#I know a lot of people didn't understand the importance of the chair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kasagia · 6 months

Text

❄️️Warm my heart pt. 5❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: You're getting closer, closer, closer and closer... and noticed. Word Count: 3,2k Taglist:@aoi-targaryen @budugu @flostvs1508 ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova’s Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 4 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 6 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Something funny?" his question pulls you out of the letter. You glance at him briefly, slowly fold the letter, and put it in your pocket, still smiling.

"Nothing special. Can we return to further discussion?" you ask as he sits down in front of you and places two glasses of kvass on the table.

You didn't talk about… that night. Or previous events. There was a consensual silence between you regarding those events. A silence that was anything but peaceful. It was more like before the storm. But you both chose to ignore it. You had more important things on your mind.

"There is no need. I've already told you. Tracker and some of our people are going to haunt the stag until we won't get the bones. End of discussion."

"But it's Christmas. Is this stag that important? You don't have to send after this poor animal almost 30 of our people." you try to convince him, but he only rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"Y/N. I appreciate your opinion, but no one and nothing will change my mind. Not you, not Alina, not Zoya, not any women, do you understand?"

"Why didn't you mention Ivan or Fedyor, or any men?" you ask, crossing your arms, now as irritated as he was just a few seconds ago.

"Because they know too well to try to oppose me."

"Oppose you?" you huff, glaring at him defiantly. "With all due respect, you don't know what it's like when someone REALLY tries to oppose you. At least not in the last month." you see him take a breath to say something, but one look from him at you makes him change his mind and shake his head. He takes the glass and drinks it before deciding to answer you.

"Can we... can we just go back to read those reports and finally write the orders to units? Please." he asks. You sigh and take your pen in hand, continuing to write down on the paper, in a more logical way, notes containing some of your plans.

"If you insist." you mumble over the paper.

"No whining?" he asks in shock and you bite your lip to avoid saying something rude.

"No." you say, shaking your head and reaching for a glass of kvass.

"And you're not offended?"

"Since when do you care?" you snap at him, annoyed. Not only did he stupidly stick to his opinion, but he also made you look like an offensive brat.

"Y/N." he says it calmly, and you raise your gaze to him. He didn't seem like he was doing it maliciously, more like he was making sure everything was okay. Which only added to your irritation. You close your eyes and sigh before answering him.

"No. I'm not."

"Your tone of voice is telling me something entirely different." you narrow your eyes at him and he just shrugs his arms.

"Should I smile at you sweetly to make you sure about that?" you ask teasingly, and he nods, leaving you surprised.

"Yes, please." he says, wanting to see you smiling at him at all costs. He missed this view. You both had a lot on your minds lately, and dark circles under your eyes were starting to appear under your eyes as well as under his own. And he despised them terribly. He smiles, though, feeling a strange warmth dissipate in his chest as you giggle in amusement and give him a mischievous smile. "That's better." he mumbles, shifting his gaze to the papers.

He can't feel like this. He shouldn't want... you. Not after what he went through last time.

And after that night, where he almost gave in to his desires, he promised himself that you wouldn't be his second Luda. You'll end up better than her. He won't let anything happen to you because of him.

"You know... I got something for you." you say, snapping him from his thoughts.

"For me? On what occasion?" he asks, surprised, shifting in his chair. He dropped the papers on the desk and focused his attention on you as you nervously stroked the edges of the report, straightening the corners.

"When I was a child, we used to draw lots a few weeks before Christmas to choose a family member to give a gift to. You know, a small present before the big one. And since I spent half of December fighting for my life with a fever and swimming in frozen rivers, I didn't have time to give it to you earlier."

"Why did you..."

"We drew lots for whom we would buy a gift." you interrupt him before he has a chance to ask you a question. "Me, Fedyor, Alina, Mal, Zoya, even Ivan, and the rest. I had Mal, but since you decided to send him to hell knows where, I figured I might as well give you something."

"Whatever bribe you want to give me, tracker and others don't come back without a stag." he says, crossing his arms. You giggle softly at that.

"I'm fully aware, donkey."

"You're treading on thin ice." he says menacingly, but he can't help but tilt his lips upward slightly in kind of a small smile.

"It's good that you're close; maybe you'll save me again. Come on. Just open it. I promise, I didn't ask David to put any explosives in there." he rolls his eyes but takes the box from you that you left under his desk. He turns the small box over in his hand and shakes it gently, assessing the size and heaviness of the gift. "Are you really expecting a terrorist attack? From me?"

"You stabbed me with a letter opener."

"That was ages ago!" you shout, offended and blushing. "Besides, how was I supposed to know you'd just walk into the war room and stand behind me?!"

"Who normally throws a letter opener behind them?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. He slowly begins to unwrap the box.

"It was from my grandparents. You know how we get along. Besides, I've apologised to you a thousand times."

"And apparently my mental health has been damaged, and now I can't trust you around with any weapon or mistery presents." he teases; you whine at this, and he starts laughing. You smile at the sound and shake your head.

Suddenly, he stops laughing. He holds on to his breath as he carefully examines your gift. It's not a big thing. A simple, black pendant. What is more important is its content, which he stares at in amazement.

"I... I know you don't believe in any saints or stuff like that, but... I noticed that every time we're in the chapel for some kind of celebration, you stare at the stained glass window of Sankta Ursula of the Waves. I found it in some flea markets while we were searching for a stag. I immediately thought of you."

"I…" he has no idea what to say. He didn't know you were watching him so carefully. That you actually care. But now… you didn't even know what it meant to him. Especially since the pendant you gave him and the portrait of Sankt were an exact representation of his sister. Not like that terrible stained glass window. "Thank you." he whispers shakily, because it's all he can do.

You took away his words. More than once. He should get used to this. I want to get used to it. But he can't. He won't risk losing you for a few moments... a few moments that are a young boy's dream.

"Anytime. May I?"

He nods. You stand behind him and take the necklace from him. You roll up the collar of his kefta so you can fasten it around his neck.

Your fingers brush against the skin of his neck, and he has to bite his lip (almost to the point of bleeding) to keep from letting out any embarrassment moan at the small touch.

He despised himself. His mother would mock him so much for weakness and vulnerability like this... but all he could do was sit quietly and appreciate your every little touch.

"Do you like it?" you whisper softly, still standing behind him. Your hands on his arms burn him, despite the thick layers of clothes he's wearing.

"I love it." he answers faster than he can think. He knows you can feel his heart beating wildly. He feels himself turning even redder.

"I'm glad you like it, Aleksander."

He feels blood on his mouth as he bites his bottom lip, hearing you whisper in his ear his real name. He was alternately regretful and glad that you knew it. In moments like this... he wasn't sure which feeling prevailed. Suddenly, he realises that he is gripping the arm of the chair so tightly that his knuckles are white.

Where was the fucking control he had spent years practicing when he needed it most? Where are the walls he painstakingly built around his stupid heart?

One heartrender was enough for all his composure to go to hell. And the worst thing was that, deep in his heart, he wanted to lose himself in you.

He stands up from his chair and turns towards you, looking down at you, trying to intimidate you as his shadows dance around you. But you just came closer. He holds his breath and tries to take a step back, but realises there's no escape as he slams his hips against the desk.

"Y/N."

"Aleksander."

You exchange whispers between the two of you, staring deeply into each other's eyes.

The sudden outburst makes you both shiver. Aleksander automatically grabs your arm and pulls you behind him, covering you as he listens.

"Stay here." he whispers as he takes a step towards the window.

You grab his elbow tightly and stop him. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You shake your head, staring at him defiantly. He rolls his eyes and grabs your waist, tightening his grip as you both walk carefully towards the balcony.

You see smoke rising from the Durasts' workshop.

"Damn it, 5th time in this year." Aleksander curses under his breath, and he releases his grip on your waist.

"They're working on transportation through the fold, be gentle with them."

He sighs and rubs his hand over his eyes. The tiredness becomes clearer on his face as he realises that he's going to have a long night ahead of him.

"I'll try my best. Go to bed, milaya. One of us should be rested." before he knows what he's actually doing, he walks up to you and kisses your forehead.

You stand frozen, feeling his lips on your skin, your heart racing at his gesture more than from adrenaline at the sudden outburst. And then he walks away quickly, leaving you alone.

You can't help but smirk as you watch him disappear into the shadows.

Aleksander is pissed. Nor. He is furious. Mad. Not because of the outburst that happened last night, but because he found out that you were getting more and more letters.

And he managed to intercept one. It was from Mal fucking Ortsev. The tracker you so desperately wanted back at the palace for stupid Christmas.

Everything made sense. Every kind gesture you made this month. And now he was storming through the halls of the Little Palace, straight to the kitchen where the guards had told him you would be, holding an unopened letter from your lover in your hand. A lover who, he will make sure, will never see the gates of Os Alta again.

He storms into the kitchen, and you almost manage to cool his anger when he sees you in an apron, baking some cake. You were singing something under your breath, probably one of those annoying songs that were played in every corner of Ravka.

And he almost melted, fascinated by the sight of you so... calm. A strange fantasy played in his head. You and him together, cooking something for the damn Christmas, decorating the house. He never had a real Christmas. Baghra wasn't sentimental enough to celebrate it, and she taught him the same, but with you... he would do all those stupid things.

Seeing you in this homey atmosphere almost took him off his warpath. Almost.

Until he remembered the letter he was holding and imagined the tracker doing all those things with you. He slammed the door loudly and waited for your reaction.

You screamed, spilling some of the flour you were holding onto the floor. You looked at him, and you were ready to yell at him for scaring you when you saw the look on his face.

"What happened?" you ask, brushing your hair off your forehead and getting flour all over it in the process.

In any other circumstances, he would have laughed; he would have been completely enchanted by your state. But now he was seeing red, imagining every single love letter that you could have written to that damn tracker.

"All these gifts, sweet words—all of it was for your tracker, right? You don't know this boy, you don't know what he is like, and yet you try to undermine my authority and change my decision just for some orphan from Keramzin! What does he have, huh?! What has blinded you, MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND, that you so desperately want this rash fool, who only gets into trouble because of his own stupidity?! Is he really worth risking my wrath?!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"THIS!" he slams his hand with the letter on the table between you. He glares at you furiously as you look at him with an equally defiant attitude. You take the letter and look at it in disbelief and anger.

"Do you monitor my correspondence?!"

"I should have done this ages ago! At least you wouldn't make a fool of me! You can say goodbye to your lovely tacker; I'll make sure he never again sets his foot in Os Alta."

"SERIOUSLY?! Look at me carefully, because I'll only say this once: MAL AND I ARE NOT TOGETHER!"

"Of course." he laughs mockingly and is about to leave the kitchen. You run to him and grab his arm tightly, forcing the letter into his hands.

"Read it." you say it coldly and firmly as you control yourself enough not to scream at him in anger.

"What?" he asks dazedly at your command, looking between your furious eyes and the letter you're pushing into his hands with all your might.

"Do you want to blame me for something? Go right ahead. Read. Prove yourself right." he takes the letter from you.

Jealousy and rage were still present in him, as well as a hint of sadness and hurt. That's what it was. Proof that all of this, every kind gesture, smile, look, touch, kiss—well, not a real one—was intended to bring you closer to another man. A man whose insides he would feed to volcras.

"Here you go." he opens the letter and clears his throat dramatically as he begins to read. "Dear Y/N. Thank you for your help. Alina was overjoyed with her gift. I don't know how to thank you. I'd love to be there for her, but I'm glad that at least you can take care of my beloved while I look for some damn stag…" he falls silent while reading, looking for something more in the letter he has in his hands. He blushes with embarrassment, realising the mistake he has made.

"See?" you ask him and gently cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

"But... the other letters..." he whispers, confused.

"I exchanged them with my brother."

There is a long silence between you as he digests all the information and realises the mistake he has made. He turns even redder at the rashness of his actions. He, who boasted of his patience and the fact that he was never wrong. The slightest suspicion that your heart belonged to someone else was enough to make him want to spill some blood and commit murder. And not yours, but that damn tracker's.

"Oh... the youngest one I guess?" he asks, trying to camouflage his earlier behavior. Or at least forget about it for a moment and let his heart slow down to a normal rhythm. He already humiliated himself enough in front of you.

"Yes." you confirm, a stupid smile on your lips. He swallows, nervous.

"Umm... that's lovely."

"He asked me if I'm coming home for Christams." you tell him, and he holds his breath for a moment, looking at you in anticipation. You don't say anything further. So he clears his throat and prepares to ask the question.

"Are you?"

"No. I'm staying in the Little Palace this year." for some strange reason, these few words bring him more joy than anything else in his several hundred years of life.

"Taht's... that's good. That's good to hear." he nods, unable to look you in the eye. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze towards the kitchen for a moment.

"Do you want to join me?"

"I beg you pardon?" he asks, confused. You nodded towards the bowls and cake you were baking before he came in and… jumped to the wrong conclusions. "I haven't… I haven't cooked for a while." he admits shyly. And you smile fondly as you see him so… ordinary for the first time. Humanly.

"Well, it's the best time to do it again, don't you think?" you ask and are about to pull him towards the table and the ingredients you prepared to make a cake when you feel the urge to look up. And you see mistletoe.

He also looks up and freezes at what he sees. A shiver of excitement and anxiety runs through his body. It was late at night. No one in their right mind would come here. No one would interrupt you.

He unconsciously leans towards you. He slowly lifts his hand and brushes your hair away from your face, gently brushing the flour from your forehead with his thumb. You giggle softly.

You cup his cheeks with your hands, and Aleksander sees in slow motion how you pull him towards you. Your lips get closer... but instead of moving to his lips, you place a tender kiss on his cheek.

His beard tickles you a little, and he can't help but feel deprived and tricked when your warm lips are limited to just caressing his cheek. He almost growls, exasperated, when, as quickly as you cling to him, you pull away.

"Put an apron on. We don't want to have your black kefta covered in flour." you say and go back to the table. You smile evilly. He didn't deserve a kiss after his little act today, but next time...

You squeal as he grabs you from behind and dumps a bag of flour over your head.

"ALEKSANDER!" you shout, and he laughs loudly, not caring at all that anyone might have heard his name. He tries to get away from you when you throw eggs at him.

When you are laughing and throwing everything at each other, you don't notice that the kitchen door is slowly and silently closing. And someone's footsteps echo through the corridors of the Little Palace.

170 notes · View notes

inkskinned · 2 years

Text

you know, the light that fades at the end of Goncharov isn't light.

i am not a very good person to talk to about movies. i haven't seen most of the "official" american canon - jaws, psycho, citizen kane. i have seen sharknado, though. like so much in my childhood, what i knew was a little jar on a long shelf of gallons; my world was a catholic desert in new england weather.

my father had gotten his snout up about something; so we had to watch it. he was mad we hadn't seen it, the way people are going to be mad i haven't seen those three up i named there, as if i me having-not-seen-the-movie was because i was making some kind of political statement or argument. i just haven't seen them yet, i have no opinion about it. i'll eventually get around to it, god be willing.

during that time, i was doing bad in school and worse in taking care of my body. i sat on the floor on this green pillow, one of the ones my dog eventually tears up. my dad typed g-o-n into the DVR with that slow methodical passion, the remote tilted so the "rays" or whatever would somehow find the ever-smaller input.

he was excited. "you need to understand the light." he didn't look at me while he did it, focused.

"are you spelling gonorrhea." my brother, the eldest, was 17 in this memory. he was sitting on the chair in the corner, playing a game i can't remember the name of. (starfleet? star invaders? it was online, i know that. lots of clicking.)

my dad is used to this. we talk over each other all the time. "when they made it, scorsese wanted this specific hue over everything." my father looks over his shoulder at me, but i'm on the floor, stretching. i don't have a smart phone yet. i'm just watching with the anxious-restless feeling we all get when your father is painstakingly typing something into a virtual keyboard at an eighth of the speed you could have managed. "you'd like this, raquel. what color do you think he wanted?"

my mom comes in from the kitchen. "do we want salt or butter on the popcorn?" she has a handful she pops into her mouth. "wait for your sister to come upstairs. she'll be mad if she misses a part."

"salt," i say, while my brother says "butter."

"spruce." my dad is undeterred. he finally clicks the v, and then navigates over the red tiles to enter. "Spruce."

"okay?" i like dark green too. to be honest, i have no idea who Scorsese is or why he is important. (this is, by the way, still true.)

"here's the thing." my father doesn't actually click the "enter." he just looks at me, adjusting his glasses. "it doesn't exist."

okay. he's right. i do like this. i squint up at him, the signal to go on.

"it came to him in a dream. it's not a real color." my brother monotones, flat. he's heard this story before, and he's 17.

"i still say it's green," my mother says. she comes in holding the salt-and-buttered popcorn, fluffy in an orange bowl. "he just never painted a house, is all."

"it's a candle smell," i say.

"a tree." i don't know when my little sister came upstairs. she's braiding her hair, frowning. "i thought we were going to watch psych."

"it's old movie night," my mother answers. there's something there, in the cant of her smile, which i won't understand until i am much older. if you are over 25, you know what i saw. my mother, seeing her family settle like tired birds around a movie screen, for the moment placid, not-fighting. none of the children are happy about the selection - why would we be?

"Scorsese says it's not green." my father finally clicks rent for 2.99. "he was looking for this specific color, the one from his dreams. the color he had been told was called spruce, through someone in the dream." he looks to me again, his poet. "you know how dreams always feel... different. when you look back on them in your memories, they don't color in all the way. and he wanted that dream tinge."

the memories of my dreams are covered in colored static. sometimes i nightmare in black and white. i did not share this information, thinking it was too private. (forgive me. i was 14. everything was too-private for me.)

"a regular hitchcock," my mom mutters. we don't know, yet, not really, about what hitchcock did.

"he revolutionized the lighting industry. raquel, you have to look for the light in this thing. it's only in a few frames per scene. he didn't want it to be overwhelming."

"he fired like 10 people while he was doing it." my brother doesn't look up from his screen, clicking feverishly. "in order to get the color, he had to develop a software to switch lighting past human speed." he sends a glance towards the TV, kind of relenting. "it was cool, actually. he didn't actually light the room with that speed, he used one set of colors on the set and then another set specifically over the film. we're basically seeing two films: one that has the regular lighting, and then just this lighting track playing on top."

"like a sound list - ah, what's that called?" my father's remote hovers over play. i am trying to figure out what color i think spruce is going to be. "soundtrack," he amends. "are we all ready?"

"i still don't think it's real," my mother says. "i think he made it up for PR." my mother is good at colors. my mother would be right about that kind of thing.

"hon, he spent thousands of dollars on this." my father isn't angry, for once, he's smiling. "i'm telling you, it happens."

she shrugs. "i'll believe it when i see it."

we are not ready. we have to each find places to sit. i've been lying about how bad my eyesight is getting, so i keep my seat on the floor, close to the television. my mother, father, and sister take the couch. i make sure i am within reaching distance of the popcorn. my brother even kind-of closes his monstrosity of a laptop. then my mother has to use the bathroom, so we all do, so we won't have to pause later. then my sister remembers her homework, so i get mine too, spreading it uselessly in front of me. i slide open my verizon sidekick keyboard phone to text Dean who the fuck is scorkayze? [sic] and then we are ready.

my mom falls asleep by the end of the first 15 minutes. my father misses most of it, since he's already seen it, going downstairs to play World Civ instead. my sister doesn't get it, so she ends up at the dining room table, doing homework instead. my brother goes back to the video game.

i stare really, really, really hard at the film, trying to figure out where the spruce happens. a few frames per scene.

i don't like the film. like most movies i saw at the time, i found it boring. i had undiagnosed adhd. i spend most of my time stretching and texting and not-doing my homework. again, i'm sorry - i was 14.

when the "gun" finally goes off - if you've seen the movie, you know the scene, and i won't spoil it here for other readers - i looked back over my shoulder towards my family. all of us, quiet in our own little seats. satellites. did i want this memory to be different? that i would turn and see my family, happily crowded chickadees, our wings brushing? or is this just the real-life, the type of love where we are not nesting birds, but foxes. prowling the edges of our comfort with our jaws open. snapping at the shadows, wishing for the closeness we don't allow ourselves to get. tomorrow we will watch psych. this is the last year of my life that all of us will live under the same roof. my brother goes off to college, and my sister and i follow suit. it is the last year my grades don't matter. it is my sister's first year of middle school. it is 2007; and in 2008, in the recession, we will no longer be able to afford to turn on the heat.

behind me, on the television, the light was fading.

sometimes, when i think back to it, shifting through the memory: it appears out of the thin air. a frame of spruce. it's never around the movie. my father's hands on the remote. my brother's low voice. the sound of my sister walking up the stairs. the popcorn smell hanging in the air. for a moment, the sense - everything is easy. and you know? i think i see it, mr. scorsese.

#how far do we go for a meme?#haha :)#what if i just write about the death of childhood by accident #this was supposed to be 3 paragraphs but i just finished disco elysium #so i am too full up on words #ps most of this is true #i still haven't seen those movies lmafo

1K notes · View notes

vox-ex · 8 months

Text

desk

Supercorptober 2023

“People are a lot more knowable than they think they are.” ― Sally Rooney

or a preque and a sequel to day 3 - Kara

---

There are a couple things that are important to know.

One is that Lena Luthor has a specific ringtone for Kara Danvers.

Two is that she never brings her personal phone into the Monthly board meeting that happens on the second Thursday of every month.

Third, whenever there is a concerning report about Supergirl on the news, Jess notices that Kara Danvers always calls.

Today is the second Thursday of October.

So Lena did not see the news.

Did not see Supergirl bleeding on the ground.

Did not see the camera cut out before she could get up.

And it wouldn't usually worry her so much.

Except Kara hasn't called.

"Jess?" Lena's confusion is palpable, etched across her features as Jess opens the door a little harder and a little quicker than she probably meant to.

"Ms. Luthor, I'm sorry—I'm so, so sorry to interrupt, but…" The sound of her own voice rang through Jess's ears as she stammered out the words. They get caught in her throat, unsure how much she's supposed to know, what she's supposed to say.

She could feel the weight of Lena's gaze on her, like something physical.

"I'm sorry, everyone, I'm sorry, but I…I have to go," her voice wavering slightly as she addressed the board members seated around the conference table.

Jess watched in equal parts relief and trepidation as Lena rose from her chair, her expression a blend of determination and vulnerability.

Jess stays behind for a second. Reassures the board members, still sitting there unmoored in their seats, that she will call their offices to reschedule, that Ms. Luthor is sorry, and that they should understand some things like this just can't be avoided.

They exchanged uncertain glances but, in the end, seem to accept the apology, murmuring their understanding as they gathered their belongings,

Jess catches up with Lena in her office.

Jacket half on, struggling to pull the sleeve up her arm as it tries to push past the barrier of her trembling hands. Jess steps up beside her, slides it up for her, meeting her eyes only briefly before she spins back around to finish shrugging it onto both shoulders.

Jess busied herself with gathering her things. Papers, her laptop, and a few others she didn't even really pay attention to.

"Jess, do you see my phone?" Lena asked, her voice strained.

"Right here." Jess hands her the phone that had been tucked under a stack of reports on her desk.

"Thank you," Lena mumbled, looking at it quickly before sliding it into her pocket, frustrated — scared.

Her eyes dart around the room as if looking for something else.

"Do you need a ride somewhere?" Jess ventured tentatively.

"No, no," Lena sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I just need a second."

Jess nodded, her eyes filled with worry.

"Frank's bringing the car, around," Lena said, more to herself than to her.

"Ms. Luthor," Jess began, taking a deep breath, "I know it doesn't help, but I think the news probably always makes it sound worse, you know."

"Thank you, Jess," Lena replied softly, centering back on her at least for a moment before her phone buzzed in her pocket, and then she was gone.

Jess hesitated. There were things she needed to do.

Meetings to reschedule.

She busied herself with tidying Lena's desk instead. Straightening papers, replacing pens in their holders, and ordering new flowers.

It felt more useful somehow.

----

Ms. Luthor calls to tell her she isn't coming in the following day, tells her she should stay home too.

But Jess has work she can get caught up on, and to be honest, she doesn't mind the distraction.

She does, however, mind Kara Danvers showing up in front of her desk just as she's sitting down with her lunch.

"Shit, shit-shit," Jess gasped, dropping her sandwich and knocking over her little cactus sending dirt scattering all over the R&D reports she had just spent all morning organizing.

"Shit!"

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry Jess, I didn't mean to startle you— um here — here let me help."

Kara reaches toward the mess, tilting the pot back upright as she grabs the little cactus, only to quickly drop it back down, pulling her finger away and shaking out her hand.

"Hey, ouch!"

Jess watched in disbelief as Kara shook her hand, trying to dislodge the tiny needles.

And here's the thing.

It should be funny.

It should be funny that a grown woman doesn't realize that palming a cactus like that wouldn't have this exact effect.

It should be funny that Supergirl is standing in front of her with her finger shoved into her mouth to stop it from bleeding after having been viscously attacked by a desk plant.

But here's the thing.

Jess knows Kara is Supergirl.

But the two have still managed to remain very separate in her mind up until know.

So, while the sight of Supergirl bleeding at all is always disconcerting, it's the sight of Supergirl dressed in her boss' girlfriend's clothes bleeding that feels utterly surreal.

Jess takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the shock and confusion.

"Are you okay?" she asks cautiously, eyeing Kara's bleeding finger.

She nods, pulling her finger out of her mouth to examine it.

"Yeah, just a little prick from your uhh, pointy friend there," she says with a small smile pointing with her other hand at the offending plant.

Jess blinks, takes in Kara more fully. The tired look in her eyes, the dinosaur bandaids peaking out from under her sleeves.

"Did you name it yet?"

Jess shakes her head, caught off guard a second time.

"No…I-uh, hadn't uh —"

Then, a third.

"Kara?"

Lena's voice echoes from inside her office.

"I'm out here…talking to Jess."

Kara calls back, and Jess watches her carefully tuck her hand into her pocket, hiding any evidence of her bleeding finger as Lena steps out to join them.

"Jess, hi, sorry I didn't think you'd be here since I wasn't coming in."

"Yet here you are as well, Ms. Luthor."

"Yes, well, I wanted to get a few reports to work on from home; I didn't mean to slip in without letting you know."

"I left for a minute to get my lunch." She gestures to the half-eaten sandwich resting in the spilled potting soil.

Lena looks at Kara. "What did you do?"

"Wha-why, why do you think I did anything?"

"Because we both know how clumsy you are without --" Lena's voice trailed off as Jess cleared her throat. Still unsure if she was supposed to know what she knew.

"Let's just say accidents happen."

Kara shot Jess a grateful look as she reached out to pick up the cactus again, but Lena grabbed her wrist gently.

"Are you bleeding?"

"Yes."

"No"

"Ugh…Yes and No. I was, but it stopped."

She holds out her finger for Lena to get a closer look.

"I tried picking up Gerald…and I didn't realize how prickly they were."

"Gerald?" Jess asks confused

Kara points to the cactus.

"You said you hadn't named them yet, so I was just trying it out."

Lena pinches the bridge of her nose, fighting a smile.

"Okay, well, let's get you both cleaned up then and then buy Jess a new lunch."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. It's fine, really."

"Jess, please, let's get lunch.

Lena looked between her and Kara who was looking anywhere else now.

"There appear to be some things we both need to tell each other."

She smiled — and nodded.

"Okay, yes, thank you, let me just put a few things away."

She grabs the R&D reports, dusting them off a little.

Comes back just in time to see Lena gingerly picking up the cactus.

Hears Kara's gentle warning.

"Be careful, Gerald can be feisty."

Sees Lena poke her finger into her chest.

"I have enough to worry about with you, Kara, please don't make me add succulents to the list of things that can harm Supergirl."

Knows both of them could probably do with being a little more careful with the rate they find themselves in trouble.

----

read and follow along on Ao3 too

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #sg prompts #Jess making her annual supercorptober apperance #revisiting day 3 #which may happen again #wink wink

227 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 5 months

Text

Dream Come True - Part 4

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~2000. I think this is my longest chapter.

Warnings: Bullying, Fat shaming, Insecure reader, Violence mentioned and referenced but not written. Please let me know if I missed any!

Series Masterlist

Part 3 -- Part 5

It figured. You had an interview in an hour and now Curtis had time to talk to you. You could probably catch a cab and still arrive on time, so long as you kept this conversation short.

As soon as he walked into the cyber cafe (your second home at this point) you stood up and got his attention. He looked a little surprised to see you standing but you remembered every time he's seen you so far it was in a hospital bed. It's been a few weeks and your leg was still stiff but you were diligent in your physical therapy and healing well.

He walked over to you, accompanied by someone you didn't recognize. As soon as he got close enough you directed him to the office in the back, "Jefferson gave me permission to use his office for this discussion." Curtis nodded and the three of you went into the room, closing the door behind you.

"Hello," you reach a hand towards the stranger, "I'm Y/N. I don't think we've been introduced."

"Mace," he shakes your hand with a smile. "We've never met but I have heard a lot about you."

"It's nice to meet you," you return the smile. Looking at Curtis you continue, "we need to talk about either my schedule or Hal's, Sir."

Curtis gestures to the chairs and you all take a seat.

You start, "I understand that there are a lot of things you can't account for in your scheduling but Hal has had to cancel every session I've tried to have with him. And if I'm not tutoring, I'm not getting paid."

"We can put you on retainer," Curtis started.

You interrupted him with a scoff. "I'm not getting paid to do nothing, Sir. What's more, this is hurting Hal. He wants to learn but your chaotic scheduling is preventing that. Do you know how discouraging that can be? To finally have a resource but never be allowed to use it?"

Curtis sighs and looks at Mace, "do you think we can figure out a consistent time?"

"It'll take some work," he replies. "And, as the lady points out, there are things we can't plan for. But it should be possible."

Curtis looks at you, questioningly and you nod your head, "thank you both. This has been very frustrating for me and Hal so I really appreciate it."

"Eh," Mace replies, "what's a little more work?"

"Well I don't mean to cut into your time off with this, Sirs," your tone apologetic.

"We don't do time off," Curtis cuts in.

"What? Why not," you demand. "Time off is important for physical and mental health."

"We have to show our people that we're not asking them to do anything we wouldn't do ourselves," Curtis replied calmly.

"That's bullshit," you exclaim. "No wonder everyone's schedules are so hectic! You're all too exhausted and worn out to think straight!"

"We've been doing this for years," Curtis angrily interjects. "It's clearly been working."

"If you, Hal and Jake are any indication it's only working because of an ungodly amount of caffeine and luck," you retort. "You either need to get some more people or start scheduling R&R for you and your employees, Sir."

You're so focused on Curtis that you don't see Mace smiling, clearly trying not to laugh. Curtis's eyes soften a bit and he nods in concession.

"Thank you." You check your watch, "now if you'll excuse me, I have an interview to get to."

"What?" Curtis looked shocked. You almost think you saw some hurt in his eyes.

"My work for you will always get highest priority, Sir," you assure. "But it's very part-time work, that you’ve been unintentionally sabotaging and keeping very part-time. And that overly generous back pay won't last forever. So I'm looking at getting another income."

"Do you need a ride to the interview," Mace offers.

"No, but thank you," you reply. "The Wilford & Gilliam Trust building isn't too far and I can afford a cab."

Both men froze at your words as you got up and tried to leave. Curtis quickly blocked your access to the door and nearly growled, "you're not going to that interview."

"Excuse you?" Your eyes widen in surprise. "I've already told you that my work for you will get top priority and that I need the income, Sir. Now please move. I don't want to be late."

"You're not working for Wilford & Gilliam," Curtis barked. "You need another income? Fine. I'll find you another job. But you're not working for them."

"It's just a part-time, data entry kind of job," you retort. "And it's consistent, reliable work."

"They're horrible people who fund even worse people," Curtis scowled. "I know you like your data to back up these kinds of things but I can't tell you how I know."

You scan Curtis's face, take aback at the intensity of his conviction. There is no room for doubt that he believes in what he's saying. "Okay, Sir," you concede. "You've yet to do wrong by me so I'll trust you. I will still look for a second job, in case you can't find me one, but it will not be with them."

Satisfied with your answer Curtis let's you leave. As soon as you're out the office door he sees the grin on Mace's face. He gives him a questioning look but before Mace can say anything they hear you exclaim, "Mr. Drysdale?!"

Both men rush out to the main cafe and see Ransom looking uncharacteristically repentant.

"Y/N," Ransom gulped, "come back to work for me. Please."

"No," you responded before trying to walk around him.

Ransom blocks your path, "please! I...I made a mistake and I would like to make it up to you."

"No," you repeat, patience wearing thin.

"I'll double your pay, please!"

"Hire someone else!"

"I'VE TRIED," he shouts. "Their work doesn't get me through writer's block like yours did. Their research is all dry facts that are hard to absorb. You wrote in such a way that it was easy for me to figure out how to write it into the story. So PLEASE come back to work for me!"

"Do you know why I requested remote work, Mr. Drysdale?" He shakes his head, not used to the iciness in your voice. "I heard you complaining about me to your grandfather, the one who made you hire me. You never had a problem with my work but you still insisted he let you fire me so you could get a pretty assistant. One who was, to use your words, preferably fresh out of college. Because how could you be expected to write when you had to look at ugly, fat ass instead of a beautiful muse?"

Ransom at least had the decency to look ashamed but you didn't relent.

"So I worked remotely, making sure you wouldn't have to see me and I wouldn't have to put up with your looks of disgust. And then, when I got hurt, you cut me loose. So, no, Mr. Drysdale, I will not be working for you ever again. I prefer a reliable employer who appreciates my work."

You try to walk past him but he puts an arm out to stop you. Before you can react to the arm, Curtis has pulled Ransom away, gripping him by the front of his sweater. You don't want to cry in front of everyone so you keep walking, set on going home.

As soon as you're out the door Curtis snarls, "you do not treat any of my employees like that." Before Ransom can reply Curtis punches him in the face and he falls to the floor. Curtis glances at Mace who responds with a nod, promising he'll see to the witnesses, before he lets himself run after you.

Thankfully it was an off time of day and the sidewalks were mostly empty. He spotted you right away and quickly went after you. He caught up to you but the tears in your eyes made him stop in his tracks.

“Y/N,” he asked. “You gonna be okay?”

“Eventually, Sir,” you reply, still walking. “He’s not the first asshole I’ve had to deal with and he won’t be the last.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I should’ve stepped in sooner.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, actually. He needs to know I’m serious and that I’m strong enough to not need him. If you had stepped in before I was done talking, he’d think he could still get to me by going around you. This way I got to be the one shutting him out, giving him no room to think he could worm around.”

“That’s fair. I was incredibly impressed with how you handled him.”

“Like I said, not the first asshole to put my looks ahead of my worth.”

“Your prettiness is definitely a bonus to your good work,” he says before he can stop himself.

You stop and look at him, an angry expression and fresh tears on your face. “Don’t, Sir. Just don’t. I’m not interested in your pity.”

“I’m not…” Curtis stops himself. He’s clearly not saying the right things and doesn’t want to hurt you further. “I’m sorry.”

You nod and continue the trek to your apartment. He silently accompanies you. You’re hurt and he can’t fix it. If anything, he’d likely just make it worse. He never wanted to see tears in your eyes but being the cause of a fresh wave of them made him hurt in ways he never knew he could.

“This is my building, Sir,” you interrupt his thoughts. “Thank you for walking me home and making sure I’m okay.” He nods, still afraid to say or do anything else, and you walk into your building, leaving him on the sidewalk. Part of him wants to follow after but he’s not sure he’d be able to actually do anything. Best if he just gets lost in his work. That’s always helped him before.

As he turns to walk back to the cybercafe, he sees Mace in their work van, parked on the curb. He moves into the passenger seat and sighs. As Mace drives away, Curtis says, “okay, we’ve gotta rework a few schedules.”

Mace chuckles, “if I’d known all it would take to get you to relent was a pretty face with a fiery spirit-”

“Don’t,” Curtis interrupts.

“I’m just saying,” Mace bantered. “I’ve been telling you for a long while now that we need to give the guys a better work environment or they’ll burnout and make stupid mistakes. She makes one comment about how it affects her and you’re singing a different tune.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“I was there, Curtis. I saw it all happen.”

Curtis remained silent.

“I can’t say I blame you, though. She’s got some serious-”

“ENOUGH,” Curtis ordered. “Let’s just get to thinking about some more work for her.”

Mace took a calculating look at Curtis, “how about we have work with Colin and Mickey? They could use someone responsible to act as their manager. We could get better info from their VIP section if at least one person was sober. And you know they’d make her feel…appreciated.”

“No,” Curtis barked. “They’re idiots who would get her in trouble. I also don’t want her anywhere near the drug monitoring operations. If one of Rumlow’s goons pushes something on her…”

“Okay,” Mace interrupted. “How about Lee or Barber? She’d be pretty safe with them.”

“No. She’s too curious. Lee and Barber have information about us and I don’t want her to go snooping and suddenly be liable for our mistakes.”

“You’re intent on keeping her in the dark? She’s clearly smart enough to know there’s more to all of what we do.”

“But she has no specifics. No details. She can still claim ignorance and that’s how I want it.”

“Not sure how plausible an idea that’s gonna be. Especially when you two start dating.” Mace smiles a little when he hears Curtis’s warning grunt.

“That’s not going to happen,” Curtis vows. “We’ll figure out something.”

“Whatever you say, Boss.”

Part 3 -- Part 5

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#Curtis Everett x plus size!reader #curtis everett x reader #mob!curtis everett #mafia!curtis everett #Curtis Everett x female!reader

120 notes · View notes

ggomos-maribat · 9 months

Text

NMWYCAM [bonus deleted chapter]

This is a scene i wrote out but couldn't fit into the current chapters :)

Originally Damian was going to find out that Marinette knows their secret in another way...lol he was gonna get badly injured as Robin and Marinette saves him but reveals she knows his identity

***

2:51 a.m. Marinette was still awake, despite the kwamis telling her off. She found herself having excess energy that night, so she decided on sketching under the yellow desk lamp with some music on. All was calm and peaceful until her phone buzzed.

Damian: Hello

Damian: Are you awake? Can I call you right now?

Her keyboard popped up for the reply, but more messages came in.

Damian: You're probably sleeping

Damian: ...

Damian: sorry

Damian: I shouldn't have bothered

Damian: sweet dreams, Marinette

Smiling, she went ahead and pressed the call button. When it took him several rings to answer, she pictured a panicked Damian fumbling to answer his phone.

"What's up?" She asked.

"Did I wake you?" His warm voice filled her ears. "Sorry . . ."

"No, no, I was awake. Couldn't sleep." Marinette propped her legs up on her chair, tucking them to her chest. She saw a groggy Tikki peek out of her small blanket but she waved the kwami off to go back to sleep. "Is something the matter?"

"No, I . . . I was just lying in bed and got the sudden urge to talk to you," Damian recounted. "Is that strange?"

Marinette brought the back of her hand to her reddened cheek. This boy. "I think that means you miss me, Damian," she laughed. "How was patrol?"

"It went smoothly. We disrupted a smuggling operation and put Riddler back in Arkham. You? What were you doing?"

"Ah just drawing out some ideas. Nothing too important." Snuggled in her blanket under the calm night and talking to Damian was like a tight embrace, Marinette realized. "I hope you didn't push yourself too hard."

A scoff sounded out from Damian. "Father threatened to bench me when I chased after the Riddler. The others kept watching me like I'll disappear into thin air."

"They're just worried about you, you know. As they should be."

"I only need you to worry about me." A long pause. Then a long sigh. "Sorry, I . . . I don't know why I said that."

Marinette hummed, feeling more heat crawl under her skin. "It's alright. They say your inhibitions are looser at night, especially when you're tired. But it's okay to be vulnerable; it's just me."

"What do you mean by that? 'It's just you'?"

"I mean I understand that you're being honest about whatever you say to me right now. I won't judge you for it. I won't even bring it up tomorrow if that's what you want." She pressed her phone closer to her ear. "I don't want you to feel that you need to keep something to yourself just because it's me hearing your words."

". . . How come you always say the right thing?"

"I guess it's my forte?"

"What if I can't say the right things?"

"Just talking to you like this is enough for me," Marinette said. "I can be the one good with words, and you can be the one good with actions. You always are."

"That's not fair at all. You are also good with actions."

That elicited another laugh from her. "But you are very good at taking care of people through your gestures. Not a lot can do that."

"You're the only one who has ever said that."

"'Cause I'm the only one who notices."

Soon, whilst they talk, Marinette noticed that he was mumbling the ends of his words. Later on when she finished her amusing story about a deal with a client, she didn't hear a reply, but instead, light snoring at the other end of the line.

He sounds so relaxed. Now she had the urge to look at his sleeping face.

"Good night, Damian," she whispered. "I miss you too."

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

219 notes · View notes

strawberrystepmom · 3 months

Text

i've been asked by so many people lately how i can so confidently believe in love in all of its forms and i've been pondering this myself a lot because everything feels so unbelievably loveless but like the shining example that comes to mind is my hairdresser and her husband

she is one of my closest friends. i didn't know her before she cut my hair for the first time but we bonded fast and we bonded hard and she loved her job. spent an hour and a half telling me about how the best part of her job is getting to talk to people and hear about their lives, to understand their stories and to help them feel good about themselves. this is not me going on a tangent about how wonderful she is (although i could), this is important to the rest of the story.

the last time she cut my hair was november 2022. she told me that evening she had decided to go and work a corporate job because her husband had been recently diagnosed with kidney failure. we cried, i hugged her hard, i told her if she needed anything that i would be there for her and we left the chair and station we became friends in and at for the final time together that evening.

she doesn't like her corporate job but the benefits, mainly health insurance, are undeniable and she has to have them for his treatment. they were told in february 2023 that he would need a kidney transplant or he likely wouldn't live to see 35. he was 32 at the time. this, of course, created great stress for them as a family and they scrambled to see if they could find a donor.

she offered herself as a donor and he was apprehensive about it. he didn't flat out deny her the ability to at least find out of if they were compatible so she did and as it turned out - they're a match.

now to get to the point about love.

she did this with no expectation the two of them would be together forever. she did this understanding there may come a time there will be a literal piece of her inside of him and he isn't by her side. she did this out of pure, unconditional love and desire to see the man she cares about live and thrive for as long as he can. it's not buying his love or affection or guaranteeing it forever nor is she asking that.

i've had a few conversations with her about the donation and transplant and she doesn't treat it like it's a big deal. she told me that his mother made a comment along the lines "well it's not like he can give it back if you decide you want to go" as if it's inevitability that she will.

she did it because she loves him right now and that's enough. to give someone a kidney because you love them so much.

that's one of the many ways i know love exists.

70 notes · View notes

lullabyes22-blog · 3 months

Text

Snippet - Jayce Goes Sleuthing - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

In the wake of Vi's departure, and Viktor's defection, Jayce's life falls apart.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

"Consider carefully. The Man of Tomorrow, Piltover's brightest mind, would look pretty dim in a prison jumpsuit."

Snippet:

Caitlyn—

I got your message this morning. I'm sorry it's taken so long to write. It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Not sure where to begin, so I guess I'll start with the most important thing:

I've resigned from the Council.

As of last week, I'm no longer a Councilor. Just a regular citizen. I know the news isn't official yet. There will be a special announcement later this week. It's pretty short-notice. I'm sure the media will have a field day.

Your Mother knows; I'm surprised she didn't tell you. Then again, the Council's been busy scrambling to find a replacement for Professor Heimerdinger. They've been hogtied in a bunch of other issues since Zaun's independence, too. There's been nothing but emergency sessions with the Zaunite Cabinet. So it's possible she didn't get a chance.

The motion for me to step down was unanimous. It's the right choice, and I'm at peace with it.

I'm sorry to hear about yours and Violet's split. It sounds like the two of you had a good thing going. She and I didn't really see eye to eye. But you seemed to care for her a lot. I had no idea there was a Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative happening—or that she'd been reassigned to Zaun. I saw no preliminary memos on the matter. If I had, maybe I could've done something to prevent it.

Then again, I've been so distracted lately. It wouldn't have surprised me if a hundred things slipped under my radar.

I understand you're concerned for her safety. Near as my old contacts in the Council can tell me, her transfer has been approved. They've already conducted the ceremonial swearing-in, and the inaugural Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative has officially begun. They've been granted interim residency until the next rotation, six months from now.

There's not much that can be done to stop it. At least, not in the legal sense. My authority to intervene has run its course. And if the Council's being tightlipped, then Silco's people are pathologically silent. The details of Violet's reassignment—where she'll stay, her duties, her work schedule—is all being kept private.

I'm sorry, Cait. You're the last person who deserves this kind of heartbreak.

You've asked me to confront Mel. To convince her to stop Vi's transfer, or pull the plug on the whole project.

Sadly, I can't do either of those things.

Mel and I are no longer together. It was a mutual decision. She's no longer my mentor, and I'm no longer her protégé. She's made her position on forging diplomatic ties with Zaun's First Chancellor clear. I've made equally clear my distaste on trying to spin blood money into gold. We're both determined to follow through, and I don't see a way of changing that.

Guess it's heartbreaks all around, huh?

Maybe it's necessary. Maybe we're supposed to hurt so we can grow. I think I've gotten a little too comfortable in my cushy Council chair. It's high time I got back to the grind. I wanted to build a better world. That means I need to put the work in at HexCorp to make it happen.

We'll get through this, Cait. You and me. Let's meet up once things have calmed down. I miss our talks. I need some sane company after weeks of listening to politicians bicker.

If there's anything I can do, please let me know.

Fondly,

Jayce

Cait—

Viktor's gone.

He's been missing since last Wednesday. The reason the Enforcers haven't been informed yet is because the Council is keeping it under wraps. But they've alerted the Wardens, and they're conducting a private investigation. Viktor's notes are gone from the lab. His apartment has been ransacked. All the Hex-tech prototypes are missing.

So is the Hexcore.

I'm worried. Not because the Hexcore could be turned into a weapon of mass destruction. Viktor's been under a great deal of strain. He's not well. I don't want him getting hurt. The fact that all his research has been taken—it makes no sense. He could've been abducted, but there's no ransom note. None of his assistants noticed any signs of foul play.

There's also been no sightings of Sky Young. Or any traces of her remains.

Cait—I don't want to add to your troubles. But I don't know who else to share this with. I trust you. I value your insight.

And the truth is, I'm a little scared.

The Wardens are suggesting Viktor's gone rogue. More than that. They're speculating that he may be linked to Sky's disappearance. Their inquisitor told me that his behavior during their last interrogation was erratic. That he'd showed signs of paranoia. That he'd withheld key details about Sky's last hours, and lied about the last time he'd seen her.

They're considering the possibility that Viktor was involved in her disappearance.

Cait—I think it's bullshit. Viktor wouldn't harm a fly. He's one of the gentlest souls I've ever known. He's dedicated his life to serving Piltover, and making it a better place. And he’s known Sky since they were children. I never saw anything but respect between them. Her disappearance hit him hard. I was with him when the preliminary investigation was being conducted.

I can tell you: he wasn't faking his grief.

Something else is going on. I don't know what.

But I'm going to find out.

In the meantime, I'm sorry I can't be of more help with tracking down Violet. I don't have any pull with the Wardens, or Silco's administration. And my contacts on the Council won't talk. Try reaching out to your mother. She's the only one I know who can reasonably intervene. At the very least, she can get her sources to conduct a quiet search.

I know it's not the solution you wanted. I know the stakes are high.

I just want you to know you're not alone.

Warm regards,

Jayce

Caitlyn—

It's late, and I know you're probably sleeping. Still, I had to write. Something happened tonight.

The Wardens found Viktor.

He's been located in Zaun. Specifically, at the headquarters of First Chancellor Silco. They're claiming he's defected. What's more, they're stating that he's in collaboration with a notorious chemist, formerly known as Colin Reveck, but currently known as "Singed." The doctor has a record for performing unethical experiments.

He's also rumored to be responsible for the creation of Shimmer.

The Wardens received clearance to access Viktor's medical records. They found traces of Shimmer in his blood samples. Apparently, Viktor's been on the drug for months. He's been hiding the side-effects. There is evidence that he's been taking massive doses. It's been compromising his mind.

And now, according to the Wardens, he's a wanted fugitive.

Sky Young's DNA has been found on his personal belongings.

I can't believe it, Cait. This isn't the man I know. Viktor would never harm Sky. Never. And with his medical condition, he'd be too weak to physically attack her. As for the Shimmer—he's always been adamant about never touching drugs. Or stimulants of any kind. One cup of caffeine was enough to get him buzzed.

He wouldn't take that poison, even in his darkest hours.

Something isn't adding up.

The Council are currently in talks with Zaun's Cabinet. They're demanding that Viktor and the Hexcore be handed over. The Wardens are pushing for extradition. Mel has been trying—unsuccessfully—to reach First Chancellor Silco. He's been unavailable since last afternoon.

This is bad.

I've got a sinking feeling. Viktor's research—the Hexcore—it's the key to unlocking a whole stratum of potential weaponry. The fact that he's now in Zaun, under Silco’s aegis, isn't a coincidence. Silco's notoriously secretive, but we know that he has an extensive network of spies and informants. If he saw a chance to use Viktor's illness against him, and profit off his genius, he'd seize it without a second thought.

That's exactly what I think is happening.

Viktor's not a criminal. And he didn't disappear of his own volition. Silco must've had a hand in it.

I'm going to figure out how.

Take care of yourself, okay? Please. I've already lost my brother. I can't lose my best friend too.

Be safe. I'll keep in touch.

Jayce

Cait—

Sorry I took off so early yesterday. There was no time. The Council had an emergency meeting with HexCorp, and I was summoned as its representative.

Things have escalated. Zaun's Cabinet has denied extradition. They claim that Viktor's entry into Zaun was perfectly legal. What's more, they state that the Hexcore, as one of Viktor's primary inventions, is his to take wherever he chooses. They even claim that the Hexcore is a prototype and, therefore, not an official piece of HexCorp's patented technology.

I'd expected the Council to push back. Instead—and I can't believe I'm writing this—they've acquiesced.

I was speechless.

The Council's position is that, as a scientist, Viktor has a right to his intellectual property. I argued that we'd both worked on the Hexcore as a team. Therefore, it was ours. They pointed to our original patent agreement, and the fine print that gives us equal, but not joint, ownership. They also reminded me that, as Viktor was from the Fissures, he was legally a foreigner under Piltover's laws.

I remember, during my tenure as a Councilor, pushing for months to get that stupid provision removed, and having my proposal shot down.

Now it's bit the entire city in the ass.

Cait—I'm ashamed to say it. But I lost my temper. In the middle of the meeting, I slammed my fist on the table and demanded to know why the hell they were backing down. Didn't we have the resources, and the right, to protect those who'd served us? Even if Viktor had exited under a cloud, didn't his deteriorating health and the danger the Hexcore posed justify both their retrieval?

Why, I wanted to know, weren't they summoning Silco here to account for his actions? Why weren't they threatening his administration with military force if he refused to cooperate? Didn't he owe us an explanation as to how our greatest innovator had come into contact with him?

It was Mel who answered. She explained that Silco's administration is a sovereign entity. We don't have the authority to demand an audience, nor the leverage to force his cooperation. We're not even legally bound to warn him. Zaun's Cabinet has the right to act independently of our influence. And, as for Silco's personal agenda, that is beyond the Council's purview. He's not obliged to share his secrets. It's his prerogative, not ours.

In other words, we don't have a leg to stand on.

I was so mad. So mad. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe them. It was the same shit I'd had to deal with when I'd first been nominated as Councilor. Except that time, it was the bureaucracy that was hamstringing me. This time, it's the people who I worked with. People who swore to protect our citizens. Who pledged to defend Piltover's principles.

And who are now acting like cowards, unwilling to do what's necessary.

I called them on it. In front of the entire assembly. I asked them where their courage had gone. Why they weren't fighting. Why they weren't even trying. Was this what Piltover was going to become? A society that allowed its greatest minds to be suborned? What the hell were they planning to do when the next inventor came under Silco's spell? Were they going to give up then, too?

The meeting ended shortly afterwards.

Mel tried to catch me in the hallway, but I was having none of it. She cornered me by the stairs. She wanted to know if I'd reconsider resigning. If we could talk.

I'll admit I was tempted. I haven't seen her since our split, and it's been hard. I miss her. It'd be nice to just hold her, even for a few minutes. To feel sane again. Safe. I know we can't rekindle things. Not with her position, and mine. But a hug, a kiss, some conversation...anything would've been good.

I turned her down.

I said we had nothing to discuss. That she'd made her position clear, and it was not one I agreed with. I asked her what the point of continuing the conversation was if we couldn't agree on the most fundamental matters. If we'd end up arguing over the same things again. I didn't have time for it. My focus had to be on Viktor. On finding a way to bring him home. And if she wasn't willing to help, then we had nothing else to talk about.

She told me I was being foolish. That I'd let my emotions blind me. That my stubbornness was going to be the death of me.

I told her I was fine with that. Because the alternative would be dying inside. That I wasn't willing to let Silco's take everything from me.

Especially not Viktor.

Cait, let's meet. Soon. We've got a lot to discuss. And I can't do this alone.

Jayce.

Cait—

This is going to be a quick one.

The Council and Zaun's Cabinet have arranged a summit. It's slated for next week. Silco is going to attend. We'll be discussing the terms for Viktor's return, and the repatriation of the Hexcore. Mel has been working to make it happen. It's the first sign of progress. It gives me hope. And it's a chance for me to confront Silco directly.

I'm not going to rest until Viktor's back where he belongs.

I'll ask Silco about Violet. I'll corner him in private, if I have to. I'm not sure how the two of them are connected. If they are, at all. But it can't hurt. And the more I can get him talking, the more opportunities I'll have to figure out what the hell is really going on. What he wants. And why.

I'll send a follow-up letter once I've got more information.

Stay strong. And, whatever happens, please don't lose faith. Piltover needs your courage. So do I.

Jayce.

Caitlyn,

I'm so sorry. I need to vent. Too much has happened.

Viktor's staying in Zaun.

So is the Hexcore.

Negotiations fell through. I don't know why. Silco showed up, and he was civil. More than that, actually. He was polite. He shook hands. He thanked the Council for reaching out, and expressed his appreciation at their willingness to compromise. He'd brought along his Deputy and a few members his Cabinet. They were well-dressed, professional. I was impressed. I was relieved. I'd come prepared to do battle, but he seemed determined to cooperate.

Then it all went to shit.

Cait, I can't explain it. But the whole thing felt... staged. Like Silco already knew how it was going to end. Like the Council had already signed off on some private deal, and were simply going through the motions. Mel opened with the usual pleasantries. She asked Silco about his health. His administration. His relationship with Zaun's citizens.

The latter question was a nod to me. A subtle signal that she was leaving the floor open for me to address him.

I did. I'd been preparing for weeks. I'd even gone over my questions with some of the other Councilors. They'd all agreed that the issue had to be addressed. If the Council was serious about building diplomatic ties, and creating a sustainable rapport with Zaun, then Silco's conduct had to be taken seriously. And he couldn't be given an inch.

He needed to be confronted.

So, as soon as the pleasantries were finished, I asked him what his plans were for the Hexcore. For the Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative. Why, if he was a man of the people, was he taking a magical relic that was potentially volatile out of our control? How was it serving his citizens, or the people who'd been entrusted to his care? How was it serving his principles?

And, most importantly, where the hell was Viktor, and what the hell was his game?

Silco smiled.

The bastard actually smiled.

Then he showed me a letter, in Viktor's handwriting, addressed to the Council. It stated that, because of his deteriorating health, he'd chosen to relocate back home. He wrote that there was only so much treatment the doctors at Piltover could provide. Eventually, he'd need more intensive care. And, as a Zaunite, he was entitled access to the physician of his choosing.

His physician was Colin Reveck.

Singed.

Apparently, if Viktor's letter was to be believed, Singed had known Viktor for years. As a chemist, he had a keen understanding of the disease affecting Viktor's lungs. And he'd been working with him on an experimental treatment. That was the reason Shimmer was in Viktor's bloodstream.

It was an integral part of the therapy. Without it, he'd have died long ago.

Silco also presented records of his conversations with Viktor, during which Viktor had confessed to feeling ostracized in Piltover. To having been made to feel bypassed, not only by the Council, but by his own peers.

By me.

Sky's disappearance had hit him hard, and the strain of maintaining his career and his health had left him emotionally depleted. He'd been forced to make a choice, and he'd chosen life.

He'd chosen Zaun.

I demanded proof. I said there was no way Viktor would write a letter like that. That there was no way he'd willingly choose to work with someone like Singed. He'd always despised putting morality aside for progress. He'd never approved of using animals as test subjects. Or people. I accused Silco of lying. Of blackmailing Viktor, or worse.

Silco showed me a photo.

I'll spare you the worse details. It was Viktor, yes. Definitely him. But the man in the picture looked nothing like my friend. He was... augmented. All over. He had metal plates across his face. There are mechanical appendages in place of his hands. There's gears, and cogs, and wires, on his torso. His throat is encased in a tube, and there is an equalizer outfitted to his chest.

Even his eyes are different. They're no longer his natural color. They're yellow and black. Like hazard lights.

And they glow.

Cait, it was like something out of a nightmare. He looked—he looked like an automaton. Like a cyborg. It wasn't a person anymore. It was a machine. Something created by a mad scientist, and brought to life by evil sorcery.

The timestamp on the photo was two weeks ago. When Viktor was first reported missing. That meant that, between then and now, Viktor had undergone a terrible transformation.

He'd become something inhuman.

Cait, I've known Viktor for years. I've known him better than anyone. But right then, I didn't recognize him. Not even a little bit. And, when I looked up at Silco, I saw him watching me. Watching the horror in my face. Smiling.

Smiling like the Devil himself.

I could've hit him. I would've hit him. Right then and there. But the Councilors intervened. Their security pulled me back. Mel tried to talk me down, but I was too furious. I couldn't believe what I'd seen. I couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to show it. To shove it in our faces. I couldn't believe the Viktor he'd shown me was real.

But it was.

The photograph's been vetted. It's the real deal. So is Viktor's signature. His handwriting hasn't changed. It's been matched to several official documents. His letter, which was accompanied by a medical report from Singed, has also been examined. And, while we've been unable to corroborate its contents, the letter itself has passed a rigorous authenticity test.

Viktor is alive.

And he's staying in Zaun. Under Silco's care.

He's been provided an apartment, a generous stipend, and a state-of-the-art lab. He's been placed in charge of an expanding Hex and chem-tech research division, and given a team of assistants. He's been granted unrestricted access to Zaun's medical facilities for his treatment, and all the resources necessary to conduct his experiments.

All of which are in collaboration with Singed.

There's nothing we can do, Cait. Absolutely nothing. Silco's got him locked in a golden cage. He's using Viktor's genius to advance his agenda, and the fact that he's been augmented is proof that he's not above forcing him into compliance.

Viktor's a casualty. And we're the ones who lost him.

It's all my fault.

They've scheduled a forty-five-minute recess. We'll take a break, then resume for the next session. After that, there'll be a dinner. And more discussions. I can't. I just can't. This is all wrong. Everything. My best friend is gone. Mel and I are no longer together. And the Council. They've failed. Failed us. Failed the city. Failed Viktor.

And something tells me it's going to get a whole lot worse.

Cait, please be patient. I still need to ask Silco about Violet. And I'll do everything I can. You have my word.

Jayce.

Cait—

The summit's over. Silco and his people have left.

And good riddance. I never want to see his rotten face again.

Cait, the whole thing was a sham. A total sham. From beginning to end. Nothing meaningful came out of the meetings. Silco didn't answer a single question. The Council wouldn't hold him to account. Instead, they started discussing the crisis as if it was a business merger. As if it was some kind of deal to be brokered, and a mutually beneficial arrangement to be made.

Silco had the gall to suggest a compromise. He said that Viktor, as a Zaunite, should be allowed to continue his research on the Hexcore. In return, the Council will be permitted to oversee his future Hextech projects. Both cities will collaborate to conduct a monthly audit via a joint Oversight Committee. They'd guarantee a set number of patents, and a share of the profits, and even provide funding for further innovations.

I argued that this was unacceptable. It would give the Council no actual leverage, and would only make them complicit in Viktor's subjugation. That they'd be signing a blank check. And that, by working with Silco, we'd be condoning his crimes.

The Council said nothing. They didn't support me. They didn't even try.

Mel agreed with Silco.

I couldn't believe it. I still can't believe it, Cait. She sided with him. With him!

She said the Council had to think long-term, and that, if we wanted peace, we needed to start acting like the world leaders we claimed to be. She pointed to the economic benefits, and the opportunities the new alliance could create. She reminded everyone that Viktor was a free man, and that he was the one who'd made the decision.

As far as she was concerned, it was his right.

I was outraged. I told her this wasn't the time for political theater or corporate speak. This was a human being's life we were talking about. And Viktor wasn't free. He was a hostage. If the Council really wanted to serve their citizens, they'd stand up to Silco. They'd demand the repatriation of the Hexcore. Then they'd demand Viktor's release.

And they'd use every means possible to get him back.

Then Silco dropped a bombshell.

He said, as thanks for the Council's cooperation in facilitating Viktor's "return" to Zaun, he'd make a gesture of goodwill. He'd draft legislation to outlaw the production of Shimmer as a narcotic, and to ban its distribution for recreational purposes. And, to prove his intentions were sincere, he'd have the new law approved by a vote, and the legislation made public. Only medicinal uses, he stressed, would remain legal.

The Council, he went on to suggest, could enact a blanket embargo on Shimmer's importation. Points of entry would be monitored, and Piltover would take steps to crack down on illegal trafficking. It would send a message to Piltover's allies, that Zaun was serious about pursuing the path of legitimacy. And that its partnership with Piltover was a symbol of that intent.

I was shocked.

So was Mel. And the rest of the Council. This wasn't what anyone had been expecting. This wasn't the Silco we'd known. He was offering to put himself in our debt. To cut ties with the illegal drug trade, and to allow the Council the opportunity to enforce sanctions against bad actors.

It was a major concession. It would effectively eliminate a key revenue stream in Silco's operation, and cripple the underworld's most valuable market.

Cait, I'll admit it.

I didn't see the trap until it was too late.

Silco doesn't need to distribute Shimmer within his city anymore. Because he's got the Hexcore. And it's capable of making breakthroughs in science and magic, beyond anything we've ever known. He's got some of the world's greatest innovators under his thumb. The only limits are their imaginations.

With the fruits of their labor—and the Council's backing—investors will flock to Zaun. Capital will pour in. The city will grow. Its economy will flourish.

No drugs needed.

I was the only one who spoke out against it. I felt like a complete jerk. But I had to state my case. I argued that the Council had to consider the risks. That we couldn't trust Silco, no matter how immaculately he dressed up his proposal. Who was to say he wouldn't take the Council's investment and put it into other ventures? What if he began funneling the investors' coin, and used it to finance bioweapons? What if he turned Zaun into an armory, right under Piltover's feet?

And, even if he did give up the drug trade, what about his human trafficking? His smuggling? The brothels, and the illegal casinos, and the underground fighting pits?

What about his ties to organized crime?

The Council dismissed my concerns.

They were eager. Eager to shake hands. Eager to sign on the dotted line. Eager to move forward.

The deal, Mel explained, would be the cornerstone of a lasting relationship between Zaun and Piltover. The Council's approval was vital. It would lend a stamp of legitimacy to Zaun's new order. And, she stated, it was the only way to avoid future conflict.

I was disgusted.

She was trying to sell the summit as a success. Like we hadn't given up a critical piece of our national defense, and put it into the hands of a foreign dictator. Like Silco hadn't blackmailed Viktor, or taken advantage of his illness, or exploited his vulnerability. Like he wasn't an abusive tyrant who ruled by fear, and murdered in cold blood.

Like he hadn't just gotten away with everything.

Cait, I can't tell you what happened. I don't have the words. I was angry. So, so angry. And disappointed. With the Council. With Mel. With myself. I couldn't stand to be there a moment longer.

So I walked out.

After the summit, I waited to catch Silco in the lobby. He was heading towards his limo. There were no security personnel. Just him and his Deputy Chancellor and a blackguard. He was smoking a cigar, and strolling like a man with all the time in the world.

I didn't say a word. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed him and pinned him against the wall.

I told him he had a choice. Either he could hand over Viktor and the Hexcore, or I'd beat the truth out of him.

The bastard smiled. He smiled at me.

Then he said, "Pet."

Someone grabbed me from behind. An arm went around my throat. A hand wrenched my elbow behind my back. I struggled, but couldn't break free. The grip was like iron. I half-turned, expecting to see Silco's Deputy. It was the blackguard.

Cait...

It was Violet.

She was in a full-on bodyguard get-up. Black suit. Black shirt. Black visor. Black boots. Her was cropped short, and she'd gained muscle. She looked lean, and hard, and strong.

Like a soldier.

She didn't say a word. She kept me in a sleeper hold, until the Deputy arrived with security. I don't know how many Councilors saw me in that position. I don't know what they must've been thinking, or what they must’ve been saying.

I was seeing stars. I was dizzy. I could barely breathe.

Then Silco said, "Drop him."

Violet obeyed.

When I came to, I was on my knees. My neck hurt. My arm hurt. My head was pounding. It was hard to focus. Then two steel-tipped boots materialized in my line of sight. I looked up, and there was Silco, staring down at me.

He was calm. Collected. Completely at ease.

"You'll have to forgive her," he said. "She's still being trained."

Cait, he knew.

He knew I'd ask him about Violet. He knew you'd placed inquiries looking for her. He knew we were concerned for her wellbeing.

So he'd had her accompany him to the summit, as a deliberate provocation.

He was taunting us both.

"I'd advise you, as a personal favor, to not try this again," he said. "If you do, you may find the outcome... less forgiving."

I told him to go fuck himself.

I think he smiled. It's hard to remember.

With a fingertip, he gestured Violet over. She came. I'll never forget that. The way she obeyed. Without hesitation. Without question. Not once did she acknowledge my presence. I still remember when I'd drop by for tea sometimes at your flat, and she'd scowl when she saw me. Or roll her eyes. Or say, "Oh, look. Pretty-Boy's here."

There was none of that. Nothing. Just total silence.

Total obedience.

Then Silco took her by the chin.

"There's a good girl," he said, and stroked her cheek.

It made my skin crawl.

I told myself it was because of Silco. Since the Siege, I'd been looking into his past, and there's enough material in the dossiers to turn your blood to icewater. I can't imagine the psychic price of serving that monster. I can't even imagine the pressure of being a blackguard at his beck-and-call.

I told myself it was the thought of Violet at his mercy, night after night. I told myself it was because she'd lost her autonomy. That she was trapped. That she was under duress.

I told myself that's why my gut was churning.

I'm sorry, Cait.

That's not the truth.

The truth is, I wasn't scared of Silco.

I was scared of Violet.

No—I was terrified.

Cait—there was a look in her eyes. I don't know how to describe it. A coldness, almost. Like she wasn't seeing me, or the Deputy, or anyone. Only Silco. She didn't flinch when he touched her. She didn't even blink. She was completely unmoved. Like a soldier on the parade ground.

Like a weapon waiting to open fire.

The limo pulled up. Silco and his Deputy got inside. I remember Vi holding the door open for them. And I remember her turning, one last time, to look at me.

There was nothing in her face. No emotion. No recognition. No regret.

Just empty.

Then she got inside, and the door swung shut. They drove off.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Cait, it's all I can think about. How different she looks. How hard she seems. And that stare. That terrifying, horrible stare.

What the hell did Silco do to her?

Cait, I'm coming to visit. We have a lot to talk about.

Jayce

Cait—

I have news.

Big news.

After I left your flat, I went straight home. A courier had just dropped a missive off at my place.

It was from the Wardens.

Their theory on Viktor being responsible for Sky's disappearance is crumbling. Despite their suspicions that Viktor was the last man to see her, their investigation has been unable to locate a single shred of evidence.

Viktor's laboratory is clean. No fingerprints, no signs of foul play, no indication of a struggle. Even the cameras, which the Wardens have accessed using a subpoena, showed no signs of her leaving with him. Her clothes, and belongings, were still inside the building. And her bike was still parked outside.

They're still not sure how she vanished. It's like she was swallowed up by a black hole.

As for the DNA—a secondary lab test revealed it was a mistake. Just a case of cross-contamination. They'd mistaken an old sample from a previous search in Sky's apartment. The report had gotten mixed up with Viktor's case file. The mistake had been made by an intern, who'd mislabeled a sample, and the senior investigators had simply repeated the error.

All in all, it was a complete botch-up.

The evidence is circumstantial. There's nothing that implicates Viktor.

For now, they've dropped charges.

I should be thankful. I know Viktor hasn't committed any crimes, and there's no concrete evidence of his guilt. It was a stretch to accuse him of involvement in Sky's disappearance.

But now there's a nagging doubt in the back of my mind. The timing's too convenient. First the Council caves to Zaun, and lets Viktor remain as Silco's prisoner. Now the Wardens have decided, of their own accord, not to press charges.

It makes no sense.

Worse, my own mind's playing tricks on me. I keep replaying the night Sky was reported missing. How distraught Viktor was. How he could barely speak. Barely look at me. He was a wreck, and I believed his distress was sincere. I'd told the Wardens, time and again, that there was no way Viktor had done anything to harm Sky.

I'd vouched for him.

Now, though...now, I'm not so sure.

The thing is, we still don't have all the facts from that night. Sky was last seen exiting her office at eight o' clock. The cameras see her walking down the main corridor. Then, at nine thirty, her assistant goes in to check on her, and finds her gone. Her bike's still there. Her street clothes are still on the rack. All her possessions are still inside.

But no Sky.

Where the hell did she go?

The cameras don't show her exiting the building. Which means she must still be in there. Except there's no trace of her. None.

Then it hit me.

The Hex-lab—mine and Viktor's workspace—had no cameras. A security camera had been installed, but Viktor had requested it be removed. He'd said, and I quote, "We are scientists. Our work necessitates a degree of privacy." It was part of our terms with the Council, and an addendum to our patent agreement. The lab would be kept off-limits, except to those involved with the project.

Viktor, Sky, and I were the only one who had the keycard.

And Viktor was the only person in the lab that night.

Caitlyn—I'm worried. It's possible I've made a terrible mistake. I've been so fixated on finding Viktor, I haven't stopped to ask myself why. Why would Viktor disappear without a word? Why would he take all his notes, abandon his post, and go into hiding? Why wouldn't he ask me for help? Or at least leave a note?

I've been thinking—what if he doesn't want to be found?

What if something bad happened between him and Sky? Something so terrible, he had no choice but to run?

Cait, please—help me figure this out.

Your friend,

Jayce.

Cait,

I had a fight with Mel.

I'm ashamed to say it. To be honest, it's embarrassing. I've never raised my voice at her before. Or sworn at her. Or, frankly, behaved like such a prick.

Here's what happened.

After my talk with you, I went straight to her penthouse. I was in a bad place. I'd hit the bar—awful idea, I know—and then gone for a walk. It was raining. I ended up in one of the city's parks. It's near her place. I sat on a bench and tried to get my thoughts together. Everything—why Viktor could've left, why Sky might've disappeared, why the Council were so willing to negotiate with Silco—was running through my head.

I just wanted to talk. I wanted a friend. I wanted her.

Cait—you told me how hard it's been since Violet left. How much you've been hurting. Not the everyday stuff. I know about that. But it's the other things, too. Like how you don't feel like yourself anymore. Like there's something hollow in you, that only she can fill. And nights are the worst. You miss the closeness. You miss the warmth.

And, Gods help me, the sex.

That's the part I miss the most. I can't tell you how many times I've woken up at night, dreaming about Mel, and I've had to stop myself from calling her up at four o'clock in the morning.

It's hard, Cait. Being apart. It's really hard.

I know how you feel. So you'll understand perfectly why I went to see Mel. I know we broke things off. I know it was my decision. And, no, I didn't expect us to pick up where we'd left off.

I just wanted someone to talk to.

Before I knew it, I was at her penthouse. I was soaked, and cold, and drunk. It was the middle of the night. But the doorman recognized me. He let me in, and called ahead to let her know.

She was waiting for me.

I'll never forget how she looked, Cait. She was wearing a silk robe. One of my favorites: all white lace and gold brocade. Her hair was loose, and it smelled like hyacinths. You know, I've never told you this, but I used to comb Mel's hair before bed. I wasn't very good at it. Sometimes I'd end up pulling too hard. But she'd smile, each time, and show me the trick to gently working through the knots. She'd kiss my hands. Then she'd kiss me.

Then—

Well, I think you know.

Seeing her again. Seeing her so soft, and warm, and lovely. It took my breath away.

It took everything.

Cait, I'm not going to lie. We ended up in bed. She said she'd missed me. And, damn it, I'd missed her. So much.

So very, very much.

I can't say I don't love her. How can I not? She's smart, and gorgeous, and funny. She's passionate. She's fearless. And I admire her. She has a way of commanding a room, but also of making every single person feel heard. She makes me feel heard. When I talk to her, I feel like I can say anything. Do anything. Be anything.

I needed that. I needed her.

She felt the same.

It was beautiful. Intimate. Wonderful. Sure at first, we were both a little awkward, and clumsy, and I'd forgotten to shave the past few days. But, after a few minutes, we were like two people who'd never left each other. Two people who'd never been apart.

Two people in love.

When we finished, we held each other. Then she kissed my cheek, and whispered in my ear, "Jayce, darling... you're home."

And, Cait, it felt like it. Like I'd finally come home.

It's not until after I'd showered, and was heading back into the bedroom, that the doubts crept in. Those nagging little doubts. Things I'd pushed down. Things I didn't want to confront. Like how the Council and Silco seemed to be on the same page in advance. Like how they were giving him carte blanche to exploit a man's genius, and use it for their own gains.

Like how Mel, out of everyone, seemed to know exactly what Silco was thinking.

Like she was expecting it.

I slipped back into bed with Mel, and I held her. Still, the questions came in my head. They came quietly, at first. Softly. Then, as the silence between us grew, they began to gain volume. Until I was sure she could hear them too.

Then I asked her the question.

"Why didn't you fight?"

At first, she pretended not to understand. So I said it again, louder.

"Why didn't you fight, Mel? Why didn't the Council?"

She turned. She was looking at me. Searching my face.

"You had a chance," I told her. "You could've fought for Viktor. You could've fought for me. Why didn't you?"

There was a long silence.

"I didn't have a choice," she said.

"Bullshit."

"It's the truth. I didn't. Jayce—you don't understand. There's more at stake than just the Hexcore. It's a small piece of a bigger issue. That issue being—how can we maintain our peace with Zaun. You have to understand. It's not only about your friend."

"Viktor. His name is Viktor."

"Viktor, yes. But we need to think of the whole picture. It's not just him. It's our trade agreements. It's our economic stability. It's our reputation as a city. As the City of Progress."

"So it's not important, what's happening to him. Because he's not a Piltovan, he's expendable."

"That's not what I'm saying. Please. Don't twist my words."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that a single man, or his personal rights, cannot eclipse the good of a city. You've been obsessed. You've been chasing shadows, instead of addressing the real problems."

"Like the Council selling out their best innovator to a dictator."

For the first time, her eyes disconnected from mine. "He isn't a dictator."

"Isn't he? What do you call someone who murders his way to the top, and uses his power to enslave his citizens?"

"We've held discussions, Silco and I. He wants prosperity for his city. Freedom for his people. I want the same for ours. To achieve that, we must compromise on certain issues. He's no model of merciful leadership, I grant you. But he's a pragmatic man. A visionary. Someone who can bring lasting change."

"He's a monster."

"Jayce. Darling. Your anger blinds you. I know he's committed terrible crimes. And yes, we've made deals that neither of us is pleased with. But, in the end, the outcome is worth the price. Our cities will grow together. We'll create a lasting, sustainable peace."

"At the cost of my best friend'."

"Viktor chose to leave. It's his right."

"Only because he had no choice. He couldn't stay in Piltover. Not with the Wardens falsely accusing him."

"Jayce—" A shadow fell across her face. "Please. Stop. This isn't getting us anywhere. Can't you see that? If you keep on fighting, you're only going to make things worse."

"Worse for who? The Council?"

"For Viktor. And... for you."

There was something in her eyes. Something... dark. Almost desperate.

"Please, Jayce. You need to trust me. I have your best interests at heart. I've been working to protect you. You've no idea the things I've—" She cut herself off.

I asked her what she was talking about. I asked her what the hell was going on.

That's when she told me.

Cait, the Warden's investigation? Mel is the one who called it off. Not because of inconclusive evidence. Not because of the waste of resources. Not because the security camera footage was inconclusive.

She called it off, because the Wardens had irrefutable proof that Viktor had killed Sky.

It wasn't just the fact that he was the last man to see Sky alive. Or the fact that she was last seen near the corridor to the Hex-lab.

It was the fact that, in the lab itself, they found Sky.

Or rather, her bone dust.

It was everywhere. Motes of it, on the floor. On the chairs. On the workbench. Someone had tried to clean it up, but not thoroughly. Not enough to remove the residue. And the forensics team had been able to confirm, using chemical analysis, that the samples were mixed with Viktor's DNA.

His, and no one else's.

The Wardens were set to launch an arrest warrant. Then Mel had intervened.

"It would've been a disaster," she told me. "A disaster for him. A disaster for Zaun. And for us. I had no choice, Jayce. None."

I was shocked. My brain couldn't comprehend what she was saying. It was impossible. Viktor wasn't a murderer. He couldn't be. He just couldn't.

I asked her if Silco knew.

She admitted that he did. He was the one, in fact, who'd tipped the Wardens off. Apparently, a remark Viktor had made during a conversation with his Deputy Chancellor had caught Silco's attention. He'd sent a blackguard to Viktor's lab, on the pretext of collecting leftover notes. During a search, the blackguard found traces of bone dust. He collected the sample and turned it over to the Wardens.

There were no signs of tampering. The evidence was months old. And it was damning.

"I can't believe this." I whispered.

Mel put her arms around me. She held me tight.

"Jayce," she said. "I'm sorry. Silco and I—we decided that the best thing would be for Viktor to remain in Zaun. For the charges to be dropped. So long as he confines his work to the Fissures, he'll have complete freedom. But should he return to Piltover..."

She didn't finish.

She didn't need to.

Cait, the Council and Silco. They've conspired against Viktor. Against both of us. They're letting him remain in Zaun, so that he can continue his research on the Hexcore. But, should he return, he'll be arrested.

And I'll be forced to testify.

It was too much. The idea that my best friend could be a killer. The fact that Mel knew. That she'd been complicit. The betrayal, by the Council, who'd gone along with it all. The duplicity. The corruption.

It was just too much.

I couldn't stop myself. I lost control. I leapt out of bed. I shouted. I called her a liar. I asked her how she could do it. How she could let him stay, and put him in danger. How she could be so calculating. So cold.

So much like... Silco.

She didn't answer. She was crying. I've never seen Mel cry. Never.

And, Gods help me, I didn't care.

Cait, I stormed out of her flat. I left her there, in tears.

I can't go back. I can't forgive her. I can't forgive myself.

I'm writing you now from a bar. It's three o' clock in the morning. I can't go home. I can't bear to sleep. I can't stop thinking. About the summit. About Mel. About Viktor.

About the future.

Cait, please help.

I'm lost.

Jayce

Jayce—

Destroy this message the minute you read it. You're being monitored.

Your apartment is being watched.

Your office, too.

I know, because so is mine.

Silco knows you're trying to make contact with Viktor. He knows I'm trying to reach out to Vi. The only reason he's permitted you to communicate with me is to bait a trap. I've gone back and deleted every missive I've written to you. Do the same. You need to watch your back. If the Wardens find out you've been trying to make contact with a suspected killer, it's not just your career.

It's your freedom.

You're a private citizen now. They won't hesitate to arrest you. And I won't be able to stop them.

Jayce, this is serious.

You're a hero. You're the face of Hextech. You've changed the world. You can't afford to throw it away. If you get caught, it'll be catastrophic.

Please. I'm begging you. You have to stop.

We can't contact each other via missive. Not until I can figure a way out of this.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn,

Don't worry. I won't put you in danger. I've found a workaround. I've created a secure channel, which will allow us to correspond without being intercepted. I've also modified the pneumatic tubes. It will take some time, but I can rig a system, which will ensure the messages are delivered directly to your desk.

I need a favor.

Your department has access to the Warden's database. How high is your clearance? Can you get access to their records on Sky? I'd like to have a look at their files.

I'll explain when I see you.

Jayce

Jayce,

I got in.

Here are the files.

Hurry. I don't know how long the clearance will last.

Cait

Cait—

Thank you.

This is incredible. You're amazing.

I've been reading through the records. It's difficult, because a lot of stuff has been redacted. But I've managed to piece together the timeline of Sky's disappearance. It's hard to believe, but the case has been open since the day she went missing. It's bigger than the Wardens let on to the Council.

There's more here than I expected.

According to the records, the Wardens were already investigating Viktor. He'd been placed on their Watch List, under suspicion of having ties with the Undercity's chemists. It was a flimsy pretext, and he wasn't a suspect. Just a person of interest.

They were tracking his movements, to see if he had any known associates belowground.

Then Sky was killed.

By now, I know she was killed. It's hard to watch. There's security footage, from the night she went missing. It's in black-and-white, and it's grainy. You can see Sky, exiting her office, and walking down the main hall. She's still in her lab coat, with her notes under her arm. Her hair's up, but her ponytail's slipping. She's got a smile on her face, and a spring in her step.

It's strange, Cait. But I can tell, even though she's just a shadow on the screen… she's happy.

She's going to see Viktor.

I know she's going to see Viktor, because the security cameras are tracking her movements. And they show her walking down the main hallway, past my office, and into the stairwell. From there, she goes to the third floor. The cameras lose her there. There's no coverage inside the Hex-lab.

It has no cameras, remember.

But something happens six minutes later. There's a—a fluctuation, almost. In the video. The image blurs. It's like the camera's glitching.

Except it's not the camera.

Cait, I've seen that fluctuation before.

It's a Hex-field.

I can tell because, while the image distorts, the edges of the hallway remain sharp. Which means the field's expanding outward, in a dome pattern, from a central source. The source, in question, is the Hexcore.

It's been activated.

I've checked the timeline. The hex-field is only active for a few seconds. Then it's gone.

But Sky never returns.

I've been over the footage a hundred times. And the conclusion's always the same.

Sky entered the lab. She met Viktor. Then he killed her.

Why, I can't say. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was something else. The point is, her remains were never found. Only traces of her bones.

I've got to find him, Cait. I've got to talk to him.

I've got to understand what happened.

Jayce

Cait—

It's a trap.

You were right.

I did something stupid. I didn't think. I took a risk, and it's backfired.

I went into Zaun. I had no formal dispensation; no notarized travel pass; no clearance from the Council. I was, effectively, trespassing on foreign soil.

I didn't care.

I was going to find Viktor. I needed answers on what had happened. I wasn't going to let him stay down there, hiding from what he'd done. I was going to make him tell the truth. Then, maybe, we could figure out how to fix this mess.

So, in the middle of the night, I armed myself with my hammer. I went down to the harbor. I was careful to avoid the usual checkpoints you'd told me about. I headed for a small, out-of-the-way pier, where the patrols were less frequent. I'd borrowed a friend's boat. It was small, and not the fastest, but it's quiet. I managed to sneak past the harbor's first buoys.

Then, I crossed the border.

Zaun's different now.

I remember the last time I was in the Fissures to get supplies. Back before the Siege. It was rundown. It was rancid. The streets were in disrepair. The people were sullen. There was poverty and sickness, and a sense of despair.

Things have changed.

The Promenade's undergone a transformation. It's like a state-of-the-art motherboard framed in multicolored neon. They've repaired the streets, and the buildings are lit up like stars. They're clean. Pristine. Even the air smells different. Less acrid.

It's almost... pleasant.

It was late, but the shops were open. The crowds were out in full-force. They were mingling in the plazas, drinking at the bars, dancing in the squares. I passed an upscale club, and there was a line snaking all the way around the block. There were people of all classes and creeds, and they were dressed up, and celebrating.

Like it was a holiday.

I couldn't believe it. After everything that monster's done, the people of Zaun are out, and living it up, like it's the greatest carnival in the world. Like they're grateful. Grateful to have Silco in charge.

Cait, it's surreal.

It's as if, after years of fear, they're finally free. Not only free from Piltover's control—from its judgment, its oppression, its prejudice. It's like they're free in their souls. They're happy. Joyous.

But I can't shake the feeling that they're in a trance. As if, with the bright lights and poppy colors, Silco is hypnotizing them. He'd holding them in thrall, so they'll worship him, and not notice the bodies he's left in his wake.

That's how I felt, walking through the Promenade. Like I was following a parade of automatons, fueled on sensory ecstasy.

I tried talking to a few passersby, and they seemed nice. Friendly.

Some of them, too friendly.

I'm not sure how, but they knew I was a Topsider. A couple of them offered to give me directions. Others were eager to buy me drinks. A few asked if I'd like a dance.

One thing's for certain: they're much more welcoming now. Like, now that Zaun's nearabouts Piltover's equal, bygones can be bygones, and no one cares about a bit of old history.

I wasn't there to debate history, though. I was there to find Viktor.

I asked a few of the locals if they'd heard of him. It didn't seem to ring any bells, though a few said he sounded familiar. Then I mentioned he'd worked on Hex-tech, and a chorus rose up.

"Oh! The Machinist!"

That's what they call him in Zaun. They've forgotten his name. Or maybe they don't care.

What matters is that he's terraforming the urban landscape. Changing the city. Bringing the Fissures up to par. Creating a new Zaun, and building it up from ground-zero

I was shocked. He's already begun work? It's only been a few weeks.

But it's true. Apparently, Silco has put him in charge of a full-scale revitalization project. He's using the Hexcore to create new infrastructural designs. Changing the way the city is laid out, and making the Fissures over from a mud-hole into a metropolis. He has a whole team of engineers, and an entourage of blackguards. Every week, they're working on a new layer of the city.

A fresh coat of paint, if you will.

This week, they were overhauling the turbines. The next, the power grid. The one after that, the sewage system. By the time the Expo's begun, Zaun will be a chromed-up paradise.

And Silco will be lauded as its liberator.

The irony.

I was told he'd be working on the turbines this week, and to head toward the eastside. So, that's where I went.

The zone was a hive of activity. Tremors from power-drills under my feet; sparks from welding torches in the air; bodies swarming over scaffoldings. It looked like a small army had been drafted, and was working their hands to the bone. The entire sector had been cordoned off.

The turbines stood on platforms, towering over the street. They were colossal works-in-progress: rivets the size of hubcaps, steel girders dense as concrete blocks, pistons the width of my chest. They were astonishing, Cait. The scale of them was unreal. Their alloy-shelled interiors seemed to be a combination of metallurgical compounds and Fissure-seam crystals, the two meshed together into a seamless matrix with a shimmery-green tint.

There were runes, too.

Hex-runes.

They were inscribed all over the turbines. And, judging by the way the technicians were treating them, they weren't simply decorative. They were a critical component of the new design.

I'd never seen anything like it.

I couldn't help but admire Viktor's work. He'd done all this in less than a month. Except it wasn't just him. Here and there, I saw a familiar monkey motif scrawled into the blueprints, or decorating the turbine's frame.

It was Jinx's signature.

It hit me, then, like a gut punch. Viktor hadn't done this alone. Jinx was collaborating with him. Her notes were scattered throughout the designs. This wasn't a solitary operation with a spur-of-the-moment breakthrough. This was a joint venture, between two rogue agents. One that must have been in the works for months.

Or longer.

I felt a chill go down my spine.

Silco had likely planned this—this coup—from the moment of the Peace Treaty.

And there was no telling what he had planned next.

Cait, I had to stop him. I had to find Viktor.

I asked a few technicians if they'd seen him. I was directed to the south end. I didn't have a plan. All I knew was that I had to find him. Confront him. Demand an explanation.

Then I saw him.

He stood in the middle of the mayhem, directing the crew. At first glance, he seemed the same. Same height. Same build. Same accent. But that was a trick of the eye. Like my memory was a distorting medium, and my mind had supplanted an old image onto a new reality.

Because, when he turned, it was like he'd been replaced by someone else.

Someone I barely recognized.

He seemed taller, somehow. His movements were more fluid; his stiffness less pronounced. He didn't walk. He glided. The balls of his feet seemed to float a bare millimeter above the ground, as if the air itself was propelling him forward. And the way he carried himself, with such confident assurance—it was like his world had expanded, in the span of a few weeks, from a sickbed to a stage.

That's when I noticed his cane was different.

It wasn't the ergonomic model he'd designed for himself, as his mobility declined. This was a prong-tipped rod, polished black, with a barb at the base. Like a javelin. It was a definite case of function over form. No aesthetic appeal. No concession to comfort.

Just a weapon.

But, Cait, that's not what unnerved me the most.

That was Viktor himself.

Because he wasn't Viktor. He was some unnervingly close approximation dressed in patches of Viktor's skin, with steel seams running through the missing spots. His skull, torso and limbs are half-cybernetic. The right leg—the one that 'never behaved' as he'd sometimes put it—has been replaced with a mechanical prosthesis. It's got a titanium exoskeleton, and a carbon-fiber frame, and a hydraulic heel. The knee's a ball joint. The thigh's an articulated piston. It's like a work of art. The most horrifying work of art you could imagine.

But it's not just his leg.

His right hand—the one he'd taken to wearing a glove on—is now a four-fingered steel claw. It's hinged at the wrist, and the phalanges are articulated, and the palm's been fitted with a projectile port.

I know, because I watched him fire it.

It was a blackguard, one of the many onsite. The guy was being a dick. He was bullying some of the workers, and shouting at them, and generally harassing everyone within earshot.

Then Viktor walked up, and calmly ordered him to stand down.

The blackguard laughed.

Viktor didn't hesitate. He didn't say a word. He lifted a hand. The steel palm opened, and the projectile port spun, and the muzzle flared, and a blast of hot green light shot out, and blasted a hole straight through the guy's sleeve. It must have singed his skin, too, because the blackguard let out a howl.

Then he fell to his knees, groveling apologies.

Viktor, with terse instructions to the rest of the crew, turned, and left.

I couldn't believe it.

He'd shot at a man.

Without flinching. Without pausing to consider the consequences. Without even acknowledging the guy's pain.

He'd changed, Cait.

The Viktor I knew was gentle. He had a self-effacing slouch, an earnest smile, and an uncanny ability to see the best in people. He was always questioning, always second-guessing, always willing to learn.

This man was nothing like that.

This man was... hard.

As if the softness had been drained from him.

Just like Violet.

As he strode off, I was able to catch strains of conversation. Cait—his voice has changed completely. He's got an equalizer attached to his mouth, which runs on a small internal pump, and has an integrated voice modulator. It's the reason his accent's less pronounced. His tone's deeper, too. It's more authoritative. More commanding.

Less human.

The rest of his face is the same as the photograph. There are sensors on his cheeks, and his jaw is augmented with a cybernetic clamp. Then there's the eyes. The sockets are lined with a copper alloy, and the lenses are bionic. No pupils; no sclera. Just two reflective orbs with a glowing core.

Golden and black. Like looking into a pair of glowing embers.

Except they're cold.

I followed him. He wasn't going far. There was a trailer nearby, where blueprints were spread out over a makeshift table. He stepped inside. I'd expected to see Jinx. I was sure she'd be there. After all, she was collaborating with him. She'd drawn up half the diagrams, and, by the looks of things, had helped him implement them, too.

But the trailer was empty.

Viktor was alone.

Then I realized Viktor knew I was there.

"Jayce," he said, without turning around. "You are trespassing."

His voice, even through the equalizer, was the same.

Except it wasn't.

It was cold, too.

"Viktor," I said. "We need to talk."

He still didn't turn. "If the blackguards find you, they will arrest you. And, should they do so, I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I don't care."

"You should."

"I know what happened to Sky."

There was a prolonged silence punctuated by the distant sound of power tools. Then, very slowly, he turned. Our eyes met, and even though every muscle and nerve ending in my body fought it, I couldn't stop myself from flinching at the totality of his transformation.

At the eerieness of it.

"Sky," he said, at last, "is gone"

"I know. She's dead. The Wardens found her bone-dust in your lab. You killed her."

"Jayce, you don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"I didn't kill her. Not in the way you think."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Viktor, you were the last person to see her alive. She was last seen near the Hex-lab. There are traces of her DNA mixed in with your own. What the fuck am I supposed to think?"

He said nothing. His breathing rasped like an iron file through the air. It was a strange, grating sound. His lungs, I understood, had been augmented, too. The extent of the mechanization, in such short a time-frame, couldn't be man-made.

Then I understood.

"Magic," I said.

He didn't answer.

"That's what happened, didn't it? You were using the Hexcore's magic. Not on tools. On yourself. And you didn't want anyone to know."

Still he said nothing.

"But it went wrong, didn't it? The Hexcore did something to her. She was in the lab, and something happened, and she got hurt. Badly. So badly that you had to dispose of her. And you thought, if you were careful, no one would ever find out. That you'd get away with it."

"Jayce—"

"Is that why you left? Because you were afraid of being caught? Dammit, Viktor, answer me!"

He looked at me, and the stare was preternaturally calm. But I could feel an intense heat cooking the air around him. He didn't raise his voice, or gesticulate, or make any move against me.

He kept on staring.

"Jayce," he said at last, "before I left Piltover, I was working on a theory. One involving the Hexcore. I had discovered that, with the right runic sequence, it was possible to channel its subatomic energies into living flesh. Through an organic compound as the catalyst, and the correct sequence as a stabilizer, the Hexcore's powers would no longer be tied to its physical matrix. We'd use it to augment living things. Restore damaged muscle. Heal sick tissue. Repair a faulty organ. Even..."

"What?"

"Prolong life."

Dazed, I shook my head. "Viktor, that's impossible. That level of transfiguration—"

"Can be achieved. All that's necessary is for the Hexcore to sustain the right frequency, at the correct resonance. A harmonic pattern, if you will."

"We tried, remember? We tried, with plants and fungi. We couldn't even manage to make a weed grow. The results crumbled, or rotted, or—"

"—died. Yes." His breath shivered like a metal grate in a storm. "That is because the runic sequence is incomplete. To channel the Hexcore's power, a keystone rune is needed. Something to anchor the harmonics. Act as the focus. Without it—"

"Viktor, please. You're not making any sense—"

"I was trying to extend life, Jayce!"

For the first time, the flat dial tone of his voice shifted. I heard, subaudible but discernible, a quaver of grief.

"Extend life," he whispered. "Not take it."

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. My breath came hot, nauseous. "You messed up. Didn't you?"

"Jayce—"

"You screwed up. Something went wrong. You did something to Sky. You killed her."

He gave a single jerky nod.

My guts turned over. The fear had been replaced with disgust. With anger. I couldn't stand to look at him. To see what he'd done.

What he'd become.

"Where's her body?" I demanded.

"It's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

He rubbed his jaw, the bones grinding side-to-side. It was old gesture. The one he'd make, whenever he was uncomfortable. Or guilty.

"It was consumed."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jayce, please. You must believe me. I—I did not intend for her to die. I did not even realize she was there until after—"

"After?"

The glow in his bionic eyes dimmed. "The Hexcore, when it opened, created a feedback loop. The catalyst in my blood was to be the sensor, absorbing the concentration of the energy's signals. The runes on my body were the integrating centers, the medium through which the feedback would be channelled. But—but there was not enough of one to balance the other."

I understood. "The Shimmer. That's why it was in your bloodstream. It interacts with the Hexcore's harmonics. Instead of destabilizing the resonance, it amplifies the feedback. It's what allows you to maintain a stable connection."

"Yes."

"And the runes. They're not for stabilization. They're for augmentation. For transmutation."

"Yes."

"And Sky? Where did she fit into all this?"

A strange darkness filmed Viktor's bionic eyes. "She was not meant to be there. I should have—should have locked the door. Should have—but no, I did not think. It was too much, the moment. The chance, too great. If it had worked—" He broke off. His head drooped, slowly, as if his neck was made of wires stretched too taut. "She was there. The Hexcore's field was activated. It took her."

"Took her."

"Blindly. As a mouth takes in food. She was trying to pull me away. She was saying my name. Viktor. Viktor. She did not understand." His cybernetic fingers flexed around his cane. "I could not stop it. Could not shut down the Hexcore. The energy—it was too strong. Too much."

"You're saying the Hexcore absorbed her?"

"Her flesh. Then her bones. Then her essence. Until nothing remained." His chest vibrated, like an engine winding down. "Nothing but dust."

A cold fist gripped my heart. I thought of the security footage. The fluctuation, and the blur. It hadn't been a camera glitch.

It had been the Hexcore.

"Viktor," I breathed. "My Gods."

His head remained bowed.

"This is why, isn't it? Why you asked me to destroy the Hexcore. You knew, then. Knew how powerful it was. How dangerous. You wanted me to shut it down."

"Destroy it," he whispered. "Yes. But that was before—"

"Before, what?"

"Sky. In her notes. She'd left me a—a message. Only, it was never intended for my eyes." He unstuck his jaw with effort, as if his teeth were glued together. As if the words themselves were too heavy to shape. "Sky was working on a project. One I'd encouraged. Every week, she would show me her findings. I would provide suggestions, or offer assistance, as needed. She was a brilliant researcher, Jayce. And unlike myself... she never forgot her roots."

I swallowed. It was hard, around the knot in my throat. "What—what was her project?"

"Life." The word was soft, almost reverent. "Here, in Zaun. She'd designed blueprints for a Hex-filtration plant. Something to purify the water. Sewage removal. Runoff collection. All to make the streets where she—where we both—grew up, safer. A habitable home for the people who needed it most."

"And now... you're building it."

"Yes."

"With Silco's blood money."

He lifted his head. The contours of his expression iced over; robotic, remote. "The blood money is the Council's. Silco is only the siphon."

"What—?"

"Or do you not hold the Councilors complicit in the Undercity's degradation?"

"That's not—"

"Not the same?" Something in his bionic eyes crackled. It could've been anger, or amusement, or a thousand other emotions, and I wouldn't have known the difference. "Tell me, Jayce. Why are you here?"

I was taken aback. "Because—because I needed to know the truth."

"You know the truth." The last humanity dissolved out of his voice, leaving a mechanical buzz. "You wanted to hold me accountable."

"If you'd killed Sky—"

"You've killed too, Jayce."

A stone lodged in my chest. It was cold. It was hard.

It was the truth.

Cait—only you, Violet and Mel know what I did. That night, at Silco's Shimmer factory. The boy caught in the crossfire. The boy who'd died because of my recklessness. I've lived with the memory of his face ever since. It's haunted me. Night and day. No matter how much I've tried to justify it. No matter how many good deeds I've done.

The fact is, I took a life.

And Viktor knew.

For so long, I'd kept it from him, out of shame but also fear. The fear of him judging me, as no different from the other Topsiders. The same ones who'd mistreated him as a boy; who'd buried his city under their refuse and left the people to rot. I was afraid, Cait, of him hating me. Of him realizing how little I deserved his friendship.

And now he did.

Silco, I thought, icy splinters of rage in my gut. He knew too.

He knew—and he'd used the knowledge to turn Viktor against me.

"Viktor," I began.

"Jayce." His voice was dead as the grave. "Do not."

"Look, please, I—"

"You should not have come. Your presence will be construed as hostile. There will be consequences."

"Then let's leave. Come back with me. I can protect you. The Council, they'll—"

"Forgive me?" His lips approximated a smile. "No. That, I think, will not happen."

"You can't stay here. Not under Silco's thumb. He's using you, Viktor. Using the Hexcore. You can't trust him. Can't you see?"

"I can. You cannot."

"Viktor—"

"I cannot return to Piltover, Jayce. My mistakes have made it impossible. I understand that." The mechanical ruthlessness returned to his voice. "You, in turn, must understand. I will not return, because of your own."

My entire axis tilted. I couldn't believe my ears. I was reeling.

"You—you don't mean that."

"I do."

"You'd really choose Silco, over Piltover?"

"I choose neither."

"But—HexCorp. Our research. Me. Us."

"I am sorry, Jayce."

And for the barest moment, the briefest heartbeat, his bionic eyes seemed wetly sheened. As if he was still human.

Then it was gone.

His cane tapped, twice.

A heartbeat later, blackguards melted from the darkest corners.

I counted four. They'd been posted all around. In the shadows.

Waiting for him to give the signal.

I knew, then, that I'd been set up.

Silco had goaded me into coming. He'd known I'd confront Viktor, and Viktor would reveal what had happened to Sky. Then the blackguards would appear, and there'd be arrest warrants. Public censure. Tarnished reputations.

All the while, Viktor would remain in Zaun, free to pursue his work.

I'd played right into his hands.

"Viktor," I said. "Please. Don't do this."

"Goodbye, Jayce." He turned. "You must not return."

"Viktor—"

"Take him."

Cait, I barely had time to react. The blackguards closed in, and my hammer was out, and the energy pulsed, and I managed to get off a shot, and send two of the men flying back, until—

A blow to the back of my skull.

The ground rose up, and slammed into my face.

The world went dark.

When I woke, I was in a holding cell. A dank, cramped space, with a barred door and a cot, and a bucket in the corner. My head throbbed. My hammer had been confiscated. My wrists were chafed from old shackles.

But, other than that, I was unharmed.

I wasn't sure how long I was kept there. Time passed strangely, in a fog of disorientation. It felt like days, but couldn't have been more than a few hours. Finally, a guard appeared. He escorted me out. We took a lift down to an underground garage, where a limousine was waiting. He shoved me in, and I braced myself for the worst.

Maybe Silco would have me strangled. Maybe they'd put a bullet through my skull. Maybe they'd dump me in the river.

I had a dozen scenarios running through my head. None of them ended well.

None of them came close to reality.

Mel was sitting inside.

Silco had informed her, via a confidential courier, of my entry into Zaun. That I'd gone across the border, unsupervised, armed, with no clearance. That I'd trespassed, and threatened Viktor. And that, in doing so, I'd violated the terms of the Peace Treaty.

Politically, it could've been catastrophic. Months of negotiations—the careful cultivation of trust, the fragile bonds of diplomacy—all put at risk. If Silco had decided to press charges, to use the incident as leverage against Piltover, or retaliation for a perceived slight, the Council would've been hard-pressed to respond.

But he hadn't.

Mel told me, afterward, that the crisis had been resolved behind closed doors. She'd taken the ferry to Zaun, requested a private meeting, and met with Silco in his office. There, after some back-and-forth, she had convinced him to drop the charges. In exchange, the Wardens had agreed to a temporary suspension of my duties at HexCorp. It was, in effect, a forced sabbatical. One I was to spend, for three months, under house-arrest.

During that time, I was forbidden from entering Zaun.

Mel told me all this later. In that moment, sitting beside her in the car, I couldn't bring myself to speak. I was too ashamed—too overwhelmed—to say a word.

We rode in silence.

Cait—I've been such an idiot.

I've gambled high, and I've lost. And because of that, Piltover had nearly lost, too. I'd put myself before my city. Before the safety, the security, the future of our people. I thought of how I'd exploded at Mel, that night in her flat. How I'd left her there, in tears. How I'd jeopardized everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. Everything I'd fought so hard to create.

All because of my own blind, selfish, outsized ego.

All because I thought I could swoop in and save the day.

Gods, what an ass I've been.

Throughout the ride, I kept looking sidelong at Mel. She sat, straight-backed, her hands in her lap, her eyes cast forward. Her dress was pristine, her hair was coiffed, her makeup was impeccable. To the untrained eye, she looked flawless.

I knew her better.

I saw the way her hands were a white-knuckled twist. I saw the subtle quiver of her lower lip. I saw the lavender shadows under her eyes.

The guilt was suffocating.

She'd saved me. She's always saved me. And how have I repaid her? With scorn. With mistrust. With disrespect.

I wanted to fall at her feet. Beg her forgiveness. Tell her how sorry I was, and how stupid I'd been, and how wrong.

I didn't.

Instead, I sat there. Staring at my shoes.

We pulled into her driveway.

"Jayce," she said. "Go. Rest in the guestroom. I'll have the maids send up some tea."

Her tone was polite, but distant. Reserved.

I nodded. "Thanks."

"Jayce?"

I paused, halfway out of the car. "Yes?"

She turned, at last, and met my stare. Her eyes were dark, and sad, and tired.

"I'm glad you're safe," she said simply.

Cait, I couldn't say a word. I could barely breathe. I hesitated for just a second, then pulled her across and into my arms. She embraced me, and as soon as I felt her warmth, smelled her perfume, I couldn't stop myself. The past few weeks—Viktor's departure, the truth of Sky's death, the realization that I'd nearly ruined everything—everything came rushing back.

I broke down.

I was crying, Cait. Crying in her arms. Like a child. She held me. She didn't say anything. Just held me.

I don't deserve her.

I truly don't. But having her close, and knowing she cared, was a lifeline. Since the Siege, it's like I've lost a tiny bit of my reality. My grasp on the world. Every day, it's been a little harder. Then Viktor left, and Sky died, and the pieces of my world started falling apart.

Mel is the one of the few pieces still anchoring me.

I wanted to tell her this, Cait. I wanted to tell her, how much she means to me, and how sorry I was, and how grateful. I wanted to tell her, over and over, that I didn't deserve her, and how, despite it all, I was never going to leave her side.

I didn't, though.

I kissed her.

It wasn't planned. It just... happened. I kissed her. She was still in my arms. We were still in the car. I was still crying.

Then I was kissing her.

She let me, for a little bit. Then she broke, gently, and turned her head. Putting a palm on my chest, she nudged me back.

"No, Jayce."

"Mel..."

"You need to rest. We'll talk, later."

"Mel, I..."

"Later," she said softly.

It wasn't a request.

And so, I let her go. I walked into the penthouse, and was escorted upstairs. But, Cait—it was the loneliest walk of my life. Because I realized why, when I'd kissed her, she'd withdrawn.

Not because it was the wrong time.

Not because I was in shock.

Not because she was mad.

Cait, she's seeing someone else. I can't say how I know. Just that I can sense it. And, the worst part is, I can't blame her. After the way I've treated her—blowing hot, then cold; pushing her away, then pulling her close; accusing her of things she'd never do, then expecting her to help me when the shit hits the fan—it's no surprise she's moved on.

And how can I expect this gorgeous, sophisticated, brilliant woman, with her head screwed on straight, and her heart in the right place, and the courage to speak truth into power, to stick around?

Especially when I'm acting like a spoiled, sulky, immature, selfish asshole.

She's better off.

But not me.

I've fucked up, Cait. I've hurt people. I've hurt my friends. I've endangered Piltover. All because I've been too caught up in myself. Because I've let my pride run wild.

Because, at the end of the day, maybe I'm still just a boy meddling with things I don't understand.

I think it's time that boy grew up.

It's time he made the world a better place.

P.S.

This will be my last correspondence for a little while. I'll be going upcity to my mother's place. I've got a few projects in mind, and if I'm going to be under house-arrest, might as well put my time to good use.

Before I go, though, I want to thank you.

For your support. Your honesty. Your friendship.

For everything.

Cait, you're the best.

Your friend, always,

Jayce

To Jayce Talis, Esq.

Sir,

You will oblige me to ask the following: Are you out of your fucking mind?

First, you attack the First Chancellor in plain view of half the Council. Then, you decide it would be a good idea to traipse across the border, unescorted and armed with Hex-tech, without a notarized travel pass. Then, not satisfied with having broken one law, you have the gall to threaten one of our citizens—our brightest minds—with abduction and bodily harm. Then you injure two blackguards, and thereby put yourself, and the integrity of the Peace Treaty, at risk.

Now, you have the balls to write to me—demanding an audience with the First Chancellor, once your house-arrest has expired.

Your arrogance knows no bounds.

Read carefully, sir. Because I will only say this once:

No.

No, you will not have an audience with the First Chancellor. No, we will not divulge the address of the Machinist, Viktor. No, we will not disclose blackguard Violet's current location. And no, you will not be given leave to enter the Fissures, unsupervised and with your hammer.

That is final.

Your last letter, demanding a 'sit-down' (you have, evidently, been reading too many tabloids) is not only a grave presumption. It is also a threat against the integrity of this office. Your future letters, from here on out, will be marked as "Return to Sender." The prior ones, we've already compiled and forwarded to the Council, who have assured us will investigate.

I trust they will take the proper disciplinary actions.

Janna knows, you deserve a slap on the rear. A hard one.

Given your tenure as a former Councilor, we are prepared to show a degree of leniency. You are a prominent figure in the public eye. We recognize the emotional impact of your mentor, Dr. Heimerdinger's, passing. We also know that you have suffered the loss of Viktor's partnership, and are under intense strain in your private life.

In light of these facts, the First Chancellor has agreed to overlook your invective. We will not press charges, and will not seek punitive action, so long as you cease any and all communication with the First Chancellor. You are also instructed to desist any further inquiries into the whereabouts of the Hexcore.

If you continue to persist in your obstinate line of inquiry, the First Chancellor will no longer be inclined to clemency. You will find yourself facing multiple felony charges, which may carry a term of imprisonment.

Consider carefully.

The Man of Tomorrow, Piltover's brightest mind, would look pretty dim in a prison jumpsuit.

Kindly refrain from further correspondence. Unless it’s in the form of an apology. A similar letter of warning has been forwarded to Enforcer Caitlyn Kiramman. In light of your close personal relationship, we request you relay the message next time you meet.

Regards,

Sevika M.

P.S.

The First Chancellor has also requested we share the following message:

"The boy's letters are charmingly feisty. The girl's, surpassingly eloquent. I am delighted to know that two such exceptional individuals are among our neighbors. My only regret is that they spend more time throwing rocks, and less time building bridges."

"When their aim improves, they will be welcome to visit. Until then, they are advised to keep their distance."

62 notes · View notes

dwobbitfromtheshire · 11 months

Text

The Importance of Friendship

After the Starcourt incident, Steve gave it a little bit of time before inviting Robin over for pizza, a movie, and cupcakes. Robin had been surprised to learn that Steve had made all the food himself.

"One new thing that I learned about my new friend, noted," Robin said and then was surprised when he held a lit cupcake up to her. "What's this then?"

"To celebrate our new friendship," Steve said with a grin.

"Dingus," she said affectionately before blowing out the candle with him.

"I want you to know how much this friendship means to me," Steve said softly. "And not just because you're the first friend that I know for sure won't lead to me having sex with them. You're the first real friend that I've had in forever, and it means a lot to me."

"Your friendship means a lot to me too," Robin said and hugged him. "Okay, enough with this mushy shit, let's watch the movie."

They had just started the movie when Robin paused it, turning to Steve with a look of realization.

"Is something wrong?" Steve asked.

"Did you just imply that you had sex with Tommy H and Carol?" Robin asked, and Steve sighed before pulling her up. "Where are we going?"

"Can't have this conversation here, Robin," Steve replied as he pulled her into the bathroom.

"I think I know where this is going," Robin said, smiling softly. "So, you like. . ."

"Both. I like both," Steve said.

"Have you always known you like both?" Robin asked.

"Yep."

"Wait. So, were you, Tommy H, and Carol all. . ."

"Together? Yep. Until I got overwhelmed and had to back off. We remained friends for a while after that, but then I started dating Nancy, and well, you know. . .," Steve said.

"Were you in love with them?" Robin asked.

"No, no. I'm pretty sure in their own way they loved me, but it was a bad, needy relationship. They always had to know where I was going or who I was with, and I never liked the way they talked shit about people," Steve said. "It was hard for me to walk away when I know. . .

"When you know the relationship is bad," Robin said.

"Yeah," Steve said softly.

"How come you didn't tell me all of this at the mall?" She asked.

"Well, Dustin came in, and also, I didn't want to step on your moment," he replied.

"Dingus," Robin replied tearfully. "I hope one day that I meet someone who will understand just how important you are to me. You're a permanent part of my life now, Steve. You're not going anywhere, even when one day you decide that you're sick of me."

"You're a permanent part of my life, too. There's no way I'm ever going to get sick of you. It's you, who's going to get sick of me," Steve replied.

"You're going to get sick of me!"

"No, you're going to get sick of me!"

"No, you are!"

"You're right. I'm already sick of you, Robin."

"Hey! I thought we were doing something here!" Robin exclaimed as she kicked him, and they both started laughing.

"Hey, if you don't stop kicking me, I won't tell you about the guy I've had a crush on since freshman year," Steve said.

"I'll be good."

ONE YEAR LATER. . .

Steve was sitting poolside while everyone celebrated around him. He was content on watching everyone enjoying his pool, smiling at the sight of his best friend sitting by Vickie. She still hasn't made her move yet, but it was alright, Steve hadn't made his move yet either. Speaking of. . . Eddie plopped down in the chair beside him.

"Tired already?" Eddie asked. "I really wore you out, didn't I, big boy?"

"Yeah. You made it really difficult to keep your legs wrapped around my head. Did you have to squeeze so tight?" Steve asked.

"I had to win, Steve, I wasn't going to let Buckley take me out," Eddie said. "Especially not in a game of chicken."

"I think you owe me a new neck," Steve said.

"Aw, do you want Daddy to kiss it all better?" Eddie pouted, his voice deep and husky.

"Fuck off," Steve laughed, his cheeks red. "I told you to stop calling yourself that."

"Oop, I guess I've been a very bad boy," Eddie winked at him.

"That's it!"

Steve picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. Eddie shrieked as he was tossed into the pool. Steve grinned and dove into the pool after him. Steve chased him around the pool as well as chasing the kids. At one point, Steve had teamed up with Eddie to target the kids, and then they played a game of Marco Polo. Once they were all properly pruned up, they climbed out of the pool and laid around it, drying off. However, once they were all dry, the kids still had quite a bit of energy. Steve groaned when Dustin suggested they play a game of tag.

Now, here Steve was, running around in his own damn house. He slid into the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against the bathtub. Suddenly, the shower curtain opened behind him, and a hand slapped over his mouth. Steve let out a muffled yell.

"You ever been split in half on the floor of a bathroom?" a deep voice whispered in his ear before dragging his tongue across his cheek.

Steve struggled out of their grasp and turned around to find Eddie cackling in the bathtub.

"You fucker! I hate you," Steve glared.

"Sure you do, sweetheart," Eddie said.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Eddie quickly pulled Steve into the tub, shutting the curtain quickly. Steve was in Eddie's arms, his ringed fingers covering Steve’s mouth. He was doing everything in his power, not to nibble on his fingers. He turned his head towards Eddie's. They were so close. Eddie took his hand off of his mouth and started leaning in. Steve’s nose started to tickle. Oh no. He couldn't move his arms as Eddie had them trapped by his sides so he couldn't stop it from happening. Steve sneezed. Right. Into. Eddie's. Face. He froze. The curtain opened, and there stood Robin.

"Were you two about to . . ."

"I sneezed! I fucking sneezed!" Steve exclaimed.

"Into his face?" Robin asked with wide eyes as Eddie wiped his face.

Eddie started laughing and wiped his face into Steve’s hair. Robin rolled her eyes at them before plopping down on the floor next to the tub.

"Did you leave Vickie out there to get tagged?" Steve asked.

His question was answered a moment later when Vickie rolled into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it behind her. She turned around, grinning.

"Oh, cool, a sub party!" Vickie whispered. "Sorry, Mike almost saw me."

She sat down in front of Robin and placed her feet in her lap.

"We have to stop meeting like this, Steve," Robin said.

"Where's the fun in that, Robin?" Steve asked.

Robin and Steve’s eyes met, their lips upturned into a grin.

"Happy bathroom anniversary!" Robin and Steve exclaimed.

"You guys going to explain that or what?" Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes.

"A year ago, awful shit happened, people died, and we found ourselves on the floor of the bathroom during the fire at Starcourt," Steve said, unsure of how much Vickie knew. "Confessions were had. I told Robin I had a crush on her."

"I don't blame you for that one. She's very pretty," Vickie said, smiling at Robin and Robin snorted, blushing.

"Uh, yeah, and I told Steve I like girls," Robin said. "And he mocked me for my crush at the time, but not for me being a lesbian."

"A few days later, I invited her over where we had another bathroom conversation. I told her I'm bisexual," Steve said. "We've been best friends ever since."

"You left out something in your own coming out story," Robin said, raising an eyebrow.

"Seriously?"

"It's a good time as any," Robin said. "I'll tell them about my previous crush and my current crush if you do the same. No, pressure, though."

"Fine, I also told her about a crush I had," Steve rolled his eyes as he leaned back against Eddie. "So, there's this guy that I've had a crush on since freshman year. It kind of came back recently. He was a sophomore at the time, and he wasn't ashamed to be himself. I thought he was the coolest guy ever."

"And this guy is. . .?" Eddie asked, growling.

"Really cute. Especially the way he hides behind his hair sometimes and the way he takes lost sheep under his wings. Very cute behavior," Steve said.

"You're talking about me?" Eddie asked. "I mean, I'm right, aren't I?"

Steve nodded. Eddie pulled him into a fierce kiss. Steve deepened the kiss, hoping he didn't sneeze again, and cupped the back of his neck. They were too busy to notice that Robin had shut the curtain on them. Steve broke the kiss, nuzzling Eddie's cheek.

"You wanna go steady, Eddie?" Steve giggled.

"As long as you promise to pin me later, big boy," Eddie said. "And I'm definitely stealing your letterman."

"Oh my God! You guys are disgustingly cute!" Robin yelled as she pushed the curtain back. "You guys done eating each other's faces?"

Steve raised his eyebrows at the sight of Vickie and Robin's own bruised lips.

"Looks like we weren't the only ones eating out," Eddie cackled, and Robin threw a bar of soap at his head.

"Don't use me as a shield!" Steve shrieked.

Eddie pulled him tightly against, his hands resting firmly against Steve’s tummy. He kissed Steve’s cheek and began scratching his stomach.

"You know what I just realized?" Eddie asked.

"What?" Vickie asked.

"We all share the same anniversary now!" Eddie exclaimed. "Cheers!"

"That is so cool!" Vickie exclaimed.

"I bet me and Vickie will last longer than you, Munson," Robin told him.

"You're on, Buckley!" Eddie said, snapping his fingers at her. "Hey, how much money do you want to put on this?"

"No, Robin, you're not putting money on our relationship," Vickie said, laughing at her pouting face.

Eddie turned to look at Steve, hopefully.

"Yeah, that's a no from me," Steve replied.

"Hey, does that mean we're now going to somehow find ourselves in a bathroom every year?" Vickie asked.

"God, I hope not," Eddie said. "This is where people shit."

It was silent for a moment before everyone started laughing. They jumped when the bathroom doorknob started rattling, and there was cursing outside the door. Suddenly, the door unlocked itself and swung open. Dustin stood there with a grin and a Bobby pin.

"There you guys are!" Dustin exclaimed.

"This is familiar," Robin said.

"What are you guys doing in here?" Dustin asked.

"Hiding from Mike," Steve replied.

"Oh, we stopped playing a while ago, we want to watch a movie now," Dustin said.

They followed Dustin into the living room, where everyone was waiting for them. The four of them settled on the floor while the others took up the couch. Steve smiled at Robin while she smiled over at the top of Vickie's head. He couldn't believe how lucky they were to have found people who both knew exactly how important they were to each other, and they weren't bothered by it all. It just goes to show that friendship and romance were just as important, especially if you found the right person who was so willing to also let them into their lives. Honestly, it makes Steve love Eddie even more now.

255 notes · View notes

anamelessfool · 6 months

Text

Ribbons & Ties (AO3 Link)

GEN, M/M

Terzo x Omega, Terzo & Family, Cardinal Marian is in there for like ten minutes

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Commitment, Rom Com Energy, There's a Wedding, Secondo is Papa Emeritus, Gift Giving, I can't have Fluff without some Angst sorry

For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.

Art by @kabukiaku used with permission

Chapter 1 Below the Cut! (We like Reblogs, Comments and Kudos omnomnom)

2006

I was an impossible case. No-one ever could reach me... But I think I can see in your face there's a lot you can teach me...So I wanna know what's the name of the game?

Papa Elect Terzo tried to look busy. He attempted a regal sigh, a pace. Killed time with what he hoped was a thoughtful, intelligent stare out his office window. He did everything possible to bide time while he collected his thoughts in a way that would hide his true intentions.

This was all about Omega.

He had called Cardinal Marian, Sister Imperator’s Personal Assistant not due to any sort of friendship or confidence. His brother Papa Emeritus Secondo barely considered him as human these days and with his wedding a week away he had bigger things to fuss about.

Terzo’s other two ghouls Earth and Alpha could not be trusted to answer honestly. And Brother Copia was, well…Copia.

So then that left Marian.

She was obligated by her job description to interact with him as he needed. For business purposes, of course.

And buying the right birthday present for Omega Ghoul was definitely a high stakes business venture as far as Papa Elect Terzo was concerned.

“Thank you for your time,” Terzo said, pressing his hands together and slightly bowing.

“Hey, anything to give me a break from planning my ex-partners’ wedding,” she replied with an indifferent shrug, although her eyes looked bleary. “How yinz doing on musical entertainment for that, by the way?”

“I have a few choir selections, and I have been working with Papa’s ghouls and my own on some light entertainment during the dinner. Copia has been fussing with finding the right wedding march on the organ for about six weeks now.” And Terzo had been locking his office doors to keep Copia from talking his ear off about it for about six weeks as well. “So…all coming together.”

“Great. Want to be perfect. For them.” She didn't sound too enthused. "But don't worry, I'm completely fine about it." Marian froze, then patted her sides. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Please don't, it gets into the curtains,” said Terzo.

Marian slumped in her chair slightly. “Ok, now you have to tell me the real reason I’m here.”

Terzo closed his eyes and collected himself. “I need some help picking out a gift. For a friend. I'm having trouble,” he said.

“Don’t you give people shit all the time? Flowers, erotic notes, pornographic photography, whatever…” Marian raised an eyebrow. “People talk. In the Dining Hall. A lot.”

Terzo winced and then gave her a defeated shrug. “This is em…different.”

At that Marian’s face immediately switched into a wicked grin. She leaned forward on his desk, hand on her chin with such force her biretta hat went crooked. “Why? Why is it different, huh?”

“Because…” And then Terzo threw her a haughty scowl. “I don’t need to tell you. You work for me, sorella. This is a business meeting. A consulation.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” She glanced at the clock. “But If I’m your employee you’ve got like ten minutes to spit it out before I leave for the day. So…what is it?”

“Omega…is an important friend to me. I want a gift that is…worthy of him.” Terzo started to pace again. “Something that is special, but ghouls are difficult to shop for! They don’t need to eat, or drink. Omega doesn’t seem to want to visit anywhere or do anything beyond whatever I want to do…”

“Well, isn’t he…basically you?”

“Yes but also, no.”

“And you’re psychically linked, right?” Marian thoughtlessly played with her pen, clicking it idly. “So, even if you wanted it to be a surprise, he’d already sort of know about it.”

“Cazzo, you see now why this would be so difficult?!”

Marian shrugged. “It’s the thought that counts, at the end of the day.”

“I know that,” Terzo snapped. It was definitely the thought that counted.

Except, he had never truly sincerely thought about someone else when giving a gift before. And that is what made his hands clammy and his mind race.

Terzo decided he needed to gift something really important. Something that reflected how much his heart pounded when Omega held him. Something that was big, essential, eternal. Just like his ghoul.

“A…a diamond! Yes.”

Marian smirked. “A diamond? For your very best friend?”

“Yes…” Terzo began weakly, but then remembered Marian's status as his minion. He frowned into her. “Yes, a diamond.”

“Whatever,” she replied, then opened her steno pad. “Although you know purchases over a certain amount I got to run through Treasury Director Brother Copia.”

“Then forget the diamond,” Terzo backpedaled.

Marian checked the clock on the wall again and snapped her notepad shut. “Ok, fine I've dated quite a few guitarists over the years and they like practical stuff. Like, for their instrument. How about um…a guitar strap, huh?”

“How about a guitar strap?” suggested Terzo.

Marian frowned. “What's his favorite color?”

“Erm—black.”

“Second favorite color?” Marian sighed.

“Violet, he likes violet!”

“Violet and black guitar strap, coming right up,” Marian intoned. “And look, you got ninety more seconds until I go home, is there anything else you need, your Eminence?”

“No, that would be all.” Terzo returned to staring out the window with an extra dramatic flourish of his black cardinal cassock. He took a breath, feeling his nerves start to settle as he heard the squeak of Cardinal Marian's chair as she exited. All of a sudden he had a thought. "Oh, and Marian?"

"Twenty seconds left, your Eminence." Marian's hand was already on the doorknob.

"You're certain he'll like that?"

Marian's brow furrowed, but then it seemed like a thought passed through her, and her expression softened. "Of course," she said, "Who wouldn't like a gift?"

My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Terzo/Omega Fics

Chapter 2 here

#ghost fandom #the band ghost #ghost scenes from the void #terzomega #domestic december #fluff fic #papa emeritus iii #omega ghoul #ghost band fic #terzo x omega

83 notes · View notes

be-co-me · 1 year

Text

Anonymous

Miya Atsumu

1.9k Words

Summary: Homework help proves to be more useful with a cute tutor.

...

Some days college was hard, but the first week of the semester, you didn't think you would be struggling as much as you were. You sat at your desk, nearly at the sixth hour of trying to figure out physics. A lot of it was math. Your worst subject. You struggled with even some of the simplest parts of it.

You decided to take a small break, grabbing your phone and leaning back in your desk chair. You opened ChitChat, an app that many college students around you and the world used. It essentially allowed you to talk and post with people anonymously within a five mile radius of you. You scrolled the usual content that others posted before posting about your struggles with physics.

This physics class is going to be the death of me.

Once it was posted, you scrolled a bit longer, reading some of the threads about the drama going on around the school. There was always something with one of the fraternities or sororities going on, or more like a person in them.

Eventually, your focus returned to your homework, until you heard your phone ding.

New comment on your post, view now!

You sat back once more, picking up your phone and opening the app.

Anon: Which physics course are you in?

You: The first one :'( I'm struggling hard.

Anon: Wait till you take the second one. The end is rough.

You: Sounds like I'll be crying a lot next semester then lol

Anon: Well, let me help. Which part are you having trouble with?

You: We're going over trig right now.

Anon: The math is the hardest part. Give me an example problem and I'll see if I can help you understand how to solve it.

You eyed your homework for the problem that you least understood. Maybe if you could understand how to do the hardest problem you could understand the easiest parts, which most of the other problems seemed to be.

You: The hypotenuse is 6 and the adjacent is 5, find the cosine.

Anon: Remember SOHCAHTOA? Sin= Opposite over Hypotenuse and so on so forth?

You didn't know what he was talking about. What was this abbreviation? You remembered a lot of weird ones or songs you learned to remember things, like the quadratic formula and pythagorean theorem, but never one for trigonometry.

You: I do not. Never learned it. Please elaborate.

Anon: Okay, so the CAH is Cosine= Adjacent over Hypotenuse and the TOA is Tangent= Opposite over Adjacent. Remember that, it's crucial.

You: Got it.

Anon: Now, you need to find the cosine, so you need the CAH part. Your cosine equals your adjacent over the hypotenuse, so 5 over 6. Which is 0.83 in decimal form. Take your calculator and press the cos-1 button and enter 0.83 in the parentheses and close it, then press enter. What'd you get?

You did as he said, eyeing the problem one more time to make sure you told him what it was correctly.

You: 33.56 was my answer.

Anon: And it's the correct one. Congrats, now you know the basics of trigonometry. Those rules are so important to knowing what to do. If you need more help add me on Snap. My username is tsumu_rice_&_volley.

You instantly changed to Snap and added him. You had an idea as to who it was and when he added you back and sent you a picture composed with a selfie of him holding his own homework reading "Miya Atsumu", you instantly knew you were correct.

The volleyball team captain. And one of the most well known fraternity members of the school. All the girls sought after him. You never imagined he'd be good at school, but then again how would he stay in it if he wasn't? And volleyball too.

You viewed yourself in the camera, making sure you looked decent, sending a selfie back with your own homework. He responded with one back, the caption reading,

Need help with anymore of those questions?

You could only laugh. At yourself and maybe at how kinda cute the setter was. Your brain wandered off to if there was a chance he would ever like you. There were so many other people he had the option of dating if he wanted to.

Is all of them an acceptable answer?

You sent back. You eyed the paper, none of the answers becoming any easier to you. You wished your professor would explain things a little better, and the online platform you did lessons and homework on wasn't helpful even one bit. He sent a picture back and you opened it.

Could you meet in the library? Maybe I can explain it better in person.

You pondered on if you wanted to go or not. It was very cold outside and you were holed away in warmth of your dorm room. On the other hand this homework was due the next day and you had 49 other problems to get through that you couldn't begin to understand on your own, therefore you opted to meet with him. You snapped a quick picture.

If it's not too much trouble then sure! But I'm buying you a coffee at the cafe. No questions asked.

You got up from the warmth of your desk and the heater pushed into the corner of the floor underneath it, turning it off and putting on a cozy outfit. You packed your backpack up and began your trek to the library/cafe.

You received a Snap from him as you walked, opening it.

I'm here in the corner. It's void of people in here, so I should be pretty easy to find.

His pictures were cute. You were glad he sent his Snap and not some other generic messaging app to talk on. You got to see him along with it. It made your heart leap a little bit when you saw the picture.

Almost there!

You responded, shoving your phone into your jacket pocket as you opened the door to go inside. You wiped the snow off of yourself and walked into the main study area. You looked around for him and met his eyes, him waving you down. You walked towards him.

"Well, I guess I should introduce myself properly. Hi Anon, I'm Atsumu." he said, sticking his hand out.

"And I'm (Y/N)." you responded, shaking his hand with your gloved one. You set your bag down and shrugged your winter attire off.

"So coffee? My treat for you helping me." you said. He nodded, standing up. You walked over to the cafe with him, pulling your wallet out. You eyed the menu for a little while before deciding on a brown sugar oat milk cold brew. He chose an iced matcha latte. You paid for the drinks and stood to the side, waiting for them to be made.

"It sure is dead in here. I didn't expect it to be with the first week of school and all." he said, breaking the ice and starting up a conversation.

"I know what you mean. Maybe everyone thinks it's too cold to go out. I don't have many friends here or I'd be in here studying with them all the time, I just don't wanna be alone in here. It would be kind of awkward." you responded, the barista handing the drinks to you. You handed him his own.

"I get that. I don't have wifi at my dorm yet. I'm in the new building so they haven't set it up. I've got no choice so I kinda got past the awkward part." he chuckled. You made your way back to the table and sat down.

"We even get this huge whiteboard all to ourselves to do as much trigonometry as we desire." he said, pointing out the whiteboard in the corner. Almost all study areas in the school had a whiteboard or, new as of that semester, a large tablet to do work on.

He began to explain the next homework problem you had, eyeing all of the erased pencil and light evidence of wrong answers on the paper. He stood and drew a problem on the whiteboard, prompting you to answer as he wrote down what you responded to his questions. You took your calculator and entered what you had come up with, the correct answer popping up. You smiled as you finally began to understand.

"Alright, I'm gonna take a problem for sine, cosine, and tangent each and put them up here. I want you to solve them on your own." he said, picking up your homework packet and rummaging through the pages to find one of each problem.

Once he was done, he sat back down, working on what seemed to be a literature essay. You took a while trying to make sure every detail was correct, typing into your calculator to get an answer occasionally. Once you were confident your answers and your work underneath each triangular model was correct, you turned around.

"Alright, finished." you said. He looked up from his laptop, setting down his latte and standing to review your work. You sat down, watching him as he carefully reviewed your writing. He leaned over the table and took your calculator, typing in what you hoped was your correct work on each problem. You sipped on your coffee as he reviewed.

"All correct! Good job! Do you think you're okay to finish them up on your own?" he asked. You nodded.

"Ask me if you have any questions." he said, sitting back down across from you. You nodded once more, beginning to work on the packet once more.

After thirty minutes of doing problems and typing into your calculator, you finally finished. You set the calculator down and stretched your arms, eyeing your now empty coffee cup.

"Finished?" he asked, looking up. You nodded, your eyes looking up to meet his own.

"Let me see it." he said, motioning with his hand for you to give it to him. He eyed the packet over, typing in a few problems from each page to make sure they were right.

"You did good! All the ones I put in are correct so I'm sure you did well on everything else." he said, handing the packet back to you. You packed it into it's respectful folder where it would sit until your class the following day.

"How about you? What have you been typing up over there?" you asked.

"Just reviewing this essay. Can you believe we had to do an essay the first week of school? Unbelievable." he said, shaking his head in disapointment. You chuckled in response. That was a little much of the teacher. You'd take note so you knew not to take that teacher's class in the future.

The two of you talked until the library hours were over. You packed your things and put your winter attire back on, ready to walk out.

"I printed a paper off. Can you grab it for me please?" he asked you nodded, walking across the library to grab it. You stood in front of the printer, grabbing the slightly warm paper off of it. You turned around to wave it at him, but he was gone.

You frowned slightly, turning the paper over.

Let's make this a weekly thing so you don't have to study alone. Here's my number. You better text me! :P XX-XXXX-XXXX. -Anonymous

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x you #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #hq #hq x reader #hq fluff

162 notes · View notes

adoringsan · 4 months

Text

new world 💌 choi san — 2

Y/n knocks twice on the door of her father's study apprehensively, before sticking her head around the large, oak door to see the King sat at his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand.

"Y/n" the King gleams, "how's my Princess?"

Y/n giggles softly at her father's words. He's called her his Princess for as long as she can remember, and yeah, she is his Princess, literally, but Y/n is very attached to hearing her father saying it. "I'm tired, you?"

Her father takes a sip from his drink, before placing it back down with care onto the coaster. "I'm okay. However, there's something important I need to talk to you about Y/n. Something really important Y/n. It's serious, and I need you to not have a hissy fit over this. I need you to handle this with responsibility."

Y/n stares at her father for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed in confusion trying to read her father's expression, but to no avail. Asking Y/n to not have a hissy fit is nothing new from her father, it's a phrase he's grown fond of over the years, however, he uses it in times of seriousness, so Y/n knows he's not calling this scenario serious lightly. "Are you having an affair?"

"What?" Y/n's father exclaims with eyes wide, "Have you lost your mind?"

"I mean you said it was serious" Y/n shrugs.

"It is Y/n but I'm not cheating on your mother, you know I love her very much." Your father states matter of factly, before finishing the rest of his drink, his serious eyes landing back on your confused ones. We've been thinking Y/n, you're twenty one now, and you've never had a boyfriend. You've always told us you want to, but that the opportunity has never arisen, nor have we ever been too keen on the idea. After a lot of reflection, me and your mother think you having a boyfriend would be a positive, not a negative. It would be good. Good for you, good for our image." Y/n's father begins, his tone completely serious.

"What? So I can have a boyfriend if I meet someone I find fitting?" Y/n questions, not quite understanding where her father's sudden change of heart on the idea of her dating has come from.

"No Y/n, you have a boyfriend."

Y/n chuckles dryly, "What? No, I don't. Dad you know I never get to meet new people how could i-"

"We've been doing some looking Y/n. We wanted to find you someone who is well known, respected, and well received by the public. We got into contact with the idol Choi San's management. You know him, right Y/n? His managers thought it was a fantastic idea, they said it would boost his popularity as well as his group's career a lot as well and-"

"What?" Y/n spits, seething with anger, "So I'm supposed to date this stranger because it'll make his silly little group more popular? Seriously?"

"Y/n I've already told you, it'll look great in the media for our family. The princess finally having a significant other, they must be starting to think you won't have anyone by your side when you take over reign in the future" the King says, trying to calm his daughter down.

Shock and disbelief are probably the best words to describe Y/n at present. Y/n has been dreaming of the day she's finally allowed to have her own boyfriend her whole life. What he looks like, what his hobbies are, what his favourite movie is, if he prefers dogs or cats. She never in a million years would have expected her own father to force her into a relationship with a complete stranger. She didn't think her father was like that.

"You're finally allowing me to be like everyone else my age, finally giving me a glimpse of reality, allowing me to have the chance to fall in love, but no, you have to go and ruin it by forcing me into a relationship with a fucking stranger!"

"Y/n-"

"No" Y/n coldly cuts off her father, standing up from her chair and approaching the door. "I hope I hate him and trust me, I'm going to do everything in my power to scare that boy away. Who the hell is Choi San? Because he's just signed a death wish."

With that, the study door slams shut loudly, echoing through the entire palace, followed by Y/n running up the stairs, locking her room door, and crying, hard.

Why can't she just be a normal twenty one year old?

San is nervous as he enters his manager's office. His manager sounded serious when he told him that they need to have a meeting. He's even more nervous at the fact that none of his members knew anything about the meeting. San knows he didn't do anything bad. San takes life very easily. He always takes care of other people's feelings, doing everything he can to make them happy. He knows he isn't in trouble, but he can't seem to calm his nerves.

"Hey Hwan, what's up? San asks his manager nervously as he takes a seat in front of him.

"Hey San" Hwan smiles, his expression calming San slightly. "There's something I need to talk to you about, it's a lot, but I know you'll do great like always."

San's body relaxes into the chair, a small smile on his face. "Is it a solo project? San asks hopefully.

"Of sorts I suppose" Hwan begins cautiously, "We've spoken about dating before, right?"

"Yeah of course" San shrugs, "No relationships but if I was to have one I'm to tell you immediately so you don't have to find out from the media."

"Exactly. Well, someone very important has been in contact with me San. They suggested something to me, and it would really benefit both your career and the career of Ateez. It would also look good for the other person's career too" Hwan explains, his eyes trying to make sense of San's reaction.

"I'm lost" San admits.

Hwan chuckles lightly at the younger boy's honesty, "I'm sorry San, let me get to the point. The person that was in contact was the King, San. He thinks it would be a great idea if you and Princess Y/n became a couple for the media."

San doesn't know how to react. How is he supposed to react? A Princess. A member of the Royal Family, his girlfriend. His first girlfriend. "I- what? Hwan I'm sure she's a lovely girl but I don't know her. She's literally a member of the Royal Family, a Princess. What if I don't want to?"

"Look San, I know this is a lot" Hwan sighs, "but this is huge San. "It's going to do so much for you, for the group. It's also a King's request San, I don't think it's really something to be argued. Trust me San, it'll be great.

"Can I go home now?" San asks quietly, his mind not quite comprehending the information he was just told.

"Okay," Hwan smiles softly, "get a good night's sleep, you're meeting the Princess for the first time tomorrow."

Seriously? How did San get into this mess?

—

new world masterlist | previous | next

note: the first full writing chapter! pleaseeee let me know what you think in my asks/replies. I also want to note that I’ve used the pronouns she/her for y/n as without choosing a pronoun to use it would have been hard to have my sentences flow, but of course, feel free to read it as whatever pronouns apply to you!

taglist: @scarfac3 @plants-w0rld @asherthehimbo

38 notes · View notes

intoanotherworld23 · 1 year

Text

Deep Water III

Characters: Will Miller, Ben Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia and female reader

Warnings: Impure thoughts, swear words, mention of killings and murder, lots of drinking, shooting

Summary: The Frontier men have to take you to one of their clubs, and that’s a perfect excuse to get drunk

Hearts, reblogs, and comments are greatly encouraged and appreciated! If you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know so I can add you! Thank you all so much! XOXO

Part 2 Part 4

Check out my other works on Hall Of Hunks

It was incredibly weird sitting in a room with a bunch of mobsters, and yet somehow they looked like normal everyday citizens you'd see walking along the street. They just didn't match the profiles of killers or thugs. You were pretty sure you'd hear all their stories though.

"How long am I going to be here?" They probably didn't know the answer to that anyway but you'd figure you would try and ask.

"Depends on when Will wants to let you go." You didn't like the way Benny said that though it wasn't reassuring that he would even let you go.

"Is he gonna kill me?" Whispering this time as you fiddled with your hands in your lap afraid for the answer.

"He won't kill you." Benny said as he gave you a warm smile. "We can promise you that."

"What if he gets really mad and can't control himself?" You threw on their face as they looked at each other.

"He's not going to kill you babe." Bennys voice a little more stern this time.

"Unless you give him reason to kill you he won't." Frankie leaned forward elbows on his knees hands clasped in front of him.

Not liking the way that he said that at all. What reason would you have to give him to justify him killing you? Surely he wouldn't kill you for simply trying to escape. Everyone who is held against their will or kidnapped tries to escape. That would be a ridiculous reason to end your life.

Then you remembered he mentioned your father and said your last name was keeping you alive. Wondering how he knew your father and why that was so important. You weren't going to stop asking until you got a legit answer.

"He said my last name was keeping me alive." Throwing those words back at them crossing your arms over your chest. "What did he mean by that?"

"We can't tell you that darlin." Benny shrugged his shoulders a sympathetic look on his face. "That's Will's department and should be the one to explain."

"That's bull shit." Raising your voice a little frustrated beyond belief that nobody was telling you anything. "I just don't understand why you guys can't tell me anything."

"Don't worry he'll tell you." Santi responded with a nod. "When the time is right."

Why does the time need to be right? That was such a bull shit answer and reason as to why nobody could tell you, and why it specifically had to be Will. Maybe he knew your father in some way, and something happened between them.

Gasping internally at the thought of Will or his men having to do something with your family's death. If that was the case you'd be more than happy to put a bullet in each of their brains. Then again if they wanted the family dead they would have killed you too.

"So you guys kill people?" Asking no one in particular Santi and Frankie looked at each other for a moment.

"Only if we have to." Benny answered for them making you glance over at him.

"Just like that guy in the alley?" They could sense the cynical tone in your voice making them grin that you weren't as afraid of them as they'd like.

"He knew what the consequences were for dealing with us." Santi responded anyway turning your attention to him.

"So he owed you guys money." You leaned back in the chair trying to figure out the reason they killed him. "And because he didn't have it you guys killed him?"

"Yes." This time Santi looked a little ashamed answering your question.

"Technically Ironhead killed him." Frankie spoke up in defense the corner of your lip twitching. "Just sayin."

Maybe it was just you but Frankie didn't seem like the type of guy to be involved in something like this. He seemed more like the type of guy to be afraid of guys like them. Although you shouldn't judge a book by its cover cause he probably has killed more people than what you'd expect.

"How did Ironhead or whatever become the head guy?" Asking as you looked between the three of them.

"That's a story for another time." Wills voice rang as he descended down the stairs your heads turning to him. "We have to go."

"Where?" Frankie asked as he stood up adjusting his shirt.

"To the club." Grabbing a gun and placing into a holder that was strapped to his hip gulping as you watched him. "Apparently someone doesn't want to cough up what they owe us."

"Is it that Russian guy?" Benny already knew who he was talking about.

"Yeah security spotted him betting money at the poker table." He scoffed loudly as he looked at his phone. "Even though he told me last week he didn't have the money yet."

"Little fucker." It surprised you to hear Frankie talking like that since he'd been so nice to you.

Which probably meant it was just another man whose life they were going to take. It made your skin crawl at the thought of hearing another man beg for his life only to have it ripped from him. Those men they killed most likely had families to go home to. Wives and children that missed them wondering what happened to them.

If you could have avoided being caught you would have ran so quickly your legs would be on fire, and you wouldn't be in this situation. Hearing them justify what they did to other people made you sick to your stomach. This wasn't how normal people should live their lives, and citizens shouldn't live in fear cause of them.

"What about her?" Benny asked pointing at you.

"She comes with us." He said like it was no big deal but your eyes went wide in shock.

"What?" Exclaiming as you stood up looking straight at him but he was refusing to meet your eyes. "Your kidding me right?"

"Will we can't take her with us man." Santi tried to reason with him.

"Yeah that's not something for her to have to watch." Frankie defended his suggestion actually making you feel better they thought about your well being.

"Yeah I'm not going." You stated but nobody was really paying attention to you.

"She's going with us and that's final." Will argued his cheeks turning red making them back up a little.

"You guys can tie me up, lock me in a room whatever." This time they all looked over at you. "But I'm not going with you."

Standing firm putting your foot down in defiance, but Will looked like he wasn't in the mood. Looking over at you finally before stomping his way over to you making you cower back a little from him.

Grabbing your arm roughly in his hand pulling you toward him making you whimper. The rest of the guys stood back not even daring to tell him what to do, but they still felt bad. The feeling of his calloused hands rubbing against your skin was burning.

"I don't have time for your pathetic whiny bitching right now." He sneered at you the veins in his neck popped out. "You are fucking going with us and that's final."

The two of you staring into each other's eyes silently daring you to say something else to piss him off. Raising an eyebrow at you and you lowered your head a little but still kept your eyes locked on his. His lips quirked up into a smirk knowing he won this battle.

It was too soon to be challenging his authority. He seemed like the type of man who didn't like to be tested, and if someone tried to outrank him it would end in blood. You needed to be smart about things, and stay alive as long as you could.

"Well what the hell am I supposed to wear?" Looking down at your clothes feeling these weren't club appropriate. "I'm not going to the club looking like this."

"She does have a point man." Santi agreed with him making you smile. "Our club has a strict dress code."

"She's going to be with us." He growled not liking his men to be agreeing with you so easily.

"Yeah she can't wear jeans to a hot nightclub." Benny stepped in as his eyes looked your body up and down giving you a wink.

"Fine." Throwing his hands up in defeat. "We have spare clothes upstairs."

"Yeah I'm not wearing clothes that your sluts left over." You argued making them all laugh leaving you confused.

"Either you wear the sluts clothes," Will spoke as he stepped closer to you, "or wear nothing at all."

"I wouldn't mind the latter though."

Your mouth about dropped to the floor with his challenging words. Surely he wouldn't make you go to a club with no clothes on they weren't complete animals. Judging by the look on his face though he wasn't playing.

Benny and Santi seemed to also like that idea as they chuckled. A part of you wanted to say wear nothing at all just to see their reaction, but you were afraid that he was dead serious on making you go naked.

"Asshole." Grumbling under your breath as this time he smiled in your defeat.

"Fish show her where the clothes are." Will ordered him as Frankie walked up to you and placed a soft hand on your lower back leading you upstairs.

As he led you to a room you saw a bed and dresser, and that was it. It looked like someone had lived in this room, but there was literally nothing in here. Frankie could see the confused look on your face.

"There are no sluts clothing here." He teased as you just rolled your eyes at him. "By the way."

"This was Yovanna's room." Frankie informed you raising an eyebrow at him wondering who she was. "She's in the hospital in a coma."

"We took all her stuff down so we didn't have to look at it." Frankie looking down at his feet noticing his eyes started to water knowing she must have meant something to him. "We left her clothes though."

"Just in case." He nudged your shoulder with a smile this time causing you to smile back at him.

"What happened to her?" Asking him hoping you weren't going to upset him in any way.

"She was shot a couple times and she just never woke up." Turning to look away from Frankie as you pictured what this woman's room probably looked like.

She was probably a very tough woman to be living with four other men, and she was also most like ridiculously gorgeous too. Or was clinically insane and hated herself so much to the point she would live this life.

Either way it seemed like her story was something he didn't want to discuss. Which most likely means none of the other guys would want to talk about it either.

"Come on let's find you something." Nodding towards the closet opening it to see it was full of all kinds of clothing. "Pretty sure you guys are the same size."

"What about this?" He held up a crop top and matching black leather skirt as you looked at him raising an eyebrow.

"Uh yeah I don't think so." Tossing that to the side he started to rummage through some more things before he settled on a black dress.

"This would look amazing on you." It was plain black with spaghetti straps and it looked really cute.

"Okay fine I'll wear that." Grabbing it from his hands as you placed it on the bed going to take your shirt off when you noticed him standing there still. "Do you mind?"

"Gotta stay here with you so you don't escape." Shrugging his shoulders with an apologetic look on his face. "I'll turn around."

Which he did keeping his back fully towards you as you quickly stripped off your other clothes, and slipped on the black dress. It was snug against your hips, and the ends of the dress went down to about your mid thigh.

The push up bra you were wearing had your cleavage nearly spilling out of the neck line. This dress felt like it was made for you, and you looked incredibly hot in it. You were wearing black boots which wouldn't have been your first choice, but it still fit with the outfit.

"Holy shit." Scratching the back of his neck as he looked your body up head to toe his whole face turning red. "You look amazing."

"Thanks." Wiping your hands down the side of the dress as you gave him a weak smile.

"Alright let's go."

Walking down the steps all three heads looked up to see you standing at the bottom of the steps like you were some kind of mythical creature. Santi had his mouth partially open in shock, while Benny licked his lips like you were something sweet. Then there was Will.

Clenching his hands into fists by his side as he tried to control his breathing. If the other guys were there he would have grabbed you so quickly and bent your over the railing. You were the best damn looking woman he has ever seen, and that dress made you look mysterious and seductive.

"God damn you look scrumptious." Benny groaned as he placed a fist up to his mouth.

"You're wearing that dress all the time." Santi agreeing with Benny as they began acting like horny teenage boys.

Looking down at your feet as all the men continued to drool over you. Frankie awkwardly coughed to snap them out of their day dreaming of what you probably looked like under neath those clothes. Looking back at him mouthing a quick thank you to him.

It made you feel good about yourself for a split second, but then you remembered where you were, and what kind of people you were surrounded by.

"Fuck let's go." Will groaned as he grabbed the keys and one by one you all headed out the door.

Will was struggling to control his hormones, and could feel himself getting hard picturing you in that dress. If the other men weren't here he'd already have you pinned against the wall with your dress bunched up around your hips, and his fingers touching you.

Shaking those vivid images from his mind of what you would look like underneath him moaning his name. He was never the type of guy to let a woman make him feel things. The other guys were most likely thinking that too.

As you piled into the car you were smushed between Benny and Frankie. Santi took his place in the drivers seat and once again Will took his seat in the passenger. You were going to have to figure out why he did that. It seemed weird he didn't want to drive.

For the first time since last night you were feeling good about yourself. You kind of felt powerful with how you made the boys act with how you dressed. Dress like that more often and you could probably walk away without a scratch. Although you were pretty positive you'd have better chance just trying to escape.

"Let's move." Will ordered as the rest of you got out to see a huge line waiting outside the club waiting to get in.

Looking at the club that had green and black lights shining down, and a neon sign that said Venom. There was multiple security guards standing outside, and once they saw your group they all stepped aside letting them by greeting each other with nods.

Guess the one good thing about being around them was getting into clubs without having to pay or wait outside with everyone else. Nobody dared to even groan either as they were let him probably knowing exactly who they were. Getting glares from the other women who looked at you with jealousy.

Walking through the doors there was strobe lights flickering all around the club. The dance floor was packed with sweating bodies, and the bar lined up with pretty woman chatting up desperate men. On another side it looked like there was gambling tables, and VIP booths. Assuming that was where they man they were looking for is.

You could feel a hand wrap around your waist looking from your side view to see that it was Will. The hand that was now applying pressure to your skin was starting to tingle. He didn't seem phased at all meanwhile you were panting and sweating by just a single touch.

"You want anything to drink?" Placing his lips almost on your ear as you all sat in a huge booth gated off from everybody else.

"Uh yeah I'll take whatever." Shouting over the music making him chuckle.

He motioned to a woman who was clearly the bottle service saying something to her as she nodded with a grin. Next thing you knew watched multiple women came heading towards the table wearing lingerie with a liquor bottle in each hand. The middle of the table had glasses, and buckets of ice along with stuff to mix in your drink if you needed it.

This was going to be your excuse to get hammered and try to forget everything that happened over the last twenty four hours. Maybe if they got drunk enough they'd forget about you, and you could walk out of here.

"Let me know if you see him." Will informed the guys who put on their laser focus.

Sitting there awkwardly as the rest of the men talked to each other looking towards the dance floor. Will's main focus was to spot the man they were looking for. Chugging back your drink as you began to make another one.

The burn felt good going down your throat. It was already taking its affect as you could feel yourself starting to loosen up. Bobbing your head along to the beat, and swaying your body back and forth catching the attention of Will.

"Found him." You heard him shout over to Benny who nodded placing his drink down.

"Pope come with us." Bradley ordered as he stood up. "Fish stay with her don't let her out of your sight."

"What if I have to pee?" If it wasn't for the alcohol in your system you wouldn't have said that, but it amused everyone but Will.

"Guess you'll have to ruin that dress then." He had an answer for everything huffing as he turned around leaving the booth.

Frankie nodded as he scooted closer to you watching the three men disappear walking towards the mini casino area. Frankie already knew what was about to probably go down, meanwhile you had a very vague idea what was about to happen.

"You might want to slow down." He suggested as he watched you pouring yourself another glass of straight liquor. "We have all night."

"I don't care I need this." Shaking your glass back and forth as you tossed it back with no problem this time.

"The hangover won't be worth it." He was trying to reason with you but you didn't want to hear it.

"Whatever." None of them had a right to tell you how you should feel or react to things.

"You'll still be with us tomorrow." This time he was being realistic and wanted you to realize there was no getting out of this no matter what you did or said.

"You think I don't know that." Snapping at him feeling your blood boiling. "Why the fuck do you think I'm trying to get drunk?"

"Alright okay you've made your point." Putting his hands up in surrender not wanting to make you anymore angry.

You really didn't want to yell at Frankie like that, but with all these emotions you were feeling you couldn't help it. One minute they could be doing everything to keep you alive, and the next then having you dig your own grave while they shoot you in the head.

There was no way you'd still be here with them if your father was alive. He'd have them all arrested or shot the minute they put their hands on you. Wishing now that he was still alive so you could be back in the comfort of your own house and bed.

"He's not all bad you know." You didn't need to hear a name to know who he was talking about.

"You have to say that he's your boss." Shaking your head at him not in the mood to hear his excuses for him.

"Actually I'm saying that cause he's not just my boss but my friend." Looking over at Frankie this time with a defiant look on your face.

"Could have fooled me." Cocking your head to the side as you poured yourself another shot.

"He really isn't." Scoffing at him as you looked over to the gambling tables unable to see them. "Once you get to know him at least."

"I don't want to get to know him." Before Frankie could say anything shots rang out in the club making everyone scream.

Rough hands grabbing you as he pulled you into him and shielding you from any bullets. Your body was frozen and you felt the full weight of terror strike your body. Trying not to cry as the possibility of death floated in your mind.

You've been around guns before and heard them go off, but it was never in a public place where you knew dangerous men were. In that moment all you wanted was your family, and to hold them and have them tell you everything was going to be alright.

Wondering who was firing and who was hit? Watching as the patrons scattered like little bugs that felt danger, and didn't want to be in the cross hairs of whoever was firing.

"Fucking get her." Was all you heard before someone else grabbed you.

——————————————

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129

Tag list series: @casa-boiardi @luciferiorbxtch @ladyelissarose

#Pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal series #frankie morales #Frankie morales x reader #Frankie morales smut #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #Oscar Isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfiction #fic rec

145 notes · View notes