#ch tag: brag

[lightandfellowship]

[lightandfellowship]

Absolutely. Especially if Luxu interacts with Brain in KHML (and if Brain is truly Eraqus' grandfather), which might give us more context for Bragi's friendship with Eraqus.

I think in addition to wanting to observe Eraqus, he wants to observe Xehanort as well. Since Eraqus is best friends with Xehanort, being close to Eraqus means being close to Xehanort too, but in a way that's more casual and less suspicious. Xehanort may be good friends with everyone in his class, but I feel like he's the type of person who'd be very picky about who he chooses to be very close to. Meaning if Bragi wants to keep a close eye on Xehanort in a way that looks natural, it's more advantageous for him to do so by "proxy" via his friendship with Eraqus (see: the first screenshot in your post). And we know for sure that Bragi is interested in Xehanort due to Bragi's official bio stating:

"He often asks Xehanort for his opinion on various matters, whether out of respect or to gauge his intent." <- though of course the reasons given here are probably just to hide his true motivations as Luxu.

Rewatching the KHDR cutscenes and it really is fascinating how obvious the Bragi/Luxu thing is on a second playthrough. Like we all know the Brain/Bragi/Braig name similarities and stuff but it is very interesting how close Bragi seems to Eraqus.

It makes a lot of sense if you’re thinking of Luxu, of course he’d want to stay close Eraqus, he’s the living legacy of the keyblade masters of old, it’s a sure bet he’d be important, and isn’t it his role to keep an eye on anything that looks like it matters?

idk just something I’ve been thinking about

[dylsluvrs]

ryomen sukuna x reader | college au [18+]

touchdown ch.1 ryomen sukuna wants to send you a message!

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 chapter. 1/?

ᡣ𐭩 word count. 700

ᡣ𐭩 a/n. hello readers! welcome to the first chapter of touchdown!! i hope you’re all having a great week so far! fake dating has forever been one of my favourite tropes ugh the angst opportunities make me feral. this will be a sort of slow chapter as we introduce everything, but i hope you enjoy it!!

nav. masterlist

|| 3:24AM Ryomen Sukuna wants to send you a message

You flinch as your phone buzzes beside you, interrupting your disassociated reading of ‘the fundamentals of journalism’. You opted to ignore the buzz, focusing back in on the page you’d been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes. Your eyes would finally reach the bottom of the page, only to flit back up to the top because you simply couldn’t grasp what you’d been doing wrong. Your research had come to a halt, the football team flat out refusing to be interviewed by you. You knew how you were, how invasive your questions could be, but these were boys who bragged about their conquests to anyone who would listen, embarrassment should not be in their vocabulary.

Another buzz sounded. Then another. And another. You sighed, dog-earring the page and picking your phone up. A request for an instagram dm, and four texts from satoru.

|| Toru🤍: y/n, baby. please kindly look at your instagram dms.

|| Toru🤍: i know you’re not sleeping, check them right now.

|| Toru🤍: sukuna’s trying to dm you can you just answer him pls??

|| Toru🤍: he’s punching me PLEASE read the dm before he damages the money maker too much

You groaned. Ryomen Sukuna. Quite possibly the biggest slut on campus. You’d heard all the stories from Satoru about how Sukuna was making it his mission to fuck every sorority girl from your university. Eugh. You were so thankful that you chose to opt out of the sorority life. But, you loved Satoru, and he loved his face being intact, so over to instagram it was.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Need a favour, princess.

You’d known Satoru since birth, practically being forced into an arranged friendship by your parents and you kinda happened to like his company. You met the rest of the football team when he inevitably joined a frat. Consisting of only the football team. You were friendly with most of them, probably Suguru most of all. The only one who never really warmed to you was Sukuna. You knew him well enough to know he accepted the extra meal preps you left for the rest of the boys whenever you cooked for Satoru, and that his room directly faced Satoru’s. But that was it.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: I’ll make it worth your while.

You groaned again, eyes rolling into the back of your head. This was the same man who grunted when you greeted him with a smile whenever you were at the frat house. The guy who told Satoru that he can’t always use his plus one invite to the parties on you, mostly because you never turn up.

|| You: you’re coming to me for a favour? you must be really outta options, dude.

It was a strange feeling. Being needed. You knew Satoru needed you. You were the only one who kept him sane when he’s balancing football and physics. But this was a different kind of need. This was practically a stranger needing your help. Huh.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Fuck you. I need a girlfriend. You wanna do it?

Confused didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling right now. A girlfriend? Sukuna? Nope. Never gonna happen. And you of all people? Definitely not. You had a feeling Satoru didn’t know, because if he did, Sukuna’s phone would be broken and maybe his nose too.

|| You: the fuck? no, go ask one of your sorority fuck buddies if you’re that desperate. i’m sure their frothing at the mouth for the opportunity.

You went to put your phone down, choosing to ignore the pink-haired quarterback, but he was already typing. Like he was waiting for an answer.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Real cute, princess. Obviously I don’t want a fuckin real one. Need a fake girlfriend so I can focus on football without thinking about pussy.

Confused again. The Ryomen Sukuna, self-proclaimed football god, needed help to be able to actually play? The situation was laughable actually. You furrowed your brows, the thought crossing your mind for just a second.

|| You: Pass.

You let out a sigh of relief when ten minutes passed and you were still left on read, choosing to turn your phone over, pressing your face into the pillow, and getting your final three hours of sleep you so desperately craved.

taglist: @kyo-kyo1 @kenmacantakemeaway @coldluminarykoala @sukubusss @clp-84 @ieathairs @toratsue @mocha-the-muse @ieathairs @toratsue @mocha-the-muse @livinggxd3adgirl

[ponderingmoonlight]

Megumi's little sister falling head over heels for Yuji (and maybe Sukuna?)

Pairing: Megumi's sister x Yuji; Megumi's sister x Sukuna; Megumi's siter x Mugumi sibling dynamic (Megumi being a cool big bro)

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: After being set on a mission with your crush Yuji, your big brother and Nobara, things don't go as planned as all and force Yuji to sacrifice himself before you have the chance to tell him how you feel. Until Sukuna appears...

Warnings: drama over drama, hurt over hurt, but also a lot of fluff

Notes: I hate to brag about my own work, but this is honestly one of my favorite fics out of my own feather so PLEASE interact in some kind of way with it - will be forever grateful <3

Tags: @sunshine7queen @selen1um-hexafluoride @sanicsmut (tagging you bc I bet you'll like that)

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, just one look at the boy next to your brother is enough to make your heart skip a beat. Yuji Itadori is a walking green flag, the best boyfriend material you stumbled upon in your life. Just seeing his bright smile is enough for you to feel like flying, his inviting brown eyes sweeping you off your feet on a regular basis.

“Oh look, there’s (y/n)”, Yuji speaks out in excitement.

Despite the fact that you are Megumi’s younger sister, you are the complete opposite to him. Kind, open-minded and oh so sweet. When Yuji joined jujutsu high, you were the first who greeted him with open arms, showed him around, trained with him, gave him every little advice you’ve had. It truly is unavoidable to fall head over heels for you in that white uniform with that smile as bright as the sun.

“Hey Yuji, hey grumpy-cat”, you greet both boys, earning a huff from your big brother.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)? Aren’t you supposed to be on a mission right now?”, Megumi questions.

“Oh, Toge and Panda took over for me as the curse seems to be a grade 1. Also, Gojo-sensei needs me here for the training sessions”, you clarify.

Right, the training sessions. It doesn’t sit right with Megumi that you are partly responsible for them. You are a skilled jujutsu sorcerer, especially your tajutsu abilities are truly outstanding and it’s no surprise that you are the best combat fighter along with Maki. That’s why you grew especially close with Yuji…

Megumi hates the way his friend looks at you with hearts glistening in his eyes and heart hammering so loud that even he is able to hear it. It is no secret to anyone anymore that Yuji Itadori is hopelessly in love with you. How could he not? You are breathtaking beautiful and the kindest person walking on this earth with an angelic voice that could end wars. Only fools wouldn’t fall for you.

But the thing is that you seem to like him too. You, his little precious sister, the one thing he loves more than anything else in this world. The thought of you and Yuji being together alone makes his guts turn.

“Aren’t you too weak for that? You’re still a first year”, Megumi comments dryly.

“Huh? (y/n) is just as strong as you and me, maybe even better. I’m sure she will be great!”, Yuji instinctively replies.

You can’t help but admire him, that beautiful boy with the purest soul. Not even the fact that he inherits parts of the most dangerous curse on this whole planet can keep you from stumbling, crashing and falling for him.

“Yuji, I was wondering if you…If you’d like to meet up with me after today’s training”, you begin, nervously fumbling with your hair.

“No. Way. In. Hell”, Megumi hisses through gritted teeth.

Before Yuji is able to comprehend what is happening or even to answer your precious question, Megumi drags him along with him, away from your striking sight, back at Jujutsu High.

“See you, (y/n)!”, he shouts over his shoulder while waving you goodbye.

“Yeah…”, you mutter, hand dropping in disappointment.

When will you ever be able to get to know him better without your big brother interrupting every sweet moment you have?

“That girl…”

Sukuna leans forward, hand stroking his chin thoughtfully.

You are a pain in the ass, always on this brat’s mind. But you are very easy on his eyes, truly a beauty with decent abilities.

He laughs to himself, eyeing you up and down as your figure disappears.

“This will be fun…”

-the next day-

 It sounded so simple and enticing at first. Don’t fight, exclusively rescue survivors, if you encounter a special grade: run. Pairing up with Megumi, Nobara and Yuji. A difficult but manageable task.

Until you got caught in a sphere.

Until Nobara disappeared.

Until Megumi’s divine dog got killed and a special grade curse appeared in front of your very own eyes.

“We can’t leave without her!”, you yell, eyes roaming around in a desperate attempt to find Nobara.

“Not now, (y/n). We’ll find her later, right now we have to-“

This presence. The sheer presence of this creature takes your breath away without even seeing it. There is no doubt that this is…

A special grade.

None of you move, just staring blankly at this thing with its wide open eyes and alien-like appearance next to you. No. You can’t just stand there, move, try to attack it, try to fight.

Suddenly Yuji lunges himself at it, trying to slice into that frightful creature. In the blink of an eye, his hand falls to the ground along with the cursed weapon Maki lent him.

“I-ita…Itadori?”, Megumi stutters next to you.

Time stands still. You can only stand there and watch in horror as he turns around, blood squirting out of his arm.

“Yuji!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

No. No. No.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t reality, right? Maybe it’s Sukuna who tries to play tricks on you. You aren’t even able to hear what Megumi and Yuji talk about, ears ringing so violently that you feel like fainting, sweat dripping from every pore.

Is this how you’ll die? In your first year, together with the boy you never admitted your feelings to and your brother? This can’t be how it ends, you still had so much planned…

“Hey Sukuna, if I die here you die too, right? So you have to help me out.”

“Not true. Even if the part of me that’s inside you dies, there are 18 other fragments of my soul still out there. Still irritatingly enough, I don’t have control of this body. If you want to switch, go ahead and switch. But once you do, I’ll kill that brat before the cursed spirit can! Then I’ll go for that woman. She’s a lively one, I’ll have fun with her. Last but not least, there’s your little friend over there, or should I say girlfriend? What a pleasure it will be to see the light in her fade while she’s staring at the eyes of the boy she loves!”

The thought of him killing his friends with his own hands is frightening enough but killing you…Yuji stares at you in disbelief, the way your glossy eyes are widen in nothing but fear.

“I’m not going to let you do that”, he hisses automatically.

“I bet. But if you’re too focused on me, your friends are gonna die.”

“(y/n), watch out!”

Megumi grabs your collar just in time and pulls you to the side before you get hit full force by the curse. You hold onto his uniform for dear life, feeling like you’ll throw up any minute. This is all too much, way more than you can handle. You don’t want to die yet, especially not here, especially without telling Yuji how you feel. Megumi…You can’t both die here.

“Fushiguro!”

You’re still so young, so full of life…

“Fushiguro!”

Out of instinct, your eyes dart towards Yuji. Control your breathing, gain regulator over your ringing ears.

“Take (y/n) and Kugisaki and get out of here. I’ll keep this one busy until you three are out. As soon as you’re out, give me some kind of signal. Once you do…I’ll switch with Sukuna.”

“You know you can’t do that! Not with one arm against a special grade!”, Megumi yells at him while holding onto you tightly.

“Yuji…”, you breathe out, tears now running down your cheeks like waterfalls.

Please, this can’t be happening right now. What Yuji suggests…

Is his certain death.

“Look closer, it’s having fun. It’s obviously toying with us. I can at least buy us some time.”

“No!”, you cry out while tearing you away from your brother’s tight grip to grasp Yuji’s sleeve.

“I can’t just leave you here like that!”

“Please, (y/n), you need to-“

“I love you!”, you blurt out.

“I love you!, Please don’t leave me like that, I love you…”

“I love you too, (y/n), but you have to go now. Fushiguro.”

Your brother’s eyes dart towards you. Despite he has to fight back tears himself, despite the fact that he hates seeing you like that he knows exactly that Yuji is right.

With a swift motion, he frees your hand from Yuji’s sleeve and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you away from this special curse.

Away from Yuji.

“Come on, (y/n). We’re getting through this”, he interject between your toe-curling screams.

All you can feel is numbing grief. You can’t even hear your own cries anymore, vision getting blurry over Megumi’s shoulder. None of this should have happened. This was supposed to be a rescue mission, all of you should have been running the second that curse appeared. But now Yuji is in there alone with a missing hand, risking his own life to save yours.

“Divine dogs, find Kugusaki”, Megumi’s voice shouts from far away, the tiles underneath you moving in rapid motion.

Until slowly but surely, everything around you seems to get dark.

“(y/n), you need to stay with me. (y/n)!”

-later-

Rain wets your face and takes your sight as you open your eyes. Where are you? What happened? You lift yourself up from your sitting position, eyes darting towards Nobara and Ijichi-san who is about to stitch her head up.

Where is Megumi? And what about Yuji? A lump forms in your throat when memories of your last encounter begin to flood your mind. If he’s dead…

You clench your hands into fist, watery eyes darting in front of you. No, don’t think like that. There has to be a reason for Megumi being missing. He must be on his way to look after Yuji. And you’ll definitely to the same.

Your rapid steps make the water to your feet spray in every direction, sharp and heavy breaths hanging in the air. You just have to concentrate on Yuji’s signature cursed energy. After spending so much time together, it’s no problem to detect him anymore. And then you’ll hug him like there’s no tomorrow. Yes, he probably switched with Sukuna and returned as soon as the cursed spirit was gone.

Something makes you stop in your tracks. Foreshadowing, fear, hope? You can’t tell. But the atmosphere around you changed completely. Is he…?

“Yuji?”, you murmur into the heavy rain of the evening.

“Sorry, he’s not coming back.”

You can’t catch your breath, eyes wide open as the body of Yuji pins you against a nearby tree. These tattoos, that smirk.

This is Sukuna.

You fight against his claws as hard as you can only for him to chuckle over your efforts. No, his hand doesn’t move an inch away from your arm, holding you in place effortlessly.

“No need to be frightened, (y/n). Let’s talk a little, shall we?”

“Bring him back”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Who knows why, but he can’t come back. So I’ll keep you entertained”, he replies.

Sukuna wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly. Oh, you really are lovely with your wet hair and skin, let alone the way you glare up at him while heavy breathing. Somehow he gets it, how this brat fell head over heels for you.

“I don’t wanna be entertained!”, you yell into his face.

With full force you rip yourself out of his firm grip and attack him. Fists fly through the air, sending him into a nearby tree.

“I’m surprised, when you beat that brat over and over I thought it was because he is weak when in fact, you are pretty strong!”, Sukuna shouts while running towards you with neck breaking speed.

You were never confronted with Sukuna. Since you know Yuji, he was always able to suppress his presence. But right now… Your blood freezes in your veins, the way his usual to tender brown eyes are lit by raging red makes shivers run down your spine.  

“Come on (y/n), give me all you’ve got!”

You fight as hard as you can, hitting him with full force over and over. Until it seems like he has enough.

He pushes you into the dirt violently, rain pouring down as all you can do is stare up into his amused face while he sits on top of you.

“Not bad, girl. Not bad”, he hums amused.

His hand sure feels good wrapped around your neck. Yes, slowly but surely Sukuna definitely understands what that brat sees in you. A ray of sunshine while being feisty, looking feminine while being so strong. Impressive, truly impressive. And how the rain pours down at your stunning face.

“Bring. Him. Back.”, you spit at him, very own eyes glistening in thick hatred.

“Come on, don’t look at me like that. After all I am technically him. Just a much better version.”

“You will never be him”, you bite back.

His weight on top of you along with his hand wrapped around your neck makes it hard to catch your breath, let alone think straight. Yuji’s uniform is now completely soaking wet, revealing his tight muscles underneath. Of course you always knew how well trained he is. After all, you touched him many times before. But this, him sitting on top of you, his hand wrapped around your neck…

You shake your head. But this isn’t Yuji Itadori. This is Sukuna, the king of curses.

“What’s on your mind? I bet you secretly like that.”

You glare up at him and his stupid grin. What are you supposed to do? Whatever is going on, it doesn’t seem as if Yuji will come back any time soon. Is Megumi around? You can detect him either.

So you have to deal with this on your own.

Fine.

One last deep breath. One last spark of focus to defeat him.

As fast as you can you lift and wrap your legs around his neck, pushing your hips through and holding his hands around your neck in place. With full force you pinch your knees, drive your hips forward and free yourself out of his grip. You can tell that he didn’t expect this, that he won’t fight back. Your fists darts towards his face, only inches away until-

“(y/n).”

Just inches before you hit his nose with full force, you stop in your tracks. No, this didn’t sound like Sukuna. Could it really be…?

“Are you okay?”

“Yuji”, you breathe out.

You tear up, a silent scream of relief escapes your lips as you lunge yourself towards him, landing on top of his chest as you hug him tightly.

“I thought I lost you…”

“Sorry that you were worried. Did Sukuna hurt you? Are you okay?”

His tender brown eyes wander along your slightly bruised body while a wave of respite washes over you. You thought he is dead. Or even worse, that Sukuna will occupy him forever. But he’s back, the boy you love more than anything else.

“I’m fine. How are you?”

Your nails dig into his biceps while you look up at him through wet lashes, rain still pouring down at both of you without mercy.

“I’m okay. Especially since you’re fine.”

Your heart flutters, emotions threaten to overflow.

Screw it. Screw all of it.

“I love you”, you breathe out.

And then your lips meet his. Crushing down at him without mercy, through the heavy rain falls. You let yourself sink into his arms, fireworks are set off inside your stomach. God, Yuji could have died today, the second he faced that cursed spirit alone you were almost certain that you’ll never see him again. But now…Now you’re lying in his arms, kissing him with so much passion that you feel like drowning and suffocating.

“I love you too, (y/n)”, he mumbles against your lips, smiling sweetly.

“God, how much I love you.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

The horror and the wild [!emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] ch.5

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5l you're here! AO3

Word count: 3188 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

Warnings for this chapter: Predator/Prey kink, mild choking

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her. Little princess is dumb and naive and oh, so deliciously weak, it makes Konig sick just how much he adores her pouty face, her aggressive expressions, and that squeak in her voice every time he does something to embarrass her – which he does, a lot, in fact. Quite aware of how his war dog lingo would affect an innocent young lady like his precious dearest darling illustrious wife, he uses it to hi advantage – when you have your lady cornered, heavy panting and cumming from your tongue and your fingers in her tight royal cunt, she wouldn’t be able to open her mouth for something meaningless, right? Thou shall not think as thou would be a sin against god. 

Emperor is a sinner, but he still believes that you shall always follow the religious instructions – as if not ever trying to oppose him and speak like you have the right to think in his presence. Perhaps, his devotion to making you weak and pliable in his arms is what led to this situation. 

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her, so little princess runs. 

You might brag about your best education and most elegant courses for women you attended in the palace – but he knows just how empty your adorable little head is, because you had no idea how much the thrill of the hunt turns him on. 

You’re nowhere to be found, escaped through the window of the room you were stationed in – it was his mistake, assigning you a place from which you could jump so easily. Next time, he will cuff you to his bedpost, like a loyal palace dog lying on his legs. Next time, he will make sure to love you so eagerly that your legs won’t work for at least a few days. 

He doesn’t even need his hunting dogs to catch you. Horangi offers his help, Tiger so eager to come out and play with a little princess, perhaps maul her a bit, showing the royal cunt what she deserves for disrespecting her emperor and his subjects – but oh no, this won’t do. König needs to discipline you himself, track your scent like the hound he is, and get you back to your wedding bed with your body in his teeth. 

Woe on you, dumb little princess, as your emperor considers escape attempts the richest form of courting. 

Following you through the forest near the castle, your footsteps are clear in the mud and dirt – a piece of your dress serves as a grinding light. Your scent, delicious sweetness, and fresh flower oils maid had infused you with made it laughably easier to find you. He can almost see the glimpses of your body running through the woods – god, he knew that he wanted you and was right about taking you away. 

How can he resist a wedding gift from his bride who wants to play tag? He follows you like a madman, a dog, he sees through trees, trying to see where you could run. The deep golden brown of your dress almost made you look like a forest spirit standing in the depths of the woods – if it weren’t for König’s trained eye, he would rather mistake you for a tree. Or a particularly precious deer. 

He licks his lips, a wolf approaching the bunny he was hunting for so long – you run away, still try to. These dumb skirts aren’t made for running away from your fiancee in a forest – you can barely walk in those, poor thing. You take a step back, panicking, squawking from fear, as he approaches you as slowly as possible. 

Perhaps, if he gives you one more chance to run, it would make the chase even more precious. 

He is used to hunting with his royal hounds, with a group of his closest friends by his side – war hawks helping hunt for prey, the animal snifters making the whole process laughably easy. He doesn’t have anyone for the company now. 

Only you, him, and wilderness – and his adoring love for everything you do. 

— Stop resisting, little princess.

You whimper, but your little annoyed expression makes him only harder. Hell, how he adores your frown, how much he wants to kiss your face right now – god knows he is holding himself back these days. Little princess doesn’t deserve to get her innocence taken on her back, legs open on the dirt of the royal forest – but sometimes you act like a good lashing, and some passionate mating is the only thing that would keep you in line. 

He yells in your direction, hoping that even that dumb head of yours has some sense in it – the chase is fun, and he would continue it more until you’re completely unraveled under him, exhausted and defeated – but, oh, your silly desire to be free has led you to the edge of the lake. Dancing on the shaky, soft sands and warm mud of the pond, your clothes leave you with very small chances of getting out of here in one piece. 

He doesn’t want to be the bringer of doom, but just one sleep, a nervous movement that you can’t control – and the little princess of his dreams will come flying in the dark waters. Even if your royal majesty knows how to swim, the heavy fabrics of your garments would be declared as your executioners. 

You look so fragile like this – your skirt is lifted, showing your pretty ankles, as you’re trying to jump from stone to stone, as far away from him as possible. You’re scared, only reminding him more of the bunnies he used to hunt as a kid – and he is almost offended that you’d prefer that risk of drowning over getting in the hands of your husband again, but alas, princesses are usually not the smartest creatures on the planet. 

— I’d rather die, Your Majesty. 

You bite your lips and look at him, so stubborn and cute – the feelings in him rise, your arrogant expression making the thrill of the hint ever sweeter. God, he cannot control himself around you like this – you should stop trying to make yourself sweeter for him, he already wants to keep you chained in his bed and never let you go. 

You’re so…

Ach. 

His path of thought is stopped by the splash of water. 

Dumb thing, you really decided to make the most of your words – like a cornered animal, you jumped in the lake, getting to the bottom almost immediately. Your dress is heavy and expensive, all the weight of the fabrics pinning you down in elaborate execution. Your emperor stands on the small beach, looking at the water circles going from where you fell…and then he jumps straight after you. 

The last thing you remembered before the world went dark was the scream of a man who, for the first time in his life, had experienced genuine fear. 

*** You wake up warm – and naked. 

No wet clothes, no heavy dress lingering on your skin like a soft coffin. 

You’re as naked as the day you were born, shivering despite the warmness of the room and the crackling of fire somewhere near you. You remember this room – a royal bedroom, quickly made as your quarters when you moved to this god-forsaken castle. Empire has some horribly extensive architecture, and this room, big, stony, and expelled of any decor, has only made you feel regret ever waking up. 

You wished to wake up in the cold embrace of your Princess – but you open your eyes and see this room over and over again. Why couldn’t death come sooner? 

— It was incredibly stupid even for you, little princess. 

König sits on the edge of the bed. A future husband shouldn’t sit like this, resembling a servant who is scared for the health of his misstress. His eyes are filled with cold fury and other emotions that you can’t quite grasp – you don’t want to look at his face too much as even the mere glimpse is making you uncomfortable. God knows you are not in the mood for trying to talk to your captor. 

God knows he doesn’t care about your wishes. 

— If you can only provide me freedom in case of my death…

— You will not be free after your death. 

You sigh, shocked – your brain isn’t nearly ready for this information when you just almost died. You shift in your bed, trying to pretend that you accidentally fell asleep – but the emperor pushes his hand on your cheek, warm fingers lingering on the cold skin. You sigh quietly, sealing his warmth. 

You fight the desire to nuzzle in his palm like an obedient little pet. 

— It’s not for you to decide, Your Majesty. I should be allowed to die on my own accord. 

— I'm entitled to your life, my bride. Don’t make me remind you of this, ja? 

— I would rather… 

— I can deliver death to you, little one. In a verdammt heartbeat. 

His hand goes from a warm presence on your cheek to an angry squeeze of your neck – you cough when he continues to shut your breath, fluttering of your neck in his grasp only makes your defeat even sweeter. König has you right where he wants it – under him, holding firmly in his grasp like some exotic bird he picked up from his travels. 

Lack of air makes you dizzy – as ironic as it sounds, you feel airheaded, hands clinging to his massive palm in a poor attempt to make him let you go. You whimper, you cry, you feel death all too soon – you want to die, of course, maybe, willingly meeting in hell with the royalty you had sworn to serve, but you don’t want to be killed. Tears run down your cheeks when you finally see the other side of him – out of control, angry, worse even than the conqueror you saw when you first met. 

You feel replaceable and small – he squeezes your throat like you aren’t his bride like you don’t mean anything to him, and, yes, it makes you feel hurt. Vulnerable as ever, your manicured nails have zero power over him – he only laughs at your helpless expression. For a second, it makes you think this is it – the last thing you would ever see is the cold anger in the eyes of your emperor. 

When your vision finally got blurry enough so you could not see anything anymore, König softly lowered his face closer to you, lifting the bottom part of his weird, strange hood. Smothering you with his lips, delivering the air you were craving for – if only to make himself feel even more in control. You’re lightheaded and a bit dumb, still, your mind is too delirious to actually understand anything that is happening around you. 

His lips are warm and dry, you steal air from his lungs with each second – you feel the energy feeling you up again, eyes are finally set enough to see at least some part of his face. Chiseled chin, covered in scars, tanned skin – you’re surprised that he is not as pale as you thought he must be, with his love for the masks. 

His veins are dark and rotten – you don’t understand how he can survive with his blood looking like this, but the dark tendrils of his body almost make him more of a curiosity than an actual human being. It’s only his lips that are still holding you in realms of the living. You don’t want to think of the implications and gossip you heard from some servants that were allowed to go out – allowed to witness the growth of the empire that was soon to eat you all. 

König finally lets go of your mouth when you start falling asleep again. You don’t allow him to simply cover his lips with his hood again though – your hands are heading to lend on his neck, fingers tracing the outlines of his veins. 

A medical curiosity, this emperor – you squeeze the rot of his neck, and he moans like you just did something that he liked too much. 

It’s only fitting that he has the body of a monster – for all he is done, you wouldn't be surprised if his head actually resembles the one of an octopus from silly books you were reading or a mess of dark tendrils, wiggling and swarming. Your delirious, oxygen-deprived mind still wants to touch him more, to satisfy your curiosity in all the more fitting ways. Maybe take your research a bit further down to see if he truly is a man down there. 

But oh well, you saw his body before – although you never as much as paid attention to that detail. Did he change in a few days that passed? Does his veins start to spew out darkness because he is…

He crushed your hand in his, almost making you feel a crack in your dainty lady fingers. God forbid you feel like your hands are being torn apart. 

— Never try to defy me like this again. 

He spews the words with anger than would be fitting for the enemy – and he is, for you, but you were sure that he didn’t consider you one of them. The contrast with his soft actions earlier, you can feel tears collecting in your eyes as he slowly lets go of your hand. 

Not knowing what to do, you roll to the side, burning desire to never see his face – or lack thereof – ever again. Like an angry cat that doesn’t know how to stop biting, you feel like you’re going to cry again and again. 

You whimper, trying to escape the haunting gaze of his eyes – and his face softens, if only for a bit. He presses his hand against your damp forehead, checking the temperature. You don’t want to forgive him just yet – for anything at this matter, but he is soft at this moment, and somehow, it is almost enough. Somehow, you almost feel like you can breathe again. 

— I was so scared, little princess. I don’t like being scared. 

You laugh dryly, your face is still deep in the pillow. You are trying to ignore the beast, but the beast decided that you’re his best option for a nice free snack. Beast decided to take off some of his clothes – you don’t see it, but you hear the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and you don’t want to even think how much it cost. 

You try to cover your naked body with the silk sheets of your bed, but soft fabric only entices your desires in a way that can only be called sinful. You remember the sensation of his tongue between your legs, your desire to simply run out of your skin because of how good it felt – each stroke made you strive further and further away from your duties. Like a good little maid you are, a perfect lady in waiting, waiting for her demise, you have to ignore all the mortal pleasures. 

If you want the royal family to truly forgive you in their graves, you would have to join them. Perhaps, you gave up on drowning too fast. 

— It wasn’t my intention. 

He shifts, the bed is too small for someone like him. You feel his legs, clothed, thank god, touching your naked thighs – and you immediately stir to the further side. You keep your arms and legs in check, getting into a small ball of limbs as you’re trying to comfort yourself without his touch. You don’t want to admit it, but König is warm, warmer than you thought he had the right to be, and you’re freezing. The phantom feeling of cold water on your skin is making you shiver. 

— What were your intentions then? 

If the emperor knows about manners and how a fiancee should behave around his bride that he didn’t even consummate the marriage, he is ignoring that knowledge. Large hands pinning you to his chest, warm and firm – to your utter dread, he took off the armor plates and even the simple shirt under it, making you helplessly squish your cheek against his muscles. He smells like a man, and you never knew you’d feel that smell in your life. 

You don’t hate it. 

— You killed by parents, Your Majesty. 

He only laughs, his hand goes to stroke your back. This is a contrast with his coldness before – he is soft and warm with you, and you hate that you don’t hate it. Gigantic palm goes to settle between your shoulder blades and you simply sigh, trying to get used to his touches. You don’t want to, but a good servant should adapt to everything, so you do just that. Adapting, deforming, melding yourself in something you never knew you even could be. 

Your head hurts, and you whimper when his gentle massage relaxes your sore muscles. You hate his gentleness, you hate his firmness. 

You want him to let you go, but you don’t even know where you would go. 

— Your parents, little princess? Really? 

There is a vile mockery in his voice, and you immediately remember who this man is. Not some devoted lover and slightly obsessive romanticist – he is dangerous, horrible, he is the conqueror of your country. You may not have warm feelings about the royal family, but he doesn’t know this – his laugh and mockery of your “family” must be real. It has to be, or else you’re going to die after your deceiving has been opened. 

He pushes you even closer to him, and you whimper like a dumb little dog without any means of stopping him from touching you. There is some freedom from being exposed like this, but you still don’t like it. Still feel like he is going to murder you, given the reason. 

— If anything, my men did it. That dog you called a father did not deserve my sword. 

Anger fills your whole body – not because you were particularly close with the king, but because König is parading his mockery of your supposed family. He hugs you with hands that are covered in blood, no matter if he is just the one to give orders. 

You try to get out of his grasp, but apathy fills you. What’s the point if the royal family is dead? What’s the point if you aren’t even the real princess. 

— You will not call my father…

He makes you shut your mouth when he kisses your head. Sweet and soft, you do not understand his intentions. If anything, it feels like yet another mockery. 

— I will call him like I want, meine Liebe. And you will still be mine. 

— I won’t just take it, Your Majesty. 

He laughs again. You feel sick. 

— With our wedding tomorrow, little flower, you will have to take it. Not the last thing you’ll take on that day, little princess. 

You feel like you are going to be sick. 

König kisses you again, forcing you to sleep in his hands. 

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ CH. 2 TEASER

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you. 『 series masterlist 』

✧ TEASER WARNINGS: none!

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: ask and you shall receive! i still don't have a set drop date for this chapter, but i wanted to post this short teaser for y'all anyway since you've been waiting so patiently. i am so thankful for all of the love i'm getting for this series already!!! chapter one is almost at 500 notes which is SO insane. i get so stupidly giddy every time i receive a reply, reblog, or an ask about this series! feedback and interaction keep me writing and i am so looking forward to what all of you think of this teaser. reminder that you can track the tag 'glossdebut updates' to stay updated on drop dates/word counts/etc.!

P.S. just like with all of my teasers, wording is subject to change when the chapter actually comes out <3

✧ TEASER WORDCOUNT: 481 words

✧ STATUS: ongoing

Yoongi hasn’t touched a cigarette since he was twenty one years old.

He picked up the nasty habit at sixteen, when one of his friends doled out African Ice Jacks amongst the group, bragging that his hyung had bought the pack for him. As soon as the lighter was flicked on and the bittersweet taste of bubblegum and tobacco filled Yoongi’s lungs, he was hooked.

It was stupidly easy to get his hands on cigarettes before he was of legal age, even when his friend’s hyung couldn’t supply them for whatever reason. All of the adults around him smoked, including his parents. 

It felt as though cigarettes were an extension of his hand, felt wrong when he didn’t have the option to light one up. During school hours, Yoongi’s fingers would twitch on his desk as he waited for his last class to end.

He was a fucking anxious, wound-up kid. Smoking was the only thing that helped, sometimes. If he had a shit day, at least he could have a cigarette.

When the band got signed, though, things changed. Despite the fact that the majority of the population in Korea smoked, celebrities were vilified for it in the media. For whatever fucking reason. Yoongi didn’t care much what the media had to say about him, but he reasoned that it would be pretty stupid to let his dream die over Ice Jacks. So he quit.

It was hard at first, but it’s been five years now. After so much time, it’s rare that cigarettes even cross his mind, even when others smoke around him.

Sitting across the table from you now, though, Yoongi’s fingers twitch just like they had when he was in grade school staring at a clock.

He and the band started frequenting Yoojung Sikdang long before there was any real hope for fame. It was their chosen spot after every practice. The ajumma who owns it knows their names, remembers their orders by heart. Over the years, the only part of the restaurant that’s changed is their autographed photos on the wall. They’ve celebrated every single milestone here, big or small, just the five of them. Alone.

Wrapping up their first world tour should be no different. It’s their biggest milestone yet, and all Yoongi wanted was to eat ssambap with his best friends. Remind himself that none of the fame matters as long as they still have this.

But here you are. Of course. Encroaching on everything Yoongi’s built, everything he holds dear to his heart.

The only time it’s ever been more than the five of them here was the night they signed their contract, accompanied by two label executives. Even if you’re allegedly riding Jeongguk’s dick, no way are you that fucking important.

Yoongi would laugh if he wasn’t so pissed off. You are such a fucking pest. He just can’t shake you off.

✧ TAGLIST: @jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle

@futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @namjoonsbuspass @wobblewobble822

@yoongiphoria @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @this-most-assuredly-counts @sugafun @binniesbabe

@1800lxcifrrr @whoa-jo @amarawayne @kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @angellekookie

@jalexad @tarahardcore @valhallawhispers @chimmisbae @notsevenwithyou

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 4 ⬅ch. 3

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. forced proximity. blood, war, and death. wc 5.3k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this one was fun to write!! it's a bit longer than previous chapters too. thank you for all the messages and ideas for this fic, i hope i do it justice! and as usual, feedback is appreciated &lt;3

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

...al mazrah…

you sat trembling on board the razor-1, your bag tucked between your legs, wedged nervously between two insanely muscled marines that made you feel minuscule in comparison. ghost stood as the aircraft began to land and soap gave you a reassuring look from across the terminal. 

you undid your seatbelt and you felt your fingertips vibrate as they clung to your tactical vest, all of your adrenaline was starting to make you feel sick. 

“this is capture or kill,” soap had said to you. “but we need him alive.”

“that’s where i come in,” you mumbled under your breath. 

soap nudged you on the shoulder. “don’t worry so much. you’ll hang back while we infiltrate the base hassan is camped up in. then you can swoop in to save the day when i have him bleeding out on the floor.” you rolled your eyes at soap’s confidence. “easy.”

“right,” you mocked, trying to hide the terror that was slowly seeping into your bones. 

ghost began rambling off orders, the aircraft shaking as it made contact with the ground, and you tried to instill it in your brain that you had nothing to be so fearful about; this was just another mission for the guys. they did things like this all the time for the sake of their country. but the fact that you had never been on the frontline before kept niggling your mind. you began to wonder if you were really made for this kind of shit.

it wasn’t that long ago you had wanted nothing more than to join the military to help wounded soldiers when you realized you had nothing left for you back home. after your friend died in combat, an injury that could have been mended if they had enough medics in their arsenal, you decided to put on a brave face and save soldiers just like him. regardless of what you thought about war, you wanted to be a medic, meaning neutral ground. you were there to mend the fallen, it didn’t matter to you what side they were on.

and as much as you didn’t like to brag or be filled with a sense of pride–it always made you uncomfortable–it was just a technicality to say you were at the top of your class. the best of the best , as price had said. 

“keep up,” ghost grunted to you as he turned to exit the craft, walking down the ramp. you shook yourself out of your head-pounding thoughts and quickly followed the group of men out of the ship, leaving team alpha behind. 

you stumbled onto the ground, the strays of your hair that stuck out from under your beanie beneath your helmet fluttered in the wind as the ship took off to take team alpha downrange. 

“razor-1, all bravo deployed. moving to secondary hlz,” the pilot said over the comms for everyone to hear. 

your eyes locked onto soap’s, his gun at the ready. he nodded his head, urging you to follow him. you both made your descent with the rest of bravo, willing your hands not to shake as you held your gun up, your night vision goggles set over your eyes.

“all stations- razor-1 is bracketed, we’re getting lit!” the pilot’s anxious voice echoed in your ears. “incoming- flares! flares!”

you watched as the horizon lit up in front of you, hustling to stay beside soap. 

“shit that was close!” another voice spoke. 

and then, an urgent “second missile!”

you tensed, scurrying after the group of men who crept down the small incline. things were picking up fast. you had barely been out of the ship–it was certainly less than two minutes–and explosions and gunfire were already filling the air.

“oh fuck…!”

“razor-1 going down! we’re going down!”

your teeth clenched as you switched into a run, all your gear slowing you down and making you huff your breaths. 

“stay close!” you heard soap yell in your ear. 

you nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see you. the smell of ash began to fill your senses.

“hold up,” ghost commanded. the team stopped, a small explosion erupting at the bottom of the hill where building 1 was located.

“alpha, what’s your status?”

coughing and wheezing breaths harrowingly echoed on the comms. 

“alpha, how copy…?” ghost said with a bit more urgency. 

“bravo- alpha is immoblie. multiple critical!” a brief pause sounded between the man’s reply. “oh, shit! we’re taking effective fire!”

you clenched your gun. what if you, or soap, or ghost had been assigned alpha? you sucked in a breath of air and tried to calm your racing heart. 

“alpha, we’re moving to building 1. hold tight.” ghost’s voice was so smooth as he spoke like this type of shit was a regular occurrence to him. the same candace as someone who was greeting a friend in a coffee shop. his nonchalance sent shivers up your spine. 

“ghost, we need to secure that crash site now,” soap spoke.

“first, we clear for hassan, that takes the heat off alpha. then we secure the crash site. clear?”

“roger that.”

“let’s move.”

ghost, hustling towards the rocky house, swept into your line of sight. soap turned his head and when he saw you were close behind him, he took off after ghost. 

“force up to the house.” ghost whispered. 

you stumbled over the uneven terrain, the weight of all your gear and the obstruction the goggles caused was making it difficult to see. 

the sound of shuffling pants, boots crunching the pebbled earth, and the slight hum of machinery was the only sound in your ears when no one was speaking. you felt your chest tighten with nerves. 

suddenly, with your body realizing the height of the situation, you began to steady. you were good under pressure. exceptionally good. this is why you were here , you told yourself. you could do this .

you heard an enemy soldier shouting something in the distance that you couldn’t quite make out–he must have been speaking arabic.

the group rounded up outside the house and ghost scaled the edge of the building. a man handed him a sledgehammer. “breacher up,” he said faintly before he slammed it into the wooden door. you felt a chill catch along the hairs of your arms as he broke open the door in one swift motion, you could see his muscles taut even through his thick layers of clothes. 

“sweep through,” ghost called. soap was at the doorway and began shooting.

you tried to pay attention to your surroundings as you waited for soap and ghost to clear the way. the blazing fire in the distance sent eerie shadows along the buildings and barren trees. 

“first deck clear! negative on hassan,” a bravo said. 

another replied, “copy that, second deck’s clear!”

“rog,” ghost grunted. 

you slipped into the building behind the men, watching as they scanned their surroundings and made themselves safe behind barriers. 

“contact! building 2!” a voice shouted. 

you stumbled back against a storage cabinet as gunfire ricocheted off the walls. 

“they know we’re here!” ghost shouted. in a startling motion, he turned to you, spying you immediately as you shifted your weight. “stay down!”

you nodded and huddled behind a workbench. the men began shooting rounds at the men in building 2. the sharp metallic clank of a bullet hitting a metal desk off to your right made you jump, the shell clinking on the floor like a fallen coin. you felt your eyes widen slightly. 

“all bravo, move on building 2!” ghost stated, his voice a welcoming sound through your headset. you tried to focus on his voice instead of the shouts of men and blasting echoes of weapons.

ghost and someone from alpha spoke to each other as the men started their way towards building 2. soap appeared beside you and helped you up. “you alright, lass?”

you nodded, “m’good.” you brushed yourself off and followed soap as he led you out of the building and towards another that was roughly 100 feet before your squad. you could see ghost already approaching the second building, his feet shuffling as he stayed out of the line of sight of the open doorway. 

shouts in arabic made you stagger as you walked. gunshots in the distance followed by the occasional explosion filled the otherwise gorgeous night. you slid your goggles up and glanced at the starry sky. if it wasn’t for the bloodshed unfolding before you, you could easily see yourself laying out on one of these hills, the cool night air ruffling your hair as you watched the stars–they were so bright without all the light pollution.

soap slid up to one of the open doors and motioned for you to huddle beside another fellow sergeant. soap was bundled in his uniform, his sleeves rolled up, and his night vision goggles on–same as you. you wondered if you looked as intimidating as he did. 

“prep for breach,” ghost said. 

“7-1 moving interior,” soap responded. 

he quickly shot down three enemy soldiers before disappearing inside the building. you followed in pursuit, your heart hurting as you saw slouched bodies pool with blood, even if you knew they were the enemy. you hurried after soap and caught a glimpse of ghost using his knife to slice into a man with barely any effort. blood began to coat his gloves. 

you crept behind soap as he slowly moved up the stairs to the second floor. gunshots repeatedly fired in front of the two of you. 

“i’m hit!” a bravo shouted. 

you dashed up the stairs but soap pulled you back before you reached the top, gripping your utility vest to bring you into him. “hey! wait till i clear it!” 

“okay, then hurry up!” you huffed as soap went ahead of you and leaned around the corner, taking out the men in the other room. 

you used that time to scurry off behind him and out onto the terrace where the injured soldier had crawled in order to get out of firing range. 

you crouched beside him and slung your bag off your shoulder. “here,” you said as you pressed a cloth to his bullet wound. “hold pressure!”

a loud shotgun in the next room made you jump. you turned to look, your hands deep in your bag. you spotted soap and let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn’t him at the end of the barrel. 

you heard soap’s footsteps return out onto the deck. “one’s in the hallway,” the soldier said to soap. 

you worked deftly to pack and wrap the wound as soap slid off down the hall and you heard a strangled cry as he knifed someone. 

“ghost, enemy rockets down,” soap said in your ear. 

“thanks,” the man before you mumbled as his hand replaced yours where he began to hold the bandage. you heard soap speaking in the next room.

“the house is clear. time to go,” ghost muttered in your ear. 

“it just grazed you,” you said to the sergeant. “you should be alright as long as we limit the bleeding.”

soap appeared beside you moments later, helping the man up as he limped. “you good to walk?” 

the man nodded. 

“all bravo circle up outside,” ghost commanded. 

“let’s go,” soap said down to you. 

you ran after soap down the steps and out into the field. you spotted the crash site not too far ahead and you felt your ears ring seeing the formidable tower of flames in the backdrop.

it didn’t take long to approach the ship and you followed soap and ghost as they entered the terminal.

“we got five k.i.a., one wounded. it’s just my gun and i’m low on ammo.” 

you slid past soap and rushed to the man on the ground. the sergeant was knocked out cold and you quickly tried to make a mental note of his vitals. you tried to remember his name, but with everything that was occupying your brain right now, it eluded you.

you knew the others were talking, but you didn’t hear them as you honed in on the man bleeding out before you. 

“get your gun on that tree line,” you finally deciphered through your hazy thoughts as ghost spoke.

you looked over your shoulder as loud explosions went off and shook the craft. 

“fuck, man! fuck,” the alpha said. 

“you called it, lt.!” soap said as he aimed his gun out the ship’s window. 

as you bandaged the man, ghost and soap began firing rapidly. 

“they’re getting close. secure the ramp!”

your heart felt like it was in your throat. another bomb went off and the craft shook violently. you yelped, falling sideways. 

“sergeant!” ghost called. you pushed yourself up and tried to orient yourself. ghost shouted your name when you wouldn’t reply. you looked up at him. “you alright?”

you stared at him before your eyes flickered to soap who was shooting his gun out the window. 

“are you alright?” ghost said more forcefully, his frame bending in half, his face now in your direct line of sight to grab your attention. it hadn’t registered that ghost was talking to you. you were only frazzled from the rocking of the craft, the explosions ringing in your ear, but you were otherwise safe behind ghost and soap, so you weren’t sure why he was so set on making sure you were okay. 

however, ghost seemed to not be able to accept that you were okay until you verbally told him. 

“yes,” you said faintly. ghost turned back to aiming his gun out the window without a second thought.

after another minute of gunfire, there was a lull. 

“we clear?” soap asked. 

“for now…” ghost replied. 

you finished wrapping the arm of the bleeding soldier, and assessed that he had hit his head and had knocked himself out. 

“alpha, you’re with us.” ghost commanded as he took off out of the ship. you and the men followed. you spoke over the comms to let the others know you left a soldier back in the crash site. he was wounded, but would be okay. 

“those fuckers used us as bait, didn’t they?” alpha 0-2 said. 

“they’re well supplied and fighting relentlessly. thanks to hassan,” ghost said unhappily. 

soap looked back at you. “keep up. we’re gonna need ya.”

you hustled behind him, your pistol at the ready.

the lot of you ran a wide berth, sprinting towards building 3, hoping hassan was inside. the sharp whistle of a bullet spiraled past you. 

“a.q. sniper on the roof! get down!” ghost shouted to everyone. before you even had a chance to move, ghost was pushing you down into the grass. you gasped as you were squashed beneath him, laid out on the dirt. he held his gun up and aimed at the roof as he lay beside you. 

“soap, take out the shooter. rest o’ ya stay low until we’re all clear!” ghost said, not acknowledging the fact that he had just pressed you flat to the ground, his body half covering yours. 

soap shot a bullet. “sniper down!”

ghost rolled off of you and stood up, giving you a quick hand as he heaved you upright. he didn’t even look at you before he took off running towards building 3. your entire body was tingling.

it looked like a gallant eruption of fireworks above the building as enemy bullets fired toward you. air support lighting up the sky. soap was a few feet behind you and picked off the snipers one by one. you followed close behind the others as you approached the building. 

soap was quick to follow, coming up from behind and going up the stairs and into the decrepit house. “7-1, moving interior,” he said. 

glass exploding rippled in the building and you peeked inside to see soap shooting someone down. 

“check the bodies, we need positive i.d. on hassan,” ghost said as he slid off to go in the right-side entrance. 

you hunched over slightly as you followed behind him, looking down at ghost’s trail of corpses as you did, checking for hassan. 

“anyone have eyes on hassan?” ghost asked after a minute. 

“negative on hassan,” soap replied. 

you tripped over rubble and fell to your knees with a huff. “shit,” you muttered to yourself. your foot was lodged in the concrete chunks. you tried to pull it free but that just shifted the rubble further, a large piece falling over your ankle. it was too heavy for you to move yourself. the house shook.

“sergeant,” ghost said, making you look up. he had backtracked when he realized you were no longer behind him. 

“i can’t get my foot loose,” you said. 

arabic echoed down the hall making your head snap up in alert. ghost began moving faster, squatting down as he approached you and heaving the rubble aside to get your foot out in one easy motion. 

“ow, fuck,” you said, biting your lip to try and muffle your sounds. 

ghost’s eyes flickered to yours before he moved the last piece that set your foot free. 

the rest of bravo had already moved to the antithetical end of the house when the voices began to close the distance. 

“shit,” ghost mumbled, pulling you up. he did so with such force that you collided into him, your hands landing against his chest with a gasp.

the men sounded close and you counted at least four different voices. their candace rose as they edged closer, like they were right around the corner when you were moved by ghost and suddenly faced with darkness. 

“wha–” 

ghost’s hand covered your mouth to silence you, pushing you against a wall. your eyes adjusted and you saw a sliver of light pour in through the slats of the door. ghost had pulled you into a closet. a very tiny closet at that. 

your chest was pressed flesh against ghost’s, the room far too small to hold yourself and ghost–who was already too big to fit in a closet on his own, let alone one with you. 

you could feel his chest move up and down as he steadied his breathing. your hands were on his utility vest. the voices of the men were now right outside the door. your fingers gripped tight on his vest as you tried to be as quiet as possible. he slowly let his hand fall to his side when he could trust you to be silent.

why wasn’t ghost attacking them? you’ve seen him take down trained men in less than two seconds. so why did he decide to hide now? was four too many for him? you doubted it, but you also tried not to think of the logistics because all that swam through your mind was how close ghost was to you. there was almost no space between your bodies, his front flesh against yours as he pushed you against the wall. 

a rectangle of light slid across ghost’s face, illuminating his eyes which were visible now that his goggles were turned up on his helmet, making the brown in them gleam. like he could feel you staring, he looked down at you and you felt your face heat. you shifted your stance, trying to widen the distance between your bodies but your back was already flat against the wall. there was nowhere to go. 

“what’re you doin’?” he said quietly.

you glared at him in response as you continued to slightly shift your body, wanting to at least have it so your side was pressed against him and not your front. you tried to shuffle your feet, wanting to turn, to push him back a bit, but you ended up just rubbing against him instead.

“quit squirming!” he finally hissed, his hands coming out to rest on either side of your head. 

well now you were just stuck in an awkward stance so you tried to move your hips a bit, wanting to pull them away from ghost and back to how you were originally standing, but with the limited space, you were essentially just moving your hips against his own. 

ghost growled in his throat and you stopped moving and let your breathing steady. you felt something hard press against your stomach and your eyes widened as you stared at ghost’s chest. 

oh my god, you thought.

you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes flickered to his own, his eyes already pouring into you. your breath got caught in your throat. “i told ya to quit fuckin’ wiggling ‘round,” he said as if that made things more appropriate. 

a flash of heat ebbed through your core. you told yourself that this was purely a physical thing– men could get turned on by a goddamn gust of wind if it hit them the right way. this had nothing to do with the fact that it was you pressed against him. this kind of bodily response would have happened no matter who it was against him.  

you went to clench your thighs together in nerves and heat but you were stopped by ghost’s thigh. you realized the ceiling in there was too short for him and he had to hunch over, his knees bending and leaning on the wall between your own legs. oh my god , you thought again.

your face went red hot. fuck, of course you were stuck with ghost in the world’s smallest closest.

ghost’s eyes traced your face when he felt your legs press against his own, a sudden flare igniting in them. 

oh no, did he think you were… you quickly worried. you wondered if ghost could tell you had been squeezing your legs together to subdue the quick sweeping sensation of arousal you got–this was not the time or place!

ghost’s head shifted ever so slightly closer to your own and his eyes were now disguised by the shadows of the closet. you could feel his warm breath against your face as he panted through his mask. you were trapped. he had you pinned, his large arms encasing your head, his leg between your own, his face inching closer to yours. 

you felt your breath get lost in your throat, your mind suddenly going blank. 

“ghost! ghost, where are you?” soap’s voice broke through both of your ears. 

ghost halted any and all movement, his eyes flickering between your own. you realized you no longer heard iranian voices and wondered how long the men had been out of range. 

it was as if ghost realized that at the same time you did because he pushed away from you and slid out the door, into the dusty and war-torn living room. now that he was away from you and not clogging your brain, you thought you might have imagined the way he had been edging toward you.

“deck one secure. any i.d. on hassan?” ghost spoke, his voice strained. 

you slid out of the closet behind him. “negative, lt.” soap replied. 

ghost turned to you as you stumbled into him, your ankle giving out at the most opportune time. 

“ shit ,” you grunted. ghost turned his head to look at you, his eyes glowing in the flames that brewed inside the building. “sorry,” you muttered. 

“keep close,” he said to you. you felt your chest ignite. you had to control your eyes from shifting to his waist to see what you felt moments earlier. you were surprised your willpower was strong enough. 

ghost led you around the bend and up a set of stairs, soap appearing beside you both. “pushing second deck.”

you slid on your night vision goggles and watched as ghost scurried to the side of a door when he made it to the top of the steps. a man opened it and walked through, ghost grabbing him and slamming him against the wall, the man’s gun pressed to his chest. in two swift motions, ghost shot his abdomen then his head, letting the body sink down. 

jesus . you always knew ghost was a ruthless killer, but that was more so knowledge in theory. it was another thing entirely to watch it unfold before your own eyes. 

you followed the men as they stealthed into the next room. you heard soap’s gun go off, and then ghost’s voice. “clear. hassan’s everywhere…” 

you could hear hassan’s voice as it played in the distance, seemingly from every room. a video on loop of him speaking nonsense sat in the shadows like a horror movie. you felt a chill run down your legs realizing that no matter which way you turned, hassan’s voice was not far off. 

“everywhere but here,” you mumbled. ghost’s eyes scanned you up and down before trailing on into the next room. you swore every hair on your body stood on its ends. 

“the perpetrators of general ghorbrani’s execution must be sentenced to the death penalty and the world must witness the death of those responsible!” hassan’s iranian accent sang through a crackling radio. 

you and soap poked around, not finding anything of use, apart from soap spotting hassan’s uniform, meaning he had recently been here. 

“so he was here,” you muttered.

“lost him when we secured the crash site,” ghost spoke, looking between you and soap.

“are you sayin’ we shouldn’t have helped?” soap asked.

ghost averted his eyes on his next words as if he didn’t like what he was about to say. “choices have consequences…” his eyes gazed over to yours, burning holes through his skull mask. you could see the disappointment and guilt that was attached to his statement. you were surprised at how much emotion he was able to exude through just his eyes. you wondered if he knew that. 

“all bravo- we got movement out here,” someone said over the comms. 

ghost reached up to click his receiver, his eyes still on yours, “on the way.”

you followed behind the two men as the continued to speak. as you made it out behind the house, ghost spoke, “what do we got?”

“a warehouse. roll up doors open. heard somethin’ inside.”

ghost spoke with a sense of assuredness, “copy, let’s clear it.”

you trailed the men as they all took off towards the large warehouse, ghost and soap hoping that hassan was nestled inside. 

you rested your back against the building as the men started inside, gunshots and smoke bombs going off as they fought the enemy planted in the warehouse. 

“all alone?” a husky voice with a thick iranian accent spoke. you looked to your right, your hands grabbing your gun, startled, when a man disarmed you in a quick, fluid motion. 

you yelped as his hand wrapped around your neck, pressing you forcefully to the exterior wall. you saw static stars begin to spread across your vision. 

shit, shit, shit.

your legs flailed as you tried to kick and squirm your way out of his grip. his hand held you tighter. you swore your feet began to lift off the ground. recalling all the training you had done the last two weeks, you propped your knee up, bending it as much as you could against your chest, then shot it out with all the strength you could manage. the man stumbled, releasing you, as he collapsed onto the ground. 

“eahira” bitch . he scrambled to get up and you panicked, trying to get your knife out of it’s sheath. 

before the man could grab you again, his body just a hair from your own, a bullet pierced his skull. flecks of his blood squirted across your exposed face like red freckles. you stood in complete shock, the man sinking to the ground with a thump.

it was ghost that replaced the dead man, his hands resting on your shoulder, his deep voice saying your name repeatedly. 

you finally looked up at him. “are you okay?” you swear you could see a bit of pride in his eyes as he took you in.

you nodded weakly, wincing as your neck muscles throbbed in pain from the small movement. 

ghost yanked your mask up to look at your neck, already beginning to bruise. 

his eyes darkened as they met yours again. “if that fucker wasn’t already dead, i’d tie him up and rip off his limbs one by one for that.”

you couldn’t help the astonished laugh from escaping your lips at the exorbitant threat. then a pang of heat surfaced when you realized ghost had made no such threats as his other men were picked off. he also didn’t seem to rush to their aid immediately. yet here he was… with you. 

“hassan,” you said meekly. 

ghost’s hands left your shoulders as he straightened. you felt a bit of sadness at the loss of contact. 

“not here. found an arsenal of ballistic missiles. american missiles.”

your eyes widened at the information. “and shepperd…”

“already alerted.”

you nodded. “so that’s it then?” you asked, referring to the war trail you and your men left behind with nothing to show for it. 

ghost gave a nod back. “we’re one step closer. we’ll find him.” 

you don’t know why you took his word with such ease, but you knew he meant what he said. ghost wouldn’t rest until he had hassan in his clutches. 

day broke by the time a humvee arrived to carry you all back to base. the injured men were loaded on one, the rest of bravo and alpha on another. there were significantly fewer men than when you started this hours ago. you felt a heavy feeling swarm your chest. 

you were busy making sure your bag was closed and that you had all your things in it when you looked up and saw ghost step into the back of the vehicle. 

you scurried to catch up, the last one as you climbed into the back. as you went to stand, the humvee took off, making you stumble and lose balance. 

fuck , was the last thought you had as you felt yourself falling backward out of the vehicle. your arms flailed, trying to grab onto something, when a hand gripped your vest, yanking you forward and onto the humvee. 

you looked up in relief to find ghost glaring at you. his hand was still tight around your tactical vest, the other men closest to the back were out of their seats in an effort to grab you. but of course, ghost got there first. 

his eyes bore into your own, an odd wave of spite in them. 

you knew it was your fault for dilly-dallying, but was he really going to be upset at you for almost falling out of the vehicle? it should cause more annoyance than anger, really. 

you gulped and ghost released you, moving back to his seat. you stared after him until you felt soap touch your wrist. “sit,” he mumbled. 

you focused on him instead of your lieutenant and sat in the empty seat beside soap. 

you shifted your bag so it was on your lap, the men around you silent, all of them exhibiting a mix of disappointment in their mission and exhaustion. 

you felt his eyes on you–something that seemed to happen a lot lately. you tried to resist, but you looked in his direction and met his gaze. you thought he’d look away, but he held you in a challenge across the truck. he still had all his gear on when most others had stripped some of theirs off.

he sat a bit forward, resting his arms on his knees as he glared at you. 

you felt your heartbeat race and you felt like you might be sick with all the adrenaline running through you today–it couldn’t be healthy.

you finally coward away and looked down at your bag. a looming feeling coursed through your body. for whatever reason, the moment he pulled you into the truck felt like it was a breaking point for him. he was right back to hating you. despising everything you did. you felt yourself shrink in on yourself.

you never felt his eyes leave you the entire way back. 

chapter 5 ➡

[marisol-000]

The Sandbox Scientists ch.2

Chapter 2! I can't believe how long this got, I had to push some stuff to the next chapter sooooo look out for that one!

(a03)

The boys didn't take the news that they weren't going home well.

There were lots of tears and crying and yelling until eventually weak promises and the offer of cookies calmed them down.

She couldn't blame them of course, the poor things suddenly waking up in a place they don't recognize with people they don't remember.

But what could they do? Neither she nor Robert knew where Jekyll had lived, just “somewhere” in Glasgow; and forget Edward 'street urchin’ Hyde!

Even if they could send them home it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Whatever had happened to her friends was likely temporary, or at least more likely to be solved by one of the scientists here than any townie in scotland.

All they could do now was try to keep the two comfortable while they looked for a solution.

And the first step to that was to get the boys in some fitting clothes!

“Right, but we don't have any. This isn't exactly a daycare.” Robert mused.

“Well you seem to forget! I'm quite the gifted seamstress!” Rachel bragged, wiping some cookie dough off her hands.

She flipped the patterned rag over her shoulder. “I can have some outfits going for these two in no time.”

Robert leaned around her, peeking into the kitchens where the two were playing tag. Henry kept tripping over his pants which slowed him down, but Edward couldn't seem to catch him anyways; not stepping wide enough and his arms not quite reaching, so there seemed to be no clear winner.

He let the door swing shut.

“Hmm, A whole wardrobe? For two boys? There's no telling how long they'll be this way. We'll need shirts, slacks, vests, coats, shoes and who knows what else. I'd much prefer taking him to a tailor.”

“Him?” Rachel raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, “I suppose you mean Henry.”

“Yes Henry.” he said unflinchingly, “You can't expect me to take Edward Hyde to the bloody tailor, he's still a wanted criminal you know.”

“He's a child!”

“He's a nuisance! He'll probably knock a candle over and set the shop on fire, it's in his nature.” he huffed.

Rachel paused and clenched her hands. She fixed him with a nasty glare.

“Don’t talk like you know him! That fire was *not* his fault! Master Hyde is a sweet boy who’s not done *anything* wrong.”

Lanyon hesitated, surprised by her sudden attitude change. Regardless he cleared his throat.

“Well, you seem to have forgotten about all the drinking and bar fights he’s known for. He's a bad influence. I don’t want him anywhere near Henry.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, “He is *not* a bad influence.”

She walked into the kitchen, swinging the door open and holding her arm out to gesture. “Edward Hyde is a charming young man who would never do anything wrong, much less convince Henry of all people to do so too!”

Both boys were on a chair, eating raw cookie dough directly from the bowl.

They blinked at the adults with their big round eyes.

Robert crossed his arms over his puffed chest, turning to her with an infuriating smirk.

Rachel sighed and got them cleaned up.

First Edward, then she balanced Henry on her hip while leaning over the sink. He was old enough to use the bar of soap by himself but she couldn’t resist wiping his rosy cheeks, humming while she dried his hands with her apron.

His feet barely touched the floor before Robert grabbed his arm and whisked him towards the door.

“Oi! And where do you think you’re going?” Rachel yelped.

“To the tailor, as I said.” Clearly believing he won that argument. Which he hadn't! She just… hadn't had the best timing.

“While he looks like that?” she gestured to Henry’s oversized and by now wrinkled clothes. “Robert, people are gonna think you kidnapped him.”

“Well how do you-” Lanyon made a shooing motion towards Edward, who was trying to follow them, “How do you expect the tailor to make him clothes without measuring him?”

Rachel rolled her eyes, sometimes she couldn't tell when he was being a helpless rich boy who couldn’t do anything himself or just plain stubborn. 

“I’ll take the measurements, they don’t need him there in person. I’ll measure both boys and you can take that to them. 

And say it’s for nephews come to town! No one’s gonna believe Robert Bleeding Lanyon of all people is taking in poor orphans.” That got a snort out of him.

Privately she didn't think it was a good idea to separate the two so soon, they only just stopped crying. And they'd been sticking close together since she and Robert found them. Seemingly feeling safe and comfortable with each other.

She snickered to herself. She couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Jekyll and Hyde how cute they were together.

Once they warmed up to the place the kids will be back at each other's throats in no time!

“Besides, you probably couldn't handle one child much less two.” she smirked.

Robert huffed, Take that! Who's winning now Robert?, and crossed his arms while sitting back down at the table.

“Fine, whatever, just measure them already.”

Rachel ushered the boys to her room, wrapped a measuring tape around the wiggly worms, and wrote a list of things for Lanyon to buy. With notes on fabric types and colors. Lots of Red and Green of course!

As much as she would have loved to see Edward in Eli's old clothes, they hadn't kept any from that age.

The neighborhood they had lived in was in constant need of hand-me-downs, and they hadn't been expecting to need things to remember him by…

Anyway!!!!! That just meant that it was time for her favorite activity:

Dress up time!

‘Edward Hyde’ was not enjoying dress up time.

They liked Rachel, the woman who found them, well enough. She was making them cookies after all, but she's so grabby!

Especially with him, he couldn’t go longer than a minute without being practically picked up in hugs or stuffed with various snacks.

Not that he didn’t want them, he was SUPER hungry after waking up, but the way she squealed when he said ‘Thank you’ hurt his ears.

Henry…it felt weird to call someone else his name. He tried to think of it like the two Jeffery’s in his class, who both had the same name. Instead of someone else who was him.

Henry didn’t like being prodded either. Whispering as much to him when she left the room with her note.

He agreed, and hoped whatever “Situation” the adults said they had to be here for would be over soon.

“Alright! Here are those cookies I promised you, *cooked* this time.” Rachel pouted, entering the room with a silver tray.

“You two are welcome to any books I have when you're done, I'm gonna be busy for a while.” With that she sat at some sort of machine. And started using it to stitch some fabric together.

He knew how to stitch! Well, kinda, Momma had shown him a few times, but putting dead animals back together was different than clothes.

He snuck glances at the boy who was also Henry, who occasionally glanced back.

He wanted to talk to him so bad, surely if they were the same person then he had done that too?

He wanted to ask so many questions, and try things he couldn’t do alone. It was thrilling to potentially have a friend that was willing to do weird stuff with him.

But for now Rachel was in the room, and adults never liked his ‘science’ much.

The two of them sat in silence and ate their cookies.

After what felt like hours the woman straightened up with a pop in her back.

“Whew! Two pairs of shirts and pants in record time! Ready to try them on?”

He looked up and nodded eagerly, dropping the dreadfully boring romance novel, “Yeah! It’s so cold in here.”

She whipped her head to look at him, pigtails flying.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Edward, I should have noticed! I’ll get you some blankets and more of Jekyll's socks, I’m sure we can layer them til you're warm again!”

He was sure she could layer them to the point that he would never walk again.

“Er, no thanks! The clothes will be fine.” he said, dodging another hug.

Henry snickered softly, out of Rachel's hearing. He snuck around and inspected the clothes she put together for them.

They were nothing fancy, buttonless white shirts and coal black pants. The stitching for both of them looked to be black too, but upon closer inspection it was actually a dark green, it seemed she had a lot of green lying around.

He wondered if she would notice if they took out the thread later, or if this was a ‘gift’ they'd have to rewear, like with his extended family.

“Well, when you two are done, come back to the kitchen and I’ll make you something more filling than cookies!” she said, and muttered, “God knows you two don't eat enough.”

“Yes ma’am.” they said in unison. 

With another squeak and a giddy grin she shut the door behind her.

A few minutes later, the door slowly creaks open. And two heads pop out.

Archer was losing his mind. Maybe he saw wrong? Or was finally going mad like the general public believed.

Surely something had happened to his head because he could have sworn he just saw a child.

Two even.

“Uh…did you see that?” he asked Bird, welding pen loose in his grip.

Bird looked up from adjusting one of his contained moss cultures, “Hmm? See what mate?”

Archer was leaning comedically far in his chair to see out the door, cord stretching to its limit.

“Just. Two little…I don’t know, ghosts maybe? One of Maijabi’s do you think?”

Bird raised an eyebrow, “Something on the loose in the society again? Should we tell the others?”

“Uh, could be my imagination.” he said, but set the pen down where it wouldn't burn anything. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned.

“Well, I’m overdue fer a break anyway, it’s been a while since anything interesting’s happened around here.”

Flowers was on the hunt.

She was on her way to the kitchens for a bite when she saw a short shadow dart through the common room.

Fortunately she had all sorts of equipment in her pockets, a true scientist is always prepared! But for some reason her emf reader wasn’t picking anything up.

Not under a couch… not behind this case…

The clack of shoes alerted her to someone approaching but she was more interested in the sound of wheels or metal boots.

“Hello Flowers, what are you looking for?” Tweedy then, she should remember to ask about some more batteries before he left. Her mosquitoes were too small to include a charging port.

“A small robot,” she said, checking under a table, “ ‘bout waist height. I think one of Pennybrigg’s creations is on the loose.”

“Oh, is that what I saw? I thought Ito shrank someone again.” he laughed loudly.

“Yeesh, that woman can be cruel when she's pissed off. Still can’t believe Dr. Jekyll taught her how to do that.” she shuddered.

Tweedy leaned on an armchair, derailed from whatever he’d been doing, “Actually I heard it was Hyde, everyone forgets he is Jekyll’s lab assistant.”

“Ah, well I’ll believe Hyde did that.”

On the floor above, Lavender rushed in, skidding to a stop before the railing. A large net slung over her shoulder.

“Excuse me! Has anyone seen any kids around here?”

Flowers and Tweedy looked up at her in shock.

“Kids?! I thought that was a robot?” Flowers gaped.

“Well *I* thought it was one of our creatures. I saw something slip out of our lab and was chasing it, but it turns out there's actually human children running around the society!” Lavender wheezed.

“I can’t emphasize enough how dangerous this place is for kids.”

The two on the ground floor looked at each other, slack-jawed, then scrambled to help her search.

“Well, we’ll just hope none of your creatures slipped out after them!”

By now it had spread throughout the society that somehow, for some reason, there were children there.

A good amount of lodgers were gathered in a random hallway, loudly trying to figure out what was going on.

“Is it true? Are there really children here?” someone asked.

“Sure are!” Pennybrigg laughed, “I saw them with my own eyes!”

“Huh, I thought that's what that was but I didn't think anyone would be dumb enough to let kids in here.” 

“Does anyone know how many? We can’t have any left behind that's for sure.”

“Just two. I had to chase them out of my lab.” Griffin huffed, “The damn brats laughed at me.”

That earned a few snickers from the very mature adults in the room.

“How’d they even get in here is my question.”

“Well, it’s not like we keep the doors locked, it's probably just some curious teens here for a lark.”

“No, they looked younger than that. What if they're lost and need help?”

“Has anyone seen Dr. Jekyll? He’ll want to know about this.”

“Screw Jekyll! We don’t need him to hold our hands all the time, we can find two kids by ourselves!”

“But if they get hurt it’ll reflect badly on the society!”

The crowd murmured in worry, with people either confirming they locked their labs or resolving to. Luckett cursed and sprinted off right then, almost losing his hat in his haste.

“Then we’ll just find them before they get hurt! Come on, less talking, more looking!” someone said, clapping their hands loudly.

With that the crowd split off into different hallways.

“I GOT ‘EM!”

Twenty minutes later there came a cry from Ranjit Helsby.

Like a flock of birds the lodgers descended upon him. Cheering and pushing to see his catch.

“You cheeky buggers can’t hide from us!” Helsby crowed.

The exploratory bathynaut was carrying one child in each hand.

Scruffed and struggling like kittens, the two were yelping and crying for help.

They seemed to be about the same age. One was brunette, with a healthy flush, and dark brown eyes. He was yelling to be put down and kicking his legs in the air.

The other was smaller, frailer, a little pale but was squirming and kicking the same. He had a wild shock of blond hair, and quite the set of lungs, his voice quickly growing hoarse from his shouting.

The outfits they were wearing were odd. They weren't anything fancy, though they certainly weren't the rags worn by street urchins. Bizarrely, neither of them were wearing shoes. Just plain clothes with visible stitching.

Contemplative, Flowers reached into her pocket.

“Oh Helsby, put them down already!” Cantilupe cried, “They’re damn near the verge of tears!”

Sure enough the boys looked like they were about to start bawling. With the blond starting to hiccup, and the brunette's lip wobbling dangerously.

Pouting, Helsby did, trusting the wall of lodgers to prevent their escape.

Predictably the boys were off the second their feet touched the floor. Everyone reaching arms out and bumping into each other to catch them.

However they didn't try to escape, simply darting for the nearest person wearing a dress. Who happened to be Chabra.

They crashed into her, nearly knocking her off balance. She startled but didn’t pull away. The small boys took hold in fistfuls and buried their faces in her skirt.

Chabra leaned down and awkwardly, cautiously, put her hands on their backs.

“Aww, guys we scared them! They're just babies!” Archer cooed from the crowd, triggering a flood of coos from everyone else.

The blond one peeked out to give a glare, but it was watered down by his red nose and big eyes.

“W-Who are you people? Leave us alone!”

Lavender curiously offered her skirt to the boy closest to her, the brunette.

He eyed it for a moment, then took the bait, reaching a pudgy hand out to the fabric. He didn’t grab on though, only running a hand over it a few times.

Incapable of going one at a time, the lodgers began bombarding the two with questions.

“Are you lost?”

“Do you need us to find your parents?”

“Who sent you??”

“Wot? Nobody-”

“Yeah what? They're literally children!”

“That's what they want you to think!”

“Do you want to see me set this plant on fire?”

“What are your names?”

“Hen-er- Ed-”

“Henderson you say, I had a cousin named that, but my uncle's name wasn’t Hender!”

“Oh, shut up Bryson!”

“No my names-!”

“Do you know someone by the name of Rachel Pigdley?”

The two boys look up at that.

Amidst the swarm of questions, Flowers had managed to win their attention, the other lodgers quieting down attentively.

The boys hesitate, suspicious. They whisper to each other, not even Chabra able to hear despite still leaning at an awkward angle.

“Do *you* know Rachel?”

Flowers puffed in pride at her hypothesis being confirmed. She relaxed her grin into a softer, hopefully reassuring smile.

“I do, she's the Day Manager. Next to Dr. Jekyll, she's the boss around here. Though she’s quite nice when you get to know her.”

Pushing someone out of the way, she approached the boys and carefully knelt by them.

She reached into her pocket. And turned it inside out.

“You see? Rachel’s a friend of mine. She sewed some pockets into my dress for me.” Flowers showed the boys the stitching on her inner pockets. The thread was a lighter shade of green than theirs, to match her dress, but visibly the same pattern and spacing.

She could have done them herself but these ones had been thanks for fixing an alarm clock Hyde had broken when he came in a window once.

This more than anything seemed to convince the boys. They let go of Chabra completely and leaned over her pocket like curious birds.

“Yeah! Rachel patches up some of my stuff too!” Sinnet jumped in.

He raised the elbow of his shirt, where a large brown patch was surrounded by some soot that had never washed out.

Some of the others pitched in, getting the idea.

“Yeah mine too!”

“And me!”

The two boys seem convinced and relax fully. A few people let out sighs of relief that they wouldn't have crying kids on their hands.

“Do you live here too?” asked the blond, looking around at all the people.

Sinnet looked at him quizzically, “Too?”

“Yeah, like Rachel and Robert.”

“Oh, yeah! Can't say I know any Roberts, though.”

“They mean Dr. Lanyon dear. Dr. Robert Lanyon, our co-founder?” Lavender sighed.

“Huh, I didn't think he liked kids, you suppose they’re new recruits of some kind?”

“Do we look like babysitters? Half the things in this building could kill a child like *that*!” Luckett snapped his fingers.

To everyone’s surprise the two boys gasped in excitement, “Really?!”

They didn't look scared, they looked eager. And… curious?

“Er…yeah actually. Do you… want to see them?”

Lavender smacked the man on the shoulder, “Luckett!”

“Come on! You saw their faces!  Remember when you were that age and curious about the world? I'd bet anything these two are scientists!” he nodded confidently.

That got some excited whispers. Everyone turned to look at the two boys.

Their mismatched eyes were open as wide as possible, jaws dropped. “You-you’re scientists?” asked the brunette.

Nods from the crowd.

They looked at each other, then back. “We’re scientists!!!”

“That settles it! Let’s give them the grand tour!!”

The lodgers broke into cheers and lifted the boys up, prancing up the stairs as fast as they could.

As the others raced towards the nearest lab, Cantilupe and Maijabi followed at a more leisurely pace.

Once they reached the landing, the rapid click of flats managed to reach their ears.

Glancing over, they watched as Rachel ran through the halls and the common room. Calling out and frantically checking behind furniture.

“Oh, there's Miss Pidgley. I was beginning to think something had happened to her to have left those boys alone so long.” said Cantilupe.

Maijabi squinted, adjusting his eyepatch, “Hm, least she could’ve done was give us a heads up if there were new lodgers. It’s not like her.”

She paused to take a breath and called out again, “Edward! Henry! Edwaaaardd!!”

“Ah, that explains it, Hyde’s on the loose again.” Cantilupe giggled.

“Ha! That'll keep her busy fer a while. Suppose we’ll have to ask about the boys later then.”

Cantilupe nodded in agreement and they carried on behind the others.

Rachel checked the candelabras to make sure no candles were knocked over.

[jeewrites]

Hold Fast | Ch. 2 SBD & Cinnamon Rolls

Series Master List

Rating: M for language, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

Summary: Frankie works out at Pope's Gym with his bff Pope

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday! Bit of backstory about reader, Frankie gets a glimpse into reader's powerlifting world, meet some OCs. And as always, thank you to my beta @bloviating-vy, although I messed with it later so all errors are my own, lol.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: no y/n, reader gets a nickname, swearing, yelling, discussion about food, reader is a powerlifting girlie in her late 30's described as short and she has hair long enough to put into a ponytail, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), Tom owns a bar called Redfly's, Pope owns a gym, reader's mother is a menace, an OC is fatphobic, some Frankie POV

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One of the hobbies you picked up after you broke up with your fiancé — ex-fiancé — was baking. Chase always complained that everything you cooked or baked made him fat. You both shared a sweet tooth, but he was adamant about keeping the house sweets-free, fat-free, fun-free. Christ, he had gotten so militant about so many things. So fucking suffocating.

He didn't start out this way when you first met in college. He was sweet and driven, focused on getting into medical school, like you were. Your first real relationship. But somewhere between medical school, residency, and supporting him through his fellowship, he became increasingly neurotic and controlling. He started yelling, first about things, then at you. Why can't you do anything right? Why are you friends with her? Who is he? Why are you texting him? Why do you act like a child? You're going to wear that? That outfit makes you look like a whore. He started bragging about what a big bad surgeon he was going to be and how lucky you were to be with him. The larger his ego grew, the smaller you felt. It took you too long to realize the college boy you fell for no longer existed.

Now, every Friday night after a long day, you'd go home, throw on some tunes, and bake to decompress from the week. There is something calming and meditative about the process — measuring, mixing, and kneading — resulting in a desired outcome that pleases you, delights you. Sometimes you even liked to get experimental with the flavors from your childhood. You could watch whatever show you wanted while you baked: wholesome comedies to cringe-worthy reality tv, without a judgment to be heard. Peace. You finally had peace.

Despite the long days at the group practice, it was nothing compared to the 80-100 hours a week you'd pull working at the hospital. Did you miss teaching the next crop of residents? Sure, but you love the newfound free time you had to do things for yourself, things that interest you. You needed a break and a break from working in the same building as Chase. The hospital just wasn't big enough.

The hospital rumor mill had cranked into high gear when you caught him sneaking out of a call room with one of the OR nurses, scrubs rumpled, hair mussed. It's like you were living in a fucking episode of Grey's Anatomy. And he had the audacity to raise his voice at you in the middle of the hospital in front of what felt like everyone. You stopped wearing your engagement ring (thank fuck) and Chase started blatantly hooking up with any of the staff that were ready and willing. Of which there were a lot. You were done with the hierarchy of the hospital, placing surgeons at the very top, over-inflating their otherwise fragile egos. You were over the whispered judgements questioning Why would you leave a surgeon? What was wrong with you? Between the long hours and hushed whispers everywhere you went, you wanted — no, needed — a change.

You joined a group practice with some former residency friends across town and moved into a small one bedroom apartment until you could decide what your next steps were. It helped that Pope's Gym was halfway between home and work now, so you settled into a more sustainable routine of working, lifting, and exploring hobbies and interests long neglected since college. And Chase. And more recently, giving the whole online dating thing a spin after over a year of pouring back into yourself, rediscovering who you are now in your late 30's.

Sometimes it felt like going through a second adolescence, rebelling against the expectations Chase and your parents caged you with, to fit their very specific idea of who you should be as a wife first and physician second. Always serving a role, being a pretty object, but never a person. At the first opportunity, you sold the stupid black Audi that Chase had insisted you buy because all of the other physicians owned the same fucking one. He also insisted on an automatic because he couldn't drive stick. Now you zipped to work in that sporty blue WRX STI that you wanted in the first place, windows down, singing loudly and off key to the radio, free as can be.

It still hurt when you ended things, but it hurt a lot less than you thought it would. You realized the end really began when Chase left for his fellowship out of state and you noticed how much happier and free you felt when you were on your own. Why didn't you miss him more? Why didn't you miss him at all?

And yet, it didn't stop you from saying yes when he proposed. A big flashy proposal in front of both your families. You remember feeling frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of a car driven by your mother. Your mother's voice in your ear, You won't do better than a surgeon. Not with your looks. Not with those thighs you inherited from me. So you said yes and floated through the rest of the celebratory evening weighed down by the most obscene diamond ring, smiling and nodding like a robot while you drowned on the inside. Saying and doing exactly what you had been taught to do as the eldest daughter. Appease. Please. Live for everyone else. And don't rock the fucking boat.

Frankie couldn’t remember a Saturday when he had sweated so much. When is Pope going to get a proper A/C system for his gym? It'd been a week since Frankie met you at Redfly's and Pope had finally convinced him to come in for a workout despite his excuse that he had Gabi that weekend. I'm sure your mamá would love to spend some time with her nieta, Pope had pressed.

Which is how Frankie finds himself, curls dripping in sweat, looking up at Pope's crotch as Pope hands off the barbell for him to bench. Fuck, he’s out of shape. And getting old. Pretty sure he could hear both his shoulders creak under whatever weight Pope had shoved onto the bar. He grimaces at how he is going to feel tomorrow.

As he finishes his set and sits up, Frankie catches a blur of lavender and black greeting Benny and beelining to one of the lifting platforms near the entrance of the gym. It was you.

“You can quit starin', Fish, she’ll be here at least 2.5 hours. It’s her SBD Day,” Pope ribs. "You text her about dinner yet?"

"Um…" Frankie pauses before choosing deflection. "Uh, what's SBD?"

"Jesus, Fish, it's been over a week," Pope chides.

"I mean, we've texted a bit," Frankie mumbles, getting up from the bench and turning to face away from you, one hand cupping his neck.

"Squat, bench, deadlift," Pope responds.

"What?"

"That's what SBD stands for," Pope grunts, laying back on the bench to complete his set.

"She's going to do all three in one workout?!"

"She's planning to compete this year, so yeah," Pope unracks the barbell on his own as Frankie just stands there dumbfounded. He was beat just benching with Pope this morning.

He takes another glance in your direction as you wrestle your knee sleeves on and flop dramatically on the ground when you finish. As other members filter around your platform, you greet them like old friends with that warm, beaming smile of yours. Even the perpetually furrowed brow woman doing tire flips in one corner of the gym breaks out a smile when you arrive and wave at her. Frankie had noticed her shirt first, a deep red t-shirt with cut-off sleeves that read "STRONGER IS HARDER TO KILL" in aggressive black text.

He could watch you lift all day. The way you set up for your squat with mechanical precision. Your entire body language changes with a flick of a switch. You could be casually chatting with another person, but as soon as you walk up to the barbell and click your belt in place, you are methodical, intentional, focused. When your hands touch the barbell a streak of aggressive energy swirls around you as you swoop under the barbell and set your feet, left foot, then right. Two deep breaths and brace. A flick of your ponytail over the bar. Back tight against the bar with an assertive lift-off. Right foot back, then left. A brief pause. Then squat. Loading into your lower body with control. High knees. Weight midfoot. Driving up into each rep. Rep after rep. Pause. Re-rack. The switch flicks back when you lever off your belt and you're giggling again about something with someone until your next set. Rinse and repeat. It is fucking hot.

"C'mon Fish, top set," Pope prods, bringing Frankie back from his reverie with a groan. "If you get a move on, maybe we'll finish in time for you to offer your spotting services to her when she gets to her bench."

Frankie hustles.

As he spots Pope for his top set, he notices a toned, blonde man with a garish tan approach you as you stand to do another set. Instead of greeting him with your usual smile you gave everyone else, he sees your entire body tense at the man's approach. Frankie couldn't hear what Blondie is saying to you but you cross your arms, hands gripping your upper arms as you move to the edge of your platform, giving you as much distance as possible from the guy. You shake your head twice to whatever Blondie says.

This guy makes you uncomfortable, Frankie thinks to himself, paying rapt attention to the interaction. He loses himself in thought wondering what the story with Blondie is, if you had dated him before, or...?

Pope's grunt snaps his attention back to his friend as he helps Pope re-rack the bar.

"Who's the guy?" Frankie asks, tilting his head towards your direction. Pope glances over before he shrugs and responds, "His name is Michael? Mike? Kind of a bro."

Mike seems to have finally gotten the hint and stalked off. You stand there for a moment before glancing around the gym wondering if anyone else saw the interaction. Your eyes fell on him and Pope, lighting up before mouthing hi and giving Frankie the sweetest smile and small wave. Frankie felt his cheeks flush as he smiles back and looks down at the weights he had been removing from the bar.

"Fish, why are you taking all the weights off? We still have backdown sets!" Pope rolls his eyes. "Focus, cabrón."

As he and Pope work through the backdown sets that seem to take fucking forever, Frankie keeps a sharp eye out for Blondie in case the man decides to bother you again. Everything seems to have gone back to normal, as you finish your squats and adjust the rack for bench. Frankie notices a sudden shift in the gym's energy. Energy amping up as it seems like everyone is watching you more intently than he is. What the fuck is going on?

"Oh shit, it's time," Pope says, snapping to attention and moves towards you. "Let's go, don't wanna miss out on..."

"I thought we had one more set?" Frankie asks as he follows behind Pope.

"SNACK TIME!" bellows the woman in the aggressive Harder to Kill shirt who now stands next to you.

"Descend like locusts" drifts through your mind as you dig out two enormous Tupperwares of baked goods. Thank God for powerlifters and their appetites, otherwise your co-workers would complain about all the sweets you brought to the office. You didn't need that kind of negativity around such a delicious act of love.

Snack time became gym tradition on SBD Saturdays, usually between squat and bench. This week you made fluffy cinnamon rolls, a batch of regular flavored rolls with a light icing and an experimental batch of ube flavored rolls with delicate coconut icing, making them a delightful purple dressed in white swirls.

"Fuck, these are so good," Pope groans before taking another large chomp out of his purple cinnamon roll.

You see Frankie standing behind Pope, glancing around, bewildered at the crush of powerlifters crowding your platform to grab a treat. You manage to squeeze through the throng of biceps and quads to reach him.

"Saved you half of each," you smile up at him before proffering up your baked treats. He seemed surprised you thought to save him some.

"S'good, so good," he groans between bites. "S'not too sweet either. I really like that."

"That's why we call her Sweets," the furrow-browed woman says as she walks up to you and Frankie. When Frankie gives her a confused look, she explains, "It's the highest praise she gives for dessert, not too sweet."

"Ah yeah, no one really calls me by my name," you explain with a shrug. "Everyone just calls me Sweets, honestly." Frankie nods with comprehension, shoving the rest of the roll into his mouth as if to give himself an excuse to avoid talking.

"Frankie, this is Chloé. Chloé, Frankie," you introduce the two of them. Chloé gives you a meaningful look before grunting a nice to meet you at Frankie. When she gives him an extra firm handshake you inwardly roll your eyes.

The first time you met Chloé, she immediately sized you up, trying to not-so-subtly find out if you were interested in Benny. It made sense since you had just squatted him in front of the whole gym to get him to shut the hell up. It could have been interpreted as a sweet pick-up move (if you thought so yourself, although you hadn't tried it on someone you actually wanted to pick-up, pick-up yet). As soon as you snorted that yes, you thought Benny was hot, but no, absolutely not your type, Chloé released her arched brows and decided you were okay, or at least not mortal enemies. She even offered some valuable insight into the idiosyncrasies of Pope's Gym and its members.

You soon learned that her fierce demeanor and myriad of furrowed expressions ("Yeah, I'm aware. My mom reminds me all the fucking time my face is going to get stuck like this if it hasn't already.") protected her thoughtful, kind, and sweet interior. Her broad shoulders, taut muscles, long single braid down her back, and aggressively worded shirts struck an intimidating image. You won her over once you plied her with snacks you kept in your gym bag. Premium snacks, every powerlifter's dream.

"Why are you sharing the good stuff," she asked, a skeptical arched eyebrow appearing once again.

"Us girlies gotta stick together," you reason. "Plus, who else is going to listen to you gush about Benny's abs?"

You both bonded over training cycles (fuck volume week, you can't count higher than 5 in the gym), training on your cycle (uuuuugh, just gut me now), creative ways to consume enough carbs (you both loved to bake and began swapping recipes at an alarming frequency), Benny's abs, and Pope's ass (dares may have been made to try and bounce a quarter off it). Chloé definitely had an enormous crush on Benny, but adamantly put her foot down when it came to dating anyone from the gym. Not gonna shit where I eat or something like that.

You treasured your friendship Chloé, the way she understood the highs and lows of training, didn't care you were basically a pariah in your family, and didn't give a flying fuck about other people's expectations. When you eventually shared why you moved to this part of town, how you ended up at Pope's Gym, and why you broke off your engagement, she looked you dead in the eye and congratulated you, "Sounds like that was a close call."

It made sense why she is now giving Frankie the once over, although you suspect it would take a lot longer and more than a few choice snacks to get Chloé to view Frankie without reservation. You appreciate how protective she is of you now that you are two peas in a powerlifting gym. Despite her own reservations about dating someone at the gym, she mostly kept her opinions to herself when you had mentioned going to have drinks with Benny's friends, including Pope's best friend.

Of course she was the first one you told the next morning as you warmed up for your workout — how the evening went, how you finally tried literally picking up someone you wanted to pick-up, pick-up, and your surprise when it worked. At the end of the night, Frankie had insisted on walking you to your car where he asked for your number with heat creeping up his neck before getting promptly distracted by your car. Wow, I've always wanted to drive one of these! Did you know they make some of the best rally cars? Oooh and it’s a manual! You may have suggested if he was lucky, you’d take him for a ride one day as you slid into the driver's seat. Before you even got home, your phone pinged with a message from him asking if you'd let him know when you got home safe.

"Just... be careful okay?" Chloé pressed, concern creased across her brows this time. "If Frankie starts working out here because he is the owner's best friend, you're gonna have to deal with some awkward shit if it doesn't work out."

"Good thing I have you as back-up," you teased back, earning you a Chloé shove of annoyed affection.

Frankie knows he's really in trouble now.

Between the glare from the serious looking woman, Chloé, shooting you pointed looks after you introduced the two of them, and the fluffiest, softest, most delectable cinnamon roll he's ever eaten in his life, he's either going to die getting strangled by Chloé when he eventually fucks things up with you or he's going to die of diabetes. Because Christ, you can bake too? How did you get the roll so light and fluffy? And just the perfect level of sweetness? Is that coconut in the icing on the purple cinnamon roll? Frankie loves sweets, but hates things that were so sweet it made his literal teeth hurt. Somehow you had managed the perfect balance of sweet. A fitting nickname, Sweets.

He peers around for the tupperware you brought, hoping a cinnamon roll may have escaped the locust of lifters that had descended just a few moments before, but the box is picked clean. It's then Frankie sees Mike grousing as he picks up and slams the container onto the floor.

"You didn't save one for me, Sweets?" he says, indignant words laced with outrage.

Frankie watches you flinch and move, putting as much space as you can between yourself and Mike.

"Fuck off, Mike." Chloé bites back, stepping in front of you.

"Even the new guy got one?" Mike jerks his head towards Frankie.

Frankie steps forward in line with Chloé and furrows his brows, hands clenching and unclenching. Who the fuck did Mike think he is?

"Yeah, well, I like him more," you push back, voice unsteady, staying partially hidden behind him and Chloé.

"What the FUCK did you just say bi—" Mike snarls, stalking forward just as Pope and Benny come up behind him. Benny clamps both hands on Mike's shoulders, staring daggers into the back of his head.

"Time to take a walk, buddy," Pope instructs, as Benny steers Mike around and marches him in the opposite direction. It takes Frankie a moment to realize he'd also moved, putting himself between Mike and the two of you, ready to protect. He drops his arms before turning back towards you.

Eyes wide, you release a long, shakey exhale and roll your shoulders away from your ears. After a moment you move to slide an arm around him and Chloé. "Thanks for having my back," you say to the ground. He can still feel a slight tremor in your arm before you drop them.

"Mike's such a fucking douchebag," Chloé huffs, glaring in the direction Benny and Pope had gone with Mike to before looking at Frankie with a flicker of appreciation before resuming her usual scowl.

"Wasn't gonna let him touch either of you," Frankie hesitates, "Know you're both strong women that can handle shit, but he's got at least 30 pounds on either of you. Wouldn't be ok just sittin' back if I could do something 'bout it."

Your eyes shift around him, glancing to make sure Mike hadn't suddenly come running back, before looking up at him, eyes still wide, before thanking him again. "Yelling... freaks me out. I — I don't... handle it very well sometimes." Chloé eyes you like she knows a lot more behind what you're talking about.

Frankie's unsure of what to do next. He wants to pull you to him, hold you, promise you you are safe and he won’t ever let Mike or anyone touch a hair on you ever. He longs to soothe the terrified expression off your face, wants to know what else made you so afraid besides what happened today. He isn’t good at many things, but Frankie knows he is built to protect the people he cares about, always making sure all the guys came home to their loved ones, safe. He wants to be the one who cares about you, protects you from anything that could hurt you, even if you are capable of standing up for yourself.

You take a few more slow deep breaths, staring at the entrance of the gym, before tearing off your squat shoes and knee sleeves. A switch flips and you're back to lifting mode, focused and determined, setting up the rack for your bench.

Frankie thinks he catches Chloé rolling her eyes when you shyly ask if he'd stick around and spot you in a few sets. "Absolutely," he breathes, delighted at the excuse to stay near you.

"Look," you continue, all business. "My top set is going to get real grindy, the bar might even come to a total stop, but don't touch the fucking bar unless it goes back down, okay?" you look at him over your shoulder waiting for confirmation before you lie back on the bench.

"Yes, ma'am."

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Notes: nieta = granddaughter; cabrón = asshole

🙏🏽 Thank you for continuing to read! Your comments and reblogs have been giving me lifeeeee! I'm still bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings, so if I missed something please let me know. Planning to post every other week since I have a lot of travel coming up.

I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Taglist is open: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held @littlemisspascal @burntheedges

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 22 -> CH 23

Tagging:@roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl @s-0lar @kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey @mayathepsychic1999 @x-prettyboy-x @rorylover71 @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

TW: Mutual Masturbation, Fingering, Jerking Off

Jack had gone home and practically paced waiting for Y/n to call. He knew she wasn't coming around until later but he was excited to spend time with her. He watched the clock and tried to work on a few pages to pass the time but once he heard the knock at the front door, he practically broke his foot trying to run down the steps.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, I didn't want to come straight over in my scrubs." Y/n let herself in and looked freshly showered but exhausted.

"That's fine, we can play it low key tonight and actually go out when you get a day off." Jack smiled gesturing towards the living room. She plopped down on one side of the couch and Jack followed suit on the opposite end. He had already ordered food and told her to get comfortable. She noticed he had his laptop sitting on the coffee table and gestured towards it.

"How's the writing going?" She asked kicking her shoes off so she could rest her feet on the couch next to Jack's leg.

"It's going pretty well, I had to keep myself busy today so I got a few pages written." Jack confessed making Y/n smile.

"Can I read some of it?" She asked carefully. Jack hesitated for a moment before passing her the laptop. He watched her read the pages, taking a mental note of her eyes scanning the words and chewing on her lip.

"Jack...this is really good. I mean it's dark as hell and I know it's supposed to be about your life but it's really good." Y/n looked up from the laptop and Jack's eyebrows went up.

"You think so? I mean it's a first draft but-" Y/n leaned the screen down to look at Jack.

"Shut up and take the compliment." She moved to sit next to him and scrolled through his pages to point things out

"I love how the story teller is framing these events in his life as small signs of what's to come. As if his path was predetermined by the actions of his father, an avalanche of tragedy." Jack just stared at her in amazement. He moved towards her to kiss her but the sound of the doorbell stopped him. Y/n laughed realizing he was going to kiss her.

"Should have ordered the food a little sooner." She smirked. He pushed up from the couch and grabbed the food. They fell into comfortable conversation about random things from the book to the chaos his appearance at her work caused. Jack had no regrets and was glad that there were people who kept her mind on him throughout the day.

"You're such a cocky punk. You knew my boss was going to eat you up with a spoon." Y/n shoved Jack with her foot and he caught it with his hands.

"How could I possibly know your boss was an older woman? I just do really well with older women." Jack bragged rubbing her feet. He could see that it was providing relief and kept massaging her foot.

"Now you're just distracting me with a nice...foot massage. Fuck your hands are strong." She hissed.

"Am I hurting you?" He stopped and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"No it feels great, don't stop." Jack laughed continuing to rub her feet.

"This is not what I thought I would be doing for you to say that." Jack teased. Y/n let out a laugh and rested her head on the back of the couch to look at him.

"Yeah? I take it the new meds are treating you well?" Y/n asked making Jack nod.

"I haven't started them yet. I'm afraid I won't be able to get off now if I change them now." Jack explained and Y/n shook her head.

"I can always take my shirt off if you're feeling repressed. Don't sacrifice your sanity and sleep for an orgasm, Jack." She sat up on her elbows and he laughed.

"Honestly I'm not even sure it would work if I tried to fuck anyone. For now, it works for me exclusively." Jack felt comfortable talking to Y/n about these sorts of things. He didn't know if it was because he was attracted to her or if it was because they had talked openly about the medications.

"Well then lets test it out." Y/n pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. Jack stopped rubbing her feet, allowing her to pull her legs back towards herself so she could unbutton her jeans and slid them just below her ass.

"Does this make you uncomfortable?" Y/n asked partially exposed. Jack could feel his dick stiffen and he shook his head, unbuttoning his jeans and show her the tent that was in his boxers.

"Not anymore." He said rubbing his cock on top of the fabric.

"You might want to take your shirt off...in the event you cum, I'd hate for you to stain one of your emo shirts." Y/n teased putting her fingers in her mouth. Jack can see her pussy as she pushes her panties to the side to finger herself. One hand pinched her nipples as she continued to play with her clit. He was so hard now, all he could do was stroke himself. Watching Y/n's fingers move in and out of her glistening pussy made him think about what it would feel like to have her ride him right here on the couch, her tits bouncing in his face as she fucked herself on his cock. He groaned freeing his cock, spitting on his hand and mixing that with the precum on the tip so he could have the feeling of skin to skin contact.

"Your cock looks even better when its hard. I fucking knew it would." Y/n bit her lip adding a third finger and letting her head fall back.

"Fuck..you can't...you can't say shit like that or I'm going to cum entirely too soon." Jack complained stroking himself faster.

"I wasn't aware we were being timed. I'm going to get off, when I get off." Y/n laughed watching Jack's chest rise and fall trying to catch his breath.

"Fuck I want to cum on your tits so bad." Jack said jaw dropping slightly staring at her tits bouncing with her rigorous hand movements. She used her free hand to pop the front of the bra open letting her tits spill out.

"Oh fuck." Jack moaned. He couldn't help but want to bury his face between them. Y/n continued to whine loudly and Jack wanted to be the one who pulled those sounds from her.

"Don't be shy Jack. I want to hear you." Y/n begged.

"I want to fuck you into this couch. I want to cum inside of you until it's running down your legs. I want to feel you cum around my cock." Y/n moaned Jack's name as she found her release, rubbing her clit and making her knees jump together as she pushed herself to keep touching sensitive bits. Jack could feel his orgasm building, eyes shut trying to get there. He was afraid if he got distracted he would embarrass himself and be unable to cum.

"Jack...open your eyes and look at me. I want you to look at me when you cum. I want you to know that the next time you cum, it will be down my throat." Jack watched Y/n take her wet fingers and put them in her mouth.

"Fuck!" Jack cried milking his cock until he was cumming all over the front of his shirt, almost hitting his neck. He slowed his hand down, feeling the jump of the sensitive tip as he grazed it.

It was silent for a few moments as they both looked at each other and started laughing.

"You're a fucking freak." Jack shook his head.

"And you love every second of it." Y/n stuck her tongue out at him.

"You also should have taken your shirt off." She reminded him pointing at the cum that was already starting to dry on his black shirt. She leaned forward to crawl towards him on the couch and Jack worried she might try to go for a second round.

"No worries, I'm not pushing the boundaries. I just wanted to give you something." Y/n leaned forward and kissed Jack carefully not to startle him of make him anxious. She let her tongue run along his own before pulling away.

"I wanted to say thanks and congratulations on the orgasm. It was great." She smiled in his face and he returned it.

"I also wanted to give you a little taste of what you're in for if you're down for a second date." Jack could taste her on his tongue and nodded.

"Is the first date already over?" He asked curiously and she laughed putting her head down for a moment.

"I don't want to make you feel cheap but if I don't go home now, I'll be too tired to walk home." She explained. Jack knew how tired she was and this probably only made it worse.

"It's okay. I completely understand." Jack put himself back in his jeans and watched Y/n pull her shirt over her head, not bothering to put her bra back on. He walked her to the door and she turned to look at him.

"This was a lot of fun Jack. I'm glad I said yes to a first date." Y/n smiled sweetly at him and he blushed.

"I'm pretty glad you said yes too. Let me know when you get home." Jack said rolling his eyes knowing that she was going to make a smartass remark about being across the street. She kissed his cheek and gave his hand a squeeze before walking out the door. Jack watched her walk down the drive and towards her house before shutting the door and running his hands down his face trying to take in what had just happened. He couldn't help but smile thinking about the night as a whole. He hadn't remembered having that much fun in one night with someone ever. He ran his hands down his shirt and felt his cum streak down his shirt more.

"Dammit." He cussed at himself knowing this shirt wasn't ruined but knowing he would get hard every time he wore it.

[lightandfellowship]

[theboywithburninghands]

So, this is probably gonna be the last fluff/filler chapter before the final arc is set in motion. So I figured why not scratch the ol’ hurt/comfort itch before things get super serious? @fernstarsblog your tag as always, but I figured I would also tag @dragonwritersblog as well since you’re a connoisseur of hurt/comfort. If you’d rather I untag you, I’d be happy to. Okay, uh, enjoy!

T/W: Era appropriate sexism, withdrawals and drug cravings, implied vomit, past parental abuse

Primum Peccatum Ch. 14: Last Dance with Mary Jane

“Time is a strange thing. It hurtles by us faster than we can see, yet never leaves a single grain of sand within the hourglass unaccounted for. It grinds our souls to dust from excess, yet we crave it oh-so greatly, as there is never enough.” - Connie McGregor, The Iron Rings, pg. 174.

Pomni Shutnyk asserted that this quote best described the following week and a half of her life. The hours slowed to a crawl, and yet the days trundled along at a steady pace. Most of this temporal disconnect could be attributed to what Pomni tasked herself with doing over the days before her wedding. She decided to help Jax through his withdrawals.

Truthfully, she didn’t need to. Altonicus left careful instructions on the tapering process. How much to reduce the dosage of laudanum over each day, how much fluids Jax needed to drink, how often to launder his bedsheets, etc. Jax could have done most of it on his own, as after the “cold turkey” debacle and the proper medications, his symptoms had become somewhat less severe. But having to suffer through that level of constant pain and need entirely on his own was something Pomni would not abide.

She hadn’t much desire to stay at The Shutnyk Estate anyway. Her parents took to ignoring her, especially her father, who shut himself in his office and took his meals at his desk. Her mother issued a few salutations in the mornings and best wishes in the evenings, but apart from that mostly kept to her gardening. Zooble had their duties and thus wasn’t a paragon of conversation either, apart from a few private discussions with Pomni about the day of the wedding.

It seemed to Pomni that The Shutnyk Estate was no longer her home, merely a liminal space where she ate and slept between staying with Jax. Perhaps it had been that way for quite some time, but it was only now that she felt comfortable admitting it.

She took the next morning after Jax’s family visited to bathe at last and then view the manor being built for them on the other side of the island. Her father hired a crew of Telychian workers for construction, as they were known for working quickly and efficiently. At least, her father liked to brag that Telychian men worked quickly and efficiently. The house was still nothing but a skeleton of oak boards by the time she arrived at the property. The workers were milling about, drinking coffee from tins that used to contain beans or fruit preserves. One worker seated on a log spotted her and called out something in Telychian which made the other workers laugh boorishly. They more than likely had no idea that Pomni was not only the future owner, but also the daughter of the man who hired them. But, Pomni didn’t speak Telychian, so she remained unbothered. Soon, the house would be hers to do what she pleased with.

—

Pomni truthfully hadn’t put much thought into how she would help her fiancé through his withdrawals. She was a poor conversationalist, and she didn’t have the stomach to ask her father if she could borrow any of his vinyls. He refused to let her touch them when she was a girl, and, given her recent behavior, probably would be disinclined to lend them to her now. It wasn’t until Pomni glanced down at the cover of the literary journal she borrowed from Kinger that morning that it clicked.

She could read to him.

They both loved books. True, he hadn’t finished Margaret’s Rise, but that was a significant undertaking, even for an experienced reader such as herself. She finished administering Jax’s medicine that morning before sitting at the desk chair.

“Mr. Krolik- …Pardon me. Jax. I’ve gotten a wonderful idea. Would you like for me to read to you? There isn’t much else to occupy our time with. A distraction is just the thing you need, isn’t it?”

Jax massaged his temples, a futile attempt to alleviate some of the pressure in his skull.

“I suppose so… But are you certain you’d enjoy that? Your voice may-”

Pomni interrupted. “Enjoy it? Jax. I’ve waited 25 years to meet someone, anyone to share my love of literature with. My parents were never interested, Mr. Kinger and Ragatha listened but had never read what I wanted to discuss… It would be an honor.”

Jax looked at Pomni. The young woman had her hands clasped together and wore an ear to ear grin, the first time he had ever seen her give a full-on smile. She was… beautiful, when she smiled. Perhaps that was the fever talking. Even still, he couldn’t help but smile wearily right back at her.

“I couldn’t turn down a look of such excitement even if I wanted to. I’d be honored if you read to me, dear.”

Pomni giggled with ebullient glee before she could stop herself. She blushed, covering her mouth and clearing her throat.

“I’m thrilled to hear that answer. Tell me, what would you like to read? There are hundreds of options. The only book I would request we not read is Humidity, as I’ve just finished that one. For a later date, perhaps.”

Jax rested his head on his pillow and thought for a moment. Thinking earnestly was difficult with a brain addled by pressure and a gnawing desire for opium..

“Something quite long and dense. Something that I can really become engrossed in without the prose being too dry. Something…. I can really become lost within.”

And please, opium. Please please PLEASE let him have some opium. He would feel ill for the rest of his life at this rate if he didn’t get opium-

“I have just the thing,” Pomni said excitedly. “I’ll be back in just a moment. Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t asked, have you read The Ties that Bind by Antoine Goethe?”

“Mmm… no. No I haven’t.” Jax said.

“Oh, you’re in for such a treat! I have a copy in my father’s library. I’ll be just a moment!”

Pomni leapt from her chair and hurried out of the room. Jax chuckled a bit, watching her disappear down the foyer steps. He had hardly seen her react with such enthusiasm to anything. Well, positive enthusiasm.

He laid back on his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. He had already counted the dots and smudges on it. 62. 43 dots, 19 smudges. Allfather save him, did he ever need opium. It would be so much easier to enjoy… anything if he didn’t feel violently ill. He was a wretch without laudanum… Having something to focus on other than his all-consuming need sounded pleasant, however. Even if it would be unsuccessful.

He dreaded the next time that Alton reduced his dosage. Sleep was already nearly impossible with how horrid he felt, and even if he could sleep, he dreamed of opium. Horrific, perverted dreams of opium. A woman, her eyes replaced with crimson red poppy flowers. Brown, psychoactive nectar oozed from the flowers down her cheeks, and she presented him with an entire bouquet of the dripping things, tempting him to drink his fill.

But, if he didn’t receive enough opium, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. No escape from the pain. Hours and hours and hours of nausea and aches, trapped in this cramped little room. He could imagine it now, his eyes red and exhausted but unable to find rest, his brain fizzling from overuse until it popped like a lightbulb and died. Completely alone in the dark.

He heard the front door open and close, and the pitter-patter of feet on the stairs. Pomni returned with a door stopper of a book under her arm.

“Apologies for the delay. This is a rather sizable novel, if you couldn’t tell. Do you need anything before we begin?”

Jax shooed away the single request that his brain screamed for. “No, this should be just fine. Thank you my dear…”

Pomni smiled again. “Then let’s sally forth. I can hardly wait.”

Pomni flicked to the beginning page and cleared her throat.

“‘So. When The Allfather, in his wisdom, created the cascading spheres of existence, he created that of Men last…’”

—

Four days came and went, Pomni reading to Jax for almost 12 hours every day. The Ties that Bind was by no means a short story, and yet they were nearing the end of the novel in a little more than half a week. It helped that Pomni was quite the orator. She spoke quickly yet clearly, seldom fumbling with difficult to pronounce words. She only stopped for meals, explanations, or the occasional long and quiet sip of water.

Jax was a talented listener as well. He only interrupted when he had to leave the room to be sick, and on rare occasions dozed off for an hour or so from the weariness of intense illness. Otherwise, he was attentive and insightful, asking good questions about the novel’s characters, some even Pomni had never thought to ask.

“Do you believe Jeremiah has feelings for Garvey?” he asked two days into the novel.

Pomni looked up from the novel and blinked. “Feelings? I don’t catch your meaning,” Pomni replied.

“Do you believe Jeremiah’s hatred for Garvey is a defense mechanism against the former’s feelings of attraction for the latter?” Jax clarified. “It would make sense. He tries to sabotage Garvey’s relationship with Edelweiss not out of love for the woman, but out of an ill-defined ‘disgust’ for Garvey. It could be a matter of social class, or he could be concealing his true sexuality.”

Pomni felt another smile creep up her lips as she looked back at the text. “That is a unique perspective. Unlikely, but original. I admire it.”

Kinger was more than happy to assist. It had been ages since he had entertained any guests for a significant period of time. In between caring for his insect collection and making sketches of some taxidermied Silurian beetles, he brought his two visitors small meals to curb their appetites and occasionally sat in to listen to Pomni read for a while. There were moments when he jumped in surprise at seeing Pomni return the dishes to the kitchen, but each time Pomni patiently re-explained the situation.

—

On the fifth day after the visit, Pomni received her wedding dress. Bubble somehow managed to haul the dress, which was packed in a sturdy pinewood freight box, up to The Shutnyk Estate’s front stoop. Again, most of Primum Peccatum’s citizens found it tiresome to try and explain how Bubble accomplished such feats.

“Please sign your name here, Mr. Rucksack!” he squealed, holding out a clipboard and pencil to Vladimir with no visible hands.

“That’s ‘Shutnyk,’ sir. Honestly, how do you find anyone’s domicile if you have such trouble remembering a single surname?” Vladimir groused as he signed his name.

“All apologies Mr. Knotwrap! Here’s the tool you’ll need to open the box! PTOOEY!”

Bubble spat an iron prybar onto the stone porch with a loud clattering ring. He then tucked his clipboard into his mailbag and bounced away down the path like a child’s rubber ball.

It took the combined efforts of Vladimir and Zooble to pry the lid of the crate loose, the nails squeaking as they were dragged from the wood. Zooble took the lid and put it in the back garden for kindling. The dress lay in the crate, worn by a sewing mannequin, insulated on all sides with eight inches of straw and wrapped tightly in brown paper. Zooble removed the mannequin from the crate, the headless, handless and legless thing looking like an effigy meant to be sacrificed. With a few swift claw strokes, Zooble removed the paper, and the dress fell free in a plume of feathers.

“Oh… it’s beautiful,” Mirella sighed. “Pomni, won’t you come try on your dress?”

Pomni watched the extraction from the second floor landing, holding onto the banister. She took a quick step back.

“Erm… is that wise? Isn’t there an old wives tale of bad luck occurring if the bride tries on her dress before the wedding?” she replied.

“Oh, hardly, piccola. Come now, let’s see how it looks on you!” Mirella insisted.

“Mother, I really should be…” Pomni began, but trailed off. She wanted to finish her novel with Jax.

“Ms. Shutnyk, respectfully, you should try on your dress. At least to see if it needs any adjusting.” Zooble said.

Pomni opened her mouth to reply, but closed it soon after. Zooble made a fair point, as always.

She decided to change in the dining room. It took 15 minutes, but Pomni eventually figured out how to get herself into the blasted thing. She remembered a passage from one of her novels about getting into a wedding dress, and the strategy that the character adopted worked quite well for her, shockingly enough. She looked at herself in the mirror.

“I’ve dressed now!” Pomni called. At this announcement, her mother hurried into the room as quickly as she could without outright sprinting, Vladimir and Zooble following after. Mirella put her hands to her mouth and gasped.

“Oh, darling…”

The dress was a perfect fit. Shiny white, sleeveless and only reaching her chest. It was patterned with pearl-like, sequential beads of fabric, neatly split into two halves by a white waistband. The bottom half of the dress was decorated with feathers, beginning with a few up at the hip before thickening into a full plumage down at the hem. The frosty paleness of the dress amplified the raven black of her hair, and made her blue eyes glimmer like freshly polished aquamarines.

“Do I look half decent..?” she asked, glancing away from the three pairs of eyes on her. Her skin prickled with itchiness.

“You’re so beautiful. Oh, I could swoon!” Mirella took out her fan and flicked it open, fanning herself rapidly and biting back tears. “Vladimir, look at our little girl! Isn’t she just exquisite?”

Vladimir looked the dress up and down. He must have still been a bit sore about the price, as well as everything that occurred during the Kroliks’ visit. But he managed a smile.

“You look gorgeous, lisichka.” he said. “The spitting image of the ideal Telychian woman.”

“I’m not too certain about the ‘ideal Telychian woman’ bit, but you are stunning in that dress, Ms. Shutnyk,” Zooble said. “We owe Mr. Gummigoo our thanks for such intricate craftsmanship.”

Pomni blushed deeper and kept her gaze fixated on the floor. She was still incensed at her parents for their foolhardiness these weeks, doubtlessly, but… she couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside upon hearing them genuinely call her beautiful. It did make her feel a hint of regret…

“Well… I’m very pleased to hear that. I… I’m rather looking forward to wearing it for the ceremony,” she said. “But I must be going. Jax is expecting me. Today is another milestone in…-”

She paused.

“Well, he was improving last night, and hopefully this morning his symptoms will have further improved. Zooble, you don’t mind putting my dress back on the mannequin, do you? I’m unsure how to go about it…”

“I don’t mind at all, Ms. Shutnyk. Do not forget your book.” Zooble replied.

Pomni peeled herself out of the wedding gown and back into her plain yellow and green sundress. She sighed with relief, her body being able to breath again: She hurried up the stairs to her room, picking up The Ties that Bind as well as a pink faux book box she received for her 16th birthday. It had a small brass lock and key, “for hiding secrets inside,” her mother had told her. The only issue with such a gift was that Pomni had nothing to hide for the past 9 years, until this week.

She took the tiny brass key from her pocketbook and opened the lock, taking out the bottle of laudanum from inside. Alton entrusted her with the responsibility of hiding the narcotic before he left for Blackshell Bay. She swished the liquid about inside the glass bottle. About five drops or so left. She’d need a new bottle in two days. Today was the first reduction of his dosage since he started the tapering process. She hoped he took the news well.

—

“I’m only to receive one drop?’” Jax cried, sitting up in bed.

“That’s correct. Those were Alton’s instructions,” Pomni replied. She set down his sick bucket beside the bed after washing it in the tub.

“I… I don’t believe I’m ready.” Jax said.

“Yes, I know. Will you please open your mouth?” Pomni squeezed the bladder of the tincture dropper, filling it with brown liquid.

Jax did so, Pomni putting a lone drop of laudanum on his tongue. She replaced the dropper and tucked it into her purse.

“…Apologies. That sounded quite cold. I struggle with empathetic language…” she admitted as she placed her purse on the cluttered desk. “What I meant to say is that… I know you’re frightened. I have never felt withdrawals, but I have been ill before. And I can only imagine how dreadful it would be to have the symptoms last this long…”

She picked up her novel and dragged the desk chair to the side of the bed.

“But, you have my word that I won’t leave your bedside without prior notice. I will keep you company for as long as you like. If you’d like for me to stay up all evening with you, then I shall. Insomnia is a symptom of withdrawal, is it not? I am no stranger to reading until the sun comes up. Although I may need to rest my voice as I’ve come dreadfully close to losing it the past few days.”

Pomni looked Jax in the eye and smiled.

“I’m quite fond of you, Jax. Therefore, I’m willing to help you through this.”

She quickly glanced away and itched a spot on her arm, but a trace of a smile remained. Jax felt his face warm up as he smiled right back.

“I’m quite fond of you as well, Pomni. You know, we should consider marriage.”

Pomni squinted and looked at Jax. She caught onto his jest after a few moments and smiled, then laughed. Jax laughed with her. For a few precious seconds, he entirely forgot about opium.

—

Pomni made good on her promise. She remained at Jax’s bedside the entire day, leaving only to use the restroom or to rinse out Jax’s sick bucket. Jax’s symptoms, unsurprisingly, worsened. He developed a high fever of 101 degrees, complete with chills and cold sweats, and his nausea worsened. As such, they needed to close the window to keep any drafts out. Pomni had donned one of Alton’s peppermint oil masks to curb the resultant entrapped odor, occasionally refreshing it to keep from going “scent-blind.”

The morning became the afternoon, which drifted into the evening. Pomni read the last sentence of The Ties that Bind just before sunset, closing the novel and clearing her throat.

“How did you enjoy it?” she rasped. Her voice was largely spent, but she wore an eager smile.

“My dear, it was wonderful. What an ending.” Jax said. “Mr. Goethe really knew how to tie up every loose end. I can’t say I was expecting Garvey to end up being the one to eliminate The Grande Masquerade. I suppose it fits the theme of the class war though, does it not?”

Pomni nodded in agreement. She cleared her throat again and stood. “I shall return in a moment. I’d like to get something for my throat. But I believe it’s time for your laudanum.”

Pomni gave her fiancé another solitary drop of opium. It wouldn’t be enough to stop the symptoms, but it would hopefully decrease their severity. She was going to up his melatonin dosage tonight. While those vitamins could also be habit forming, they were hardly as dangerous as opium… and Jax needed some rest.

She left for a while, returning the laudanum bottle back into her false book at home, obtained several real books from her father’s library and brought them to Jax’s room, and made a pot of coffee in Kinger’s kitchen. She had no need for coffee, as she got plenty of sleep and was gifted (and cursed) with excellent focus. But she planned on staying up as long as Jax was awake tonight. That could be until midnight, or the witching hour, or sunrise. And for that, she would need caffeine. Not only that, but a hot drink on her weary throat would feel excellent. She thought about making Jax a cup as well, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was some kind of stimulant.

She opted for warm milk instead. Although, given her dreadful track record with cooking, she asked Kinger for assistance.

“Why certainly, Ms. Shutnyk! I remember when I used to make you some warm milk when you couldn’t sleep for the winter solstice! I’ll be just a moment!”

Kinger put a saucepan of milk with a spoonful of honey on the stove. Pomni grinned a bit at his enthusiasm. He really was a natural father figure… She always thought it a dreadful shame that he had no children. Perhaps it would have benefited his mental well-being…

Children. Again, she was on the subject of having children. …Later. There were other, more pressing concerns at the moment.

She poured herself some coffee, borrowing some of Kinger’s milk and a few lumps of sugar. After stirring them into the mug, turning the shiny black disk of coffee light brown, she had Kinger pour her some of the warm milk in a separate mug, the older shapeman saving the rest for himself.

“My appreciation as always, Mr. Kinger,” Pomni rasped. “We really don’t deserve your hospitality.”

“Hogwash,” Kinger waved his hand. “I’m honored to assist your fiancé on his journey to self-betterment. Hurry along now before your milk cools or it will no longer be soporific.”

Kinger placed a small, fatherly kiss on Pomni’s forehead before exiting the kitchen with his share of warm milk. Pomni smiled and went upstairs with the two steaming mugs. She’d have to set a few days aside to visit Kinger after the wedding.

Perhaps more than a few. Lovable old fool.

—

Pomni sat at the desk in Jax’s room with an oil lamp for light, reading a wordy narrative poem from one of the anthologies she brought over. She brought two disused and cobwebbed lamps from around the estate into the room, one for her and another for Jax. As she suspected, the warm milk did little to actually help the rabbit fall asleep, but that was why she brought over an abundance of reading material. If he was to be stuck awake through the wee hours of the night, it was just as well he had something to do…

He sat up in bed reading a lean novel at the moment, Superhuman by Dean Rush. A well-written, if rather self-important 150 pages detailing a man’s rejection of the bland and unfeeling social norms of the time. Pomni often joked to herself that if the main character was female, the story would balloon from 150 to 1500 pages with all of the obstacles she would have to endure.

The coffee, unsurprisingly, worked a treat. Pomni quaffed her mug of the brew in a half-hour or so, and her brain was suddenly operating at 120%. She drummed a finger on her thigh rapidly as she read through the epic poem in front of her. She wished she had brought over her pen and some paper so she could do a proper close reading of the poem, but the mosquitos would be rampant at this hour so a trip to her house wasn’t worth the bites.

What was the hour at the moment, she wondered. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock. 2:20 AM. Goodness. She hadn’t stayed up this late in years… The last time she could recall was in her teens, when she endeavored to finish the third volume of Berndt Isley’s Sycamore before the fourth volume hit the shelves that December. She succeeded, but the next day was perhaps the only time her teacher ever gave her a demerit for sleeping in class. She didn’t regret it one bit.

There was a flutter and soft thump, Pomni’s ultra-alert face flicking over to the source like a watchdog. Jax had slumped over, the Rush novel sliding off his lap onto the floor. He snored softly. Pomni gave a mildly amused “hmph,” picking up the novel and setting it on the desk. That book quite literally put him to sleep. Jesting aside, she was relieved for her fiancé. At last some respite…

She had no reason to sleep at the moment, as her brain still sparked with energy. But she did need the lavatory, so she excused herself to do so. Upon returning, she found Jax entangled in his bedclothes, eyes closed and mouth strained in a grimace. He gave a weak, far-off mewl of fear.

“Jax…?” Pomni whispered. Her voice had yet to fully return.

Jax laid still a moment before thrashing about, mumbling something.

“Jax, you’re having a nightmare,” Pomni whispered, going over to the side of his bed.

Jax laid still again for almost a full minute, then cocked his head to one side and squinted his eyes. He mumbled again, this time clearly enough to be understood.

“No… father…” He gave another whimper of fear and rolled onto his side, curling his knees to his chest.

Pomni hesitated, and after a few moments of trepidation, placed her hand on his shoulder. It quaked, and sweat dampened his nightshirt. She felt the familiar burning sensation on her hand, like she had placed it on a hot kettle and needed to remove it immediately.

“Jax, it’s me… It’s Pomni, please wake up..!” she whispered. She jostled his shoulder, fighting the urge to pull her hand free.

Jax’s yellow eyes shot open with a gasp, and he scrambled backwards on the bed, pressing himself to the wall.

“FATHER- no, please, I didn’t… …What?” Jax looked around, his mind not fully cogent yet. He glanced all around the room for where Drexl may have hidden, but, seeing only Pomni, he slumped against the wall, breathing unsteadily.

“…I’m afraid you were having a nightmare, Jax.” Pomni whispered. “A shame, you had just fallen asleep…”

“Father… he hasn’t-?” Jax muttered.

“Your father is not here. You’re not in any danger, I promise you…” Pomni whispered.

Jax looked down at himself and nodded. His eyes were bleary and expression flat, but the soft quivering of his ears betrayed his fear.

“Jax…” Pomni began. She suddenly felt an overpowering urge. Perhaps her inhibitions were lowered by the caffeine, or perhaps a latent feeling had at last bloomed within her, but she climbed onto the bed. Jax turned to look at her.

“Miss Pomni…?” he asked.

“Please don’t speak. Just… hush.” Pomni whispered. She knelt on the bed and chewed her thumbnail. “Oh, blazes… 1… 2… 3.”

She hugged him. His rail-thin body jolted at the sudden gesture. Pomni squeezed him, ignoring the muggy warmth of his shirt, as well as the dampness of sweat down his back. She put a cheek to his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat, which surely matched her own. He put a paw on her back in reply.

She wanted so badly to release him, her body pleaded that it stop touching another living, breathing thing. And yet, bafflingly, she wouldn’t have let him go for the world. He didn’t deserve to suffer, especially not on his own.

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

hey so after I posted that fossil pic of my old twilight ticket I got a flood of new twilight followers and it helped inspire me to work on Love Bites, But So Do I! so here ya go!

Love Bites, But So Do I: CH 4

Chapter 4

Fandom: Twilight book/movie series Ship: Jacob/Bella/Edward, twihard polycule Tags: Eclipse-Tent Scene but bier/polyer, bi jacob black, bi edward cullen, psychic sex, biting kink, threesome, first time sex Ch Preview:

“Well. This isn't what I expected,” Jake says, taking in the vaulted ceilings, marble counters and multiple, open windows.  “That's what I said too!” Bella says, remembering her first time in the Cullen home.   “Are the coffins in the basement, or-” Jacob teases and now Bella laughs, high and light. It echoes off the high ceilings and brings a smile to both boys faces.  “OH!” Bella says suddenly, grabbing two shock faced teenagers and dragging them upstairs. “Wait till you see the bed!”  - Bella’s right, the bed is great. But Jacob’s pretty sure that has more to do with the heated, panting body between him and Edward than it does the size of the mattress or the thread count of the sheets.  Though it was Bella’s idea to ‘tour’ Edward’s room, it was collectively their combined decision to soak up the moment they were all alive, healed, and alone.  Both boys have lost their shirts and Bella is only in her underwear, lying between them as they make out. Bella’s pushing her tongue into Jacob’s mouth, moaning every time Jacob’s hand squeezes her hip or Edward’s teeth brush across the bare skin of her neck. It’s more than a little obvious by the way she’s pushing her ass against Edward’s dick she wants this to go further.  “I think you were onto something Jake,” Bella says with a panting chuckle when Jacob finally releases her mouth. “Told ya,” Jake brags and Edward rolls his eyes.

[at1nys-blog]

Next Door

When you try to save your friends from bad press (your father's opinion on them) ending up having to find a way to survive it turns different than what you expected, but along the way there are your best friends, new friends and a very annoying gym bro that lives just Next Door

Previously on... Next Door//More about... Next Door//Next on... Next Door

Vol.13 Ch.56-your downfall

yn.ishere

liked by yasusopp, idc_sabo0, moneky_dluffy, _nami_ and 2.654 others

yn.ishere: caffè hopping with Zoro felt like an adventure I put myself on. He liked it at the end don't worry

tagged z0r0

_nami_: you sure he wasn't plotting your downfall?

^yn.ishere: no he was not, trust me

^z0r0: @/_nami_ I was

pinkyrona.: bring some food back home

^z0r0: the way you care more about food than my well being

san_ji3: why don't you take ME out???

^yn.ishere: because I am not interested, sorry

^z0r0: stop lying you aren't sorry

^yn.ishere: shhhh

koalala: you left me to take HIM out? Why couldn't I come as well?

^yn.ishere: I need to charm him and make him fall in love with me once again

^candychopper: ...

^z0r0: you shut it and all the cotton candy you want is on me

^candychopper: deal

z0r0

liked by yn.ishere, acenotass, shim0.kuina, art.kaya. and 3.556 others

z0r0: finally home after a day of drinking and eating

tagged yn.ishere

_nami_: don't you complaining it was free

^yn.ishere: she is right, I payed for you

^shim0.kuina: you would have bragged if she took you out like that

^z0r0: that was before, she is now forcing me to do stuff

acenotass: I would have cooked for him

^yn.ishere: and burn down the house? By the way I need a new appartament

^pinkyrona.: I will come with you house hunting

^_nami_: @/yn.ishere do I have to ask Robin?

^z0r0: NO

^yn.ishere: @/_nami_ don't worry thanks though

[uyuartik]

othello ch.4| anakin skywalker x reader

tags: othello au mini series, no major character death (just want to make that clear), borderline dark fic, and now we're back to the plot things, iago is at it again, lots of angst, only 2 chapters left...

summary: It's Iago's turn to make a move.

also crossposted on ao3!

word count: 1183

prologue | ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | finale

chapter 4

Hearing about Anakin’s little visit to your room, Iago was on edge- he knew he needed to act and he needed to act fast. Having Emilia trapped in a cage, he used those precious moments exactly right, having her steal your handkerchief while you prepared for a bath. She almost got caught, out of guard when she noticed your cheery attitude. The piece of fabric was on the edge of slipping through her fingers as she moved to ask you about it, but you interrupted with a giggly remark about- whatever, she was distracted like you, and with the feeble task of fetching you another bottle of rose oil she left your room.

She had another moment of shock when she ran into Anakin after that little escape- in your hallway, at this hour? She was not God’s favorite that day, was she?- and Anakin had a sense that she was not agitated because of the usual prejudice they all had for him; for not sharing their native land, for picking up this career older than most of his colleagues yet surpassing them in every category. No, she had an acute worry, yet, Anakin was never the type to corner a lady and get the information out, even though it bothered him dearly, her scurrying away from your room like that. She was one of your dear friends, you spent most of your time with her- he couldn’t help but feel concerned.

Yet, the day took a different turn when Iago continued with his second act: planting evidence and calling for the witness. Poor Anakin… Hours, it took him hours to breathe properly again, his mind and his heart waging a strong battle. A little whisper from the depths of his spirit told it was impossible; that something, some great game was afoot, but his eyes had seen the undeniable proof- the handkerchief he gave you, laying casually on Cassio’s dirty nightstand, further stained by his bragging about the whore he had gotten it from. Anakin didn’t know why he didn’t slit his throat at that moment. His captain and his wife. The two people he trusted the most on this planet. Like an earthquake that destroyed his world, but he felt no shaking or the smoke- a blink and all was upside down.

It sounded like an old tragedy or a curse, and he rejected that fate.

He saw you first, when he came home. You were talking to the servants, and if that invisible string you both referred to from time to time weren’t magically real, you would keep talking, not noticing the piercing gaze of those blue eyes. It only took seconds for you to search for his presence, and locate him, totally missing out on the concerned look on the faces of the maids as they took their leave.

Your radiant smile only beamed lighter as he approached with big steps, heavy boots thudding against the marble, the front of his shirt tugged open. Of course, that impossibly stubborn expression of fury on his face distorted yours as well.

“My lord!” You greeted him, most welcome. There was a time he wouldn’t let either of you leave this entereé without a kiss, without your laughter echoing throughout the walls.

He nodded, tongue-tied at the first sight of you.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” You continue. God, you missed him. “You came so late, and we barely speak these days- there are matters we should discuss-“

“Like what, my dear wife?”

“I’ve been wishing to speak to you about Cassio.”

That wretched name made his head boil. “I think we got better things to talk about.” While he wasn’t trying to lure you into a trap, he hoped for a swift confession.

“My lord, it’s been weeks since you stripped him of his rank, it is enough-“

“Angel, care to lend me your handkerchief, it has been a hot day.”

“Here.”

“No, the one I gave you.”

You frowned, realizing that while this was very similar, it wasn’t the one. But you never carried another, or opted for a change today. “I- I took a bath this morning. It probably got mixed up between my clothes, I’ll look for it when I go to my room.”

“You need to do better than that. You know it was my mother’s, right?”

Your heart dropped and your face went pale.

“She told me that the enchantress who gave it to her promised that whoever had it would be blessed with a faithful partner, peace of mind in the marriage. It would bind them together with an unbreakable bond, and if it werelost- or given to another,” That was the part you shook your head “loath would spurt and eyes would seek others.”

He wouldn’t. He just said it to hurt you, and you can’t argue that you don’t deserve it.

“My lord, I swear it was here this morning- I always put it in my drawer in the night to keep it safe.”

Safe. He chuckled with fried nerves. Safety and trust were the two pillars that had crumbled and fallen to his feet. “Who did you give it to?”

The accusation took your breath away, and you couldn’t answer for a second. “Nobody- I never give it to anybody, I even wash it myself to keep others from touching it.”

“So, what you mean to say, is that I am unable to keep my house safe, and perhaps somebody came here and took it?”

“No, NO!” Somehow, him accusing himself was worse. “Our home- the entire Mediterranean Sea is safe because of you. It was you who assured it.” You sniffled. “I don’t understand, I didn’t give it away, and nobody took it- why would anyone take” God, you couldn’t even use the word “steal” “the token of our love, the sacred bond between us? Who could dare to disrespect our holy union- it is an insult to God. None- no soul in our home could be so evil.”

Evil. How little you knew of it- how little you believed in it.

It felt like somebody was tearing down his heart in two; the fire consumed it, and your tears turned it to ashes. He couldn’t dislodge the knife of betrayal away, yet he couldn’t believe he was stabbed at all- your hand was not fit to wield that blade.

He ran his hand through his locks, his breath unsteady. Taking a few steps back, he tried to collect his thoughts,- the task proven to be impossible as the sound of your sobs filled the room, and you were frozen with indecision, reaching out to him or searching the house brick by brick til you found it, you could never lose it, it surely was somewhere in here.

Then, he exited the same way he came, all fiery and stormy, rocking your world again. You rushed to your room and yanked the drawer of your vanity so hard that it came loose, and you rummaged through the white fabrics that had fallen to the floor- and then the next drawer…

[m-feline]

To adapt, to survive, to live- ch 23

Silco x Freader

Tags; ACT II, business, tattoos, canon language, mentions of smut, fluff;

Previous ->

Years had passed and things looked very different in the entire Undercity. The place was livelier than ever. The Lanes were now the center of all different and new types of augmentations, entertainment, and chemical mixtures, both good and bad.

“Anything else to report?” I asked as I walked the busy streets of Lanes. Streets, we had freaking streets now. What we had before was barely a road. And now we had cars beside carriages.

“Nothing from the houses, ma’am,” Jolynn said. Jolynn became my personal assistant when I began to run the import business on the other side of the bridge. She was raised on the street like everyone else in Lanes. But she had a brilliant memory when it came to people and who did what. So she was perfect to aid me when it came to the houses, and relaying people to my import business. She was a very solemn person but I didn't need her to be anything else. She knew how to behave if we were with a client or business partner. And when asked she always gave the facts nothing more.

“Anything regarding my new project?” I asked as I kept walking with her.

“Signed said it will be ready in a day or two but I would dare say it will be done later. He was working on other variants of Shimmer again,” Jolynn said and kept her walking phase the same as mine.

“I see,” I said knowing that my project will be delayed for at least two more days. “And my current projects?”

“People are liking the consistency of the new ink for tattoos,” Jolynn said. “We got already several parlors asking for the ink.”

“Give it first to our regulars. And tell them to charge extra. And if the motifs are bigger than an apple charge triple,” I said. “Oh, and never to use it on the face. They look great anywhere else. But someone might go blind if it goes too close to the eye. Some chemicals aren't meant for the face.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jolynn said. “As for the new eye drops.”

“We will not sell those for the tattoo parlors,” I said. “Only for augmentation parlors and repair shops. Those drops will be beneficial for those who don't have natural eyes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jolynn said.

“Let's sit at that place, I need a cup of coffee,” I said and pointed to an augments café place. Many places like bars, cafes, and clubs were opening everywhere in the Lanes. Especially since many people from the top had gotten interested in the products. Sure, shimmer was still the biggest thing in the Lanes. But some also came to get a cool tattoo, augmentation, or a look that no one else could give them in normal ways.

My inks, drops, and oils were hit on both sides of the bridge. Jolynn even informed me that Council Medarda was interested in certain products of mine and was asking for a meeting. I was pleased to hear that. With her help, I could boost something else if I could play my cards right.

I had just received my coffee when Jolynn and I heard three guys talking behind us about their last night's happenings.

“I tell ya, the gal was screaming when she came,” One of the guys said a bit too loud. I saw Jolynn's face get dark and other patrons of the place also scowled at the table of the three guys. It was one thing for people to brag about their escapades at other places. But this café was mostly for those who needed to cure their hangover, read in silence, or have a civil conversation with business partners. One reason why Silco and I preferred this place. Mostly me, since Silco stayed in his office for work and left only if needed. But when we had our date nights, we would come to this one if we wanted a quiet after-hours drink.

“Ya sure she didn’t scream for ye face?” Another guy asked. Seriously? This place is for quiet chill, no one cares who they fucked. I saw Jolynn play her fingers with the knife on her table set. Knowing her past she hated guys like the ones behind us. She was raped and almost killed once. Because I know how one feels after such a horrible experience, I gave her a job that should keep her away from all that. And if someone is crazy enough to try it, they are lucky if they live the day after that. Besides Silco's own men, I had two guys who could spar with the twins and still do an all-nighter on the same day. And Jolynn had gotten good with her knife skills. Lace those knives with my paralyzing drug, those guys will sleep for three days straight.

Now I worried that Jolynn might use those knives, on anyone who even looked at me the wrong way. Did she get that from Silco or Jinx, I have no idea. With one glance from me, she stopped touching the knife in front of her. Soon someone else will come and tell those guys to shut up or leave. And by the looks of everyone else, those guys will wish it was the waiter and not one of the patrons.

I didn't pay attention to the three guys anymore, because my eyes spotted someone else in the café. Zain. The same Zain I let live when I had my revenge for my mother. He had a lot of nerve to show up here. If these people know he is an Enforcer he is dead meat.

“Keep the table for me,” I said as I got up and left the place. I barely heard a waiter arrive and tell loudmouths to sush it, when I went through the door outside. I turned to the left and walked some way before an empty alley appeared at my side. I heard steps behind me, but before they reached me, I turned and grabbed the collar of the man and pushed him to the alley and against the wall. With a quick move of the wrist, I made a small blade appear from my sleeve.

“You got a lot of nerve to come here,” I hissed at the man as I brought the blade to his throat. Zain looked even more pathetic than when I saw him on my wedding night. He was so skinny. People here could break him by just snapping their fingers.

“I… I… I'm not here to cause trouble,” Zain stuttered. “I-I'm just here to deliver something.”

“A revenge?” I asked bringing the blade closer to his skin.

“No, no, nothing like that…” Zain said fearfully. He looked at his bag that hung at his side. “It's in the bag.”

I let go of his collar and moved my hand to the bag. I kept the blade pointing at him while I searched the bag. There were some clothes and a package but nothing dangerous like weapons or bombs. Since the package was the only thing that seemed interesting, I pulled it out.

“It was your mother's,” Zain said when he saw me bring out the package. I saw red again and pushed him against the wall with the blade alone.

“Why do you have it?” I asked growling and my snake slithered to my face.

“Her case was closed a couple of days ago. All evidence was released,” Zain quickly explained. “This was among them.”

“Why do YOU have it?” I asked.

“Because there was no one else to collect it,” Zain said quickly. “That book was one of the reasons others went after your mother. Sam tried to get it back, but he too…”

I didn't need to hear the rest. I let go of him. The moment I did he fell to his knees and rubbed the spot where my blade had pinched his throat. While he did that I opened the package. It was a book as Zain said. Unlike my other journal, this one wasn't in code. I could detect Demacian language, old one at that. Some pages had Ionian phrases. My mother taught me Ionian when I was small, but after she died I only learned Piltovan from Sam. Demacian I had to learn from different sources due to my work.

If you looked at the book without knowing any of the languages it did look like a book of witchcraft. With all the little drawings of dragons, snakes, and plants, it looked more and more like a book of horrid black magic stuff. But if you knew the languages and, like me, had a snake as a signia, things written there were very… interesting.

“Who knows of this book?” I asked. “Has anyone tried to read it?”

“No,” Zain said. “The only people who knew about it are gone. Except me. The only one who read it, or I think has read it, were Harris and Sam. I… I took a peek but I don't know Demacian.”

“So you just brought it to me?” I asked suspiciously. “Why?”

“In all honesty, I just want to leave everything behind me,” Zain said. “I'm leaving this evening with an airship to Bilgewater. But I had no idea what to do with this. Sam was determined to get this back even after he quit the forces. I… I sort of wanted to… do the right thing.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. Seeing Zain made my blood boil. But it was thanks to him that I lived that night when my mother died. If he had told others he found me… But he was there with them when they…

“I want nothing to do with you,” I said not looking at him. “So I’ll pretend not to have seen you today. This came to me by an anonymous sender.”

“Alright,” Zain said. I didn't watch as he gathered himself and walked away. I looked at the pages as I went through them. The book may not be about witchcraft but it was definitely about magic. But nothing like Hextech. It was about the signias. My signia and the two legendary ones in particular. I took the book with me back to the café and sat back in my seat. As I drank my coffee I went through the pages. Jolynn didn't ask where I got the book or about what it was. But I could tell she was curious about it. The noisy bunch had left and the café was nice and quiet again. We sat there a good while before we headed back to the Last Drop. We went through a few details regarding the houses and what they needed as we walked. Once we got to the club, Jolynn went to get a drink while I went to the kitchen and prepared dinner for whoever had earned it today, and for my husband.

I didn't get to see him till nighttime as he had a couple of meetings as well. I had to leave the food under a cover on his desk and get back to our room.

I was in bed reading the book I got when he walked to our room. He groaned as he pulled the cravat off and began to undo the vest. I knew by the signs that he didn't have a good day, but it wasn't a bad day either.

“Tough day?” I asked as I set the book down to the nightstand.

“No, just disappointing,” Silco said as he took off the vest.

“Someone screw up?” I asked.

“Yes,” Silco sighed.

I didn't ask more. If he wanted to tell me he would. After several years of marriage, I have come to know how he was after different work days. If he wouldn't tell me he thinks it isn't worth mentioning. If he would tell…

“The shipment didn't get through the bridge this time,” Silco said as he opened the door leading to the bathroom. It was that sort of day then.

I got up from the bed put on a see-through robe and walked to the door but I didn't enter the bathroom. Silco began to do his before-bed routine, he cleaned his face from makeup, brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, and later he would place an eye patch over his scarred eye.

“What stopped it this time?” I asked.

“The idiot didn't do the papers correctly,” Silco grumbled as he dabbed the skin around his scarred eye with a cloth.

“Our idiot or Marcus's?” I asked leaning to the door frame.

“Our idiot. We don't need Marcus for this sort of thing,” Silco said.

“But you will need him to the Hexgates,” I said. Silco had now started to plan to send shipments of Shimmer to other places. But that was becoming harder and harder. I too had trouble with it at first, but after a long process and several checkups later I managed to get three products out of Lanes to the Piltover, and two of those were now on their way to Nexus and Demancia. And if I could get Councilwoman Medarda to invest in my products, I get one more export product and rest can be sold in the Lanes.

Thanks to my import business many companies got products that required odd but unknown ingredients. Thanks to Singed and old notes my mother left in the journal, I knew exactly what to bring in and how. The progress Day was on the way for several weeks, but people were already getting ready for it. And that meant they needed products that only I could provide. With a mix of certain ingredients, many machines and inventions worked without the nasty smell of oils or burning fumes. It was also my products that they could add color to their “advanced” decorations. All and all Piltover made themselves look even more fancy. The irony was that I aided in that. But that's how I got money to do other businesses.

“It is not easy to get something new through the bridge,” I sighed. “You need to do it in small steps first. And get someone from that side to bring it with them first.”

“You know that's not going to happen,” Silco said before he began to brush his teeth.

“Then get it through in small stashes, gather it in one place, set Marcus to keep nosy ones away, and then arrange someone to take them to a ship,” I continued. “Remember how hard it was for me to get the ingredients for the hair dye, across the bridge to this side?” Silco hummed in confirmation.

“It took a while but I did it and without needing you to call Marcus,” I said, Silco gave me a knowing glance. “Though yes, we almost went for that one too. My point is you need patience with this. And to be smart about it. And maybe pass a coin or two for the right people.” Silco finished brushing his teeth and looked at me for a moment.

“How much are you getting across the bridge?” He asked knowing the answer himself.

“On these days? More than they should allow. But that is why some of them come to this side themselves instead of me sending it to them,” I said and moved away from the door. Yeah, I was busy selling the stuff for whoever needed to make something for the Progress day. Some asked for a huge amount of ingredients and I too was having trouble bringing it across the bridge. But when it was someone from their side going through, there was never trouble in transporting the cargo. To think they had these days people to check the bridge and whatever passes from there. But it had gotten easier than before.

I thought about telling Silco what I got from Zain but as I knew his mood, he wasn't going to listen this time. Or if he did he was going to get Zain killed for coming back. No, he had too much on his mind right now. And knowing him he was going to need a way to relax. As I considered telling him about my day, I failed to see him come out of the bathroom in his briefs and walk right behind me before he snaked his arms around my waist.

“I know you are trying to make me feel better, but I rather not talk about work right now,” Silco said as he kissed my neck. “In fact, I rather not talk at all.” Yes, this is how it usually goes after a tough day.

“Surely, not all day was so bad,” I said teasingly. I can't let him have his way every day it gets tough. Which is very often. At this part, Silco usually rips and tears my nightgown off. But today I wanted to spare my clothes from such fate. “Wasn’t there anything good happening today?”

“If you don’t let me have you then no. Nothing today is good,” Silco growled annoyingly.

“So impatient,” I tutted him as I leaned against him. “You could just ask, I will gladly remove my gown instead of you ripping it into pieces like the others.”

“I don’t ask, my dear,” Silco said growling. “Not when I'm in this mood.”

“And what is your mood then?” I teased. “Are you so angry that you carry a knife to our bedroom, or are you just so happy to see me?” I said as I sneaked my hand to feel him.

“You naughty little minx, you know very well what it is,” Silco said trying to sound menacing but it failed as he felt my hand. “Take. That. Dress. Off.”

“Since you asked,” I said and turned to kiss his cheek. While I took off my sleeping gown, I saw in my peripheral that Silco went to his nightstand and put on an eyepatch. He needed that for sleeping. And we both knew that after our salacious activity, he would not get up just for one eyepatch, even if it was for sleeping. But one time I almost poked his eye in the morning so I demanded that he used it every night. But as I had said before I wasn't going to make it easy. I had removed the nightgown but left the robe on. And since it was see-through, Silco had no trouble noticing how my snake went around my hips and the head remained on my stomach.

“What are you doing?” Silco asked his menacing tone coming back.

“I took the nightgown off, just like you asked,” I said innocently.

“Yet why you are still wearing clothes?” Silco asked as he came closer. He sounded menacing but that little quirk on his lips told me he was enjoying this as well.

“It is cold, you don't want me to get sick, do you?” I said pouting as innocently as I could.

“Get that thing off so I can warm you up,” Silco said coming to stand right in front of me. This is the part where I could decide if we get passionate and hard lovemaking before lights out. But I know Silco had a busier day tomorrow and I had also a couple of places to visit, so tonight was going to be the usual.

I lifted myself to my toes and kissed him on the lips while pressing myself against him. In a matter of seconds, Silco had me in the bed towering over me, and soon he was pounding me as he did during our honeymoon. After Jinx moved to her new “room”, if I could call it a room, we had had many nights like this. Silco would have me in our bed, sometimes hard something sensually, but it always ended with both of us satisfied and tired. It also guaranteed that he won't murder anyone the next morning.

We were also a bit free to exploit more into this activity ever since Jinx found her new “room”. I call it room since it is still very close to the Last Drop. Otherwise, I'd call it her “place”. But since it is connected to the Last Drop in a couple of “ways”, I stick to the room concept.

So many things had changed since Silco and I got married. Yet the dream of Zaun still felt too far away. I know because now that the Hexgates got even more popular, the Lanes had more trouble keeping up with the commercials of the other places. I managed to get my own business to squeeze into their spot in the import businesses, but it still didn’t help Silco with his own projects.

“What products did you sell again?” Silco asked me as he lay partly on top of me, his head resting on my chest.

“You know very well what I sell,” I said tiredly after our make-out session. He must be desperate to get the Shinmer to the docks if he brought that topic to our bed.

“I wish to hear it anyway,” Silco said and kissed my collarbone. I sighed and began to list what my products were. As I spoke Silco held me tighter and made himself comfortable on top of me, so his head could lie right between my boobs.

“And how did you get them across the bridge?” Silco asked once I listed all my products. I didn't want to talk about work. Not in our bed. And since I was tired I was also a bit annoyed. The snake was barely at my face when I used my hand to grab some of Silco's hair from the nape of his head and lifted his head up from my chest.

“I don't want work to our bed,” I said with a tired and angry tone. For a very short moment, there was surprise and shock in Silco's eyes but it quickly turned into a knowing smile and his hand came to rest over mine which held his hair.

“Apologies, dear,” He said and slowly removed my hand from his hair. “I simply have no other chance to speak with you while we are both relaxed like this.”

“If it's work we can discuss it in your office,” I said.

“Oh, but we agreed we won't practice certain things in my office,” Silco said and brought my hand to his lips to kiss it tenderly. “Or in the kitchen.”

“You really want to talk about work after sex?” I asked not believing him.

“Sometimes,” Silco said and kissed my hand again. “Sometimes I simply wish to remain in your embrace and fade to sleep.”

“You are impossible to live with sometimes,” I sighed. I tried to move my hand away but Silco kept it tightly in his hand as he kissed my palm and began to move to my wrist. “Not too long ago. You didn't want to talk about work or anything else but now it's you who started the topic.”

“My mood improved, my dear,” Silco said as he kissed my wrist. “You could ask me to shut down one of my factories and take a day off, and I would oblige.”

“Really?” I asked with a hint of amusement. “If I ask for you to stop making Shimmer altogether and take off for us to have some quality time together, you would do it?”

“All in reason, dear,” Silco warned me and graced my wrist with his teeth. “Good sex gets you so far.”

“What about great sex?” I asked still amused.

“With our schedules? I doubt we have that much energy,” Silco said and let go of my hand and resumed to hug my body.

“You maybe,” I giggled and felt him squeeze me in his arms.

“Sometimes I think that signia is giving you too many advantages,” Silco sighed and was slowly falling to sleep.

“And you love it, just admit it,” I giggled and hugged him back. I barely heard a hum of an answer before Silco fell to sleep while holding me. I reached to kiss his head before I too got sleep in his arms.

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