#before wasting over $300 of fabric
Text
I got the samples for the fabric for a Hei trench coat. The intention is to make it out of proper material so I can legit wear it as an actual trench coat, not just for cosplay, so I want to make it out of nice stuff. I found lovely 100% wool garbadine (no plastic!!!!!) And the colors are /perfect/.
The green is $65/yard, and the black is $85/yard.
*longest eesh ever*
The green is less yellow in person and, I cannot stress enough, the /PERFECT/ shade
#major ramblings#darker than black#dtb#i really#Really#need to make sure that im serious about this#before investing that amount of money into it#might try and make one out of cotton or like a cheaper material#not worry about color matching either#to make sure i have the pattern right#before wasting over $300 of fabric#bc holy fuck#gotta work my way up there#gotta earn this as like#a birthday present in a year or two idk#oh but the green is so nice
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Week 3 in Lund and Other Places!
Hello again from Lund, Sweden! This last week has been a wonderful touristy blur, so I think I will let the pictures speak mostly for themselves (although I am limited to only 10 I'm afraid). Saturday was visits to Lund's Kulturen open air museum, the Skissernas Museum of Sketches (pictured below), and the Cathedral which was built in the 1100's and still stands in the town's center! The University Library was also a can't miss in terms of beautiful architecture.
The next day was swimming at Lomma Beach just a bus ride away (through flower fields!) from Lund. The water wasn't too cold, but we learned too late it's common to take a sauna near the piers of the area before jumping in the waves.
This week, week number three, was the first week I have felt settled into my daily research routine. We are even starting to get some data from our isothermal calorimetry experiments to analyze! I also finally feel like I know my way around the city on foot (more or less) and was able to find some nice bakery spots. My favorite so far has been a kanelbullar, a kind of Swedish cinnamon bun, from The Patisseriet.
On Wednesday, I visited my distant relative in Copenhagen. The picture on the bottom left is the view from the top of The Church of Our Savior which, at around 90 meters or 300 feet tall with only a railing separating us from the drop at the top of the spiral, was a bit terrifying. We survived, and after making it to the bottom, had a nice dinner where we chatted about our shared family and how our lives might have been different if our parents or grandparents or great grandparents had immigrated to somewhere other than the United States and Canada or not at all. In a way, the experience was a little like a blind date. I wasn't sure what to expect going in, but it was so cool to make such a connection with family living halfway around the world.
Back in Lund at the end of the week, our class had a seminar on Swedish societal structures. I learned university tuition is free for all Swedish residents (although students have to pick an educational path much earlier because distribution requirements for majors like engineering usually aren't as common). I also learned that parental leave from work is 16 months and expected to be shared between parents where in the United States it can be as low as 3 months which is wild. My specific topic was the recycling system in Sweden and the main difference between Sweden and the U.S. is that only 1% of waste in Sweden ends up in landfills. A lot of waste is burned in energy recovery facilities which have their own issues, but there are also efforts towards circular economy like incentives for producers to make products that can be broken down at the end of their life cycle and H&M's TreeToTextile initiative to make jeans and other fabrics from cellulose.
This troll sculpture made out of scrap wood by artist Thomas Dambo who travels all over the world is of the same kind I saw when I visited Maine's botanical gardens last spring. I was surprised when I stumbled upon it around a corner in Copenhagen, but it was nice to see yet another connection to home.
I don't think this week's craziness will slow down anytime soon. Lundakarnevalen started Friday, and with parades and concerts and the like happening all weekend, I'm sure I will have lots of adventures to tell you about next week. Stay tuned!
Reegan Ketzenberger
Materials Science & Engineering
Undergraduate Research Program at Lund University: Lund, Sweden
1 note
·
View note
Text
¥ Pretty boy ¥
Rich! Izuku midoriya x F! Plus size! reader
Hi everyone!!! this is part of @bakugohoex‘s Collab, you should check the rest of the collab and her works out!!! enjoy!!
Izuku comes from a rich family, owns lavish cars and houses upon houses but all he really wants is you. You come from a humble background, refusing wealth but dealing when izuku wants to spoil you. Izu can literally fuck you anywhere because he is that rich; Nsfw, Fluff, public sex(kinda), smut(kinda? dom izu), reader is kinda a cheapskate.
Sorry it’s so bad; I may continue/ revise based on how this is taken!
“Oh, come on, Y/n! It’ll be so fun, I promise! it’s just one trip; you won’t feel like you did last time!” Memories of the past trip flash through the shapely woman's mind: paparazzi, lavish hotels(yes hotels, he wanted a different view every night), thousand dollar meals, designer boutiques, everything that you had avoided in your life as a pro hero was ironical, as it was all tackled at once.
You loved your boyfriend, and you admire his willingness to give, but this was the main reason you gave a lot of your earnings to health organizations and hotlines, you didn’t feel you needed the money, you were doing just fine without it, eating at home, carpooling to save on gas, helping out at your apartment to get a bit taken off of your rent. But Izuku was born into a life of wealth. Heir to the Yagi fortune, but despite his wealth, you wouldn’t know he was wealthy by simply meeting him.
“Oh, don’t patronize me izuku, you know I would hate that trip, I always hate overly expensive trips, I could get the same trip through my booking sites for half the price, and you know that!” You huff leaning over to fold your laundry. Izuku walks behind you, placing his large hands on your hips and leaning his head on your shoulder. You could feel his pleading look without even looking at him.
“Indulge me, baby. I promise I won’t make it too expensive,” You felt him kiss at your neck, making you sigh until he let out the final part of his argument, a simple,” Please?” You took his hands off your hips and walked away. Izuku sat defeated until he heard you rustle around, cursing as you made a mess of your once clean closet, and came back into the room with a defeated look and a suitcase. “How long are we going for?” Izuku smiled widely and spun you around, his eyes full of love.
----------------time skip to the day of the plans----------------
You gave yourself one last look in the mirror before sighing, regretting agreeing to this trip as you fix your sundress, admiring how the fabric hugs your soft curves perfectly. You knew this vacation would be perfect, that you would love it, but your stubborn mind wanted to fight the potential enjoyment.
Your mouth turned bitter as you internally fought with yourself, going from a fight of stubbornness to a battle against your self-confidence. Your mind picked on everything that wasn’t on your mind before as a deflect of being questioned. Your unpleasant thoughts were interrupted by a certain green-haired man as he walked into the room, stunned at how beautiful you looked in that dress. Distracted by the unmistakable twinkle in his eyes, your thoughts soon disappeared and were replaced with wonder.
“What’re you looking at?” He shook himself out of his trance to approach you with a smile. “Just looking at my beautiful baby girl in that dress, she so horribly fought me on. You look gorgeous, by the way.” His rough hands were felt through the sheer material of the outfit as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles on your wide hips.
You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, looking into his eyes. “Are you ready to go? Cause one more minute, and I may just back out of this.” His eyes go wide as he pulls away and rushes to get everything in the car. Your chuckles are short-lived as he soon comes back and picks you up. “You’re the last thing I need so we can go” you squeak as you remember this man can lift nearly 300 pounds. Why shouldn’t he lift you? Still, every time he lifts you, it comes as a surprise.
He quickly sets you into the car, alarming you with the fact that the driver isn’t any driver at all, it’s one of his close friends, todoroki, and this isn’t even your car; it’s his. “I figured we didn’t need to use the driver and waste money on parking, todo’s gonna drop us off, and I’ll have the driver pick us up after!” Your eyes watered, you knew that the rest of the trip would be extravagant but it was these little things that made you fall in love with him, over and over again. You sat with your hand in his all the way to the airport. You were excited to see new places but dreading the paparazzi.
You stood out of the car, taking in the cool breeze and walking around the car to get to the bags in the back. You bring both of your bags out, along with your carry-ons, and wait for him to finish his conversation with his friend to come to collect his bags. You hear izuku bid him farewell and thank him for the ride before he slips a 20 for gas in his friend’s car and walks to you. “Now don’t be mad...” His eyes shift when he bows his head, preparing to be lectured,” I got first class, and I know you don’t-” You laughed, only calming to rub his shoulder with a smile. “It’s ok! I’ll let it pass.... for now. Now, let’s get our free drink on!”
You’re the first to board, ignoring the dirty looks from the other passengers; you made a vow to enjoy this time.... for izuku’s sake. Your smile didn’t falter, even when the check-in lady gave you a surprising look when you gave her the ticket. You walked onto the plane with confidence; izuku could only say that you looked as if you were born for this… that you belonged here. Your Seats were opened to each other, making a two-bedroom cabin area.
You let izuku walk past you to put your bags to the side and look at the menu. One thing you could never understand is his appetite, he eats more than a group of teenage boys, and he still keeps fit, even if he doesn’t work out. You never found that fair. You shook your head out of the thoughts and sat next to him, searching the tv for a decent channel. You shut off the tv when you saw the news about a new villain, suddenly stressing about the city and what’ll happen if you leave. Your mind flooded with thoughts of the places you love on fire, the people you loved killed and showed as a warning to all the other heroes.
Luckily Deku, who had just finished ordering pretty much the whole menu, sensed your sudden situation and reached over you, pulling the leaver to set your seat back. The sudden movement knocked you out of your daze, causing you to look at the man perched above you with a frustrated look on his face. “You have just been a whirlwind of emotions today, haven’t you? You refuse to calm down; the city will be fine, it’s only a week, and we’re not even going that far!” “but-” “No buts! You don’t want to make me sad, do you?” You sigh, realizing that it was highly improbable for that to happen while you were gone, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. Despite that, you sucked it up, deciding that you might as well enjoy these trips before something happens, after all hero business is very dangerous.
“No Izuku, i don’t” He tilts your chin in order for your eyes to reach his. “Izuku? Really? You know that’s not what i want to hear princess.” You suddenly realize the shift of atmosphere, Izuku’s eyes darkened. “No daddy.” “Good girl.”
He lets his hand drag to the bottom of your dress, pushing up the tinted fabric as he moves his hand to rest on your thigh. Your thighs clench unintentionally when he reaches for the top of your underwear, flinching when he snaps the fabric back onto your skin.
You weren’t used to your soft lover taking the lead, you were the one who took control. You usually calmed your own nerves, with him of course. But you couldn’t think, you couldn't take control, you just had to let him help you, clear your mind and calm you.
You couldn’t help but shiver at the look in his eyes when he’s in control. His eyes darkening,a small glimmer in his eyes is still present but he looks….. Animalistic. You slide your underwear off of your plush form, confidently as he watches you with a ever-growing tent in his pants.
Izuku reached out to your body, holding your soft hip as he moves to slide his form between your thighs. “I don’t think i can be patient much longer beautiful, i may just fuck you like this.” He cups your cheek and uses his thumb to play with your lip, testing how far he can go before sticking his finger in your mouth. You obediently suck on it, watching him bite his lip and shift away to get undressed. “Who says i don’t want you to?”
He quickly takes off his shirt, his scars and freckles littering his tan skin. Izuku's pants are soon to follow allowing his cock to tap his stomach. You always loved how easy it was to get him to get hard, he was always ready for you to fuck him, ready to make love at the mere thought of your full, soft form.
You heard izuku whisper a quick ‘fuck it’ before he grabbed your thighs, wrapping them around his hips and grinding softly onto your soft cunt. Your soft moans fueled the burning fire of his. He grabbed his shaft, lining himself up with your weeping hole. He kissed you deeply before pushing into you, his lips muffling your sweet moans.
His cock throbs as he patiently waits for you to adjust to his girth. Your hips ache, already feeling the pressure of your current activities take it’s toll on your body. Your minds begins to flood with need, processing just how close izuku is, how his muscles feel under your finger tips, how he reacts when you experiment with tightening your smooth walls around him. He waits for you to move, slightly wiggling your hips, before he gives into the feeling, whimpering and keeping a steady pace.
You feel his tip brush against your sweet spot with every thrust, unraveling quicker then you would have liked. Izuku’s blush reaches onto his chest as you moan into his ear, teasing him. He speeds up, ramming into your sweet spot, causing that knot in your stomach to tighten before he shifts to rub at your clit sloppily, letting out lewd noises and tipping you over the edge. Your body freezes, a shaking gasp falling from your lips as you arch your back and your walls flutter and tighten around izuku’s dick. He’s soon to follow, spilling his load over your soft stomach before slowly pulling out and flopping onto his bed besides you.
“That’s one great way to start a shitty trip.” You laugh looking over into his forest eyes. Izuku grabs your hand, kissing your palm and giving you a small smile. “Or just a wonderful way to start a potentially amazing trip. You promised you’d let me spoil you this time, so let me use my money to give you comfort. Ok?” You nod, adjusting your seat to be upright again, and lean over to the champagne. The view out the window is something of beauty as the clouds fold into each other and the sky casts a pink, soft hue onto the white canvas.
Izuku grabs himself a glass, leaning his seat all the way back and putting a complementary eye mask on.
“And besides, the more money we pay, the less people will care where we fuck each other.” He was born into this life, born for it. He was used to this and could be for the rest of his full life.
But izuku would do anything just to be by your side. That’s one thing he can’t pay for.
#izuku midoriya x reader#plus size reader#izuku midoriya x plus size reader#plus size!reader#izuku midoriya#mha x reader#mha x chubby reader#bnha imagines#smut#fluff
768 notes
·
View notes
Text
Artemisia x Fem!Reader: Rays of A Sunrise
Summary: fyrepheonix requested "Artemisia from 300: Rise of An Empire Pls, Enemies to friends to lovers" and an Anon requested "I'm very curious about Artemisia, how about her trying to teach reader how to fight, throwing daggers maybe? Obviously that woman wouldn't waste an opportunity to tease, but also is supportive when reader eventually gets better? It'd be super cool!"
AO3
A/N: You know that fic I kept saying I couldn't stop adding to? This is it. This is a 44-page, almost 15,000 word google doc. I really dedicated myself to this one. It made me really happy to write and to see it all come together, so I really hope you like it! Please let me know 💖
Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @evil-feather @simplaif @escapetodreamworld @littlewitch-things @nonbinary-cryptid-baby @imtrashinflames @elenaguarnieri @angel7376
Warning(s): Mild Violence
There are few things more beautiful than a Persian sunrise.
Ever since you were a little girl, you’d wake early and perch on a windowsill, watching as the fiery rays painted the horizon. It was one of the few times the city below was quiet; no shouts of merchants or even the music from the square. Complete and utter peace.
In your position, peace was a rare gift. Days full of conversation and expectation made the mornings like a dream. Until one morning, shouts outside of your door left you agitated. So agitated that you ripped open the door to your chambers in only your nightgown.
You noticed a man first, one you knew well. Then you noticed a woman holding him by the neck. She was beautiful, you noted, but it mattered less than how she was mishandling your friend.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You demanded.
For a brief moment, the woman hesitated. Her eyes met yours and she glared heavily. She wasn’t so beautiful in this moment, she was terrifying. You looked into her eyes and saw only death.
“Removing a threat, your highness. Return to your room.” She said in a brisk tone.
The way she addressed you left you stunned. The rich fabric of her skirts, the golden armor said she was someone who should be important to you. Someone under your father’s thumb. Though she was different. There was more confidence in her shoulders than you’d seen in any of your father’s men. What made her different?
“I will not. This man is my friend, let him go.” You said.
Moving closer to the two of them, there was a beat when you expected her to obey. They always did. Your rank forced them to, whether they cared for you personally or not. The moment never came. Instead, she moved further away from you than before.
This wasn’t a random order. Your father had put her up to this.
“Bahman, tell me you’re not what she says. You’ve been my greatest advisor for years. Was it all a lie?” You asked, realizing that the woman’s favor would be a dead-end.
“No, princess, I swear it. I’d never betray you.” He said.
There were many things you could reasonably say you were good at, others not so much. You were miserable with a bow and arrows and even worse with people at times. But you could always see when someone was lying.
“I believe you,” You smiled, placing a hand on his arm as soon as you could, “He’s innocent. Let him go.”
“Those aren’t my orders, your highness.”
“Will it appease you if I get new ones?”
She stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. There was something curious in her eyes that drew you in. You had a task, however, that you wouldn’t be swayed from. She finally gave you a nod.
You gave Bahman’s arm a reassuring squeeze, folding your arms over your chest and walking away without so much as a glance to the woman. You only cared about getting her away from your friend. Nothing else mattered in this moment.
There was no effort in convincing your father. Despite being a hardened king, he still fell victim to the wants of his little girl. Even if you weren’t so little anymore.
You rushed back to the woman and Bahman with a smug look on your face. Now she’d have to listen to your commands and let your friend go. It’d wipe away some of her overly-confident demeanor. When you returned though, the woman was there and Bahman was not.
“Where is he?” You asked, looking around quickly, panic setting in.
“Your father’s will has been fulfilled, anything beyond that is unimportant.”
“He had a wife and a daughter, what have you done with him?”
“I wouldn’t advise troubling yourself with actions that can not be undone, princess.”
A cold, sweeping emotion covered you. Almost like a veil. It gave you chills, every nerve of your body standing on end as she stood before you. Cold, hard anger was all you could feel. And it would not be tamed.
It wasn’t that she had obviously killed your closest confidant, it wasn’t even that she’d unknowingly disobeyed your father’s order to let Bahman live. It was that she stood before you and had the audacity to look proud of her actions. Of murdering a good man with a beautiful little girl and stealing away the closest thing you had to a true friend.
In a move that was unlike you, you ripped her dagger from its sheath and rushed to plunge it into her chest. Your motions were unplanned and sloppy. They would have made your mentor furious, to see such a lack of form, but it was unimportant to you now. All you wanted was to make her hurt as you did.
She caught your arm swiftly, not moving a muscle otherwise. Her eyes were trained on yours. There was no anger as you expected, though maybe a little surprise.
“I will not fight you, your highness.” She said bluntly.
“I never said you had to.” You ground out.
“I will not allow you to murder me, either. Doing so would not suit you.”
“Don’t ever presume to know anything of me.” You snarled, wrenching your arm from her grasp.
Deep in your heart, you knew she was right. No matter how badly you wished to avenge Bahman, he hated killing, and so did you. It wouldn’t be right to take her life even if you could. But you refused to give her the satisfaction of understanding you at all.
“Stay away from me.”
Your command was harsh and even a bit childish, but the overwhelming emotions in your gut had left your mind blank. Wanting never to see her again was the only thing on your mind. You heard her say something in return. The slamming of your bedroom door made it difficult to hear, not that you cared to in the first place.
Reaching the window, you let out the bitter tears that’d been threatening your composure. Not only had she killed your closest friend, she’d stolen your sunrise too.
----
That afternoon during your court duties you sought to lay out the situation for your father. You’d barely gotten a word in edgewise before he ordered the doors opened and the very person you hoped to avoid led the common people in. A scowl settled on your face.
At your side, Xerxes noticed your expression. His eyes flickered between you and the woman, then between you and the common people. Some of them were beginning to shy away from you as a result of your scowl. He elbowed you hard.
Immediately, the scowl dropped and was replaced with a look of confusion. You turned on him with furrowed brows.
“What was that for?” You hissed under your breath, doing your best to remain quiet and not interrupt your father.
“You are creating unrest.” He said shortly.
“Unrest?”
“Your emotions are too plain at times, sister. The common people thought it was meant for them.”
A response was poised on the end of your tongue, only warded off by your father sending a glance towards the two of you. He was still speaking to the people, but the two of you drew his attention anyway. You’d drawn the attention of the people too if only for just a moment.
It was too public for him to say anything at the moment, so you were both spared from what was sure to be a severe reprimand. You carefully refocused your attention on the task at hand and only occasionally threw glares in the direction of the woman. Who, no doubt seeing them, didn’t once acknowledge them.
----
“If I gave an order and it was fulfilled, I will not punish one of my servants for it. Least of all my Naval Commander.”
“You had given another command by then.”
“One you were too slow to deliver, my dear.”
Anger was building in the pit of your stomach. It couldn’t be so hard to realize that what happened was wrong. That at the very least, he deserved to be mourned.
“He was innocent, Baba. Is this the precedent we’re setting, that the royal family murders innocents?” You asked.
His gaze turned cool and you felt the urge to shy away from it. You knew what you were doing - you were no fool to his weaknesses, to the weaknesses of any king. Xerxes had frozen as you spoke and waited for any reaction.
“I’ve said my piece. You may feel as you wish, but that will not change.” Your father said.
“Can we… I’d like to take care of his family at least. Ensuring their prosperity is the least I can do.”
He narrowed his eyes before nodding slowly. The grip he’d maintained on the arms of his throne loosened. You let go of some of your anger, relaxing your shoulders and letting them fall back.
“You may give them as much as they require,” He allowed, “But as the threat has not been located, we will have to be extra careful of those we trust.”
You nodded, simply feeling content with having made some sort of progress. Something was better than nothing. The first step was sending for Bahman’s family and breaking the news, not that you were looking forward to it. From there you could help them to remain stable. And if you couldn’t bring your friend back, the least you could do was take care of his family in his stead.
----
“Good morning, Baba.”
You pointedly ignored a new presence at your table, leaning in to place a kiss on your father’s cheek. He didn’t return your greeting except in a low hum. The hearty meal on his plate was more interesting at this early hour.
Xerxes was seated at the other end of the table, far from you, your father, or your guest. His face was drawn and he made the barest hint of eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but let a look of confusion cross your face, though you didn’t pursue any questioning.
The only open seat was next to the one person you wanted to avoid. You refused to look at her, even as you felt her eyes on you. It took all of your composure not to break out into an angry blush. Instead, you focused intently on the tablecloth, only looking up when one of the servants brought your plate.
“Daughter, you know our Commander, of course?” Your father’s voice finally addressed you.
You resisted the urge to tense your shoulders or roll your eyes at the question. How could you possibly forget her? She was one of the pride and joys of Persia. And a murderer. One that you could never get too far away from.
“Yes, Baba.” You said, offering up a tense smile as you speared a vegetable rather violently.
“She’s here on my request,” He said slowly, making your shoulders finally tense. You knew that tone too well, “The threat has still not been eliminated. I’ve asked her to shadow you as a protective measure.”
The scoff that left your mouth was purely accidental, but you felt the situation called for it. You’d been trained in self-defense since you could hold a knife. Any possible threat to your body was something you could handle, you didn’t need any help on that front. And you certainly didn’t want any from the Commander.
“I’m more than capable of handling myself. The Commander has more important tasks than looking after me, perhaps like taking her fleet to any of the furthest possible shores and doing something productive there,” You stood abruptly, though you had just sat down. Giving your father and brother a tense half-smile, “I believe I’ll finish my breakfast in the library.”
Your servants scrambled to clear your space, as you walked quickly out of the room. A sigh left your father’s mouth while passing, inspiring a fresh pang of guilt. He was only looking to maintain your safety. But you refused to make yourself need Artemisia of all people.
Closing the door to the library, the guilt subsided, though you knew an apology would be warranted later. For now, you felt safe surrounded by the smells of leather and fresh ink. None of the inconveniences of the outside would bother you in this room.
After quite some time of flipping through pages and taking in the information there, the door opened. You assumed it was your friend by the way the sun was hanging in the sky.
“Good Afternoon, Amani. I’ve gotten an early start, so you don’t have to transcribe nearly as many chapters today.” You called out, attempting to clean some of the ink off of your fingers.
When the chair across from you scraped against the floor and there was no response, you looked up curiously. Directly into the amused gaze of none other than Artemisia. Instantly, your body tensed and the smile you wore dropped from your face.
“Commander, I wasn’t sure you knew where the library was.” You commented.
“I took the liberty of figuring out, your highness.” Artemisia responded, your jab not seeming to affect her as she propped open a random book.
You glared openly at her, not caring in the slightest if anyone walked in and noticed. You refused to hide your dislike. Her disregard for anyone but herself was completely at the forefront of your mind. The only time she does anything for anyone else, you thought, is to better her reputation.
“How fortunate for me.”
In an effort to get away from her, you rushed between the high shelves. Fortunately, it allowed you a break, and aided your purposes. You’d finished transcribing an old book of Persian poetry. It was a passing hobby you’d taken up to fill your afternoons. You thought that by transcribing the palace library, it’d make Persia seem more welcoming to those who spoke different languages.
Plucking the next book from the shelf, you eyed it slowly. It would take some time to properly do the work justice. When you turned to move back to the table, Artemisia was standing there. You jumped and let out a slight noise.
“What the- Go back to the table and stop frightening me.” You demanded.
“I have to ensure your security. The threat could be lying here in wait.”
“In the library? That’s unlikely.”
“It’s unlikely until someone runs a sword through your chest. You spend most of your time in the library, making it the perfect place.”
“Nobody is in here, I unlock the doors myself.” You grit out, shoving past her.
“Locks can be picked and doors can be locked from the inside,” Artemisia sighed, showing the first sign of emotion besides pride, “If this is to work, your highness, you must stop fighting me.”
You bit back the words on your tongue. If you allowed yourself to speak in anger, you’d come off differently than you intended. Your anger made you foolish, daresay childish. That was the last demeanor you wanted to project as a royal. Especially to someone who’d likely enjoy the glimpse into your anger.
“Fine,” You said finally, “But I have terms of this… arrangement.”
“Name them, your highness.”
“One, we don’t speak unless I choose to speak with you; I’ve had enough conversation with you to last a lifetime. Don't get friendly. Secondly, don’t hover, it’s distracting. You can watch me and keep me safe at a distance. Understood?”
“Perfectly.”
The unaffected air of Artemisia’s demeanor was perilously close to testing your nerves. You’d lost so much at the extension of her reach; your dearest friend and now your freedom. Part of you wished she’d give you something more to despise. The knowledge of what she’d done while fulfilling orders didn’t feel sufficient.
Anything she did was carefully devoid of emotion. Almost to the point where you began questioning if she had emotions at all. You would glance at her more than proper, searching for any clues. A part of you began scheming on how to make her react.
Artemisia only moved when something else around her moved. Servants or advisors would enter the library and she’d watch them critically, scanning them for anything she deemed to be a threat. If you moved, she would watch then too, following at a safe distance if you moved out of her original range.
Nothing caught her off guard. The opening of the library door didn’t startle her, neither did the moments you’d abruptly stand up. It was like she’d been trained not to have reactions. The cold, empty expression she wore was driving you mad; you wanted to know how to break it. You wanted to know how to break her.
Your father had many soldiers of a similar bearing, but you’d even seen them break before. A surprising command or swift punishment would warrant the slightest change, their eyebrows would lift higher on their faces or they’d make brief eye contact with one another.
Artemisia, you unfortunately kept realizing, was entirely different.
So caught in your thoughts, you failed to notice someone else enter the library. There was a buzzing in your ears until it took a familiar shape, forming words.
“Your highness?” A voice broke through, making you look up. From the expression on her face it hadn’t been the first time he called for you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could swear that you saw Artemisia glance over.
“Yes?” You asked, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter than before.
“Fairuza, wife of Bahman, is waiting for an audience in the throne room.”
His words sobered you up. You had called her from her home to tell her the news in person, now you wondered if you’d made the right decision. Sweat formed on your palms.
“I’ll be with her shortly.” You said, wincing slightly at the weak thread in your voice.
He nodded, bowing before you and then taking his leave. The silence felt heavier as thoughts went through your mind. You felt wholly unprepared to give her the news, even more unprepared to handle her reaction to it.
You stood slowly, ignoring the weak feeling in your legs. The walk from the library to the throne room felt painfully long. So lost in your anxiousness and fear, you didn’t have any feelings towards Artemisia following at a distance. If things were different, you mused, you might feel more angry about it.
Upon entering the room, you scarcely had time to breathe before a body slammed into yours. You stumbled, righting yourself just before you fell. A warm hand on your lower back aided you briefly before it was gone.
“Anahita, my love, be careful. We don’t wish to injure her highness.” Fairuza’s voice admonished.
“It’s quite alright,” You said, finally gathering your bearings, “I’m very excited to see her as well.”
You hesitantly ran a hand through the girl’s hair, watching as she beamed. It broke your heart. You didn’t want to taint her heart with the news, to dull her smile when she learns her beloved Baba wasn’t coming home to her. A shaky inhale was all you could do to fortify yourself.
“Your highness, I’m sure you’re busy so we won’t keep you. What have we done to earn the honor of your summons?”
Fairuza meant well, but you wished you had more time. You had no idea how to break such news to someone. In the past, when someone was executed, they had been guilty of a crime. How do you tell a loyal woman that her innocent husband was executed in your service?
“I’m afraid this might be something too… sensitive for little ears.” You said.
“That’s alright, your highness. Anahita is a big girl now.”
You wanted to argue against that statement, but knew it wasn’t your place. You may be a princess, but you were in no way a mother. Faruzia’s judgement was absolute in regards to her daughter.
“Fairuza, Bahman... Bahman won’t be returning home.”
A pin dropping would have felt painfully loud. The silence dragged on, like a punishment for a crime you hadn’t committed. Fairuza’s face crumpled and you wanted to reach out, but she regained her composure just in time.
“What happened?” She asked.
“He was suspected of being a traitor to us.”
“And was he?”
“No. No, he was innocent.”
“Then why was he... “ She tried, but was unable to finish when she looked down at Anahita, who was oblivious to the entire situation.
“The order was carried out before anyone could vouch for his innocence.” You said.
“Who carried out the order, your highness?”
There was a deep, overwhelming emotion in her eyes that you’d never seen. It made you feel ill to even meet her eyes. You couldn’t imagine the pain this brought her, the pain she’d live with for the rest of her life. At your side, your fingers twitched with the desire to point behind you.
“I don’t know.” You said, the words spilling from your mouth unchecked.
Behind you, you heard a sudden inhale. You hated that she’d choose now to show any sense of emotion. It stole any sense of satisfaction you had. You’d caught her off guard, but at what price?
Fairuza nodded slowly. Her fists gripped at her skirts, knuckles turning white with the force of it. You felt for her, but you were also in awe of her composure. You were sure that if you’d been in her situation, you may have reacted much differently.
“Thank you for bringing me here and breaking the news, your highness. We won’t trouble you any further.”
The quick turn-around surprised you, catching you off guard long enough for Fairuza to have collected Anahita. You blinked at her hurry. You were in no such rush to urge them away from you or out of the castle.
“Fairuza, wait,” You called as your mind finally caught up, “This can’t be easy in any way, but I would like to help your family. That way you can all live as you have.”
“I couldn’t accept that, your highness, it-”
“Please, Bahman would want you to be secure.” You interrupted, reaching out and taking the woman’s hands. She stared down at them, not daring to make eye contact with a royal.
A set of eyes felt as if they were burning holes into your back. You wanted to turn around and say anything right about now; tell her to mind her own business, to know her place, anything. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to even acknowledge her at the moment.
You couldn’t ignore that you’d lied on her behalf, protected her against the family of the man she’d killed. Some instinctual part of you had spoken before your brain could tell you not to.
“Thank you, princess, that’s very kind of you.”
Fairuza’s hands squeezed yours before they pulled away, resting on the shoulders of her daughter. You offered what you hoped was a convincing smile. A glinting caught your attention, your eyes drawn to a beautiful necklace resting at her throat. It boasted a beautiful blue pendant, though you couldn’t figure out what it was made of. You snapped back into the moment, feeling embarrassed at how much time you’d let pass.
“No thanks are necessary. The resources you require will be delivered to your home by the morning’s end tomorrow.”
Two of the palace guards escorted them from the room. Before they were completely out of sight, Anahita turned and offered you a small wave goodbye. You returned it instinctually.
As the doors closed, you felt exhausted. Would that be the last time you saw the girl so happy? You wrapped your arms around yourself while the thoughts swarmed. You could have done more, your mind insisted, you could have saved him.
A particularly heavy breath from the woman behind you reminded you where you were. In an instant, you stood completely straight, turning away from where you’d just been. You avoided any and all eye contact with Artemisia as you walked away.
——
The next few days following the meeting found you struggling and throwing yourself into a self-induced isolation as a result. Besides your chambers, the only place you wandered to was the library. You would reside there until long after the sun had set and you had to squint against the candle light to read the pages.
Artemisia bid you a goodnight long before then, in accordance with your father’s new rules; since the threat hadn’t been eliminated or even found out, he wanted the Commander fully on her guard. Every night as the sun touched the horizon, she would excuse herself quietly, and one of your father’s personal guards would replace her until the early morning.
This change gave you what felt like a break from her. From trying to decipher why you couldn’t get her out of your head. Every thought was consumed in some way with her, whether it meant figuring her out or figuring out your reactions to her. It also meant that you were allowed to seriously overwhelm yourself without anyone stepping in. The personal guards were made to be seen, not heard, and they certainly wouldn’t go beyond their bounds to advise you in any way. Only the Commander had the courage to do that. But then again, only the Commander had the advice the crown needed.
Around the middle of the morning, your head would finally drop to the table, and you’d sleep blissfully for half an hour. Then your misery would creep back in and torture you, plaguing you with nightmares. You were lucky to wake up before they went too far.
You’d throw yourself back into your books, content to pretend nothing had ever occurred.
——
One of the following nights, Artemisia did not excuse herself like normal. You worried that maybe you’d misjudged the time until the sky turned black and she was still present.
“Commander,” You asked, “Isn’t it past the bed-time my father set for you?”
You couldn’t help a little tug at the corner of your lips, thinking yourself rather clever.
“Yes, but your father could not spare any of his guard this evening.” She answered neutrally, though you could swear she’d looked the slightest bit amused.
“Why is that?”
“I’m afraid that information is not for anyone's ears but my own.”
“Did my father state that explicitly?”
“Yes.” Artemisia said, raising an eyebrow. She was clearly waiting for you to fight her on this.
Grumbling for a few moments, you went back to your work. You wanted to challenge her on this point and say that as a royal, you were one of the few the rules didn’t completely apply to, but you didn’t have the energy to form such an argument. Your brain felt like it was running in circles. The amount of mistranslations you’d written and scrubbed away to a testament to that.
It wasn’t until you knocked over a vial of ink that you truly felt something besides exhaustion. A large wave of anger slammed into you and as a result, you finally slammed the book shut and tossed it down the table. Unaware of the ink covering your hands, you dragged them down your face, staining part of your cheek.
You let your head rest in your palms, barely fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids. Sleep was beckoning and you went willingly.
When a hand gently shook you awake, you had little idea how much time had passed. You didn’t care at the moment. Your only focus was on who was touching you.
“Princess,” Artemisia’s voice finally whispered into your ear, “You should return to your chambers.”
“Hm?” You asked, blinking as her face blurred and unblurred in your vision, “No, I’m content to stay here. My book…”
“Your book is halfway down the table and you’ve spilled your ink. Half of it went to fixing the basic mistakes in your work. It will be here in the morning.” She said, leaving no room for argument.
Staring down the table at the book, you had absolutely no desire to retrieve it. The thought of your plush bed was sounding more enticing with each passing second. You nodded, standing up slowly, not paying too much attention to the warm hand on your arm leading you from the large room.
The walk to your chambers passed in a haze and you only realized where you were when the Commander opened the door for you. A small pang of shame hit you in the chest, but it was quickly overtaken by your exhaustion.
You went to throw yourself in bed when Artemisia’s hold on your arm tightened. Turning just barely, her other hand gripped your chin and turned your face. The hold surprised you and stirred up a peculiar feeling in your gut. Unbidden, your gaze dropped to her lips for a moment before you caught yourself.
“You’ve covered your face in ink. It will stain if it isn’t removed.” Artemisia said, eyes focused on the spot, rubbing at the blemish with her thumb.
“I can take care of it.” You whispered.
She nodded, dropping her hold on you and stepping back. Your body felt much colder than before as she went to stand guard outside.
“Goodnight, Commander.” You called out before she could close the door.
You’d caught her off guard and she looked back with an indescribable look. She nodded, one hand on the door pulling it shut, though not before returning the sentiment, “Goodnight.”
——
Recovering from your brief stint of sleeplessness, you felt a mortified feeling settle in the next morning. You despised the way you’d left yourself vulnerable to so much by not properly caring for yourself. Anyone could have posed a threat, but you wouldn’t have known.
Another part of your mind was refusing to acknowledge the kindness Artemisia had shown you the night before. If she hadn’t forced you to return to your room for a proper night of rest, no one would have. You felt you owed her.
Your gut still twisted with an unpleasant anger at the thought of her, but it couldn’t be said that you were unreasonable. She’d shown you a great deal of kindness and you intended to repay her. Then the two of you would be even and you could go right back to despising her.
“Good morning, Commander.” You said, pulling the doors open and offering her the smallest smile you could without seeming overly warm.
“Good morning, princess,” She greeted you.
Her eyes squared in on your cheek, piquing your curiosity, before understanding flooded you. Visions of her hold on you, her face an inch away from yours only hours before made your face hot. You were ashamed that she’d flustered you without trying.
“I hope your night was quiet.” You said, clearing your throat loudly in the quiet space.
“It was.”
You were walking towards the library slower than normal. Her presence at your side drew your attention, staring into her face rather than at the path ahead. She guided the both of you with ease.
“Have you gotten any rest?” You asked.
For a moment, her eyes moved away from the hall in front of you, meeting yours. She narrowed them as if searching for something. As quickly as she’d done it, her focus was directed back away from you.
“Guarding you is not an opportunity for rest.” She answered finally.
“I wouldn’t have minded. You need your rest as much as I do, if not more.”
“Leaving you unprotected would be irresponsible.”
“So is attempting to protect me with no rest,” Turning her eyes to yours, the two of you locked your gazes in a silent battle, “Lack of sleep impairs judgement, Commander.”
“For you, that may be.”
The two of you arrived at the library doors and you dug into your pocket for the key, only to find your pockets empty. Instead, the intricate brass tool was being held out in front of you. You took it but found yourself distracted while sliding it into the lock. You had no recollection of giving Artemisia the key or of locking the doors. The thought of how many details you were missing nagged at your mind.
Seeing the layout of the library, it remained the way you remembered. Your book laid crooked on the end of the table nearest to you, the spilled ink sat in a half-dried puddle. The fact that it was still wet proved how recently you’d actually been in the room.
You wordlessly settled into a routine, Artemisia standing just inside the door as always. Removing the ink from the wooden table had been easy enough, but you were glad you hadn’t dressed nicely, as drops of ink had colored your skirt.
The door opened and you looked up, watching curiously as one of the castle servants came to clean up the ink. She flushed when she realized you’d already taken care of it.
“My apologies, your highness,” She said, looking at you in worry, “I should have arrived sooner.”
You heard what she was saying to you and your brain was processing it, but your eyes were focused entirely on Artemisia. When the library doors opened, you caught on to an unconscious system; in quick motions, her back would straighten and her hand would fall to the sword on her hip. This time she’d been clumsy, hand missing the hilt of her sword at first. To anyone else it would have been nothing. To you, it spoke volumes to her exhaustion.
More time than appropriate had passed since the timid servant had spoken and you gave her a kind smile, “It’s not a problem, but would you be kind enough to dispose of the rags for me?”
“Of course, your highness.”
The situation was taken care of in no time and the doors shut once more, leaving only you and Artemisia in the room. Her eyes were focused straight ahead, even though yours were focused directly on her, “Commander.” You called.
“Your highness.”
“You’re tired.”
“I’m perfectly rested-”
“Commander, I’m not blind. Lack of sleep will topple even the most formidable leaders. I’m not going anywhere, lay down.” You motioned to a couch just at your left. It wasn’t the most comfortable seat available, but it’d do the trick.
“I will not leave you vulnerable.”
“Will it put you at ease if I lock the doors until you’ve gotten enough rest?”
She looked to be mulling over the idea before she gave you one slow nod. You were on your feet and locking the doors in an instant. Gently, you pushed her over towards the couch. The touch only lasted a few seconds at most, but it was enough to earn you a grumble from the other woman. She didn’t enjoy being handled, it seemed.
Her move to the couch was slow and hesitant. At any second, you expected her to abandon the pursuit and return to her post. She surprised you by actually taking a seat.
Artemisia never looked anything less than composed at all times, but there was something in her form speaking to her discomfort. You avoided looking at her for longer than a moment. If it were you, you reasoned, it’d make you largely uncomfortable to be watched in your sleep.
It didn’t take long for her to fall into sleep. You only knew because her breathing grew heavier in sleep, a fact you tucked away in your mind. Despite your focus on the book before you, you found your eyes drifting back to her. The lack of a blanket rubbed you the wrong way.
You remembered one from the previous day, tucked in the back of the library among the unorganized books. Quietly, you tiptoed back to the area, locating it rather quickly. It was a rich blue color almost like the sea.
Before you could reach for it, a hand clapped around your wrist and made you yelp. You whipped around to see Artemisia was the perpetrator.
“Why in the world are you sneaking up behind me?” You snapped.
“You moved out of my sights.”
“You were asleep, I was out of your sights no matter where I was! Was it so terrible for me to get you a blanket?”
“It was when you’re oblivious to the threats around you.”
“What the hell are you on about, Commander? I’m in no more danger now than I am at the table.” You rolled your eyes, leveling a glare at her.
She didn’t react to your words or your glare, seemingly as if she hadn’t heard them. Her eyes focused behind you before landing back on your own, “Look at the blanket, your highness.”
“What?”
“Look at the blanket.”
“You’re losing your mind, Commander. What in the world am I going to see-”
When you looked back at the blanket, movement caught your eye. You squinted at the object curiously. Then it came again; only this time you made out a bright, lithe form moving among the fabric. The light reflected off of the blue coloring of the body. You backed away, right into Artemisia’s form.
“What is that?” You whispered harshly, looking up at her.
“A snake.” She answered, eyes never leaving the spot in front of you.
“I’m not stupid. What is it doing in my library?”
“I’d gather that it’s the work of whoever wishes to harm your family.”
A chill ran down your spine at the images in your head. You would have grabbed the cloth, completely unsuspecting until a pair of fangs sank into your arm. Only then would you have noticed what had happened. By that point, no matter what you’d done, Artemisia wouldn’t have been able to help you.
You leaned back against her, your legs feeling heavy. Your wrist felt cold as she finally released it, wrapping her arm around your waist to keep you standing.
“I need to dispose of it, your highness.” Artemisia said, the words soft against your ear. You could only nod. With no small amount of composure, you moved to a nearby seat, not trusting your legs.
She drew her sword from the sheath at her hip, nudging the blanket with the sharp end. The snake slithered around it before a mean-looking face appeared. It’s forked tongue shot out, the mouth opening entirely as it hissed.
Not held back by any fear, Artemisia swung up with her sword, ending the threat. You couldn’t watch and looked intently at your feet.
A hand came into view; palm up, waiting only for your own. You took the offered appendage and stood with her help. The threat had been only that, a threat - until now. Now it wasn’t truly a threat, but a promise. They were coming after your family--after you--and it was only a matter of time.
“Thank you.” You whispered weakly.
“Of course.”
Absentmindedly, you wondered if she meant it. She was doing a duty to someone else, always acting as if it was nothing beyond that. You had to think that some of it was. Not everything she’d done for you could be orders, could it? The thought that it very well could be left a hollow feeling in your stomach, though you couldn’t fathom why.
She took the key to the doors from your hand and opened them, yelling something you couldn’t make out at someone you couldn’t see. You sat there as she closed it and glanced over to you, before taking care of the scene behind you.
Within a few minutes, the door burst open and your father marched in, a number of guards at his back. He moved to your side, glancing you over.
“How did this happen?” He asked clearly, in a tone that you knew wasn’t meant for you.
“Someone must have access to the library, your majesty. I locked the doors personally before leaving last night.” Artemisia answered, voice as stiff as her form surely was.
“Who frequents this room?”
“Besides multiple servants, the most frequent visitor is Amani, who helps transcribe the books here.”
“It’s not Amani.” You said immediately, “I’d know.”
“With all due respect, my daughter, you have no way of knowing any of this. None of us do. We need to follow any lead we may have,” King Darius said, looking away from you, “Commander.”
You didn’t have to look at her to know she’d given a nod. The heavy material of her skirts and the clink of her armor alerted you to her movements. If her father was sending her, you knew it wasn’t answers she’d come back with, but blood.
“Commander, don’t.” You said, catching her arm as she moved past. She stopped and looked at your hand on her for a long moment, “Please.”
Only a sharp inhale let you know that she’d really heard you. Placing a hand atop yours and removing it from her arm, all she offered was a squeeze. You looked away with a sinking feeling of acceptance. Your father’s orders came first.
She left the room to fulfill his wishes without so much as a backwards glance. Your father pressed a kiss to your temple, before following after the Commander.
----
You waited in the library for the rest of the day with your father’s guards remaining inside of the door. A part of you couldn’t help but despise them, not for being there, but for being where the Commander should have been. Every time the door opened it was only a servant. Though you jumped up just the same with each entrance.
The hours passed in a blur. You couldn’t focus, every movement around you catching your attention. The doors remained closed for so long that you wondered if they’d ever open again.
Then they did.
You sat up straighter, but it wasn’t the Commander who walked through the doors. It was Amani. She looked shaken, but didn’t have a scratch on her.
“Amani? Are you alright?” You asked softly, standing to greet her.
“I’m… Yes, your highness, just shaken.”
“What happened?”
“His majesty and the Commander came to question me about my time here and… a serpent?”
The woman’s voice was full of enough confusion to confirm your initial thoughts. She hadn’t been the one to place the serpent. You were triumphant in that, but shocked to see her in one piece. Mercy in any form wasn’t Artemisia’s goal.
It seemed she’d made an exception.
----
When you saw her, it would have been all too easy to let the act slide, but you couldn’t. It meant the world to you. You couldn’t imagine it was easy to go against her nature, the habits of battle she’d formed, but she had. She’d done it for you.
“I saw Amani this morning.” You commented offhandedly. Just barely glancing from the pages of your book, she gave you a knowing look.
“I would hope so, your highness. You do work with her.”
You gave her a glare, though there was nothing really behind it. It’d be easier if she wasn’t so cagey about the kind things she did. Though you reasoned they were few and far between. They were certainly not in line with her character either, but that’s what made it so satisfying.
“Thank you... Artemisia” You whispered softly, finally meeting her eyes. You didn’t need to specify what you were thanking her for.
She blinked slowly as if she hadn’t heard you correctly. It made you wonder how long it’d been since anyone had spoken to her and not the Commander. Your heart ached in sympathy. It was one thing to be proud of your rank, but it was another to be completely defined by it - to be nothing else.
For once, her stare was filled with something else. Some emotion you couldn’t decipher. Had you made a mistake, being so informal with her? You opened your mouth to apologize, to do anything to relieve the tension, when she beat you to it.
“You’re welcome.” Artemisia returned in the same soft tone.
Her voice sent a chill through you that you couldn’t decipher, but you wrote it off as the quick change in your own emotions. You shared a nod before returning to your duties. Though you couldn’t help but glance back at her, surprised to see her still watching.
----
“Commander?” You said, immediately opening the door to your chambers to ask her a question. The thought of impropriety didn’t bother you much, but she was sure to keep her eyes away from you.
“Yes?”
“Is General Ahmand going to be part of tonight's celebration?”
“I believe so, your highness.”
You groaned, letting your head fall against the doorframe with a thunk. Artemisia raised an eyebrow, hazarding a glance to you from the corner of her eyes. She looked away as you raised your head.
“General Ahmand has a misguided belief that I harbor affections towards him and seeks to gain my attention at every celebration. I have no desire to interact with him, will you remain close to me?”
Asking the question felt like forcing daggers from your throat. It felt uncomfortable, asking her for help, even though she’d offer it anyway. You’d never willingly let yourself need her before. It was why you’d opened the door in only a slip, so she couldn’t look through you and see such thoughts.
“If you wish it, then it will be so.” Artemisia answered.
Nodding, you lingered there. You wished that there was more to say. More to offer her so she understood your gratitude, but nothing came to mind. None of it felt good enough.
You disappeared back into your chambers as quietly as you’d first appeared.
----
Just as you’d requested, Artemisia stood at your side stoically. One hand rested on the hilt of her sword with the other folded behind her back. Those who approached you did so with visible hesitance, casting multiple glances in the Commander’s direction. You felt relieved that she warded off any unwanted attention.
At least, she did until the drinks began to flow.
You’d had a drink yourself, as was customary. But only one. Any more than that and you would have regretted it later. Experience is the best teacher, as you unfortunately learned years prior.
Everyone laughed louder when they were intoxicated. It was a pleasant sound to cover up an unpleasant thing. Most of the people in the room would be perfectly behaved here in the palace, only to turn later. Normal hands would become rough, melodic voices would go rough. It dissolved any composure that evolution created.
“I believe if Lady H has another drink, she may fall into bed with the wrong person.” You muttered softly to the Commander, hiding your amusement behind the rim of your glass.
Artemisia’s mouth turned up in her version of a smile. You couldn’t help the satisfaction it rendered to know you’d caused her reaction.
“I’m afraid I must disagree.” She said in return.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Her husband won’t allow her enough freedom to do so.”
The two of you made brief eye contact and you gave her a nod. She was right, you had to admit. Despite the past of Lady H, her husband suffered from too much insecurity to let her out of his sights.
“It feels like such a shame for her talents-” You started, only to be cut off.
“My dear princess,” A sickly sweet voice came from behind you. You rolled your eyes, watching as Artemisia tried to hide a smirk, “What a pleasure it is to see you.”
“General Ahmand,” You turned around, plastering on a fake smile, “What a surprise.”
“I had hoped you would be in attendance, your highness, but I didn’t dare expect. You have many worthier prospects.”
“That I do, but it is a celebration worthy of my attendance. The conquest of Athens is no small feat. I would never dare to slight those who’ve had such a victory.”
“How generous and wise of you, dear princess. Might I trouble your generosity for a dance?”
From beside you, you watched Artemisia clamp her teeth down on her lip. A smile threatened her composure. You wanted to throw a glare her way, but the General’s gaze didn’t waver enough to allow it.
“I’m flattered, General Ahmand, but I am saving my dances for those we’re celebrating tonight. You understand, of course?” You asked with a smile.
His own smile faded, but he wouldn’t dare argue. Not nearly enough alcohol had been consumed to loosen his sense of propriety.
“Of course. Allow me to release your attention, your highness.”
You gave him a nod and tried to maintain face while he left. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that you let the pleasant smile drop and released a low groan.
“How generous you are to reject me, your highness.” Artemisia mocked under her breath, smirk firmly in place.
“Hush.” You whispered.
“But of course, your highness. Your spotless wisdom is law, your highness.”
A laugh erupted from you unbidden, which you covered up with a cough. The action drew the attention from those around you, but no one questioned it. You only offered a smile to relieve their suspicions.
“You’re terrible.” You said, swatting at her arm once all eyes had left you.
“Am I? If there was an altar dedicated to you, he would live upon its steps.”
“Is it so horrible to be admired, Commander?”
“Not at all. Though I wouldn’t take pride in the admiration of General Ahmand.”
“Come now, who wouldn’t want the attention of a man whose only goal is to gain my father’s favor? He may be more in love with my father than I, but what man isn’t these days?” You said, earning a breath of laughter for your efforts. You tried not to look overly proud of yourself.
The two of you remained side-by-side, Artemisia standing at attention when others came to speak with you. She had little to say and only spoke when prompted, offering nothing beyond pleasantries. Her true humor only revealed when the two of you stood alone.
You had to admit you were enjoying the event more than you expected. The music was pleasant and the atmosphere was calm, more so than any previous night like this. You’d never felt so at ease.
Eventually, to your utter dread, the heroes of the night called on you to claim their dances. With a swift hand, you had been dragged away from your protector before you could realize. Now you found yourself being passed through the group, one dance each, as was custom. They told you stories of battle as you danced, leaving you in awe of many tactical feats.
Much to your dismay, you were joined in a dance by the last hero. You wished to relive all of the dances and hear their stories over again. It must have shown on your face, as the man quirked an eyebrow at your demeanor.
“Is something wrong, your highness?”
“Oh, no, I’m quite alright,” You assured him, “I’m only regretting that the dances are over. Your comrades have wonderful stories.”
“That they do. A life in battle makes you rather skilled in retelling your battles. They’re much better than I, unfortunately.”
“I find that hard to believe. You must have your own way of telling a story that they do not.”
“Not a way that is completed in a single dance, your highness.”
Disappointment flooded you as the song drew to a close and the man bowed. You offered him a nod, making your way back to the Commander. Curiosity gnawed at you, made you wonder if the Commander had similar stories of her own battles. Warmth blossomed in your chest at the thought of her animatedly recounting such a story.
When you returned to her side, you offered her a smile. She didn’t return it, she never did, but neither did she offer any sign of amusement or pleasantness. You felt the warmth in your chest wilt slightly.
“Do you ever tell stories, Commander?” You asked, hoping to break away from whatever was happening.
“Stories?”
“Yes, of your time in battle. Your triumphs and conquests laid out in detail. Our guests were offering me a brilliant retelling of their most recent battles. I was quite enchanted.”
There had been a spark of interest when you first began to explain, but it vanished shortly after. Her eyes were unbearably indifferent. Anything you had experienced earlier, any sign of amusement, was gone.
“I’m afraid I have more important duties than storytelling, your highness.” Was all she offered.
You felt embarrassed that you’d ever asked for such a thing from her and nodded. Silence surrounded you as the music ran down and she escorted you back to your chambers. You tried to ignore the hurt sitting in your chest as you fell asleep.
----
When you woke up, your chambers were still covered in darkness. You couldn’t imagine why you’d woken up until a noise caught your attention.
A soft, hissing noise came from your right. The moonlight coming from the outside illuminated the room enough to give you a glimpse of something. It reflected off of something smooth, but something… moving. You pressed yourself against the headboard as you tried to focus more on it.
Two dark, beady eyes stared back. A forked tongue visible in the sliver of light you had. Cold terror shot through you as you realized what you were seeing.
“Commander!” You tried to call out, but your voice broke, “Commander!”
Complete silence.
The snake moved forward curiously, moonlight catching the scales as it moved. It could’ve been a beautiful sight if it didn’t mean a horrible outcome for you.
“Commander!” You shouted this time.
Nothing.
“What is wrong with you?”
You shrieked as a voice came from your left. Dread filled your bones as Bahman stared back, though you couldn’t figure out why. There was some detail niggling at the back of your brain.
“Why would you call out for her?” He asked, eyes focused unblinkingly on you.
“She… She’s protecting me.” You answered.
“You’ve let yourself rely on her. On the woman who killed me,” He snarled, walking forward. That detail was suddenly crystal clear as you leaned away from him, “You deserve this fate.”
The question of ‘what fate?’ was on your lips, but pain erupted in your body before you could release them. Two razor sharp fangs had imbedded themselves in your leg, leaving you feeling faint already.
“Artemisia!” You screamed.
Two hands on your arms ripped you from the nightmare, barely stopping you from colliding with a strong body as you shot up out of the bed.
“Your highness,” A voice rang in your ears as the hands held you steady, “Your highness, you’re alright.”
It was the Commander. She sat on the edge of your bed, hands on your upper arms, holding you in place. Relief washed over you. It’d only been a nightmare.
“I’m sorry, Commander,” You whispered, throat aching against the action, “What can I do for you?”
Confusion was painted on her face and you couldn’t figure out why. She had come to wake you because there was something she needed, right?
“I don’t require anything from you.”
“Then why did you wake me?”
“You screamed.”
“Oh.” You said, blushing at your own absentmindedness.
A few moments of silence reigned, your mind working in a million different ways. Her hands finally smoothed over you and she released a sigh. You looked at her, but you could only catch a glimpse of her side profile, outlined against what little moonlight existed.
“Rest, your highness,” Artemisia said quietly, standing up and letting go of you. You felt a loss of comfort at the action. But you nodded and turned over, listening as she left the room, and falling asleep shortly after.
----
It was an unspoken decision that the nightmare wouldn’t be discussed. The two of you went about your day as if it never happened, though it was all you could think about. Your heart had felt like it’d beat out of your chest, your mind screaming that you needed the Commander. The Commander would keep you safe. A deep swell of pain had captured your heart when she hadn’t come.
You didn’t like any of it. There had never been a desire to rely on someone so heavily before. You couldn’t--and wouldn’t--acknowledge how it felt. Your work became a much more interesting prospect.
For the first time since you were a child, you were fully engaged in your duties around the palace. You forced yourself to pay complete attention at court, to participate, all of it. You left no opportunity for distraction.
It earned you a surprised, but proud look from your father. You were always well behaved at court though never like this. Normally, you were focused elsewhere. In the library, mainly, though you had other habits— habits you’d been sorely neglecting as of that.
That was how you found yourself out on the training grounds, trying and failing to throw your knives at the targets. You focused all of your thoughts into your movements, but would find them drifting back to the presence behind you.
Ten knives so far, only one hit the target. The edge of it, that is.
“Would you like some assistance?” Artemisia asked. You grit your teeth against the smile you could detect in her voice.
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” You said without turning around.
“I see, your goal is to miss the target.”
You turned to glare at her, only to see her approaching anyway with a smug smirk. She turned you back around so that you were facing the target, guiding your arm.
“Start with your arm back here and when it reaches your ear, release the knife.”
Nodding, you did your best to focus on her words and not the sudden way her hands had been on you. Your eyes zeroed in on the target and you swung, releasing the knife as she instructed, but it still failed to accurately hit the target. She let out a curious hum.
“Your form is your downfall. Correct your feet.” She instructed.
You moved your feet into what you thought was the right stance, but she sighed. Part of you wished to give up on the whole endeavor and return to the library. Knives, swords, and armor had never been your expertise -- or even your goal.
A hand grabbed your ankle and you jumped, letting out a squeak. The Commander looked up into your eyes and waited patiently for you to recover. You wished she wouldn’t attempt to move you without warning, but your request was likely to get you nothing but an eye roll. Slowly, you returned to your former placement.
“Are you sure you were trained by the army commander?” She asked, correcting the direction and placement of your stance.
“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”
“I find it difficult to believe anyone he trained could have such an atrocious stance.”
A scowl replaced what had previously been a curious expression. She made no efforts to act ashamed of her comment.
“You do realize you’re within kicking range.” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Sure it was childish, but it would serve her right, you thought.
“I’m well aware,” Artemisia said, but was unbothered as she also corrected your posture, “Keep your abdomen tight. Don’t slouch. Now, go again.”
It wasn’t often that someone else was giving you orders, but you obeyed them nonetheless. Taking a deep breath in, you held it, and went through the motions a few times as practice. On the third practice swing, the knife flew from your hand unrestricted. It landed just outside of the bullseye.
You clapped your hands together in front of you and turned to her, a triumphant smile playing on your lips. She stared at the target for a beat before offering a nod.
“Not terrible.”
Not the most warm compliment, but you took it. You felt invigorated by the small achievement and collected your knives to continue practicing. Over the course of another hour, you had moved your aim closer to the bullseye, but had not managed to hit it. You called it a day when anger began to build.
It had been your hope to impress the Commander with a significant improvement. When none seemed forthcoming, frustration quickly festered in your gut. Ending the session before you became irrationally upset seemed the best course of action.
You walked away from the target and Artemisia followed behind quietly. She feared nothing, but the set of your shoulders left her quiet. Before you disappeared into your chambers to no doubt sulk, she cleared her throat.
“You’re a quick study. Mastering the skill won’t take much longer.” She offered.
The urge to let your jaw drop was astounding. You held back, not wanting to humiliate her. It was kind of her to offer you that comfort. Instead, you nodded.
“Thank you, Commander.”
And as you stepped into your chambers, you felt a smile break out onto your face.
----
You threw yourself into training after that. For some time every morning and every evening before dark, you would stand on the training grounds and throw countless knives at targets. Only once had you hit the center.
It’d been a complete accident, if you were being honest with yourself. The rhythm of throwing the knives and the frustration of missing created a lull. Your mind detached from your body as it moved of its own accord. In that mindless state, your knife embedded itself into the very center of the target, knocking you forcefully back into reality.
Excitement coursed through your veins and you immediately turned to beam at the Commander. She offered the closest thing to a smile you’d ever seen before. It wasn’t much beyond the corner of her mouth twitching upwards, but it’d left you on a high for hours afterwards.
Since then you had been attempting to recreate that same easy, mindless state; all so you could see her smile at you again.
----
For weeks after you had been steadily improving on your aim with the knives, but none of them had quite earned you the same reaction. Still, your stubborn nature refused to let you quit. You were going to prove you were capable, you thought, that was the only reason you were working so hard.
The two of you had fallen into a bit of a habit. You would leave your chambers after sunrise for the training grounds and she’d follow, overseeing the training with a sharp eye. Every now and again, she’d give you instructions or adjust your stance, but that was all.
Today, something about the Commander seemed different. Off. Her skin was always a smooth porcelain, but today there was a sickly tinge to it. You didn’t acknowledge it as you didn’t want to bother her. Though it became more pronounced as the day went on, until it felt wrong to ignore it.
“Commander, are you quite alright?” You asked quietly, watching her expression.
“Perfectly fine, your highness.” She answered quickly. Too quickly. The set of her jaw told you otherwise.
“Mm. I call bull.”
There was no time for her to react to your statement, before you had stopped in your walk. You invaded her personal space and pressed the back of your hand to her forehead. The searing heat there startled you almost as much as her lack of reflexes.
“You’re burning up. How long have you been feeling ill?” You asked, pulling a handkerchief from your sleeve to dab at the sweat on her face.
“Since this morning.” Artemisia said stiffly.
“And you’ve been ignoring it since then? Honestly, you’re supposed to be the intelligent one here.” You sighed, grabbing her and pulling her in the direction of the healer, “We’ll get you seen to immediately.”
For a moment, you could see the apprehension on her features. But whatever had gotten to her must have been affecting her more than she was letting on. She didn’t argue or attempt to combat your decision, she didn’t even make a comment on it. It’d rendered her almost mute.
Her body was pressing into your side more and more. She was losing the strength to hold herself up after having done so all day. It inspired a wave of fear in you seeing her so weak, but you tried to maintain a brave face.
“We’re almost there,” You said softly, squeezing the hand in your own, “Then this will all be handled.”
All she offered you was a grunt and you took it. It seemed better than nothing.
You let decorum fly out the window as you reached the healer, practically beating on the door in your haste. The Commander was slender, but almost completely muscle. Her weight against you was almost too much for you to maintain.
“Your highness, what are you-” The healer asked, taking in the situation curiously.
“She’s ill. I need you to see her immediately.” You demanded and entered the room without being invited.
A long, comfortable looking lounger rested against the wall and you made a beeline for it. Artemisia’s legs were still moving and you took that as a good sign. She was still fighting against whatever was overcoming her. You laid her gently on the lounger and dabbed at her brow again. She attempted to push your hand away.
“Stop fighting me. I’m trying to help.” You hissed.
“Go.”
Despite the weakness that was clear in her form, her tone was stern. As if she was back to normal for only a moment. It made you hesitate, looking down at her in disbelief.
“What? I’m not going-”
“It may be better that way, your highness,” The healer spoke up, looking at the woman with an expression that you didn’t like, “I won’t be able to do much if you’re fussing over her as well.”
“Go.” She repeated.
Leaving her side was the last thing you wanted to do, but you also wanted her to get better. If it was better for you to be absent, you accepted, then you would go. You wouldn’t have to like it.
“Fine. I’ll go, but I want to be updated every hour on her condition. And you,” You said sternly, pressing your handkerchief into her clenched fist, “You have to return this to me when you’re well. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Now go.”
You gave the healer a nod, before finally obeying the Commander’s wishes. The thought of leaving the room made you feel sick to your stomach. There had been a look in the healer’s eye, some sort of pity, that you hated. You didn’t want to think about what it would mean.
Every place you attempted to go reminded you of the situation. Her presence lurked in every corner, reminding you of her sharp wit and steady presence. As you had declared, an update was brought to you every hour, but nothing had changed enough to put you at ease. You didn’t touch any of the food your servants brought and you didn’t dare look in the direction of your work.
Nothing could ease the feelings in your gut. The feelings of fear and desperation, but also the thought that you were missing something. Some piece of the situation. It nagged at the back of your mind and wouldn’t let you go.
“Your highness?”
Snapping from your thoughts, you looked up into the tired face of a servant. You realized in a moment that more time had passed than you thought. Sitting up straighter in your chair, you nodded for the servant to go on.
“The healer is requesting your presence, your highness.”
That was all it took. Like a shot, you were off, meeting up with the healer outside of his chambers. He looked as tired as you felt. You knew it’d probably be kind to inquire after him, but you didn’t care about him right now.
“How is she, sir?” You asked, casting anxious glances at the closed doors.
“It has been a long night, princess. She seems to be improving, but…”
“But?”
“I wanted you here in case her health took a turn for the worst. It isn’t unlikely in a case such as this.”
“And what is that?” You said, fingernails digging into your arm folded over your chest. The thought of her not making it had sent your heart into a frantic beat.
“From my expertise, I believe the Commander has been poisoned.” He said patiently.
“Poisoned? That’s not possible, she’s been with me. She hasn’t had time to be poisoned.”
“I understand that, princess, but that is what the signs tell me.”
“Are you sure that your signs can’t be wrong?”
The healer gave a deep sigh. You knew you were being irrationally combative, but it was easier than accepting the possibility of what he was implying.
“I would recommend remaining at her side during this time, your highness. I will be close if you need my services.” He said, exhaustion in his voice.
You nodded and rushed into the room. A faint sliver of moonlight illuminated the space aside from the few torches. Artemisia remained on the lounger where you’d helped her sit, but she was asleep now. As you approached, you could see that her pallor hadn’t improved. The sickly tinge remained and pulled at your chest.
A sheen of sweat covered her face that you could see. Unconsciously, you reached inside of your sleeve for your handkerchief. You realized when you came up empty. The cloth was still clutched firmly in her hand even in sleep. You refused to disturb her, as you had charged her with giving it back to you. Either she’d return it or you didn’t want it at all.
Another cloth laid on a nearby table and you grabbed it. Pulling up a chair as quietly as possible, you settled at her side. You made slow, careful swipes across her face with the towel. She didn’t stir.
“You’ve given me a scare, Commander,” You whispered as you went about your task, “And now the healer is saying things could still go… wrong. That’s unacceptable.”
She didn’t stir or react in the slightest to your words. You hated it. She was a notoriously light sleeper as you’d learned; with less and less guards available from your father, you would lock the library doors every morning and let her rest. The slightest shift in your seat and she’d move, however unconsciously. If you moved, she was awake and out of her seat in seconds.
“The healer says you were poisoned, but I don’t know how. You haven’t moved away from me in days. I think we’d both notice if something had bitten you.”
A thought that maybe you hadn’t put you on edge. Surely even if you missed such a thing, the Commander wouldn’t have. She made up for your lack of awareness of your surroundings.
“Anyway, you’ll be recovered soon. You’re far too stubborn not to be.”
There was a noise outside of the window that drew your attention away. You slowly realized that it was the chirping of birds. Moving over to the curtains, you opened them a little more to peer out, and found yourself surprised at the pink coloring the horizon. The sun was rising.
“I… I’ve been awake all night, it seems,” You said aloud, looking back even though you knew she wouldn’t wake. Returning to her side, you maintained your gaze outside of the window, “The audacity you have to be ill now. This is the last thing I imagined for our first sunrise-”
Oh.
You felt as if someone had reached into your chest and wrapped their fist around your heart. It felt like the organ would stop beating at any moment from the pain you felt. This whole time… It was so clear now; you had fallen in love with the Commander. The sharp, aloof woman had captured your heart.
Now she was laying weak and potentially dying at your side. A feeling of total helplessness washed over you, igniting a fury that you hadn’t expected. You vowed to destroy whoever was behind this.
“You’re not allowed to leave me, Commander,” You whispered finally, “Not until we finish this.”
Overwhelmed by your emotions and the lack of responsiveness, you finally let yourself cry.
----
The first thing you registered was a warm hand on your shoulder. Not gripping it, but resting there. You wondered who was bold enough to touch you so casually.
Raising your head, you winced against the bright light filling the room. Squinting against the light, a pair of eyes met yours. You remembered where you were and who those eyes belonged to.
“You’re awake.” You whispered, not bothering to stop your smile.
“I am.” Artemisia nodded, “It’s comforting that your skills of deduction haven’t abandoned you.”
You were so happy to hear her voice that you could almost ignore the teasing. The barely-there smirk gave you the deepest urge to kiss her. It was all you could think about, but you held yourself back.
“Good to see you’re still you.” You said. Though you tried to make it sound sarcastic, there was too much genuine happiness behind it to stick.
She only nodded, her smirk growing a little wider. It started you when she began to shift and suddenly held something out in front of you. You took a few moments before realizing what it was.
“You demanded that I return it.” She said.
You recalled that. In the heat of the moment, you had only wanted to give her something to hold onto. Something to anchor her to life. She was too hard headed to leave with unfinished business.
“Keep it,” You finally said, pressing it back into her hand, “It’s yours now.”
She looked as if she wanted to argue, but instead she gave you a nod. Any anxious feelings in your gut melted away. You knew what you were doing, how you were leaving yourself open by giving it to her. You didn’t care anymore. Not after last night.
“Your highness?” A small voice called from outside, before the door opened. Standing there with a tray was a servant bearing a tray of food, “I’ve brought a meal for the Commander.”
The tray was set down in front of you and she took her leave. Artemisia didn’t hesitate to pick at the offerings. That nagging feeling from the day before was back in your brain and without warning, you knocked the food from her hand.
“Don’t eat that.”
“Do you expect me to starve?” She said, looking unamused.
“Did you eat before going to the training grounds with me yesterday?” You asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“By the gods, Artemisia, just answer the question. Did you or did you not eat before we went to the training grounds?”
“Of course, your highness.”
You could see the exact moment that it clicked in her mind. The sickness had rendered a little slower than normal, but she was still extremely sharp. You removed the plate and set it down on a separate table, moving to rush from the area. A hand on your arm stopped you.
“It stands to reason, princess, that if these attacks are no longer exclusive to you…” Artemisia started.
“Then you won’t be the only one in danger.” You finished, your heart dropping. She released your arm after you gave it a squeeze, rushing out of the room.
Stood obediently were two guards. They looked bored when you rushed from the room, before standing up straighter and attempting to look attentive. Their appearance was the last thing on your mind.
“Do not let anyone in that room, do you understand?” You rushed out, barely giving them time to react before taking off at a run.
You paid no mind to the curious looks and the whispers as you ran past. Servants and individuals would move quickly out of your way, staring after you in surprise. You stopped to offer nobody an explanation. Not for the first time, you cursed the placement of the healer’s chambers in the palace. It made no sense to have someone so vital at the furthest point away from you.
It was the least important thing on your list of tasks at the moment, but you’d be glad that it’d finally be fixed. You had been complaining about it for ages.
As you ran, you bunched your skirts at your hips, cursing their length. They were dreadful for running. Naturally, they had no reason to be. You found yourself wishing for one of Artemisia’s dresses. The slits where the legs were would make running and moving much easier. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time for a wardrobe change.
You rounded the last corner to the dining hall and found yourself running straight at the doors. Two guards stood outside the doors, exchanging a glance and then looking at you.
“Open the doors!” You yelled, putting all of your energy into the last length towards the doors. Your calf muscles screamed in protest.
The doors were opened just in time. You had been moving so fast that you weren’t sure you could slow down otherwise. It would have been humiliating to run face-first into the stone doors, though you gathered your brother would get a laugh out of it. Artemisia would no doubt find it amusing too.
Your father and brother were seated at opposite ends of the table. The former was just bringing the first spoonful to his lips when you burst in, his head snapping up in surprise.
“Don’t eat that!” You said, rushing to his side and shoving the plate out of his reach, before looking to Xerxes, “You either. It’s poisoned.”
The spoon fell heavily from your father’s hand. He rose with a scowl, taking in your disheveled appearance with a critical eye. Your lungs were burning, but you resisted the urge to take deep gulps of air.
“How do you know this, sister?” Xerxes spoke first, standing from his seat as well.
“The Commander’s food was poisoned yesterday. I didn’t make the connection until her meal was brought to us.”
“Us?” Xerxes questioned, your father cutting in before he could go further.
“Not now, my son. You are sure of this?”
“I’ve never been more sure, Baba.”
He nodded, turning to a guard at his side. There was no doubt that he’d been listening intently, but he offered no sign of it. His visage was entirely neutral.
All of those in the kitchen were rounded up and brought before the three of you. You and Xerxes stood on either side of your father, while he stayed seated. His hands were folded tightly over his middle, knuckles almost going white as they were brought in. The room was as silent as the crypt.
“Is this all of you?” Your father asked in a terse voice.
“Yes, your majesty.” The head of the kitchen said, bowing his head when your father looked at him, “This is everyone employed in the kitchens.”
He grunted, looking up and down the line of shaking servants. Every head was bowed in submission. In a surprising move, your father turned to you, motioning for you to take over. You nodded and tried to keep a level stare over all of them.
“One, or maybe more of you, have betrayed this family. Yesterday someone important to our country was poisoned and now there has been an attempt on my father and my brother; your king and crown prince. I urge you to come forward now and face your punishment with grace.” You spoke clearly, watching them with a sharp eye.
None stepped forward, though you hadn’t really expected them to. One servant drew your attention more than the others though. Her head was lowered, but her eyes were darting every-which-way, and her frame had started to shake slightly. You raised an eyebrow and looked at your family. They had noticed as well.
With slow, deliberate steps, you walked up to stand before the shaking woman. She was only slightly shorter than you were. Her body tensed, but it didn’t stop her nervous reaction.
“What is your name?” You asked, your voice feeling loud in the silence.
“Madhavi, your highness.” She whispered.
“Is there something you’d like to share, Madhavi?”
Her frightened eyes flickered up to yours for a split second. When she saw how intensely you were staring her down, they returned to the floor. She shook her head. You maintained your stare for a long beat and then turned. Ignoring the curious looks of your father and brother, you caught the attention of the guards behind them.
“Take her away.” You ordered and they moved immediately, clasping a hard grip around each of her arms. She tried to fight and pull away from the guards.
“It wasn’t intentional!” The woman yelled suddenly. You held up a hand for the men to pause.
“And what was it then?”
“I swear it wasn’t on purpose, your highness. The woman handed me what I thought was a seasoning and I’ve seen her around here so often that I took her word for it.”
“What woman?” You asked, brow furrowing.
The doors to the room, the doors you’d burst through earlier, opened suddenly. Artemisia stood there in all of her glory, shoving a familiar face ahead of her. You felt your breath stutter.
“I believe this is the woman she’s referring to, your highness.” Artemisia said, forcing the woman onto her knees.
You approached slowly. The world felt like it was spinning around you. Briefly, you met the Commander’s eyes, feeling utterly confused. Then you finally stared into Fairuza’s hardened face.
“How?” You asked, “How could you do this, after everything we’ve done for you?”
“Everything you’ve done for us? You worked my husband like a dog and gave him next to nothing. He may have been too delusional to see your cruelty, but I am not.” Fairuza spat.
The necklace around her neck glinted. Finally you recognized the single, blue scale resting against her jugular. It was revealed as Artemisia yanked back on her hair, attempting to silence the disrespect coming from her mouth.
“Bahman was paid a fair wage that was more than suitable. If he didn’t reveal that all to you, then that is out of my control,” You said slowly, before grabbing Fairuza’s chin and forcing her to lock gazes with you, “What is in my control is your fate. And it is going to be a terrible one.”
You looked up into Artemisia’s face, seeing a look of curiosity there. You wanted to tell her that this was all for her, that every punishment the woman would endure would be for her. Bahman’s death would haunt the woman’s mind, but Artemisia’s near-death would haunt her body.
“You will pay for your crimes over the rest of your days. I hope it was worth it.” You whispered, releasing her face and motioning for the guards to release the other woman, in favor of grabbing Fairuza.
The lack of fight in the woman made you feel uneasy, but you didn’t waver from your spot until she was completely out of sight. You heard your father dismiss the rest of the staff while you stood, unsure of what to do next. Artemisia’s hand on your arm drew you from your thoughts.
“How are you feeling?” You asked.
“I’m fine, princess. Though I should ask you that.”
“I’d be better if I hadn’t just condemned a woman to a lifetime of torture,” You said, trying to laugh, but it came out terribly bitter, “Now I have to figure out what to do with her daughter.”
“You will find an answer. You always do.”
----
The wind swept through your hair and rustled your dress. You pulled the blanket on your shoulders tighter around you. Despite the sunshine, it had done little to warm you. You peered around the corner with slight impatience.
“Anahita, stay away from the rose bushes,” You called out, “Come inside, it’s almost dark.”
A little head of hair popped up amongst the plants. You felt a smile blossom on your face, almost rivaling the flowers surrounding you in the garden. Ever since Fairuza had been revealed as the traitor, her daughter had come into your care. They lacked any other family who could take her and you’d been happy to do so.
“Coming!” She called, though you knew it’d be at least another five minutes until she actually came inside.
“Still allowing her to run your schedule, I see.”
You turned to see Artemisia propped against the doorway. Her arms boasted a speckled pattern that you recognized as blood. She hadn’t stopped to freshen up before seeking you out, making you her first stop after returning.
“She’s not the only one,” You smiled, approaching her, “Welcome back, Commander.”
Instead of returning your greeting, she gripped the blanket around your shoulders and pulled you into a rough kiss. You melted into the embrace. Her lips were bruising, telling you just how much you’d been missed. A soft whimper left your mouth before you remembered where you were and pulled away.
Your forehead pressed against hers as you took in a ragged breath. A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and you wanted to kiss it away. Before you could do so, a little pair of arms wrapped themselves around the both of you.
“Hello, Commander!” Anahita said joyfully, looking up at the woman with a bright grin.
“Good evening, Anahita. I trust you’re behaving?” Artemisia said. Her voice was a little more stilted with the girl than with you, but she offered an awkward pat to the girl’s shoulder.
“Of course.”
Artemisia gave her a nod. You wanted to laugh at how uncomfortable the child still made her, though Anahita clearly admired her. She was getting better slowly.
“Alright, you. It’s time for bed,” You said to the girl, pushing her towards the doors. Turning to the Commander, you looked her up and down slowly, “And it is time for you to clean yourself up.”
“Mm. And will you be joining me?” She asked, only loud enough for the two of you to hear.
“We’ll see.”
Artemisia raised an eyebrow, but you only offered a coy smile. You ushered Anahita inside after stealing a quick kiss from the warrior. The excitement settling in your gut made you eager to return to the woman, but you had your duties to the girl first.
----
After getting Anahita into bed and reading her a story, you had rushed back to your chambers. There you found Artemisia submerged in a warm bath, steam rolling off of the water, her arms propped over the sides enticingly. You traced her muscles with your eyes before meeting her gaze. No matter how quiet you tried to be, she always knew you were there.
“Nice of you to join me, your highness.” She said.
“I’m sorry. Anahita wanted a story and I couldn’t deny her. It was hard to get her to sleep, she’ll likely be all over you tomorrow.”
You came to stand next to the bath, intertwining her fingers with your own. Her face didn’t change, but she squeezed your hand lightly.
“We’ll deal with that then. Join me.”
And join her you did. You laid in the warm water with her, exchanging kisses and words, until it had long gone cold. Even after that you didn’t sleep. You propped yourself near the window, watching the stars in the sky as she wrapped herself around you from behind. A pair of lips pressed a kiss behind your ear.
The two of you ventured into more physical pursuits until the morning, leaving you feeling pleasantly sore. Your head was laid on her chest when the sound of chirping caught your attention. Outside of the window, the sun was coming across the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant orange.
“It’s sunrise.” You remarked with a smile.
“So it is.”
“We met at sunrise. Do you remember?”
“I remember you attempting to give me orders, but not that it was sunrise.”
“You ruined my morning. I was so furious with you and I hated you for what felt like ages. Though somehow you wormed your way into my good graces.” You said, pressing a kiss just above her heart.
“We’ve never shared a sunrise.”
“Not on good terms. The only other time, you were… I thought you were going to leave. I couldn’t enjoy it like I wanted, especially since you weren’t awake to see it.”
“I owe you two more sunrises, then?” Artemisia inquired, trailing a hand down the side of your face. The gentle touch left you breathless.
“You owe me far more than that.” You grinned, leaning up to steal a kiss.
Few things may attempt to beat the painted skies of the morning, swirling with pinks and oranges. The birds singing in the trees, calling for the world to wake. Few things are more beautiful than a Persian sunrise - but watching a Persian sunrise in the arms of someone you love is definitely one of them
#artemisia#300: rise of an empire#artemisia 300#artemisia x reader#artemisia imagine#artemisia 300: rise of an empire#300: rise of an empire imagine#300#300 imagine#wlw#wlw imagine#april2021#multimilfswritings
212 notes
·
View notes
Text
Taking it Natural
Well I can never fully stick to an outline lmao. But, I did manage a lil fic involving just some simple stuff between Cormag and Artur.
Kink stuff is more on the lesser end, cause I wanted to focus a bit more on dialogue and also wanted to write something on the smaller scale of sizes. Also was just fun to write a shorter, simpler story and also one not set in Askr which I need to do more lol
"I am perfectly fine doing the dishes," Artur lightly hums to himself. He scrubs away at the bits and remnants of the day's finished meal. A few pots and pans already on the drying rack alongside the ladles, said dishes preemptively cleaned before dinner had even been eaten, he washes the clutter of used dinnerware. His back facing Cormag, his partner currently sits at the couch.
"I'll go check on Genarog then," His voice comes out strained. Completely leaning against the couch, Cormag's stomach continues its prolonged harassment towards its owner. His stomach is a cacophony of churning and gurgling noises, the overworked, stuffed gut letting it's discomfort be known. Despite his declaration of performing a chore, he simply remains seated with his head leaning back. His lips are parted as he languidly recovers enough energy to catch his breath.
"I already fed him and made sure he's comfortable in his stable," Arthur places a plate on the drying rack beside the just washed cutlery and glassware. His still soapy hands reach for the next plate to scrub at.
"Ah," Cormag's strenuous breathing remains the same. He keeps his eyes closed as a way to block out any possible external discomfort besides his tumultuous tummy. "Then I'll…" Cormag trails off with a groan. A few extra pants and wheezes come out as his gut seems to give him an extra angry complaint. "Then I'll-"
"You can wait on the couch. I am fine, Cormag," The last plate cleaned and set aside to dry, he dries his hands on a dish towel, the damp cloth adorned with miniature wyverns. Turning around, he smiles as he gets an eyeful of Cormag's sorry stuffed state.
Cormag retiring from being a soldier, he had instead taken up woodworking once he and Artur decided to live together. His new line of work requiring a different, less intensive set of skills, the sudden change of constant routines and fighting to meticulous, long periods of time sitting while carving was a sudden change for his metabolism and appetite. The lack of much activity affecting his physique was only compounded by Artur's task of taking care of the house's chores. Cormag had already been aware of Artur's proficiency in the culinary arts through their occasional picnics back when the two had first begun a relationship, yet the latter's constant practice through cooking everyday left his prowess in the kitchen to something to truly be proud of. Cormag having a generous fill of food every meal of the day, his indulgence of Artur's cooking hadn't moved quite past an extra helping or two every go around. Although, even those generous extra helpings helped plump and widen his waistline to a body type rather past stocky and into fat guy territory.
Clothes upsized just as his body upsized, his maroon t-shirt does a sufficient job in covering Cormag’s sun kissed skin. His compact yet soft pile of squishy fat for a stomach curves outwards as it ever so gently slots itself on top of his doughy thighs. Pressed up against his shirt, the malleable tummy barely covers any of Cormag’s lap, enough space for Artur to be comfortably seated atop him still. The two fleshy legs seem even wider as he sits, the bunched up fat splaying a slightly extra amount from resting on the couch. Cormag’s pants do their best in perfectly covering the two, the waistband even widened as well to not uncomfortably squish against Cormag’s hips. The center of his gut juts out more than his squeezable love handles, Cormag’s rotundness more pronounced. The stuffed mass seems to taunt Artur, his eyes finding themselves often drifting back towards the perfectly rubbably surface. Cormag’s sizable chest makes itself comfortable on top of his stomach, the handful of breasts splaying a bit to the side from the accumulation of fat. His pronounced chest only helps make Cormag seem extra wide, Artur always feeling rather twiggish next to his plump teddy bear of a husband. Though the lightly tanned moobs are offered enough room from Cormag’s spacious shirt to not be so confined and pressed up against the fabric. Cormag’s biceps are no more, the somewhat, albeit nicely, defined biceps coated in a plush, warm layer of fat. The plump appendaged perfect for a nice, crushing yet comforting hug, Cormag’s arms had always been a secret favorite of Artur’s. Cormag rests his arms on the cushiony back pillows, the bottom heft of his arms squishing ever so slightly against the surface. His face at the very center of his arm span, Artur can only see the fleshy double chin connected to Cormag’s lovably wonderful kissable face. Though he can very much hear his love’s taxed breathing even over the angered grumbling coming from his gut.
“Oh, Artur,” Cormag’s arms wobble for a few moments; the two doughy appendages struggle as he tries to push himself up despite his body’s protests. “Give me, hah, a minute,” His rotund body expands with each great, deep breath he takes.
“No worries,” Artur sits himself beside Cormag. His lap calling to him, he’d feel like a monster causing him anymore discomfort. “I’ll wait beside you,” Artur pats Cormag’s thigh.
“Heh,” Cormag lets out a small chuckle, the only response he can give before he has to take a few more breaths to help relieve the heavy pit of pain resting in his gut. “I really ate like a pig,”
The faint warm onset of a blush on Artur’s face blossoms on his face, the healer always getting a tinge of embarrassment whenever Cormag even offhandedly mentions his size or eating habits. “Perhaps. But, I should learn to stop cooking so much. I just think of something nice for us to share and so I kinda just make it,” Artur tosses a noncommittal shrug at the end, a few awkward laughs thrown in as well as if he hadn’t confessed his unique admiration in the way Cormag’s body plumped out. A few extra pounds looking rather dashing on his tall figure which would only look more handsome if those few extra pounds swelled into a dozen or perhaps even a hundred before Cormag was resting at a sizable 300 pounder of a man.
“Maybe. Guess we both should learn some restraint,”
“Perhaps,,,” Artur nearly reaches for Cormag’s aching gut to soothe the beast before thinking better of it. “I have a salve that should help,” Without waiting for any confirmation, Artur goes to the closet full of his supplies. Herbs able to help cure maladies unlike staves, he rummages through the several jars and boxes he has. Though only Artur would consider his neat, organized setup a mess requiring rummaging, Lute always interested in his tidy organizational skill. Having fetched the ointment, he stands in front of the seated Cormag. “This has to go directly on your skin,” He tosses the lower hem of Cormag’s shirt up. Applying a dollop of the ointment on his hands, he wastes no time in getting them all over Cormag’s stomach.
“You’ve never needed an excuse to do this stuff before,” The salve immediately begins to work its magic on Cormag. His labored breathing slowly begins to take on a more natural pace and the evident discomfort on his face washes away. “You sure do know your way around there,” Cormag even shifts around on the couch, his stomach no longer threatening to self-destruct from the slightest jostle.
Artur drops his head in mirthful laughter, Cormag’s surprising silly teasing always getting to him. “I have rubbed your stomach how many times, Cormag?” His hands drift on over to Cormag’s love handles. Standing above Cormag, he grabs on to the chunky handles as he leans down for a kiss.
“Not enough, knowing you,” Cormag whispers as they part.
“Then you truly do know me,” Artur retorts. Cormag’s stomach is no longer a ticking time bomb, so he figures it’d be fine to sit in his favorite spot. He gently lowers himself down onto Cormag’s lap. His soft squishy, tummy rests comfortably against his back.
“If you had this kind of stuff laying around, why use it only now?”
“Well- I,,,” Artur considers his next words for a moment. “I felt bad with how much I stuffed you tonight. I may have gone overboard so-”
Cormag promptly cuts him off with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t force me to do anything. You’re cooking is great. I tell all my clients about your cooking. They kept hounding me about your recipe for those cookies you always make to butter them up,”
“Ah,” Artur turns bright red as he recalls the high praises from all of Cormag’s clients, a few even inadvertently referring to Cormag’s weight upon said praises. “Well, I also didn’t use this because I didn’t want you to feel like I only cared about stuffing you and getting you fatter,”
“I’m gonna have to get up for this one,” Rising up, Cormag makes sure to help Artur up first. “Look at me,” He grabs Artur’s shoulders. Artur shorter by a few inches, he feels miniscule right now. “If I ever have any problems with my weight, you are going to be the first person I tell. We’ve known each other for years before I started gaining weight,” Cormag brings Artur to him, wrapping him in a bear hug. Artur’s arms are ensnared by Cormag’s own doughy arms. Though he knows his arms wouldn’t be able to wrap around him regardless. His feet rise off a few inches from the ground as Cormag holds on to him. Cormag begins to chuckle, his heart always aflutter with Artur in his arms. The ring of laughter catches onto Artur, the two laughing together. They remain like so for a few minutes, neither speaking.
Eventually, Cormag lets Arthur back down. A hefty sigh escapes his lips from the minimal amount of activity. “And if you ever have any problems with my weight, then let me know,” Cormag holds onto Artur’s hands, rubbing the palm of them with his thumb.
“Of course. But I don’t think I could ever have a problem having such a handsome husband.”
“Unfortunately for you, my husband is more handsome than yours,” Artur snorts from Cormag’s reply. His hands find their way to Cormag’s arm for a light slap.
“I guess you win then. But, thank you. Neither of us have done this, so I wanted to make sure we’re going at a natural pace for the both of us,”
“Taking it nice and slow is my preference. Enjoying the travel is just as important as the destination or however you say it,” An idea sparking in his brain, Cormag devilishly grins, his plump cheeks dimpling. “Let’s enjoy the scenic route some more,” Cormag leans slightly down. He gently whispers in Artur’s ears before resting his lips on his partner’s.
Artur grinning, he merely murmurs in hushed agreement as Cormag kisses him, the crackle of joy feeling just as natural as their first kiss, the two ready to indeed enjoy Cormag’s current size and take things naturally, wherever it might lead.
#Cormag is kinda hard to write but I hope this is somewhat close#I just imagine him eing actually kinda dorkish with someone he's comfortable lol#my writing#fat fiction#fat!Cormag#fat!Sacred Stones#maleweightgain#male weight gain
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sulky💭
Yoongi has a weekend at home for the first time in awhile.
There are three things on the agenda
1. Food
2. Sex
3. Informing Yoongi that he looks like a video game character
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: FLUFF, references to animal crossing, smut (18+ only plz), established/new relationship au
Word Count: 4.2k
Warnings: smut, language and, an overwhelming amount of fluff
A/N: well hello there beautiful reader! I hope you enjoy this little piece of mine. It’s kind of silly but, honestly ever since I started playing animal crossing; I cannot get this comparison out of my mind. If you haven't played the game, you can still read though! The main point of the fic is Yoongi and the reader’s relationship.
Yoongi hasn’t had a night off with you in weeks.
And he doesn’t want you to know how much he’s looking forward to it.
He has a particular way he wants these kinds of nights to go but, they never really follow the pattern he expects.
Tonight, it starts with a small glass of whiskey.
Yoongi drinks the old stuff cause he’s secretly a 300 year old hipster who can’t be bothered with cheap liquor.
Instead, he grabs a lowball glass and pours himself a drink as he plops onto the couch and, slowly sips until the amber liquid has disappeared down his throat.
It’s kind of hard not to notice the way his lips curl around the glass, the way his tongue collects any misplaced whiskey, the way he seems to savor the taste...
He leans back against the sofa, legs spread carelessly across the cushions and, although you usually find manspreading unattractive, there’s something about the way Yoongi does it that makes it so hot.
The chatter is minimal on days like this because you both appreciate comfortable silence.
The low hum of the television is enough to fill the room and, although Yoongi doesn’t speak, he says so much with his body language.
Yes, Yoongi values being alone and he isn’t much for frivolous displays of emotion but, he still loves affection.
His nimble fingers find their way to yours and the way he slides his fingers against the palm of your hand is enough to send a shiver down your spine.
Yoongi doesn’t notice of course as he’s dealing with his own feelings at the moment.
Holding hands on the couch is a part of his bedtime routine and if he’s being honest, it's one of his favorite parts of his day.
He smirks at something on the TV, squeezing your hand a little tighter as he chuckles to himself, taking another sip of his whiskey.
You watch the way his throat bobs as he swallows and god help you, you feel like a creep for how much you want to just sit there and stare at him.
He notices you looking at him a little longer but, he doesn’t comment on it.
He’d stare at you all the time if he got the chance.
His thumb is rubbing over your knuckles now, taking it’s time to caress the space between them, sending you further along the path of no return.
Subconsciously, lean closer to him, resisting the urge to rest your head on his shoulder.
You know he’s going to get up soon to shower.
With a heavy sigh, Yoongi turns toward you, “I need to get this makeup off. Do you need to get in the bathroom before I shower?”
You regret having showered before he got home now because, with your still damp hair, you can’t really request that you join him without him raising an eyebrow.
Which he would, cause you know, it’s Yoongi.
“No I should be fine. Have a good shower.” You smile, squeezing his hand before releasing your grip to allow him to get up.
He returns your smile, ignoring the twinge of regret he feels as you let go of him.
“Thanks. I’ll be out in a bit.”
You nod and return your attention back to the TV but, your boyfriend lingers around the entrance to the living room a little too long and, it’s enough to make you giggle and call him out.
“What?”
He smirks boyishly, jerking his head in your direction, “What do you have planned tonight?”
The look in his eyes makes your stomach flip but, you play it cool as you don’t want to assume the hidden meaning in his question.
“I’m in for the night. I just have to go over a few things of tomorrow morning but, otherwise I was going to hang out with you since you’re off. Why?” You tuck your legs onto the couch to fill the space that Yoongi once did, awaiting his response.
“Just wondering. I was gonna order something from the restaurant across the street, does that sound good to you? If not, I can probably make something.”
His smirk doesn’t fully disappear but, he masks it well enough with his further inquiries.
“The restaurant sounds good,” You smile, “I know we’re both off this weekend if you want to cook then. I miss your cooking...”
Yoongi’s heart is a flutter then, he’s lowkey obsessed with any compliment you throw his way but, he doesn’t necessarily want you to know that.
“Yeah? I can cook whatever you want this weekend, you just have to let me know so I can get the ingredients. I’ll cook all of our meals though, so we don’t have to waste money on take out.”
He emphasizes the second point, trying to mask his reaction and, you resist the urge smile at how cute he is.
“Really? You don’t mind doing that? I would literally die happy, I haven't had your cooking in so long. It’s better than all the delivery places we get anyway so, I wouldn’t mind taking a weekend off from that.” You flop back against the couch, sending a longing look his way.
Your heart stutters a bit as the gummiest of smiles present itself on your boyfriends pretty lips.
“You’re uh- you're sweet ha-” He rubs the back of his neck shyly before gesturing to the shower, “I’ll try and come up with some recipes in the shower.”
He disappears down the hall rather hastily then, not bothering to fully conclude your conversation.
It’s very much on brand for him though.
Yoongi craves validation but, its often too much for him to handle so, he often gushes over you in private.
He spends the duration of his shower thinking of all the different ways to impress you in the kitchen, meticulously sorting through all of his current favorite recipes and the ones he knows you love.
When he strolls back into the living room, he’s wearing nothing but his boxers, his damp hair haphazardly pushed to the side.
It’s hot outside so, it’s justified but, it’s unlike Yoongi to walk around shirtless.
Modesty and all that.
“Hold on...is that? My boyfriend??? Looking fine as hell on a Wednesday afternoon like it’s no big deal?” You look him up and down which prompts him to roll his eyes.
With a smirk on his lips, he waves you off but the blush on his cheeks contradicts his actions.
“Shut up. You're so weird.” He mutters, his arms subconsciously moving in front of his stomach.
You laugh before rushing over to him, attempting to wrap your arms around his waist.
“I’m not weird!? I’m just admiring my boyfriend’s natural beauty; excuse me.” You huff, still trying to hug him as he pretends to wiggle away from your grip.
“Yah! What’s wrong with you???” He shouts playfully when you place wet kisses against his cheek, which is afire with the effect you have on him.
You giggle when you finally succeed at securing your boyfriend in a hug, your lips inches away from.
“You look good. I wanted you to know...” You murmur simply, your laughter fading slightly whilst you lean in towards his mouth.
Yoongi’s breathing stalls a bit when your lips press onto his.
No one kisses like you do. It kind of sickens him honestly.
It always fucks him up.
You’re just so tender and sensual.
It makes his head spin.
Tucking your lips between his, you slowly slide your hands up his torso, delicately brushing against his ribs as you hold him.
Yoongi reciprocates your motions, his fingers holding onto the fabric of your waistband, his eyes fluttering shut when he settles deeper into the kiss.
You decide you want to take a step further and, continue touching him.
You brush your fingers over his chest, admiring the tightness there that’s developed from longer hours spent in the gym.
Yoongi’s chest is very sensitive so when you brush over his nipples, his hands are quick to settle over yours.
“W-we haven’t had dinner yet...” He stutters, nervous laughter emanating from his lips, “d-do you want dinner?”
He doesn’t move away from you though, he’s just shy.
He hasn’t totally figured out how to initiate sex or to receive attention.
You’ve been dating for six months now.
You’ve had plenty of sex but, it still makes him nervous.
Even though, he wants you so bad.
You smile softly against his mouth before patting his hips, “Sure yeah-” You step away from him and nod towards the kitchen, “I’m gonna get the menu. I think I want something different tonight.”
Yoongi feels a little twinge in his heart when you pull away but, he knows he hasn’t offended you.
That’s the thing about you.
The reason he fell in love with you.
He doesn’t always need to explain himself; you just get it.
“I want steak. I’ve been craving it all week. I’m a little tempted to get more than one but, I know that it’s gonna hurt my stomach.”
He follows closely behind you, his heart still unsteady from the effects of your kiss.
“You can always save one for tomorrow? Knowing you, you’ll probably re-heat it and make it like 1,000 times better anyway.”
He scoffs playfully, “You can’t re-heat cooked steak Y/N. It gets all rubbery....”
Yoongi? Defensive in the face of a compliment?
It’s more likely than you think.
Rolling your eyes you concede, setting the menu on the countertop, “I’m so sorry for even suggesting that you could deviate from your very specific rules regarding leftovers.”
Yoongi snickers before wrapping his arms around your waist, “I’ll find a way to forgive you I guess. I can’t fault you for having poor taste.”
A gentle elbowing is in order but, otherwise you relish in the warmth his embrace is providing, “You’re such a dick.” You smirk before flipping the menu over.
His rickety laughter continues as he tightens his grip on you, “What are you thinking of having?”
“I don’t know; I think I want the chicken/steak combo bowl but, I’m also feeling the ginger-sesame salad. Ugh- but maybe I want the alfredo? There’s so many choices.”
During your minor breakdown, Yoongi feels his lips twitch in amusement.
You’re really cute.
He wants to kiss you again and now that he’s pressed against you, he kind of regrets chickening out a minute ago.
“What do you think?” You turn slightly in his grip to look at him and right as you do, he pecks his lips against yours.
“I think you’re cute.” He says simply before nodding to the menu, “Order all three. Eat the salad tonight and save the rest for tomorrow.”
“I like the way you think Min.” You smile, a bit dazed from his kiss, your cheeks warmer than before.
Delivery arrives in no time and the two of you spend a good half an hour shoveling takeout into your faces before you settle back against the couch to relax.
This is one of your favorite parts of a night off with Yoongi.
The two of you just do your thing together, side by side.
There isn’t much talking but, its so comforting to be near him.
He’s scrolling on his phone, checking out new equipment for his studio and, you’ve delved into your most recent obsession: Animal Crossing.
Yoongi often pokes fun at how into the game you actually are but, truth be told, he actually enjoys watching you play.
Although, he’d never admit it.
“Oh my god Marshal, my sweet beautiful boy, how are you?” You coo to your screen, your thumbs furiously moving your character towards the fluffy little squirrel in question.
Yoongi smirks but otherwise he keeps to himself, his arm wound around your shoulders.
“Do you like your flowers? I planted new ones behind your house, aren’t they pretty?”
“You taught me how to smirk? Of course you did, that’s literally your specialty.” Marshal responds off topic because, he’s literally a video game character and cannot hear you as a look of disgust comes over your face, “Ew Canberra no, leave me alone, I’m hanging out with Marshal.”
Yoongi finally chuckles, shaking his head, “Yah, who is Marshal and why are you always talking to him when you play that game?”
You tilt your Switch towards him, showing off your favorite villager, “This is Marshall. He’s the love of my entire life.”
With a quirked brow, Yoongi looks at the screen blankly, “This mouse is the love of your life?”
You laugh at his expression, moving the Switch closer to his face, “He’s not a mouse! He’s a squirrel!”
Yoongi’s stoic expression cracks at the sound of your laugh, “OK fine, he’s a squirrel,” He chuckles, “Why is he so special? What does he do?”
You narrow your eyes at him, “He- What does he do? He is a future coffee shop owner/actor/fashion extraordinaire thankyouverymuch...”
Yoongi snickers, “Wow he has a lot going on. I didn’t realize mice could own property...”
“He’s a squirrel!!!” You whine and Yoongi’s head falls back as he cracks up at your outburst. “You know I only like him so much cause he reminds me of you...”
Yoongi’s laughter fades slightly, “What do you mean?”
“Look at him-” You shove your Switch back in his face, “He’s literally you. He's cute, he’s cranky, he likes music and coffee- He's basically Animal Crossing Yoongi. That’s why I worked so hard to get him on my island. See? I put his house right next to mine...”
Yoongi is going to spontaneously combust.
You are the cutest thing that has ever set foot on this earth and, he’s quite certain you were sent here to destroy him.
“You worked hard to get a villager who reminds you of me...on your island?” He clarifies, his eyes holding something new in them.
“Yeah- so don’t be mean to him.” You respond matter of factly, giggling before returning to your game.
You notice the blush that creeps across Yoongi’s lips but, you elect to ignore it.
“You’re ridiculous.” He smirks and despite resuming his activity on his phone, you don’t miss the way his hand begins rubbing circles against your shoulder.
“You’re ridiculous.” You retort
A part from a bit of laughter, silence quickly settles between the two of you once again.
Yoongi slipped on some actual clothes before dinner and the scent of his citrus fabric softener is a welcome addition to the comfortable atmosphere of your living room.
You wish every night was like this.
After an hour or so, your lids begin to grow heavy.
Yoongi’s presence is soothing enough but with a full stomach and a bit of Animal Crossing, you’re struggling to stay awake.
“Jagiya?” He whispers, brushing his fingers over your cheek, “Yah, let’s get you to bed ok?”
A grumble leaves your lips then because your exhaustion is fucking with your plans for the rest of the evening.
Nights like these usually end with sex.
Sex isn’t something the two of you get to do as often as you’d like.
You both have demanding jobs that keep you apart more often than not.
Sex is usually on the agenda because, the two of you miss each other so much.
“But we didn’t have sex...” You grumble against his chest which suddenly shakes with scratchy laughter.
“We can have sex tomorrow. I’m off all weekend.” He murmurs through his chuckling as he ushers you to your feet, “C’mon, I’ll come to bed too...”
“Mkay. Promise?”
Yoongi smiles, fondness exploding within his chest whilst he helps you to your feet, “I promise. Let’s go.”
Moments later, your head is on your boyfriend’s heart.
It takes no time for you to drift back off to dreamland but just as you do, you hear Yoongi whisper:
“I love you so much.”
---------------------------------------------------------
The following morning comes about slowly.
The two of you sleep in past 10am, which is a rare occurrence.
You’re the first one to wake up but upon noticing that Yoongi isn’t awake yet, you opt to snuggle against his chest.
His t-shirt has risen enough to expose the lower half of his stomach which you brush gently with your fingertips.
Your intention is to fall back asleep as you know very well how long your boyfriend is capable of staying in bed.
However, you notice Yoongi stirring beneath you which prompts you to turn your head towards him.
Sure enough, he’s awake: he’s blonde hair is a mess atop his head, his babydoll features scrunched up with remnants of sleep.
A wry smile is present on his lips though and, it makes you grin just at the sight of it.
“Good morning.” You murmur
Just like a cat, Yoongi offers a slow blink before replies, “Morning.”
“How did you sleep?”
His smile broadens, “Mm really good. You?”
You nod, resting your cheek back on his stomach, “I slept like the dead. I haven’t slept this long in weeks.”
“Yeah you passed out last night. You tried to protest when I told you to come to bed.” He recounts, his lips turning up in a smirk.
“I did? I don’t even remember that. What did I say?”
Yoongi clears his throat then, beginning to blush, “Uh you said you couldn’t go to bed because we couldn’t have sex.”
At that, you laugh and shake your head, “Oh my god. I mean-” You prop yourself a bit, “I kind of had a point but, I couldn’t have rocked your world in that condition. What did you say back?”
Yoongi’s lips are curved into a shy smile but, his eyes are lit up with his usual snark, “I told you we could have sex tomorrow and, that I was off all weekend. That seemed to be enough to get you in here.”
“That sounds about right.” When he mentions sex, warmth rustles around in your stomach, “I can’t believe you’re off all weekend...”
His hand comes up to rub against your back, his smile never fading, “Me neither. They haven’t given us a weekend off at home in months. Thank you for taking time off too, I feel bad that you usually work around my schedule.”
You scoot up more to be closer to him before leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek.
“Don’t feel bad. It’s a little easier to do on my end and, I’ve been working 60 hours a week for the past 3 months, my co-chair was begging me to take a few days off.”
Both of his arms wrap around you now, hugging you to his chest, “You work so hard jagi. You have to make sure you don’t overdo it.”
You wanna throw a “right back at you” his way but, Yoongi’s been at the all work/no sleep lifestyle a lot longer than you.
Plus, he has a point.
“I am. That’s why I’m staying with you all weekend duhhhh.” You smile, craning your neck to kiss him.
The action immediately causes his smile to return whilst his hands slide down to your lower back.
Kissing turns into making out much quicker than you expected but, you’re not complaining.
You’ve missed your boyfriend’s mouth so much.
“Can we- can we uh...” Yoongi breathes a little heavier now, his request sounding very shaky, “Can we fuck?”
Logically, you can blame this statement on the fact that Yoon’s first language isn’t English and, that he likely heard this phrase from Namjoon but, with his hardening dick digging into your hip, you can’t help but feel like he knows exactly what he’s saying.
“Mhm...”
Yoongi rolls over so he’s resting between your legs, his hips grinding eagerly onto yours.
Still, he kisses you deeper, introducing his tongue into your mouth.
You accept him eagerly, allowing your tongue to brush against his.
“I love it when you do that...” He confesses, nudging his nose on the side of your own.
With determination, you usher his mouth back into the kiss, ensuring that you allow your tongue tease his own.
One of your free hands slides down his stomach and tucks into his black boxers, encircling his dick.
It’s throbbing which prompts you to begin guiding a firm fist up the length of him.
“Oh-” Yoongi grunts softly, his brow furrowing whilst he tries to focus on kissing you.
You smirk into his mouth whilst continuing to jerk him off, swiveling firmly around his swollen tip.
“Shit.” He can’t help but break the kiss now, his head falling into your neck, “That feels so good.”
“Yeah?” You coo, kissing the side of his head, “You like it when I touch you?”
He nods rapidly, sucking on the exposed skin of your neck, his hips beginning to rock with the motion of your hand.
Sweat is starting to appear on his hairline but that doesn’t stop you from pressing kisses up the side of his face.
“I wanted this as soon as I saw you last night. Ugh-” He grunts again but, its starting to sound very much like a whimper, “I wanted it but- fuck I’m so awkward still. If I wasn’t I- oh fuck...I’d be all over you.”
His honesty warms you from the inside out.
You love how vulnerable he’s being and, you want to make sure he continues to feel safe enough to do so.
“Look at you now though, you are all over me. You're doing so good.” You whisper and tilt his head back towards you so you can look him in the eyes, “You don’t have to worry about how awkward you are- I’m so wet right now and, you haven’t even done anything yet...”
Suddenly, Yoongi’s expression shifts to one of pure lust as he glances down at your underwear, “You’re wet for me?”
“My panties are ruined.”
Yoongi wastes no time, although pulling away from your touch is a hard decision, the next thing you know; he’s sliding a hand inside your underwear.
Nervously he giggles, his mouth hanging open in awe, “It’s so wet- do I really make you this wet?”
“Everytime.” You whisper, a soft moan brewing in your throat as the pads of his fingers find your clit.
With his mouth still parted, Yoongi smirks a little, enjoying the sight beneath him, “Back and forth?” He moves his fingers against your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure, “Or in circles?”
“Back and forth.” You reply, eagerly straining towards his lips, “Please.”
“So polite.” He notes, still smirking as he follows your instructions, “That good?”
You part your legs for him, “Mhm...”
Yoongi touches you with confidence now, bringing you quickly to the edge.
“Are you close jagi? I really want to be inside of you after you cum all over yourself.”
That's enough to warrant an orgasm that causes your toes to curl into the sheets.
He kisses you all the way through it before lining himself up at your entrance.
He’s different this time, he’s faster, he’s harder...it doesn’t take long for the warmth of a second orgasm to begin approaching.
Baring his teeth, he looks down at where you’re joined, chuckling incredulously, “I swear- I didn’t know sex could feel like this. Not until I met you...”
His laughter his infectious so you follow suit but, his lips are so tempting you have to kiss him again.
“Yoongi?” You grunt into his mouth.
He nudges your nose, “Yeah baby?”
“I’m gonna cum again.”
A satisfied smirk comes over his lips, “Yes you are. All over my dick huh?”
All you can do is nod and let the wave of pleasure crash over you once again.
Surprisingly, Yoongi is still fucking into you but, the desperate look in his eyes signifies how close he is.
Nudging your nose again, he kisses you sloppily, “Can I cum? Please?”
With your fingers in his hair and your lips on his, you nod, “Cum for me...”
“Oh fuck- fu-fuck fuck fuck fu-fuck ah...oh shit...” With a string of curse words, he buries his face between your breasts and empties himself inside of you.
---------------------------------------------------------
After your morning rendezvous with Yoongi, the two of you eventually make your way out to the kitchen to make some coffee.
You just bought a fancy new espresso machine for your apartment and, you’re about ready to make Yoongi an Iced Americano.
He’s at the counter, chopping up some sausage for breakfast, quietly humming to himself.
At first, you think nothing of it until you slowly start to recognize the song he’s singing.
“Is that- is that Bubblegum by K.K?” You giggle, turning towards him.
He grins but he doesn’t look up at you, “I don’t know what that is...”
“Its the song from Animal Crossing- did you go and listen to it???”
He shrugs, “I looked into Marshall and one of the first videos that came up was him singing this song.”
“You-” You smile, slowly moving towards him, “You looked up Marshal?
Still grinning, he avoids eye contact with you, placing the sausage into a bowl, “I wanted to see what you were fussing over.”
“And? Do you get it now?” You venture hopefully and he finally looks up at you with a straight face.
“No I don’t...sulky...”
“Ah! You said it! You said his catchphrase!” You giggle before rushing over and wrapping your arms around him, “I love you...”
His expression softens as he kisses the top of your head,
“I love you too- sulky...”
#bts yoongi#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi one shot#yoongi fanfics#yoongi fics#yoongi fic recs#boyfriend! yoongi#yoongi#yoongi sexy#yoongi cute#yoongi x reader#bts#bts smut#bts one shot#bts fluff#bts fanfics#bts fanfiction#bts fics#bts fic recs#shy! yoongi#yoongi marshal#marshal animal crossing#marshal#animal crossing#animal crosing new horizons
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Congrats!!! Nsfw Mihawk letter M!
Hello, Anon. 😃 I went with a fem s/o since it wasn’t specified, hope that’s okay! The letter M was popular, so you may know the mystery quote already, but Mihawk is a fav of mine and this was a good quote, so enjoy!
Ns.fw under the cut.
Mystery quote (not so mysterious 😉😅) in bold!
Mihawk – 300 Followers Event, NS.FW, M
The roaring fire in the hearth warmed the room, the flames illuminating most of the library except for the far edges. Moonlight streamed in from the large bay window, casting a glow on the rug covered stone floor. A tall wingback chair sat near the corner, giving the occupant of the chair the perfect view out the stars and the stone fireplace. It was one of Mihawk’s favorite places to sit in the old castle and relax. The space was made all the better when she began to join him, occupying the lounge chair that sat closer to the fireplace.
Mihawk couldn’t focus on the novel in his hands, instead his eyes kept wandering to his lover. His eyes roaming her curves where the lounged on her side, stretched across the chaise. Her own book lay open in front of her. She was focused on the words, lost in the story and oblivious to Mihawk’s gaze.
She was dressed for bed, a short pale pink nightgown trimmed with black lace was covered by the black satin robe she wore. The necklace and fallen open, the sash around her waist coming loose, and Mihawk’s eyes explored the exposed skin of her collarbone down to the swell of her breasts. The pale pink fabric hindered him from gaining a better view.
Setting his book aside on the small table beside him, Mihawk called her name to catch her attention. Her head lifted, eyes leaving the pages to catch his golden gaze. A smile graced her lips as she tilted her head in curiosity.
“Yes, love?”
A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as Mihawk retorted, “Come sit on my lap.”
Placing a red ribbon between the pages to mark her place, she closed the book and stood from the chaise. She held his gaze as she walked across the floor, hips swaying seductively, an action Mihawk was positive she was unaware of. It was just her, she was his temptress and his lover, and his partner.
When she reached him, Mihawk pulled her down to sit across his lap. Her arm closest to him wrapped over his shoulder while the other came up to play with the collar of his open shirt.
“Yes, love?” she repeated, a teasing smile on her lips as she met his gaze once more.
She knew what he wanted. She always did, and Mihawk wasted no time capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Her arm around his shoulders fell away so that both her hands pressed to his bare chest as he deepened the kiss. The softest of whimpers left her lips, urging him on, and his hands slid to her waist to untie her robe. The sash undid easily, and his slipped his hands inside, gliding over her curves as he pushed the robe off her shoulders.
The corner of the room was not warmed as intensely by roaring fire, and she shivered as the cool air hit her bare shoulders. Mihawk rubbed his hands up and down her arms as she shifted on his lap, hands gliding to his shoulders to steady herself as she straddled him. Mihawk broke away from their kiss first to trail his lips across her shoulder, allowing them both to take a needed breath.
Her hands wandered his chest, nails scratching lightly over the hard muscles as she ran her hands downward. Her fingertips danced over his ribs as she made her way back up. A soft giggle echoed in the stone room as he trailed his own fingertips slowly down her body. Mihawk grazed over her thighs before slipping his fingers under the hem of her short night dress. He couldn’t stop the low groan that rumbled in his chest as he trailed his fingers over her bare skin.
“No panties, beautiful?” Mihawk purred.
The softest of giggles left her lips as she pressed them to his jaw. “Well, we were supposed to be going to bed soon,” she whispered near his ear.
Mihawk trailed his hands from her hips to cup her backside, pulling her closer so that her bare center pressed against his erection. She rocked her hips, grinding against him and dampening his cotton lounge pants with her arousal. Mihawk could feel her heat against his cock, and slammed his mouth against hers as his one of his hands tangled in her hair.
Keeping one hand in her hand, Mihawk slid the other from her body to maneuver his pants far enough down his thighs so that his cock sprung free. His hand slid back to her hip, guiding her to rock her hips again. She whimpered as his cock rubbed through her folds, coating him in her fluids and making it easier to glide together on the next thrust. Mihawk moved her slowly along his length once more, pulling her forward so that the head of his cock bumped against her clit.
Mihawk held tighter to her hips as she tried to speed up. He hummed softly, pulling away from her kiss once more. This time he tipped her chin with one hand so that she caught his golden gaze.
“What’s the rush, beautiful? We’ve got all night.”
Despite his words, Mihawk pulled her up so that he could angle his cock at just the right angle. When he tugged on her hips again, she slowly sunk down on his cock. Mihawk watched her as her head fell back, a loud, low moan echoing in the room as her eyes fluttered shut. Both of his hands slid to her hips, massaging the soft flesh before he guided her to set a slow, sensual pace.
He did have all night, and Mihawk planned to use every second to bring her pleasure just so he could watch her expression in the moonlight of the window, with the fire still roaring at her back.
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
300 Yuan To Love || Lay
Summary: The road to hell is paved with good intentions and, in this case, some rice cakes along the way. Or: Yixing makes a dumb bet but even when he wins, he loses.
Lenght: 5.4k
Genre: Humour/Fluff/mild Angst
Like with all shitty things in life, at least from a masculine standpoint, it begins with the desire to take a cute girl out on a date.
It’s hot and humid in Hangzhou, as is typical for the summer cycle in this part of China, and Zhang Yixing bikes up to Wang Xun’s cake stand with his balls tucked neatly in his wicker basket. This was his grandma’s doing, really. She knew Yixing needed a job and whilst she was wandering the neighborhood one afternoon, she ran into him.
Had it been anybody else, had it even been written in the Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, then Yixing would’ve immediately said no. But, it just so happens that Yixing is weak for his granny. So, when she returned from her walk, staggering with a fabric trolley full of leeks and other proteins, with a shiny look in her eyes, Zhang Yixing was honor-bound to accept.
Glutinous rice cakes are Zhang Yixing’s worst nightmare, and he starts work the next day
Just the smell is enough to give him a thick sense of nausea. Wang Xun knows this, and Yixing is about ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that he’s banking off of that. So, what’s it about it all, that has Yixing bike towards there, on a road so quintessential that you could practically hear the 80’s pop music behind him?
Well, he needs a new haircut, that’s what. That, and he wants the opportunity to take his best friend, you, out someplace nice. It’s the latter mostly. Especially the latter.
You both entered Uni not too long ago but only one entered the prestigious option. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t Yixing. It doesn’t bother him much though, because he never intends to be a fancy businessman anyway. He applied to a local college to learn dance, and music theory, which he’s passionate about. On top of that, even though it sees him lose more money than it ever does see him gain it— Yixing enjoys posting his amateur attempts at rapping over on Weibo, which garners some positive feedback.
Meanwhile, there’s you. You’ve been friends with him since the first grade but you’re about as different from him as a banana to a pineapple. You set out to enter business, much like the rest of your family, and Yixing often catches you nowadays during your coffee not-dates in pressed blouses and pencil skirts. Your fierce makeup gives you an air of exclusivity, which makes Yixing’s breezy noncommittal to looking posh, nearly garish.
His idea of having a sense of style is often eclectic and vintage, in conflicting patterns and textures. He got into krumping, and this saw him, in turn, get into wearing blaze red tracksuits and little braids in his hair. It also saw him bleach his hair to the point of no return, which you made fun of him for relentlessly.
The consequence of having such an outlandish appearance—though at this point, he has his hair an ugly, faded red— came one day, full force, during one of your bi-weekly coffee not-dates.
You two were in the midst of a serious conversation when some yuppie mistook your frown as being caused by Yixing’s presence. So, he did what any overbearing yuppie does. He tried to forcibly remove Yixing from the situation with the same technique you use to swat away a pigeon that wants your Kentucky Fried Chicken.
It was embarrassing for all three of you and this is where it does bother Yixing, who’s become notorious for being blissfully unaware of any and everything. For one, he doesn’t see you as often as he wants to, and secondly, a part of him worries he’s slowly sinking beneath you.
Sure, this was a lifelong thing. You’d always come from the better and wealthier family whilst Yixing grew up with his grandparents in a relatively small, rickety house. But you don’t feel these things when you’re ten and frog hunting in the mud, you don’t feel these things when you hold your best friend’s dirty hand at the bus stop to ‘see what it’s like’ on your way to the arcade.
Admittedly, Yixing isn’t super certain as to why he feels the way he feels. He’ll figure this out by the end of the day but he doesn’t know that yet. His pretty face earns him a lot of kind-hearted Jiejies who’re happy to pay for his lunches out of pity. Usually, he’ll open up his phone and add a reminder in his notes to pay them back when he can, and this tends to be the end of his guilt. But, he doesn’t ponder on it too long either.
It’s not exactly in Yixing’s nature to delve too deeply into his own psyche, it’s that naive streak of his. He’s simple-minded and he knows that he is. It keeps him happy and he has that mindset from what he likes, all the way down to what he dislikes.
So, when he finally parks by the stall, over-grown bangs tied in a silly looking bun and testicles in tow, he resolves to approach this in the same way Zhang Yixing approaches all areas of his life:
He’ll just have to do his very best.
“Yixing!” Wang Xun says cheerfully, greeting Yixing with a tight hug after he locks his bike up to an iron fence. “Wow! So handsome!” He beams, pinching at those devastatingly high cheekbones as Yixing’s face quickly goes flush.
“Thank you, Gege.” He replies with a small, polite bow. Yixing’s humble and appreciative demeanor is broken as soon as he glances over at the thick, fragrant slabs of cake, just waiting to be touched, fondled and sold. His skin takes on a greenish hue.
Catching this, Xun thinks now would be a good time to have a little bit of fun with his new employee.
See, this job is often a dull one and last night, his wife, bless her memory, accidentally made double the usual quantity. Even on the busiest day, there’s always at least a bit of leftovers. This usually isn’t much of an issue because there’s a homeless shelter nearby. The only problem? They were quickly becoming tired of being constantly fed leftover rice cakes. Wang Xun hates waste, so he has a plan.
Diddling his fingers, he begins, “I heard from your granny that you want to earn some extra money. I know this doesn’t pay so well, but… How would you like to place a wager?”
Yixing turns to him with a look that is simultaneously hopeful and apprehensive. Wang Xun thinks that, oh yes, this will be fun. Very fun indeed. Unfortunately thouh, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and, in this case, some rice cakes along the way.
For you, whom summer often means being able to forget your studies and instead, focus on your friends and family, this one is already shaping up to be a massive disappointment. Some of your friends went back to their hometowns, whilst others went abroad. The most important contestant though, Zhang Yixing, your closest friend, your secret beloved, had gotten a job.
Your shoulders fell right down to your ankles when you got the news over the phone a night ago. But he sounded so excited that you couldn’t bare to complain. After all, you weren’t his girlfriend. Did Yixing even have a girlfriend? You don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk about any girls, even though he always has at least one woman around him. Maybe he was gay?
You sighed, lying on your back with your phone across your chest.
You only become concerned for Yixing and his mental state, when you find out what his job is, and the strange bet that succeeds it. You receive that text at ten am sharp.
«(Y/N)! Me and Xun-Ge (Do you remember him? He says hi! ^^) Made a bet for three hundred yuan to see who can sell the most rice cakes. The catch is that if we aren’t exact in our measurements, we must eat the surplus. I hope you’ll come and support me!!»
You reply instantly, wondering if all of this is some sick prank but that’s not in his character. Of course you remember Wang Xun, he runs that cake stand near the city square. You like his wife’s cakes but with that you also know…
«Yixing… You hate rice cakes???»
«I know, this means I’ll be even more motivated to win! Please come and support me!»
And this is how you end up on a plastic pull-out chair, watching your best friend torture himself for three hundred yuan, under the hot sun. “Are you ready, Yixing?” Wang Xun asks him and his grin is devilish. You can tell he completely expects Yixing to tank the whole competition.
“I was born ready, Gege! May the best man win!” Yixing grins and throws a little glance over his shoulder, hoping that you think he’s cool.
In that silly ‘Zhang Yixing’ way, he does look pretty cool, especially when he lifts the hem of his neon t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his browbone. The sad thing is that you would put money down the fact that Yixing will lose the three hundred yuan.
Truthfully, he can win this competition on sex appeal alone, if only he was aware of his own pull to begin with. Yixing isn’t though. He never was. He has the habit of presenting himself as a perfect image of self-control. You reckon the only correlation he’s made thus far is that the less clothes he wears, the more the female sex tends to smile around him. It’s a bit silly because Yixing, even now, will still walk around you in nothing but his boxers, as if he doesn’t look like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad.
Needless to say, you, who has known him since a young age, rarely get to see him eschew from that respectability— sans his semi-nudist tendencies, that is.
Well, that’s until he begins losing the bet. Make no mistake though, Yixing tanks the bet before it can even begin.
“Ahhh, just 0.75? Why not make it a full KG?” Yixing whines at the customer, an older woman with a cold and mysterious look to her. “You don’t need to worry about your diet, Jiejie, you’re beautiful just the way you are. Eat the full kilo, your heart will thank you.”
Wang Xun chortles in the background as No-Name Jiejie rips him a new one. Somewhat offended yourself, you instinctively cross your arms across your soft middle and bite your lip. The next customer is another female, this one about high school aged. She orders a meager 0.25 KG and you try not to look at her with too much jealousy.
As she leaves, she turns to say: “Gege, you’re very handsome, but you shouldn’t make comments about a woman’s body like this. I think it’d be better if you found her and apologized for wounding her pride. Have a nice day~”
She waves before turning on her heels and Yixing looks at you in desperation, not understanding where his sales tactics are failing him. Your response is to cock a brow.
Even before his embarrassing comments, which you can only attribute as being brought on by a semester spent in South Korea, where he held a part time job as the person advertising Gangnam PS on the train, you were already slowly becoming annoyed with him. Why did you even bother to come out here in the first place?
It was unbearably hot and all you’re doing is watching the sweat stain on his back grow and grow while your thighs become welted from the plastic straps on the chair. Your leg skin is ruddy and bumped from shaving the night before and even though you like rice cakes, that and the smell of humid, mowed grass is threatens to make you sick.
Plus, it’s not as if you enjoy watching Yixing lose a dumb bet he should’ve already known he’d never win. By the time the sun is at it’s peak, around one-ish, you confront him behind the pagoda, where he gags in his fist.
“Yixing, I want to go home.” You say with your arms crossed, leaning against a ridged wall as you stare down at the dirt between you two. Yixing instantly looks up— churning stomach be damned. His eyes are wide and his face is a sweaty mess, but despite that, the disappointment is evident.
“You can’t go!” His voice comes out more frantically than it perhaps should. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, trying not to seem too upset with him. Rather, you wish to simply look like you’re not feeling well. The snap to your tone betrays you though. It always does.
“This is ridiculous. It’s too hot outside and you’re making a goddamn fool out of yourself. What was the point of even having me here?” Yixing’s lips press into a thin line.
“We haven’t hung out in a while so—”
“So you think having me watch you make yourself sick is fun?” Normally, you would dislike the mean edge in your laugh, whenever you got the least bit annoyed with him. It might be the oppressive heat making your adrenaline run higher. Or, maybe, just maybe, Yixing’s lack of negative aspect gets on your nerves a lot more than you’d like to admit. Maybe, a deep, dark part of you wants to see Yixing get annoyed with you too, show you a face more offended than just one of mild hurt.
He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, Yixing shoves his palms down his back pockets and rocks on his heels. Exhaling through his nose, Yixing opens his mouth to speak but closes up, pouting in a way which makes his lips look even pinker than they already are. It’s aggro, plain and simple.
“Aiyo! All this for an extra three hundred yuan you won’t win anyway?” You scoff, “If you need it so badly, ask me. I’ll lend it to you.”
Finally, his facade cracks and you’re not sure you like what you see. “Three hundred yuan may not mean much to you but it means a lot to others! Not everybody is wealthy like you!” His voice raises an octave, tone turning nasally and thick.
“You’re right. It means jack shit to me.” To prove your point, you reach into your daisy-shaped purse and pull out a few crumpled notes. “That’s why you should just relieve me of my burden and take the fucking yuan.”
Yixing, with his face as red as a chili pepper, gently pushes your hand back towards you. “You’re not treating me like a man.” He says.
Stomping your foot against the grass, you cry out: “Because you aren’t a man, Zhang Yixing!”
With that comes a steady, harsh silence. Yixing looks at you with an expression which you can’t decipher, as it’s not one you’ve ever seen on him. Once the guilt hits, and it hits fast, you let out a choked, “I’m going home. I’ll text you later.”
Just like that, you leave him there, before you lose control of your emotions in an entirely new way. After all, if Yixing never wanted to kiss you before, he certainly isn’t going to want to kiss you now, after what you just said to him.
Throwing your leg across the body of your bike, you push yourself until your knees hurt and Yixing is but a speck in the distance.
Things don’t get any better for Yixing after you leave, if anything, they become even worse, which is saying something. The idea of winning this bet begins to seem more and more fantastical, especially with the strange feeling holding onto his heart.
Whether it’s due to your hurtful words, or an impending heart attack, remains uncertain but one thing is for sure. Yixing has brain cells, and those brain cells are rapidly depleting.
“Ahh!” He screams, in Xiang, out at the neighboring lake and all the people paddle-boating. They stop and look at him like he’s an insane chipmunk. “It’s such a beautiful day!”
Yixing waves his fists around before cramming more baked shame down his gullet. Whilst singing an obscure folk song, he nearly falls over the stony ledge whilst doing a jaunty little dance.
Wang Xun, who has greatly overestimated his own mathematical prowess, as well as his abilities as a businessman, is the one who stops Yixing from meeting his soggy demise.
He places two sobering hands on Yixing’s shoulders. “We still have more cakes to sell.” When he speaks, passerbys can see his soul leave from his lips. Much like Yixing, Wang Xun has consumed so much goddamn cake that he fears he’ll wake up a rice cake. He reconsiders his line of work, but its much too late for that quitter mentality. He and Yixing are in it to the death.
Yixing, gaunt-cheeked, turns around with a rattle. “Gege… I want to give up.” He utters miserably. Xun considers calling the bet off himself but, the sun is setting, twilight is nearly upon them. He’s already lost so much money that unless he returns home victorious, there was a big chance he wouldn’t see the next day as a married man.
He laughs so hard the button holding his jeans together pops and hits Yixing right in the big toe.
“Yeah… Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Once you get home, the first thing you do is kick off your sweaty sandals before lying belly-first across your bed. Your eyes prickle as you shake your head to yourself. This is so stupid, you’re not really about to cry over Yixing again, are you?
Your fingers twist in your bed sheets as a few tears manage to squeeze their way out of your eyes. It seems like you are.
Flipping over so that your nose is in the air, you try to blink away the wetness. Throwing your arm across your face, your thoughts go to how stupid Yixing is. How stupid you are. Anybody with half a functional brain cell could see that you have a crush on him, one which spanned nearly the entirety of your friendship.
In elementary school, it was strange, because you never felt this way about anybody, not even the handsome actors you saw on TV. The only thing you had a full grasp on was that you liked this strange, chubby boy, who was also your close friend— a lot.
He had a sweet penchant for taking care of cats, none of which he could remember to name and whenever you were sad, he would lift his shirt and jiggled his belly.
His grandma also made delicious, albeit very spicy food, and they spoke in a dialect of Chinese which you couldn’t understand but found amusing to listen to. Afterwards, Yixing would let you rest your ear against his soft middle to hear the way his food digested, and all those gurgles and pops.
Your first experience with unrequited love must have been that. When you began wanting to nudge your head, so that your lips could press tender, butterfly kisses between his fleshy, brown rib cage. Instinctively, you knew not to.
High school was bearable, but only because for the majority of it, you were more popular than Yixing.
It was during the second to last year were his height shot and he became taller than most of the other boys. Suddenly, girls started to look at him with the same eyes as you. Suddenly, girls began to notice how handsome he was, how kind he was. It leaves you as you are now, supine on your mattress, unsure where to go from this point on.
With your pride majorly wounded, you stand up and waddle your way across the hall. Rarely are you ever desperate enough to ask your older sister, Mei, for advice. You knock on her door.
“What do you want?” She snaps, sliding off her headset. You take this as the okay to sit on her bed and divulge, and she eyes you with suspicion every step. “It’s just,” You sigh, smacking your lips as your legs cross beneath you. “Do you remember Yixing?”
Her face falls instantly. “Oh no. No. No. Not him again!” She grabs a small My Melody plush from her desk and chucks it towards your head. “Get out. I’m not listening to any of this Yixing shit. If I wanted a Korean drama, I’d go look on Tencent.”
You grabbed the toy and threw it back at her, whining, “I’m serious!!”
Mei kicks your knee with her manicured, cream toes. “Listen!” She cries in exasperation, throwing out her hands. “How many times will you bitch about this? If Zhang Yixing liked you back, he would’ve made a move by now. It’s as simple as that!” Conceding yourself to the understanding that, yes, Yixing doesn’t see you the way you see him, you look down at the small floral decals over her nailbed and begin to pick with a puffed cheek. “I understand that, Jiejie… But I may have said something mean to him.”
Seeing the sad look on your face makes Mei relent. “Then apologize to him, dummy.” She sighs as you lay across your side, clutching her foot to you as you try to hold back tears. She pushes herself closer, replacing her foot with a hand in yours, using the spare to push some wet strands from your face.
“Look,” She rolls her eyes, though she’s taken on a gentler tone. “Zhang Yixing sees you as a friend. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck by your side for all of these years. If you said something mean to him, just tell him you weren’t feeling well and that you’re sorry. He seems like a nice guy, I’m sure he’ll forgive you easily. But before that, I think you need to forgive him for not being able to return your feelings, (Y/N). You’re always getting into these petty arguments, it seems to me like you’ve become bitter over your unrequited feelings. You need to make peace with the fact that you’re his friend and nothing but, or else the day will come where Zhang Yixing will no longer feel like accepting your apologies.” You nod, but why does it hurt so much to let go of this love, even if it’s hopeless?
Eventually, after you calm yourself down and rinse off your face, you begin to feel more and more uncomfortable with the way you’ve treated him. It grows and it grows until you can’t take it anymore. You set off to try and find him and, hopefully, make things right again.
“I lost, didn’t I?” Yixing breathes, sitting on the stone steps as Wang Xun begins to pack up for the day. With an apologetic smile, the older man replies, “Yes, but barely.”
“Ahhh,” He sighs, looking up at the stars. Today has been a real nightmare. It seems like nothing he set out has accomplish. He’s offended people for no reason, rocks live in his stomach and worst of all, you’ve become upset with him. Yixing swallows thickly.
“(Y/N)’s become rather feisty since I’ve last seen her.” Xun points out. “She has.” There’s a silence before Yixing adds, “Gege, I don’t know if there’s room for me in her life anymore. The more I think of it, the more I feel I don’t belong by her side. We used to laugh and smile together but nowadays, whenever I call her out, she’s tense. We never used to fight this much, I think she thinks I’m beneath her, and is only trying to spare my emotions.”
Wang Xun takes a seat next to him, stretching out his legs before glancing up at the sky as well. “All this because of what she said?” Yixing doesn’t respond, which is confirmation enough.
“Women— No, not just women, people will often say things they don’t mean when they feel as though they’ve been hurt.” He says, “I think the same is true for her. She’ll apologize soon enough, so don’t take her words to heart.” Pause. “And if she doesn’t? There are so many more women out there for you to pine after. Eventually, you’ll find the one who doesn’t break your heart.”
Neither of them speak after this, not until something, or rather somebody, catches Yixing’s eye. It’s the Jiejie from earlier. Excusing himself, Yixing jogs up to her.
She stops the moment she sees him and scowls. “What do you want?” She snaps, her dog running off into the bushes. Her expression is so fierce, it reminds him a bit of yours.
Though he freezes up, he pushes past it and she jumps back when he bows so deeply, there’s a crack to his spine.
“I wanted to say that I’m really sorry if I offended you earlier today,” Yixing blushes, “You see, I had a bet with that man over there.” He points over to Wang Xun, who’s in the process of cleaning his ear out with his pinkie. “And I’m afraid in my attempt to earn a bit of extra pocket money, I’ve said and done some things I normally wouldn’t say or do. I hope you can forgive me.”
The woman stood there stunned and Yixing is afraid that might not be enough. She thinks of his apology for a second before shaking it off. “I see,” She nods pensively. “I take it, this was all for your girlfriend’s sake?” Yixing stands up straight, blinking a few times for clarity.
“What girlfriend?”
“The girl that sat behind you, she wasn’t your girlfriend?” Yixing shakes his head. “Christ…” She mumbles, instantly grateful that she’s already lived through the ‘stupid love’ phase. She sighs.
“I forgive you. We all have lapses in our judgment and as long as you understand that, and think before you speak next time, I don’t see a reason to hold it against you.”
“Thank you, Jiejie!” Yixing says with a big, happy grin, bowing deeply once more. His heart clears itself a tiny bit.
Unfortunately for his cardiovascular health, at this moment, you bike up next to him and Yixing’s heart is back to feeling like it’s about to burst. Shit.
“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” You ask, much to the woman’s amusement. “No. Me and your ‘friend’ over here were just touching base. I need to go home anyway.” She says, tugging the leash so that her puppy comes running back at her ankles.
As she turns around, she makes sure to tack on a “Good luck!” It’s for both of your sakes.
You park your bike up by the tree trunk, feeling the awkwardness finally hit. It’s already nightfall and the air has cooled off significantly, but you’re so ashamed that your cheeks are blazing and hot.
“Did you apologize to her for earlier?” You ask despite its redundancy. Yixing nods and you can see it from the illumination caused by the lampposts. “I did.”
“That’s good!” You hum, trying to keep your voice steady as you fish a green, rectangular bottle out of your purse. “I got you a probiotic drink to help you with… y’know. Here. Catch.”
It lands in his hands and Yixing beams brighter than the stars. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” You furrow your eyebrows. “Because you came back.”
Saying it outloud only has Yixing smile wider and it eats up at his eyes in the most charming of ways. You feel your heart throb.
Clearing your throat, you stutter out. “Right! About that…” You will yourself not to mask your true emotions with the air of nonchalance but you meet his eyes and, fuck, you might as well do that or just start crying.
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean any of it. It was wrong and I regret ever treating you this way.” You expect Yixing to hold a more serious stance, but he laughs, opening his arms.
“Aw, it’s alright. Come here and give me a hug.”
Slowly, you take steps towards him before burrowing into his chest, hands fisting against his shirt as tears begin to prickle in your eyes. Yixing smells too sweet and sweaty but past that, you can feel the warmth of his skin. His body is solid yet comforting and you want to be in his arms all day and all night.
“Why are you crying?” Yixing asks, feeling the moisture through his shirt. and you laugh dryly. He sways you side to side before pulling at your face. “If you cry, I might start crying too.”
Yixing’s fingers release from your skin and instead, move to hold you. “So, no crying, alright?” The touch makes you breathless.
“Yixing, I…” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them. He tilts his head, smiling softly in anticipation. Should you confess to him? You already know you have to let this go. Will it make your shoulders lighter if he knows how you feel? You shake your head at yourself.
No. Yixing is too delicate of a person to treat you the same knowing you’ve fallen for him. Seeing your knees buckle, Yixing leads you to the bench. Swallowing your heart, you resolve for the next best truth.
“Yixing, I’ve missed you a lot.” “Oh! I’ve missed you too.” Yixing responds with an annoying ease, uncapping the pribiotic before taking a sip. He grimaces at the bitter taste, making you giggle at his cute reaction. As you laugh, Yixing’s heart does a somersault and suddenly, there’s not enough air in the world. It’s an emotion that only you cause in him. Not even the prettiest girls give him this type of feeling and it puts him on edge, but in the most tender way.
“Why did you accept this bet anyway?” You ask, gazing at the lake, which is now devoid of people. Steady and dark, with the reflection of the moon.
Yixing considers it. “I think I did it to feel better about myself.” He leans back and caps the bottle, fingers almost touching yours as he holds the bottle between his knees.
He stares up at the silver moon.
You turn to look at him in surprise, gazing at his profile. Yixing catches you in his peripheral and nods with a sheepish smile. “Yeah.”
He swallows and then adds, “My hair needs fixing and…” He considers closely the next thing he’s about to say, but throughout the past several hours, this is the only conclusion he can draw. The more he says the words in his head, the righter they feel. “And I wanted to take you out on a date.”
Your eyes widen and Yixing grabs your hand, too afraid that you’ll run from him again. “But I lost the bet, so there’s that.” He mumbles.
With the air squeezed from your lungs, you whisper, “We don’t need money to—”
“I know we don’t, but I wanted it anyway. It was selfish and vain of me, I know. But, I thought… Maybe if I had more money, you’d be more inclined to see me as a man… As somebody you can actually date.”
Taking the leap of faith, you lace your fingers through his. Yixing squeezes tight and you close your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his hand. Years. It’s been years since he’s done this.
You’ve waited so long, since that day at the bus stop, to feel his hand on yours again and for it not be just to see what it feels like. Finally, you feel like you can breathe. It fits as perfectly against yours as it did back then.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I do think of you as a man. I’m sorry that I’m bitter and dramatic. I’ve taken these emotions out on you without realizing it, all because I’m bothered that you don’t see me the way I’ve seen you throughout all these years. I hope you can forgive me, I’ve been a bad friend.”
“When you speak with such a voice,” Yixing laughs, “It’s impossible for me not to. I’m scared of what you could do to me.”
There’s a silence and you bring his knuckles up to your lips. Yixing’s eyes flutter shut with a lazy grin.
There’s never been such a perfect moment in his life.
“I like you just the way you are.” You whisper, the feeling is just about the same for you too. “Thank you.”
“And I’ll wait patiently for you to take me on the date you feel we deserve.” “Thank you.”
He repeats as you two lean against each other and enjoy the serenity of an empty park. If this is what all these years have been working towards, then it must all be worth it in the end. It may not be a crescendo of epic proportions, a searing, tear-filled kiss in the rain, a loud, emotional ‘I love you’ shouted in the middle of a crowded airport, but this is perfect.
Zhang Yixing can turn the mundane into something extraordinary, this is what’s most beautiful about him to you. For a moment, it’s all quiet and that’s just fine.
Until he gets sick all over a bundle of Lotus roots, that is.
11 notes
·
View notes
Photo
June 17th 1823 saw Charles Macintosh patent a waterproof cloth he was using to make raincoats.
Macintosh has gone down in history as the man who gave us the waterproof coats that generally still bear his name, in the generic use of the word "Mac", but it's debatable whether he invented it, or "stole" the idea. .
Five years before he patented his famed process, another Scot had discovered how to make a rubber solution that would repel water. James Syme, a surgeon and chemist based in Edinburgh, had discovered a derivative of coal tar (naphtha) could dissolve rubber and published his findings in Thomson's Annals of Philosophy.
It was the same process used by Macintosh following his own chemistry experiments with waste from Glasgow’s coal-gas works, and it has been claimed that the inventor had read Syme’s work before developing it for his own uses.
While Syme, uninterested in commercial matters, failed to patent his valuable discovery and continued to build a noteworthy career in surgery, Macintosh stamped his name on the idea in June 1823.
His patent, number 4,804, described how to “manufacture for rendering the texture of hemp, flax, wool, cotton, silk, and also leather, paper and other substances impervious to water and air”.
Syme’s paper had not detailed the crucial sandwich-type construction employed by Macintosh, although this too was not completely new.
Spanish scientists previously used the method to make leak-proof containers for mercury, and renowned English balloonist Charles Green made a balloon envelope that applied the same principle in 1821.
French scientists also made balloons gas-tight and impermeable by impregnating fabric with rubber dissolved in turpentine and the use of rubber to waterproof fabric dates back to the Aztecs, who used natural latex.
But what made Macintosh’s invention revolutionary was its ease of manufacture and wear, seeing him swiftly launching into the production of cloth to be converted into coats and other garments by tailors in Glasgow.
The early versions were far from perfect, becoming stiff in the cold, sticky in the heat, and causing discomfort for wearers by trapping their sweat.
Tailors were initially reluctant to use the problematic fabric, causing Macintosh to set up his own company and move the production of waterproof clothing to Manchester.
As news of his invention spread, the repeated misspelling of the inventor’s name is thought to have popularised the description of the resulting coat as a “Mackintosh” – a name that has stuck to the present day.
In 1830, his company merged with a clothing firm owned by Thomas Hancock, who had been experimenting with rubber-coated fabrics for years.
Macintosh’s new partner patented his own method for vulcanising rubber that ironed out many problems and drove the popularity of raincoats and riding garments later supplied to the Army, railway workers, police and on the Arctic expedition led by Sir John Franklin in 1924.
First sold in 1824, his coat remains on the market in numerous forms across the world, including from the luxury brand still bearing its inventor’s name. I had a wee look on their web site, their cheapest "Mac" is over £300, going up to just short of a grand!
Having said that, each finished Mackintosh coat will have been hand cut, glued and sewn in the same factory in Scotland. Skilled Scottish craftsmen and women use techniques that have remained largely unchanged for almost 200 years since Macintosh's original process.
Macintosh was elected as a fellow of the Royal Society for his contributions to chemistry and enjoyed considerable success he died in 1843, aged 76.
Loads more to learns about the Mackintosh from this great article here http://rainwearpassion.com/raincoats/mackintosh-raincoats-in-sbr-and-rubber/
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
13)What is Sustainability?
The concept of sustainability is composed of three pillars: environmental, economic and social. Explained in the English dictionary Sustainability is the “avoidance of the depletion of natural resources in order to maintain ecological balance.” Sustainability is the focus on meeting the demands of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their needs. Sustainability influences businesses to take a more active approach in improving the environment. Increasingly, companies have issued goals such as commitment to zero-waste packaging by a certain year, or to reduce overall emissions by a certain percentage.
The environmental impact of the fashion industry
Although the fashion industry is striving toward a more sustainable future, the industry still has a disastrous impact on the environment. It is considered to be the second biggest polluter of the world, just after the oil industry; and the impact is only increasing environmental damages as the industry continues to grow.
Water pollution
In a lot of the countries that garments are typically produced; untreated toxic waste waters from these textile factories are dumped directly into the rivers.
Waste water contains toxic substances, such as lead, mercury and arsenic among many others. These have an extremely harmful impact on the aquatic life and the health of those living near these rivers.The contamination eventually reaches the sea and eventually spreads around the globe.
Another major source of water contamination is the extended use of fertilisers for cotton production, which heavily pollutes run off and evaporation waters.
To prevent this we should choose clothes made in countries that have stricter environmental regulations for factories ie Canada, the EU and Us.
We should also choose more organic and natural fibres that do not require chemicals to be produced.
Water Consumption
The fashion industry is a major water consumer.
Large quantities of fresh water are used for the dyeing and finishing process for all of our clothes. To put this into perspective; It can take up to 200 tonnes of fresh water per tonne of dyed fabric.
Cotton also needs large amounts of water to grow; Up to 20,000 litres of water are needed to produce 1kg of cotton. This causes many issues, one being that it generates tremendous pressure on this already scarce source and secondly, it has dramatic ecological consequences such as the decertification of the Aral Sea; where cotton production has completely drained out the water.
Image found and taken from: https://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/images/46685/the-shrinking-aral-sea-recovers
We should be more conscious and choose fibres with low water consumption such as linen and recycled fibres etc.
Microfibres in the Ocean
When synthetic garments like polyester, nylon etc are washed, about 1,900 individual microfibres are released into the water; which then make its way into the oceans.
Scientists have since discovered that small aquatic organisms ingest these microfibres; These are then eaten by small fish which are then eaten by bigger fish, introducing plastic into our food chain.
To help eliminate this, we should use natural or semi-synthetic fibres.
Waste accumulation
Clothing has become disposable and as a result of this we are seeing- or not seeing- more textile waste being generated.
The average western household throws away around 30kg of clothing each year. Only 15% is recycled or donated, while the rest go directly to landfill or are incinerated.
Synthetic fibres like polyester are plastic fibres and therefore, non-biodegradable and can take up to 200 years to decompose. Synthetic fibres are used in 72% of our clothing.
We can choose natural or semi-synthetic fibres and buy less, buy better quality, mend and recycle clothes to help reduce this.
Chemicals
Chemicals are a major component in our clothes. They are used during fibre production, dyeing, bleaching and the wet processing of each garment.
This heavy use of cotton farming, causes diseases and premature death among cotton farmers. Along with that, massive amounts of fresh water and ocean water pollution and soil degradation are created.
These substances are also harmful to us, the consumer.
In order for us to reduce this we should choose organic fibres, sustainable and ethical brands and always wash new clothes before use. We should also look and wear garments with certification labels- such as; OEKO-TEX, GOTS or BLUESIGN.
Greenhouse gas emissions
The fashion industry is accountable for 10% of global carbon emissions.
The industry is generating a lot of greenhouse gases due to the amount of energy that is used during its production and manufacturing process as well as the transportation of garments each year.
Synthetic fibres(Polyester, acrylic, nylon etc.) which are used in the majority of our clothes, are made from fossil fuel; making this a more energy-intensive process than with natural fibres. Most of our clothing is produced in countries that are essentially powered by coal like China, Bangladesh and India to name few. This is the most impure and dirtiest type of energy in terms of carbon emission.
James Conca, Forbes reflects that “Cheap synthetic fibres also emit gases like N2O which is 300 times more damaging than CO2.”
Being aware of this, we should aim to buy clothes in countries powered by renewable energy and or choose natural fibres and buy better quality or mend clothing.
Soil Degradation
Soil, is the fundamental element of our ecosystem. Healthy soil is needed for food production but also to absorb CO2.
The global degradation of soil is one of the main environmental issues our planet is facing- contributing to global warming and threatening global food security.
The fashion industry plays a major part in the degradation of soil in many ways: overgrazing of pastures through cashmere goats and sheep raised for their wool; massive use of chemicals to grow cotton and the use of wood based fibres like rayon that is causing deforestation. It is because of this that we should be conscious of more soil friendly fibres.
Rainforest Destruction
Every year, thousands of hectares of endangered and ancient rainforests are cut down and replaced by plantation of trees used to make wood-based fabrics such as rayon, viscose and modal.
The loss of forests are a direct threat to the ecosystem and indigenous communities. Over the past decade Indonesia has suffered large- scale deforestation of its rainforests.
Image found and taken from: https://www.thinkinghumanity.com/2018/05/revealing-video-by-greenpeace-international-raises-awareness-of-massive-deforestation-in-indonesia.html
Opt for lyocell/tencel instead of rayon, modal or viscose materials.
When we’re talking about the negative impacts that the fashion industry has on the environment, we should also take into account the un-ethical practices of those that are in the fast fashion garment making industry,
Majority of our clothes are made in countries in which workers rights are limited or non-existent. Production companies regularly move locations in search for even cheaper labour costs.Many of our beloved fashion brands assure its customers that the people making their clothes are paid at least the minimum legal wage. However in most countries like China, Bangladesh and India the minimum wage is said to be a lot less- between half to a fifth of the living wage. We can even see this type of thing with fast fashion retailers like ‘Boohoo’ who had been reported to only be paying their workers at their Leicester factory a meagre £3.50 an hour, when the minimum legal wage in the UK for those aged 25 and above stands at £8.72.Despite these claims BooHoo still managed to accumulate a surge in sales. It is also worth mentioning that Boohoo’s sister company ‘Pretty Little Thing’ received backlash after their Black Friday sale which reduced its products down to 99%. It was also discovered that during this current climate, the staff at the Leicester factory were not wearing protective face masks to help stop the spread of the coronavirus and so it comes as no surprise to find out the fashion workers are exploited and forced to work in health compromising working conditions in poorer climates. Garment workers are forced often forced to work 14-16 hours a day, 7 days a week in order to meet the brands deadlines. Because these workers have such a low income, a lot of them are unable to refuse overtime and in some cases, overtime is not even paid at all.
The collapse of the Rana Plaza, in 2013, killing 1134 garment workers in Dhaka, Bangladesh has given us a peek into the unacceptable labour conditions of these garment making factories within the fashion industry.
Image found and take from: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/jun/19/rana-plaza-uk-pressure-compensation-fund-victims
Workers are often left without ventilation; breathing in toxic substances. Accidents, fires, injuries and disease are very prevalent occurrences within these unethical textile production sites.
It is estimated that 168 billion children in the world are forced to work. Because the fashion industry requires low-skilled labour, children are often recruited and this is very prominent in the industry. In South India, 250,000 girls work under the sumangali scheme, in which girls are sent to work for 3-5 years in a textile factory in exchange for a basic wage and a lump sum at the end of their dowry. These children are often left overworked and are forced to live in appalling conditions.
Image found and taken from: https://features.hrw.org/features/HRW_2015_reports/Bangladesh_Garment_Factories/chapter-1.html
Sustainable Fashion
Image found and taken from: https://fashionmagazine.com/style/high-fashion-sustainable-clothing-photoshoot/
The meaning of sustainable fashion is having the intention to reduce environmental impact and improve social conditions within the industry.
The Green Strategy has set out clear goals to improve all stages of a product lifestyle focusing on harmful environmental effects and working conditions.
The Environmental Goals are aimed to protect natural resources; water, energy, land, soil, animals, plants, biodiversity, ecosystems; select renewable energy sources; wind, wave, solar, repair, remake, reuse, care and recycle products; Improve working conditions in the field, factories, transportation chain, and stores and to follow good ethics, best practice and international codes of conduct to ensure that these goals are maintained.
Green Strategy’s Anna Brismar has since identified seven main forms of more sustainable fashion production and consumption, as seen below.
Image found and taken from: https://www.greenstrategy.se/sustainable-fashion/seven-forms-of-sustainable-fashion/
Circular Fashion as explained by A. Brismar 2017 is “defined as clothes, shoes or accessories that are designed, sourced, produced and provided with the intention to be used and circulated responsibly and effectively in society for as long as possible in their most valuable farmland hereafter return safely to the biosphere when no longer of human use.”
The concept of circular fashion is based on the main principles of the circular economy and sustainable development. It’s concerned with the entire life cycle of a product, from design and sourcing all the way to production.
Essentially, fashion products should be designed with longevity, resource efficiency, non-toxicity, biodegradability, recyclability and good ethics in mind.
Moreover, products should be used for as long as possible, through good care, repair, refurbishment and sharing among multiple users over time. Things like shopping second hand/vintage, rent clothing, use resale sites, like Vinted, eBay, Depop and others alike can help with this as well as investing in circular fashion brands like MaisonCléo, AVAVAV and Rave Review who all use dead stock and left over materials for their creations; extending the life of unwanted or over-produced fabrics that would most likely end up landfill; materials should be recycled and reused for the manufacturing of new products. If unfit for recycling, these materials should instead be composted to become nutrients for plants and other living organisms in the ecosystem.
‘Clevercare’ owned by designer Stella McCartney has created a list of tips to help ensure the longevity of your clothing and to also become more environmentally friendly. She suggests to; not wash your clothes as often and spot clean; Wash clothes at a lower temperature to save energy and extend the life of your clothing; Hang clothes out to dry instead of relying on a tumble dryer and avoid using energy; Iron only when necessary; Consider using eco friendly dry cleaners and if you tire of an old item of clothing, recycle it and ultimately, the less you wash your clothes the better.
Fashion is seeing the start of products being pulled into the market based on actual demand rather than being pushed towards us based on guesses and forecasts.
Fashion on demand is a factor that a lot of designers are adopting to make their practices more ethical and environmentally aware as spoken by A.Brismar 2017 “We are likely to see a rise in the demand for more personalised items of higher quality that are produced ‘on-demand’ (such as tailor-made, custom-made and bespoke items.” Through this concept, we will hopefully see the result of a rise in just-in-time production, reduced levels of overstock, and an increase in the importance of small-batch production cycles.
Image found and taken from: https://bymegancrosby.com/collections/blooming-chaos-🍓
Designer Megan Crosby tailors to each customer, producing made to order pieces using old stock or sustainable fabrics, bold, bright fabric. Megan herself says that she uses “remnant, sustainable and deadstock fabrics as well as environmentally friendly dyes on every garment, to make sure I’m not harming the planet... Each item is made to order, so as well as giving you the perfect fit, I’m also not wasting fabric.” Statement taken and found: https://bymegancrosby.com/pages/about
Circular fashion is a concept that encourages to keep clothing and materials in use through recycling, repurposing and rewearing, avoiding the idea of making completely new products, thus, reducing the amount of ecologically harmful waste. This idea helps us to introduce the reduction of the amount of resources we are using up, as well as the amount of materials and products that end up in landfill.
Image found and taken from: https://stormfashion.dk/product/headwear/headband-marine-serre-1
Designer, Marine Serre creates dresses from patch worked vintage scarves and up-cycles used garments.
Compassionate Fashion: The protection of nature and people
Compassionate fashion (Slow fashion) has been developed as a contrast to the fast fashion industry. The aims are to create clothing within the lens of environmental, ethical, and sustainable ideals. As a result of this, slow fashion finds itself recycling material, reusing excess textiles, up-cycling vintage clothes and advocating for the prolonged lifetime of a garments. While these ideals have always been at the core of the ethical fashion movement, more of the fashion industry is opening up to become more ethically and environmentally conscious.
Designer Stella McCartney and her company believe that “Everybody in our supply chain should be treated with respect and dignity. We believe everybody should earn a fair wage. We believe in building modern and resilient supply chains that provide desirable jobs, foster people’s skills, strengthen worker’s voices and advocate for vulnerable groups.” Stella McCartney 2020
McCartney prides herself on using sustainable or sustainably sourced materials: re-engineered cashmere,100% sustainable viscose, fur free fur, organic cotton, recycled nylon & polyester, vegetarian leather, wool sourced from animal welfare farms etc.
Screenshots taken from: https://www.stellamccartney.com/experience/en/sustainability/themes/materials-and-innovation/
Other brands and designers are taking this approach with E.L.V. Denim taking discarded and unwanted denim; reusing and reworking them into modern and sophisticated designs and Richard Malone who uses natural dyes and little water waste as well as “keeping these women away from harmful chemicals that mega brands consistently overlook in their search for profit over progress.” he states. He has since developed techniques which turned recycled plastic and viscose into yarn and fringing, as well as working with weavers on recycling ocean waste.
How are High Street stores responding to sustainability issues?
Although we are aware that the majority of high street fashion brands are not using ethical and environmentally conscious practices-we are slowly starting to see certain brands and retailers stepping up and heading towards a more sustainable future.
H&M are amongst a few brands that have taken a step towards sustainable fashion. They state that “This is an ongoing process, with a clear aim of continuous improvement...Our vision is for all our operations to be run in a way that is sustainable; economically, socially and environmentally...It will also allow us to improve the livelihood for people and strengthen the communities where we operate. We are involved in various projects and initiatives related to both environmental and social issues.”
H&M have introduced a garment collection service ‘I:collect’ and created a collection attributed to their sustainable practices called ‘The Conscious Collection; where it is said that all items are made from recycled materials. In 2017 their promotion video called ‘H&M Conscious: Bring it on’ suggests that this revoke allows them to revamp these items of clothing, donating them to other people or recycling the materials and making them into new items of clothing or useful items like cloths and cardboard, to name a few- “Instead of throwing old or unwanted garments away, you can bring these to the H&M Store. We will then give them a new life...we work to prevent textiles ending up in landfills...In early 2014, we took the first big steps in this mission and made the first products with at least 20% recycled material from collected garments.”
image found and taken from: https://www.retaildetail.eu/en/news/fashion/hm-continues-its-sustainability-efforts-conscious-exclusive-collection
Zara is another major high street fashion label that has been making an effort to boost its sustainability image with the launch of their ‘JOIN LIFE’ movement; which includes sustainability commitments, ethical goals and products that are made from the most sustainable raw materials – organic cotton, Tencel, Lyocell and recycled polyester, which will account for 20% of Zara’s collections by the end of the of 2015. They claim that by 2025 Zara clothes will be made from 100% sustainable materials- with the owner stating that Massimo Dutti and Pull&Bear will shortly follow suit.
An article from GraziaDaily.co.uk documented that Zara has made plans for 2,232 stores to meet the company’s eco-efficient standard and by 2020, “Zara’s factories will aim to produce zero discharge of hazardous chemicals for all products at every stage of the supply chain, while all collections will use sustainable cotton, linen and recycled polyester by 2025.The company is also committed to producing zero landfill waste from its logistic centres and headquarters by 2023 and those same Zara facilities are driving towards using 80 per cent clean energy before 2025.” To top this off Zara has already eliminated single-use plastic bags, with its bags now being 100% recycled as are its cardboard online boxes. Source: https://graziadaily.co.uk/fashion/news/zara-sustainability/
Images found and taken from: https://www.eco-stylist.com/how-sustainable-is-zara/
https://www.triplepundit.com/story/2016/zara-launches-sustainable-fashion-line-fall/22461
Ultimately,It is through this that we can appreciate H&M’s and Zara’s step towards making their brand more sustainable and ethically conscious. With this we can only hope that more fast fashion brands alike will feel more inclined to adopt this and carry this out into their own brands/labels.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Two Brothers, Many Paths - Ch 30
Thirty chapters already?!? What the pants?! And these boys are still just children! Yikes, it’ll be Ch 300 by the time they’re teens....
Don’t care, I love little Sans and Papyrus far too much to rush. Plus, well, a lot happens to them, as you’ve seen. So.... Here’s to 30 more! :D
As always, thanks for reading! :)
—
Undertale copyright Toby Fox
Story and original characters by me, Kimtana
Please do not use without both permission and credit.
Read below, or read it on AO3 here.
First
Previous
Next
Three days had passed before Sans started feeling like himself again.
He had spent the last few days resting, drinking plenty of warmed water, eating foods that didn’t require a lot of preparation, and bundling up in warmed fabrics. The fire room had once again become host to a slew of draped fabrics soaking up heat, getting switched out every few hours. He still had the occasional chill, but he was grateful that his shivering was long gone—aside from a shudder every now and then—and that his strength had mostly returned.
Papyrus was still bedridden, recuperating from his fractures and broken bones.
Sans had checked the state of his injuries the morning after they had returned from the rotten mounds, and was glad—and impressed—to see that Papyrus had healed himself perfectly. His missing rib had reformed as if it had never been gone, and the rest of his injured bones were fully intact. He still suffered aching stiffness, especially in his neck and lower spine, and was exceedingly tired, but that was to be expected. Sans would give him several days before he started helping his brother stretch out his stiffness, which would help alleviate his pain.
In the meantime, Sans made sure Papyrus ate plenty of food, rested constantly, and drank several cups of warmed up water.
As Sans watched his brother sleeping on that third morning, he gave a sigh of gratitude that they both had had full nights’ sleep for over a month before the incident. Had it not been for their extra HP gained each night, they never would have survived their ordeal. Even after the incident, they were both well over 200 HP of their maximum HP. Sans was glad that he was understanding more about how sleep, food, and caution affected their health, appreciating the wisdom of their parents’ maxims and warnings from when he was younger and didn’t know better.
Papyrus was especially fortunate. Sans shuddered at the thought of how hard he must have hit the water to cause such damage to his tough bones, and couldn’t help but wonder if his attempt at blue soul magic had saved Papyrus by slowing his fall down considerably before it failed.
He shut his eyes tightly and grit his teeth. When they returned to their magic lessons, he was certainly going to practice that blue soul magic. Never again did he want to see his brother fall like that and not be able to rescue him.
Sans slipped out of bed, careful not to rouse Papyrus from his much-needed rest, and stood up. Having extricated himself from the nice, warm bed, a shiver went through him. He rubbed his upper arms and hunched over, giving a hushed “brrr!” before shuffling over to the pantry for a cup.
As he entered the fire room, the magical flame washed over him with its gentle warmth. He poured himself some warm water that had been melting in the pot overnight and sipped it as he stared into the ever-flickering flame.
He was too tired to attempt his morning routine, so instead, after wiping his emptied cup dry and putting it back on the shelf, he grabbed a pear for breakfast. He returned to the fire room as he munched, not wanting to sit on the snowy floor. As he finished, his face had warmed to the point that he felt flushed.
His ears perked when he heard the pained grunt of his brother waking. Sans put the pear core in the waste bag and grabbed a banana, then headed over to the bed.
“Morning, Pap,” he grinned, sitting on the edge.
“Monin, Sas,” Papyrus answered with a grunt, his face grimaced in the discomfort from his stiff, sore bones.
“How are you feeling?” Sans asked, cracking the peel open by the stem.
“Mmmh,” the little skeleton grumbled.
“Yeah,” Sans answered, raising his eyebrows in sympathy. “It will take a while before that goes away. But here, this will help.”
He handed a chunk of the banana to his brother. Papyrus grasped it and took a big bite. He hummed happily as he chewed it, enjoying the taste.
“I’m going to go to the market today,” Sans said, breaking the rest of the banana up into smaller bits. “We’re running low on a lot, and I feel well enough to head out again.”
Papyrus looked up at him, his mouth full of banana as he nodded.
“I want you to keep resting,” his brother said, giving him another piece.
Papyrus nodded again. “M’kay. Pa tired anyway.”
“Yeah,” Sans grinned sadly. “I know.”
Papyrus finished his banana, then drank a cup of warm water while Sans switched out the haversack for a warm pile of fabrics for a pillow. He cuddled up with Teddy as his brother tucked him in.
Sans put on his jacket, shoes, and the haversack, which was emptied of the items stuffing it. He wasn’t taking gems or compost because he wanted to make it a short trip. He felt bad for not having any mushrooms this time to donate, but he had intended on collecting them at the end of their excursion in the darkened area the day Papyrus was swept down the waterfall. He sighed, making a mental note to bring double the following week.
When he was set to leave, he leaned over the bed to nuzzle his brother, who had been watching him through half-closed lids.
“I’ll be back soon, Pap,” Sans whispered. “You rest.”
Papyrus nuzzled back, giving a murmur indicating that he would.
Sans stood back up and shifted his sights on Papyrus’ bear, looking him in the eyes as he raised an eyebrow.
“Teddy, you take care of him, ok? Make sure he doesn’t get out of bed, and protect him while I’m gone, all right?”
Papyrus giggled softly, burying his face in his soft teddy bear’s fur. Sans rubbed Teddy’s head, then his brother’s, with a grin.
Sans moved to the center of the room and turned back to face his brother.
“Love you,” he said, smiling warmly.
“Love you, too,” Papyrus answered softly, returning the smile.
Papyrus watched as Sans closed his eyes, took a step, and was engulfed by the large blue flame for an instant before the fire and Sans were gone.
-
Sans ran through the list of things they needed in his mind as he walked swiftly down the winding streets to the market, hoping to get what they needed quickly.
The streets of the city were filled with monsters rushing here and there, as usual. The breezes that trailed the passersby slipped into Sans’ pulled-up hood and down his shirt collar, sending shivers down his spine. He kept his head down, walking faster, eagerly looking forward to sipping more warm water by the fire when he returned.
The first shop he visited was the tailor’s. He perused through the fabrics in the hopes of getting a large piece to serve as a thick blanket. He had wanted to replace the scraps of fabric with a single covering for a while, and the recent events underscored their need for one.
However, the materials that would serve as a blanket were far more expensive than Sans had hoped. Although he had enough gold to purchase a piece of soft, thick fabric the size of their bed, the single cloth would cost more than four months of food. It would be nice to have it, but they were already making due with the scraps that they had, and food was more important than the luxury of one blanket.
He left the shop empty handed and slightly discouraged, but grateful that they were fortunate enough to have found the scraps that kept them warm when they easily could be sleeping with nothing but the clothes on their backs. With a sigh, he moved on.
Sans made his food purchases swiftly and was about to search for an empty alleyway to transport home, when he glanced at Ashen’s shop and hesitated. As much as he wanted to get back to the shelter, he really could benefit from a visit with his galline friend.
Ashen was sitting in her chair behind the counter—knitting as always—humming a soft, cheery tune. As Sans approached, she put her knitting in the basket he had made her and stood up to greet him.
“Why, hello, Sans!” she said happily.
The smile on his face faltered when he saw her—the grey hen was looking much thinner than the last time he had seen her. His voice caught in his throat for a moment.
“A-Ashen,” he breathed. “Are you...are you all right?”
She cocked her head in confusion, then realized why he seemed so worried.
“Oh!” she said with a small laugh. “Sans, I’m fine. I’m moulting right now, so I look a bit slim.”
Sans sighed with relief. “Ah, ok. Sorry, I just.... I was worried you might be sick or something.”
“No need to be sorry,” Ashen smiled as she looked down at herself. “I’ll only be this trim for a little while, then I’ll be back to my normal, filled-out self.”
She gave a shudder that made her reduced feathers ruffle as she twisted herself to look towards her tail, seeming to admire her temporary, slender figure.
As she turned back, she pulled her wing around, causing a slight gust that hit Sans softly, sending him into another shiver.
“Speaking of sick,” she said, her own face now the picture of concern. “Sans, are you feeling ok?”
Sans rubbed his upper arms and huddled slightly until the chill was gone, then straightened himself up, putting a grin on his face.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered. “It’s nothing.”
Ashen furrowed her brow worriedly, but didn’t pursue the matter.
They went on to chat about their weeks, their projects, and other such things. Sans omitted to tell her about what they had just gone through, especially since he hadn’t disclosed that he and his brother were living outside the cavern.
He purchased a pair of thick, fluffy red socks in Papyrus’ size before leaving, then the two friends bid their farewells.
-
Sans opened his eyes, having returned to the shelter. He smiled at the sight of his little brother in the bed, fast asleep, curled up with Teddy.
He put away the food, took out the socks and laid them at the foot of the bed, then warmed himself by the fire, sipping his warmed water. His trip to the cavern had been quite short, but he was still rather tired. He sighed as he looked into the magical flame, mesmerized by its undulating dance.
His eyes drifted down to the small bits of wood that fueled the fire, sighing again deeply—they didn’t have much left in their woodpile. For a moment, he thought about the numerous pieces of wood down on those mounds of refuse. There was enough wood there to last them for decades.
Thinking about that place caused his face to involuntarily contort in disgust. That place, with its vile stench, piles of decayed muck, and not a dry inch to be found.
Part of him hated that place for what it had done to them—to Papyrus. He would be happy never seeing that terrible place again.
But part of him knew that they could use the valuable wood. He could just pop down there, grab some, and be back in no time.
A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of the place. Of all that water. But the wood....
Honestly, if they were that desperate for wood, they could always destroy the torches for their lumber. But if any of the monsters left the cavern, returned down the path, and saw the missing torches, they would know someone else was in the valley. They might even send out the Royal Guard to search the area, leading them to find their shelter. They’d be found and split apart....
Sans ran his hand over his face in frustration. He didn’t know what to do—taking the wood from those wet depths would be safer, but he didn’t like the idea of calling the place that almost killed his brother safe.
He heaved a grumbling sigh. He didn’t want to think about this now. He was too angry at that place for what it did to Papyrus.
He shut his eyes and stifled a sob. He was too angry at himself, too.
Ever since they had returned, Sans had replayed what had happened over and over again in his mind. And the more the memory repeated, the more he saw how he failed to prevent it.
He knew the waterfalls and the edge were dangerous, that they emptied off into nothingness. Why didn’t he create a bone fence along the edge?! It would have caught his brother as he was swept down the waterway. The only reason Papyrus was still alive was because he landed in the water below. His brother could have fallen into a bottomless pit, or ground made entirely of rock. But he didn’t take the intelligent precautions necessary to stop his brother from falling over the edge. He’d created a fence before at the cavern hole. Why wasn’t he smart enough to have done it again?!
But Papyrus never would have fallen into the water if he hadn’t been startled. Why did he shout out at Papyrus like that?! Couldn’t he have said it quieter, instead of scaring his brother so he would tumble in?!
Why did he even take Papyrus to such a dangerous area?! As soon as he looked over the edge, he should have left that place immediately. Were cattails and gems worth risking his brother’s life?!
He wasn’t even near him when he fell—he had left Papyrus all by himself, surrounded by rushing, deep waters, close to the edge of a void, and he left him to go get the stupid cattails. He was supposed to take care of his brother, not leave him!
He was supposed to take care of his brother....
Take care of Papyrus.
His mother’s dying wish echoed in his mind.
What would she think if she saw what had happened to Papyrus since leaving them in the cave? How many times had his life been threatened? How many injuries had he sustained?
She would be so ashamed of Sans. She trusted him, and he let her down.
Sans clenched his teeth, furious with himself. He felt the hot tears coursing down his face as he leaned against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat in a heap, his knees against his chest. The cup fell out of his hand, the last bit of water spilling out onto the floor as he buried his face in his hands, weeping bitterly.
I’m so sorry, Mommy.... I let you down.... I’m so very sorry....
He should take Papyrus to the cavern. To the orphanage for smaller children.
He should take his brother to those who will actually take care of him.
He should have his brother torn from him, because that’s what he deserved.
He should have been a better brother. Papyrus deserved more.
He should—
Papyrus tossed and turned, waking at the sounds of his brother’s stifled cries. He was moaning slightly from his discomfort.
“Sas?” he called out. “You home?”
“Yeah, Pap,” Sans answered, raising his voice to a joyful tone. “Just drinking some water and warming by the fire. Be there in a moment.”
He couldn’t let Papyrus see him like this. It would upset him, adding to his failures as a brother. He took a handful of snow from the wall and scrubbed his face and eyes with it, erasing any signs that he had been crying. He dried his face with a bit of rough cloth, made sure all his tears were held back, put a grin on his face, then entered the main room.
He couldn’t look his brother in the eyes yet, so, instead, he focused on the socks at the foot of the bed.
“Look, Pap!” he exclaimed, holding them up as he stuffed down the fury at himself. “I got you something!”
Papyrus gasped softly, his eyes widening at the sight of the fluffy socks. “Wowie!”
Sans shut his eyes, hiding them in a grin. “They match your scarf! I’ll put them on!”
He slipped the socks on his brother’s bare feet, giving them a squeeze when he was done.
“Whaddya think?”
“Dey so soft!” he said, rubbing his feet against each other as he looked down at them where he lay. “Fanks, Sas! I love dem!”
“I’m glad,” Sans answered. “They’ll keep you nice and warm.”
“Dey feel like Teddy,” Papyrus grinned, giving his bear a loving nuzzle. “Teddy for my footsies!”
“And that’s not all,” Sans’ grin was becoming more genuine by the moment.
He headed over to the pantry shelf and pulled down a small pastry bag. He pulled out one of the contents to show his brother.
“Cookie!” Papyrus cried out happily. He would be jumping for joy had he been able to.
“Yup!” Sans replied, stuffing the cookie back in the bag. “I got you some for desert for the next few nights.”
The little skeleton gasped with joy at the thought of more than one cookie. Sans turned, putting the cookies back on the shelf.
“Sas, you da bestest bruver in da whole world!”
The words cut through Sans’ soul like a sharp knife. He was glad his back was to his brother, so he couldn’t see his face. He shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth, as livid arguments against that statement pierced his mind all at once.
No. I’m not. You deserve better. I upset you all the time. I can’t even take care of you. You’ve gone hungry because I couldn’t feed you. You nearly killed yourself over the falls because of me. You nearly froze to death because of me. You lost Mommy because of me. I’m the worst brother in the world.
You’re better off without me.
“No, Pap,” Sans said through clenched teeth, his voice low.
He turned around, his mouth upturned in a perfect, false grin.
“You’re the best brother in the whole world,” he continued with a wink, his voice light and happy, not at all betraying the bitter hatred for himself that was clawing at his chest.
Papyrus’ smile and little laugh were so warm, it made Sans’ charade all the more easier to keep up.
The winds outside the shelter curled small currents of snowflakes as they picked up in strength. Snow was falling steadier as a gentle snowsquall brewed.
The storm emerging out in the valley was nowhere near as tumultuous as the storm that was developing inside the skeleton within the little shelter.
#undertale#undertale fanfic#undertale fanfiction#sans#papyrus#sans and papyrus#sans undertale#papyrus undertale#babybones#skelebros#TBMP#TwoBrothersManyPaths#Two Brothers Many Paths
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
Fat Raphael cowboy for a request??
I'm actually really happy how this current batch of requests is coming out ajdbjsbsmsk. Like, I always have fun with them (or else I just wouldn't be here lmao though October's massive bunch of writing + work really made this blog feel like a chore back then) but in terms of quality and style, I do feel like I'm improving, which is a nice sensation! Especially after feeling my writing was awful for the longest time.
So, sorry about the lateness for these requests but I hope that their quality and length makes up for it! (Inb4 I start doing like 300 word drabbles again ajdnsjsbsb)
______________
"Ugh," His brand new clothes already tight on him once again, Raphael struggles to bring the fabric over the expansive Hill of his titanic breasts. Their swollen nature from milk building up in them does nothing to help Raphael, the fabric rubbing against his supple skin only teasing him.
His old clothes having quickly become snug in the short span of a few months, one month was all it took for these ones to begin nearing the end.
Such constant need for new clothes to fit his vast and ever growing frame, Raphael's wardrobe consists of white shirts and black shorts. The downgrade hadn't been his idea, but Raphael doesn't care much either way. Shelter and food secured, everything else is secondary.
Giving up, Raphael forgoes the impossible task of fully covering his wide gut. Instead, he sits back down, huffing as his wobbling knees finally get a rest. Shorts pinching his waist despite not even buttoning them, his noticeable muffin top is unimportant. The taut fabric spread far across his sizeable plush ass, it immediately tears upon sitting down, Raphael groaning.
Huffing, he simply rests his hands on his gut. Leaning back into the chair, he begins to rub his gut. Grimacing, the tightness in his breasts worsens. Half a day without a milking, his timespan of being able to go without one is only shortening.
No crest attached to his name, Raphael instead had magically spouted the features of a cow one day. Taking it in stride as always, he had simply moved on, his focus on ending the war and becoming a knight. Long floppy ears affixed to his head, and a tail stuck to his lower back, the strange new development was not just for show. A week into his random turn of events, his pecs had begun to constantly ache. With no one else to turn to, Raphael had gone to Byleth.
A couple of concerned inquiries, and discovering a strange wetness from Raphael's nipples, Byleth's test of milking Raphael proved to be exactly what he needed, his own discomfort completely gone.
Unable to milk himself, Raphael kept coming to Byleth for help, the shorter gentleman glad to help. Milk left over each session, it had been Raphael's idea to try it, no sense in letting it go to waste.
The strong yet simple taste pleasing to his palette, Raphael's endeavor to drink his own milk in hopes of building up his bones and muscles ended up doing the opposite. For as soon as it begun, Raphael's muscles eventually grew a small layer of pudge to cover them. Washboard and filling out to a gut, biceps turning flappy, rock hard pecs sagging, Raphael slowly but surely blimped out.
Drinking his own milk also had the side effect of increasing his need for being milked, Raphael's breasts in constant overdrive and churning. Addicted to the taste of his own milk, Raphael's endeavor to bulk up was unnecessary to him now. Constantly wanting more only led to Raphael getting fatter, and getting fatter only led to him producing milk at an even faster pace, Raphael's situation cyclical.
And with Raphael accepting Byleth's offer to stay in Garreg Mach with the war resolved, all things are taken care of for him.
Reaching up to his breasts, his ears flick as he moans, the milk in his breasts churning. Rubbing them, they bounce under his intense prodding, a bit of milk dripping out. His arms already tiring, Raphael rests them again on his stomach, groaning.
The door opening, Raphael sighs. "You made it," Attempting to fix his posture and sit up straight, Raphael slightly lifts himself up before sitting back down.
Except his forceful nature meant that he basically slammed down into the chair, Raphael breaking yet another one.
"Damn that always stings," Uncaring about the broken chair, Byleth's own nonchalant attitude had rubbed off on Raphael, Byleth always insisting it was fine and he could get him another one.
Byleth simply grinning, he grabs Raphael's bucket. Placing it against Raphael's gut, Byleth grabs his right breast and places the edge of it so that his nipple is at the top of the bucket. Leaning on Raphael for the bucket to not slip, Byleth and it sink into his flab, Raphael moaning upon Byleth touching him.
Focusing, Byleth places both hands on Raphael's breast, the meaty noon filling up both of his hands. Grabbing it, he places one hand lower, thumb near the nipple, and the second hand higher up. Squeezing, Byleth brings the higher up hand down, coercing a plentiful squirt of milk out. Raphael huffing, Byleth keeps at it, switching hands so that all his milk comes out.
Bucket quickly filling up, Byleth has to swap it out for another one, a bit of milk dribbling onto Raphael. A quarter of the second bucket ends up full, one of Raphael's breasts packed with so much milk.
Moving onto Raphael's left breast, Raphael's moaning and groaning from the release fills up the whole room, his huffing from a needed milking loud. Byleth holds back his grin as Raphael's breaths and words slowly deteriorate, Raphael sounding closer to the cow he is.
Byleth swapping buckets again, Raphael's deafening "moo," signals the end of his milking. Though not for the day, Raphael's breasts already beginning to produce more milk.
Byleth seizing one bucket, he lifts the heavy contents of it up to Raphael's mouth. Slowly tipping it over, Raphael begins to greedily guzzle his own milk, mind preoccupied with little else besides it, his growing massive figure irrelevant, walking already a struggle long ago.
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why Use Injection Molding
Injection Molding is a manufacturing procedure for creating parts in huge volume. It is most normally made use of in mass-production procedures where the exact same part is being created thousands or even countless times in sequence.
Benefits of Injection Molding:
The major benefit of injection molding is the ability to range production en masse. As soon as the preliminary expenses have actually been paid the cost per unit throughout injection built production is very reduced.
Injection Molding produces low scrap prices about conventional manufacturing procedures like CNC machining which cut away significant percentages of an original plastic block or sheet. This nevertheless can be an adverse about additive production procedures like 3D printing that have even lower scrap prices. Note: waste plastic from injection molding production usually comes consistently from 4 locations: the sprue, the joggers, eviction locations, and also any type of overflow material that leaks out of the component dental caries itself (a condition called "flash").
A sprue is merely the channel that guides molten plastic from the nozzle of the injection molding equipment to the entry factor for the whole injection mold tool. It is a different part from the mold tool itself. A runner is a system of channels that meet the sprue, typically within or as part of the mold tool, that overviews the molten plastic into the part tooth cavities within the mold device. There are two major categories of runners (cold and hot) which you can review below. The gateway is the part of the channel after the runner that leads straight right into the part cavity. After an injection mold cycle (normally just seconds long) the entirety of the molten plastic will certainly cool leaving solid plastic in the sprue, joggers, entrances, part cavities themselves, as well as a little of overflow possibly on the edges of the parts (if the seal isn't 100% right).
They grind up the sprues/runners and any deny components. They include that material back right into the raw material that goes right into the injection molding press. Typically regrind material is utilized for low-grade components that don't require high efficiency residential properties.
Injection Molding is really repeatable. That is, the second part you generate is going to be almost the same to the very first one etc. This is a terrific particular when attempting to produce brand name consistency as well as part reliability in high quantity production.Injection _ molding_plastic models style and engineering company
The Downside In Injection Molding:
Up front costs often tend to be really high due to style, testing, and also tooling demands. If you are going to generate parts in high volumes you want to make sure you get the layout right the very first time.
Designing and after that prototyping the component itself to requirements
First model advancement is generally finished on a 3D printer and often in a various product (such as ABS plastic) than the final part will be built inDesigning an injection mold tool for a first manufacturing round
Typically generating 300-1000 injection molded prototypes in the manufacturing product calls for the growth of an injection mold device.
Refining any type of and all information in the injection mold device prior to mass-production in an injection mold manufacturing plant.
Disadvantages of Injection Molding:
2 of the major disadvantages to injection molding are the high tooling costs as well as big needed preparation. Tooling is nearly a project per se and just one phase of the whole injection molding procedure. Prior to you can create an injection molded part you initially have to develop and also model a component (probably by means of CNC or 3D printing), after that you have to develop and prototype a mold device that can generate reproductions of the part in quantity. And commonly after comprehensive screening in both of the aforementioned stages, you obtain to injection mold a component. As you can picture, every one of the version needed to get the device appropriate before automation needs both time and money. It is uncommon that you would certainly prototype an injection molding device. It does take place though, particularly for parts that will certainly be made in a multi-cavity tool.
What Are Some of The Considerations For Injection Molding:
Prior to you seek to produce a part through injection molding take into consideration a few of the complying with things:
Financial Considerations
Entry Cost: Preparing an item for injection molded manufacturing needs a huge first financial investment. Make sure you recognize this crucial point up front.
Production Quantity
Establish the number of components generated at which injection molding becomes one of the most inexpensive technique of production
Identify the variety of parts generated at which you expect to recover cost on your investment (take into consideration the expenses of design, screening, manufacturing, assembly, advertising, and also distribution as well as the anticipated rate point to buy). Build in a conservative margin.
Style Considerations
Part Design: You wish to design the part from day one with injection molding in mind. Streamlining geometry as well as lessening the number of parts early will certainly pay dividends down the road.
Device Design: Make sure to make the mold tool to stop issues throughout production. For a list of 10 common injection molding issues and just how to repair or prevent them read here. Take into consideration entrance locations as well as run simulations making use of moldflow software application like Solidworks Plastics.
Manufacturing Considerations
Cycle Time: Minimize cycle time in as much as it is possible. Making use of machines with hot jogger technology will help as will certainly well-thought-out tooling. Small changes can make a large difference and also reducing a couple of seconds from your cycle time can convert right into large financial savings when you're producing countless components.
Assembly: Design your component to lessen assembly. Much of the factor injection molding is done in southeast Asia is the cost of constructing basic parts throughout an injection molding run. To the extent that you can develop assembly out of the process you will certainly conserve considerable money on the expense of labor.
Designing a part that's ideal for injection molding versus one that's ideal for machining, thermal developing, or 3D printing indicates taking into account a few of the differences in between the different fabrication strategies and also identifying when your project is much better matched to one or the various other. Common parts you might intend to injection mold include joints, braces, or housings. Many customer electronic tools are made with a plastic covering (real estate) that's injection molded as well as made use of for the body of the device.
One of the most obvious advantages to injection molding is that the housing offers numerous objectives. It offers as a deal with for the end user to engage with. It additionally functions as a receptacle for the battery and also electric motor as well the location of various screw bosses that will certainly be utilized to secure the device with each other once the inner components are set up. Simply put, injection molding is extremely efficient when you need to arrange a great deal of interior parts within a real estate. As a consequence, it's a great means to minimize the variety of complete parts (" piece matter"). Of note, this component is likewise an over-molded part.
Injection molding is wonderful for this kind of high volume manufacturing due to the fact that the high first prices pay the supplier back over time with low per unit costs. For this very same factor injection molding can be a poor choice for low quantity manufacturing. Additionally of note, there are some layout restrictions if making use of injection molding.
The part has almost consistent wall surface density (which is essential in order to stay clear of issues), and the part is made with a polycarbonate material (enabling for solid plastic stock to be continuously thawed for the procedure). If you were making a get rid of a thermoset material after that injection molding would certainly be more nuanced.
Attempting to melt a thermoset plastic a 2nd time will certainly lead to shedding the material. Similarly, a get rid of varied wall thickness would certainly call for even more attention in the mold device design to make certain uniform air conditioning and also to stay clear of problems during production.
Verdict
Injection molding is an excellent modern technology for completed manufacturing on a huge scale. It is likewise useful for finalized models that are utilized for customer and/or product screening. Before this late phase in production, however, 3D printing is far more budget-friendly as well as adaptable for items in the early stages of design.
1 note
·
View note
Text
00Q Kinktober - Day 7
Prompt List ; Ao3
Pairing: Bond x Q
Prompt: Sixty-Nine
Warnings: Smut, No Beta
Me: I need to get faster at these. Only 100-300 words of lead-up & 500-600 words of smut. No more auxiliary characters. Go.
Also Me: So let’s do nearly 700 words of unnecessary plot and make R lesbian.
Brain, why?
The next afternoon, Q is still doing his best not to show his subordinates just how sore his ass is. He’s not sure how successful he’s been able to hide it from R or Moneypenny; going by their smug looks, not much, so he just eyes them smugly right back. ‘Yes, my arse is sore,’ he hopes his looks covey, ‘but it was so worth it.’ Going by their eye-rolls, he thinks they get it.
Despite the distraction, he is able to complete 3 projects and assists 002 with breaching the security of her weapons-dealing mark. They gather enough intel that she’ll be returning to London in the next 48 hours. All-in-all, he thinks he deserves to be a little smug.
So of course that’s when Bond walks into Q branch. Damn. Q knew he was forgetting something.
He knows - he knows - that neither Bond or Alec consider these little liaisons as going steady. There has been no talk about exclusivity, they both still fuck during missions with or without honeypots. And that’s fine. Q isn’t one to be jealous - it’s a waste of productivity and energy. And he’s used to having multiple and infrequent partners. That’s what happens when you work with a governmental spy agency.
However, he also knows that the two blonds are quite good friends. And also know how to kill with their thumbs. When he started this he didn't know that they would keep coming back for this long; he hadn’t realized that he would need to tell them about each other. Honestly, he’d thought that after the first successful mission each, the agents would lose interest. But of course they can’t even follow their own usual patterns.
So this leaves Q standing at his platform station, hands planted on his sit-stand desk, as he faces a post-mission-high double-oh that wants a booty call while Q’s booty is off-the-table this time around. Q nods in Bond’s direction and cuts his eyes to the office-space he rarely uses since he prefers to stand among his subordinates.
Bond nods back and wanders into the small, separated space. R gives Q a glance over her tablet as she swings by his desk with a new cup of tea. Q signs and takes a sip of the tea. His voice is as dry as the desert when he speaks up, “Alert security if I’m not back out in 5?”
R snorts and rolls her eyes, “And have them walk in to you being buggered? No thanks, boss. You’ve got about 30 minutes until that meeting with HR.”
Oh, big buggering fuck. He forgot about that, too. Alec must have shorted out his brain last night. He hums and takes a bigger swing of his tea. “I suppose that’s another option.”
R sighs. Q isn’t sure how she makes it both exasperated and wistful. “If 002 ever fancies me back, you best be as understanding as I’m being right now.”
Q nods, “If you find yourself a lady worthy of your brilliance, you can always borrow my office.” He turns and winks at her before making his way to the office.
Inside, Bond is sitting on the futon that takes up a good third of the room while he looks at the lone Home Bargains art print on the opposing wall. He looks up and smirks as Q walks in and locks the door. “You know, not that I’m opposed to office sex, but I was planning on offering you dinner again.”
Q shrugs and crosses his arms, “I’ve 4 more hours, at least. No sense in you waiting. However, full disclosure, I’ve only 30 minutes and my arse isn’t an option at this time. I’m too sore.”
Bond’s eyebrows slowly rise higher on his face as Q speaks, but his smile never waivers. “Oh? Well, I hope it was at least worth it. Anyone I know?” He waggles said eyebrows, gesturing with his hand for Q to step closer.
Q steps until he’s only an arms reach away, humming. “Well, I have a type, you see. Something about blonds and muscles and men with licenses to kill.” He shrugs nonchalantly and loses the last of his nervous energy as Bond’s grin widens.
Bond lunges forward to wrap his palms gently at Q’s hips to drag him forward. “So, you’re Alec’s little kitten, hmm? He was singing your praises this morning.”
Q slides one of his knees between Bond’s thighs to rest it on the futon’s edge, draping his arms loosely on Bond’s shoulders. “Do you two always gossip about your conquests?”
Bond laughs and rubs his palms soothingly up Q’s back. “Only the good ones. And never enough to breach the virtues of their privacy. But, oh, the things we’re going to be talking about after this.” He suddenly reaches a hand up and grips Q’s curls in a tight grip, tugging him down enough for a kiss.
Q can’t help his startled moan as he opens up his mouth for the kiss, letting Bond control the depth as he keeps gripping and twisting at the strands in his hand. When he’s let up, he knows his eyes must be dazed and he can feel the flush in his cheeks and down his neck. “So, no concerns, then?”
Bond confirms with another kiss, this one lasting only long enough to make Q whine as Bond pulls back and angles Q’s head to kiss down his jaw and throat to bite against the fabric of Q’s shirt. “30 minutes?”
Q nods.
“Well, best make it worth it,” Bond winks and starks working on Q’s trouser buttons. Q gets with the program and begins to reciprocate, fighting with Bond’s buckle until it’s bested.
Cocks freed, Bond pulls two condoms from his suit jacket pocket and rips one open to put onto his own cock. At the same time, he shifts and settles until he’s laying sideways on the futon, pants sliding off and down his legs. Q begins following him but gets stopped by a palm on his hip. “Turn around, Q, let me see Alec’s hard work.”
Q blushes and his cock jumps as he fumbles putting the condom on. He lets his pants fall full to the ground, tripping out of his shoes to scramble onto the futon and swinging one leg to straddle Bond’s thighs, facing Bond’s feet. The man wears sock garters, the functional (non-functional) part of his brain thought as Bond’s previous words scrolled through the other half of his brain.
Bond puts his hands back to Q’s hips and arranges the man as he sees fit, to get a better look. He hums and draws one finger around a still- tender mark of Alec’s index on the back of Q’s thigh. “Oh, these will be beautiful bruises. It really is too bad that he didn’t take pictures like he had wanted to.”
Q’s traitorous cock jumps again. He had to curl into himself and let his hands drop to either side of Bond’s knees. “20 minutes.” Q fails at trying to sound unaffected.
Bond lets out an affected sad sigh. “We both best get to it, then.” And then in one motion he pulls Q’s hips closer to his head as he slides further down the futon to take Q’s cock in his mouth. It’s heat and the flutter of Bond’s tongue and the tapered rumble of his trapped laugh.
Q curses and takes a breath before he returns the favor and presses his mouth around Bond’s cock, sucking and working his tongue, trying to get his self-possession back by proving his skill. If Bond’s approving hum is any indication, he’s succeeding. Of course, that hum is accompanied by a controlled roll of Bond’s hip, making Q take more until Bond’s cock is being swallowed in the preservation of Q’s gag-reflex.
Q sucks and rolls his own hips, smacking at Bond’s thigh in reprimand as the older man presses a thumb into one of Q’s forming bruises just to make him jump. He can’t help but squirm, even with his dick held in Bond’s mouth. The other hand gripping and fondling his bullocks doesn't help. Q would try working on Bond’s, but to be honest he needs both wobbling arms to hold himself up.
Instead, he rises off until only Bond’s tip is still inside his mouth, takes a deep breath, and goes back down in three quick bobs, holding at the tip against just to repeat the pattern. The noises are slick and sound loud in the room. Q has a moment of concern about sound-proofing or lack thereof, but quickly forgets the concern as Bond does something with his tongue. Oh, maybe he could learn that.
The whole experience is a race to the finish-line and both parties cross nearly at the same time with matching thrusts and hot suction, faces messy and breathless. Q pulls back onto his knees and checks his watch.
4 minutes. “Fuck.”
0 notes
Text
So I’m writing an over all bigger fic where the pieces all kinda fit together and I have the links to my first chapter on both ao3 and fanfiction.net but I thought I’d share this little tidbit that I wrote up really quick on here because it isn’t super long and I’m not quite sure where it fits into the narrative yet lol but I kinda like it? It’s super rough with no real editing because I just had this itch to write it and just sort of went with my gut but I thought maybe others would enjoy it? Maybe?
So anyway this is written in third person, but the main focus is on Storage Rick (from Pocket Mortys) who lives with Cop Rick and Doofus Rick and is starting to have feelings for at least one of them. (the official Pocket Mortys twitter tweeted this and since it is supposed to be run by Storage Rick it got me thinking and I got this idea stuck in my head)
Word Count: 1,996
I am not good with titles so this doesn’t have one. Yet.
He couldn’t stop replaying that morning's events in his mind, even though they were nothing special or remarkable in any way, shape, or form. In fact that morning had been like every other morning he had gone to work, but he still had it fresh in his mind, on repeat. See, every time Storage actually decided to drag himself to the Morty Daycare, Doof would stop him before opening the portal.
“W-w-wait! Don’t-don’t forget this,” and he would clip Storage’s name badge onto his shirt for him with an extra little pat for security sake.
Rick Sanchez is not a man who just forgets things. He knew he needed the badge. He knew that every night he slapped the down on the dining room table and every night Cop clipped it on the key rack so he would be able to see it when he walked down the stairs past the front door. He knew he could just leave it in his locker at the daycare after his shift instead of doing any of that. It was all so pointless. Yet he found himself falling into the routine time and time again. Willingly. Almost with anticipation.
Storage waited for the sensation of light tugging on his shirt as put the clamp on the fabric, the pat on his chest, that big goofy smile with and stupid buck teeth sending a burst of oxytocin through his synapses, all the while he had to make sure he was rolling his eyes with a sour expression so his… aquintance? Wouldn’t notice. Then he’d play it up with a rude remark in a rushed tone.
“I’m capable of r-remembering something as simple as my badge.” There, that meant that as far as Doof knew, he was annoyed and bothered that he would even suggest that he could possibly be that forgetful, therefore discouraging him from performing the action again. Thank goodness he never listened.
“Oh! I-I packed you lunch as well.” Another non surprise, he made lunch for everyone that lived in that house everyday. He broke into another idoitic smile as he proudly presented a paper bag. “And I put some extra brownies in there, so don’t be afraid to-to share some with the M-mortys, okay?” Using his portal gun, he opened the portal to the Citadel of Ricks.
“Pssh,” he scoffed as he snatched the bag out of Doofus Rick’s hands. “As if I’d s-share with those little m-monsters.” Although he had just insulted Morty, that dingbat still managed to look so damn happy, which made Storage acutely aware of his rising heart rate. Doof even stifled a laugh before telling him, “Have a good day!”
He leaped through that portal just as he felt his cheeks beginning to flush. Yikes.
So in short, absolutely nothing special happened. Nothing remarkable, incredible, or amazing. But there he was anyway, stuck in that moment, thinking about his brown eyes, his overly chipper demeanor, his ridiculous bowl cut, his kindness, his moronic smile that was too-
“Rick?”
Storage glanced to his right to see a Morty, a rather well dressed Morty sitting criss cross applesauce on the counter staring at him, looking all smug.
“W-w-what? What the Hell do you want?” Ugh, in just a moment he was fully brought back to the reality of his day job, the smell of unwashed teenage boys and the uncomfortable closeness of the tightly packed building that was somehow supposed to hold over 300 brats.
“Just-just wondering what you’re thinking about,” he said in a mocking, cocky tone.
“Pushing you off my counter.”
“No you’re not,”
“Like you would- as though you could ever understand the things I think about Morty.”
“You have that look on your face Rick. That-that look that I get on my face when I think about Jessica.”
Of course at the sound of that name was met an astounding sigh of, “Ahh, Jessica” that spread across the room.
“I do not.” he snapped, turning so he was still looking out, away from the Daycare, but so Morty couldn’t look at him anymore.
“Y-you can deny it but I’ve seen my own face enough times to know!”
“At least you can read your own facial expressions Morty. Good to know you can read something.”
There. That ought to shut him up.
“So,” Damnit. Maybe not. “What’s her name?”
Storage grit his teeth. He noticed Morty scoot closer out of the corner of his eye. He tried to think about literally anything else, but when he sensed Morty’s hand moving toward him, he firmly grabbed his wrist before he got a chance to touch him. He made sure to give him the harshest stare down he could. But that Morty was either brave or stupid, Storage was betting on the latter, because he did not take the hint.
“I’ll just keep bothering you until you talk.”
Oh. So that’s what he wanted huh? Wanted Rick to open that big mouth of his and start talking? Well. If that was what he wanted.
“T-t-tell me M-Morty, what-what is it about Jessica you like so much?”
“W-w-well,” He wasn’t expecting that. “Uh, gee, I don’t know, w-what’s not to like? She’s really hot, and has red hair, and-and she has boobs.” Morty paused, clearly uncomfortable with the undivided attention he was receiving from Storage Rick, and began to sweat as he peeled his eyes away from his steely stare, looking behind him for any kind of support from, well, himself.
One Morty shrugged. “Aw geez, I-I don’t know! D-don’t look at me! You already mentioned her boobs.”
“They- they really are great boobs Rick, trust me,” another spoke.
“A hot redhead with nice tits, a good pair of jugs, some real bazongas, a piece of eye candy to jerk off to huh Morty?”
Ew, it was gross to hear a version of his grandpa put it that way. But he nodded, because as nasty as it was, he was right.
Unibrow raised, Rick prompted, “What else?”
“Um,” he wasn’t sure what to say. And apparently no other Morty did either.
“I thought you were in love with her Morty.”
“W-well I-I am, and-and one day we’ll get married and have kids-”
“Have you even had a conversation with this girl? With this Jessica?” He smiled, but not the dreamy peaceful one he had earlier, more of a vengeful smirk.
Morty squirmed. “W-well, n-no, not-not exactly-”
Rick laughed. “Y-you want to waste the rest of your life with her but all you know is she’s a banging chick with the name Jessica?” He continued laughing, and let go of Morty. “That’s nothing more than pinning, lust, and raging teenage hormones Morty. D-don’t waste my time with it.”
He expected that to be the end of the conversation, so he was a little perturbed when Morty, in his little blue suit, didn't move.
“B-but I do love her Rick.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Rick.”
“I’m tired of talking to you. Go play. Or masturbate. Whatever teenagers do. I don’t really give a shit.”
Not only did he not get down from the counter but he stood up to make himself tall and started yelling. “Y-y-you don’t- you can’t tell me how I feel! I know I love Jessica! Y-y-you don’t get to decide that for me just b-because you’re old and bitter and-and have never cared about anyone but yourself!”
Honestly, it was impressive, seeing Morty, literally stand up for himself, but that didn’t change Storage’s mind. He was right. Morty was wrong.
“Oh yeah! What a monster I am! Suggesting that you actually know something about the person you claim you want to be chained to forever. What are her hobbies? Her interests? Do you share similar tastes in movies? In books? W-w-what if she’s a bitch? As mean as they come, a real pain in the ass?”
“She’s not!”
“And you know that how? From easy dropping on her and her friends at school like some kind of creep? Like-like a stalker? She could be horrible! I-in fact everyone has horrible traits they try to hide all the time. W-w-what if she doesn’t recycle? Or-or is an anti-vaxxer? She could be a homophobic, racist, sexist ass Morty! What? Y-y-you think only men can be sexist? Have you ever been forced to talk to a conservative white woman before? That-that could be her Morty!”
His fists were balled up so tight his nails burrowed into his palms. “W-w-why do you have to think about it that way Rick? Always so-so negative, she could be perfect! I like to think that she’s sweet and kind with a big heart to match her breasts, and-and that she's smart and fun! She could be all of those things too Rick, did-did your big brain ever think of that? You-you factor that in genius?”
Storage grumbled. “Yes, of course I thought of that.” It was something he thought about a lot. How Doofus Rick wasn’t a doofus at all. He was just as smart and capable as any Rick but he found a way to stay kind and care for others in a way that most Ricks couldn’t or wouldn’t. Which brought him to his response, “What if she’s amazing and she doesn’t like you back?” Because why would he? Storage Rick was a mean, cantankerous, foul mouthed, grimy old timer who had started a screaming match with his almost grandson so he could avoid talking about his feelings. “W-w-why drag you around if she's out of your league?”
Well, that accomplished two things, Morty was no longer on the counter and he had stopped talking, but only because he was crying. He really hadn’t considered anything Rick was talking about, he thought , adults did it all romance was so easy, adults did it all the time. He was supposed to marry his high school crush and live happily ever after, wasn’t he? So simple, cut, and dry.
Instead of feeling victorious, Rick just felt like an ass. He didn’t want to make Morty upset, he just wanted to make him drop the topic. And get his ass off the counter. It was as though he could hear Doof’s nagging already. Oh please be nice to Morty! H-he’s just a kid Storage, be gentle with him. With a groan he used one foot to pivot so he was facing the inside of the daycare building. “Wait, Morty,”
“Which one?”
“Me?”
“No! Clearly not you, the one all dressed up with nowhere to go. The hopeless romantic.” He waited a second, but Morty didn’t turn around. “There is another possibility,” he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “It’s possible that you both end up really liking each other and end up getting married and junk.”
Using the sleeve of his jacket, Morty wiped his eyes and glanced back toward Storage Rick. “R-really?”
“Yeah. Anything is possible, Morty.” Then he wasn’t expecting to be rushed into with a hug, he let it linger for a moment before voicing his disdain. “D-don’t fucking touch me, get-get off.” And he got an idea. “Say, I’ll give you a few flurbos and let you run over to Salesman Rick’s.”
His little face lit up as Rick handed him the money.
“Now I’ve heard that he has ice cream.” He stated as he lifted Morty up and over the counter and out of the daycare. “Why not try and get some? Make sure and tell him Storage Rick sent you.”
“Wow, t-thanks Rick!” As he watched him run off, he heard the gaggle of Mortys behind him discussing whether or not he would be triumphant. Spoiler? He wouldn’t be. And Salesman Rick was going to be rather testy.
One particularly scruffy Morty whined. “Rick, he never has ice cream. When will you stop sending us on this wild goose chase?”
“When it stops being funny.” Hm. Maybe he would have to share his brownies after all to make up for the trouble he caused.
#rick and morty fanfiction#storage rick#doofus rick#rickcest#well kinda...#morty smith#sorry about my garbage!!
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
This Ain’t a Love Song - Part Seven - Nixxi Sixx Fan Fiction
Words: 2664
Warnings: Language, alcol, drugs, soft smut
N/A: I’m really sorry for the delay, I finally moved and it has been really hard to find time to write something decent. I let you read now, as always taglist is open and feedbacks are really appreciated. xx
Huge thanks to @blonde-shamrock
Summary:
Maya Prescott has done anything possible to fix her life. It was 1977 when she left her groupie life: no more parties, no more concerts, no more drugs, alcohol or casual sex, just to achieve a full standard life. Now it’s 1981 and after a four years disappearance Maya Prescott unexpectedly shows up to the party of one of the most promising emerging bands of the LA’s rock’n roll scene: Motley Crue. But what should be her last ride is destined to change her life in so many unexpected ways.
TagList: @motleycrueee @babygal-babygal@unknownoblivion @sweetshutter
Masterlist
Maya’s POV
I was awakened by a gentle touch at the height of my hips. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening; in a tangle of sheets and legs I noticed I was almost completely lying on Nikki. Still asleep and not very alert, I went along with his movement, trying to move me back to my side of the bed.
“Sorry…” I yawned passing a hand over my eyes.
“No stay here, I just had your elbow stuck in my ribcage…” the bassist explained to me and kept me from going further.
“I am not a spoon-cuddler, especially after a night of just sleeping,” I muttered looking for a semblance of personal space. I went back to give him my shoulders ready to go back to sleep.
“Let’s fuck then, so that we can cuddle and keep being socially acceptable.” I felt his fingers gently trace the profile of my spine, then climb up my side to the edge of my thong. That simple touch was enough to shake my self-control, in an instant I found myself imagining what it would be like to feel his hands wandering fearlessly over my naked body.
I turned my head just enough to see his profile beyond my shoulder; he must had taken my look as an invitation to go on because he moved my dark hair to get better access to my skin and start depositing kisses on my shoulder.
His hand had risen up to my belly to hold me and to intensify the contact between our bodies. Now my imagination was sailing towards not-so-chaste thoughts. He suddenly let go allowing me to turn around and to find him on top of me, with a triumphant smile, hair more messed up than usual. We rushed into one another lips and although the delicacy of that kiss was non-existent our bodies kept touching as if for one moment to the other one could break. My fingers were touching his neck, and through his skin I could feel his pulse accelerating. The part of me that wanted to stop him gave up at the exact moment when his fingers touched the subtle fabric of my underwear. A sigh was suffocated by the insistence of his mouth.
His fingertips were a sweet torture as they rubbed my clit on top of the fabric, I could feel my body tensing up already with impatience.
“You have no idea how damned you made me, Maya,” he murmured between a kiss whilst expertly shifting the fabric just enough to gain access to my centre. One of his fingers slipped into me and started to move in a slow peace. He had stopped kissing me, and was now just watching my lips part as he added another finger.
I could not formulate a response in that moment, I was afraid that me saying something would have brought me back to reality, because even though I wanted him now so fucking bad, I knew that by the moment I walked out of that door I would have regretted it for the rest of my life. I pulled up a little bit just enough to allow our mouths to engage in a rough, messy kiss, lasting only a few instants before he got back kissing my neck.
His bites made me silently moan while my hands reached for his erection to massage it following the rhythm dictated from his fingers.
“I want you to fuck me Nikki…” I was finally able to say. He bit me again with a hoarse groan, causing me a sweet pain I would be cursing him for over the next couple days. His fingers slipped out of me.
“I was only waiting for you to ask me, babe,” he said getting up to pull away my thong in a haste. He leaned back on me and while kissing me softly he entered in me, in the same exact moment in which Tommy decided to join us in the room.
“Sixx do you kn… oh shit. sorry. Sorry! I… I haven’t seen anything, I swear!” Tommy started rambling covering his eyes with a hand.
“Shit,” I exclaimed grabbing the covers to hide my modesty, sliding away from the bassist.
“What the fuck! What part of knocking is not clear?!” Nikki looked really mad.
“Sorry sorry sorry!” Tommy literally ran out the door, and probably went away to hide, leaving us alone again in an embarrassing silence. We stayed there, lying on our backs for a few seconds, avoiding each other’s eyes. Finally, I found the strength to get up and look for my stuff.
“Wait are you going for real?” Nikki asked pointing his elbows on the mattress.
“Well, the atmosphere is gone and plus you caught me in a moment of weakness, so…” I avoided his gaze finding my dress on the ground.
“So you’re just going to leave me here with a boner?” he asked, finally I turned to look at him. A little grin appeared on my lips.
“When you’re done jerking off, I’ll be in the kitchen with some coffee.” And as I said so I left the room.
*one week later*
I was singing along to Rick Springfield’s Jessie’s girl while organizing some new records that had been delivered that same morning. I had been working as a salesgirl at Remington Records for two years now and I considered it as my main job. It was a small music shop just a few blocks away from the Sunset Boulevard. Music was always playing out loud, the walls cluttered with signed pictures of bands that were yet to be discovered - Peter, the owner, collected ‘em in the hope of them gaining popularity, but by now he could count the ones who made it on just one hand.
Peter Remington Jr had inherited the shop from his father, and now he was patiently waiting for his son Jude to give up his dreams on a music career to go on with the family business.
“Do you need help, May?” Jude emerged from the back, walking towards me. He was the kind of guy every girl dreamed of, even with his feathered hair and chipped black nail polish he seemed like the classic boy next door. He could try to look as punk as he would but he looked too pure to be a rockstar.
“No honey I’m almost done,” I assured him while setting up the last records.
“Ya know my band is going to play at a party on Friday I was wondering if you wanted to come see us…” he queried. My eyes rose from the box to him.
“I would love to honey, but this weekend Mia will be with me, and ya know…” I lifted the empty box walking towards the counter. “Maybe next time,” I assured trying to hide the fact that it probably wasn’t gonna happen. It’s not that I didn’t support his dreams. I just wasn’t interested in following around a cover band whom members were pretty much only trying to gain popularity in order to fuck chicks was not my thing. You could hear the lack of passion in their performances; they didn’t care about their music, they were not able to weigh the lyrics and to give you an experience. Order Rythm… what a shitty name. Just as Mick would say: shitty name a hundred per cent of the time shitty band.
“Oh right, how is she doing?”
“She is doing great. She’s growing up so fast and she’s…” I was interrupted by the ring of the phone.
“Remington Records, Maya speaking, how can I help you?” I answered picking up the receiver.
“Oh Maya finally! I looked for you everywhere…” it was Ruby, my colleague at the club..
“Hi honey, what’s up?” I could hear an infomercial about slimming pants in the background.
“Yeah you know that I had booked this photoshoot for my book something like two months ago? Well the photographer is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G, but I can’t really go. I was wondering if you were interested in taking my place.” I had spent the past weeks looking for a photographer on a budget without success.
“Uhm I would say yes but how much is that?” I asked. I was not willing to waste my savings for a photoshoot with a guy I didn’t even knew.
“Uhm I believe it is 600 but I already paid half of it, so you’ll have to pay 300 and give the rest to me whenever you have it.”
“I don’t know Ru, you know I’m trying to save up some.”
“Oh c’mon I’m gonna lose ‘em anyways so you don’t have to pay me right away.” A few seconds of silence followed, I was weighing up the pros and cons of the offer.
“Well… I guess I can do it. But I’ not gonna pay you if the photos sucks, deal?” If I was going to spend a whole month of rent on pictures they better be worth it.
“Deal!” she exclaimed, “Did I already tell you how much I love you?”
“It will never be enough. I gotta go, see you tonight Ru.”
*later that same night*
“Did you forgot to put on pants, sweetheart?” Vince’s voice joined me as soon as I climbed over the window, he jokingly gave me a glare of disapproval. I looked down at my micro-shorts: they were black denim with some cool leather fringes on the sides.
“Why? It would be such a shame not to show this nice booty.” I replied getting closer to him to kiss his cheek. His arm embraced my hip.
“How you doin?” he questioned, while I fixed his blonde Barbie hair behind his ear. I looked around at the party guests - as usual a ton of people was hanging in the living room.
“I’m doing great… Is that David Lee Roth?” My attention was caught by the singer who was sitting on a couch with a plate full of rails.
“It seems like everybody wants to party with us, isn’t it cool?” I nodded in response.
“Do you think he would mind if I ask him to sign my ass?” I questioned; Vince leaned back to admire my lower back once again.
“I believe it is worth a signature,” he agreed.
“Well then I’ll go get my autograph, but first lemme find Tommy, he has some stuff for me,” I grinned caressing Vince’s fluffy hair one more time before leaving. I walked through the crowded room looking for the drummer. I grabbed a beer on the way, waving at some people I knew. After wandering around the small apartment for what felt like an eternity, asking people for Tommy, a guy directed me towards Vinnie and Tommy’s room, where he was supposed to be with some chick he had met. I knocked on the door one or two times and then opened it since there was no response.
Bad choice.
“Fuck, we said we’re busy here!” a girl screamed stopping but not moving from her position, she sounded pretty mad. Laying on Tommy’s bed, underneath the red-haired girl wasn’t Tommy, instead it was Nikki.
“Shit.. I’m sorry I didn’t know” I apologized looking at the two of them. Nikki lifted his hand waving at me in a sort of awkward and embarrassed salutation, his pants pulled down to his ankles. I lifted my hand as well. “Well, sorry for interrupting, ehm… have fun,” I muttered awkwardly, closing the door behind me. Okay that was weird. I didn’t even have the time to process what had just happened as Tommy decided to show up right behind me. Fuck him.
“Where the fuck was you? I might have just experienced one of the most traumatizing moments in my entire life.”
“Oh you mean Scarlet?” Tommy let a hand go through his hair trying not to seem so amused, “That girl is wild isn’t she?” I gave him a hard look.
“I’m not interested in knowing what that girl does in bed. I’m more interested in the special snow you promised me.” I switched subject for the sake of my mental stability.
The drummer puffed sliding a hand in his pocket “Well May-May you know I always keep my promises.” He handed me a bag full of white dust.
“Is this for real?” I asked over excited while opening it and picking up some with my red painted nail. Tommy nodded looking at me while I snorted the little quantity of dust, the party was about to begin.
Nikki’s POV
I pulled up my black jeans looking at the lady that was now resting on Tommy’s bed. I couldn’t remember her name but for sure I would have remembered that she wasn’t the girl for me. Her experience and extravagance was not enough to compensate the desire to shut her up every time one of her annoyingly high pitched moans - that seemed fake as fuck- left her lips.
I fastened my belt and left the room without saying a word. Vince was right behind the door waiting for his turn.
“Third ride?” My question made him giggle like a three year old who had got caught doing something bad. He sneaked in letting me out. I fixed my hair walking calmly towards the party. Some girls were dancing to Bringin’ on the Heartbreak by Def Leppard. I looked around for some booze only being able to find a half empty beer.
An easily recognizable laugh burst through the room, mixing pleasantly with the music “Oh c’mon let me go!” I turned looking for the girl that lately was the object of my desire. Tommy was holding her wrists pulling her on the couch with him while she was playfully trying to escape. She stumbled giving up on her attempt and landing straight on the drummer’s lap.
“Oh shut up, stop it!” I moved joining the duo, taking a sip of my almost empty bottle.
Tommy stopped tickling Maya’s sides as soon as I reached ‘em.
“Oh look who is gracing us with his presence,” she greeted me fixing her leopard blouse – one sleeve had slipped down her shoulder.
“That quickie lasted a little too long, Vince was so impatient waiting for you to come out,” Tommy added letting her free.
I shrugged “It’s not my fault, she wouldn’t shut her mouth… plus she…” My explanation was interrupted by Maya.
“For how much I would like to hear about your sexual encounter, I’m gonna go,” she announced lifting a black denim jacket from under Tommy’s butt.
“C’mon May-May I told we’re going but later!” The drummer protested causing her to back off a little in order to escape from his hold.
“It’s so early, are you really going home?” It was barely one in the morning.
“I’m not going home, I just wanna buy some booze down the street, there’s nothing to drink around here.” She wore her jacket ready to leave.
“You CAN’T go outside like that all alone.” Tommy glared at her shorts.
Maya rolled her eyes “Said my father…” She was not going to give up. She was so fucking stubborn it was almost annoying.
“I’m going with her,” I volunteered finishing my beer. Her pretty pouty face suddenly lit up in a smile.
“Chivalry isn’t dead after all… Let’s go.” And with that she made her way to the window.
I followed her not knowing that the 20-minute walk was going to be more interesting than the party itself.
#Motley Crue#motley crue fanfic#motley crue fanfiction#nikki sixx fanfiction#douglas booth! nikki sixx#nikki sixx imagine#nikki sixx#vince neil imagine#vince neil fanfiction#Vince Neil#Tommy Lee#tommy lee fanfiction#tommy lee imagine#motley crue imagine#mick mars fanfic#Mick Mars#mick mars imagine
35 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
infiniteko
Koda/Bhasundara • 1 of 7 • new: @infiniteletters
everybodyloveshajime
Everybody Loves Hajime - PREORDERS CLOSED!
graceofarobotnik-blog
The newest Robotnik
breathless-studies
Breathless Studies
cprgirl03
cpr girl03