...

my point IS...

(not dolphins, not this time)

My point is, how much of s2's Final Fifteen Minutes is kayfabe?

That's my point.

#good omens season 2 spoilers #gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #ineffable walnuts #kayfabe #good omens meta #the point is not dolphins

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artist-issues · 6 months ago

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every now and then I play with the exercise of "what if we're wrong" because sometimes I get bored and also as an actual exercise. I usually apply this to Christianity/religion, matters of the after life, or about other people.

So sometimes I poke at the big question, if Christianity isn't real, what does that mean? And I don't usually go the route of atheism or bad sci fi, just that the religion is proven to be fundamentally inaccurate to reality, so what does that mean?

Anyway it wasn't until I was reading a really good sci fi story, where this one dude explains to some aliens the concept of "Love your enemies, do good to those that hurt you" and of course the aliens are like what? (Because in the sci fi narrative the universe is functioning under a Dark Forest Theory) And the dude explains its from one of earth's greatest teachers. And the aliens are like, if the inhabitants of the universe could believe that, this universe would be a different place entirely.

And it was at that point where I realized bro... even if it's not accurate, practicing Christianity is still worth it, for a human being. Loving your enemies means loving them like humans. The Poor, the Meek, and those who mourn, those are promises and comforts that we shouldn't toss aside even if heaven isn't real.

I don't know, this is just a terribly simplistic because I'm not the best at putting my English thoughts into english out loud, but that crack gave me a touch of useful coping. I asked my dad, if aliens are proven to exist it doesn't automatically mean christians stop practicing and believing, right? And he said obviously not.

I don't know but have you ever engaged in such a question " what if we're wrong?" And if you ever have what answer had you arrived at?

EDIT: As @atwas-meme-ing correctly pointed out in the comments section of this post, who cares whether or not I’ve played this game: God answered the question through Paul in his letter to the Corinthians: “If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.” 1 Corinthians 5:19.

There’s no “good moral teaching” to be found in Christianity if Christ wasn’t God, or if God didn’t exist, or if eternity weren’t real. My rambling logic is below the cut.

I mean, I play that “game” all the time about other things, and sometimes I do it for work. I’ll take two established characters and a setting me and my friends have agreed on, and I’ll “run a scenario.”

But the thing is, once my brain picks out something that doesn’t make sense, or that wouldn’t be in-character for the characters to do, the whole scenario grinds to a halt and I have to start over. I can’t suspend my own disbelief once I notice that something doesn’t line up. Even if I really liked “where the scene was going” before I noticed that thing. Whatever I’m getting stuck on because of it’s out-of-character nature unravels the parts I like, too.

All that to say I can’t even run a scenario in my head where “what if all this isn’t true? What if it fundamentally doesn’t line up with reality?”

I can’t. Once or twice I have tried. But I hit snags immediately. I’ll go, “pretend all of this Christian religion really is just a centuries-old conspiracy humanity’s been patching up the holes in.”

But then that little simulation-checker in my brain goes, “then how do you explain people dying for it? That many martyrs aren’t likely to have allowed themselves to be tortured and murdered for something they knew was a conspiracy.”

And I go, “well, pretend they died because they didn’t know it was a conspiracy, they believed it.”

And the sim-checker goes, “but the original disciples of Jesus, ground-zero of the faith, were all martyred. Not just people who learned from them and came after them and could’ve been hoodwinked: the starting points, themselves. They would’ve had to know it was a conspiracy, if it was a conspiracy, and they still willingly died for it.”

Maybe I’ll pivot and go, “pretend there isn’t objective truth.”

And the sim-checker goes, “there isn’t truth…objectively?”

Maybe I’ll pivot again and try, “pretend that everyone really does just measure morality based on what they’re used to, what their individual society’s trained them to associate with pleasant feelings and reactions.”

And the sim-checker goes, “Okay, where did those societies get the training manual? Where did it come from? Why do so many different societies’ and people groups’ ‘association with pleasant feelings and reactions’ around the world have so many things in common?”

And the answers to all that leads me back to Christianity. Even if I go the longest way round I can think of.

And eventually I quit running those scenarios. Because guess what?

Where’d the ability to run scenarios come from?

How did I get that? How did you?

See, the thing is, we go, “what if all of this isn’t true?” But it’s right there in the question. “Where did you get that desire? The desire for “truth?”” Is it to keep yourself safe, like the natural animals have an instinct toward, or is it to keep yourself sane, because you need some sense in this life to make it through? Sure. Maybe. But why? What’s “sane?” What’s “safe?” Sanity presupposes order. Why do you, and all humans, naturally lean toward wanting things to be “the way they’re supposed to be?” Where’d that come from, that idea of “supposed to be?” And Safety presupposes good being found in avoiding pain and damage and fear. “Good?” Where’d you get that idea?”

The further you dig, even into your own psyche, the less you can run any scenario that has God absent entirely. And no wonder. He designed it.

One more thing.

“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” - C.S. Lewis

I used to lean into the idea you’re saying here. “Even if it’s not true, I’m going to live like it is and believe it just in case. Besides, it makes me better, and makes the world better.” That’s not belief at all. That’s ends-justify-the-means thinking. The teachings that Jesus gave which “make the world a better place” are utterly worthless if they’re coming out of the mouth of a liar. Because why should anyone believe Him? Why should anyone “turn the other cheek,” or “do unto others?” Because it makes us “better?” Who gets to define “better?”

The answer, of course, is Jesus does. The One who taught those sayings. But only if He’s God. Only if He was telling the truth. If He wasn’t God, what right has He, to tell us to give away our possessions to others and let them abuse us and give our lives up? If He was a liar, all of those “good teachings” would be tainted and untrustworthy. Besides, like I just said, they’re all only able to be called “good” teachings if you accept that there is one objective, universal “good.” And we’re right back to “where did Good come from?”

All roads lead back there, to Him. But we humans like to do this thing with God where we pretend there could be any reality outside of Him. It sort of makes sense, how we got that way. After all, when was the last time you noticed oxygen? How often during the day do you consciously inhale and exhale? As often as it happens automatically? How often during the day do you notice oxygen touching your skin or moving your hair or drying your eyeballs? As often as those things happen automatically? No. But it’s ever-present. Without it, you couldn’t live, let alone notice anything. But oxygen has always been around and everything in our lives interacts with or can only exist WITH it. God is much more than that, but that’s as close as I can get to communicating: He’s so good, and He’s so constantly there, everything, all the time, that it’s easy for us to take Him for granted, forget Him entirely, then use our two-pound brain matter to say, “He might not exist.” You might as well say, “imagine a world with no matter.” 🙄 “Ohhhh kay. Then it wouldn’t be a world.”

#This was fun to talk about though #because even when you’re trying to pick apart truth for “fun” you just get…a closer look at how true truth is.#analysis #christianity #apologetics #theology #faith #Jesus Christ #Bible #c.s. Lewis

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deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year ago

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jacklesverse bingo 2023 | MASTERLIST

most of these will be 18+ stories that include sexual or dark themes, individual warnings will be added for each one

hello y’all this is my first bingo and I’m so excited to start and finish my @jacklesversebingo card.

— eris

guidebook for sinners turned saints [smut, 8.8k]

description— dean uses the sexiest seduction methods to get laid when he keeps getting cockblocked by his gaming girlfriend.

mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix [smut, 5k]

description — aka. part II of mattel. finally, in the privacy of your home, you find the willpower to make the afternoon all about dean (as you’d originally hoped) when he tries to distract you from your plans.

and their name was treason [gen, 2k]

description — with the help of charlie, sam and Dean have become prolific con artists. but after losing his work, dean’s left wondering how do you con a con artist?

the love letter collection : part II [fluff, 2.6k]

description — being a dreamwalker, seeing every universe, having a hot boyfriend. there’s a million perks to that. this is the soft version.

seven [smut, 5.2k]

description — dean would rather be doing something else with his time rather than doing research, he’d rather be doing her.

the politics of knife fighting [flangst, 4.5k]

description — tom tried to live a normal life after getting away from his hometown, but he should’ve known his little slice of heaven would go bad eventually.

closer than this [smut, 2.2k]

description — something quick. something hot. in between busy tasks. when everyone else is distracted.

hero of the half-truth [smut, 3.7k]

description — you can’t decide whether it’s a punishment or not when you go to see soldier boy knowing that he’s trying to keep you safe from everything in his life

demonology and heartache [smut, 4.9k]

description — dean is a devout catholic and has never known a life outside the church, all his resolve is broken by the temptation of a hellish seductress.

mattel [smut, 2.9k]

description — looking for some new toys to spice up the bedroom, Dean discloses his insecurities and leaves you thinking of ways to help erase them.

same book but never the same page [fluff, 5.6k]

description — part III of the love letter collection. still dreamwalking. chasing after someone who can destroy worlds. and dean is jealous of his variants. what could go wrong?

two hearted [smut, 4.8k]

description — playing pretend, doing risky things, improv, Valentine’s Day is more than “unattached drifter Christmas” now.

sweet kansas honey [smut, 1.5k]

description — invited by her friend to a bee farm, but Dean wasn’t invited to their cute day out. Dean gets pouty… and, ya know, horny.

colder than my heart, if you can imagine [gen, 2.3k]

description — you and soldier boy can’t seem to get along, but it may be because of something deeper than hatred or jealousy.

the love letter collection : part I [smut, 11k]

description — being a dreamwalker, seeing every universe, having a hot boyfriend. there’s a million perks to that. this is the sad version.

god, if you are above [smut, 1.8k]

description — technically part two of demonology and heartache (which I haven’t posted, yet). an au in which dean is a priest and the reader is a demon with an obsession to corrupt him.

the pros and cons of breathing masterlist [smut, ?]

description — dean gets his bloodlust under control and becomes a baker. then he meets you and there's a whole other lust that takes him over. were you his unmaking or purpose?

stone flower [fluff, 1.9k]

description — aka. part II of I believe in a thing called loved. quickly attempting to find out what’s wrong with his girlfriend, dean makes a dreadful (objectively funny) discovery about what’s actually going on

I believe in a thing called love [smut, 4.2k]

description — dean thinks you’re playing a game but he slowly realises you’re not.

right people, wrong place [smut, 3.3k]

description — aka. part II of and their name was treason. confrontations and unexpected turn of events. the truth and the consequences.

when broken is easily fixed [fluff, 2.7k]

description — priestly broke up with tish (yes!) uh, i mean… you watch him be pathetic and sad with his big wet green eyes and decide to do something about it.

taglist

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

beau arlen masterlist

soldier boy masterlist

jensen ackles masterlist

jake gray masterlist

boaz priestly masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#jacklesversebingo23 #d #bingo card #bingo card masterlist #jacklesversebingo23 masterlist #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jason teague x reader #boaz priestly x reader #tom hanniger x reader #soldier boy x reader #jack durphy x reader #beau arlen x reader

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shoemakerobstetrician · 1 year ago

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The Tragedies of Aziraphale and Crowley

A loooonng time ago I read a letter by a major American playwright (I think O’Neill or Williams) in which he was discussing one of his works, saying that he had to reinvent tragedy, that the Classical Greek form of tragedy was having to betray one’s duty to society to fulfill a personal or family obligation, and we no longer had that framework in modern society. His conclusion was that modern tragedy would be having to betray yourself, your dreams, your beliefs.

So we have Aziraphale, being asked by Crowley to run away with him and betray heaven - a Classical Greek tragedy.

And we have Crowley, being asked by Aziraphale to return to heaven and betray himself - a modern tragedy.

Either choice at the end of S2 that ended with the two of them together would have still been a tragedy for one of them.

This shit is heavy man.

I’m just going to click my heels together and repeat “South Downs cottage, South Downs cottage, South Downs cottage”

EDIT - I had most of what’s below in a comment on a wonderful post by @andromeda4004 , but I wanted to tack it on here as it’s related.

Somewhere here in a comment about the actors that recur in different roles (which, honestly, there’s a narrative reason for that, Neil lies) Neil refers to S1 and S3 as something like the main story. Presumably the main story is the end of the world, or the resolution of the question of whether or not heaven and hell will end it.

I think the main thing we got in this season is that Crowley will do ANYTHING for Aziraphale: dance, let him drive the Bentley, become a bookseller (even though he said not even at gunpoint) point a gun at his head. I think the reason he is so insistent with Aziraphale that he will kill Job’s children is that he is trying to keep Aziraphale from getting involved in not killing them, to protect Aziraphale from possibly falling, or at least from a crisis of faith. He’s willing to have Aziraphale think he’s a killer of children to protect him from that.

It makes it all the more tragic when Aziraphale asks him to come back to heaven with him. Aziraphale has finally crossed the line, asking him to betray himself, who he is now, for something he knows is a baseless fantasy. It’s a brutal setup for season 3.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #crowly x aziraphale #gos2 spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #gos2spoilers #disaster puppy #michael sheen #David Tennant #neil gaiman #Classical Tragedy #Modern Tragedy

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wraithdance · 2 months ago

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The TF 141 Compatibility Love Report

For: @mikichko

Disclaimer:

This is based on my personal opinion and interpretation of you and the character. the user makes no claims to be a real doctor or any medical professional. I will knock all this shit over and plead insanity in a court of law, so please don’t sue, jump me or take my kidneys, fingers or toes.

The Doc says your TF 141 Perfect Match is…

John 'Soap' MacTavish!

Romance: Structure! Responsibility! Hard work! You're the constant that keeps all the plates spinning in your universe. That's why Soap as a partner would be a match made in heaven. He'll meet you passion for passion and help you realize things about yourself you may not even recognize (doesn't matter how self aware you are babes, he'll teach you a trick or two!) If you play things close to the chest and prefer to keep emotions at a safe distance, he's the partner who will take the time to chip at your walls brick by brick. (that's a promise and a threat)

This lover boy is actually super emotionally attuned to those he loves. He will ease your mind with the obvious devotion he has for you and maybe you'll only be a little bit embarrassed if he insists on painting a few boudoir portraits... or five. Soap would encourage you to stop and smell the roses sometimes and not get so stuck on the fine details. Not to say he wouldn't absolutely live to challenge you when he sees fit! It would be worth it to be in the dog house as long as he knows he did what he could to make you see that he's there and he's not leaving (even if you want him to). Whether it's as the man at your back supporting you or the bruiser at your side ready for you to say sic, he's ready and willingly. Silly mornings teasing him for his awful Spanish, relaxing days on the couch cuddled up and...

Sex: I'm gonna hold your hand when I say this... your coochie is in danger girl :(

For at least the first month Soap will make it a mission to keep you under him in as many positions as he can get you. Slow and intimate or so nasty you can't look your neighbors in the eyes, Soap is going to do it all. If you have even an ounce of submissiveness or praise kink in you, Soap is exploiting that asap. He wants you on your knees and every worry out of your head so he can fuck all thirteen letters of his name into you until it's the only thing that's left. Lovingly of course. If you're a bit on the secretly kinky side he's so down and will encourage you to take what you need from him, no matter how crazy it seems. True love lmao.

Possible points of Contention:

Doesn't know when to quit

Second hand Embarrassment

Bringing the filter-less white boy home to the family

Your Poly Pairing (haha) is….

GHOAP- Now before you run away!! This traditional fan fave pairing is the perfect blend of danger and comfort. Soap would be the outwardly loving partner who'd cry with you over tiktoks, while Ghost snorts under his breath but makes sure nothing disturbs your peace. Despite his intensity and a possible learning curve at the beginning, Ghost and you would act as a mirror reflection of each other (Layered, looking for the deeper meaning and efficient at what you do.) He’d take you seriously and be an excellent counsel for you to lean on. Johnny will act as a natural buffer and bring a 4 speed magic wand, the spirit of fun and spontaneity to this threesome. Good luck if they tag team you or identify a threat though...

#okay don’t jump me please lmaoo #had to cut myself off from yapping about this #I’m probably gonna go on a tangent in your DMs after you read though lmao #the doc is in

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mqverick · 9 months ago

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diet mountain dew || ꕤ

“Baby, stoppin' at 7-Eleven

There in his white Pontiac heaven.”

───────── ˚｡⋆ ( ၴႅၴ ⟡ ─────────

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Daniel was looking at you with the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen on a man’s face before. His eyes were burning into yours, glistening under the light as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. You tried not to gulp as the question echoed in your ears, face hot and flustered.

You never thought you’d find yourself outside of Daniel Kaffee’s door, contemplating whether to knock on his door or not. You’d always had the first word with him, ever since the moment he burst in your office with that stupid apple of his.

He’s looked like an idiot then and he looked like an idiot now, all proud of himself, looking at you — forcing you to use the actual words you’d been practicing and itching to say to him for God knows how long. It was deeply humiliating.

“No,” you simply and coldly replied, but your voice weakened by the end of the two-lettered word.

“It sounded like you were asking me out on a date,” he argued, crossing his arms as he took a few steps closer to you, ignoring the baseball game on the television that played uninterrupted in the background. He slyly raised his eyebrows as if he was questioning your previous ‘no’.

You stood there robotically, fumbling with the end of your thin jacket as you avoided eye contact with Daniel, knowing very well that your knees would buckle under just one look from him.

“I wasn’t,” you continued firmly.

“Mm,” Daniel hummed, his face so close to yours that you swore he was asking to get roughly hit in the balls. You were a woman with dignity and respect, though, you had to be stronger than that. God, you were aware of the fact that he had one of the most self-absorbed, cocky personalities, but when had he gotten like that? “I’ve been asked out on dates before, and that’s what it sounded like.”

Regretting your life’s choices should’ve been a paid occupation for you at that point. You wondered what came over you, thought hard about the nerve in your burnt brain that screamed and cried for you to get up from the bed, have a good day and then ruin it all by finally gathering the courage to go alone to Daniel’s place and talk to him about something that wasn’t related to the case. Ask him out on a fucking date like the desperate, little, touch starved loser you were.

Men had been going after you, begging for a chance since forever… yet, there was Daniel.

Daniel Kaffee, who had graduated from law school a year ago, had gotten in the Navy freshly — around nine months ago — who was so admirably impressive and intelligent and a whole person of his own. Daniel, who couldn’t come to a realisation without his thinking bat.

How had you fallen so hard in love with him?

“Do you like seafood? I know a good seafood place,” you blurted out, mentally kicking and cursing yourself for how stupid you’d sounded.

“I’ll tell you if you admit you’re asking me out.”

You weren’t going to, not even if he held a gun to your forehead and threatened your life. He did not need that kind of boost for his ego, nor did you care for getting embarrassingly paralysed in front of him after the smile he’d give you in case you actually did convince yourself to admit that this was your horrible aspect of asking him on a date.

“N-Not a date,” you stuttered, hating yourself.

“The sweat forming on your forehead says otherwise.” He snickered when you hurriedly snatched your hand from your jean’s pocket to wipe the non existent sweat off your face. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. You know, I really wouldn’t say no to going out with you.”

“Well, you’re not. I just want to grab some dinner with my colleague is all. Will you come or should I get going? It’s late, they’ll close soon.”

You eventually gathered the courage to breathe, backing away from him as you headed towards the door, placing your hand on the handle. Daniel snatched you back by the arm, catching you off guard as you silently cried, mind short-circuiting after noticing how much closer he’d pulled you to him. His grip was strong on your elbow, fingers tightly pressing into your warm, reddening skin.

“Are you dismissing me?”

You cocked your head to the side.

“What?”

“I want to go on a date with you. Do you want to go on a date with me?” Fuck, he was killing you. You were an exceptional lawyer, distinguished, had even won service medals. And all of that just vanished, the words dying in your throat, just because Kaffee was holding you so painfully close to him that part of your mind subconsciously dared you to move your head just an inch further into him, invade completely his personal space.

“I…” you began, but trailed off, seeing as you were truly incapable of understanding what was going through your blinded head in that moment. Had his eyes always been so dazzlingly green and big? Had Daniel always looked so unbelievably pretty?

“I didn’t even know you liked me. I mean, if you like me. I won’t make you say it — I just want to know if you’re asking me out on a date. Which is sort of like asking you if you like me, so that automatically cancels out what I just said.”

Daniel was getting nervous as well. Both of you were so utterly fucked with each other, but none ever spoke about it out loud without jokingly throwing flirtatious innuendos. He was done with just guessing how you felt about him, though, decided to take the matter into his own hands if you didn’t have the guts to make a move first.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you to another man just because his stupidity was too much of an obstacle to overcome. Died in silence every time he had to say goodbye or goodnight to you wherever you had to leave his apartment after judging that you’d all conversated enough about the case. Daniel knew that you had to be feeling something for him — even if that was a tiny spark.

All the secret glances, the way you commanded and spoke to him, the contained smiles; they had to mean something right? But why weren’t you trying anything with him? He thought he made it pretty obvious that he felt the same way about you, had been feeling like that for a long time.

He knew you knew.

“Danny, can you let — fuck, I can’t breathe when you hold me so close to you,” you accidentally confessed, eyes bulging the moment your words played loudly rent free in your brain right after they so easily and boldly left out of your mouth.

“You can’t?” he repeated softly, in awe as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said. “You can’t — you can’t say stuff like that to me and then tell me that you don’t want to ask me on a date. You can’t do that — you can’t fuck like that with my mind.”

You jerked away from him, brows furrowing.

“Me? I can’t say stuff like that to you? You’d known me only 12 hours when you told me you were sexually aroused. You’ve been looking at me as if I’m some sort of grand lawyer, like I amaze you or something — you know how hard it is for me to keep a fucking professional stance around you?” you were shouting for no reason now, practically admitting your feelings for him due to the anger that had fogged your brain.

Daniel closed his eyes in wonder, then looked at you dumbfounded. “What?” Fuck. “What did you just say?” he repeated hesitantly.

“Nothing.”

“No, don’t give me that bullshit. I thought you hated me. I always try so hard to impress you and I’m so afraid that I’ll do something wrong or offend you in some way I won’t even realize and you… You feel the same way about me?”

The question fell off his lips like he was terrified of the answer you’d give him. And it was true; he was, beat himself up for how little confidence he had around you even though his actions showed the opposite. He’d been melting for you.

Was captivated by your determination, the way you could make him feel so worthless just by giving him a weird look. Scary?

To Daniel, you were divine.

“I—I don’t feel a certain way about you, Danny.”

“You kill me,” he rushed to comment, cutting you off the second his nickname was mentioned. “Every single time you call me that, a small part of me dies. That sounds horrible, I didn’t mean it that way. You know how it feels to walk in a courtroom for the first time?”

You nodded with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I do. I could never forget. Do you?”

“Because of you, I do. If you weren’t so damn stubborn and annoying, I couldn’t even dream of it. When I walked inside, my legs were trembling. It was a confusing, but beautiful feeling.”

Your knees were bucking — what was he doing?

“Fuck you, Kaffee,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. Fuck me. Fuck me, Commander, I’m already yours. I have been ever since you listed my entire life in front of my very own eyes, then proceeded to threaten my position in the case. How can you not know that? How can you act so surprised when the only reason why I keep calling both you and Sam at my place repeatedly every day is because I believe that there couldn’t possibly be any way I’d ever see you in my little, humble apartment under any other circumstances? Don’t you think we could’ve perfectly arranged another meeting spot?”

You’d lost touch with the environment. Daniel’s eyes looked as though he was about to burst into tears; all glassy and red, holding back a million words and emotions that he’d so successfully held back for such a long time, that they almost didn’t even feel real. He had to be kidding you.

“Is it too late to ask you on a date, then?”

Daniel let out a sigh of relief, a gorgeous smile cracking on his lips as he finally shut the game on the television off, moving dangerously toward you. He cupped his hands over your cheeks and pulled you tightly into him, capturing your lips with his own after what felt like ages. His eyes were forcefully closed, afraid of opening them and waking up to what could be just another dream. But no, this was reality, he decided after he discreetly opened them just an inch to make sure that the person he was smushing was real.

You weren’t kissing him back, though, and it made him pull away, feeling like a complete fool. Had he misread anything again, had he done something wrong? Had his hurried intrusive thought to kiss you been too much?

“I’m really sorry, I—”

Embarrassment welled up inside of him as he stared down at your feet, his mind still unable to process the taste of your lips as it barely even functioned for any other reason; talking like a normal person, for example. Harvard lawyer, they said. Lawyer his ass. What kind of lawyer was ever known to get so tongue tied in a situation?

“Your lack of response to my question makes me believe that you haven’t truly been asked out on any dates before,” you eventually spoke, opting to break the silence with sarcasm, just like it had always been between the two of you.

You pressed your mouth against his this time, smirking nobly as you heard him take a sharp inhale. You walked backwards, forcing him to do the same, then pushed him against the outside arm of his pathetic couch, causing him to fall.

You wasted no time with getting on top of him, straddling his lap firmly as your back arched on top of him, making the kiss get profoundly deeper and wetter as tongues got involved. You’d never been French-kissed like that (or in general, ) — your head felt like it would explode.

Daniel wasn’t skilled just as a lawyer. He was awfully good at kissing, sending you over the edge just by adding a little extra saliva in the kiss and letting his hands roam freely in your back, pulling you closer and closer to his scorching body. His soft brunet hair softly brushed against your forehead as he titled his head for a better angle and you could almost feel yourself die.

He winced when his bat dug into his back and the miserable sound he made caused you to moan.

“Are — Are you going to ask me out?”

You ignored him, grasping on his shoulders as you accidentally ground against his crotch, losing your mind and grip over yourself when you felt his semi-erection rub just the right away over your jeans and panties, your wet core clenching around absolutely nothing disappointedly.

“Let’s go to the seafood place, yeah?” you exclaimed against his mouth.

“As a date?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You untangled yourself from him, still neatly seated on his legs as if you couldn’t feel him flush and hard, aching to be freed from his trousers.

“You know I’m very intimidated by you, right?”

Daniel gave you a peck on the before getting up to sit normally on the couch. “I do not, Ma’am.”

“Shut up.”

“Pretty impressive, huh?” he mocked, just like he’d said to you the first time you met. God, you really, deeply hated his self-absorbed guts. But you loved him. Loved him like crazy.

“I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“I don’t want to go out to eat.”

Daniel’s face dropped when you got up from the couch and began putting your jacket back on. He’d messed up, he’d messed up, he’d messed up… Fuck him and how he never thought before doing. You were going to leave him, of course you were. You were scared of how fast he’d moved.

Except you really weren’t, you just really found joy into toying with his lowered remaining patience.

“What?” he asked, nearly like a whisper.

“I’ll see you at court tomorrow at 10. Don’t be fucking late, Lieutenant, or I’ll just might have to cancel the dinner reservations I’m planning. Up until then, you’ll do well with your very manly and grown up Yoo-Hoos,” you walked up to his door, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest as the corner of your eye caught him almost stumbling into the coffee table in his hurry to get to you.

“Is it going to be a—”

“And before you ask, yes, it’s a date.”

FIN.

@honeymvnt 𝜗𝜚

#daniel kaffee #daniel kaffee oneshot #a few good men #a few good men fanfic #daniel kaffee fanfic #tom cruise oneshot #tom cruise #daniel kaffee fluff #so much tension #enemies to lovers #tension #daniel kaffee smut #light smut #not to be taken seriously #scrap #tom cruise x reader #daniel kaffee x reader #tom cruise imagine #daniel kaffee imagine

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neverchecking · 1 year ago

Note

You could consider this a request but the idea was too good to pass and I'm sure you'll be feral and foaming at the mouth if it wasn't in ur req box the moment it actually opens. So I'm writing this here for you to keep in your inbox before I forget and you'll mull it over and keep it preserved until it's time for requests to flood in again—

Remember Sadistic Reader? I bring u this: Dom! Sadistic! Reader x Sub! (Any of the chain) 🧍‍♀️

A reader who, after their little vixen side is revealed, it comes into play in the bedroom. ESPECIALLY in punishments. Maybe darling goddess wasn't pleased at the method they used to rid off a vermin, or rather maybe they were upset how nearly reckless their way of handling the pest was that they nearly got themselves caught. Sure, they didn't get hurt or get caught in the end, but their safety was on a tightrope and Reader couldn't help but be concerned and if the poor Link brushes it off as it's fine? Boi are they having it in the bedroom.

But the twisted part is that they probs did it purposely too, because they were much too starved for reader's attention. Too bad Reader knows this as well, oh they know. But did they really have to go through such unnecessary lengths? It's a bit unfortunate, but none of them really thinks it's as unfortunate anyway; Reader knows they enjoy being edged for a long time like the freaks they are until when the time that they deemed fit to let them come undone comes, and Reader will sit back and enjoy them wither under her touch until the sun rises.

She could only wonder how Hylia, much less Zelda even— would think of seeing their chosen champions a withering mess before them without her even lifting a finger to touch them. But whether or not the musing was said aloud only falls on deaf ears, leaving Reader to relish the show of seeing her feral handsome guard dog be reduced to a pathetic puppy.

(u can make it freakier and make this the entire chain being punished and Reader is just watching them—)

Alright I'm out bye—

Bestie. My cinnamon apple. The absolute gem of my life.

This. Every part of this. I didn't necessarily do request more imagine-

So, imagine Reader just giving them the look the second they step back into the inn they've chosen to stay at. A look that just spells danger in bright flashing letters along with a sharp frown that shoots of a matching flare.

Imagine the Link immediately knowing that he's in deep shit the moment he sees that look. His ears are going back and his shoulders are hunched. His steps immediately become slower and he debates dropping to his knees then and there, begging for forgiveness right then and there.

Imagine Reader silently watching him, assessing him, waiting to see his reaction. When he doesn't give her one, she's scoffing softly before turning on her heels, beckoning him to follow with one finger calling him forward.

Imagine Link stumbling over his feet, staying just one step behind his Goddess, watching her ever neutral expression. It doesn't shift though. Doesn't give away anything. It's frustratingly even and doesn't give him anything to go off of. Should he plead with her? Beg her? Kiss the very ground she walks on for just an ounce of mercy?

imagine the Link tries to brush it off, heaven forbid, or even go as far as insisting that it was no big deal. He's waving a hand flippantly all while feeling a bead of sweat tickle his spine. This feeling of not knowing eats him alive. He hates it. But he wouldn't dare question, much less talk back to his Goddess. That would be a field day for the rest of the chain.

imagine the Reader's gaze turns razor sharp and her steps suddenly stop. He's stumbling over himself in an effort to keep the distance between them. She's stepping closer and closer before her fingers, intricately delicate but just as iron clad, are pinching his cheeks and pulling him closer to her own face. There's a look in her eyes that tells him everything he needs to know. She knows.

Imagine the Link immediately bowing before her, his face scrunched in terror as he tries to think of a way to fix the situation. He knew he was being sloppy. He knew that it would come back to his Goddess because he ensured it would. He just didn't expect for it to feel this way. Of course, he never wanted to worry her, never- that would be sacrilegious- but he had just felt so...withdrawn from her presence. Like an addict who had gone too long without a hit. And It was brutal.

Imagine Reader is doing nothing but watching him for a tense second. Determining what punishment is worthy enough of this crime. She cannot be too cruel. That would make her no better than that wretched Hylia. Or, heaven and hell forbid, Zelda. No, this had to be as fair as it would be memorable. Something that could be seen as enjoyable at first before the overstimulation buzzed their veins and poisoned their minds.

Imagine Reader tying their hands to the bedposts, along with the Link's ankles before teasing them unlike ever before. Dragging feathers up and down their dripping shaft. Circling the head of their cock with a small shard of ice and watching it melt in delicious little drips. Maybe even letting candles burn and fall around the plain of their stomach, watching it harden before doing it again.

Imagine Reader doing this over and over and over again, until the Link is little more than a whimpering mess, pleading with her for forgiveness. Crying that he would never do it again, never dream of worrying her like he had done. Singing his hail Mary's and howling her hymns. Being nothing but a broken soul for her to weave and knit into whatever she wishes. Whatever suits her cause.

Imagine Reader tauntingly cooing over how shattered he is beneath her. How she had him so tightly wound around her finger, ready to snap the second she let him. How she knows he knows that he is nothing like the hero Hylia had crowned. That Zelda had deemed worthy. He is nothing to them, but everything to her. And she'll cherish their souls and hearts. He knows she will.

Imagine Reader making damn sure the lesson is truly sticking before letting up even just the slightest.

Imagine the rest of the chain (Minus Wind of course) being able to do nothing but watch. To simultaneously both learn the same lesson and acknowledge a new one.

One being that Their Goddess is just as benevolent as she can be strict. Never malicious, and never vindictive, but insistent on them learning and living with the knowledge that she views them as worthy. Not as Heroes, but as people. Her followers.

And she would never let anything happen to her followers.

Someone recommended calling this the Sweet but Psycho AU and I'm kinda digging it.

#cinder rambles #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #legend of zelda #link x reader #loz

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amethystunarmed · 9 months ago

Text

Benjamin and the Paper

Word Count: 1040 AO3 Link Benjamin learns about the events surrounding the launch of the Brick Satellite, and regrets.

Benjamin finds out from the newspaper.

(That’s not entirely true. He finds out when a new, brilliant star appears in the sky, because he knows only two people with the will and the imagination to shift the heavens themselves. He looks at the new guiding light over head and thinks, My God, they did it.)

Benjamin finds out about their deaths from the newspaper. Because of course he does. He can think of no person the ink loves more than the Stratford twins. Of course it cradles their bodies close to its chest, gently brings them home to rest in New York City.

“Extra! Extra! Death in British Guiana, local heroes killed in military coup!”

Benjamin stops so suddenly, three different people run into him. “Sorry, excuse me,” he says, frantically looking around for the paper boy he’d heard yelling. He beelines towards him, shoving what is certainly too much money into the kid’s hand as he snatches the paper away from him. He frantically scours the paper, looking for the story the boy was yelling about.

Maybe it’s not them, Benjamin thinks, feeling slightly hysterical. It could be about anyone, you can’t throw a rock in New York City without hitting a local celebrity. Breathing has gotten harder, the world spins around him. But he can’t stop reading, he needs to know-

Herschel and Hanover, along with Margaret Cavendish and Samuel and Rose Stratford, are presumed deceased.

Benjamin’s knees give out, and he grips desperately to a lamp post to keep from falling.

Samuel and Rose Stratford, are presumed deceased.

Many times, people say they’ve forgotten the last words they’ve said to a departed loved one. They can only hope it was a casual display of love, or, at worst, a mundane conversation with no bearing on their lives or relationship.

Benjamin knows exactly what his last words to Sam and Rose were, despite how hard he tries to forget.

Enjoy the present before its past.

Benjamin wishes he’d taken his own advice.

“Mister, are you okay?” The newsie asks, looking like he is afraid Benjamin is going to keel over next to him. Benjamin isn’t sure he answers. He opens his mouth, but he doesn’t think any sound comes out. Instead, he turns away and begins walking.

In the three months since Benjamin ended both his career and his friendship with the Stratfords in an incredibly public spectacle, he has done a lot of thinking. For the first month, he stewed in a blinding, hazy anger, interspersed with far too much whiskey. By the second month, he realized how empty his life felt without the Stratfords in it, and hated himself for even considering it. Recently, he’s just missed them.

(He’d been trying to figure out if there was a way he could send them a letter. He had no idea where to send it, much less whether Sam and Rose would actually read it. He supposes it doesn’t matter now.)

When his feet stop, he realizes he has reached the Stratford Family Paper Stand.

“You’ll always find a Stratford there!” Sam had once told him, like a reassurance. Like a North Star for Benjamin to follow if he ever lost them.

It is boarded up now, a sign over the door reading “Closed Until Further Notice.” Already, flowers line the walls, memorials for the heroes who told the world about life on the moon. He sees a paper with what could only be a child's drawing of a lunar buffalo. He remembers the way Rose and Sam had cackled when they told him about it, when they pulled this creature from thin air and made it real, preserved in ink before his very eyes. They created life with the dedication of gods and the whimsy of children.

The Paper Stand feels dead without them. There is nothing for him or anyone here. Not anymore.

He keeps walking.

It is dark when he finally gets to the office for the Sun.

He drifts forward toward the yellow light in the window. Because, surely, if looks in the window, he will see Sam, golden and brilliant in the lamp light, desperately scribbling in his notebook. He’ll see Rose, fingers blackened with ink from typesetting, the wrinkles in her furrowed brow like the lines of a constellation. He may have been an editor for the Sun, but the Stratfords were truly the ones Benjamin revolved around. As much as he likes to pretend the Lunar Hoax was a plot he got caught up in, he still remembers the thrill that ran through him as he put the first “Great Astronomical Discoveries” into type. He remembers being so excited for Rose and Sam’s reactions the next day. He remembers feeling positively giddy when they had beamed at him, once they saw he ran their story.

(When did that change? When did he decide their joy wasn’t enough?)

He feels adrift, a planet out of orbit. For as long as he can remember, his life has centered around the Stratfords, twin stars that tugged him into their gravity, be it as a friend, an enemy, or a man desperate to reconnect. What is his path, in a world without them?

He isn’t sure.

The door opens next to him, and Benjamin heart soars, because it’s them, it’s got to be them, it was just another hoax, they are back and really, shouldn’t Benjamin know better-

Chester Thomas stands, outlined in the doorframe. He looks worse than Benjamin has ever seen him, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, bottle of bourbon held loosely in his hand.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice curt and monotone. And Benjamin is going to leave, going to apologize and go about his business. Chester Thomas is the last person he wants to talk to right now, he doesn’t think his ego can take it. He fully plans to go home and stare at the ceiling of his bedroom until it is an acceptable time for him to get up again. He is going to leave, really.

So even he’s surprised when he says, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Chester sighs, and steps to the side. “Come on in.”

And, God help him, Benjamin does.

#pulp musicals #the brick satellite #benjamin park #the great moon hoax #rose stratford #samuel stratford #chester thomas #the ghosts of antikythera #angst #my writing #my fanfic

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lettersfromaphrodite · 1 year ago

Text

| I feel danger on your lips but it tastes good |

― pairing : Mingyu x Wonwoo ― content warnings : fluff, smut, vampire au, mingyu feeds from wonwoo ― word count : 4.976 ― summary : «don’t venture so far from your room at night,» Mingyu spoke with an alluring smile, «you’ll never know what lurks in the dark.»

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

The flames seemed to be alive, burning so bright that it seemed like the sun was rising extremely early that day; the orphanage was completely engulfed by a fire that sadly, no one managed to extinguish before noon.

Wonwoo woke up with a startle, breathing heavily as he did that same night years ago, as he did what he could to help saving few of the children still trapped in the building.

"Well, good morning”, he thought, as he reached for his glasses on the nightstand, and eventually decided to get up and get ready for the day. Wonwoo was twenty-two now, and he resigned himself that he wouldn’t be as lucky as the other adopted children; however, his life seemed to had taken a decisive turn since the day he started working at the very expensive mansion where a very young Count Kim Mingyu was living.

That morning, Wonwoo had had waited for few minutes before the heavy front door of the mansion moved, and few seconds later a woman was peeking her head from behind it.

«Hello,» Wonwoo greeted with the hint of a curt bow, «I’m here for the-»

«The butler position!» the woman excitedly interrupted him, now almost standing in front of him; Wonwoo nodded, and she answered with a gentle smile, fidgeting her hands in the white apron falling from her waist.

«I’m Ljudmila, the head maid.» she offered, making enough space for Wonwoo to get inside the mansion. He briefly introduced himself, and when she told him that she would explain his duties so that he could start the following day, he questioned whether someone else had applied for the position.

«No,» Ljudmila shook her head, not looking at him; her frown seemed to deepen, and with it – Wonwoo noticed, so did the wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes. «I believe you didn’t hear about rumours on your way here, or anything suspicious?» Wonwoo shook his head, and the frown disappeared from Ljudmila’s features.

«You can walk into every room in this castle, except of course for the ones you will find locked. The Master’s room are in the east wing of the mansion, but you don’t need to meet him for the time being.» Ljudmila’s voice was authoritative yet kind – it was obvious that she had been doing this for many years as she explained in details what would have been Wonwoo’s duties at the mansion; needless to say, he was so happy to hear that he would have his personal room that he almost forgot to listen to the rest.

Ljudmila, however, quickly noticed that Wonwoo rarely spoke and brushed it off thinking that he must have been very reserved, something quickly denied from the letters that accompanied him. Apparently the poor boy was one of the youngsters living in the orphanage that caught fire few years earlier.

The days went by quite slowly and monotonously, something that Wonwoo definitely didn’t dislike. Most importantly, Ljudmila must have said something to the other maids because – despite everyone being friendly to him, no one actually pushed too much for a conversation. Needless to say, Wonwoo was incredibly thankful to Ljudmila.

Among the things Wonwoo definitely wasn’t going to forget was his second day on the job, since everyone was almost incredulous about him being still alive, for whatever reason.

«Good heavens!» the cook had welcomed him in the kitchen that morning, «now this is something unexpected!» he laughed his thunderous laughter echoing in the room.

«What do you mean?» Wonwoo asked, his eyebrows furrowed in doubt. Did he sleep too much? No, that couldn’t be, the sun had just risen in the sky and yet there he was, washed up and dressed up for the day.

«It’s not a good idea…» one of the maids unsurely voiced her thoughts, however, Ljudmila almost appeared out of nowhere.

«Everyone, cut it out!» she quickly and nervously walked around the kitchen, faintly hitting both the cook and the maid that spoke with a the edge damp rag, without actually hurting them, «the poor boy has just arrived, are you – think about my sanity! I’ll grow older of twenty years in three days if you keep this up.» she sat on a nearby chair, breathing an exhausted sigh before smiling kindly at Wonwoo, who was silently looking at that bizarre interaction.

It was clear to Wonwoo that there was something up with this mansion – or even the Master himself; however, Wonwoo was definitely more determined that any danger lurking around. After all, he needed the job, didn’t he?

During the few months Wonwoo had started working as a butler, he definitely managed to make a lot of good memories, but honestly, the only things permanently engraved in Wonwoo’s mind were his encounters with his Master.

The first time it happened, Wonwoo had woken up from a nightmare and after tossing and turning in his bed without managing to fall asleep again, he decided to take a silent stroll around the garden; however, the moment he reached the path sided with roses in bloom, his feet came to an abrupt stop.

There was someone standing in the middle of the garden and right next to the fountain, his back was turned and therefore he couldn’t see that Wonwoo was there. Judging by what he could see from the distance, the boy was probably Mingyu himself, Wonwoo thought, since he stood perfectly straight and his hair seemed to be as dark as a starless night.

It was like one of t he fairy tales Wonwoo had read in the orphanage; the stranger turned his head a little, and time seemed to stop. Less than a second later, Wonwoo found himself walking away, his heart hammering in his chest for whatever reason; his feet carried him back to his room, where he locked himself in just to lie on his back, his hands firmly placed above his heart in the vain attempt to calm down as he was blankly staring at the ceiling and waiting for the morning to come.

The second time, Wonwoo was silently heading back towards his room, probably a little later than usual since he couldn’t help but rearrange the whole library in both chronological and alphabetical order, when he heard confident steps echoing in the hallway, coming from the opposite direction.

It was dark outside, and the butler was wandering a little too close to the east wing of the mansion, he realised – however, a little too late. Wonwoo heard the faint clatter of shoes hitting against the perfectly clean marble floor slowly but steadily approaching, and instinctively froze in his steps; he quickly glanced around, noticing that it was definitely too late to hide.

A tall figure appeared at the end of the corridor, and Wonwoo quickly realized that it must have been his Master, the same person he saw in the garden; the more he approached him, the more Wonwoo swore he could feel his heart quicken his pace.

Master Kim was a gorgeous young man, Wonwoo thought, it was clear to him, even if the only source of light was the moonlight shining outside of the large windows that lined the hallway; he was tall, his body seemed to be well proportioned and his skin seemed to be the same colour as honey.

However, Wonwoo thought, his mind must have been playing tricks on him because he could swear that his Master’s eyes seemed to be a deep yet bright shade of red.

«We finally meet, …» Mingyu purposely faked to be oblivious to the youngster’s name.

«Wonwoo, Sir.» the boy answered, his eyes now staring at the marble floor, since he felt incredibly small under the other’s authoritative gaze.

«I hope you managed to find yourself at home here, however, don’t venture so far from your room at night,» Mingyu spoke with an alluring smile, «you’ll never know what lurks in the dark.»

Wonwoo felt his cheeks heathen as he apologized to him, and once again, he quickly walked towards his room, once again with his heartbeat hammering in his chest so loudly that Wonwoo was afraid his ribcage was going to explode from the intensity of it.

The menacing and mysterious aura around his Master disappeared a week later, as soon as Ljudmila asked Wonwoo to bring Mingyu his breakfast.

«Knock on his bedroom door three times, he’ll let you in,» she instructed, «don’t open the curtains, he’s got a terrible temper in the morning if he hasn’t fed – oh please, don’t tell him I said that. Place the tray on the mahogany desk in the middle of the room and then wait for him to dismiss you. Okay?» Wonwoo nodded immediately, picking up the tray filled with fruits, warm milk and a crystal vial filled with a reddish liquid that definitely didn’t look normal – or edible, at all.

«Are you sure that was a good idea? The boy doesn’t know that he’s working for a vampire.» the cook – already busy cutting a large amount of carrots for lunch, asked his long time friend and colleague.

«I’m getting old,» she answered, sitting on the chair in front of him, and starting to help him in his task, «this year I will be fifty four, and believe me, I want our Master to have someone reliable at his side.»

«You could have warned him, though.» was the only thing he answered.

«Don’t you remember how each one of us eventually found out? We both seen Mingyu grow up, and I believe you know better than me that Wonwoo’s is in perfectly safe hands.» she explained, smiling fondly at the memories of an extremely young Mingyu, running through the kitchen and eagerly wanting to taste human food.

The east wing was symmetrical and perfectly equal to the rest of the mansion, still, the feeling of being allowed to venture inside it for the first time was more than enough for his heart to pick up pace in anticipation.

Wonwoo knocked three times against his Master’s door, before hearing his faint order to come in, just like Ljudmila had said. The bedroom was huge and, surprisingly enough, the furniture seemed to be really minimalistic.

“Less for me to clean”, Wonwoo thought, as his eyes quickly scanned the room. A mahogany desk with a large velvet-covered chair stood in the centre of the room – behind which stood the door-window leading to the small terrace attached to the room; to his left, a small bookcase formed a corner between two walls while to his right, there was a wide canopy bed where he easily found the target of his task.

His Master was sprawled on the mattress, his clothes were half unbuttoned and the sheets looked like he had tossed and turned all night without getting a minute of sleep.

«My dearest Ljudmila, believe me, I will die soon if I don’t personally feed on a human.» Mingyu sighed, his eyes lost in the ceiling above him, as he ran his fingers through his hair with a distressed movement.

«Your- your Grace» Wonwoo cleared his voice, immediately capturing the other boy’s interest, who was watching at his every move as his life depended on it, «Ljudmila is busy, she sent me.»

Mingyu was quick to lift himself on his elbows, studying Wonwoo’s movements as the butler placed the tray on his desk; while he was there, he took advantage of the situation and quickly re-arranged the order of few papers, just to make a little more space for him, if he decided to eat.

As Wonwoo re-adjusted his glasses, he heard his Master sigh, «Fine, but you’ll have to feed me, bring the blood to me, please.»

Wonwoo stared both at the ample filled with the ominous coloured liquid and then at Mingyu; did he hear that right?

Mingyu, however, noticed the confusion in the other’s eyes and chuckled briefly, tilting his head, «I guess Ljud didn’t tell you anything.»

«About what-» Wonwoo abruptly cut his own sentence with a sigh; he run a hand through his hair, before eventually, he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, «what was she supposed to tell me?»

«For a start, that the Master of this mansion is a vampire.» Mingyu answered with a confident smile, finding Wonwoo’s reaction a weird mixture between adorable and cute.

«You really want me to fall for that?» he questioned the boy who was still looking at him with a confident and mischievous smile.

«Fall for “that” as in, fall for me?» Mingyu teased as he decided to get up from the sea of sheet he was lying comfortably on top of; with few confident strides, he closed the space between himself and Wonwoo, now standing in front of him.

Without realizing, the butler instinctively took an imperceptible step back, but the desk was there to stop his short and useless attempt to keep a reasonable distance.

«First thing first, I know you noticed my eyes when we met,» Mingyu tilted his head down to meet Wonwoo’s gaze, who definitely couldn’t deny the fact that normal people didn’t have bright red eyes.

«Most importantly, now that we are so close,» Mingyu leaned towards the butler, who instinctively leaned back on the desk, his hands reaching behind himself in order not to fall, «I can’t help but notice that your blood smells delicious, Wonwoo.» Mingyu spoke with an alluring and husky voice, every trace of the lively and teasing Master from seconds ago seemed to have disappeared; Wonwoo’s heart started to quicken its pace, as he was having troubles identifying what he was feeling.

Actually, he was almost sure that among the mixture of confusion and astonishment he felt at the sudden revelation, he could also find a little bit of anticipation, especially when he was certain to have felt Mingyu’s teeth ever so sightly graze at the exposed skin on his neck that the collar of his shirt didn’t cover.

The intimate moment they shared ended shortly after, when Mingyu lifted his head, tilting it back so that their gaze would meet.

«Do you believe me now?» Mingyu questioned him with a smile, and as soon as Wonwoo’s gaze fell to the two pointy fangs that were oh so visible in his Master’s dazzling smile, he eventually came to the conclusion that his words were true.

Actually, thanks to the other servants, he had always known that something was up with the mansion, he was just glad that it didn’t turn out to be haunted with ghosts.

Satisfied with the butler’s answer, Mingyu went back to his bed, and Wonwoo quickly recomposed himself.

«Should I get an empty cup of tea or-» Wonwoo nervously adjusted his glasses, which were about to fall off the bridge of his nose.

«You were really going to obey that silly order?» the vampire stared at him with wide eyes; Wonwoo nodded, and with a lively laugh, Mingyu fell back in the sea of white sheets.

From that day, much to Ljudmila’s happiness, Wonwoo became Mingyu’s personal butler.

Few weeks later, Wonwoo knocked against Mingyu’s bedroom door, scoffing while hiding an amused smile as the only answer the vampire decided to give him was a groan.

«Good morning, Your Grace.» Wonwoo politely greeted Mingyu, who was lying in the usual sea of sheets he loved, with his pillow tightly pressed against his head.

Now, Wonwoo had spent enough days at the vampire’s side to realize that something in his behaviour definitely was off; he quietly placed the tray of breakfast on the desk, before quietly approaching the bed.

«Is everything okay?» Wonwoo gently questioned, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s hand over the pillow, but eventually halting his movements; the vampire kept silent, and the butler crouched next to his bed, finding it impolite to sit on his sheets.

«You can sit here.» Mingyu mumbled few seconds later, gently patting the empty spot next to his waist; Wonwoo thanked him and complied.

No one spoke for few minutes, and the both of them fell into a comfortable and weirdly intimate silence; Mingyu didn’t move his hand from the mattress, and Wonwoo didn’t realize that their fingertips were almost touching.

«I simply have a headache, you can go if you want to.» the vampire’s hoarse voice broke the silence, but somehow, Wonwoo believed that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

«I’m your personal butler, meaning I don’t have much to do if you’re sleeping.» Wonwoo lied. He definitely had something to do in the morning: collect mail from the entrance hall and sort it in order of importance before bringing it back to Mingyu – who most importantly had requested Wonwoo to drop formalities when they were alone. Then he needed to collect his freshly washed clothes from the laundry room, and then he promised Ljudmila he would help her clean the crystal chandelier in the living rooms, not to mention -

«I get very bad headaches and really dizzy if I don’t drink human blood.» Mingyu confessed, his pinky finger unconsciously touching Wonwoo’s index finger.

«Haven’t you been drinking blood every day, though?» Wonwoo curiously questioned, barely moving his hand, so that their fingers touching wouldn’t be as casual as it was few moments ago. Mingyu groaned, and that was the only answer Wonwoo thought he’d get; eventually, the vampire sighed, lifting the cushion from his head, his gaze adjusting to the partial brightness in the room.

«You’re perceptive, little one,» Mingyu teased, «however, that’s animal blood – which for being clear, is definitely not the same.» Wonwoo hummed, as he seemed to be lost in thoughts for few seconds, he asked the vampire if there was anything he could do, but Mingyu simply sighed, shaking his head.

«I appreciate your concern, but unless you want me to feed from you, there’s nothing you can do.»

A whirlwind of thoughts seemed to float inside Wonwoo’s mind after he heard Mingyu’s magic words. Of course, he thought the vampire was insanely attractive and of course, he found himself more than once fantasizing about the possibility of kissing those full lips; moreover, he had to admit that the fact that Mingyu was both extremely clumsy and effortlessly funny was enough for him to get fond of t he vampire every day a little more.

Actually, his blooming feelings were completely reciprocated by the vampire, but nor him nor Mingyu had ever considered the possibility, and therefore, when Wonwoo spoke a faint «okay, let’s do it.», Mingyu thought he was hallucinating.

«I’m not undressing more than this,» Wonwoo clarified, as he stared at the vampire, lazily sitting on the bed; the butler was basically still completely dressed, with the only exception of his gloves and his jacket. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, and thanks to the partial darkness of the room, he didn’t notice how Mingyu’s gaze hungrily travelled on the glimpse of toned skin that he could see.

«Works for me, but if things get messy I’m gonna stain your shirt, and you’ll have to tell Ljud.» Mingyu shrugged, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips as he heard Wonwoo groan in agreement, since he didn’t want to feel Ljudmila’s beloved damp rag on his skin anytime soon, especially for something he didn’t do.

Wonwoo lowered the suspenders keeping the shirt in place, letting the pieces of fabric dangle from his belt loop; he quickly got rid of his shirt, before folding it and placing it next to his jacket.

Following Mingyu’s direction, Wonwoo climbed on the mattress, and awkwardly sat on his lap; the vampire was keeping his left hand behind himself for balance, while his right hand immediately reached out to gently hold the other boy’s slim waist.

«This should be the part where you relax.» Mingyu mumbled, as his hand hesitantly slid from Wonwoo’s waist to his thigh. He tentatively widened the palm of his hand, just to squeeze the skin ever so lightly; needless to say, he found Wonwoo’s sudden whimper an addictive sound.

«If I do, we’ll be touching touching.» Wonwoo answered, hesitantly; despite his embarrassment, he didn’t want to move away, and as he felt Mingyu guide his hands to his chest, he let him, relaxing a little bit further against the other.

«I’m about to drink your blood, so it works for me,» the vampire shrugged, hiding behind a nervous smile, «are you sure you’re okay with this?»

Wonwoo didn’t need time to think about it before answering that yes, of course he was; a faint tug at his left thigh was what made him spread his knees a little more, completely sitting on Mingyu’s lap.

Now, clearly the both of them noticed that the other one was half hard but still – thankfully, no one decided to mention it. Mingyu’s lips immediately found Wonwoo’s collarbone, trying to focus his mind on his task of feeding before he decided to succumb to the lust and the attraction he felt for the younger boy.

«It- It tickles.» Wonwoo whispered, his shoulder instinctively twitching, making Mingyu move the direction of his open mouthed kisses a little upwards. If he were to be honest, that amount of kisses definitely was not necessary, but still, Mingyu didn’t exactly know why he was paying so much attention to it; whether it was because he wanted Wonwoo to fully get comfortable in his presence, whether he was loving the feeling of the other boy tightly gripping his shirt while trying to hide needy whimpers, Mingyu thought he would gladly stop time in that moment, so that they could enjoy it a little bit longer. Mingyu felt Wonwoo giggle again, and he breathed a little exasperated giggle as he leaned back once again.

«I’m sorry, it really tickles a lot.» Wonwoo apologized, and the both of them ended up finding that situation incredibly surreal to the point where they were thrown into a fit of small giggles.

«I’m good now, I promise.» Wonwoo took a deep breath as the both of them seemed to have calmed down; his hands found once again their place against the vampire’s chest – tightly gripping Mingyu’s shirt.

Wonwoo didn’t know what to expect, since the only time he had heard about vampires were in fairy tales; was their bite supposed to hurt, was it supposed to bring him a weird kind of pleasure?

Whatever the butler was trying to prepare for, he definitely didn’t consider the fact that Mingyu decided to place his hand on his nape, just to connect their lips; Wonwoo immediately reciprocated in a clumsy and passionate gesture, and he believed he could feel the butterflies in his stomach do somersaults as soon as he felt Mingyu groan against his lips as soon as he faintly tugged on his hair. They ended up kissing passionately until their lips felt swollen, and as they were both panting to catch their breath, Wonwoo gently guided Mingyu’s head to his neck.

It was crazy how a simple gesture was about to make him come untouched, but Wonwoo thought that nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of Mingyu sucking on his blood; it was weird, he had to admit, but at the same time, Wonwoo felt like his blood was being turned into a molten core gently spreading through his body. His senses felt heightened in an almost inhuman way, and the feeling of Mingyu’s arms gently but firmly holding his body close were driving him to hypersensitivity; whatever was happening, Wonwoo definitely didn’t want for it to end.

«Are you sure you feel better?» Wonwoo questioned, watching Mingyu nod as he wiped the small amount of blood falling from the corner of his lips.

«I know it’s really not romantic and I kind of planned to do things a little differently, but I really like you,» Mingyu confessed out of the blue, his gaze searching for Wonwoo’s as he felt him instinctively tense up in his lap, «and I really want you,» he added, moving his gaze towards the other’s lips, «heavens, how I want you.» he mumbled again, the huskiness and arousal in his voice were enough to drive Wonwoo’s mad.

The butler studied the vampire for few seconds, but still, he found no trace of lie in his gaze, especially because he has proven more than once that he didn’t have a single reason to lie to him. Wonwoo relaxed once again, his arms snaking around the vampire’s neck. «I really like you too,» he mumbled against Mingyu’s lips, feeling them part as if they were magnets, «and I really want you too.» That morning, Mingyu and Wonwoo ended up making love for the first time, showering each other with the eager affection of a blooming love, as their fingertips remained tightly intertwined.

For the whole day, no one among the servants asked where the Master and Wonwoo were; if the reason was Ljudmila threatening to kill everyone who suggested to look for them, that’s something neither Mingyu or Wonwoo needed to know.

Few weeks later, far too early on a Sunday morning, Mingyu groaned, turning the other way as he tried to fall asleep again. He stretched out his arm, realizing that Wonwoo must have woken up already; with an annoyed sigh, he silently cursed his servants for being so loud in the morning for no reason at all.

Eventually, Mingyu ended up shifting on Wonwoo’s side of the bed, trying to enjoy what was left of his lover’s warmth, but the noise didn’t seem to stop anytime soon; the vampire crooked one eye open, just snort while trying to hide an amused laughter – of course, Wonwoo hushed him immediately with a quick gesture of his hand.

«I told you, that I don’t want us to get married, not yet!» one of the maid’s loud voice echoed from the courtyard. Wonwoo was hiding behind the heavy curtain, following the interaction with extreme interest while carefully avoiding for too much light to peek into Mingyu’s room; he knew that light didn’t affect his lover, but he also knew that his temper wouldn’t be great if he were to be woken up with too much sunlight peeking inside the bedroom.

«But why not? Is it because of your parents? You didn’t tell them you’re pregnant, did you?» the gardener immediately retorted, his voice filled with irritation and astonishment. Wonwoo did his best to hide his surprised gasp, the tray – on which Mingyu’s dressed for the day were neatly placed, now digging a little more in his waist.

«I knew it!» Wonwoo faintly mumbled to himself while bringing his free hand in front of his mouth – still unaware about the fact that Mingyu was awake, and therefore earning another amused giggle from the vampire.

The argument between the couple went on for minutes, and Wonwoo was too immersed in his activity that he definitely didn’t notice Mingyu eventually walking up and walking towards him.

«What’s the commotion?» Mingyu’s hoarse voice spoke right against Wonwoo’s ear as he hugged his waist from behind, and the butler almost had a heart attack on the spot.

«Shh!» Wonwoo quickly silenced him, ignoring the fact that on that moment, he was definitely being louder than his lover. «One of the maids is pregnant, the gardener asked for her hand in marriage.» Wonwoo briefly explained. Mingyu gave him a brief nod, yawning and scratching his chest; he absently took the tray from Wonwoo’s hands – who immediately let him, and right after he placed it on his desk.

The next few minutes looked something in between from ridiculous to adorable; Mingyu, a vampire, was peeking from behind the curtain and repeating whatever Wonwoo’s ears couldn’t hear while Wonwoo, his butler, was mirroring his actions while moving his right hand as if to urge him to tell him more because «I didn’t hear it! Oh, damn that gardener’s thick accent.»

Mingyu yawned again, kissing his lover’s shoulders three times before eventually walking to the side of the door-window in order to open the curtains; Mingyu took the other’s hand – and of course Wonwoo let him lead them to the small balcony.

«I thought we were eavesdropping in a discreet way.» the butler mumbled with a small pout, not enjoying the fact that his fan had been cut short; however, now that the couple was on the balcony, Wonwoo definitely noticed that a large part of the servants had gathered in the courtyard as well, everyone suddenly interested and invested about the issue.

For a second, Wonwoo’s gaze met Ljudmila’s exasperated one, and as she shook her head, he chuckled briefly.

«Say, Wonwoo, what if we give them something to actually gossip about?» Mingyu’s alluring voice was once again speaking next to Wonwoo’s ear. The poor butler didn’t even have enough time to turn around and ask the vampire what he meant, when he found Mingyu’s lips gently crashing on his. Immediately, Wonwoo returned the gesture with equal fervour, as if it was the first time him and Mingyu were kissing and they haven’t been doing it on a daily basis for weeks.

Mingyu’s hands gripped Wonwoo’s waist, and pulled the younger boy flat against his chest; he didn’t need to check to be sure that the lovers quarrel had been already forgotten in order to talk about how «did you see the way young Master Mingyu was dragging Wonwoo to his bed?»

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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#fanfics #seventeen fanfic #meanie fanfic #wonwoo x mingyu #mingyu x wonwoo #seventeen au #seventeen vampire au #svt fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #kpop fantasy au #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpopfic #fantasy au

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crossroadsdimension · 2 months ago

Text

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 7

Prompt 7 - Morsel

(FFXIVWrite 2024 Masterpost)

The kitchen in the Rising Stones, unlike the one in Seventh Heaven, rarely saw much use. Between access to the bar and the scholars rarely thinking of making their own meals, they spend more time than not paying the chefs at the bar for a quick meal or two. Or asking F’lhaminn for a quick meal, if she was behind the counter in the Rising Stones.

Which made today a little different and very surprising when the Scions gathered in the main space to find the smells of spiced pork coming from their own kitchens.

“What’s this, now?” Y’shtola sniffed the air, frowning curiously. “Is F’lhaminn experimenting with new recipes?”

“Whatever it is, it smells good!” Yda bounced on her heels.

“Oh, this is hardly my doing.”

The Scions turned at the voice, and caught sight of the white-haired miqo’te woman sitting at one of the tables, drinking tea.

Yda turned her head back and forth between the kitchen and F’lhaminn. “If…not you, then who—”

“Cross asked for time to make a few things,” F’lhaminn explained. A small smile settled on her face. “It seems she missed a taste of home and wished to put her culinary skills to the test.”

“I wasn’t aware that she was capable of the culinary arts,” Thancred remarked. “What brought this on?”

“You can thank my mother!” A red-haired miqo’te head poked out from the kitchens, blue eyes bright. “She wanted me to have some skills to care for myself.”

Cross vanished back into the kitchen, leaving the Scions to exchange looks.

“It does make sense that an adventurer should be self-sufficient,” Papalymo remarked. “It should not be that surprising.” He turned and walked towards one of the tables and sat down. “Whether or not she intends to share is another matter entirely.”

“She does,” F’lhaminn replied. “She is currently making a feast of a meal.”

“A feast?” Yda licked her lips. “That sounds delicious!”

“What did we do to deserve this kind of attention?” Thancred asked. He walked up to the bar counter that F’lhaminn often worked behind — and the door behind it that led into the kitchens. “I have to wonder what drove you to do this.”

“Nothing drove me.” Cross poked her head out of the kitchen again. “Nothing except a desire for something delicious from home, I suppose. It’s been some time since I’ve eaten this in particular.”

“I can understand that,” Yda said, nodding. “I like eating foods that remind me of home, too. But…” She frowned, tilting her head. “You’re not that far from home, are you?”

“No, but…well, I’m not inclined to make frequent trips home right now.” Cross ducked back into the kitchen.

“Oh?” Yda tilted her head, frowning.

Papalymo sighed and shook his head. “Best not continue that conversation, I assume.”

“Why not?” Yda turned to look at the lalafell.

“I would assume her relationship with those she grew up around is not entirely friendly,” Y’shtola remarked. “Or, at the very least, that she did not leave with all of their blessings.”

“If Cross wants to speak on it, she will speak on it,” Thancred said firmly. “Speculation will not get us anywhere otherwise.”

The other Scions looked at Thancred with surprised, confused, and curious expressions.

“You know something.” Y’shtola didn’t word it as a question. “When did you come across this knowledge?”

“He found me writing letters home.” Cross stepped out of the kitchen, carrying a tray laden with two smoking rows of ribs. She stepped around the counter and towards the table F’lhaminn was sitting at. “My relationship with my mother is shaky at best, for the moment. As events in Eorzea settle, I hope that her fears will settle with them. But that is only if the primals will calm down, which I doubt they will in the near future.”

The remark didn’t receive sympathetic winces so much as sympathetic nods. It seemed the Scions did not have the exact same experience with parental figures that Cross did.

“In that case, let us hope her worries are eased in the coming days,” Y’shtola said lightly. “For I have not heard of any summonings in recent days.”

“Nor I,” Papalymo agreed. He leaned forward and sniffed in the direction of the tray. “Now, what is it that you have prepared?”

“Nothing special,” Cross replied. Her voice carried relief — whether it was the confirmation that the primals would not be present in the near future, or the change in subject, no one asked. “It’s a recipe I found in my mother’s stores, but it wasn’t in her handwriting. I do recall it being a favorite of mine. I think Dad used to make them — the pig ribs are meant to marinate in spices for several hours, then be grilled. I did my best, but it’s not like Revenant’s Toll has an outdoor grill for me to use.”

“Well, they smell quite delightful. How do we…?”

Cross picked up the knife on the tray, cut off a rib, and held one end in each hand. She grinned and took a bite of the meat, peeling a long strip off the bone. “Mm! Oh, that’s good. I think I got it right.”

“Oh.” Papalymo blinked, surprised.

“Oooh! Don’t mind if I do!” Yda reached forward and cut a rib free. “It’s not every day we get proper finger food around here!”

“Proper?!” Papalymo reared back. “I beg your pardon — that is going to cause such a mess!”

“All the more reason to lick your fingers!” Yda replied cheerily. She took a bite, tearing the meat off the bone in the same way Cross had. “Mm! Thish ish good!”

Thancred chuckled and shook his head while Cross put down a clean bone and reached for the knife again. “I wonder how well a meal such as this would do in the Bismarck.”

“I doubt they would let it into their kitchens,” Y’shtola replied wryly. “The Drowning Wench, perhaps.”

“Well, regardless, it certainly smells delicious.”

Cross cut the rest of the ribs free of each other and set the knife aside before picking up a second. “Thank you. I feel as though I’ve found a little more of home.”

F’lhaminn smiled, although something about the motion didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It is always important to find a piece to carry with you. I’m certain your father would love to see you making this recipe wherever you traveled.”

Cross finished pulling a bite of meet off the bone and nodded. “Mm.” She chewed and swallowed. “Y-yeah. I bet he would.”

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #cross' fanfiction #miqo'te warrior of light #miqo'te oc #scions of the seventh dawn #f'lhaminn #arr patches #food mention #(if anyone's wondering Cross made bbq babyback ribs)

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