#entirely unconventional

[imaginedreamwrite]

Entirely Unconventional

Part 10: Once, And Again

Enjoy the show? Have a fun night? Did you and König recover?

Nicht so süß und unschuldig kleines Kätzchen

Damn fucking brat

“Hey LT!” He felt pain behind his eye, the sudden sharp twitch had come within seconds of his mind registering Soap McTavish’s voice, and the weight of another trip back to that hell-hole in the middle of the same desolate state.

That armoury and artillery compound they’d invaded had been secured, everything inside was transported. But the man who was funnelling money into the operations in the middle of God knows where, was still hiding. Captain Price had given the objective, for the two of them, to head back to that place and flush him out.

The man who had funnelled money into this compound, this storage facility for munitions and artillery, was squirrelling himself somewhere in the backwoods and rural properties of the villages and farmlands. It made him both an easy target and a little rat bastard hiding in the crawl spaces of abandoned farmhouses.

“Looking forward to going back, sir? S’been nearly two months since you saw her last! You wanna make a stopover?” Soap’s suggestion was as much of a jest as this emotionless exterior as it was a genuine attempt at getting the cold Lieutenant to relax.

It was your fault, you had done this. You had started this fucking problem with your fingers, and your moans. The sound of your pleasure had centred itself in his mind again, a reminder of the passion that was thickened by the bond of being each others soulmates.

You, and your damn masturbation habits, had broken the straw that kept their own hunger at bay.

It was one too many bands that had snapped, and that pressure led to both Ghost & König experiencing the first rolling snowball of desire. The first initial shove that made them crash into each other, devouring the other with lust, all because you couldn’t keep your fingers out of your pussy.

And now, all Ghost could focus on was the need to have König pinning your hands above your head, trapping you. Giving you no room to leave, so Ghost could return the favour and devour you wholly.

His traumatic past couldn’t stop him from wanting to unleash his deeply seeded desire to fuck, to crave and taste and unleash his fated passions upon you.

“Fucking hell, you don’t fucking quit.” Ghost’s ire was vehement, his eyes stormy and dark. “Goddamn wanker!”

Soap held no more fear of Ghost than he did König, knowing that both his commanding officers were feeling the effects of their little soulmates late night excursions. The late night hours that had driven them crazy, has made the two men cantankerous, although Soap was more amused than not.

“We got leave soon, LT. Heard my little bird Em say your American spitfire is coming to visit for a few weeks.” Soap grinned in the way he usually did, like he had no real care in the world or any real-world consequences waiting for him.

John Soap McTavish was the kind of man most of them wished they could be. He still wasn’t jaded from what they saw, he wasn’t bitter and closed off. He had this natural youthfulness to him that had followed him all his life. He still had the ability to feel like a kid, like someone who wasn’t battered, bruised and dragged through hell.

Johnny was one of the lucky ones, one of the soldiers who had someone waiting for him at home when he went on leave. Johnny had someone who was writing him letters and caring for him with the intensity of a well-known lover. No matter what happened, Johnny had his wife to lean on.

Ghost was bitter, he was closed off and inflexible to love. Even when he was awarded two soulmates who could be everything he needed, he was still unable to see how he deserved them. In his mind, he was damned, and they were damned with him. He didn’t think he would ever feel free enough to endure such love.

“You got somewhere to go, Johnny.” Simon’s voice was less guarded now, more honest and natural. “Don’t take that for granted, don’t fuck it up!”

“You do too, LT!” Soap called back, nodding his head in Ghost’s direction as if to extend the invitation without having to say it.

Ghost was silent, he had revelled in the silence that stymied them both. He had endured the quiet and flexed his fingers around the hilt of his knife. He squeezed and let go, squeezed and let go, until he felt his resolve regaining itself.

There’s no where for a place like him; like them. They’re phantoms, shadows more than people now.

No you’re not, you never have been. Your voice countered his, and Ghost verbally hissed from the gentility. It was unwarranted, it was a direct attack on the shell he had surrounded himself with.

Damned fool, you’re gonna burn with us

We’re connected, whether you like it or not. You’re mine, I’m yours.

And you’re damned for it. You’re breakable, it’s inevitable. He was condescending, of himself and of König’s dependency on you, the three of you all meant to be twisted and broken together.

It was innate, it was their future.

What you want, we could never give you. We could never give you the future you want. Ghost’s voice went through your head, and König’s. We’re not meant for it. We’ll only break you.

It all felt like a step back, like he was land-sliding further from this new openness. You had broken off pieces of their guard, and Ghost in his fear of losing something real and true, again, was trying to shove it all back together.

You were silent, for a moment, and then your voice echoed in his head. Soft like a bell or whistle, yet with the ability to further crack that detrimental shell around his heart.

It's amazing how someone can break your heart, and you can still love them with all the little pieces.

Silence rang out, the bridge that bonded the three of you was silent.

And Ghost remained in that silence, his eyes staring ahead as he fixated his attention upon the wall of the helicopter. Transportation back to the States, back to that hellhole had begun, their task to track down that little worm was started.

You wouldn’t be an ocean away, you wouldn’t be across the world. You would be within his fingertips. And Ghost, irregardless of how hard he wanted to keep you at a distance, was drawn like a moth to a flame.

Damn him, damn himself to hell, he had to see you.

To spite himself.

To spite every damn bone in his body that hated you, that absolutely loathed you, he wanted and had to see you. It was innate, it was incredulous.

Simon Riley could’ve cursed you, he could have damned you with every breath. He didn’t need you, he didn’t want you, he had no use for you.

Yet, your ability to make the ice around the old soldiers heart chip away was beyond what he could control. If it were up to him, to Ghost, he would have frozen his heart in a cryogenic chamber away from yourself and König.

But damn you, damn you American woman with all he had in him, Simon Riley couldn’t turn off from you.

He was driven, by an unseen force, to find you. Despite the warring denial that they required you, that they wanted you, Ghost thought about Soap’s advice.

“You know you’re thinking about it. About seeing her. Trust me, LT...showing up to see her is exactly what you need.”

“Not happening, Johnny. We have a mission.”

Still, the thought was tempting.

Fuck, you better be around. His thick gravelly voice echoed in his own head, a thought shared with you as he let that shadowed and tiny piece of him have a small victory.

Regardless of how scared shitless, he was over letting that tiny little piece of hope win.

************

Simon Riley was not damaged, not like he had thought. Rather, he was traumatized from events of the past, and the cruel hands of fate handed to him.

You knew that, you had been warned of that, but you’d never fully understood to what extent he had hated any chance of happiness.

It was clear that of the two, Simon & König, König had been less physically damaged a than Simon.

You had seen more of König than you had of Simon. You’d seen more of his memories than Ghost had allowed you to see, with much of König’s thoughts and memories centred around his home life in Austria & Germany.

Not only that, but you’d seen the memories he had of his mother, the blood sweat and tears that she had shed for her little boy.

Young König, who wanted so desperately to go on school trips, leading his mother to prevent herself from eating food to save him money. She had done everything she could to give him the ability to go.

You had seen his memories and the bullying he suffered from being a poor boy who was bigger and taller than all his classmates. The kind of bullying that made König develop social anxiety that followed him all his life.

You saw his memories, and he had seen yours. He had seen your love of being on the water on a sandy, smooth beach and the crystal-like water that stretched for miles.

It was Devonshire Beach, someplace that had you had adored and craved to be at, a place where you were endlessly wishing to be at every chance you got.

You had been able to communicate your love for that place, the place where you were most comfortable and happiest. That place where you had longed to be day after day, week after week.

König had seen your memories of your short-term relationships that never gone anywhere for your fear of being taken too far emotionally into something that was doomed to fail.

You and König had created a new level of this bond; Ghost and yourself were still at a crawling point.

“I can’t wait for you to get here! Ugh, there are so many places I want to take you!” Em’s excitement bled through the phone as you’d pinned it between your ear and your shoulder.

“Three weeks in Scotland away from work, what a dream.” You were ragged, you were tired, and you wanted to go to bed.

Upon approaching your village townhouse, you dug your keys out from your scrub pockets, twirling them around your finger twice before you stepped up the porch.

Though it had been more than 12 hours since you left, you’d felt as if it were just seconds ago since you stepped outside for your shift.

Your keys were stuck in the lock, as usual. You jiggled the keys in the lock, grunting your irritation and annoyance, your ire for the damned thing.

Your frustration grew, and you’d just managed to turn the key to unlock the door when you heard audible footsteps behind you. You turned your head and cast your speculative gaze behind you, a squeaky shriek ripped from your lips.

“Y/N-” Johnny Soap McTavish was less than three feet behind you, with one half of your soulmates in tow.

Your immediate reaction was to strike him, your fist balled as tightly as you could manage, and you’d driven it into his shoulder. Though it hadn’t actually hurt him, Johnny still cursed under his breath and rubbed his arm. His blue eyes were narrowed, annoyed at you for striking him, and causing him minute pain.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! What are you doing here?!” You screeched at him, panic and fear rushing through you at the sudden appearance of them on your porch. “Do you have a death wish?! Do you know how many people have guns here?! You could have been shot!”

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” You were only aware of Em still talking when she raised her voice through the phone, reminding you that she could hear everything.

“You almost became a widow!” You struck Johnny again, anger coursing through your attack on your best friend's husband.

“Johnny! You didn’t shoot him did you?” She chirped with wonder, while you glared heavily at the two men.

“You got a minute?”

“You could’ve been shot, you idiot!” You struck Johnny again, only once being aware of Ghost’s eyes on you, and the striking blue eyes alight with amusement.

Strike him again, love

“You—!” Your eyes darted from Johnny to Ghost, your soulmate looking deadly and intimidating, like a demon at night.

He had stood behind Johnny, wearing that familiar skeleton mask and the black eye paint around his eyes.

He was dressed head to toe in black tactical gear, starting with a thick Kevlar vest and a balaclava beneath the mask. He hadn’t gotten rid of his weapons, not a single one, but rather he had kept them on to give himself a more intimidating appearance.

Honestly, despite his aggressive look, having Ghost appear on your doorstep wasn’t even close to the most negating experience of your night. Despite his intense distaste that he seemed to have for you, seeing him here was almost relieving. It had almost heartening to see him, to have him this close.

Even if he would rather not adhere to this bond, you were happy to see him again. Regardless of how they scared the shit out of you, having Ghost here was almost exhilarating.

Being in the presence of your soulmate, irregardless of his feelings for you, was affecting you almost as intensely as it had the night you met them.

“What,” your voice had taken a hard edge, your eyes narrowing in on them, “are you doing here?!”

Johnny grinned, boyishly, in a manner that made you irritated. His natural penchant to be a man riddled with good-natured humour, and humour at others expense, had been vexing to say the least. But no more than his ability to also make you forget your qualms with a man like him.

Johnny would have been a good friend, but you couldn’t have handled someone like him continually trying to get under your skin.

“I guess we need another favour.” Johnny’s voice first caught your attention; however, it was Ghost that had kept it.

Another look at him, and another remembrance of his size, was yet again capable of producing a sort of enchantment that took hold of you. He was at least 6’4” if not 6’5” and seeing him in person, for only the second time, had reiterated your feeling of being a sprout compared to him.

Between Ghost & König, you felt like a little sprite, a little gaiety creature surrounded by giants and beasts. Hell, even compared to Johnny, you felt short.

“Ghost.” You spoke his code name, far more airily than you wanted to.

You were captivated by him, and his aggressive nature. He was your soulmate despite denying you and attempting to push you away, and want was only natural. The desire to be around each other, to hear each others voice and grow deeper connected, was only natural.

Fate was not to be ignored, fate was not going to let any of you, not the three of you, part from the other. You were, and always would be, connected and bound together.

You were watching Ghost, and he was watching you, his chin tucked ever so slightly. His eyes had narrowed, minimally, and his fingers flexed around the gun he held in his hands. The tension between you was skyrocketing, thick and heavy, and bubbling over with desire and mutual need.

“You want some privacy-“ you struck Johnny again, as hard as you could with everything you could.

“Y/N! Did you kill my husband?!” Em’s voice was far more panicked than before, concern for her husband's well-being at your hand was not understated.

“Not yet.” You reassured her, though you felt tempted by the idea of murdering her husband. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“We had to deal with something—“ Johnny trailed off, ending the half-sentence abruptly. You thought it had been the end of it, and then you heard him speaking again. “Gonna let us in, love?”

“You don’t call me that.” You grit your teeth and bend down to gather your thrown items, ultimately standing and bundling them in your arms. “Why are you here? Didn’t think they allowed stop-offs when you’re doing the military’s work.”

“Got a job, went sideways. We only have an hour, two at max. Can we come in?”

Your eyes had been caught by Ghosts’ again, and your heart racing. There was such a draw to him, beyond the fear and the apprehension, you just wanted to be around him.

“You wanna come in?” Your question was aimed at Johnny, but looked at Ghost, and then turned back. “Your cut looks good, healed okay. You have another?”

“Not me. Got time?” Johnny’s grin seemed permanently affixed to his face, another layer to the charming Scotsman.

“I do now.” You mumbled under your breath and turned back to your door, opening for the three of you.

“If you murder me...” you looked back at Johnny, your stomach flipping end over end. “... I’ll haunt you.”

“So paranoid, lass.” Johnny’s retort was airy, and he was clearly amused, though you hadn’t seen the humour in it at all.

“Are you allowed to be here? Aren’t you on a time constraint?” You questioned them both as you stepped inside and waved them in.

There was hesitancy on both, parties, neither of them immediately wanting to step into your house.

Though Johnny was more receptive to coming in, even he had waited a moment before he stepped over the threshold and entered your place. As he had, you dropped your bag down onto your floor and kicked off your shoes. You flicked on the light switch and cast another look back at the two of them.

Both were wearing tactical gear, although Ghost seemed to have more, and while you could see the flag of their respective home countries on each of their uniforms, you were drawn to the UK flag on Simon’s.

“You can come in, maybe explain why you thought it was okay to give me a heart attack.” Your invitation was both ambiguous and intimate, depending on the two men who heard it.

Johnny had spared no effort to step into your townhouse, almost needing to step sideways with his gear; however, Ghost hadn’t been so eager. He stood on the other side of the door, staring you down with piercing blue eyes that struck deep into your soul.

And as you got a better look at both of them, you noticed the distinguishable sight of blood. Soap had seemed to be better off than not, with the man only receiving specks of the hemoglobin on his arms and forehead; however, it seemed like Ghost had a gash on his arm.

It didn’t look deep, but it was open, and it needs to be taken care of.

You didn’t want to know the details of how it happened, you didn’t think you could stomach the idea of it; however, you knew it must’ve been a sporadic event. His sleeve was ripped, torn or cut to find the wound, and there was already dried blood around his gash.

“Shit.” You winced at the sight of it, knowing that this was the explanation for their sudden appearance at your house. “You need that looked at, and it needs to be sewn.”

“Thought we should make a house call. Em gave me your address.” Johnny set the rifle in his hands down, much like Ghost had, and started undoing the Velcro straps of his Kevlar vest.

It is unclear to you why you didn’t notice before, why you hadn’t seen the wound on his arm and the missing portion of his sleeve, but now that you had, you knew you needed to fix it.

You didn’t need details, you hadn’t wanted details, and even if you had, you doubted they would tell you. Or at the very least fabricate a lie like Em.

That’s what you expected, that’s what you had anticipated, however you were once again surprised when Ghost had stepped forward toward your couch, littered with folded clothes you had forgotten about, and spoke with a gruff thick accent.

“Dealing with leftover shit, damned bastard set traps.” His gruff British accent had a surreal affect on you, the visible tremble of your hands and the definite acknowledgment of how attractive you’d found it, mentally at least.

It came naturally to your mind, and settled into your thoughts warmly.

An innate desire to hear it again, whispering the same kind of sexually fuelled words that had been uttered on the night that you had gone out drinking. It had been a turn on for you that night, the uttered sounds fuelling your need to find self-pleasure, and that had been shared with the two of them.

And you’d just as easily found yourself captivated by his thick British accent, and König’s German one.

“I have a habit of asking doctors for extra supplies just in case. I have surgical thread, I can sew it up.” You spoke quickly.

You were far more anxious being in your house with these two men, one being your soulmate, than you were in the hospital room with a crowd of them.

There, you felt standoffish.

Here, it felt intimate.

“I’ll just...” you glanced at the folded clothes, thanking your self-preservation for hiding your underwear in stacks of scrubs instead of keeping them out.

Still, you’d felt momentarily embarrassed by the state of your clothes folded and left out, and you’d quickly picked them up and set them back in the basket.

You’d wanted to put them away before you’d gone to work and never had the chance, your morning starting chaotically by your phone alarms failing.

“I’ll be right back. Umm...sit, make yourselves....just sit.” You turned away from them and headed toward the stairs, grabbing hold of the railings. You held onto both as you climbed the steps to the bathroom, stepping inside and opening the cupboard to the left.

You grabbed your first aid kit from the bottom shelf and tucked it under your arm, using your free hand to grab the antiseptic and gauze. With everything you needed, you headed back downstairs and to the living room, side-eyeing the two of them as they were in very different positions.

While Johnny was unceremoniously draped across one of your second hand armchairs, Ghost was standing near the couch, however he wasn’t sitting. He was staring dead on at a picture of you when you were younger that was taken at your favourite spot in the world.

Devonshire Beach was at the cusp of a massive lake, one that stretched for miles upon miles. The water was warm and relatively clear, with a sandy bottom. The lake had remained shallow enough to touch the bottom for what seemed like a mile before your feet wouldn’t reach, and the soft sand had continued well onto the shoreline.

In the picture you were seven or eight, covered in wet sand with a wide grin on your face and the sun at your back. You had just come out of the water after spending all day at the shoreline, and in the water, and there was no shortage of happy weeks there.

Devonshire Beach was one of the only times and places you’d actually enjoyed being in your dad’s presence. Every other time, you’d found ire for the man who would rather spend time with his girlfriend than his child.

But when he took you to Devonshire Beach, and let you run wild, you were truly happy. When you were in that water, on that beach, your father's indiscretions didn’t matter. You had the water, you had the sand, and you had the endless lake to spend your time in.

“That’s my favourite place in the whole world. I spent weeks there every summer when it was my dads turn to take me.” You set the first aid kit on the coffee table, talking to both of them, but mostly Ghost, as he had looked at your picture.

“I try to go back once a summer for a few weeks. Honestly, if I could live there, I would.” Your small conversation attempt with the roguish soldier was one-sided though you knew he, and König, acknowledged what you said and thought, when you felt that flourish of warmth in your body.

You thought of it, of the lake and the beach that you loved. The untouched source of happiness you experienced with your divorced father, and the soft glow of the sun. You were sharing that memory with them, all while Ghost was studying the coutures on your walls and Johnny looked like he was sleeping.

“I have the first aid kit, I can fix your arm.” You broke the silence and drew his attention away from the pictures on your wall, back to yourself.

His eyes had been striking, impossibly bright against the dark around his eyes and the bleached skeleton mask. He had turned further to face you, only taking two long strides to the couch, and sitting down almost silently.

“This might hurt,” you reached into the first aid kit for the kit of needles you had, as well as the gauze and wipes, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Ghost was silent but observant.

He had extended his arm to allow you access to the gash, and a better look at the tattoos he had on his arm. You had taken a brief look at the ink marking his skin, the story of each tattoo simultaneously cohesive and almost.

Although you knew there was some meaning to them, to him, you weren’t going to ask.

“I’m sorry if this hurts.” You apologized prematurely and dabbed the antiseptic wipe against the edge of the wound first, watching him carefully for any indication that it hurt.

“Does this feel okay? Does it hurt? Am I hurting you?” His answer, predictably, came through your mind.

Doesn’t scratch the surface, love

“I don’t have any numbing gel or cream, so this might hurt more—“ you were cut off, rather abruptly, by his thick accent verbalizing his state of mind.

“I’ve been through hell, this is nothing.” His blue eyes bore into your own, and there was a cathartic minute where your gazes had been locked on each others.

Heat, intense and deep, had struck you like lightning. It was powerful and all encompassing, an internal combustion that was directly rooted in your fated bond.

Soulmates intertwined with each other in every captivating way.

Eventually, you dropped your gaze and finished cleaning the gash on his arm.

You had exchanged the antiseptic wipes for the surgical thread you’d taken from one of the doctors there. While there was no trauma bay, nor really, or any surgery rooms, a few of the doctors that worked there also worked in the city.

And they had known you wanted to stock up on your own miniature medical stash at your place. All it took was a conversation, a simple favour the next time they were in the city hospital, and at least one would try to abide by your request.

As you threaded the needle, you hummed a song under your breath. You worked quickly to tie and cut off the excess, only to hesitate before you made the first mark.

“You’ll tell me if it hurts, right?” Your concerns for him, about hurting him, were high. You hated the idea of not having some numbing cream or gel, and without freezing it could be incredibly painful.

With his silence, you had started the process of stitching his wound, weaving the needle and the medical thread in and out of his skin to close it again. You worked in silence under the weight of his icy gaze, a slight tremble to your hands as you worked.

You hadn’t been this close to him in months, not since you’d first met him, and he was intimidating. He was built like a mountain, with his height and weight relative to his thick size and strength. He could easily kill you with his hands, and everything else about him was just as pertinent to terrifying anyone he came across.

“Are you okay?” You questioned Simon again, doubling down on your insistence that you hadn’t wanted to hurt him. “Simon..?”

You sat up on your haunches and reached for his mask, fingertips grazing the hard shell before he stopped you. His hand snatched your wrist and squeezed enough to make you startle. His eyes narrowed, and though you couldn’t see his mouth, you figured he might have been scowling at you.

In exchange, you had tried to tug your wrist away, stumbling forward as he held you firm. He had leaned down, drawing himself closer and allowing you to see the darker flecks in his blue eyes.

“I never take my mask off.”

“I’m sorry!” Your voice was tight, squeaking almost. “I won’t touch it again.”

Johnny, to his credit, had noticed the shift in tension and flipped himself right, placing his boots on the ground. His own wondering gaze had flitted between the two of you, and his lips had become pursed.

“Y’okay, Y/N?” There was a protectiveness, a kind that would be present between a brother and sister.

“I’m fine. I’m almost finished.” Your hands shook, and you felt real fear, real apprehension. You worked as quickly as you could, tying off the rest of the stitches and giving it a final wipe with antiseptic.

When you were done, you threw everything back in the first aid kit and zipped it shut, hastily returning it back to the bathroom.

You’d almost hoped they’d have been gone by the time you returned, both were still present however they were getting ready to leave. You shuffled into the living room, still on the edge of fear, with your heart racing.

“The stitches need to stay in for 4–14 days, depending on how fast you heal. You could cut them yourself, but if you have a medic or doctor on your...base or wherever—“

“Thanks, Y/N. You’ve said our asses twice now.” Johnny had finished securing his Kevlar vest, and the Velcro that kept it in on place, and then he picked up his gun. “Three weeks in Scotland, yeah?”

“Mandatory time off. I haven’t used my vacation hours and they won’t give me anymore.” You explained softly, not being able to look at Ghost for longer than a few seconds. “Plus it's been almost 4 years since I’ve seen Emilia.”

“You mean for more than 12 hours.” Johnny added, stretching his arms above his head. “She’s excited for ya, been talking nonstop about you and her going out for your birthday.”

I forgot about that, your thoughts betrayed you, 25 in two weeks

Birthday? When is your birthday, schätzchen? König’s voice had crackled in your mind, his question softened.

“Apparently 25 is a big deal.” You furrowed your brows and crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t celebrate my birthday usually.”

“Please for the love of God, humour my wife.”

Johnny practically begged, teasing her endearingly. “Let her take you out.”

“Mhmm.” You nodded and hummed, watching Johnny leave your house first, stepping forward to clsoe the door behind them. “I promise I’ll let her drag me out.”

“I love my wife, I’d die for her, but sometimes...” Johnny grinned, only minutely serious, and then he glanced back at Ghost. “LT...?”

You watched him standing just outside the doorway, his eyes once again boring into yours. As you stepped forward to close the door, one solid hand had pushed you back against the doorframe, and another cupped your chin.

His hand was large, fingers partially obscured by gloves that were cut off at his first knuckles. He had stepped close to you, trapping you between his body and your door. With one hand cupping your chin and his unrelenting eyes keeping your gaze hostage, you were breathlessly waiting for...something.

Tension was climbing, and it felt as if everything else surrounding you had become dull and stagnant. You couldn’t tear your eyes off him, you were unable to stop your heart from beating wildly.

Slowly he leaned in, closer and closer until his voice was nothing more than a whisper to you.

“Shouldn’t have scared ya, love.” It was as apologetic as you imagined he could get. “Fixed me good.”

“Don’t....get shot or anything. At least not before you get to an actual doctor.” A dry, humourless sound was heard between you, and then his hand tightened on your chin.

“LT! We gotta go!” Johnny called out from the front steps of your place, urging Ghost to leave.

Another moment, brief as it was, and then he pulled away. “Have a good night, love.”

He stepped away from the front door, watching you with intensity until you closed the door behind them and switched the lock.

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[ddeck]

not to throw blasphemous accusations at those crumbs of trans representation we have but im lowkey getting tired of how many non-binary gender identities are portrayed by shapeshifters, aliens, ancient gods, robots and all other explicitly non-human characters

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

I know this is random but reading your blog and seeing your art made me so motivated I made my 1st animation ever (not counting pixel art ones), after not drawing digitally in months and it looks kinda basic and it isn't colored but I made it and I'm really happy with it so I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you for motivating me to make digital art again! I hope you have a wonderful day/night :)

MKJSJWJW HI!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TELLING ME THATS GREAT!!! Animatics need time and patience so the fact you went straight for it is so cool!!!! I bet it looks lovely!

Hope you have the greatest day/night too!

[icy-book]

Shout out to everyone who decided that Taylor's sword cane means he had chronic pain and mobility issues, rather than him just being a dumbass able-bodied teen like Freddie was

[mrnnki-img]

[mekatrio]

JOKING this is very 🥹

[thetruearchmagos]

Have been struck with ideas about post-Chainbreaker War Art in Upepwani / Swatili, and they are not letting ago.

Also, Gustav being an absolute fucking nerd about all of it, because I love my nerdy boi

[giddygreengalaxy]

I dont think I'm disabled, I think the world just can't tame me.

Wasn't Jesus the same?

[flesheatingmoth]

heidi makes me so fucking sad

[illdothehotvoice]

This your new Luigi mechanic?

[imaginedreamwrite]

Entirely Unconventional

Part 11: A Small Conversation & A Long Trip

The weight of his hand on your chin, the warmth, and strength of his hand has lingered well into the following hours and days. The firm grip he had on you, the illustrious way he had pushed you back against the door frame and held you there, it had changed something in you.

You felt like Mr. Darcy flexing his fingers as he walked away from his great love, Elizabeth Bennet. A single touch, a single grasp and you were left breathless without the ability to speak. You felt so enraptured by a single touch that it had lingered there in the back of your mind. Likewise, you had been brought to a new and invigorating place in this whole bond that fate had made for the three of you.

That single clutch of your chin had been flush and overrun with thick tension, both sexual and emotional. The ties and bonds that held the three of you together had grown, they had become stronger and more impenetrable.

That single moment, where he had trapped you against him and the doorway, had unlocked something. It was a moment where you had first truly acknowledged his size and how massive he was compared to you.

Even without his tactical gear on that added depth and increased mass, he was broad chested with staggering height, alluding to his place as a man who could strike fear with the smallest measure. Even without the weaponry attached, he was a deadly force.

However, once had added that gear, the Kevlar vest with holsters for his different weapons, and whatever other tools he had taken with him, he had become even more of a force to be reckoned with. He was deadly, like the rest of his soldiers, and yet if you had seen both Ghost and Johnny on the street without knowing them, only Ghost’s appearance could have really sent you to the grave. There was something about him that would have just struck fear into the deepest part of you, if you had seen him without knowing him prior.

Although even knowing him as your soulmate and knowing him now, you were starkly reminded of Em’s warning. They were war criminals, they had killed people, they had done things neither of you could have imagined. Their lives as soldiers were nothing compared to the fairytales about knights in shining armour.

They had taken lives, they had shed blood. Regardless of how indispensable you and Em were to Johnny, Konig and Simon, they were inherently not good people.

They’re not good people, but they’re good men. In the right context. Em’s voice was a reminder, a steady hand of sorts to remind you that being paired with men like this was a struggle in its own. Even Johnny, as good as he seemed, was not without his demons.

And Simon Riley, Konig, they had more than you knew.

Regardless of that warning, of that siren in the back of your mind that warned you how dangerous, and deadly they could be, you were still affected heavily by them. They had awakened something inside of you, some kind of deeply seeded desire that you’d never felt before. None of which had been more apparent than when he had pushed you against the doorframe and held your chin.

A single grasp, an indelible stain that would remain on you forever. That is what he had done to you, that was Ghost’s mark. That was what he had left you with, when he was gone with Johnny, he had left you his inerasable mark.

That was all you could think of when you had started your last shift before your three-week vacation. With that feeling, phantom warmth as it was, on your flesh, you had allotted much of your thoughts and mental space to how that had felt. It was increasingly evident that you were losing yourself to your soulmates. And it felt damn good.

It was all you could think of, on that last night. You had worked well through to the last quarter without incident or rising occasion from your soulmates until your final break. Despite you thinking of the way his hand felt, or how Konig’s voice was comforting to you, they were relatively quiet.

They had remained observant but silent, allowing you some relative peace. Whether that was to spare you grisly details of what they may have been doing, or whether it was to give you some peace as you worked, it was quiet.

However, as you were counting down the last few minutes before your last break, your expectations of solitude had been squandered. You were behind the desk finishing up the last few notes of a chart you were working on when the phone rang to your left. Like usual, you picked up the receiver and tucked it between your shoulder and your ear, speaking in a clear and concise manner.

“Harkrow county hospital, just letting you know there’s no doctor tonight. If this is an emergency, you need to head to the city hospital-“

“Schatz!” The German accent had completely caught you off guard, the sudden sound of his voice through the speaker of the phone, crackling as it was, was surprising.

“Konig? What…how did you get this number?” You sat up in your chair and dropped your pen to the chart you’d been working on, your eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you calling the hospital? Are you here?”

“Ahh, nein.” He spoke again, softly and quietly. “I am…somewhere else.”

“Okay? How did you get this number?” There was an increasingly distracting noise in the background, one that you couldn’t place; however, it hadn’t been any more irritating than the crackle of the phone itself.

“Sergeant MacTavish gave it to me.” He spoke as if it were the most natural explanation in the world, despite leaving gaps in the narrative he was trying to spell.

“I don’t want to know.” A sigh fell from your lips, and in a moment you’d turned your back to the another nurse charting a few feet away, attempting to give you more privacy. “This isn’t…you shouldn’t really call this number from long distance. Do you…want my cellphone number?”

“Ja, ja.” His voice, still soft as he spoke through the phone, was almost drowned out by another raucous background mess. “Ich möchte mit dir reden, deine Stimme nicht in meinem Kopf hören.”

“Okay, well, I don’t know what that means, but I’ll give you my number. You can’t really call this number.” You picked up your pen again, tapping the pusher against the top-right corner of the chart. As you gave him your number, your body had become alight with warmth that radiated throughout your entire body, and your heart had begun fluttering.

“I have a break in…five minutes. If you want to talk immediately, you have to wait—“ The phone dashboard had lit up with another call coming in, and you’d turned yourself back to face the front of the desk more head on. “I have to take another call, I’ll—“

“Five minutes, schatz.” The conversation went dead, and you’d set the receiver down, almost immediately picking it back up again to give the same spiel you’d given Konig.

With that phone call concluded and your ability to head on your break, you’d left the front of the hospital for the staff room, entering the softly lit room and immediately heading toward your locker. You’d turned the dial for the combination lock and yanked open the door, your eyes glancing over your items before you reached in.

You dug through your locker for your packed nightly snacks and your phone, intending to enjoy your last break before your shift was over. Tonight had seemed to be balls to the walls, overloaded with patients, which would’ve been a rarity for the hospital. Although, the warmer fall days had meant the rise of bush parties, and bush parties led to more than a few drunken accidents. You’d worked half through your shift without feeling the effects of drunk high-schooler’s, before one particularly drunk girl had vomited down the front of your scrubs.

That incident had made your skin crawl, having another person’s emesis down the front of your shirt. As soon as you could change, you’d ripped off your scrubs and threw on the hospital spares, tossing yours into a patient item bag only to kick them aside and hope they didn’t get worse for wear.

And it was that sole incident had made you eager for your vacation, for three weeks off. You intended to head right to the airport after you finished your shift, you’d already been packed with everything you needed to go for three weeks. Your flight was four hours after you were done, and that would give you enough time to drive to the city, get through security and potentially get something to eat if you were hungry again.

Sleep, you decided, was reserved for the flight.

After you’d grabbed your last packed sustenances for the night, you’d taken a table at the back of the staff room and settled yourself into the rigid chairs. You set your bag of pretzels on the table, yanking open the bag and grabbing one of the twisted pieces, biting off the top half. You’d been halfway through chewing when your phone rang, an international number you hadn’t recognized flashing on your screen, and with the expectation that it was Konig, you answered.

“Hallo, schatz!” His voice was much clearer now, much less restrained by the background noise of the crackle of the hospital phone. His voice, soft like the first time he had called, had elicited a shiver that ran down your spine, pleasant as it was.

“Did Johnny really give you the hospital’s number?” you questioned him, finishing eating one pretzel before grabbing another. “I’m surprised he didn’t get it from Em.”

You were, cathartically, being affected by the two of them in completely opposite ways. With your mind still reeling from Simon pushing you against the wall and cupping your chin, to the sound of Konig’s voice obviously having a visceral effect on you, you were thrown for an indescribable loop.

“Your mind is busy tonight, ja? Is it...how do you say balls to the...walls?” A laugh had built in your throat, and you’d immediately felt it falling from your lips, your thoughts now centred around the giant Austrian and his attempt at using American slang.

“Sure, you could say that.” Your lips had been tugged into a small grin, one that was a product of your amusing thoughts. “Balls to the walls.”

“Forgive me, schatz. I am not..the best with English. German is my native language.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you say balls to the walls in German?” Your attempt at teasing the giant had gone relatively unexpected, seeing as he had immediately answered.

“Bälle an die Wände.” His voice carried through the phone, and after he had uttered the same phrase in German, you found yourself repeating it.

“Ahh, your German is...terrible schatzen.” With no attempt at softening the insult to your ability to speak German, he had followed it with a husky laugh.

“Not many Germans here,” you rolled your eyes, feigning contempt despite your smile widening, “I speak English and Spanish. I’d like to hear you speak Spanish with your German accent.”

“Nein.” He denied you, and with his denial had come another flutter of warmth radiating throughout your body. “You are...flying ja?”

“After my shift, I’m driving to the city and heading right to the airport. My flight is four hours after my shift ends.”

“No sleep? What if you fall asleep driving?”

“I’ll sleep on the plane.” You shifted on your hard plastic chair, switching the phone from one hand to the other to rub your hand down your face. “Where were you earlier? When you first called me?”

“Ahh, tut mir leid, Schatz.” His answer was half German, half English. “That is confidential.”

“Right, comes with the whole...territory of being a member of a private military.” You clicked your tongue against your teeth, a moment of silence passing between you before had spoken again.

This time there was an edge to his voice, as if he was irritated or even vexed at something on his end. You could only wonder what could have made the giant Austrian soldier irritated enough to mutter in German; however, you weren’t really given the chance to ask.

“Sorry Schatz.” He apologized, that edge still there. “I have...things to—“

The staff room door was slammed open, and one of the student nurses had entered the room looking panicked. Her eyes had grown wide, and she looked as if she had seen something she couldn’t unsee.

“I have to go.” You ended the call and stood, stepping out from between the table and the chair, slipping your phone into your pocket. As you followed the student nurse out of the staff room, you had felt, and heard, Simon’s voice.

Johnny! What the fuck?! It was an internal thought, one that had slipped Simon’s control, and you’d felt yourself cracking a grin again.

****************

You were exhausted, drained really. The last quarter of your shift was, like Konig had said, balls to the walls. And the incident that had made the student nurse lose her shit, was almost too much for you to handle. The patient that had come in, stunning the student nurse, had been drunk and decided he wanted to screw around with a knife playing five finger fillet.

The blood was not the entire issue, it was the way that he had decided to patch himself up with superglue and duct tape that had done it. The mess he made of his flesh, of his fingertips, had been quite the state. And you couldn’t wait any longer to get on a plane and head to Scotland.

Three weeks. A break from the hospital, and a chance to find your breath again. It was all you needed.

You had only really relaxed after the plane had taken off and you were well on your way. It was official now that the plane was on the flight path to Glasgow International Airport, a kind of ease settling over you. And with a request for a blanket from a flight attendant, you’d gotten yourself comfortable enough to close your eyes and try to sleep.

Although you were tired, your were exhausted, sleep hadn’t come as easily as you had anticipated. Rather than falling into slumber like you were expecting, your mind was plagued by a sudden rush of inescapable heat that surged through you. With the intensity that you’d first felt when you met Simon Riley and Konig, you had been unable to ground yourself into the necessary state of calm that would allow you to rest.

It was innate, the heat that made your eyes open wide and your lips become parted. And after a moment later you had known exactly what was happening.

Although they were not allowing you to see what was going on, like you had allowed them, you knew that something had snapped with the two of them. Regardless of what it was or what they were doing, there was some level of intimacy between the two.

You imagined, that given the trauma they both felt, this was a moment of extreme need and passion. Although you held doubts that it was a full bore sexual moment where they fell into each other, they were experiencing some kind of intimacy though it was not fuelled by love.

No, this was need. Raw and desperate.

Your breath came out shakily, you had shifted in your seat, keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around you. You weren’t given the ability to see what was going on in your mind, and you suspected that it was Simon’s self-preservation at play. He had found himself in a state that was impossible to forgo, and he had to bend a little.

Buckling with Konig, the moment was driven by that inescapable bond that fate had made. Love was not present, yet, but want and need had surfaced. This moment between them had carried the same weight and force as as yours had, the night that you had let yourself go with self-pleasure.

You were as affected by them as they were you, and being surrounded by other passengers on the plane had done you no favours. You couldn’t simply get up and head to the bathroom, not when you felt like the moment you would stand your legs would give out. No, you were stuck in your seat, helpless with no other hope or possibility to cope, other than causing friction by rubbing your thighs together.

The band had broke, a sharp snap and your body had been figuratively set on fire.

Your breathing had become ragged, heart racing with an intensity that had made you self-concerned. You had negated moving, instead you stared out the airplane window with wide eyes and your teeth biting down on the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood.

You stayed rigid until the heat dissipated and your head was clear. Once you had felt cooled off enough to function, you shifted positions and curled into yourself. The blanket was still tightly wound around your body, and an unnatural exhaustion had come upon you.

Your eyed fluttered closed, your breathing had started to even out as sleep that you desperately needed had finally found you. Sleep came naturally, it had been ushered in a relatively calm state in your mind, one that followed all that desperate hunger and expulsion of some kind of tension.

After restlessness that had been provoked by your two soulmates, you had finally been able to sleep. You had been able to settle into sleep, and you had only woken up hours later by a set of gentle mental prods from Simon. Your eyes had opened and you were momentarily unaware of where you were, and given a glance at the flight schedule on the screen in front of your seat, you only had four hours of you light left.

Simon had pushed again, he had settled himself into the forefront of your mind to slowly reveal pieces of himself.

He had shown you slivers, nothing from his past but mostly from his present. The loyalty he had sworn to his other soldiers, the members of this specific squad he was on. He had shown you little of what he had done, the menial task of checking over his guns and cleaning the weapons he used to both protect and destroy the innocent and enemy alike.

It was playing in your head like a reel, and while it wasn’t anything that had alluded to the trauma Emilia said he has suffered, it was a step. He had given you little, protected insight, to the process of cleaning his rifle or checking his ammunition. He had allowed you to see the small parts of him that weren’t innately personal.

A crack in the door, a sliver of trust. Don’t make me regret it, love

Your heart raced, because of both of them. Your heart thrashed and you felt your palms becoming sweaty, as if they were right here beside you watching you. You shivered, tightening the blanket around your shoulders as you looked back at the screen, the plane getting closer and closer to Scotland.

And then, you felt your own desire building.

You wanted to see them, both of them, at some point while you were there.

[wonder-worker]

"It is too easy to dismiss [Leonor of Navarre] as an overambitious schemer who would do anything to obtain a crown, shedding the blood of her own siblings and her subjects in order to attain the throne. However, a deeper investigation of her long lieutenancy and ephemeral reign shows a woman who fought tenaciously to preserve her place but also worked tirelessly to administer a realm which was crippled by internal conflict and the center of the political schemes of France, Aragon, and Castile. She tried to broker peace, fight off those who opposed her, repair the wounds caused by conflict, protect the sovereignty of the realm, and keep the wheels of governance turning. Leonor was not always successful in achieving all of these aims but given the background of conflict and the lack of cooperation she received from all of her family members, bar her loyal husband, it is a huge achievement that she survived to wear the crown at all. Many writers have argued that Leonor deserved the troubled lieutenancy, personal tragedies, an ephemeral reign, and a blackened reputation, basing their assumption that she committed a crime that cannot be [conclusively] proven. However, a more fitting description of her would be that of a resolute ruler who successfully overcame a multitude of challenges in order to survive in a difficult political landscape and gain a hard-fought throne.”

-Elena Woodacre, "Leonor of Navarre: The Price of Ambition", Queenship, Gender and Reputation in the Medieval and Early Modern West, 1060-1600 (Edited by Zita Eva Rohr and Lisa Benz)

[nadiaerre]

“Some birds can’t be caged. We’re on borrowed time… Our sins catch up to us all eventually. While you were kidnapped, I walked in your shoes: I sat in the FBI, felt the camaraderie. It’s compelling. It’s also an illusion.”

[helenofblackthorns]

not only does she hail from Brooklyn, she's also the great great great granddaughter of the first female Cousul & the guy who invent sensors & portals so. checkmate. also clary went straight for the jugular damn 💀

[mrschwartz]

glenn the walking dead is one of the world's most special little blorbos