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final-fantasy-mama · 5 years

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Licorice Twists and Cinnamon Buns

''FFXIV: Emet Selch X Wol Licorice twists and cinnamon buns This is drabble for now but I do have a plot planned for future chapters. First part is fluff, second part is a bit angsty. Enjoy! ********************************************************************************

(Very sorry for any spelling mistakes, I don’t have a spell checker and have to edit manually so I miss many mistakes)

It wasn't often that the Warrior of Light got time to herself for anything. Most days were spent tending to battle wounds, civilian requests and the ever growing demands of her scion brethren but today was special. Today she had a full day all to herself and should she decide to rest, she could roost in bed till the chocobos came home. But she was a restless soul and having that much free time made her a bit antsy. So she wore her best casual clothes, a off shoulder sun dress and sandals, and made for the Musica Universalis for a small walk about. And as always, following closely in her shadows was her ever sneaky and equally snarky ascian companion, Emet Selch.

He had often spied in on her whenever it suited his fancy though she was quick to catch on to his Aether trail, making any chances of sneaking up on her null and void. If he kept his distance enough she couldn’t distinguish his presence from the multitudes of others within the crystarium which was the only opportunity he had to observe her habits and actions unabieted. He wasn’t really one to take too much of an interest in anyone or anything outside his devotions to Zodiark but he had to admit this one Hyur Female caught his undivided attention.

She was pretty in a simple way, with features that could have easily passed for Garlean if it weren’t for her height. Not that Emet Selch placed much value on physical appearances outside of his own. And she was strong, oh so strong and noble in a un nauseating way. She never spouted nonsense of high ideals and morality, was pragmatic, straightforward and witty.

Now he watched her walk through the crystarium, stopping now and then to look at what bits and baubles surrounded her, her head tilting to one side as she studied everything with a keen eye only a warrior could possess. He watched from the shadows of a nearby pillar how her eyes lit up while she looked at a merchants jewelry stall, picking up a necklace and holding it to her chest while staring in the mirror afforded to her by the vendor.

All women were wanton creatures for fine jewels and furs. Oh how he could give her all that and more were she his woman. What a empress she would have made with her proud face and feminine features but he didnt know her back then and avoided all contact with her or her shards on the other stars. She was a poor sundered creature after all, albiet a charming one, and he didn’t need any more misery in his immortality then what was already afforded to him. If she had any clue just how far back her shards and former selves went, who and what she was, she kept it keenly to herself. He wondered just how much she did know. She never really talked about her memories short of what was absolutely necessary.

She struggled with the clasp of the necklace and just when he was about to step in to do it for her, a certain other man did it instead. The crystal exarch was making his rounds through town. Emet Selch gritted his teeth as her eyes turned to the cowled man and truly sparkled, her red lips spreading into a wide smile as she thanked him. They made casual banter with each other, each laughing and smiling as they walked away, her hand holding his arm in a way that was too intimate for the ascians liking.

That slick conniving whelp of a man! Emet sneered as he followed them in the shadows. Look how she touches him so casually, like 2 fools in love! What can this creature offer a warrior like her? By what magic did he bring her here and dare to speak to her so fondly! He stopped his train of thoughts and held his breath. He had seen this scene before oh so many millenia ago when the hero had been alive in Amarout. But it was a memory Emet did not want to remember and he quickly pushed it out of his mind.

The hero and the exarch stopped at a small candy shop and the hero exclaimed how she hadn’t sampled some of the confections since her childhood. She filled a small paper bag with her favorites and vowed to share it with her child when they reunited. Her daughter, only 8 years of age, and the only family she had in the source. Surely that child must have looked like her mother. Emet could see it as surely as his own children took after his late wife. Oh those long lost days when he had some small measure of happiness but lives came and went so quickly and thus his happiness was only temporary if not fleeting.

The couple moved on, once again arm in arm, their happy voices talking of frivolous things. The Hero leaning in and squeezing her shoulder into the exarchs as he hid his head shyly in his hood. In fact she seemed to go out of her way to make any sort of physical contact with her partner weather it was a touch of the hands, squeezing his arm tightly against her chest in a flirtatious manner or leaning in so her forehead was almost against the exarch. The shy Exarch laughing nervously but accepting her little showers of affections non the less. It made Emet suspicious.

It would seem those two have a history with each other....how interesting. He clenched his fists at his sides tightly. She is obvious in her affections for him but he tries to hide how much she affects him. Ah, the exarch is hiding his identity but she already knows......then that would mean the exarch is not a native of the 1st and they both hailed from the source....by what means did he arrive her and manage to bring her as well?

When the couples time came to part, the exarch kissed the fair ladies hand and waved goodbye as she watched him go, once again left to her own devices in the market place. She did not move from her spot as he dissappeared from view and Emet used that chance to sneak up behind her, or at least try. She knew he was coming a mile away.

"Shopping for a swanking new coat Emet?" She asked as she turned to him and gave him her usual coy look.

"Shopping for a new lover?" He shot back and jutted his chin in the direction the exarch had left.

The hero smiled something sly and admitted easily. "Mmmm Hmmmm. That man is a cinnamon roll and I just want to bite right into him."

"So that's your type." The ascian said dryly.

"And you, you sneaky bastard." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Are Black Licorice."

"Licorice!?" He asked in surprise.

The hero reached into her paper bag and pulled out a black twig of candy, holding it up this face before saying, "They make it, so someone must love to eat it but most people want to spit it out after one bite!"

He pursed his lips as he stared down at the feisty lady who so defiantly waved her candy in his face and for once in his immortal life, he was speechless. He wasn’t sure if he should get angry or laugh. Her barbs at him were easily becoming legendary.

She didn’t wait for him to answer before taking a hearty bite out of the black candy. "Lucky for you I have acquired a taste for Licorice." and gave him her oh so sweet smile which meant both good things and dangerous things. He had to smile back and she noted how soft his face was when he was happy. He almost looked kind when he was like that as opposed to his usual grumpy self.

"Zodiark’s mercy hero, are you admitting you're in love with me?" He drawled out and held his hand to his heart.

"Hydaelyn’s blessing Emet Selch, You're such a drama king." She shot back and turned to walk away. "Lets see its just past 2....its a good time to break for tea. Join me if you dare."

"Bothering you is the only thing I have to look forward to in my day." He admitted and followed after her. **************************************** They both seated themselves at a small table within the atrium next to the market and ordered a few plates of cheeses and meats along with some pastries. The hero poured tea into two saucers and slid one over to him as she sat down in a wooden chair and fanned herself with the menu.

"How do you survive in the Jacket? Its bloody hot out here." She complained.

"Is that your way of asking me to take it off?" He wiggled his brows at her and sipped his tea oh so properly like the blue blood he was.

She laughed. "Actually I am curious what’s under all that, I won’t lie."

He quickly unbuckled the front and in a dramatic flourish, stood up and swept if off his shoulders as he placed it on the back of his chair. The undershirt he wore was a plain white cotton one with a few buttons down the chest and loose sleeves.

"If you ask politely I may take off even more." He purred and She nearly spat out her tea.

"Woah their partner, you need to leave something to my imagination." She smirked and took a long sip of tea before reaching into her blouse and producing a small metal case from her brasier. She opened it up with a click and pulled a small cigarillo from it, put it to her lips and lit it with the small lighter. She took a long drag and offered one to her company.

Emet shook his head lightly. "A habit you picked up adventuring?"

"A habit I picked up from one of my "others" who was a middle aged drunk whiskey lover, smoked like a chimney and ate bacon like pork was going out of season." She laughed.

When She fumbled with her cigar case a piece of paper fell out. It was a small photo of some sort of a small child with dark brown hair and a cherubs smile, riding on the back of a tall elezen male with light blue hair and a equally charming smile. If he didn’t know any better he would have said this was a family photo but the child looked nothing like that man in the photo so he knew instantly the she wasn’t his

. "Your daughter and....?" He asked.

"Haurchefant Greystone, one of my dearest friends. He passed away a few years ago." She sipped her tea. "He had a way with children and my daughter fell in love with him. She said that If I didn’t marry him then she would." The small smile on her face spoke volumes of her feelings for this man.

"At first all the adventuring was just to secure some money for myself and my daughter....and then I was discovered by the scions....I suppose the rest after that was just cause and effect or the results of being the warrior of light." she shrugged and tucked the photo away. “After an attempted assassination on the Sultana of Ul Dahl, myself and the scions had to go into hiding. So I took my daughter with me to Ishgard where we parlayed for our protection. Haurchefant was the first to extend any hospitality to us and took care of us. He was really a wonderful friend.” She said fondly.

“You were in love with him.” Emet stated and she couldn’t deny it.

“I suppose I was. But his life was cut short and after that there was no one else, I never even bothered looking or trying.” she admitted sadly.

The Ascian looked at the hero carefully, noting how sad her eyes looked in that moment. She was lonely even though she would never admit it, using her duty with the scions as an excuse to fill her time. For one small moment, Emet saw something else as he looked at her, the ghost of another who’s face was equally sad but always had a small smile on her lips. He blinked the apparition away.

"Your child is what grounds you to this reality. You would fight and die for her." Emet said matter of factly. It was a universal fact that a mother protecting her young was the fiercest thing in the cosmos, something he had witnessed first hand so long ago. This will to protect is exactly what brought about Hydaelyn to begin with. In all these years, after all these rebirths and in all her incarnations, that one truth never changed, she would protect those near and dearest to her even if it meant tearing the universe apart. her child was the source of her power.

The uncomfortable reality that the child would die in the grand plan of the ascians was not lost on the hero or him. It was a unspoken truth that would always be the catalyst of her never ending battles with all her enemies and him. As cordial as the two were with each other, the fact that at the end of the day one or the other was going to be destroyed was not ever going to change.

The hero stared up at the glass ceiling and finished off her cigarillo, putting it out in the small ashtray on the table. Her heart felt heavy thinking of the future, of his and hers but it wasn’t something she could express in words, its just the nature of her being Hydaelyn’s blessed and him beings Zodiark’s Tempered. When she turned her head to him it was obvious he had been thinking the exact same thing.

"Oh hero, don’t look at me like that." He cooed in a oh so sweet voice. "All is not lost yet, there is still time to change my mind. If you can accomplish the impossible then even I will be forced to throw my lot in with you. We Ascians don’t wish for our own destruction you know."

The hero cleared her throat and swallowed back her feelings, replacing it with a smile. "What a pair we make, Architect."

"Oh yes, the warrior of light and her arch enemy sitting together drinking tea. What is this universe coming to?"

"Shite apparently." She laughed.

"I'll drink to that." Emet agreed and they clinked glasses.

“So what’s next on our agenda?”

“101 ways to destroy the world.” He replied dryly.

She gawked at him. “Not funny!”

“You’re still laughing on the inside.”

She shoved a big piece of cake into her mouth and said in a muffled voice. “I laugh only so I don’t cry.”

He reached over a caught a dollop of frosting from the corner of her mouth then licked it off his white gloves slowly and deliberately.

She blinked twice. “Oh that was smooth.”

“Full glad am I to hear that.” He purred.

“Have you made it your personal mission to seduce me?” She squinted at him.

“Seeing as you get flustered when a man expresses desire for you, I’ve made it my mission to make you as uncomfortable as possible from here on out.” He admitted.

“Flustered?!” You gasped and that made him chuckle.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve hero.”

“I’ll wear a mask then.” She said suddenly and it made him stop. He watched her for a second before turning back to his tea.

He looked down into the brown water. “A thousand masks for a thousand desires.” He said off handedly.

She watched him carefully but didn’t quite grasp his meaning, something about it though made her heart feel strange. A small moment of recognition and longing. For him? For this ascian drinking tea with her? Surely not, but maybe just maybe for the man Emet Selch had been.

(I wasn’t sure how to end this so i abruptly did before it prattled on again. Next chapter will be main story driven and have more character development for Emet. Its just fun to write fluff for characters who are notoriously not fluffy lol)

#emet selch #ascian #shadowbringers #fanfiction #final fantasy xiv #crystal exarch

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icecreamvi · 5 years

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Miles Edgeworth Investigations 2 suit review

skipping ahead a bit to do this game, thank you @fam-account

6/10

now this is a nice suit, with fairly good colors. except for the fact that the buttons on the suit are set too low. if you notice they hang around the crotch to bellybutton area, where they should instead be in the bellybutton to chest area. plus there is NO DARTING ONCE AGAIN. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER EDGEWORTH. and the waistcoat. eehhhhhhhh. once again improper amount of buttons, and honestly it doesnt need lapels but its not too terrible of a style.

im pretending that the crabot doesnt exist okay. it doesnt exist

6/10

now time for the daddyworth

for a trench coat.... this isnt the best....

first off, trench coats should be slim cut, there should be no bulk since the style is made to make you look sleek. this coat is just slightly too big which you can tell thanks to the sagging around the belt area. also lets talk about the belt area. since where??? is his belt buckle???? wha- no just no, thats flimsy it will fall apart faster without one.

and with a heavy heart i must say that there is an improper amount of buttons

again

“but vi” you cry “what if its just the style!” if if was the style it wouldnt need a belt, since it has a belt it needs at least 2 more buttons below the belt for it to be proper

i added a point for managing to pull off a fedora

8/10

ayyyy now we are talking! god i can see why edgeworth is drawn to phoenix, he has the same style suit as his father! It looks to be really well tailored (and it has a properly done tie! nice!) the suit looks so smooth i just want to touch it ooh nice. The only issue i can see here is that the sleeves are just too big. you can tell by the way they dont pull back when gregory lifts his arm (this is the opposite of klaviers problem) even still its a nice suit

8/10

as an added bonus here is dead gregory! because i forgot about him last time

lmao

now its hard to see with all the blood and the fact that its in greyscale, but from what i can see this is a fairly good suit! its seems well cut, the style suits him, the pockets are properly done, i dont really have anything to complain about besides the dead body, its times like these where I wish the most that Manfred didn’t kill him

7/10

Speaking of manfred, he also appears in this game. Now why? you ask might i rate this lower than his last incarnation despite it being nearly identical. Well I do what I want thats why, and my standard for suits has risen too. The Lapels on this are huge and the details confuse me. Are they part of the fabric? Are they embroidered? What are they? Plus I still have no clue as to how the vest functons whatsoever,,,but added points for having an actual jabot and not edgeworths fake ass one.

Why does he look like an evil Beethoven

0/10

I want to die. Please god, take your cruel hand and strike me down where I stand.

Its so....muscley. Thanks! I hate it! Like? purple and orange, on a suit, tailored so tightly that you can see every individual muscle. what deviantart fetish artist designed this. Its so long too, and not in a good way like miles’s dd suit but in a bizarre dress like way. I hate it

5/10

eeeeeeeuuuuuuuughghhhhhhhhhh

ok first off, why roll up your sleeves that high with your suit jacket still on? just take off the jacket jfc. you’re gonna damage the suit. secondly, that cummerbund is waaay too high. it fucking hits his nipples oh my god. local dumbass has pants all the way up to his armpits, more at 10. At least he has the sense to wear a shawl lapel, looking as hes going for a white tie leaning style, and as an added bonus hes actually wearing a corsage that matches!

7/10

I love that tacky ass tie more than i should but its still ugly as all hell. and yet! the rest of the suit is good. crisp tailoring, proper amount of buttons (especially on the sleeves) the pants look perfect and i love the added pop of color by having the shirt be teal instead of white. this suit is so stupid thanks to the tie but i will die on this hill dont @ me alright. also he has!!!! a belt!!!! technically suits shouldnt have a belt since if they were tailored properly they wouldnt need one, but shut up i like belts

7/10

Yay! another corpse!!! alright so this is basically the same as the previous one, added point for nicer color scheme, removed point for lack of darting in the jacket

stop shooting the nice suits

5/10

oh come on. the suit is nice enough, very horse-ridingish but the main problem here is that its too large all over. the shoulders slouch, the jacket is too long, the pants too baggy, you really shoulnt have to roll up your sleeves that far. why is everyone allergic to darting here oh my god. plus the corsage(?) is in the wrong place, it should be in the area where they got shot at, i have no idea how she would even be wearing it unless she just tacked it on with safety pins and grit.

and boots arent my specialty, but those look uncomfortable as hell

a moment of silence for those who didnt count as suits enough to make the cut

as a special bonus

view her in all her beauty

my heart says 10/10 but my mind is giving her a 7

let me explain why. although the cloak is very nice (it seems catholic inspired, specifically based off of bishops and cardinals cementing her place as a holy figure of respect) the chest area is rather tight. since her appearance is based around nuns and bishops we really shouldnt be seeing so much of her chest details. the purpose of robes like these is to cover thy self as a form of modesty out of respect for god (to be fair she worships a different god than we know) but my point still stands. the rest of her outfit is fine, but her chest, as much as i like it, is not. my only other complaint is that im not sure how the sash stays up with how much its tilted to one side. all i can imagine is her hiking that thing up all day.

#justine courtney #miles edgeworth #gregory edgeworth #manfred von karma #ace attorney #thank you fam-account

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

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ask your destiny to dance [15] {Roger Taylor}

A/N: Medium smut.

[masterpost]

The day Ash hears Doing Alright on the radio at her favourite cafe, she screams. This, of course, upsets the other patrons considerably, but before anyone can complain, she’s shoving her fabric samples and sketchbook into her bag, sculling her lukewarm hot chocolate, and is bolting down the street. Until, of course, she’s winded enough to slow down, and decides it’s easier to catch a bus to Brian and Roger’s apartment.

She’s been there before, it’s where they insisted on having their first fitting, since it was the apartment with the most room, and sometimes on afternoons she hangs out there with the band and Mary, sure, it’s not like she’s a complete stranger to the flat. Knocking on the door, she’s breathing heavily, still excited, and she’s not sure why she’s come here, rather than to see Freddie, but as soon as the door opens, she knows why.

“I heard you guys on the radio!” Barging past a confused Roger into the living room, she turns on her heel, still a little out of breath from having run from the closest bus stop, and her smile is blinding.

“Really? Which station?” And instead of asking her about her state, or the book bag on her hip, he’s elated, making his way to the radio in their little shoe box kitchen. Ash laughs, joining him, sheepishly admitting that it was about twenty minutes ago, but he’s undeterred. “Grab the phone; we can call them up and ask to hear it again.”

The station’s blaring some Beatles song by the time they get to it, but Ash is sitting on the counter, waiting patiently for the song to end so that the radio host could announce which number to call for requests. Roger’s buzzing about the kitchen, talking how apparently Mary’s heard them played at Biba too, and his mouth is moving a mile a minute, but then the number is said and Ash is dialing as fast as her fingers will allow. With her legs hanging off the edge of the counter, Roger taps at her knees, lips pressed together where he’s trying to keep his excitement quiet.

When the host picks up, and Ash says her name tentatively, only to hear it come out of the radio a few seconds later, Roger whispers ‘holy shit’ and Ash has to fight to not say the same. Clearly and carefully she requests Keep Yourself Alive, and specifies who it’s by and what record it’s on, and minutes later, the opening notes of the song waiver from the radio, and Ash hangs up, wide-eyed. Jumping from the counter, Ash dumps her bag beside their sofa, absolutely butchering the vocals where she struts around the room, pretending to be Freddie, loud and unselfconscious in her excitement. Roger’s matching her energy, throwing himself onto one of the metal folding chairs they had as dining room chairs, air drumming and providing harmonies that would have worked if Ash wasn’t almost completely tone deaf.

As the song moves to an instrumental section, Ash changes to enthusiastically air guitarist, jumping up onto the sofa, expression almost comically intense.

“Well, I loved a million women in a belladonic haze,” while Roger suspected the notes were entirely in her vocal range, she didn’t seem to be able to hit one, and after a moment, he’d dissolved into laughter, and wrapped his arms around her waist where she was posing with a foot up on the arm of the sofa, spinning her around before putting her back on the ground, and the drums kicked in on the radio, and she looks so fucking proud.

“That doesn’t sound half bad.” She says, grinning up at him, and he’s still got his arms around her.

“Unfortunately I can’t say the same about your singing, love.” He snickered, and Ash felt herself blush as she swatted at him, too excited to be properly annoyed, also too self aware to call him a liar.

“So you don’t think I could take Freddie’s place yet?” She asks, and Roger actually laughs at that, and Ash thinks she can feel his heart beating fast. “Where’s Brian?” She asks, voice dropping to a murmur, her own blood rushing as the song continues on.

“Still at class.” And there’s the hint of a question in his voice, and Ash’s smile stretches into a mischievous grin, something almost fond in her eyes.

“You guys are on the radio.” She murmured, pride in her voice, though her eyes are growing dark as her gaze drops to his lips. “Rog?” And he makes a hum of acknowledgement, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing or kissing her before she can finish her thought. “Does that make me a groupie?”

“Well groupies are usually throwing themselves at me.” He said with a cocky smirk, sitting them both on the sofa, sinking into the worn, brown fabric as Ash straddled him.

“I practically bolted to your house.” Ash had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, sitting back on his thighs. One of her hands was on his shoulder, the other playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and Roger leaned into her touch, just a little.

“I’m not usually accosted by girls who wear the same clothes as my dad in summer.” Roger snickers, eyes drifting down to Ash’s choice of attire. She’s quiet for a long moment, and realises that he’s probably never seen her dress so casually; she’d just intended to get some sketches done at the cafe, she’d never intended people she knew to see her, and so her choice of oversized, pale blue button-down with rolled up sleeves and paint smudges all over it, tucked into navy cargo shorts, had been a perfectly acceptable outfit at the time. She’s even got her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and suddenly she feels like a mess, but the way Roger’s smiling at her, she can’t bring herself to care.

“I’m an artist, I’m allowed to dress tragically sometimes.” She shrugs, and Roger’s grip on her hips tightens as he laughs. It’s strange, mid afternoon and she’s in his house, in his lap, it feels like a whole new world. Their debatable hidden affair was usually confined to the wee hours of the morning, or the late morning depending on when they wake up, but now his hair catches the sunlight pouring in through the window, and he’s casual too. He’s wearing a pair of hideous, little red shorts that she’d seen him play in once, and a t-shirt with a faded design on the front, and for a moment she frowns, because god, does he have no sense of style? As soon as he asks about it, and she voices her thoughts, he gives her a shove, calls her a hypocrite. Leaning in low, she murmurs for him to just take the shirt off, but he doesn’t move.

“You first.” He’s got an eyebrow raised as a challenge, and Ash hums thoughtfully, before her fingers are unbuttoning her shirt, and untucking it. She’s wearing a bra that’s comfortable rather than aesthetically pleasing, and for all that he’s seen her naked, he thinks this might be the most honest he’s actually seen her.

He’s the one to suggest they move, not that it didn’t hurt a little, with Ash wearing only her oversized shirt unbuttoned, and her panties, splayed out against his ratty brown sofa, looking up at him with wide eyes that had been darkened with lust.

She’s never been in his room before, and she’s not quite sure what she expected. It’s bigger than her room, but not by too much, clothes strewn over the floor, and the end of the bed, which is also bigger than hers, a double, instead of her little single, a cheap looking bed frame and a small but solid desk shoved into the corner and stacked high with books, which intrigues her. Roger closes the door as she makes her way over, fascinated as she reads the spines of what turns out to be worn textbooks.

“You there for some light reading?” Roger wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck, his chest firm against her back. There’s notebooks that look well used, and a piece of paper with a whole list of numbers, letters, and symbols that Ash can’t decipher for the life of her, amid pencils and a pretty grubby looking eraser.

“You like, actually study, don’t you?” And when she turns, there’s almost something adoring in her eyes, endeared, and Roger raises his eyebrows at her unanticipated reaction.

“Always the tone of surprise.” He huffed out a laugh, his hands drifting lower to squeeze her bum, and when he leans in to kiss her, it’s sun-warmed and familiar, fitting together easily as he pressed her against the desk and she hopped to sit on it easily, legs parting to pull him closer as he kissed his way down her neck. He fucks her against the desk, even though she’s pretty sure she’s sitting on a notebook and also a pencil, but she can’t bring herself to care.

When they move to the bed, he snickers at the smudge of graphite on her ass, but she’s hit with a realisation she can’t help but voice.

“I never thought I’d be here.” And she’s a little breathy, gasping for a moment as he brings one of her legs up to her chest and eases back into her.

“Really?” His voice rises in disbelief, pausing in his movements as if to emphasise his point, and Ash rolls her hips once, biting her lip to stifle a chuckle.

“I mean, in the beginning, no way; I honestly never thought we’d last this long.” She says, and Roger’s quiet. Not needing an answer, she lets herself enjoy the moment, relaxing against the bedspread, whimpers and gasps escaping her as her eyes fall closed. She’s so fucking beautiful, Roger thinks, and even if he doesn’t say it, he’s so glad they lasted, after everything, if only for this moment.

And then they’re moving, Ash pressing at his shoulder, urging them to move, Roger laying back against the bed as Ash rode him, throwing her head back, with her nails digging into his chest. It’s enough to make him hiss, his hips rolling to meet hers, and when she looks down at him with a heady smile, she leans down and presses a kiss to the half-moon marks her nails had left, before she’s peppering kisses along his chest and throat.

When Brian walks in the front door and sees them both eating pizza and reading trivia to one another from the paper, he has to take a moment. Ash is wearing one of Roger’s shirts. Roger isn’t wearing a shirt at all.

“I know you two are sleeping together.” He announces from the doorway.

“Interesting accusation.” Ash responds without looking away from the paper. Roger makes a hum of agreement.

“You’re wearing his clothes.” Brian says, walking over and picking up a slice of pizza for himself.

“That is my shirt.” Roger agrees, finally looking up to Brian, and Ash takes a big bite.

“Listen, Brian, sometimes friends sleep together, it’s not the end of the world.” Ash said around her mouthful of pizza, which was lost on him, and Roger had to translate for her, much to Brian’s bewilderment.

“So you’re finally admitting it?” He asks, and Ash hums, swallowing before looking up at him.

“Admitting that I came over here excited about hearing your song on the radio, and then, I suppose, one thing led to another? Yes.” Ash agreed, and Brian looked like he was quickly forming a headache.

“Neither of you are as subtle as you think you are; I know this isn’t the first time.” He sighed, and Ash turned to Roger, who raised his eyebrows, feigning mock surprise. He’s about to say something, but it’s as if Brian can already tell it’s going to be irritating and dismissive. “Listen, Ash, you’re an adult, and you’re also our stylist, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Believe me, she does.” Roger says, reaching for some more pizza, ending his statement with a very pointed cough. Ash, looking supremely pleased with herself, watches Brian turn bright red and head for his own room, not slamming the door, but coming close.

“Freddie and John will know by the end of tomorrow I suspect.” Ash muses, and Roger looks at her, a little curious.

“Is that okay?” And he actually seemed like he would offer to do something if it wasn’t. Ash gives him a small smile.

“They were going to find out eventually.” She paused, but only for a moment. “We should probably keep it simple and say it started after you broke up with Kristin.”

“That wasn’t that long ago.” He said softly. Ash shrugs.

“It was like a month and a half ago; it’s believable.” She offered, and Roger hums thoughtfully, sliding across the sofa to rest his head in her lap. She’s tempted to rest her slice of pizza on his face, but ultimately decides against it. The way he’s smiling at her, grin just a little sharp, she’s pretty sure he watched the idea pass through her mind too.

“Do you know what time the next bus comes, I should probably get going before it gets dark and people are more likely to stab me.” She asks carefully, and Roger’s expression turns thoughtful as he watches her eat, quietly waiting for a response.

“Seems a bit extreme; you know you could just stay.” It’s so casual the way he says it, and Ash shrugs, accepting the offer without much thought. His bed is far more comfortable than hers, though he’s not living in uni housing, so you’d hope it was, and it’s big enough to spread out in. But they don’t. When they’re not fooling around, they’re chatting about everything and nothing, as they were sometimes want to do, and Ash gets around to asking him about his degree just as she’s about to fall asleep. They’re holding hands, which again, not necessarily something Ash had expected when they’d first started out, but she’s on her side with her free hand beneath her pillow. She’s just wearing one of his shirts and her underwear, and she brings their hands up to rest between their heads on the mattress, arm now at a more comfortable angle, and she drifts off as Roger gets in to complaining about one of his classes.

By the time he realises she’s not paying attention, she’s already mostly asleep. There’s something about the way she sleeps that makes her seem almost innocent, perhaps it’s that she’s not trying to put up a front, and her mass of ginger hair halos her, so soft it almost hurts. Roger’s never conciously thought of a woman as ‘sweet’ before, but it’s the only word that fits in this moment. He presses a fond kiss to her knuckles of her joined hand. Ash stirs just a little, making a hum of acknowledgement that Roger knew all too well as ‘completely passed out, just felt a sensation, can maybe spout a few random words’.

Except it’s not just some random gibberish. It’s two words spoken through a yawn:

“Love you.”

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#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #ask your destiny to dance fic #bohemian rhapsody imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #queen #queen imagines #queen imagine #brian may #the angry lizard writes

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inifitywar · 6 years

Text

she is perfection //james march

pairing: james march x mute!reader

word count: 2324

warnings: self-deprecation, low self-esteem, mention of cheating, sexual assault, swearing, mention of alcohol, light choking, physical violence, angst.

a/n: this is a collab with the lovely @ahswitchy. our parts are separated by a simple insert line, starting with her. we hope you enjoy! x

i took one last place in the mirror before nodding my head to myself and spinning on my heels to leave mine and james’ shared room.

the dress i was wearing was pretty simple. plain, black fabric with long sleeves, the skirt resting by knees length. on my feet, just flats. even though my friends liz and elizabeth would try their best to persuade me into wearing more fancy and revealing outfits, i simply couldn't. catching people attention had always made me feel anxious, and the thought of so many eyes staring right at me made me feel sick to my stomach.

that would be my first time joining devils night. at first i didnt want to go. but, still, james insisted so much that i ended up just accepting it. he’d always done everything for me, so why couldn't i?

knowing i stil had 20 minutes or so left until devil’s night actually began, i decided to make my way to the bar, knowing liz would hound me later if she didn’t get to see me all dressed up. anytime i wear anything dressier than jeans and a sweatshirt liz practically coos over me because, “sweetie, with just a little lipstick and some heels, you could just about sweep any man off his feet.”

making my way through the halls, i turn a corner to find james and elizabeth. quickly, i duck behind one of the walls, hoping i wasn’t seen.

you see, despite james loving me no matter what i wear, he especially adores when i get dressed up, even if it is just with a simple dress. knowing this, i informed him that we would meet at the dinner instead of just going together, wanting to surprise him so i could see him get all flustered. unsurprisingly, he refused, insisting that we greet the guests together, with me by his side. but he also knew that he was already walking on thin ice, considering that i had barely agreed to attend in the first place, so he reluctantly complied.

although james would never admit to getting flustered around me, i still see it. when his voice gets caught in his throat and his eyes drag up my body to meet mine. but of course, he never lets his composure fall for more than a moment before he’s already gathered himself and greeted me with a compliment that would make any woman blush. although those moments are quick, the look we share says that we both know it won’t be long before my dress and his trousers are tossed upon the carpet.

dragging my attention back to the two, i let out a sigh relief, praising whatever higher power there is that they hadn’t spotted me. more importantly, that james hadn’t spotted me. elizabeth seeing me wasn’t really a concern. given, she’s wasn't exactly the lover i was trying to woo.

watching them quietly, which is a routine i seem to have mastered. no doubt, owing it all to the time i’ve spent toward perfecting my body language and movement, as they are the focal points to my communication.

seeing james and elizabeth together had never bothered me much, for elizabeth has always been one of my closest friends in the hotel and i knew she wasn’t interested in james. and don’t get me wrong, i wasn’t second guessing her intentions now, but i couldn’t help but feel something in the pit of my stomach as i watched them.

i wasn’t close enough to hear the two but i could see them just fine. james was already dressed for devil’s night, he switched out his usual formal attire for something a bit darker and more crisp. he looked utterly handsome, even more so than usual, which is saying a lot.

elizabeth was adorned in one of her many stunning gowns. i couldn’t help but glance back down at my dress and compare the two. sure, my dress was simple, but i had thought it was elegant. but looking at elizabeth’s gown was starting to make me second guess my choice of attire. i mean hell, she wasn’t even trying. she wore prada on her lazy days and here i was, thinking i went all out, wearing a plain black dress and flats to james’ most important event of the year. even james was taken with her gown, or rather, what was underneath.

an unfaithful man was something james would never be, i knew this as a fact. but that didn’t stop his eyes from roaming about her figure. i could see elizabeth roll her eyes at him, clearly uninterested, confirming what i already knew to be true.

they continued to talk and although i couldn’t hear them, i had no doubt her voice sounded like honey. i mean, the woman could quote a book about politics and still make it sound sexy. how is that even possible?

taking a deep breath, i leaned back against the wall, letting myself slide down until i was finally just sitting. thoughts filled my mind, some were of betrayal, but mostly just insecurity. my thoughts of betrayal were immediately followed by thoughts of guilt. after all, it wasn’t like he actually cheated on me or did anything wrong. all he did was look at her, and how could he not? she was alluring in every aspect, the way she looked, the way she smelled, the way she moved, the way she felt, the way she talked. she was, in theory, his perfect match.

“dearest? what are you doing on the floor in a dress?”

suddenly, my thoughts froze as i noticed james’ black dress shoes planted in front of me.

i could feel my cheeks burning at the awkward sensation of getting caught in such a...humiliating position.

“darling, how come you are not ready yet? the guests are about to arrive, and you are still not dressed properly!” james mumbled as he reached a hand out to me.

i felt my heart drop as his words roamed about my mind, replaying over and over again in a cruel, twisted form.

how come you are not ready yet?

i thought i looked better than usual, but my temporary self-love had been crushed into pieces and now everything was scattered all over the floor. my feelings. my heart.

my gaze remained locked on his shoes as the unshed tears started to fill my (y/e/c) eyes.

“dearest?” james called again and gently touched my arms, frowning when i flinched away from his touch. “what is this nonsense!?”

he sunk his fingers in my skin and forcefully pulled me up so i was properly standing in front of him with my back pressed against the wall.

“now now, head right back to our suite and change into some lavishing, elegant dress.” he smiled and pointed his chin towards the countess. “perhaps, you might wish to use elizabeth as a reference.”

i felt my breath hitching, as if i was drowning myself in a damned mix of feelings. bitterness, hatred, sadness, jealousy…my body reacted as soon as my husband had finished his sentence.

my muscles tensed under his touch and the tears drifted down my cheeks like an overflowing sink. james’ eyes got wide as he tried to understand the situation, for he seemed lost. and that's probably what had hurt the most.

he just didn't know he'd said something hurtful…

james leaned forward and hugged me tightly, resting his chin on top of my head. my lips contorted in anger, and almost instantly, i brought my fists to his chest, frantically shoving him away from me, my hands colliding with his aimed wall of muscles.

he backed off, startled, his head slightly cracked to the side.

“my de-” as he tried to approach me again, i lifted one hand to stop him, which worked.

“fuck you.” my hands trembled in emotion as i signed.

james furrowed his eyebrows and straightened his broad shoulders. before he could say anything to protest, i started to sign again.

“take your queen with you, then.” i pointed my index finger at the countess, who held her chest as she witnessed our fight. “i am not good enough for you, anyway.”

i pushed him out of the way and scrambled out of the lobby with my face hid behind my hand. i quickly got into the elevator, instantly pressing the button to my floor.

before the golden doors were closed, i could hear the conversation between james and elizabeth…

“you fucked up, james. you really did. she was actually already ready. she just wanted to hear a compliment from you. you should hear yourself...what you said to lovely (y/n) was mean.”

“oh my goodness...what have I done?”

---

i stumbled out of the elevator into the dimly-lit hallways of the sixth floor, the tears staining my eyes turning my vision blurry, as my body shook with the cry emerging from my soul.

i brought my small arms to wrap around my pathetic frame out of instinct, as i suddenly felt the cold hitting me.

suddenly, i felt a large hand grasping my bicep and pulling me into a big wall of muscles. i gasped out of shock, my eyes unconsciously shooting up to meet bright blue orbs.

john lowe.

i could tell he was drunk by the way his eyelids were hanging slightly, and a little smirk was plastered across his lips. unconsciously, i tried to pull my arm away, but his grip was too tight.

“why are you crying, [Y/N]? has someone hurt you?” john reached his free hand to hold my other arm.

i hung my head and shut my eyes. he shook me slightly to get my attention, making my heart race.

“it's nothing.” I sheepishly signed, hoping it'd convince him.

john shook his head and pulled me into his arms, tightly wrapping his arms around my waist. i tried to squirm away, but he simply put more strength into the embrace.

“shhh, don't waste your energy, [Y/N]. i gotcha, and i won't be letting you go…” john’s voice had gained an incredibly dark tone all of the sudden, which caused the hairs on the back of my neck to raise. “you are upset because james keeps chasing after his former slut.” i gulped, trying my best to hold back the tears, that i am positive he knew i was holding. “hmm?” he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “you're hot, [Y/N]. you being mute...it kinda turns me on, you know?” a single tear had slipped down my cheek. “it means I can do whatever I want with you…”

right after he finished his sentence, he turned on his heels and shoved me, causing me to trip and hit my back against the hallway red wall, ripping a gasp out of me. john was quick to pin me there by grabbing my throat.

“you squeak, huh?” he whispered in my ear, seeming unfazed by my countless attempts at kicking him or shoving him off. “it’s not beautiful when they squeak, [Y/N]...”

when i tried to kick him again, he looped his arms underneath my thighs and lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. the tears were now dropping freely from my [y/e/c] as he forcefully grinded his clothed bulge against me, placing disgusting sloppy kisses on my neck.

his hands were everywhere...

and i knew, that no matter how many showers i took after that, they'd never be enough to wash away all of the remnants of john lowe’s putrid.

“fuck…” he grunted as he dug his filthy nails in my breasts.

he was implacable. he was like a wild animal, yielding to the profane and animalistic carnal desire, which was only being increased by the absinthe running through his veins, intoxicating his system.

though john was not the most ferocious predator…

i gasped in surprise when he was suddenly yanked away from me. i wrapped my arms around myself as i stared at my savior.

it was james…

“ja-” john started, but he was cut off by my husband’s fist colliding with his jaw. john instantly brought his hand to hold the spot.

“what was this nonsense!?” james practically howled, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched, his face red...john was in a lot of trouble. before he could answer, james grabbed the collar of his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“you. shall. never. put. your. disgusting. hands. on. my. wife. ever. again.” with each bitter word, james gave john a punch on the face. by the time he was done, the detective was lying unconscious on the floor.

james punched the wall in front of him, still completely outraged, causing me to flinch. i forced myself to walk towards him, because suddenly all of the rage i held towards him had melted. hesitantly, i placed my hand on his broad shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze to catch his attention.

as he let his gaze wander down my baffled frame, his eyes softened.

“darling, forgive m-”

i pressed my index finger against his lips before he could finish his sentence. i wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his chest. james didn't hesitate to hug me back. i cling to him, digging my nails into the black fabric of his suit.

“dearest, i am taking you back to our suite,” he whispered as he stroked my hair.

to his surprise, i shook my head and pulled away. heading towards john’s limp body, my lips trembled as i took in his defeated form. i shot james a quick glance over my shoulder. my eyes had acquired a sinister darker shade.

i turned on my heels so i was facing my husband.

“i need rope.” i coldly signed. “and a sledgehammer, please.”

as his brain processed what was roaming my mind, a devious smirk broke through his face. clearing his throat, james bounced on his heels with his head slightly cracked to the side.

“splendid, darling! splendid!”

#american horror story imagine #james patrick march #evan peters #american horror story hotel #james march x reader #ahs imagine #american horror story #ahs hotel #james march imagine #james march #american horror story fanfic #ahs one shot #ahs fx #james march one shot #evan peters imagine #james fluff #james angst

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waredsin · 5 years

Note

Feet in lap

‘ you never hang up on me. ’

fingers are laced repeatedly through her hair so she can lean into his palm , even though she’s trying to summon PETULANCE through the sleep-ridden haze he can tell she’s still trying to wade through. it almost makes him smile through the consuming worry that’d gripped him when he’d returned home in the middle of the night to find their bed , still made and empty.

hand lowers for fingers to glide over her cheeks , for knuckles to ghost over cheekbones even though she looks properly sleepy and UPSET. it buys him time to marvel privately at how such a simple thing could so easily alleviate the tension between them the day before , make it seem so . . . small and distant. it makes him wonder if it would have escalated if they’d been face to face. they are better together after all , no matter how much he tries to claim claire is extraordinary enough on her own.

a placating sigh escapes as he lifts himself to sit next to her , arm sliding around her shoulders in the same moment pulling her in — she’ll resist him for a bare beat , but over twenty years of marriage bear witness that it’s exactly what she wants. ❝ my battery went flat . . . i didn’t think i’d need to charge it. ❞ palms rub over her shoulder with even pressure while presumptions are debunked and misunderstandings are explained away. it keeps her calm , at least it’s what he’s come to believe , both of her and rosie.

gazing at her under thick blonde lashes in the soft glow of the bedside lamp he’d turned on behind them , softness curves his lips into a smile she won’t see. my claire. it’s all she’s ever been. ❝ i’m sorry. ❞ words spoken with gentle earnestness , a childlike purity he keeps locked away somewhere , used only with her. kisses are peppered into her hair while she continues to clarify and JUSTIFY her decision to curl up on their sofa , still fully dressed ( and guilt him in the process . . . just a little , message RECEIVED ). fingers undo half her buttons while she speaks , left for her to finish while he lifts her legs onto his lap. ❝ how about , you come to bed , with me , we sleep for seven hours . . . we both go in to work at 3pm , they can move things around. we'll talk it through . . . solve everything , or at least settle everything. and then neither of us has to be upset. sound good ? ❞

she knows he knows what her answer will be and STILL makes him wait for it , mulling over the proposition like it’s business. even now he notices . . . how beautiful she looks , slightly smudged mascara and the lining of her sleeve printed on one side of her face. ‘ mostly . . . are you too pissed to kiss me , or is that still allowed ? ’ she elicits a chuckle from him — unfiltered and unmoderated as he pulls her shoes off , dropping each onto the carpet with identical dull thuds. hands glide down smooth bare legs to squeeze at her feet. while he leans in to press his lips to her neck. ❝ if you want me to , i can kiss you all night — all morning , and all through lunch. ❞ she’s the ONLY woman privy to every unattractive truth there is about him , and he of hers. why wouldn’t he want to ?

#halechief #❝ ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵉˡ [ ask. ]#reg verse.

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