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bisexual-inuyasha · 3 years

Text

The Hook

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

Chapter One: Meeting

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

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

And now his heart was breaking.

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

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

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

“Not a fan of this kind of thing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am still engaged?”

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

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

“So polite for an emperor.”

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

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

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

The stranger only laughed again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How bad did it go last night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m doing better.” Ling lied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ling quirked a brow. “See your hands?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, you don’t like them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dinner!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ed looked between them. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, do you have something to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you wanted me here.”

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

“Posed?”

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

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

“What about Xerxes?”

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

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

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

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

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

Ed didn’t look away. “No.”

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

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

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

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steadycoffeeflow · 6 years

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Day 10. Flowing | H&J

This prompt was supposed to be about Leo and his addictions, in the framework of J&H. I didn’t want to write that. Maybe another time. Instead, we get my self-insert character. She seemed easier to slip into and deal with.

Today was also Mental Health Day! Take care of yourselves you fucking eggs.

Osmosis: a process by which molecules of a solvent tend to pass through a semipermeable membrane from a less concentrated solution into a more concentrated one, thus equalizing the concentrations on each side of the membrane.

The concept was something Steady knew they’d gone over in high school AP Bio class. She could picture it, as if a mere decade hadn’t passed her by at all. Mr. Brett who was a portly and pleasant man with a full, pepper-salt beard who always referred to himself in the third person. They were setting up an experiment that involved potato slices.

Damn if Steady could remember what the results were. Just one thing stuck out to her: homeostasis and equilibrium. Needing to have a balance.

And as she sipped from her coffee mug - laden with irish cream and vodka, her fingers feeling heavy and mind slipping even farther away - she considered that. Mulled it over. Fixated on the idea.

Having a balance. Two solutions. One lacking and the other too much. Too much of what varied. Energy. Electricity. Food dye. It didn’t matter what - it was just Too Much. A lot. Excess. It needed to be burned off, in the case of energy. Spread and shared around in the case of dye.

One side, flowing into the other. Filling in for the lack and spreading out what was too much. It sounded...nice. Peaceful. The type of ideal tranquility that would strike her on some odd Thursday night, an ordinary day out of ordinary days, and make her begin to weep, curling in on herself.

Steady watched, eyes languid, as Mr. Brett put the potato slices in the water, then took another sip of the syrup, letting it sting her tongue pleasantly.

One time, just before college started, Steady had been struck by the idea that she needed to go camping. Had made it to the door with her old tent pack gear, a couple days’ worth of food and a fishing pole. She didn’t even know if there would be water where she was going. Didn’t even know where she was going. Said as much when her mother asked. Both parents had flown into rages at that, thinking she was running away. Hell if Steady even knew where she was running to, let alone away from, just knew she needed to run.

It happened another time, when she was still working in Detroit. This one had an impulse. ‘New York State of Mind’ by Billy Joel came on the radio, cutting through the static of the afternoon and information technology article write-ups. Steady had to go to New York. Could see it so clearly, her sitting on a bench, watching the taxi lanes clog up, observing the people on their phones and in their nice clothes with her darting eyes. She’d only seen the city on the news, for New Year celebrations, in the older shows before the century.

She got to the receptionist when he’d joked: “Taking a second lunch?”

She’d frozen, hand raised to push the handle, but not quite touching it. The spell broken, she laughed at him. “Just putting my bag in the car. Thinking of taking a walk to wake up.” Nodded. Accepted. Normal response.

She had to be more normal.

There was that other time at college, her mind pivoted to next. She’d stayed up, drifting into hour-long naps once every 24-hour period because, distantly, she knew she needed some rest, and all she’d been doing was writing. Writing writing writing until her wrists were aching with the force of creation.

Then, she crashed for 32 hours, unable to move. When she woke up, groggy and head stuffed full of pain, she’d called home. Explained what had happened.

‘Oh honey, you’re just creative.’

But this was different than all-nighters in high school. Each new idea had been something to explore, a compulsion she had to explore. It was frightening, getting swept up in a tide of creation. Usually the process was freeing. This...this was something else. She was skipping class, realizing only when it was dark out that she hadn’t left to go to the dining hall, that someone - her roommate - had asked if she wanted to go. Then snuck a plate back. Bought a sandwich using Steady’s ID. Put a bottle of water snugged up on the pillow with a smiley face on a sticky note and Steady couldn’t answer her own question: When had that gotten there? When did you last drink water? Shower? Eat? Use the bathroom?

People joked. ‘Who’s your supplier, eh?’

Who knew how long Reese had been standing there. Not Steady, that was for sure. She jumped when she noticed him leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed and a slight crease to his brow. “Heya,” she said, chipper.

“You do this often?” he asked, processing something.

Steady looked around the kitchen. “Cook? Yes. I need to eat food, Reese,” she snorted, going back to slicing the peppers.

“Are you cooking for an army? Was there a new upgrade I didn’t know about, where androids have to eat too?”

Steady bristled a bit. Reese wasn’t laughing. Wasn’t brushing it off. Which meant she’d misstepped. Shit.

Taking inventory of the counter, she tried to think if this was excessive. Was it too much? There was the crockpot with the chili simmering away on low. Had been for the past three hours. Still needed another five or so, which meant it would be ready for her to take to work. Then, she still had pepper left, so she was slicing those up to fry for a fajita mix she’d cook up once the chili vacated the crock pot.

This all had a logical, clear progression.

Steady looked confused at Reese, to see if he was going to fill in any gaps she was missing.

“Are you going to eat that all tonight, or will you be feasting in your dreams?” he asked, holding out his hands at the mess.

Steady followed the hand motions instead of looking at Reese’s face. Couldn’t meet his eyes. Whenever she did look at him, she found herself drawn to his chin, or maybe the wave of his hair or the tattoos he had. Or just the knife in her hand - that was a good idea - to keep an eye on that.

“I mean,” she said, mumbling it now. Voice lower than she needed it to be. Had to pitch it up. Sound like she wasn’t affected - like she normally was. “I’m just not tired. Must be the coffee, whoops.”

Reese frowned. Folded his arms. Watched her. “You...last cup of coffee you had was this morning.”

The blade skipped on the pepper skin. The blade was dull. Knew she had to watch it, or she’d graze her knuckles, slide a fingertip. “Should cut it out entirely,” she replied, smiling ruefully. “Last doc suggested I go straight decaf if I needed to have my hot drink fix. I never went back.”

Reese nodded. Didn’t say anything until Steady was working on the third and final pepper to slice. The pile was consuming the counter space, thin, uneven strips of it falling off the cutting board. “Well, are you going to need help cleaning up…?”

He moved to the sink and Steady jolted. “No.”

Her cry rang out. Probably alerted Rose and Aria. She winced, sucking air through her teeth as she bowed her head over the pepper. “Don’t. I’m good. I’ll clean up after myself.”

“That’s a lot of mess,” Reese started to protest.

“Don’t.”

“Okay.” He relented easy, likely had only been offering to be polite.

Steady eased up, then scooped the peppers up, dropping them into a waiting, warm pan. She turned up the heat, added a dash of butter, then turned to the flank steak. She’d used about half for the chili. Could sear it nicely with the fajita mix. Keep that on low for another-

“It’s nice to see you up and about. Last two weeks you spent on the couch,” Reese said.

Steady shrugged. She was missing something. Something about this scene was odd to him. She had to figure it out, smooth it down, fill in the crack somehow.

Reese patted the island counter. “Well, looks like you’ll be a minute or two. Mind if I…?”

“Go for it,” Steady said, smiling. Forgot why she’d been worried anyway. Probably just paranoid. Nothing to worry about. She busied herself slicing up the beef. Methodical. After a couple of minutes, her mouth began to move of its own accord. Filled in the cracks. And Reese listens. Listened to her story about high school AP biology as she trimmed the fat from the meat. Soaked it in when she relayed the story about camping back in Detroit as she stirred the peppers, appreciating how they were sweating down and charring the bottom of the pan. Tilted his head as he considered her story about wanting to travel to New York.

“Is that why you’re here now?” Reese asked.

“What?”

“New York. Now. Rose hasn’t mentioned how you two met yet.”

“Oh. No. That’s not - I’m. That’s something else, I mean. I always wanted to go to New York, who doesn’t. There was this one time we were going to see a Broadway performance, actually, but the trip just didn’t work out so we went to the local Apple Diner Theater in my hometown instead. Gosh that was such a good - my friend was in it? She was great. Knew her from high school. She used to sneak out with me during lunch breaks. Always smoked. I never did. I mean the harder shit. Sometimes I get a nicotine hit.” Steady shrugged, pushed the meat into the pan. “Wonder what happened to her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I mean, we had a falling out. People always have falling outs with me.” A tightness overtook Steady’s chest and her eyes stung. Must be the peppers. No - that was onions. “Misunderstandings and the like. They get tired. But…” Where had she been going? Right, the play! “It was Wicked! She had the role of the witch…”

And as Steady bustled about in the early hours of the morning, limbs, chest, fingers, heart - mind - racing with electricity, Reese listened. He inclined his head this way and that, shrugged, flashed his palms, wrinkled his nose that caused the burns around his brown eye to crinkle.

Outside the night pressed in, chilling and tran - We should decorate the house for Halloween. Just the inside should be fine. Not too attention grabbing. I can go shopping after work and- quil in its absolute pitch blackness.

And things felt just right.

#inktober #inktober2018 #promptober #dbh fic #my writing #steady writes #day 10 #flowing #hey so this was uuuuhhhh pretty easy to write because most of its nonfiction #imagine that #one day i'll get to leo but i'm less familiar with those struggles honestly #wanna do them right #rkhaus

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lokistories123 · 6 years

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The internship (chapter 2): That’s my girl

Okay so first: to prevent any confusion from happening. This Blog and foreverdrivinginpuddles123 are both my blogs. This blog is the side blog (with fanfiction and NSFW fanart) and foreverdrivinginpuddles123 is the main blog. Also: let me know what you think of this story. I’m not the confident type of person.

Your first official day as an intern.

You woke up by the sound of someone singing. When you quietly laid your head on the door that led to Loki’s room, you could hear it was him. It sounded like a lullaby. You opened the door.

“Hey, Good morning Loki.” Loki was a bit startled that you just opened the door, and he was even more frightened that you’d hear him sing.

“Uhm, hey… good morning Natasha.” You both exchanged smiled.

“How late is breakfast usually?”

“It’s pretty early, but it’s from 7 till 10.”

“That’s not bad. Thanks. I’m going to get dressed and have breakfast then.” You smiled at him and closed the door. You chose to wear black jeans with a white shirt and neon green shoes.

“Good morning Natasha!” Jessica yelled from the other side of the room. You obviously weren’t fully awake yet. You rolled your eyes and smiled at her.

“Hey Jess.”

“Not yet awake, now are we? Did Loki keep you up all night?!” She giggled.

“OMG Jess, no he didn’t. What do you think that’s happening up there?”

“Oh nothing, just you trying to get some extra points” She winked at me and we both laughed.

“No, that’s not me. I’ll just write a pissed of essay on why I should deserve more points, if not done verbally.”

“That’s my girl.” You and Jess got along really well. And she enjoyed your sarcasm.

After 20 minutes when you and Jess were having one last coffee, Loki entered the dining hall. He threw some food on the plate and seated himself next to his brother Thor. You noticed he didn’t exchange one word the whole time. He wasn’t a morning person either. Jess was trained by Natasha Romanoff and Natasha picked her up to start the training

“See you later Nat!” Romanoff eyed her weirdly but then remembered that you shared a name.

“Later Jess!” You were now all by yourself at the intern table. You decided to grab a cup of tea with a cupcake to make the morning enjoyable. After you seated yourself again you noticed Loki walking towards you.

Loki didn't even notice you until you stood up to grab something to drink. You weren’t allowed yet to sit where you wanted, so he decided that he would come to you. He really did want to bond with you, but he was afraid to be himself just yet. That was the reason he usually didn’t tutor any interns, because they were afraid of him. But somehow you were very casual around him and didn’t show any signs.

“How I hate mornings.” Loki said and grabbed Natasha’s cupcake, tore It in half and ate one half of it.

“Join the club. I switched to tea for now. But 90% of my veins are coffee in the morning.” You said sarcastically.

“So, I usually start the morning in the training halls. For most of my morning anger goes into that.”

“Yeah sure. I go where you go.”

“After that I’ll show you around the researching halls and medical halls, may you ever need those. Although I hope not.”

“Okay.” Loki was glad that you were okay with his plans.

You both walked towards the training halls. But then everything came back to you: you were never really good ad defending yourself. When you entered the hall, you could see all sorts of people doing all sorts of “training”. There were different kind of weapons that people were training with: guns, bow ‘n arrows, blades, knifes, electric thingies. And then there were all sorts of fighting skills as well. You stopped walking and turned white. Loki noticed you weren’t walking besides him anymore and turned around.

“What? Did that cupcake turn you stomach?”

“Well… I never did anything that’s happening here right now.” Loki rolled his eyes at you.

“Isn’t that the whole reason you joined the intern program?”

“Not exactly, I thought my medical and technical skills would be at good use. I didn’t think I would be trained into a super spy.” You felt even more awkward since it was Loki you were talking to. You still had to keep away those fangirl feelings (if you know what I mean). You went from white to tomato red.

“Well, it depends on the tutor Natasha. I have little medical knowledge and no technical knowledge. What I do know is how to fight in battles. I’m Asgardian if you’ve forgotten.”

No, you didn’t forget. Look at this man. The divine was dripping off of him. You didn’t want to look like a total loser, so you made the decision for yourself that a bid of stamina wouldn’t hurt nobody.

“Yeah I haven’t forgotten. But before you kill me with impatience, we do have to start from scratch.” Loki shrugged.

“That’s why you’re an intern Nat. Now let’s pick a weapon first.”

Instead of a banquet of foods, there was a banquet with all sorts of weapons. There was something about these daggers that took you interest. You grabbed them both and when you turned to Loki he was smirking.

“What?”

“Those are MY daggers.” Well fuck.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll pick something else.” Shit shit shit you thought to yourself. One way to start a trusted friendship by annoying the hell out of a god. Although if he would do anything, you’d probably say thank you anyway…

“It's fine. We’re here for you anyway. But we should ask for a second pair at HQ.”

You grabbed them both and Loki explained the whole art of throwing daggers and using them in fights. You sucked at first, but after a few tries to throw them at a close “target” (big board) you finally got one to stuck in the board.

“YES.” Was all you could manage to say, and Loki just smirked. You could tell he was enjoying it, but he wasn’t going to give in on the second day.

You trained for another two hours and then it was already 1 PM.

“Okay, Natasha. I think that’s enough for now. I’m starving. Let’s get lunch.” You wanted to go on and on and on, since you were finally getting the hang of it, but you decided to just listen to him before you’d get in trouble.

“Okay.” You handed Loki the daggers, and when he securely put them away again, you went back to the eating halls. It had turned from a breakfast feast into a lunching feast.

Loki immediately went for the food and you went after him. But Loki didn’t seat himself at the table you were seated, no, he seated himself next to the Avengers. But he didn’t talk at all. You did feel a bit hurt. But you also understood the ranking systems. He was the tutor and you were the intern.

Jessica wasn’t there, and neither were James or Katherine. You did know the other interns, but they weren’t THAT nice too you. There were even a pair of guys throwing sexual comments at you the WHOLE time.

“Looking fine Holmes, what did you do?”

“How about you come to my room and I’ll show you some tutoring.”

“Is Loki a bottom or a top? How much work do you have to do to get those points?”

You didn’t even sit for 3 minutes, but you decided to call it quits and just wait for dinner and hope that some nice people would be there as well.

“SHUT UP YOU ASSHOLES!” you threw your plate with food at one guy and the other got the drink thrown at his head. You shoved the chair backwards with so much force that even the chair got damaged. You angrily walked out of the eating halls.

“NATASHA!” You could hear Loki calling after you. It wasn’t anger in his voice, but worry.

You entered your door and slammed it shut as hard as you could. You were still smart enough to lock both doors. Quickly after that you heard someone knocking.

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Nat? Are you okay? I just walked in when I saw you throwing your food at those guys. Is everything okay?” You could hear it was Jessica.

“Yeah, just some horny assholes. But I need some alone-time. Please.”

“Okay, if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.” You could hear Jessica walking away. You threw yourself on the bed and started tearing up a bit. What a hell this would be if those guys were to keep bothering you for a whole year!

After a while you fell asleep and when you woke up there was a tall figure standing next to your bed. You quickly slammed your fist at it and went out of bed the other side.

“Ah, for fucks sake!” After your eye-sight finally woke up too, you noticed it was Loki that you just punched in the crotch area. He was in a bit of pain. You walked up to him to comfort him.

“Loki, I’m so sorry. I thought one of those sneaky bastards sneaked up in to my room, to do god knows what.”

“Nope. Just a sneaky bastard in general.” He said with a high voice.

“Oh my god, please don’t kill me.”

“Nat! Stop thinking that I’m going to kill you.”

“Sorry, I really am sorry!”

“It’s okay. We’re okay. If I knew you better I might say I need a kiss on my booboo, but let’s not do that.” He laughed. You didn’t know what to do, so you just stood there frozen.

“That was a Joke Natasha. You’re supposed to laugh at one.” Loki said smiling.

“I was pretty sure, that you were going to kill me after that!” You pointed at his crotch.

“Well, you had your reasons. I didn’t quite notice what was going on back there, but I did hear it from some other interns. Why are they making sex jokes?” You really didn’t feel very comfortable to even bring up that word to him, but you had some explaining to do.”

“One guy even has a black eye. You threw that plate with quite some anger…”

“Well.. Everyone is thinking I’m sleeping with you for A. the whole internship in the first place and B. for extra points. They think this because I AM staying at your guest room. They also say that the other tutors say you don’t get close to anyone really, and now you’re tutoring an intern. And since I’m a woman 1+1 makes 2.” You had a sad expression on your face and you hated the idea of making Loki feel bad.

“Oh! So that’s the reason why everyone’s been acting so weird... Like I said at the interview, you have something that interests me. But that doesn’t mean I want you as my personal little fucktoy like Tony does with his interns. And there was no place anymore at the intern’s wing, so I came up with an idea myself. Some humans are so stupid.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Well, yeah. I know that, but the other 99,9% that walks here doesn’t.”

“I’m not going to explain myself to those children. And even if we did have a sexual relationship. It would be none of their business.” HE was so goddamn casual with al this sexual stuff, while I almost had a bleeding nose even trying to talk about it. Must be because he has like a thousand years of wisdom in his pretty head. You just stood there with a questioning face.

“I can tell, this isn’t your favorite subject to talk about?”

“No. But just let it go. I hope they’ll stop after what I just did, and if they don’t… I’m going to need those daggers of yours.” Loki smiled.

“That’s my girl.” You could feel a friendship starting to come together.

#The internship #Chapter 2 #Loki #Reader #loki x reader #loki x you #fanfic #my fic #fanfiction #multichapter #intern #tutor

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foreverdrivinginpuddles123 · 6 years

Text

The internship (chapter 2) : That’s my girl

Okay so first: to prevent any confusion from happening. This Blog and Lokistories123 are both my blogs. This blog is the main blog and Lokistories123 is the side blog (with fanfiction and NSFW fanart). Also: let me know what you think of this story. I’m not the confident type of person.