#but also this drawing is killing me is practically done BUT I CANT GET HER ONE ARM TO LOOK RIGHT REEEE
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hhHHHHhh
#ryuunart#wips#nyx#hades game#night mom been on the mind a lot lately#but also this drawing is killing me is practically done BUT I CANT GET HER ONE ARM TO LOOK RIGHT REEEE
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Okay but Fire spending his time strengthening friendships in other clans and maybe bringing them a tad closer kind of fits with the whole plot of PO3 in a way. Like he’s bringing them closer, a figurehead for changing times. When the clans figure out that his grand children have the powers to literally save them all? He’s a legend. (And I mean his daughters both being pretty popular and trusted cats especially Squilf who was on the journey)
The three trust in Firestar as everyone else does so when he dies in some mysterious patrol, his chest ripped apart in a show of silencing the biggest bargainer of new ideas the clans have ever had? It’s a act of war and the clans grow tenser. Slowly worse things start to happen to the fire fam, the secrets revealed, Leaf steps down, Squirrel is practically reduced to a outside inside camp by her mate, and then Holly kills one of their own clanmates! It’s all hell. Only for her to disappear after threatening to kill Leaf who they know so their mother. When Jay learns the only way they’ll be able to defeat the supernatural forces threatening to destroy them is to team up as one clan instead of four he’s distraught. The clans can barley get through a gathering for the stars sake how could they ever join together!
But the one thing that stayed true is the force of cats across the clans that Firestar had made such big impacts on they’d never leave his name to die. With their activism and cries to get it together the clans join together to defeat the cats. Firestar would still be the fourth cat but not in some prophetic way. He’s apart of saving the clans bc of the marks he left on them to really grow and stop fighting over petty nonsense. Maybe some new law would be made that shows of his name like “Bonds in Fire” that is set so when a real danger faces the clans they don’t just let one of them die out, which would draw super well into the next arc where his grandson Alder brings back the clan who was lost bc of a lack of trust.
Last note I think Fire dying early really makes his impact hit a lot more instead of how it was done in PO3 where he just dies in the end? I think he’d die like maybe two books before the great battle or if you squished OOTS and PO3 together he’d die by the fourth.
Gahhhhh, you're right that WOULD be so much stronger. Especially the mystery angle of it; who killed Firestar? His deputy Brackenfur would have been taken out shortly before, as well, since Bracken is going to be the deputy from the end of TNP up to OotS. ThunderClan desperately trying to find out, Bramblestar being a new leader and causing division in the clan...
And the metaphorical aspect of it all. That he was the fourth, not physically, but spiritually. That Fire Alone saved the clans, one last time, cementing the permanent change in Clan Culture.
(Scene of Jayfeather screaming, crying, begging for a new prophecy and they tell him "Fire Alone Will Save T--" "YOU CANT EVEN GIVE ME A NEW ONE?? YOURE NOT EVEN ALIVE YOU HAVE THE TIME TO CHANGE THE WORDING A LITTLE")
Though I will veto the Bonds in Fire idea; only because I have hard plans to make the "Law of the Lake" an addition to the code in AVoS! That's going to be what they build to, it forms after SkyClan rejoins. The last bit of waffling they have before making it official.
(I also want to explicitly base it off of a Tribe philosophy, something the Clans have been slowly adopting.)
Other stuff I'd have to change...
Brackenfur would need a new death.
I was going to kill him in the Great Battle, and have Firestar name Bramble as his deputy with his dying breath, but he would need to die before him to set up Bramblestar. Bramblestar must happen.
I would have to delete a cool fight idea I had for Tiger vs Fire
I was gonna have a big reference to Fire's TPB fighting style. Tigerstar breaks his neck with a sickening crunch. He drops to the ground, limp, and Tigerstar laughs in triumph
The clans are horrified, someone screams, but Graystripe is unbothered. "How quick Tigerstar is to forget," he muses, as a starry figure rises from the broken body, "Firestar's favorite move is playing dead."
(cut to a picture of me wildly smashing two littlest pet shop figures together)
I'd also need to figure out how Firestar actually dies...
Because that is a plot point I can't leave without an answer. Who killed him? Who was even capable of killing him? I do have Sol I can use (a dude who is getting a massive buff), I could have a Dark Forest trainee stalk him (hmm... Breezepelt?)
POWER OF THREE HARD
I WILL CONSIDER THIS.
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H, I, Y and Z for your letters 🤠
G my beloved I knew you’d come to rescue me in my eleventh hour… i’d kiss u on the mouth about it but I don’t want you covid-stricken (again) 😔
H: How would you describe your style?
LMAO of course you hit me with the question I always have a hard time answering right out of the gate. bitch (affectionate).
girl I don’t knowwwwwwww
I don’t intend for all of my stories to be as angsty and dramatic as they end up being, but I really gravitate toward writing really emotionally charged stories. I’d consider them fairly accessible though, (which I take a teeeeensy amount of pride in) because I feel like not getting too purple or too descriptive makes it easier to reign in a wider group of readers who, like myself, might find that distracting or boring. it definitely may bite me in the ass at some point, but as long as I have their attention and their emotion invested in the story, I find I can sort of ~get away~ with not needing to be as descriptive as others. not that I don’t get descriptive or purple at any point, but I’ve found a good balance with the set up and execution of my funky little plot points—I almost always have some sort of heavy build before you get that emotional payoff, but I’d like to think it’s worth it for the reader 😵💫
also I’m a big third person limited girlie. I pick a blorbo and we go on their funky little nightmarish adventure with them
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
oh man yeah I don’t currently have any guilty pleasures since I haven’t been reading too much fic recently (I mean it when I say I’m fucking picky) but an old guilty pleasure for SURE (and for some fandoms, still is) is accidental pregnancy fics LMAO (girl don’t you say shit). of course since that’s a nightmare in any twilight scenario that I’d ever care to read about that’s nothing I would ever read in twilight (or employ for writing purposes either) but for a lot of my old ships… whew boy… that’s some spicy drama… I cant get enough lmfaooo 🫣
Y: A character you want to protect.
I’m part of the gaara defense squad in naruto. like fuck off leave my boy alone he’s been through enough (you’ll never see me putting him through it in fics on my LIFE you won’t). but as for twilight? I don’t typically feel the need to protect any of them (I literally put my favs fucking Through It constantly) but I will happily join/create the tanya defense squad. lord knows she needs some protection from the rabid edbellas that villainize her in 93% of all fic (don’t anybody @ me about this. I’m right)
Z: Major character death—do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can't tolerate?
as someone who HAS written a major character death in a large story (sorry changing skies readers, but it had to be done) I would only employ it if the story absolutely called for it. I hate reading a story with a plot that calls for a high death rate but the author just… spares all the mains (I’m glaring at you, duffer brothers) so it only makes sense to use it to keep things more “realistic” and to keep the stakes high. I’ve used it before and would I use it again? probably, yeah!
I do draw the line at killing off half of my ship. the main reason (or at least, 99% of the reason) that I read or write fic is for pairings. I am a shipper through and through and I am that PROUDLY, so the idea of just axing half of what I’m even reading or writing a story for is just… utterly unappealing to me. I’m here for their journey. and sure, sometimes those journeys don’t end “well” but it’s so intensely rare that I’ve ever read a story that kills half of the reason I’m reading that story in a satisfying way. (also if you come at me for “welcome to hell” don’t even bother. that was a practice in TRAGEDY you FOOLS)
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i REFUSE to believe that the ravenclaws did not have a drawing board in the common room to find out who the heir of slytherin is
it all started with a late-night conversation in the dorms
a 5th year ravenclaw was like “a lil sus that potter was there at the scene of the crime...aND THEN LAST YEAR HE ALLEGEDLY TOOK DOWN QUIRELL WHO WAS ACTUALLY VOLDEMORT??”
their ravenclaw friend goes “we should write this down”
notes spread out in the common room that lead to sharing theories
that lead to debates at 1 am on whether or not potter was innocent
a drunk ass ravenclaw who does some of their best work when drunk started drawing a timeline of events
the timeline kept getting added and added until they just decided to quit fucking around and realize that this was definitely serious (and definitely the plot of a best selling mystery novel that they want to be a part of) and they want answers
they become obsessed.
“dude were supposed to be studying for OWLs right now”
“IN A MINUTE BETHANY, I HAVE A FEELING THAT THE HEIR IS ACTUALLY FILCH”
the prefects dont do anything about it. in fact, they are quite invested
2nd years come in everyday with new information about harry
“OKOK HEAR ME OUT HE ‘ACCIDENTALLY’ PUT MILK BEFORE THE CHEERIOWLS AND WHEN WE CONFRONTED HIM ABOUT IT HE SAID HE WAS TIRED—
“but he could be tired from quidditch practice, wood is a bloody maniac about—
“MAYBE HE WAS OUT LATE KILLING PEOPLE”
some ravenclaws will get up in the middle of the night just to reorganize the board
“for merlins sake, USE THE BLUE MARKER PEOPLE! IT RUINS THE WHOLE AESTHETIC”
the yarn used has glitter in it and they charmed it to be glow in the dark
yes, they braided it into their hair
one evening a couple of kids come bursting in
“whats the matter?”
silence all around, the attention is on them
they get parchment. the crayola scented blue marker. the glitter yarn.
a couple seconds later they present the new information on the board
POTTER IS A PARSELMOUTH
SLYTHERIN’S EMBLEMATIC ANIMAL IS A SNAKE
SALAZAR WAS ALSO A PARSELMOUTH
“its official lads...” *drops marker*
common room freaks out
“OKAY MAYBE SLYTHERIN WONT COME AFTER US RIGHT??? I MEAN WE GET ALONG WELL”
“BUT POTTERS A GRYFFINDOR HOW WHY”
“b-but hes the boy wh-who defeated— oh no” *rocks back and forth in a corner
“LETS ALL JUST CHILL OUT ALRIGHT?? SHOULD WE TELL FLITWICK?”
“AND SNITCH?? WHEN DID WE TURN OUR BACKS ON WHO WE ARE”
“PEOPLE ARE DYING BETHANY”
flitwick finds out anyway and hes visually concerned
but also impressed... so he fills them in with more information
they relax, because when you think about it potter just has the worst luck in the entire world
they keep the drawing board and they would just stare at it. admire its beauty.
the ravenclaw purebloods and halfbloods make jokes now about the heir
“literally fml, i have no clue on how to do a protean charm and we have the practical tomorrowww can the heir just kill me already?”
muggleborn ravenclaws have to knock on wood everytime they try to joke
oliver isnt happy about this
another great day! classes are canceled, im kind of hungry right now maybe i can convince abbott to tell me where the— OH FUCK THERES A BODY AND A GHOST A BODY AND A GHOST
they dash to the common room and bring out the board
“were gonna need more yarn”
they seek help from madam pince asking questions “what kind of magic is involved that makes the petrified state only curable by a mandrake? when u petrify someone u can easily remove it with a finite...no no were trying to figure it out...madam pince please theres no need to get professor dumbledore involved—
all hell breaks loose when penelope clearwater gets petrified
“THAT DOES IT! ITS DEFINITELY A SLYTHERIN NO ONE IN SLYTHERINS BEEN PETRIFIED”
hagrid and dumbledore has left and the attacks have stopped...what the actual fu
they try to connect dumbledore and grindelwald to the attacks
some suspect draco malfoy, who seems awfully chipper about this whole thing
“malfoy? no way, takes some real serious wizard to do that stuff...he cant even transfigure the mouse into a pin cushion”
“what if hes faking that hes bad so no one would suspect him?”
they pick a fight with mcgonagoll when they find out exams are still going on
“PEOPLE ARE DYING MINER—im sorry professor mcgonagoll i didnt mean to shout”
OH NO THE GIRL WEASLEY DIED
“NO NO I AM DONE WITH THIS SCHOOL IM TRANSFERRING TO MAHOUTOKORO”
OH YES THE GIRL WEASLEY LIVED
DAMN POTTER SAVED HER?? lol no wonder she fancied him
instead of joining the party, they stay in the common room and try to piece everything together
some ravenclaws went out to ask harry questions but instead listened to ron who quite enjoyed the attention
they got the page, they got the story, and now were gonna a-beautiful-freaking-mind up in this bitch.
#ravenclaw#gryffindor#slytherin#hufflepuff#hogwarts#chamber of secrets#harry potter#cho chang#luna lovegood#ginevra weasley#ginny weasley#ronald weasley#oliver wood#incorrect hp quotes#hp headcanon#ravenclaw incorrect quotes#ravenclaw headcanons#ravenclaw pride
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okay so here is my little bullet point story for the httyd au lol, hope you guys like it
love amongst the dragons
this is a zuko centered au but the story actually begins with how sokka got foof
sokka and hiccup are one no one can change my mind
the swt hunts dragons because dragons hunt them, same thing as httyd
so basically the httyd storyline isn’t zuko’s story but sokka’s
he shoots foof (sprinkle of saber tooth moose lion mixed with night fury, mostly changing the size and teeth – foof would look almost exactly the same as toothless but is taller, has bigger legs, is bigger in general and well the saber tooth of course – also night furies aren’t extinct!)), not because he cant actually participate in the hunting, he’s perfectly allowed, but he creates these machines and people are like just use a spear like the rest of us lol
he shoots the saber tooth night fury down and no one believes him so he’s like “okay fuck it im gonna go find it”
he does indeed find him, foof is too cute, sokka instantly loses the battle, he doesn’t wanna fight dragons anyway
he keeps foof a secret until katara one day sees sokka sneaking away while she’s practicing water bending (the war doesn’t exist, there’s just problems in the fire nation – so the SWT is full of people)
katara is like sokka what the fuck are you doing
sokka cant lie to katara, he can charm anyone else but not katara,, sisters are charm proof
anyways events of httyd proceed to happen
sokka learns how to fly, learns stuff in general about dragons
katara is kinda like the astrid but she’s like confused at the beginning bc sokka’s getting too good at handling dragons and she’s sus
they both get good with dragons after that
until they find another dragon when they were flying around
a Very Large tm dragon
basically a water dragon, inspired by the unagi but from the south pole, it can leave the water but it prefers to live in the deep ocean
katara loves her, she starts “practicing” water bending at a special spot so one can find her, only sokka and her know where it is since they found it while flying
blah blah blah the swt proceeds to have a happy ending and everyone gets a dragon
the swt starts a life with dragons this time and they believe they are the only ones doing this (aside from the air nomads) (there is no war so aang is born 100 years later)
BACK TO ZUZU
Crown prince zuko and soon to be chief of the swt sokka are penpals, they’ve met eachother once or twice, sokka never tells him about the dragons
The fire nation has few dragons left
The fn is the birthplace of all dragons, but they have very little dragons now, they hunt them for fun
It is a ritual for the crown prince to kill a dragon and bring to the palace its heart
ozai is aware that there’s only one dragon left in their territory and the last dragon nest is weeks away
he sends zuko anyway and zuko goes, but he really doesn’t want to kill a dragon
he finds one, he goes through all that same stuff sokka (hiccup) went through with “he looked just as scared as I was” so he lets the dragon free, the dragon isn’t hurt so he can fly away but he doesn’t
he knows zuko won’t do anything to harm him so he stays with him
zuko doesn’t know wtf to do so he does what he knows always sets him in the right direction
he writes sokka a letter and tells him exactly what happens, about the dragon (his name is druk obviously) and how he doesn’t have any idea about what to do, he hopes sokka can reply as soon as possible and if he has time he can come to the fn and help him, he’s an engineer right? He can help him build stuff for druk, right??
He sends the hawk with the letter, knowing it’ll reach sokka in about week, since he’s farther south right now, so he expects sokka’s answer in two weeks
He most definitely is not expecting sokka to get there a week later riding a dragon the color of the night sky, you’d think the dragon was black if it wasn’t standing under the sunlight
Zuko hasn’t seen sokka in a few years, so he’s not exactly the same as he was back when they were still 19 (they’re 21 and 22 now)
Sokka isn’t expecting to see zuko with a supposedly extinct dragon when he gets there tho
He’s fascinated by druk (also zuko looks very pretty)
Sokka teaches zuko everything he knows about dragons, how to fly them, how to treat them, everything (they’re like little dates but they don’t mention that, they’re buddies tm)
Zuko comes back to the fn and he finds out that ozai is planning to wipe out the last nest, so zuko tries to stop him
And ozai lashes out so druk appears to protect him, and ozai is like oh bitch you’ve done it now and his little army is about to attack both zuko and druk when sokka and foof (both were hiding there in the palace) do a sneak attack and get them both out
Azula sees all of this from the shadows (this is important)
Zuko and sokka grab some stuff and leave the fn
They fly to the swt, zuko’s nervous about ozai’s plan but sokka knows that once they get home and set up a plan he’ll be okay
Once zuko lays eyes on the swt he goes holy fucking agni and sokka laughs so hard he almost falls off foof
The swt is built to house dragons and such, it really is a sight to see
They make a plan and basically go all out, the swt and the air nomads are good buddies, so aang is there with his cloud jumper (appa!!!!! Flying bisons exist but they’re like very important to the air nomads and people don’t ride them, they just vibe)
Aang is the avatar, so he has a deep connection with alpha dragons (the bewilderbeast)
They all make a plan, and they start flying to the fn, katara takes her big ass unagi like dragon, but she goes underwater with aang following her from the skies (they’re trying to find an alpha to ask for help)
They get to the nest before the troops, and stand their ground
It seems like they’re about to lose when katara appears with her dragon, the cloud jumper and aang in the avatar state on top of an alpha
The battle ends quickly after that and zuko and sokka are like !!! we did it and they share a sweet little kiss bc I say so (currently listening to coming back around and it’s making me emotional)
Azula appears after all this in sokka’s room (he’s staying at the fn palace for a bit to help the fn get adjusted to the new dragon rules) sokka hasn’t gotten the chance to talk to azula much, but he knows she isn’t opposed to dragons (or that is what it looks like)
His answer comes in the form of azula actually asking him for help, because she’s been hiding two dragon eggs for about two years
Sokka’s like!!!!!!!!!! Yes I can help!!!
She takes him to the eggs and he realizes that he hasn’t seen those types of eggs before but the coloring of the egg indicates that they are fire nation born dragons (they’re bright orange at the top and dark red at the bottom)
He asks if she found them near a volcano and azula’s like, hm yes but are you aware this palace is IN a volcano, and sokka’s like oh yeah right, and he tells her those are most likely dragons that live inside volcanoes and they like extremely hot temperatures so she should keep them near lava or with constant heat
Azula takes note of everything, and she starts going to sokka if she needs advice with her dragon eggs
Azula: how long until they hatch?
Sokka: you gotta wait, depending on the dragon they can take from 2 to 5 years to hatch
Azula: hm okay
Time passes, zukka dancing and singing to the dancing and the dreaming is all I need in life (will draw tomorrow)
Anyways yes sokka and zuko start living their best life riding their dragons under the moonlight and early in the mornings watching the sunset from between the clouds the end <3
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cant wait for lethal combination chapter 5! and loved the holiday nessian fic you wrote!
then you shan’t have to wait! and thank you so much, nonnie. the fic they’re talking about and all previous chapters of lethal combo can be found here, x
“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”
Nesta kept her gaze on the wall of oak opposite her.
“Is this the part where I tell you to get on your knees for me?” She asked.
Humourless.
And she could practically feel the feral rage radiating from him. Bleeding through the grate to her left like he were trying to smoke her out.
“This is the part where you-“
“Shhh.”
A lean shadow, a head of auburn hair, muted in the darkness like the decayed verdure of autumn, barely distinguishable through the latticed window no bigger than her hand.
She’d made Eris wait almost a day.
In Nesta’s experience teenage girls understood psychological warfare better than any CIA types she’d met. And rule one in the handbook was never call him back right away.
Eris might as well have been a cute boy from home room, the advice stood fast.
She’d also chosen the time and place for their meeting, giving no concessions in authority. Picking the church as unlike her he’d inherited both the egregious wealth of his family and their faith. Irish Catholic. Meaning he’d find himself here every Sunday evening regardless, and providing not only the guise of normality, but the cosy anonymity of a confessional.
The only people who did secrecy better than assassins, were the Catholics.
It was perfect really, the perfect plan. Undistracted Nesta had been able to work it out pretty quickly after Cassian had left. Leaving her all those hours between four in the morning and her meeting the following evening with nothing to do but hate him.
Avoiding returning to the bed he’d screwed her in. Glaring at his jacket which still hung beside her front door over a bottle of vodka.
It was a blow to her pride to be sure. The closest thing to rejection she’d ever received from a man. Whatsmore, some gooey part of her she’d pushed down had been upset.
Too worked up to sleep she’d spent hours tucked into her armchair and entertaining plucking his teeth from his mouth like the petals of a rose. He loves me, he loves me not. Because worse than revealing himself to be a complete ass as most men did, Cassian had done so subsequent to fucking her better than she could have dreamed. And she’d had that dream. Multiple times.
Wet dreams that couldn’t hold a candle to the way he’d had her dripping down to her knees, begging for his cock, trembling on legs he’d thrown over his shoulder to lick out her cunt like it was the reason he got out of bed in the morning. The man had spoilt her rotten.
Nesta knew she probably shouldn’t have been thinking about sex in a church. Her mother was likely burning with a fury hotter than the flames that surrounded her down below, but she couldn’t help it. Because while she hated the sinner- ever bronze buffed, tattooed inch of him - god did she love the sin.
“The adult is going to talk,” she said quietly. “If you want to throw a tantrum you can do it on your own time because as of this moment, I’m officially off the clock.”
Eris’ silence said he knew better than to interrupt her. Perhaps he was smarter than she was about to give him credit for.
“In fact I stopped working for you as of the moment you chose to question my methods and profess concerns that I may have jeopardised our venture because I lack the professionalism to keep my legs shut,” she said.
“So if you want Helion Day neutralised, you’re going to have to find someone else to do the job. Though I seriously doubt you’ll be able to.”
Cue phase two of the plan.
Because she may have hated Cassian, but she wanted the monopoly on causing him emotional anguish.
Like hell some other pro was going to put a bullet between Helion’s eyes and devastate his bodyguard. Making that man cry was Nesta’s prerogative.
“I have made it clear to anyone in my field you might attempt to solicit that you are a impertinent, trust fund brat, who insists on micromanaging the work of other’s despite your incompetence in an attempt to feel important beyond the breeding mummy lied and told you made you special.”
“I wasn’t aware you also specialised in character assassination.”
Eris’ voice was charred with a sweetness like wealth; earthy and rich it reminded Nesta of muscovado sugar.
He was right. She was being unprofessional. But she was tired and hungover and out of a gorgeous lay so fuck him.
“My specialities are no longer any of your business, Mr Vanserra,” she replied. “My displeasure however, should be of great concern to you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I wouldn’t do you the courtesy of warning you if I intended to kill you.”
Eris said nothing.
“You can consider it incentive if it helps you sleep at night though,” Nesta continued. “To do as you’re told.”
She gave him strict instructions. Wait five minutes then leave. Never contact me. Forget we were ever in correspondence in the first place.
“Murder is cheap, Mr Vanserra. You don’t want to learn the cost of disobeying me. It’s not the kind of thing daddy’s wallet can cover.”
She emerged from the confessional, slim shades obscuring her eyes and the deep bruises beneath. Her heels clipping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the station of votive candles at the back of the church.
Each glowing stick a prayer for a lost loved one. Matches and and a few unlit offerings still available.
She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.
And Nesta couldn’t have missed the fresco above those colossal doors of oak and rustic gold flake even through the plumes of smoke that curled upwards as she stalked lazily down the isle: a depiction of the Heavenly Father himself.
She didn’t bother flicking a glance behind her to the confessional.
Who’s your daddy, now?
-
She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.
They’d smelled like sex and heaven and she’d smelt like cigarettes and a church and that was all she knew before the exhaustion caught up with her, the world went black, and she was waking up in exactly the same position . Vex’s fluffy tail swishing against her ear. The tickling sensation plucking her from the bliss of pure nothingness.
Nesta groaned a little as she rolled over and pulled herself to sit up. Pleased to find she’d had the energy to take off her clothes. Unlike her makeup.
“Damn it,” she hissed as she saw the smudged mascara on the pillow.
Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway…
“Ugh,” she huffed, dropping flat onto her back again.
She’d been awake less then seven seconds and a man had already ruined her day. Just thinking about him…
“Ugh,” she said again, louder. Like she was angry with the ceiling for not acknowledging her the first time.
Vex meowed, his little head nudging at her bare arm. As though he were trying to coax her bra strap back up to a respectable position on her shoulder.
“Hi, baby,” she grumbled, picking him up for a cuddle. “You hungry?”
He meowed again.
Padding down to the kitchen she’d made them both breakfast (technically lunch, she’d slept in till almost one) and carrying her plate of fruit back upstairs to draw a bubble bath he winded between her ankles, catching her attention as he hissed at something in the living room.
“What?” she inquired, looking down at him before tilting her head to follow his own.
Cassian’s jacket.
Uhg.
Now she was thinking about him again.
Childish, dumb, insecure little prick. How he’d had the fucking nerve to call her a coward was truly a mystery.
He was so crippled by that fear of not being good enough he’d immediately presumed she wanted rid of him. Lashing out defensively- God he was infuriating.
She looked back to Vex who was now staring up at her. “If that thing somehow ends up on the floor,” she said, “you have permission to piss on it”.
He purred.
Vex truly was the only boy worth his salt. Something he proved yet again in hopping atop her bathroom counter and guarding her like a fluffy little gargoyle as she sank into the bath. Opening m the window to let out the smoke of her cigarette so as not to bother him. The sound of rain slipping something comforting through the January chill, twirls of smoke and steam visible in fatigued plumes.
Another lethal habit she’d picked up from Aunt Ripleigh.
The thought gave her an unpleasant feeling in her heart. Like a worm writhing in the rotted meat of an apple.
Ripleigh wasn’t actually her aunt. But Nesta avoided her much like she did the rest of her family and that was what really counted. Besides, spilling blood together arguably made for a closer bond than just sharing it.
Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.
Aunt Ripleigh – initials AR, an homage to the assassin’s preferred weapon the AR-47, American hybrid of the Russian Автома́т Кала́шников, A.K.A the AK-47.
Some mothers left their little girls pearls, or scrapbooks packed with baby pictures and the lingering scent of their perfume. Angelina Archeron had left her’s a Mafia assassin’s cell number.
Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.
Not until she’d found herself with her hands caked in something dark and sticky, her boyfriend’s skin stuffed beneath the lip of her nails and a taste in her mouth like hot rust.
She’d been seventeen the first time she’d killed a man.
Not a man. A boy.
A few months her senior, Thomas been a child just like her.
Her first crush. Her first boyfriend, her first love, and her first.
Nesta had known Thomas was using her for sex. Just as she’d been using him for his money, and wasn’t that what love was? Finding the gratification of your needs in someone else? In Thomas’s case he’d needed to get his dick wet. In Nesta’s…it was more than embarrassing but half the time all she’d needed was a hot meal.
She couldn’t count the number of times she’d called him in the dead of the night to hook up in his Porsche so she could sleep there instead of at home, where the windows screamed freezing air from their shattered mouths and the electricity bill was rarely paid.
But one night Nesta hadn’t felt like earning his kindness. And so he hadn’t offered it.
Instead he’d held her wrists, ripped at her shirt, forced his hands into her jeans. Pushed up against the bonnet of that Porsche by a lake in woods she’d torn through his face, her nails splitting through the waterline beneath his eyes as she’d kicked and screamed, blood pouring, his hand on her neck, throwing her head against the wing mirror. Heat spilling heavy down her jaw and neck from somewhere which had smelt like lose change.
She remembers blood in her eyes and the taste of soft, smooth skin and a kind of rubbery strength between her teeth as she’d bit down hard until something had popped or burst or split with a squirt or a tear. She remembers spitting out whatever of Thomas’s ear she’d torn off between her teeth and something swinging into her lower ribs so hard one broke. She remembers the sounds that had been both of them and then at some point just her.
Her screaming.
Her sticky, disgusting face, stinging with every horribly wet sob and shriek. The shrieks that hadn’t choked to shaky breaths until she’d pulled herself to sit back against the wheel of the car. Clutching at her ribs which had only hurt so much worse when she’d thrown up right next to her boyfriend’s body. What looked like a pint of blood glowing in the dust. His face…his head.
It’d looked like a Halloween prop. Like dark jam. Like a brutalised seventeen year old dead in the dirt.
And sometime after noticing one of his teeth in the dust, Nesta had realised how fucked she was.
It wasn’t much of an achievement when you considered Grafton, Vermont had a population short of seven-hundred: but the Mandrays had been quite possibly the most well connected and well off people in its less than seven-hundred square miles. And despite keeping Nesta’s name out of their sneering mouths through referring to her almost exclusively as “that white-trash bitch”, that population short of seven hundred didn’t give a shit about her.
Didn’t give a shit she’d been top of her class with a place at Georgetown. Because Nesta could never have afforded to accept it.
And it certainly didn’t matter she was a pageant queen when everyone knew the petty cash prizes were the only thing that paid the rent on their shitty one bedroom. Especially with things barely breaking even. In spite of Feyre’s making use of their father’s rifle and sourcing for the butcher any chance she could.
A too skinny child in the woods with a gun and blood in her braids.
Nesta’s efforts to keep food on the table had always seemed to pale in comparison to that. But she’d never felt bad about it. Wouldn’t bother hating herself when everybody else was already doing that for her.
Nesta Archeron was the cheap fuck that nice Mandray boy was messing around with. The gold digger with the dead commie mom and daddy issues.
No one would have ever believed he’d tried to rape her.
And she’d had no money for a decent lawyer- she hadn’t even had anyone to call. Not her dad, not a fourteen-year old Feyre nor Elain, sixteen and the last person she’d ever want wrapped up in something like this.
Nesta had been desperate and vulnerable and jaded for as long as she could remember but she’d never felt as terrified and broken as she had in that moment. Crying alone and hugging herself tightly, she’d just wanted her mom. As cold and neglectful and dead as the woman was.
“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь”
Her mother’s last words.
Ten numbers.
Nesta had somehow gotten to her feet, only realising Thomas had broken a few of her fingers when she’d tried opening the car door. All but collapsing inside once she’d managed as she’d fumbled for her phone.
“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” she’d repeated to herself, voice hoarse and wet and cracking as she’d dialled.
Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.
Like a phone number.
No doubt concussed Nesta had deemed it logical enough. Her mother’s dying breath a kind of atonement for leaving her children with nothing in the whole word but a father that could watch his girls starve and go into the woods with his hunting rifle and whore themselves out like they meant nothing.
A life-line in the deep waters opaque with clouds of blood.
“Здравствуйте.”
Those three syllables had been like a punch to the gut.
Nesta had made a noise that might have sounded like “mom?” or the creaking of a damn as it ached under duress. She’d obviously known it wasn’t her mother, but she hadn’t heard a woman speak Russia since- hadn’t heard Russian at all in years.
“Who is this?”
Trying to pull herself together Nesta had taken a breath that had rattled, dripping wet and slightly wheezing. Everything was going to be okay. She’d been right. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Of all the phone numbers in the world what was the likelihood that the voice on the end of this one spoke her mother’s native tongue?
“I’m- I’m Angelina Archeron daughter. She gave me this number I don’t know what to do I-”
The specifics aren’t as clear after that. Like a jigsaw left out in the rain or soaked in fresh hot blood, the pieces, the details, they’d melted to mush.
A mess she’d held in her hands and wondered what the fuck to do with.
What do you do with a dead body and the knew found knowledge your mother was a boyevik for the Russian Mafia? What do you do with her retirement package which contained nothing but the contact for an assassin working for the New York arm.
Nesta had only known what she wasn’t going to do.
Go down for murder.
Aunt Ripleigh had told her what to do over the phone, instructing her on how to deal with her injuries and Thomas’ pulp of a body. How to explain the state of her face and ribs and fingers and head. What to do with his car and how to speak and sit and and react when then police came asking questions about Thomas’ disappearance. How to get away with it.
Nesta had followed each direction flawlessly. Consoled in finally having a definitive plan. Even a plan that started with “buy meat cleaver, trash bag, battery powered blender and bucket, with cash from dead boyfriend’s wallet.” Even a plan that got progressively worse from that point on.
Filleting chunks of a body that had once been inside her. Hauling a trash bag of boyfriend smoothie to the river with broken fingers. The thick slop sinking almost immediately just as Aunt Ripleigh had said it would. Before she’d told Nesta to burn the bones and roast marshmallows over them.
“If it had not been you it would have been next girl,” Ripleigh had said. “And she might not have had your fight.”
“You mean she might not have been disturbed enough to kill her boyfriend?”
“Killer instincts, Anastasia. Is not disturbed, is talent,” Aunt Ripleigh had said. “Cannot be taught but what can be taught you learn quick. No whining. Like very good puppy with very sharp teeth.”
“Woof,” Nesta had said dryly.
“Stray puppy though, no? Is why you have no manners.”
“You offering to adopt me?”
“I have pet already. And my husband is funnier than you.”
Nesta’s compromised rib had punished her for finding that funny.
“But you ever want job, you call me.”
Needless to say that was not the last time she’d called Aunt Ripleigh.
Three weeks later and four months shy of getting her high school diploma Nesta had turned eighteen and moved to New York in order to “pursue modelling”.
In reality she was doing coffee runs with a dash more arsenic than normal and luring prosecutors to hotel rooms they’d never leave. A personal assistant of sorts to Aunt Ripleigh.
She had kept the mafia, the Bratva, at an arms length whenever she’d been able. Paying off the shitty house she’d left her sisters in with one less mouth to feed and not wanting their address in any files accessible to people with skill sets like her’s.
And while working with Ripleigh had been a mortiferous riot, two gals shattering the glass ceiling in their industry and slitting throats with the shards; Nesta had developed expensive taste from the fringes of high criminal society. She’d cared less about the art of killing than she had about the art she could hang up in a penthouse apartment if she were in private practice. Her lust for comfort winning out after two years or so at which point she’d gone freelance. Assisting in a few heists before getting in with a crowd of Nazi hunters for a bit, all the while keeping in touch with her mentor.
Until Feyre had moved to the city.
Then she’d given up on the more dangerous antics, selling out for safer and even more lucrative bets like CEOs and cutting ties with Aunt Ripleigh. Terrified if not a little paranoid of something happening to her sister. Which had been shit. Because Nesta hadn’t had any other friends. Like, at all.
At eighteen Feyre was still as bitter and proud as she’d been when Nesta had left. As Nesta herself still was.
Elain had tried bridging her sisters’ relationship once she’d moved to New York but she’d had better success career-wise. Working at a florists before eventually graduating to a self employed wedding planner.
Nesta had kept her thoughts on the psychological tells of a girl jilted at the alter becoming a wedding planner to herself. Mostly because Elain was always brining her cake samples she’d stolen and Nesta wasn’t going to sabotage her supply of free cake.
Feyre on the other hand had gone about far less conventional means of making a living. The child was a force to be reckoned with if for nothing but her resourcefulness and almost objectionable will to survive. Fiercely independent and clumsily capable she’d taken a crack at everything while selling her art on the side. It was a piece she’d modelled for that had delivered her to true economic grandeur however.
Well, “modelled” maybe wasn’t the word. Her sister had essentially been used as a human stamp. Her naked body detailed with intricately painted swirls then pressed to canvas.
The work had been showcased somewhere high brow and had caught the eye of one Mr Rhysand Velaris, thirty-one and the sole inheritor of his late father’s worldly possessions. Among which were several millions of dollars.
Half of which now belonged to her sister thanks to a very reckless prenup on his part.
Though Nesta had briefly wondered if he’d spent at least that on the engagement ring. A glittering iceberg that seemed to only glare brighter next to the stark black band tattooed just beneath it, a matching tattoo on Rhysand’s own ring finger. Because of course they’d eloped in Paris and gotten tattoos instead of wedding rings.
If Nesta had been closer to her baby sister she imagined she might have felt betrayed on some level. But as things were, Nesta wasn’t entirely sure she would have received an invite even if they’d had a traditional wedding, planned to perfection by Elain.
It was probably the worst part of her job. The distance she had to put between herself and everyone she had the potential to care about. A distance she could never close even if she decided to retire right this minute because the damage had already been done. Nesta had become a liability to their safety the minute she’d moved here and started in this line of work.
She took another chocolate from the box she’d snatched from downstairs on second thought. Her supply already dwindling thanks to the rather depression freight train of thought she’d embarked on.
That and the fact they were really very good.
Cassian may have been a prick, but she couldn’t deny he had great taste.
In chocolate, and women, she thought smugly. Sinking deeper into the basin.
A heat flushed up her neck that had nothing to do with the bath as she unwillingly remembered how he’d softly coaxed one of these lovely little parcels between her full lips. The drunk hunger in his deep brown eyes and what he’d done next, snapping her lace thong between his teeth-
Her music stopped. Only to be replaced by a buzzing thrum of her phone.
Leaning forward Nesta checked the caller ID before swiping across the screen to accept the call and sinking back to her earlier position.
“I’m not in the mood,” she hummed dismissively, head tipped back against the lip of the tub and eyes closing. She’d known this was coming, better to get it over with.
“When I supply you with handsome, rich, and eligible men, I do not expect you to break them!” Feyre castigated through the phone, and anyone might guess she were the elder sibling.
Feyre indeed thought herself wiser and more worldly than both Nesta and Elain, and getting married hadn’t helped diminish her false sense of maturity. Thrusting her character into some weird sarcastic seriousness that mirrored her husband’s demeanour perfectly. It made Nesta cringe so thoroughly she was mildly concerned about getting wrinkles.
“And I thought we’d grown out of sharing toys, but it seems both our expectations were thwarted.”
“Humans aren’t toys!” Feyre reminded her. Not that Nesta didn’t already know that. No vibrator had never made her cum as hard as Cassian had.
“And if you resented me setting you up with Cassian then why did you fuck him ?” Feyre asked. And she said fuck as though it were synonymous to stab or poison.
“Was it to punish me? Because if so you did a spectacular job. He’s crazier about you than ever and won’t stop moping. The second-hand embarrassment is painful enough without the added agony of how annoying it is.”
If he likes me so much why was he so eager to assume the worst of me? Nesta thought spitefully.
It didn’t matter that she technically was lying to him. He didn’t know that.
“You told me to give him a chance.”
“And you couldn’t have decided you didn’t like him before having sex with him?”
Nesta wasn’t surprised Feyre had taken Cassian’s version of things at face value.
Her husband’s family were unimpeachably wonderful in her eyes. Meanwhile Nesta remained just another reminder of a time Feyre couldn’t have afforded the plane ticket to get to New York, let alone a town house on the upper east side. A cold bitch who hadn’t begged to join the weird cult that was the Velaris family and their innermost circle when Feyre had married Rhysand last year.
“Oh I’d already worked out he was an ass by that point but I thought he could at least make up for putting me through the date. Not much going on in that head but he quite clearly had it all going on-
“Ew ew ew!” Feyre interrupted. “One, I need this conversation to steer clear of anything anatomical, and two, do you have to be so horrible?”
“You’re the one pimping out your friends, I just took you up on the offer.”
“Ever heard of the third date rule?”
“Didn’t you marry Rhysand on the third date?”
Feyre sighed.
“Cassian’s a good guy, Nes. It takes a lot to come out the other side of what he’s been through a good man and he deserves the world so-”
“So why did you send him my way?”
Nesta knew what Feyre thought of her. And if she hadn’t then this conversation would have made it very clear.
“Because Nesta! You’re twenty-four and already a crazy cat lady! I’m sorry I tried to save you from dying alone and having Vex eat your corpse.”
Nesta rolled her eyes.
“Have you ever considered I choose to be alone because I like it?” She asked.
Feyre sighed again, but it was softer this time, sad more than exasperated.
“You’re not alone, Nesta,” she said. “You’re lonely.”
It was annoying enough that she was right, she didn’t have to be so pretentious about it aswell.
“I’m fine,” Nesta said.
“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.
“Well I’ve been smoking.”
“I’ll be sure to put how funny you were on your headstone when those things kill you.”
“I’m racing Rhysand to the grave, he has more cigars than I do shoes.”
“He only smokes them on special occasions.”
“And how do you know this isn’t a celebratory cigarette on account of you calling me?”
“Because instead of saying hi you said I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh so you did hear me?”
“I hear you, Nesta,” Feyre conceded, disappointment weighing on her words. “Loud and clear. Have a good week.”
She hung up.
“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.
When the silence replied she sank beneath the water. As though she hoped it might act as the cushioned walls of a padded cell meant to protect those who posed a danger to themselves.
It didn’t. And that unpleasant ache didn’t go away. It never did.
Worse than the dull pounding in her ears and tightness in her chest as she held her breath.
But it would be nothing compared to the devastation of seeing Feyre or Elain hurt. The tender ache of keeping them at arms length, knowing they were at least there to brush her fingers against, was worth avoiding spending the rest of her life reaching for someone taken from her.
Perhaps that was also why she’d wanted so fiercely to dislike Cassian.
Nesta re-emerged with a gasp, her chest on fire.
What an unpleasant notion, she thought, running her fingers through her wet hair and sinking back as she took a slower breath. That she’d been looking for a reason to dislike him even after overcoming the minor detail she was going to kill his friend and client. An excuse to throw in the towel as soon as she could. Because it was just easier.
Easier than accepting she was fundamentally terrified of keeping him around.
Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.
Fuck.
Her being mad at him had been a cop out.
Because yes he’d been a petty, insecure idiot; but hadn’t she told him she was going to fuck and chuck him? Hadn’t she been at typically fast to get in a fight with him? Substantiating his insecurities.
Nesta might have been furious at his calling her a coward, but he hadn’t actually been wrong.
She’d let some subliminal fear convince her to sabotage things.
A subliminal and blissfully irrational fear she realised because, Cassian, a monument of pure muscle, could definitely look after himself. He’d been marine corps for Christ’s sake. Not to mention she’d seen him take down Helion enough times in the ring while still working for Eris and the fact the man literally specialised in keeping people safe for a living!
Nesta felt a weird and almost unfamiliar lightness in her shoulders. It felt a little like hope. Which was also terrifying.
But she wasn’t going to the let the fear control her this time.
—
Cassian had ignored her calls.
All three.
Which was fine because she’d been stalking him for the past month. She knew exactly where he’d be that evening and doing things in person meant she could kill him if he kept up the asshole routine.
Nesta’s platform stiletto boots clipped against the laminate flooring as she emerged from the elevator. Stalking lazily through the top floor of the Illyria building.
Even if she killed Cassian he was going to die happy. She looked good enough to eat. Thick hair fastened back into a high ponytail, the details of her face were subject to full attention. Her eyes appearing almost wider and lashes lavished with a black like her jet thigh-highs and tied coat. Plump lips softly lined and shaded, she looked drop dead fucking gorgeous.
Though it was what she was wearing under her fastened coat that was the real killer.
Nesta didn’t uncross her ankles from where they’d flicked over one another as she let herself lean against the doorframe of Cassian’s office.
It was wide open. No privacy needed when everyone else had gone home around four hours ago. The night detail on Helion allowing Cassian time to catch up on work as he had every night and well into the morning for the past month.
“All work and no play?”
Cassian looked up from his desk.
“I can fix that,” she said.
He’d never looked more handsome.
Hair bundled into a dark band, his shirt cuffed at his forearms and a bit of scruff marring his chiselled jaw. A pair of slim reading glasses were pushed up his slightly imperfect nose and it was such a turn on Nesta was glad she was leaning against something.
He looked a little exhausted in a kind of brooding and adorable way.
It gave her this awful pining to massage those sculpted shoulders as he let loose a deep, tired sigh, arms folding across that powerful chest causing his white shirt to hiss as he leaned back into his chair. It was a fucking massive bit of furniture. But then it had to be to accommodate him.
“What are you doing here?”
Rude.
Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.
“You ignored my calls,” she said by way of explanation. Making her way to the bookcase and running her fingers across a row of spines. It was mostly files, but she noticed a few novels as well.
“You kicked me out of your bed at three in the morning.”
She turned to find him watching her.
His words were dismissive and effortlessly confrontational as usual. But there was an edge to his voice. And it wasn’t arousal. Even if his gaze caught on her boots and lingering there for longer than he’d probably care to admit.
Nesta leaned back against the bookshelf, inspecting her manicure with an eye roll.
“You’re still upset about that?”
“Not at all,” he said with a smirk. Reclining back against the chair a little further, hips rolling and arms casually folding. Too casually. The dangerous grace of it speaking to the emotion that no doubt roiled beneath his bronze skin. Belied by that bullshit cockiness which grated her to the bone. “It seems I dodged a bullet.”
“Oh really?”
“The whole hot but mean cliché is one thing, but crazy hookup who stalks me-“
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.
She’d seen hints of this before. The rugged and crude act meant to cover up the insecurity she’d also been treated to.
“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot you can’t ever admit what it is you want.”
“You don’t have a clue what I want.”
“I have several, Nesta.” He looked her up and down pointedly.
The way he said her name. Even like this it made her weak in the knees while her fingers itched to choke him.
It was all very conflicting.
“Oddly confident in your last performance for someone so insecure,” she quipped lazily.
Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.
“What do I have to be insecure about?” He said. “I didn’t hide behind a half-ass lie to throw someone out of my bed. And I’m pretty sure even your neighbours can attest to how good of a time I gave you,” he smirked again. “You’re not a good enough liar for the way you moaned my name to have been an act.”
The white hot fist in her stomach folded in on itself as it melted to a stickiness despite the misguided insult. She certainly hadn’t been putting it on Saturday. Every sound he’d drawn from her dripping with sincerity. Every moan and whimper well deserved.
“You’re right,” she said.
Cassian blinked.
Nesta prowled toward him and hummed, “those, four, orgasms, were about as fake as my emergency.”
The sultry softness to her voice thickened to something less affected at those last words.
Cassian scoffed. Though there was something withdrawn and careful to him that hadn’t been there a second ago. Like a snake recoiling in case it needed to strike. “Your emergency, of course. Which was?”
“Nothing to do with you.”
He shook his head, laughing bitterly.
“Seriously, Nesta? You’ve had two days to come up with something now.”
“You’re not listening to me,” Nesta slipped atop the corner of the desk, perching there with her long legs crossed over one another. The blade of a stiletto heel close enough to brush up his calf if she wanted to make him shiver.
But she didn’t. She just wanted him to listen. To understand what she was saying so she didn’t have to say anything more because for fucks sake he was the one who’d acted up and yet she was here putting her pride on the line again.
“It had nothing, to do with you,” she said slowly.
A weighted silence settled like snow between them.
Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.
“Shit.”
His head fell into those large hands.
“Shiiiiiiiit,” he cursed again. “Oh god, how badly have I fucked up?” He groaned, looking up. So humbled and distraught it was almost comical.
“Irredeemably.” Her eyes flirted with the notion of a little smile even if her mouth remained unquirked as she propped her hands against the desk behind her and leaned into them to more comfortably watch him suffer.
“I’d beg you not to tease me but honestly I think it’s the least I deserve- fuck.”
“Like me teasing you isn’t the highlight of your day.” She rolled her eyes.
Cassian laughed, pained and almost sheepish, which shouldn’t have been hot but god it made her blush.
Keep your cool goddamn it. She wanted a little more bang for her buck where grovelling was concerned before she let on how eager she was for things to get back on track.
“Want to flat out abuse me and make it the highlight of my year?”
She was struggling to keep the smile off her face even as she said, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding bad behaviour. You’re a man, you get enough of that already.”
“Nesta,” he took his glasses off, setting them down on the desk beside her thigh. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’m, really, really fucking sorry I’m an idiot.”
Nesta slid of the desk.
“Go on,” she instructed.
“A moron a fool a stupid, stupid son of a bitch.”
Taking a step forward she was stood between his thighs. Picking up his glasses and pushing them back on his nose. Missing the sight of this hulking, powerhouse of a man in spectacles.
“I’m sorry.” Cassian was looking up at her with those big brown eyes, and the bastard actually leaned into her palm.
“Oh for fucks sake how did anyone discipline you as a child with those damn puppy-dog eyes?” She growled softly, furious.
“They didn’t to be honest,” he admitted with a breathy laugh.
“I can tell.”
She slid her hands to his shoulders, fingers curling soft and possessive over the stacked muscle and palms pressed to his upper chest, stepping tighter into him.
“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”
Cassian swallowed.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he tried. Intoxicatingly deep, trying to maintain that arrogant and playful edge in a way that made his words all the hotter. The simmering ache he attempted to push down all but throbbing in his voice.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she returned, brows arched. Battling a smirk off her face.
“Can I ask you to do something for me, then?”
“If you say please.”
“Please don’t screw around with me.”
Nesta faltered.
Those warm hands came to rest on her lower back, long fingers curling slightly into the fabric and coaxing her that last bit closer so that her thighs brushed against the edge of his chair and her stomach was brushing up against his.
“I’m really into you,” he admitted. “You’re smart and you’re beautiful, and at first I thought the whole hard to get thing was an act but woman you are genuinely hard to get and it is, so sexy. But whatever it is that’s holding you back, that made you wait a week to call me, that made you claim all you wanted was a hook up; I’m clearly not cut out to compete,” he confessed. “It got in my head, and that’s on me and me lashing out at you the other night that’s on me too and I’m so, so sorry Nesta. I need to know where I stand with you though. I need to know if you’re actually interested in me. Because I like you. But I’m too old for games.”
The silence was so thick she could have cut through it with a knife.
Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.
“That’s good,” she assured him at last. “Because I’m not a toy.”
She brought her fingers to the belt of her coat and pulled slow and deliberate.
Black glazed her figure with a gorgeous intimacy. The dress hugging at what little it concealed with perfection enough to make up for its lake of mercy. Long legs sheathed in those thigh-high boots, the item was short enough that a decent length of her thighs could be seen. Interrupted at the last possible moment by sleek jet as though she’d been dipped in oil of purest night.
Cassian’s eyes blew out to sticky treacle behind those glasses.
“I’m human, Cass,” she hummed, tossing her coat onto the desk behind her as she spoke. “Which means I make mistakes.” He swallowed as she sighed softly, her cleavage swelling a little with the motion. “And that I have needs. Needs you can be the one to fulfill or not.”
She slipped into his lap, straddling him, knees bent either side of his thighs. The corded strength of which pressed painfully and exhilaratingly apparent against the soft seam of her inner thighs and she was genuinely suffering from some kind of contact high. Every inch of him seizing up subtly, deliciously taught at her touch in an effort not to respond and yet it only revealed just how much she affected him.
“Nesta-“
“Shhhhhh,” she interrupted. Hands cupping that ruggedly handsome face and titling it back to tuck her’s against him slowly. “But I want it to be you,” she purred against his jaw, tracing her nose up the stubbled curve. “Let me show you how bad.”
“Someone could come back-“
“I don’t care,” Nesta murmured against his mouth. “I want you.”
His eyes fluttered shut. And she felt his cock stir in those immaculately tailored slacks.
“Nesta-”
She could feel every muscle that licked up his stomach tremble with a drawn out contraction as she said it again, her hands slipping down to his broad shoulders.
“I want you,” she purred again.
He might have tried to breath. And it might have rubbed up something uncomfortably nice in her lower tummy.
“Say it,” she whispered, tilting her face so that the tip of her nose brushed up the side of his. Her breath hot on his stubbled Cupid’s bow and hands running down the solid power of his upper body, burning up through his shirt. “Say it, Cassian.”
His brown eyes like cognac and magnolia were hooded behind his glasses as he conceded.
“You want me,” he breathed.
She grazed her mouth against his. Lips parted suggestively and an almost silent, utterly cruel noise escaping her.
The length of his thick cock pressed up against the seam of her plush sex as he grew to full, hard attention in his slacks. Warm and thrilling even through her panties and their open mouths melted into one another hot and heavy, tongues caressing as his large hands came to her knees and smoothed up her bare thighs covetously.
“Fuck,” he groaned lazily as her hips began rolling deeply into him, and her hands slid under his shirt. Fingers splayed, she snaked up the cobbled muscle of his stomach, the flesh burnished and warm beneath her touch. His shirt riding up to reveal the gutter of his hips, gruesomely toned and dusted with hair.
“This is…such a…” he breathed, between the perfect and yearning motions of their jaws, a hand smoothing up her waist in a way that made her shiver.
“Dream come true?” She hummed, kissing him wanton and unhurried. Dangerously close to becoming a brainless mess with the way his cock rubbed up her core.
His groan melted to a laugh or maybe it was the other way round.
“Yes,” he admitted breathlessly. “And a bad, bad…idea.”
“Well you’ve been a bad, bad boy, Cassian,” she whispered filthily against his ear, before capturing the lobe between her teeth softly.
She sucked and nibbled oh so gently and he expelled a breath so gravelly and masculine it twisted the hungry knot in her core tighter.
“Nesta…we-fuck you’re good at that…” he groaned lethargically . “Sweetheart, we can’t…”
“Why not,” she coed quietly, the sound airy and affectedly filthy.
“We’re…” he choked as he took in the sight of her cleavage, pushed intimately to his chest and escaping the neckline of her dress like a plume of toothpaste squeezed from the tube. “Fucking hell Nesta we’re in my office.”
“And I’m saying you could be in me.”
She rocked her hips against him with a particularly cruel slant.
The groan that escaped him made something flip in her stomach, tossing about whatever sweet, impossible to describe feeling rushed there at the same time at the way his head fell back against the chair as she worked him over. The hot friction that rubbed against her sensitive core the cherry on top of the sweet, creamy, decadent sundae.
“Besides,” she moaned, breathless and sultry. Teeth plunging softly into her plump bottom lip as she continued rolling her hips. Hands rubbing over his shoulders and providing her leverage. “You’re the boss.”
“I think we both know…that I’m not the boss…right now…” he groaned. Almost pained.
“Your cock a little much for those slacks?” She hummed, faux sympathy dripping through her mocking pout.
“I thought you liked a tight fit,” she teased, still pouting but eyes smokey. Her toes curling in her boots as her fingers began work on pulling his shirt apart.
The buttons popped undone with a sensual and pining tempo and she was moaning quietly into his mouth as she explored the panes and ripples of that powerful upper body. More than thorough in her hands-on assessment.
Cassian’s own hands were keeping just as busy, massaging and kneading her ass indulgently before smoothing over her rolling hips and eventually coming to her lower back. His thumbs pressing to the small of her back either side of her spine and it made something tight inside her swoon. The touch so hot and the memory it conjured so good. His big hands on her as he fucked her from behind.
“Nesta,” Cassian groaned deeply, as she began rocking into him tighter, hotter. The impression of his cock lined up just right with her aching core.
“Hey, baby,” She purred, drunk on the friction that made her whole body throb and hum with pleasure and the tip of her nose brushing the side of his. Hands snaking from his exposed chest to either side of his face and capturing his bruised mouth with her own. Chewing on his bottom lip obscenely, the friction beginning to push her over edge.
“Fuck you’re incredible,” he groaned huskily once she let up. Kissing back decadently. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed almost mindlessly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nesta.”
“You wanna show me how sorry you are?” she purred, sultry and low, mouth parting, forehead still pressed to his and eyes fluttering open to hold his own.
Cassian nodded, dumb and silent and eager and Jesus it turned her on.
“Yeah? You wanna make me cum?” She hummed.
“Yes, yes, please.”
“Touch me, Cassian,” she whispered against his open mouth. “Make it up to me, make me feel good.”
Cassian’s hands slid back to her ass and she moaned into the kiss he captured her lips in as he lifted her with a sensual squeeze, wrapping her long legs tightly round the tapered cut of his waist as he stood.
The surface of the desk was beneath her before she could work out which way was up and his touch smoothed down her legs to her knees before she could take a a breath in reprieve from kissing him. Her legs splitting either side of his broad hips and his erection, tucked to the side in his slacks and thick and heavy and hard, pushed against the inner seam of her thigh as he pulled that band from her hair.
“I’m gonna make these gorgeous legs tremble for me,” he pledged against the her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to where her pulse throbbed for him as he a hand through the loose locks.
And he began suckling at that sensitive spot just as a calloused hand slipped between her thighs.
“Mmmmm,” Nesta moaned smugly, gripping at his biceps still sheathed in the sleeves of his shirt as Cassian’s thumb ran up the seam of her dripping cunt through her panties. The lace a flimsy veil between her swollen clit and his hot touch.
“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he moaned into her neck, her head rolling back as he snapped her panties and began stroking his fingers through her soft folds possessively. “Missed those little sounds and your mouth and this pretty neck and perfect pussy.”
“Then cut out the all bark no bite bullshit and prove it,” she breathed.
“Yes ma’am,” he murmured thickly, the pad of his thumb coming to her clit and she moaned as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly. Her nails pressing into his shoulders, a few through the hiss of his shirt but the others carving crescents into the bronze muscle and tattoos like the meat of an apple.
His forefinger began teasing at her tight entrance and Nesta’s breath caught.
“Tease me and you’ll fucking regret it,” she warned thickly, and he pushed the digit inside.
The intrusion was far from the thick, eight inches she craved, but when he curled his finger against a sensitive, swollen spot deep inside her Nesta keened aloud.
“You look so fucking good like this,” Cassian breathed, husky and bestial as he crooked his finger inside her over and over.
“More,” she demanded.
It probably wasn’t clear if she was demanding more dirty praise or physical attention but Cassian was a good boy and covered all his bases. A second finger pushing inside her that second.
She gasped as the snug walls of her cunt stretched to accommodate the two of them as he waxed lyrical about how hard her moaning got him. Their foreheads level and those deep brown eyes lathering her with his earnest attention.
“You’re dripping down my knuckles like a fucking peach,” Cassian told her as he thrust inside her over and over, the only thing more obscene than her facial expression and the breathless sounds she was making being the quite, wet noises his fingers illicited.
He hadn’t let up on her clit, and at the exact moment he decided to start curling those two fingers together, he increased the speed and pressure with which he rubbed at her most responsive spot with his thumb.
“Cassian,” Nesta moaned, her fingers running up the nape of his neck and delving into his hair, still pulled into that bun.
“That’s it, that’s so fucking hot, baby, I want your cum dripping down my wrist,” he growled softly. Her nails sliding down his scalp.
“You’re so fucking needy,” she got out, which only served to utterly delight him. His thumb working at her from an oh so subtly more intense angle that had a familiar buzzing low inside her threatening to pluck her apart at the seams.
“Oh my god fuck,” she moaned. “Uhhu, that’s it, just like that oh my god.”
“You gonna cum, Nesta? You gonna cum on my desk- Jesus I’m gonna be thinking about you moaning, long legs spread for me while you moan so fucking dirty for my fingers every time I’m sat at this fucking desk now, you know that?”
His words sent her over the edge.
Silently she threw her head back as her orgasm licked up every frayed nerve in her body. It was hard. And Cassian kept on working those thick fingers inside her and over her sensitive clit throughout.
Fucking her dirty and skilled. Prolonging her twitching and bone melting pleasure.
Until she was snaking her hands from where they’d wound through his fastened hair, and pushing him off her at the shoulders. Falling back on her forearms with a shaky exhale, thighs still trembling subtly.
Cassian smirked. And brought his fingers to his mouth. Licking up the length of the calloused, sticky digits. Eyes on her’s from behind those obnoxiously sexy reading glasses she had half a mind to slap off his face.
“You taste even better than I remember,” he purred.
“Then get on your knees.”
Her voice was shaky but he didn’t even throw her another of those antagonistic and gorgeous smirks, just sank down. All six foot whatever, two hundred and something ridiculous pounds of muscle. Knelt on the floor between her legs.
“Is initiative encouraged of am I to be strictly obedient?” There was that smirk.
“You can use your brain,” she permitted. Still out of it. But still dying for him to touch her again. “If only because I need to be convinced you have one.”
His chuckle felt like fucking heaven between her thighs. His stubbled jaw rubbing up against her aching cunt as he kissed her like he meant it. Open mouthed and his tongue then slipping out to lavish her dripping slit before he began playing with her clit with the tip.
Nesta moaned, chewing down on her lip once she located the dignity to quieten down so she could keep it that way.
Her previous orgasm should have taken the edge off, but it had only reminded her already whetted appetite what there was to gorge on. Leaving her pining for more and disastrously sensitive.
“Mmmm,” Cassian moaned deeply- though honestly it was closer to a growl which was hot- and brought those large hands to her thighs. Holding her open for him stoking the bruise-blue flame that writhed in her core and allowing him better access to her pussy.
“Oh god right there,” Nesta keened. His nose brushing up against her clit as he licked up her snug entrance, teasing his tongue inside.
He threw her legs over his stacked shoulders and obeyed, working his tongue inside her with shameful enthusiasm only emphasised by the noises he was making. Seriously he was putting her to shame.
In fact if she hadn’t been rapidly approaching another orgasm she might have thought he was have more fun than her.
Hands no longer occupied with gripping her black-clad thighs they came to her hips and waist. Coaxing her to slant forward at an angle that granted him an even more advantageous angle from which to eat her out.
She moaned, manicured nails almost clawing into his desk behind her. “Mhmm mhmm uh,” she gasped sharply at the sudden relocation of his tongue. Cassian capturing her clit in his mouth and sucking on the sensitive bud as he flicked his tongue up and down.
“Fuck, yes yes yes yes,” she was utterly breathless. “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” she whined.
Cassian fucking groaned and it was like he’d pulled at the knot in her stomach with his teeth.
The muscles in her lower stomach twitching as she came, the cushiony walls of her cunt pulsing tight and the only thing grounding her to reality.
Though she was just lucid enough to know Cassian was lapping up the nectar between her legs with audible and pleased snarls of pure, masculine satisfaction.
Nesta couldn’t say how long it took her to stop seizing, just that she was completely drunk on pleasure by the time her body allowed her to at least try and think. She failed completely. Wasted on her orgasm, on Cassian.
“Come ‘ere,” she said, breathless and doped up. Eyes barely fluttering open, heavy lidded and probably glazing over with unabashed appreciation as Cassian did as he was told. Rising to stand before her, thick arms winding round her waist snuggly and pulling her to him tight.
His sheathed erection pushed to her sticky inner thigh and his powerful upper body, chiselled and broad and comforting, warm and hard and dusted with dark hair, pushed to her’s.
His sharp jaw, like her thighs, was slightly sticky, and his mouth looked even more abused than it from the attention of her teeth. But the best part- better than his mid-sex blush or the way he was breathing all deep and powerful and hungry for her, were his glasses. They were slightly fogged up at the edges.
“Apology accepted?” He asked huskily, like he was already sure of the answer. Like he didn’t care because no matter what she said he was going to have her screaming for him till they were both sick of each other.
“Apology accepted,” Nesta confirmed. Splayed hands smoothing up his broad chest as she captured his lips in a wanton kiss.
“That still leaves your punishment though,” she whispered.
Cassian’s dark brows had barely risen before she’d pushed him back and he was falling into the chair again. Breathing deep and thrumming with a desire that destabilised him as he watched her slip a stiletto heel beneath her panties on the floor and flick them up into her hand. Prowling toward him and climbing into his lap. Hoping it wasn’t obvious that her legs felt like liquid.
“Hold these,” she demanded, feeding the bundle of lace into his mouth, his groan muffled by the fabric and her hands making quick and embarrassingly eager work of removing his unfastened shirt. All but tearing it off his sculpted arms that must have been as thick as her thighs- his body was ridiculous.
She griped his wrists before he could start doing something like feeling her up and brought them behind his head. Elbows out and biceps flexed, his hands meeting in the middle at the nape of his neck.
Cassian kissed and nipped at her fingers as she plucked her panties from his mouth with one hand, holding his wrists with the other.
He licked at his lips as though chasing the taste of her lingerie, eyes on her’s from behind his glasses.
She wasn’t gentle knotting the lace round his wrists.
“Oh,” he grinned, trying to move his arms.
He couldn’t of course, the physics working against him and rendering it so his only way out would be pulling until the lace snapped for a second time this evening. Still, it was a fucking gorgeous sight watching him try. Biceps and broad chest flexing.
Tied up and at her mercy she was dripping wet for him and slipped her tongue into his mouth as a little reward for how fucking hot he looked like this. Kissing him obscene and wet.
“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.
“Harder,” Cassian grinned. No doubt referencing her answer to the very same question the other night.
Nesta bit his bottom lip, puncturing the bruised cushion subtly and she tasted blood on her teeth and his tongue.
“Safe word,” she insisted once more against his lips, fingers winding through his hair with a drawn out and yearning pull.
“Amren,” he groaned`. Then added, “don’t ask.”
“Yeah we’re done talking,” she informed him dismissively. Unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops of his slacks with a swift tug.
Cassian’s hips jumped beneath her and she unfastened the button slung low on his hips, pulling the zip of his fly down. Parted lips close to brushing.
“Down boy,” she purred.
“Bit late for that,” he breathed raggedly, jaw feathering as she slid her hand into his boxers.
“God you’re adorable,” Nesta pouted, freeing his thick cock. Obnoxiously engorged and a dribble of pearlescence spilling from the uncut tip.
“Now be a good boy and don’t you dare cum until I say,” she warned.
And sank down on thick inch after inch of his hot, rigid shaft.
Nesta couldn’t help the arch that slipped through her spine as he filled her up, the stretch so acute it had her eyes rolling back with a flutter of her thick lashes.
“Oh my god,” she moaned breathlessly, hands splayed against his powerful chest. Thighs straddling his, her walls hugged him vice like and- Jesus, he rubbed up that deep spot inside her perfectly.
“Nesta,” Cassian groaned beneath her. “You’re so… fucking tight.”
Nesta rolled her head to the side in tandem with her hips, growing accustomed to the sheer size of him and eliciting a raw sound from the man before she removed his reading glasses. Fitting them over the bridge of her own petite nose.
“No backseat driving now, sweetheart,” she purred a little shakily.
She rose onto her knees only to sink back down again with a filthy twist of her hips. Repeating the motion again and again. Gliding up and down his cock with a tight and slippery friction that had her stomach flexing and his gaze heavy lidded. Encouraging, low noises escaping from deep in his chest that she wanted to bottle up and get drunk on.
“Uhh,” she keened, dirty and blissful, hands on his stacked shoulders. “Uhhu.”
“Oh fuck,” Cassian breathed huskily. “Mmhhm…that’s it…fucking ride me baby”
Nesta felt a familiar heat fan at her core as she drank him up. Every perfect, delicious inch there for her to use.
“Cassian,” she moaned. The sound tasting like sex in her mouth.
She fluttered around him again on an upwards twist of her hips, his cock pushing in and out of her snug cherry with a delicious wet sound. Just audible above her filthy moans.
Riding him was like sucking on a hard candy, that intense sweetness at the centre burning ever closer. And he kept running that damn mouth. Gravelly and deep, lavishing her body with sickly sweet and dirty compliments.
“Fuck that’s it gorgeous, just like that sweet thing fucking hell you’re fucking perfect.”
Powerful and dripping with raw fucking desire his body rolled upwards into her, slick with sweat and chiselled sinew. His cock burying deeper inside her. The sounds he was making just to top it off causing a tight fuzziness to tremble in her upper thighs.
“Oh my god,” Nesta moaned, hands coming to his face and lips brushing his as so she moaned a hot, “I’m gonna cum,” into his mouth.
Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.
“Cassian,” she keened.
She began bouncing deeper in his lap. Up and down up and down. His cock thrusting inside her hard and rubbing at her g spot just right while her clit grazed the coarse hair at his rugged hips. There was a bead of sweat gliding down the chiselled muscle that carved his broad torso, washboard abs flexing as he resisted release and Nesta felt the pressure between her thighs reach a fever pitch.
Grunting he bucked violently beneath her once, twice, and she was undone.
Nesta might have made a noise this time. Airy and hot and open mouthed against his neck as she buried her hands into his hair.
He was so tense beneath her, like pure marble soaked in the heat of the sun. Trying not spill inside her as her walls flexed with every hot wave of pleasure.
And once it passed his breathing was as ragged as her own.
“You did so good,” Nesta whispered at last against his ear. Voice wrecked like she were experiencing a sugar crash. Nibbling at the lobe. Tasting salt on her lips and eyes fluttering shut at the heady scent of his aftershave.
“Does that mean I get a reward?” he managed.
“Something like that,” she hummed, repositioning herself so that her back was to his chest.
“Nesta please. Just untie me, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered against her ear. Voice trembling like he’d shot up something good.
Nesta only chuckled, head knocked back so she could hold his eyes as she rolled her hips. Teasing, tormenting.
“The second you get your hands on these,” she brought her hands to her tits, giving them a soft squeeze and biting her lip, “you’ll be cumming and out of commission.”
Cassian growled, watching her feel herself up as she rolled her hips in leisurely circles. Sensual and dirty. The length of his hard shaft, thick and velvet smooth beneath her.
“Fuck,” he moaned huskily. Nose buried at her throat and lips working against her pulse point with the assistance of his tongue and teeth. Just as slow and through as her hips.
She gasped softly, grinding deeper.
“You know how good I can make it for you,” he purred.
“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.
“Let me take care of you.”
“Cassian.”
“You make my name sound so sexy,” he grazed his stubbled jaw against the bruise he’d worked into her throat, the sensitive skin blushing warm at the contact as he moved his mouth to another location and started kissing and nibbling there. “Untie me, baby, and I’ll give you everything you want.”
Nesta smiled.
“Or I could keep you tied up and just take it.”
Cassian growled against her neck as she tilted her hips forward allowing his cock to spring up, and sank down on him again.
She moaned, loud and keening. Hands snaking through his hair behind her as she rocked herself up and down slowly. There wasn’t a lot of friction, but for now it was enough just to revel in how good Cassian’s cock felt. That last orgasm having finally takes the edge off.
“Fuck that’s it grind for me,” he moaned. His breath was hot against her neck and she could feel his heart beat. Feel every deep sound reverberate through his chest as she moved.
His cock rubbed up against her g spot, colours and stars bleeding behind her eyes like fireworks.
“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.
It was so good.
Hands fumbling distractedly she brought her fingers to untie him. And he deemed it all the permission he needed. Tearing himself free with a growl. Capturing her mouth in a slow and wanton kiss as those big hands came to rove her body, taking his time to pull her apart.
His touch hot and calloused, Nesta moaned into his mouth as he ran up her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her tits. Massaging and glazing every inch of her with a rough heat that made her feel like she was going to explode. Her body a champagne flute dangerously close to shattering at the frequency of his hot groans and growls.
“Right there, oh right fucking there baby,” She moaned quietly against his lips, one of his hands rubbing her hip and guiding her motions while the other palmed at her breast.
“Yeah? You like that?” He dipped his head to pull down the straps of her bra and dress down with his teeth until her cleavage spilt from the cups. Pebbled nipples tight and rosy in the dim light, peaking over the balcony of her bra.
“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her throat, exploiting the sensitive spot as he made his way back up to her face and watched her plump tits sway. A hand running from her hip down her thigh and back up again to slip between her legs to stroke her clit.
Nesta whined softly.
“Cassian…more…”
She kissed him sluggish and distracted. The two of them humming and moaning every so often until he started caressing her clit tighter and her sounds grew more frantic.
“Fuck uhhu, uhhu just like that,” she panted quietly into his mouth. “Oh god uhh, uhhh more…more…more more Cassian fuck me.”
She was on her feet before she could complain that his hands were no longer between her thighs. Pushed up against the edge of his desk, hands falling splayed against the surface to stop herself falling across the wood and legs split apart.
“Oh!”
“Good girl,” he grunted deeply. “Moan for me.”
His calloused fingers came to her clit, coaxing her closer to the edge as the other gripped her hip.
“That’s it, that’s my girl such a good girl baby.”
Mouth caught open as though on a fish hook Nesta started seeing black splodges, the puddles flaring in her vision on every one of his thrusts. Deep and dirty and filling her till she was so impossibly full she spilt over.
“Fuck fuck just like that oh my god you’re so fucking tight, cum on my cock, cum on my cock, uh, uh, uh.”
Cassian finished inside her with a guttural sound as she came. Pumping her full one last time with a brutal snap of his hips.
She was vaguely aware of his ragged breathing against her ear. Somewhat sure her forearms had fallen flat against his desk and her head hung forward. Hair falling over her face and back arched as her tight sex twitched and fluttered around him.
Coming back to her senses took longer than she’d ever admit.
“Is that cctv?” Nesta asked eventually, head tipped back and resting on his shoulder. Eyes flicking in gesture to the tiny little camera in the opposite corner of the ceiling.
“Don’t worry,” Cassian breathed. “It’s switched off.”
She turned her gaze to him.
“Shame.”
He let out an exhausted and reverent sound that might have been a laugh. And just as exhausted, once he’d pulled out, he fell back into the chair behind him. Trousers pulled back up but unbuttoned.
Nesta followed in fatigued suit, working her dress back down over her hips and sinking to the floor, back against the desk. She probably shouldn’t have worn black… but the impending bill and judgement from her dry cleaner would be worth it.
“Friday night. Pick me up at eight,” she breathed.
Cassian grinned.
“You like Italian?”
Nesta rolled her eyes from behind the reading glasses askew on her nose, but nodded none the less. She was sort of screwed if she didn’t. Cassian’s adopted family were Italian on his father’s side. The cuisine was going to be pretty commonplace if they kept seeing each other she imagined.
“What are you thinking about?” He hummed, watching her.
Nesta smiled. Then crawled toward him across the floor. “How I still have that table cloth you call a dinner jacket at my place.”
“Was that plan b?” He laughed, snaking an arm round her waist as she climbed into his lap. “Hold my jacket hostage till I agreed to go out with you again?”
“No,” she glared at him softly, nestling into the crease of his shoulder. “Though I had thought about wearing it tonight. Just your jacket and a pair of heels.”
Cassian licked his lips as though contemplating the sight and liking what he imagined very much. “Next time,” he hummed distractedly. Less promise more pleading. “This was…,” his free hand roved down her side, the black fabric glued to her figure. “And these…,” his touch made her melt as he ran down her thigh and platform boot, her legs flicked over one another.
“Lethal,” he whispered.
Nesta scoffed. “You’re telling me. My toes are killing me.”
Cassian hummed sympathetically, fitting a heel in his hand and guiding the shoe off her foot. Nesta groaned softly and he did the same with the other boot.
“That bad?” He chuckled, starting to massage her.
“Worth it though,” she sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder.
Cassian held the door open for Nesta to emerge out onto the street first. The cool night air whipping lazily at her hair.
Their second date had been incredible.
He’d taken her to Gnocco in the East Village. Proper Italian food, fairy lights, and intimate little corners perfect for flirting over too many glasses of wine and playing footsie beneath the table. Not to mention casual enough to see Nesta Archeron fitted out in heels, a snug black top, and a jaw dropping pair of jeans.
Tactically quiet and effortlessly biting as ever, she’d been armed with passionate reviews on the podcasts she’d listened to or books she’d read that week. Asking him about his own week and listening thoughtfully in a way that had probably made him blush.
If it hadn’t, then the way she’d licked at the creamy vanilla gelato on her dessert spoon definitely had.
Cassian was far too tempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of her dark skinny jeans as he emerged after her, but he felt Nesta probably wasn’t one for PDA. Or more accurately, public groping. And he was determined to be on his best behaviour this evening. Determined to make her forget all about how shit-awfully he’d handled last Saturday.
Not that he hadn’t given her a thorough apology.
Consistency was key however, and there would be no lapse in his conduct any time soon when it came to Nesta. He’d lucked out so fucking hard in getting a second chance when he hadn’t even deserved the first with a woman like her. Clever and beautiful and passionate and god he had it bad.
Had been thinking about her all week. Their date the only thing getting him through the late nights that were pretty much killing him at this point and the days spent arguing with Helion.
Cassian had worked out who’d put a hit on his friend. And why.
The contracts Helion was in the midst of signing were of a more personal nature that he’d originally let on. His will to be precise. In which it was detailed that upon his death, the pharmaceutical powerhouse that was Day Inc. should be handed over to Saoirse Vanserra.
The married woman Helion had gone and fallen in love with twenty odd years ago. The mother of his child.
Not that Helion had been aware of the that little detail until recently. Terminally ill, Saoirse hadn’t wanted the secret buried with her, and had gotten in touch with her old flame to tell him her youngest was his.
Despite being well into his fifties, Helion behaved like a twenty-something at the best of times. But learning he had a son that actually was twenty-something had thrust him into a panicked play at accountability. Saoirse was going to die, and soon, but Helion would still have a piece of her, a piece of the both of them despite the estrangement that had haunted their relationship since the start. A piece he’d do every and anything in his power to do right by.
Which meant Lucien would inherit his father’s company when the time came.
But removing Saoirse from his will…it felt like signing her death warrant. At least that’s what he’d told Cassian. That it it felt like he was giving up on her.
Cassian wished Helion could process everything in as much time as it took him. But time was a luxury not even the multi-millionaire could afford. Not with Saoirse’s eldest, Eris, trying to take him out before the will could be changed.
As things stood, Eris was set to inherit anything of his mother’s- a compromise reached between Saoirse and her cunt of a husband who’d wanted everything in his name. The Vanserra court its own savage little patriarchy of snakes and vipers, meaning as long as Beron was around, what belonged to his sons, belonged to him.
Still, Eris was the undisputed second in command and Beron wasn’t getting any younger. If he could take Helion out before any changes were made to the CEOs will, and if Saoirse’s doctors were to be believed, Day would practically be his by the end of the year.
Maybe sooner. If Beron beat his cancer ridden wife to death upon learning she’d been left Helion Day’s company and why.
He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.
“Hey,” Nesta’s voice tugged at his attention as they turned off tenth. “Where’d you go?”
Cassian snaked his arm around her small waist, pulling her against him. “Just thinking,” he said. And as hard as he tried to push those thoughts away, something of them lingered in his voice.
She raised a neat eyebrow. That little beauty spot above the arch lifting with it and the one beneath the corner of her plump bottom lip quirking just barely.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. Tucking her tighter to his side as he looked down at her. “That’s because the only thing I ever think about is you. And when I’m with you, I don’t have to do that, do I?”
Her blush was so utterly adorable it made him want to kiss her senseless.
“How do you do that?” Those eyes like the smoke of ice narrowed in sincere curiosity. It was a little terrifying. Which off course only made him like her more.
“What? Make you blush like a-”
“No,” she interrupted him with an embarrassed and chiding laugh, pushing at his chest slightly. “Say things, just say them- like the only thing that matters is that you mean them?”
Cassian smiled. “Not everything has to be done strategically, Nesta.”
“Says the military man.”
“And wouldn’t you say that makes me qualified to- okay fine, roll your eyes at me. Jokes on you because it’s actually very sexy when you do that so.”
Nesta laughed, her head falling to rest below his chest as they walked.
“Fortunate you say something to make me roll my eyes every five seconds then,” she hummed.
“And that I know just how to make those eyes roll back,” he purred lowly in response with a roguish grin, rubbing his thumb against where her coat lay over her stomach.
“Oh and you’re telling me this whole conversation wasn’t strategically constructed so you could use that line?” Nesta looked up at him.
“Sweetheart, when are you going to accept that I’m just incredibly smooth?” He grinned. “Besides, that wasn’t a line.”
“That was so a line!”
“You’d know if I was giving you a line.”
“Go on then. Give me your best line,” she challenged. Stopping dead and turning on him with her arms folded. Cassian didn’t let his arm slip from around her waist though. Kept it right where it was as he brought his free hand to tuck a lock of chocolatey hair behind her ear. Inspiration striking him.
“Are you a box of chocolates?” he asked, gravelly and suggestive. “Because I’d love to take your top off.”
Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.
“That’s awful!” She put her hands firm against his chest. “How did you ever get laid before I took pity on you?”
“Um I’m gorgeous and rich,” he reminded her, both arms now caging her in.
“What a coincidence,” Nesta purred, their noses tucked against one another just barely thanks to his date’s shoes. No doubt expensive as they were tall.
“No coincidences here, sweetheart. This is all fate.”
“I’m deliberately not rolling my eyes just to spite you for saying something so cliché and dumb,” she murmured.
“Fine then. Fate and your meddling sister,” he admitted.
“Let’s not talk about my little sister right now,” Nesta’s hands snaked up to toy with the lapels of his coat.
“What would you rather we talk about?”
“I don’t want to talk at all,” she whispered. And pulled him down lazily to meet her mouth.
Cassian moulded his lips to the perfect pressure of her own. Hard and soft, her mouth like velvet and her body pressing into his tight and loose in all the right places.
Kissing Nesta was like brushing you fingers against the glacial softness of snow like flakes of glass. Irresistible and inevitable. Burning so soft at first before the sensation grew unbearably tender and acute. It reminded you that you were alive.
The movements of their mouths grew hotter, no less lethargic, but simply heavier. Like they had all the time in the world and planned to exploit every second.
So much for not into PDA, Cassian thought, as she coaxed his mouth open further with her tongue, his own slowly swiping to meet it. And he did slip his hand into her back pocket then, giving her a fond and pining squeeze which pulled her tighter into him.
The pads of her thumbs brushed at either side of his jaw as she arched a little, those perfect tits pushed against his upper body and he dug his fingers a little more possessively into the fabric of her coat. Bunching at her waist beneath his calloused touch.
Nesta sighed sweetly into him-
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassian swore. Tame Impala playing from his pocket.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who likes your attention,” Nesta laughed quietly, hands smoothing back to her sides politely. The little menace. Her effortless composure all the more devastating with her mouth kissed cherry-red and pupils blown wide as saucers.
He fished out his phone, and declined the call.
“Well you’re the only one getting it.”
She rose her brows as though she were impressed, winding her arms back around his neck.
“For a man who hates games you have game, Velaris.”
“Would you feel less wooed if I told it you was just Rhysand?” He admitted. Rejecting his busybody brother’s phone call a far less bold gesture than if it had been work.
Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.
“That makes it even better,” she kissed him again.
Cassian kissed her back through his laugh, dipping her back slightly for a more indulgent angle, her arms lacing tighter around him to hold herself up. Like he’d let her fall.
Nesta was the one laughing now and it tasted like gelato and champagne and sunrises. He nipped at her lip as he pulled her back up with him snuggly, and she brought her hand to cup the side of his face, the other at his tapered waist.
“I should get going,” she hummed distractedly, hand gliding up his body like she didn’t even realise.
Her tongue caressed his slowly before he was muttering against her, “probably”, chasing the plush heat of her mouth.
They didn’t stop. Not even as Nesta was murmuring a disjointed, “heighten the…suspense…keep you…wanting and all that.”
“I’m already losing interest,” he purred gruffly, their jaws knocking intimately as the kiss became hotter and fitful, short breaths and hungry mouths. Her nails scraping softly up the nape of his neck and through his hair.
“And you’re looking for it in my back pocket, is that it?” She whispered, and Cassian gave her ass a firm squeeze as either confirmation or reprimand.
She bit his bottom lip, the nip of her pearly teeth giving way to a sensual sort of chewing that made his eyes roll back behind closed lids and his large hands wound through her hair to guid her head back so he could take charge. Kissing her slow once again but dirtier, thorough and wanton and Nesta keened almost silently.
“Found it,” Cassian said thickly into her mouth.
“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.
“Yes please.”
Nesta slid her hand between them. Fingers brushing his belt, then lower-
Cassian couldn’t tell if he was relieved or devastated when she slipped her way inside his pocket and plucked free his phone.
She withdrew just barely from the kiss, switched it on and turned the screen to him. The device unlocked as both his hands tucked into her pockets and her manicured thumbs were tapping away.
Cassian brushed at the curved beam of her high cheekbone with his nose, trying to see what she was up to.
“What are you doing?”
“Callander says you’re free Friday. Or it did. Now it says you have a date.” She nestled herself back into him tightly, tucking the device back into his pocket, exploiting that teasing proximity to something else entirely and driving him crazy as she grazed his mouth with her own.
“Congratulations.”
Cassian grinned.
“Tha- wait just to be clear the date is with you, right?”
“Yes, Cassian, the date is with me,” she chuckled. “And I can’t wait,” her humming melted to something wordless and heavy as he kissed her again.
Slow and explicit he stroked his tongue inside and he swore he felt the flutter of her lashes against his cheek.
“Cassian,” she breathed almost silently and it burnt his lungs like freezing air.
“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.
“May I take you home,” Nesta corrected between the sinful caress of their lips.
“Please do.”
She was kissing the smirk off his face like she could taste how snug he was and wanted a piece of it for herself. Like she were working at a marshmallow or strawberry lathered with thick chocolate from a hot fountain of the stuff.
“Maybe you are smooth,” she whispered and it only inflated Cassian’s self satisfaction. “But we both know I like it rough.” Ouch. “Just like we both know you’re way too exhausted to have your way with me.”
He pulled back abruptly.
But his mouth had barely opened to argue when she gave him a definitive “don’t”. It was little bit arousing. “You said yourself how late you’ve been working. Have you slept at all this week?”
For all her icy glares and hellish attitude, at her core, Nesta was kind. She cared despite her pretences to the contrary and it meant she noticed things. Like how despite his lively grins, Cassian was out for the fucking count.
“That’s what I thought. You can screw me when I know you won’t pass out before making it to third base.”
“The only one who’d be passing out is you once I’m through fu-”
“Save that thought for a night you have the energy to see it through,” she said.
“But I-”
A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.
He growled a bitter but accepting sound. She was right, of course she was right, because she was Nesta and a Nesta was always right.
“Friday,” he promised. “I’m gonna cook for you, something fucking romantic.”
“More romantic than that sentence?”
“Look I may not be Keats but I know my way round a stove, so hold all sarcastic comments until I’ve fed you.”
“I’ll try, but I know for a fact you’re going to make that very hard.”
“How have you already failed?”
“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.
“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.”
“So you’ve said,” she blushed.
“And I’ll keep saying it if every time I do you blush like that.”
“Like I’m embarrassed for you?” she countered with an arched brow and a cruel twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“You’re so mean,” he grinned.
They made their way to the curb and hailed down a car on twelf.
“Want me to ride with you back to your apartment?” he said, opening the back door of a yellow cab that had pulled up for her.
“That’s sweet, but trust me, I can take care of myself,” she promised.
“Text me when you get home safe and sound just to spite me then,” he said from the opposite side of the door.
“I will. But you better not be awake to read it,” She gave him a lingering kiss before gracefully tucking herself inside.
“Night, gorgeous,” he winked, and shut the door.
Her ride had just turned onto fourteenth when Cassian decided against hailing his own despite the cold. It was only fifteen or so minutes on foot, and he could probably do with cooling down.
Though even if he had to trek through tundra to get home he suspected he’d still find himself burning up under a cold shower in an attempt not to jack off to the thought of Nesta like a fourteen year old.
Stuffing his already slightly numb hands into his pockets he began walking, his fingers brushing against his phone. He should probably call Rhys back.
The phone rang for a moment before his brother picked up.
“Did you decline my call?”
“Yup.”
“Bastard.”
“I’m sure Feyre will kiss your bruised ego better,” Cassian grinned as he walked. “Along with something else so long as she doesn’t hear you’ve been calling me names,” he added slyly.
“Are you threatening to tell on me to my wife?” Rhysand asked, a little wound up by the allusion to Feyre’s kissing certain places even if he hid it behind an unimpressed drawl.
“Are you pretending the thought doesn’t have you quaking in your givenchy loafers?”
“On the topic of not upsetting Feyre, she’s demanding a family dinner.”
He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.
“That why you’re calling?”
“Partly,” Rhys said. “Work’s been…She wants to be around family right now,” he said with an all too familiar casualness. “You free?”
“For Feyre?” Cassian said without hesitation. “Yeah, I’m free.”
He would just have to pull an all nighter on the Monday.
“Thank you. And also fuck you for implying if it was for me you wouldn’t be,” his brother said.
“Well you called me just as Nesta was about to slip her tongue down my throat so-”
“Nesta?” Rhys interrupted. “I thought that was over?”
Shit.
In all the carnage that had been the last week he hadn’t bothered letting his family know he and Nesta were back on. The woman was a touchy subject and he hadn’t had the energy or balls to get into it.
While Rhys had been able to excuse Elain’s inactivity when the Archerons had been at their financial lowest, he’d never managed to extend that same courtesy to Nesta. Maybe it was because the first time they’d met she’d called him a cradle snatching whore. Regardless, Rhysand pretty much hated the woman’s guts, meanwhile his wife was desperately trying to lure her into the inner circle of the Velaris family.
Cassian may have been able to bench a number higher than his IQ but he wasn’t dumb. He’d clocked on to the fact his sister-in-law was using him as Nesta bait. In all honesty he was loving it. Nothing made him happier than helping out his family, and if that meant taking out an intelligent, passionate, stunning young woman, then really it was a double-win.
Taking a second to grind his jaw softly he was reminded to tread carefully. Not something he generally excelled at, but for the sake of his brother he could try.
“I know you’re not her biggest fan,” he said. “But Feyre forgave her years ago for bailing-”
“Well Feyre’s a better person than I am.”
“I’ll say. She set me up with a smoking hot model, meanwhile you’re trynna cock block me,” he tried.
“You can put your dick wherever you want, doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I guess not,” he ground out. Itching to hit something at the implication Nesta was just “somewhere to put his dick”.
“Cassian if you want to date a biblical plague in human form knock yourself out, seriously, god knows Feyre will be thrilled. And Azriel, your moping-”
“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.
“Fine, your stropping-”
“Fuck off.”
Rhys’ laugh was about smug as the bastard’s crooning voice.
“Mor’s gonna kill you by the way. You put a two grand dent in her wine collection over a woman you took back the next week.”
Cassian groaned, wiping a hand over his face. The only thing worse than the hangover he’d had Monday morning would be Morrigan’s laying into him on this.
“Don’t you dare tell her,” he warned.
“Fine but you’ll have to do it before next Sunday, you’re bringing Nesta.”
“Hang on a minute-”
“Feyre wants a family dinner and if you and Nesta are back on that means she’s coming,” Rhys said.
“Boy you are asking a lot of me here,” Cassian sighed dramatically. “I mean I can think of a few ways to persuade her but most of them are illegal in a lot of countries,” he grinned.
“I don’t care if you have to roofie her and strap her to the hood of your car, just make sure she’s there.”
“Alright, alright Don.”
“Don’t call me that,” Rhys growled irritably to Cassian’s delight.
“What else were you calling about then?” He smirked. “You said dinner was only part of it.”
“I wanted to ask how things were going with Helion,” his brother said. “Any update?”
Cassian sighed heavily.
“This a secure line?”
“Always”.
“The hit’s Eris,” he said. “Apparently Saoirse does pretty well for herself if Helion kicks it and it’s looking like she won’t last the year. When she goes Eris takes the lot so he’s trying to take Helion out before he can change his will.”
“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.
“I’m not done. Guess who Helion might be transferring that inheritance to?”
“Is Azriel going to finally have the funds to build that sex dungeon?”
“Not quite,” Cassian said. “The money’s going to Lucien.”
“Lucien?”
“Turns out the kid’s his.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.”
Rhys was silent on the other end for a moment as he evidently thought through matter.
“You said might, is he waiting on a paternity test or something?”
Cassian winced. “No. No he’s dragging his feet about changing the will altogether.”
“Why the fuck is he doing that there’s a bullet with his name on it!”
“You think I don’t know that?” Cassian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m the one whose gonna have to jump in front of that bullet if he doesn’t get his ass in gear. But he…he’s losing the love of his life, Rhys. I’m trynna cut him a little slack-”
“Slack Eris is going to have someone strangle him with.”
“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.
Rhys went silent again.
“We could always just kill Eris.”
Cassian would have laughed at the unrestrained glee in his brother’s voice if the suggestion hadn’t been so tempting.
“No you can’t,” he reminded him, ascending the steps to his front door.
“Sorry, sorry, you probably want plausible deniability and all that- which is a shitty reason to leave a family business-”
“What are you talking about? I left because I don’t like any of you.”
“Dick.”
“See it’s that kind of thing that made for a hostile work environment I really couldn’t foresee a future working under,” he grinned, unlocking the door.
“You taught me words far more creative than that growing up, monte de merda-”
“Desenmerda-te, and don’t cuss at me in Portuguese carcamano.”
“I’m fucking Persian!”
“Tell that to your pale ass like unbaked garlic bread, minchia,” Cassian retorted in Italian as he tossed his keys onto the skirting board and shrugged off his coat.
“A fanabla!”
“Love you too, tell Feyre I said hi.”
“See you and Nesta on Sunday, I’ll text you timings.”
“No shop talk okay, she still doesn’t know anything about-”
“I know, I know, it’s not me you have to worry about. Feyre keeps asking me to hire her.”
“As what? Has Cosa Nostra began dabbling in the modelling industry under your direction, baby brother?”
“If I said yes would you come back to us?”
“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.”
“Jesus, it’s been less than a month.”
“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.”
“Nesta’s no Feyre.”
Yeah, Nesta has enough wit about her to know you can’t go round offering Mafia jobs like candy, he thought to himself.
“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.”
“See you then.”
TAG LIST
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Idk if you are still taking prompts, but you know the vine two dudes chilling in a hot tub 5 feet apart cause they're not gay, and a girl quoting it in a park about two girls in the distance and one of them hearing and going "Actually I am gay" Like that scenario, only involving them fixing the boat? Maybe Sarah quoting it to give Sam shit when she thinks Bucky cant hear and Bucky goes "Wait, no I'm gay" or something, or just the general gist of that. Sorry if this us too specific, I've never sent anyone a prompt before :P
Hello Friend! Thank you so much for sending anything in at all! I know the vine you're talking about, but I couldn't find it on Youtube. (I did find a two day rabbit hole of old compilations though) This was also my first foray into writing Sarah as a fully fleshed character! I was excited to get the practice 'cause I had an idea bouncing around in my head about her and Bucky talking after he wakes up in the Wilson house. I kept her a little more like she had been in my other fics pre-show here. I so wish we got a little more of her!
Feel free, anyone, to send me Sambucky prompts!
The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation
Sarah Wilson loved her brother deeply. The kind of soul crushing love that could only be formed through family, loss, and approximately four thousand brawls around the living room throughout their life. She looked up to her brother more than she could ever imagine looking up to anyone. Even when they were fighting or picking on each other, she couldn’t help but feel a swell in her chest when he came into her line of sight.
That didn’t mean she understood him. In fact, from the age of eight, watching her brother interact with the world had become her go-to pastime. Why did he have to roll every pea around the plate individually before eating them? Why did he and his friends spend seven years socking each other in the arm to prove friendship? Why did he talk to himself in the mirror, even when he knew Sarah or someone else was standing in the doorway?
Sam Wilson was just deeply weird. She had no idea how he had tricked the Avengers, a plethora of bad guys, and half of the media world into thinking he was remotely cool. She saw a news story once that had King T’Challa standing on a platform with Sam and the newscasters talked about how impressive Sam’s suit was. It was unnatural, the effect he had on people.
And in all her years, she never thought she’d see anyone weirder than Sam. But then James Barnes had showed up. It was like a complete reversal of Sam. Sarah was taken in for approximately three hours by his charm and face before she realized he too was deeply, deeply weird.
She justified sitting on the edge of the Paul and Darlene, watching her brother and James Barnes spar off about some dumb trivia fact, by deciding it was an anthropological expedition. The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation. She watched Sam watch Barnes take a long pull off his beer. She watched Barnes kick his feet up near Sam’s legs and then draw them back quickly when a current jolted the boat. She watched Barnes’ fingers tap-tap-tap against the edge of the boat, inching closer to Sam’s shoulder before he chickened out and brought his hand back to his own lap. She watched Sam suggest Bucky take his jacket off, ‘unless you plan on sun blinding me with the robocop arm.’ She watched Sam look away when Barnes did shrug his jacket off.
When she was seventeen and Sam was fifteen, she had found Sam crying in his room, pillow pressed to his face to muffle the noise. They were at the age where going into each other’s rooms uninvited started international conflicts, but Sarah, who watched her brother intently, felt like she knew what was going on. So she let herself in through their Jack-and-Jill bathroom and shut the door behind her.
Sam didn’t stop crying, not even to yell at her to get out, so she sat on the end of his bed and rolled a baseball under her foot for a while. Finally, she’d said, “You don’t have to tell Mom and Dad, y’know.”
Sam had just about wailed and bit the corner of his pillow to stop himself.
“That’s gross, stop it,” Sarah ordered and pushed Sam’s shoulder back enough to yank his pillow free and then reached over to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I should make you do the laundry this week so I know I’m not touching your snot germs,” she teased softly.
“How did you know?” Sam hiccuped out. Tears were still brimming at his eyes, but they didn’t fall.
“I’m your older sister. I made you. Like a doll. You think there’s something about you that I don’t know?” she joked. And when the tears did spill over his long lashes, she sighed and pulled him closer to her side. “I just know the way you interact with that boy from the basketball team ain’t just friendly.”
“Jesus, do you think he can tell?” Sam asked and she could hear the mortification in his voice.
“Sam, he’s a freshman in high school. The only thing he knows is that he’s scared of everything too. No one’s paying that much attention to you.”
“Screw you,” Sam muttered.
“What’re all these tears for you if you didn’t make a move and get shot down?”
“God, Sarah, can you not say things like that?”
“Watch your mouth,” Sarah warned with no heat in her voice. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I’m not leaving until you do.”
“I just…” Sam sat up and worked his jaw for a while. His chin dimpled and his eyes watered but he managed to control himself. “I’m scared, Sarah. I’m scared of never being in love. Of having to leave if I am. I’m scared to say something and I’m scared not to say something. I’m so scared of...losing any of it.”
“Sam,” Sarah sighed and pulled Sam into another hug. “You’re fifteen. You’re not supposed to be in love yet. You don’t have to think about any of that. You just have to focus on passing Geometry, alright? Mom’ll whoop your ass more for failing than anything else.”
“I have a B+, that’s not failing!” Sam snapped. He kept his face against her shoulder for a second long before he sat up and wiped his tears away. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Who am I gonna tell? I told you, my friends don’t like you as much as you think they do.”
“Your friends like me more than they like you,” Sam shot back and he almost sounded normal.
Sarah smiled softly and patted Sam’s cheek. “I won’t tell Mom or Dad. Of course not. That’s for you to do. But--”
“I’m always going to tell them when you sneak out the window.”
“No! Sam! You can’t! You owe me now!”
“Going to field parties is not the same thing!” Sam said in a shriek as Sarah leaned over to pinch his sides. They grappled for a second before Sam managed to push Sarah off the bed.
“You owe me,” she reminded him as she walked back to the bathroom.
Sam wiped his eyes again and nodded. “Sure, Sarah. I do.”
Sam almost had the same look on his face now. Like there was something he wanted to reach for that he thought was too impossible to hold. The Older Sister Instinct to Antagonize into a Solution kicked in.
“Two bros, chilling on a boat, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,” she sing-songed. Sam looked mortified again but masked his face into something more irritated with a roll of his eyes when Barnes looked over at him.
“Ignore her. It’s this old video--” Sam started.
But Bucky interrupted to say, “Actually I am gay,” as he looked back over at Sarah. “Sorry if I got your hopes up,” he added with a grin that really did get the hopes up.
“What?” Sam asked and Sarah, ever watchful, could see the beer bottle shaking in his hand.
“What?” Bucky repeated innocently.
“He said he’s gay,” Sarah clarified.
“Thank you, Sarah,” Sam ground out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Bucky snorted. “When would I have said anything? ‘Sorry for ripping your wings off and kicking you off of a hellicarrier, by the way I’m gay.’?”
“You did what?” Sarah asked.
“‘Sorry for claiming I didn’t bomb the UN only to be reverted back to the assassin who would have done that and then fighting you again. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Thanks for saving my life. Sorry about the giant undersea prison. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘There’s an imminent battle with weird ass space dogs that want to eat our faces. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Sorry about Tony Stark, whose life I kind of ruined. Lovely funeral. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘I’m in the middle of being pissed at you about the Shield. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Maybe don’t take me rolling through a field of flowers. It does things to me ‘cause I’m gay.’ ‘John Walker’s fucking insane. I’m gay, but definitely not for this bullshit.’ I mean, come on, Sam.”
“Flowers?” Sarah asked.
“Besides, why would you care? I don’t make it a habit of telling straight guys I’m into guys.”
“You don’t seem to make a habit of telling many people that,” Sarah pointed out. “I googled you. Nothing suggesting that came up.”
Bucky shrugged. “I’m a guy from the 30s. It was trained out of me.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Sarah said quickly. “Back up away from that because we’re not gonna try to Oppression Olympics our way through our histories. Did you just say Sam was straight?”
“Sarah!” Sam hissed.
“Sure. I mean, I saw him with Romanov. Hill. He has Tinder on his phone.”
“Samuel Thomas, you better not,” Sarah warned lightly. “You’re better than that.”
“He’s a lady-killer.”
Sarah snorted and had to bring her hand up to her face. “He definitely is not. There has been no lady-killing on his end for a long time.”
“Sarah!” Sam tried again.
“You explain it to him then. Mr. 30s is gonna need the long way round explanation.”
Sam sighed and dragged his hand over his face. “Dammit. Fine. I’m not straight either, alright? I’m...bi, or something. It’s been a while since I’ve had to think about it.”
“What?” Bucky asked, not unlike Sam had.
“He said he’s bisexual. Interested in both parties. Swings either way. Hit a homerun and then hasn’t really swung since.”
“Sarah, Jesus Christ,” Sam groaned.
“What?” Bucky asked again.
“I was engaged. To a man,” Sam said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the irony.
“Oh, it was inconvenient for you but I had plenty of opportunities, huh?” Sam asked. “Ms. Tell-It-All over there wasn’t joking. I haven’t swung any direction in a while. Not since before I met Steve. My fiance died. And then it never came up.”
Bucky blinked at Sam. He kept bringing the bottle halfway up his body and then setting it back on his leg without ever taking a drink. “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry,” Bucky said, which was not what Sarah was expecting and it clearly wasn’t what Sam was expecting because Sam finally moved closer to Bucky on the bench.
“What for? You didn’t do anything. This time.”
“Yeah, but if I’d known you were into me too, I woulda kissed you in Germany.”
“Oh, I am so not into you,” Sam denied. “And I wouldn’t have our first kiss ruined by immediately running into the government’s roving show monkey.”
“That’s the worst,” Bucky agreed and also finally moved over on the bench until they were pressed thigh to thigh. “Tell me how much you don’t like me again,” he challenged.
“I can’t stand you,” Sam answered and brought his hand up to Bucky’s jaw.
Sarah couldn’t fight down the grin that came to her face and turned to prop her feet on the pier, back to Sam and Bucky. Just this once, she didn’t need to watch her brother to understand him.
Read on AO3 here!
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Saw the passive abilities question, so now we have to ask: what passives would all the golds have?
I am SO sorry this took me so long to answer, but here I go!
Of course, I went the "creature the zodiac sign is linked to" way.
Aries:
You know how rams headbutt each other to assert dominance? The Aries Saint has the ability to headbutt people without gaining brain damage as a result.
Well, jokes aside, rams can charge at incredible speed before attacking and have considerable endurance, so maybe the latter is what I can give the Aries Saint as an innate ability?
Fights between rams can last for hours, so I bet the Aries Saint can keep fighting for much longer than a Saint normally can.
Taurus:
Rather than an ability, I would say the Taurus Saint has a tendency of being red-green colorblind, as bulls generally have dichromacy.
In addition to that, I'd say the Taurus Saint is always the strongest, at least on a physical level, because bulls have incredible strength.
Gemini:
Well, I don't know? The gemini zodiac sign literally represents twins, so... I have no idea what kind of ability I could give the Gemini Saint, aside from an innate capability of bickering with their twin.
...
Okay, I'm done joking. Gemini represents Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri, who are known for being excellent hunters and horsemen. With this in mind, I'd say the innate ability of the Gemini Saint is exactly that: riding and hunting.
And this Saint can hunt anything.
Cancer:
...
I thought I had no idea of what do write here, because, well, the constellation is literally just the crab that bit Hercules while he was fighting the Hydra. There's nothing associated with it, save for this fact, and that it was placed among the stars by Hera.
But then I remembered that I'm supposed to take into account the animal itself as well, and crabs? They can themselves so well you can't notice them even if you walk right past their hiding spot.
So this is what the Cancer Saint's ability. Hiding. Which, if you ask me, is an extremely useful ability, no matter how proud the Gold Saints are.
Leo:
I wanted to say "the Leo Saint has the ability to run after a laser pointer" so bad, but then I remembered that one video I watched of lions being completely uncaring of laser pointers so... guess the joke died before existing.
Anyway, the Leo Saint is probably known for ability to deliver short but powerful attacks, just like real lions. They don't have much in terms of stamina - remember, we're still in the superhuman category here - but they are powerful by default. Also, using the Nemean lion to my advantage, I'll say the Leo Saint can't be wounded easily. Just for a silly comparison: if another Saint lands face-first into the ground, there's going to be blood right away; is a Leo Saint lands face-first into the ground, there's still going to be blood right away, but only because Leo would kick in the teeth whoever slammed him on the floor.
Basically, it takes effort to draw blood from a Leo Saint.
Also, a Leo Saint that's also a woman has a more refined hunting instinct, because I watched way too many documentaries in my life and I know that a lioness does 99% of the hunting work and it's better at it.
Virgo:
Does the ability of never getting laid count?
This one is tricky, because Virgo represents Astrea, the celestial virgin and goddess of innocence, purity, and precision. Since these don't really qualify as abilities, I looked into her mythology and remembered that she's closely associated with Earth.
Because of this, I believe the Virgo Saint's ability is to communicate on a deep, spiritual level with the essence of Earth and its creatures. Which is not too far from what's actually depicted in canon, after all.
Libra:
The Libra Saint can always find the perfect balance. Doesn't matter if it's physical or metaphorical, Thanos would die of envy for how perfectly balanced everything is for this Saint.
Aside from this, which is more of a practical ability, the Libra Saint has also the amazing capability of being always able to find loopholes in laws (Libra represents justice and law, so... yeah), and can always know if someone is innocent or guilty.
Scorpio:
Oh, here I go, let me butcher my sign completely.
My first thought was that the Scorpio Saint is actually venomous (god, I hope I used the right word, we only have ONE in Italian for poisonous and venomous). Not like a certain Pisces Saint we know and love, of course.
Just like with Taurus, it's a characteristic and not a passive ability, but I do have something else as well.
And that something else is an ability to survive even in the worst, most dire conditions. Scorpions, unless you straight up crush them under your foot, are extremely difficult to kill. They have a tremendous immune system, they literally don't drown, they can slow down their metabolism when there's no food around, you can freeze them completely and they'll just walk away once thawed, and they can live in harsh climates with no issues.
In light of this, the Scorpio Saint is extremely difficult to kill, and can resist most life-threatening conditions with ease. I'd say is a good passive ability to have, for sure.
Sagittarius:
It goes by itself that the Sagittarius Saint has the innate ability to be absolutely amazing with bow and arrow, but another passive ability they have is horse riding.
Lastly, since the constellation actually represents Chiron, the Sagittarius Saint is an excellent mentor and teacher, better than anyone else.
Capricorn:
Goats can climb near vertical surfaces, and so can the saint of this constellation. It's a really useful ability, especially when it comes to stealthy missions and the like. Alongside this, the Capricorn Saint is probably a really good swimmer, since the constellation is half goat and half fish, although not as good as the Pisces Saint.
Aquarius:
Oh, here we have some troubles.
The Aquarius constellation represents Ganymede, Zeus' freaking cup-bearer. He's a hero, yes, but he's known for having enchanted Zeus enough to gain a place in the Olympus as an immortal.
What does this leave me with?
A Saint that has the air association of the sign, the water association of the constellation, and the fascinating beauty of the myth.
Let's just say that the Aquarius Saint has the perfect mastery over ice (which is canon) because air and water? Come on, it's the only thing I cant think about.
That's the passive ability, an insane control over water and air that translate in mastery of all ice things. Plus the ability to enchant even the gods, because the Pisces Saint is not the only enticing person of the Sanctuary.
Pisces:
I'd say the passive ability of the Pisces Saint is swimming like a mermaid, aka quickly, efficiently, and without needing as much rest as a normal human.
Some powerful Saints can also find themselves able to breathe underwater, but it's a rather rare ability that doesn't show up often, and not many are willing to try breathing underwater just to make sure.
And that's it, since the other somewhat passive ability I love to give every single Pisces Saint (and not only the canon ones) is venomous blood and plant toxins immunity.
I don't know if I nailed or failed this answer. I'm mostly going off of stuff I know out of the top of my head, because I'm a sucker for nature documentaries and documentaries in general, so there might be some stupid things sprinkled here and there.
Doesn't matter.
Once again, sorry for taking so long, and thank you for the interesting ask!
#saint seiya#i cavalieri dello zodiaco#los caballeros del zodiaco#os cavaleiros do zodiaco#knights of the zodiac#gold saints#passive abilities#meta
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watched all of the untamed / cql in two weeks after my friend 1 told me abt mdzs a hundred years ago and my friends 2 and 3 tried to get me into cql for like two whole years and there are.
feelings.
very first scene is a very dramatic death in the middle of nightmare battle on sith planet land . i will forget abt it in the next tenish episodes and then will be very surprised when it becomes Extremely Painful
anyway magic flying gays and possession and human sacrifice! we are off to a great start
in retrospect, chaos goblin wei wuxian must have had a blast pretending to be so cRaZy and be as disruptive as he could as mo xuanyu lbr
listen. why is fire always evil coded. cant a magic clan wear red, black and orange and have flame motif while being wholesome?
For Legal Reasons These Are Not Zombies
i wish the politics of the sect were a bit clearer, especially at the beggining when the wen clan had sm power, was wen ruohan the chief cultivator? is that why they were so slow in responding to the attacks? im v confused by the pre yiling patriarch politics
fighting in the roof by the moonlight as way of flirtiiiiiiing. as i understand this is a wuxia/xianxia trope and honestly...... thank u for ur service
slight bullying and being a nuisance in general, as a way of flirting we love to see it
wwx: if i drink on the rooftop, thats not inside the cloud recesses! hmmm check and mate :D lwj: i will fuck u up so help me god wwx: :0
i lov them
through hell or high water (quite literally) wei wuxian rem ains a trashfire gremlin till the end and i love him with my whole heart
in the pt subs wei wuxian calls jiang cheng a stubborn duck and i dearly wish that had come back
my opinions on almost every character goes from love to hate u - Hmm Me Like U - BABY. ILY. and i am Very Pleased w that. its been a while since i loved such a complete cast so much i think
no really. i WONT go into a detailed rant abt what i love about each of these characters and each of their relationships to each other. but i COULD.
some lan disciples in the loudest whisper ever: YEAH THATS THE JIN BASTARD MENG YAO HEARD THE GOT SUPER HUMILIATED BY HIS DAD LOL SURE HOPE HE DOESNT TAKE SLIGHTS TO HIS CHARACTER TO HEART
lan xichen, immediately: i must Love him
being into problematic ppl is in the Lan genetics, we come to realize
wen qing deserves so many awards for so many things but not snapping and just stabbing wen chao is at the top
that scene at lan qirens class where wwx talks about using resentful energy to fight a violent spirit. exquisite.
It establishes Good Student lan wangji, wei wuxian as curious and questioning and not afraid of taboo, lwj sees that wwx is not, in fact, a dumb ass hes just a Dumbass, shows us the audience (esp. a western audience) how shocking the idea of disrupting the dead/dying and controlling resentful energy actually is, the theoretical foreshadow arguing, everyone else like ‘shUT UP’, “and how could you ensure that the resentful energy would obey you and not hurt other?” “well i havent thought that far” and of course, lan qiren just straight up lobbing a hard object at wwx head,. chefs kiss
fellas is it gay to bother the hot rule obessessed nerd from ur school and make drawings of him with flowers in his hair and then hide gay porn in his book to antagonize him and ask him to hold ur hand and be ur friend and talk to him all the time and get him drunk and give him bunnies bc you know he likes them and give him a lantern and always want his attention and dedicate yourself to getting him to smile-
and after all of that wwx rly said oh i Admire him, aksd like yeah we all were there in high school buddy
i have Learned. caves = gay.
accidental marriage +beint physically tied together with the sacred married ribbon+ gay panic+foreshadowing+bunnies! in the cave (1)
the story abt lan yi and baoshan sanren tho. i would like to see it
early days wen bros pull my heart strings like a guqin
EVERYTHING about the lantern scene; disaster hets jiang yanli and jin zixuan; how wwx made lwj a bunny lantern. how soft and touched lwj was. wwx gleefully pointing out he was smiling and lwj IMMEDIATELY PULLING HIW SWORD ON HIM LMAO. tragically foreshadowy promises to do right by pepople, living without regrets. lwjs 'oh no do i love him??' face. just. all of it.
i have it on good acc that in the novel lwj is explicitly Repressed Gay Panicked Big Horny which is delightful and rly Adds to the performance
baby lwj is really just conceal dont feel dont let them know u have EMOTIONS (derogatory)
jiang cheng rly went "why dont.u go play with HIM if u like him so much"
jc and wwx have big BIG annoying sibling energy dont think too hard abt it or youll cry
lotus pier is soo pretty :((((((((((((((((
up until episode 13 you could think this could be a magical ancient chinese gays pride n prejudice w swords and shenanigans ................youre just not prepared for the game of thrones of it all
seriously ha ha ha i cried so much w this show my eyes genuinely swelled up . like. physically. fun timez fun timez
that being said, its hilarious that wen xu goes to cloud recesses like 'come out or ill kill all these hostages' and then DOESNT WAIT FOR AN ASWER AND KILLS THEM ALL IMMEDIATELY. do u know how blackmail works sir
would like to make it recorded that from day one i was like 'CALL A GODDAMN CULTIVATION G20 THIS ASSHOLE SECT IS LITERALLY MASSACRING YALL!!' and it took them like 3 or 4 massacres to do anything and they STILL sent their heirs into their territory LIKE
when wwx cites the gusu lan rules to wen chao tho. that rebel/attention whore/cutie pie 'look lan zhan i DID memorize the rules after all' ‘also a big fuck you to the wen sect :D :D’ sweet spot that scene achieves . delicious
all the cultivator young masters being petty af even though they are practically prisoners at the cave is hilarious and i love them
hurt and comfort + gay mistunderstandings + watsonian gay declaration music + accidental evil acquisition! at the cave (2)
its like where do i start? the fact theyre both trapped and kind of heavily injured inside an isolated cave with a murder turtle? wwx gay panicking lwj into coughing up bad blood? lwj being jealous as wwx babbles abt mianmian? telling him he shouldnt play with people and wwx saying he never played him? wwx going Oh. I See what is happening. YOU like mianmian, and lwj absolute done face ??? (iconic) wwx touching the sacred married ribbon Again? the telepathic communication? the sword? WEI WUXIAN ASKING LAN WANGJI TO SING TO HIM AS HE IS PASSING OUT AND LWJ SINGING HIM. THE SONG. HE WROTE. FOR WWX. AND THAT HE CALLED. THEIR SHIP NAME????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
they are SO insufferable pleeeeease
in the words of my friend 1 : “CQL is so gay we were all amazed how it got past the censors Ofc unfortunately it can't be novel level gay But they did their best And we love them for it”
in the theme of songs THIS OST. WUJI HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY MIND RENT FREE SINCE I FIRST HEARD IT the whole ost is so so sO beautiful.
the costuming in this is also soooo exquisite. the embroidery? the fabrics? the details? how every sect and clan has a distinct style and architecture? (also ik they based each off of dif periods in chinese history which is REALLY fucking cool) just chefs kiss
the direction too!. i enjoy the unusual camera movements and i think they give it that Vibe, also their composition is PARTICULARLY good when it comes to telling the subtext through position of camera/position of character (like nhs off to the side in scenes he at first glance doesnt need to be/ how lwj is often centered when hes Jealous Yearning at wwx being affectionate w other ppl, wwx return from burial mounds etc)
ik madam yu is like Badass Milf Check and shes not getting any mom of the year awards but im delighted at how messy she is. IMAGINE that woman on tiktok
you better have enjoyed gay cave (2) bc its Just Pain from here on out!
jiang fengmian and madame yu win the Most Dramatic Way to show they do care about each other, actually ..... ever :)
i thought jiang yanli jiang cheng and wei wuxian forcing themselves to escape yunmeng barely holding on after their parents are killed was going to be the height of pain in this show. ha.
the family dynamics in general on this showwwww, both blood/ adopted/ found families, brotherly bonds and lifelong friendships just. rly. truly. fucked me up. theyre all so important and complicated and well rounded and beautiful and tragic
and beyond being a Win For the Gays im so glad the relationships w wwx and jiang yanli/ wen qing were NOT changed from platonic bc they are so much better like that imo. like maybe if we didnt Live In A Society it wouldnt be so, but the fact wwx and others can love and value them so much and theres nothing romantic or sexual abt it is like. so refreshing. especially @ jyl, with the way he and jc are overprotective of her and shes such a nurturing/care taker figure for them, it would just not vibe as well if they made it romantic
i love that this is a story abt Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch aka Actual Satan/Boogey Man/Village With/Public Enemy Number One , my dude is literally a necromancer who only dresses in black and has evil smokey black tendrils wafting out of him, but the really edgy one is still jiang cheng, pastel purple fashion icon
and speaking of best/worst siblings wei wuxian and jiang cheng *immediately starts crying*
The Golden Core Transfer i just. no thots only tears
wen qing and wen ning putting themselves in so much danger just.... to help them. wn saving jc from wen chao. wq finding a way to get wwx to transfer his core. like thinking about the monumental work these two did to help wwx and jyl and jc... jyl trying so fucking hard to be strong and keep on moving and giver her little brothers comfort after losing everything... jiang cheng. losing his parents and his home and his ability to do anything abt it and his complete desperation and lack of self worth and turning on them with agression when he didnt realize all that they did for him ... hhhhhhhhhhhhh
me, pointing at the whole cast “i just LOVE them mom!!!”
its sad tho, that BARELY ANY of the women have like.... actual important conversations let alone relationships with each other at all in the story. and like wq and jyl have stayed at the same place for extended periods of time, where wq actively took care of her TWICE, and still! not one measly convo, nothing! ................ .𝓌ₕᵧ
everyone in this show need a good sip of Self Worth and Stop Sacrificing Yourself juice
ngl the sword flying looks very dumb
“a-cheng, please bring a-xian back.” “i will, i promise.” ;-;
the whole calling each other by the More Intimate Version of the name, first as teasing and later as true intimacy. mmmhmmm yes
untamed where everythings the same but wwx evil flute song is eoeo
related that scene when wwx comes back from the burial mounds for the first time w demonic cultivation and he acts all formal and calls lwj hanguang-jun and keeps being evasive and distant and mean and soooooo................. facetious
and how hes kind of desperately trying to keep intense lwj at bay (A FIRST) and avoiding actually talking to either of them and its all tension ughhh and then he MOCKS his and lwjs relationship, he jokes w him in this like... mean echo of their usual ~banter~ oof
and like!!! uncertain but so relieved jc who just HUGS him w no reservations for once and its not like he isnt just as worried as lwj abt wwx and what hes doing, but he chooses in that moment to enjoy getting him back first and mmhmMMMmMm yes (maybe my favorite scene in the whole show? MAYBE SO. )
highkey hurt me but also. i might be into mean wwx. i will take no criticism.
lan zhans sad eyes tho :(((((((((
on one hand i wish we could have seen what happened at the burial mounds but on the other the timeskip adds so much flair to his return so im hnnn
also i love that hes been missing for 3 months reappears kinda melancholic and bloodthirsty and knowing malign tricks and jc is like 'so. are u sad bc of lan wangji'
when ur bae survived the war but he thinks ur evil/ might be evil so you cant kiss :///
hmmm talking at the rooftop under the moonlight not mentioning everything that stands between usssss
they are the two jades of lan and we’ll be the two heroes of yunmeng is the type of line u dont even need to know whats gonna happen to know thats gonna be sad
when they fight wen ruoshan at the nightless city i thought that was the battle we see at the first ep and its not and its so easy and theyre all like ‘yayy we won go wwx!’ i was just. SCREAMS WHAT is gonna HAPPEN
so like. post burial mounds/sunshot campaign pre yiling patriarch wwx is like. ultra arrogant, ultra mocking, peak lil shit and it gave me e v e r y t h i n g i wanted
even tho having the wen prisoners at the targets at phoenix mountain and still having wwx and jzx shooting the arrows was???? so.... tone deaf
wwx: fucking w demonic energy jyl: he has never done anything wrong in his life, ever <3 <3 (mood)
the parallels between meng yao/wei wuxian (and even xue yang a bit?) are Seen and they are Valid
wwx post burial mounds: can yall SHUT UP abt the goddamn sword (suibian left the chat)
LIKE truly, we talk abt the angst and yearning with wangxian. but what abt wwx and suibian. xianbian / xianqing angst and comfort 100k
take a shot everytime someone coughs up blood
zidian is simply the coolest spiritual weapon rip to suibian and chenqing and bichen and sendou and baixa........ but tis the truth
cons: everyones families died in a nightmare war! everyones homes burned to the ground! everyone is traumatized! pros: everyone gets cooler clothes and weapons!!
wen ning and a-yuan and yanli bestest babes squad dont touch me rn
everyone: brooding and fighting wq and jyl: why dont you try some acupunture/drinking some soup and calm down huh? how abt that bitch??
showing the battle/massacre at the nightless city first was genius actually bc then everytime we have a cute scene w yunmeng bros and theyre like 'we'll be together forever! uwu' youre like oh. oh no. oh no no no.
justice vs lawfulness vs means and ends 👁
jc: stay in the right path and practice the art of the sword wx: yeah thats not gonna happen chief
my reaction to wwx renouncing to the sect politics to help the wens was just that elmo burning gif in succession
the dramatic rain. wen qing desperately calling out to wen ning. the ghosts/puppets killing the guards. how terrifying wn actually was while wwx was controlling him :( lwj goeing after him to try and stop him and then he just; he Sees him and understands him even if he cant actually do anything about it other than let them go.
“there must be somewhere in this earth we can go to :(((((((((”
"IF I HAVE TO FIGHT THEM, I'D RATHER IT BE YOU. DYING BY YOUR HANDS WOULD AT LEAST BE WORTH IT." oh my god oh my god oh my goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooddddddd
also lwjs umbrella is white w black smoke.. . . nice
yiling patriarch / demonic farming burial mounds settlement is like one of my favorite concepts. they an "EVIL" FARMING COMMUNITY LED BY THE VILLAGE WITCH COME ON
they planted TURNIPS and LOTUS FLOWERS and ONE (1) baby and made lanterns and a common hall :(((((((
wen qing and wei wuxian, baddest bitches and genius science best friends i absolutely LOVED to see it. they rly went ‘is anyone gonna sibling/project partner that’ and didnt wait for an answer
both wwx and jyl getting lotus ponds at the burial mounds and in lanling bc they miss lotus pier ;;;;;;;w
;;;;; wish jyl had actually gone into the burial mounds. we were robbed of jyl and wq meeting again and jyl meeting a-yuan and seeing the settlement and the homes and all ;w; at least jc did go, stab wounds and broken arms and all
wwx like... having thrown his whole life away to help the wens (yeah the sect leaders and jin guangshan in particular wanting his stygian tiger amulet was an Element but still) and not.... necessarily regretting it, but grappling with all of the consequences of it... becoming moody and drepressed at times, missing his family and lotus pier and his friends and probably simply missing being around people and causing trouble, extrovert that he is, lashing out at the wens and at a-yuan, just in general the whole messiness of that experience
the way the resentful energy does affect his temperament is rly nice bc its not too in your face,(i mean outside of the Shaky Hands of Rage) but like he clearly has a much lesser control on his anger and impulsivity (tall order) than both before bm and after hes ressurected
on that note A-YUAN BABIEST BABY BOY BEST BOY
lan zhan being like oh hey there wei ying fancy meeting u and our son here. just passing by u know how it is hmmmmMm and then PLOT TWIST having defied orders to go see him and being punished for it. oof;;
they habent seen each other in like? a year? and now theyre tgt 10 seconds and are already parenting a child together
also lwj rly kneels down in the snow way too much to be healthy
wwx: calm down guyssss i wont lose control of demonic cultivation omgggg . spoiler alert: he loses control of demonic cultivation
did u enjoy cute children? good bc now the Real Pain Begins
jiang yanli and jin zixuan rly out there APROPRIATING both disaster gays AND bury ur gays huh ;w;
i KNEW jin lings birthday was gonna fuck something up but the GASP that left my body when wwx lost control of wn and killed jin zixuan .. . .
im sorry and thank you aaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAaAAAAA
when wen ning and wen qing were telling wwx their plan i was saying NO NO NO NO NO NO out loud in despair
also can we talk abt how wq is definetely talking about only the both of them surrending themselves but then? everyone else just surrenders w them? IT MAKES NO SENSE LIKE WHY WOULD THEY what would be the Point
sometimes there are some pretty gaping jumps in logic and continuity that are just like ? ?
wwx: oh so when you try to murder me its justified but when i survive through dark magic and murder all of you its a "war crime"
unsurprisingly, his most feral, most spiraling moment talking to the sect leaders on the roof and attacking them and even fighting lan zhan is among my favorite scenes... its like, so painful to watch but also so thrilling (and maybe my wen bbs dying arose some resentful energy in me what can i say)
and its JUST, all they ever wanted was to do good but then... war. and trauma. and hubris.
jiang cheng on the ground clearly thorn between what to do and feel is a Mood, lets just say
i was already crying when jyl showed up, but if i wasnt-
i suffered SO MUCH through this series trying to figure out WHY jc would kill wwx. and when i understood. its somehow not as bad as i thought and also MUCH MUCH WORSE
a look into my group chat during the last flashback episodes:
SO ANYWAY. after the BLOOD BATH and RIPPING YOUR HEART OUT and FEEDING IT TO YOU the untamed goes ‘ayy back to the present!! tu du dud ud du’
literally it ends a quarter into an episode and then KEEPS GOING i had to pause and stare blankly at the ceiling for an hour
babie cultivators and detective soulmates . i do need some cute after All of That
(not that the pain is over LOL)
lwj is significantly less emotionally repressed in the present and its delightful. hes just ALL IN with wwx. and not just in the ‘i would and have killed various men and risked my reputation for you’ but also ‘ur tired here have a drink i brought it up cause i know u like it and it want you to be happy, always’
“when everyone praised me and wanted my power, you were the only one that challenged me. now that everyone hates me and wants me dead, youre the only one that stands by my side.” hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
and just filling in the blanks how lan zhan searched for him. for all of those 16 years he searched for him and was punished for it and raised a-yuan, the only survivor of the burial mounds settlement, as his own in gusu......
and jiang cheng. being the tough love uncle . having raised the yunmeng jiang clan from the rubble all alone, his whole family dead, some of it on the blame of his own brother, his siblings, his closest friends gone.......and only jin ling there needing his guidance.
THE PARALLEL BETWEEN JIN LING BEING A LIFELINE FOR JIANG CHENG AND A-YUAN FOR LAN WANGJI AFTER THE BATTLE AT THE NIGHTLESS CITY
great now i made myself sad
and like . the fact! that lwj and jc dislike each other!!. jc projects blame onto him for wwx both “leaving” him and indirectly causing their families deaths and when hes so consumed by it he makes wwx an enemy, lwj is there now? trying to protect him?? and lwj, who can never understand the pain that wwx , indirectly or not put jc through, but who was right there when jc tried to kill him and will never allow him to hurt wwx again. and how they like. in a way project blame of their tragedies onto each other while dealing with some type of survivor guilt and in their own way still loving wwx through it all??? amd in way its kind of fundamentally selfish but also tragically understandable? and like when u put it against the fact that after he disappears during the sunshot campaign they were looking for him together and fought together??
JUST. THE CHARACTERS. AND THE RELATIONSHIPS IN THIS. MAN. UGH. GOD.
and like i think thats what makes it so good? its such a sad and painful and violent story, edgy even, but its compelling bc at the center of it there are all of these relationships and different types of love and hope and. :( i love it
enough crying lets talk abt wwx sleeping at the jingshi with lwj and wearing his under garment for a minute 🙏
jin ling just has that Was Raised by JC energy tho lmao i love him
babie cultivator squad is the perfect ammount of cute and comedic relief while still bearing the weight? of the narrative in a way, both from sizhui and jin lings existences, and also. like. how do i put this. they feel hopeful? they were born after a war, they came of age at a time of relative peace, they dont hold on so closely to the resentments of their parents/father figures, they are specifically shown as more accepting and open minded. and its like.... Hope for the future
one of the ?? things i love the most is the fact that the main cast are often in situations where theyre hunted/running but they like. never wear disguises... just going around in their gorgeous expensive clan clothes and hair ornaments and distinctive spiritual weapons.... maybe w a straw hat on, just for kicks
wwx teacher 🥺🥺🥺
so this is why its called Yi City Misery huh
a-qing is such. an icon. im so sad. my girl even knew to leave xys dumb self rotting by the road but no one listens to her thats why theyre all dead or sad
her and xue yang measuring each other up was so entertaining lmao
its the funniest thing when hes like. HERES MY SAD STORY. FOR WHY IM A SADISTIC MURDERER. I BROKE MY HAND ONCE.
like ok someone broke his hand in a horrible way, and like Poverty, i get it but also like.......... that lost the brunt of a proper sob story like, 50 sadistic murders ago bby
and i love that xingchen does not entertain that for a second hes like ‘not ?????? good enough???’ and the best thing is he wasnt even like 'u hadto be the bigger person' or sth but ' well then break that dudes hand back, rip his arm off for i care, what do the rest of us have to do w anything???”
anjo sensato :(
xue yang is like..... the sexy sadistic evil version of a himbo..... a meanbo...
the fucked upness of xy’s feelings for xxc/ xxc and sl feelings for each other... like my dude literally gave his bf HIS EYES. and xy getting so attached to xxc .... the fucked up fake domesticity.... having him hurt sl..... then desperately trying to bring him back ...................... oof
song lan........... literally had his eyes AND tongue removed, his bfs eyes put in place, was almost killed, turned into a puppet by his bf unknowingly, manipulated by xy, sees his bf killing himself in despair.... and STILL finds the strenght to get up from there, and keep on traveling and helping people and attempting to fix xxcs soul.......... like, my man. damn.
wangxian looking at songxiao and seeing an Actually more painful parallel for themselves. ft. that Color Coding.
THE A-YUAN/SIZHUI REVEAL PUNCHED ME IN THE HEART but in a good way for a change
should have know that he would be the Best Boy the cute one w all the braincells
the butterfly AND the bunny lantern. i see how it is
u know is very convenient that no one can see the stark black veins on wen nings neck, ever
BAT WEN NING
wns face when lwj comes into wwx room like ‘:0 omg did u two finally get your shit together? good for you master wei good for u’
(they didnt) (yet)
DISASTER DRUNK LWJ. JUST. THRUST SOME CHICKENS TO SHOW UR RESSURECTED BAE THAT U LOVE THEM.
i have absolutely no idea WHY they gave lwj the same punishment for fighting his own sect/allies to protect the burial mounds as when they got drunk on cloud recess class days.... like? its such a ... emotional continuity error again
also is lwj gonna get an actual friend besides wwx , ever
mianmian marrying and having a family and a cute life after saying FUCK U AND UR SYSTEM TOO in a much less unhinged and dramatic way than wwx......... fills me w joy
also lol the idea that like. her husband not knowing that shes friends w satan/the boogey man/the village witch is hilarious
i love nie mingjue bc hes the resident Though Guy but also the most dramatic bitch in this show and thats Saying Something
jin ling cant have one uneventful relative can he
the fact that everyone present already knew “mo xuanyu” was wwx at the stairs is so funny, their faces are like ‘oh............ wow. that. sure is a development. shock”
in the tradition of extremely loud whispers wwx tells lwj with twelve guards standing like one meter away from them: HEY PSH LAN ZHAN PRETEND IM FORCING YOU TO STAY W ME DO IT
oh my god oh my god
the absolute Yearning on his face when he leaves wwx and a-yuan at the burial mounds and refuses to stay for dinner was already Enough but the fact?? they brought it back?? to this declaration of love?? their expressions??????? strike me dead right now just go ahead
lFor Legal Reasons We Cant Kiss but we will have a very sappy declaration of love and trust and look at each other in way that is the actualization of 💞💘💗💖💓💘💞💗💖💘💗💖💕💞
also icb all the sect leaders and guards are standing there watching them say they like like each other with a dozen swords pointing at their neck
i enjoyed the depiction of the fickle public perception and how easily it can be used to scapegoat people. when the sect leaders turn on jgy and wwx knows thats its more for convenience than anything else...
poor lxc is literally like 'oh so when YOUR problematic boyfriend gets called evil its a misunderstanding but when its MY problematic bf-'
ok like i cant get over nmj let jgy play a song that messed with his temperament at all, like maN u KNEW he might be shady wth
wwx: “hey dont say anything bad abt lan zhan hes not an arrogant dick, thats just his face.
ME ON THE OTHER HAND"
the cultivators as wwx is poking holes in their narrative is literally *nazaré meme*
"wei wuxian-!" "what did i break your leg, too?" not to be problematic but i laughed so hard
not as hard as "you dont have the rank to talk to me " tho
i Enjoy that, over the course of story, wwx sees that... theres nothing truly to Do, but move on. he saw how his arrogance and his mistakes hurt others, and hes trying to fix what he can, but he already did die for his mistakes and there are things he cant fix and that's. just how it is. even towards jgy, the narrative doesn't go gleefully and completely with "lets make THEM pay bc theyre the big bad" bc its not that simple, and it wouldn't lead anywhere but more pain...
re him and jiang cheng and the wens and kinda. isnt that what nhs did? scheming to displace jgy out of revenge more than any justice and doing so in the most painful way?
idk if that actually makes sense im truly just babbling
i thought the scene at the lotus pond would be CUTE but the context was PAIN again
jiang cheng finding out about his golden core and his conflict with wwx at the guanyin temple .... destroyed me but in a nice way kinda.... same way it destroys him look at his face oh god
and. the fact??? he sacrificed himself for wwx?? first?? and he'll probably never tell anyone much less wwx???? keeps me up at night
i havent decided if the neckbreak transition between jgy does sth super Evil or does he he does OR Does He yes he does O R does heeeee is sth i dislike or not
jin guangyao and wei wuxians most interesting parallel is that... theyve both seen 'hmm hey this system is fucked up' and wwx went 'so fuck it all i will renounce it and challenge it' and jgy went 'so fuck it i will use all of it to my advantage and manipulate it to my goals and whims'
the fact jgys mom was actually great and he loved her and his whole issue w it was more than simply being ashamed of being a bastard kinda got me ngl
never trust a dude with a fan.
nhs and jgy: the first rule to a convoluted and decades spanning violent revenge plot is to have fun and be yourself!
when a-yuan finally FINALLY remembers ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;-;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; wen ning has someone in his family back and a-yuan has someone to talk abt his wen family and wwx has him back bc he survived and lwj raised him anD HES THEIR SON. THEYRE MARRIED AND HAVE A SON. UGH.
and theyre allowed to heal. everyone is allowed to try and recover and be happy
netflix put all of the 3 endings on top of each other and it looks kinda weird actually BUT I DONT EVEN MIND :’’’’’’’’’)
the gasp that left me when lwj says ‘wei ying’ and wwx turns.........
there was also a screen with ‘thank you mxtx for creating these characters, we hope their wishes come true’ and i might. have cried then too. maybe.
that was . a ride. as is proven by this behemot of a ramble clearly i just really needed and Outlet. i am currently trying to convince dumb monkey brain to not consume the other medias of mdzs immediately bc i REALLY need to like. live. a life. and take care of real responsibilities. *longest oh boi ever*
#m.#ANYWAY#ENOUGH TALKING#THIS IS SO LONG#LOL#but whatever this is MY performative journaling i do what i want#rambling impressions abt what i watch is a thing i do now? apparently??#cql#untamed#the untamed#fun fact that chat is named 'k keeps on babbling abt the untamed' and it STILL wasnt enough#also it took me 15 episodes to realize lwj was yibo#IT WAS V SHOCKING#i did not recognize him at a l l#but in retrospect he WAS the perfect choice
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In a Week
Part 3/4 - Snowballs and cigarettes
(Frankie Morales x f!reader)
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Summary: The snows finally stopped and its about time you got to work unburying your car. With your friends all prompting you to move on from your toxic ex you find yourself becoming more and more aware of the kind of person you’d want to be with. And how Frankie was ticking all those boxes.
Authors notes: Ugh okay I was over the max block text so the finale is split into two parts!! But you get them both tonight💕🌻💕 .
Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, allusions to sex (nothing depicted), PTSD, smoking, drinking, swearing
Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi
Word count: 4.0k
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Day 4
It had only been three days but you had found yourself in a routine that you hoped you never fell out of. Each morning he’d wake up first and you’d be predictably wrapped around him for another 2 hours or so. He found it hard to believe you were able to wake up before 10am, let alone that you were up at 5am most days but he’d love to be around to see it happen. For the first time, he saw something he’d long given up on. A future with someone else ingrained into his and his daughters life. Maybe it was stupid feeling this way after a few days, but he was old enough to know when he felt a real connection, and he’d never felt as good as he did when he was with you. He would make his feelings known to you, one way or another, he’d regret it forever if he let you slip through his fingers. He just had to find the right time to do it. It had been a long time since you’d woken up with someone in the same bed as you and even longer since the person was someone who made you feel safe and secure. There was something calming about knowing that even if you pushed your freezing cold feet between his calves in the middle of the night he wouldn’t get angry, or push you off he’d just grumble and pull you closer.
It sounded pathetic but it was the nicest a guy had been to you in years. You knew how stupid it was to catch feelings this fast, and it definitely wasn’t like you to feel such strong emotions. Since the funeral you had actively decided to forego them although. This benefited your work, helped you in your field, made you a better doctor, but keeping all your emotions bottled up took its toll. Primarily on your love life. You’d had your fair share of flings with other residents, nurses, friends of friends, but between classes and shift work there wasn’t time. Plus what was the point when you had no idea where you’d be moved to. At least that’s what you told yourself. Then Jonathan came along and you’d let him in, let him know you and you fell for him in the process. Then he’d started dating someone else, told you he didn't realize you were exclusive, and it shattered you completely. You’d pieced yourself back together and once you were better, once you were finally over him, he’d cycle back round to you, determined to keep you on retainer. The whole ordeal had left you tired. You’d never had a real relationship and you were already done with them. You never understood how people would want to live with someone for the rest of their lives until now. Catching feelings had always happened in periphery to your life making it easy to push by a crush by simply avoiding them, but you couldn’t avoid Frankie. Each day you spent trapped inside with him he’d continued to grow on you, cementing your feelings for him tenfold. You yawn and stretch your leg out over Frankies torso propping yourself up onto your elbow so you can reach over him and grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He exhales as if your movement across him is an inconvenience to his meticulous strategy for winning whatever game he was playing on his phone. You take a sip and put the cup back down, rolling off the bed and opening the curtains.
“Hey!” you shout, causing Frankies head to shoot over to you, “It stopped snowing!” you exclaim, gazing out over the parking lot where the snow had fallen. The powder undulating overtop the cars buried beneath it. You stretch your arms up catching an unsavoury whiff coming from your armpits causing you to pull a face. Turning around just in time to see Frankie laughing from the bathroom door.
“Seriously man? Do you have to beat me to everything!” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Gotta be faster sweetheart.” he says, closing the door behind him. From anyone else the term would have driven you into a rage induced frenzy, but it was endearing not condescending coming from him. You take the time to call Stella, you’d been texting with her since you got stuck but you felt it was time to officially announce your arrival as permanently cancelled.
“Hey girl”
“Hey babe what's going on? You calling with good or bad news?” she asks, a constant bustle evident in the background.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, but only bad news on my end. I am so fucking sorry, I should have just flown down like you said” you offer, leaning back against the window allowing the chill of the outside to cool you off.
“Well this is why you should always listen to me, but i’ll forgive you just this once.” she laughs.
“God I can’t believe the one wedding I actually care about I’m going to miss!” you exasperated, shifting away from the window and flopping down onto the bed.
“Well I definitely won’t miss you, especially considering you’ve already sent a gift.” she teases.
“How, very dare you” you punctuate.
“Yup long con paid off, 10 years I pretended to like you just to get you to buy me a toaster from ebay” Stella laughs.
“You could have just stolen mine after the first year, then you could have had me gone!” you state.
“Ugh a huge mistake!!” she overemphasizes dramatically, causing you both to burst out laughing.
“So….” you say after your giggles subside leaving a gentle ache in your ribs that always occurred when you talked to Stella.
“What?” she asks, sniffling.
“ Did John make it out there?” you ask, in a painfully transparent way.
“Why?” she spits, her tone suddenly lethal. She hated the guy, she was the one who was always left dealing with you after he’d used you up, helping to piece you back together, just in time for him to get a hold on you again.
“He asked about me?” you query, once again failing to convey your intentions.
“I’m not indulging this anymore, it's bad for you. He’s bad for you, there's only so many times I can watch him emotionally manipulate you” she rants.
“Ya, but it's easy and it's so good with him.” you emphasize.
“It’s not easy, take it from someone in an easy relationship, it's not supposed to hurt that much.” she chides, determined to have you see the light.
“But..”
“Nope, I'm drawing the line for you, find someone else. You’re a gorgeous single doctor,
“Almost doctor” you interrupt, but the statement is ignored.
“Aren’t you currently shacked up with one of my stupid brothers friends?”
“Yes? And?” you say, your heart suddenly beating faster as your head turns to see Frankies hat on the nightstand.
“Frankie right? Statue like, soft curls, kind, deep brown eyes? And don’t pretend like you didn’t notice I know you like the back of my hand!”
“So what if I have, doesn't mean..” you whisper, not wanting him to hear you.
“Nope, don’t sell yourself short, I say get cozy with him and finally move on from dickhead McGee, even if it's just for a night, cleanse the palette. Besides, you know he’ll be doing whoever looks his way at my wedding.” you hear a muffled shout “alright I have to go, something about the bridesmaids fighting.”
“Your sisters? Fighting? Who could have seen that coming” you deadpan.
“I know, god I wish you were here.”
“I wish I was as well i'll call tomorrow in case you get cold feet, I have a five point plan”
“I won't” she chimes.
“ I know because you love her”
“And I also love you” she says
“And I love you” you respond before hanging up. Not even a minute after hanging up you get a call from Santiago
“Hey, I just wanted to verbally apologize for trapping you with ‘Fish, though he's definitely one of the better ones to get stuck with.” he says.
“Well that’s good to know” you laugh, rolling your eyes.
“He hasn’t tried anything has he? If he has I'll kill him, and get away with it, you'll have to help me with the body but...” Santiago starts.
“Santi, it's fine he's cool, really sweet, actually,” you offer heat rushing to your face for some unknown reason.
“Good. He touches you ill..” he warns.
“You’ll kill him ya I got it!” you snap, you understood why Santiago felt like he had to play big brother for you but sometimes he was a touch overbearing. “Is John there?” you try and ask casually, failing to head Stellas advice.
“Don’t...” Santi starts, you can practically hear his jaw clench over the phone “you know if I see him tonight i'm gonna knock him out for how he treats you”
“It wasn’t that bad.” you whisper.
“It was, still is, I heard him bragging about how if worse comes to worse he always has his plan D,” he offers, not to hurt you but to try and free you from the cycle.
“That dick. You know what Stellas right, fuck him!” you exclaim with a newfound determination to rid him from your life.
“Oh my god, are you finally seeing the light?” Santi asks “Praise the lord!” He shouts up into the sky.
“Ya I guess so” you say staring at Frankie as he dries his hair with the towel. “I gotta go, see you soon.”
“Not soon enough” he laughs as you hang up.
“Whose that?” Frankie asks, still curious about who you’d been hoping to see at the wedding and what they’d done to earn your affection.
“Pope!” you say with a smile, pushing your back off the bed and sitting up.
“Threatening to kill me?” Frankie predicts.
“Ya we have a plan” you murmur.
“We?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye and his mouth upturned at the sides.
“Well he'll kill you but, I cant have him go to jail so i'll have to hide your body.” you explain
“Good glad that got sorted” he says, his smile now in full effect.
“I'll go grab some breakfast” you say.
“No ill get it, you’re always getting it, plus gives you time to shower, I can smell you from here.” He prods, grabbing the key.
“Rude!” you yell out after him.
He's back when you exit the shower
“Oh thank you, you say grabbing the plate form him”
“Just what the doctor ordered, hey?” he asks, smiling stupidly big.
“Ouuuf that that was bad truly apologize to me” He laughs at how serious your face gets “You're laughing? I had to listen to that joke and you're laughing?” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “Here's something that'll wipe that stupid smile off your face, snow stops which means we have to clear off my car.”
“Using the royal we are we?” he asks
“Think of it as repayment for the pun,” you say waving your fork in his face
“How will we be clearing it off?” he asks, leaning over the counter.
“Brush” you say, as if it's obvious
“Where's the brush?” he asks, resting his chin on the back of his hands and smiling sweetly at you, waiting for an answer.
“In the….oh” you say, face dropping when you realize that the brush was in the car currently buried under a snow pile.
“Not so smart now” he laughs pushing back off the counter taking your empty plate with him, washing it up for you.
“Well I guess we just have to get to the door with our hands then” you say smiling.
“Once again, about this we,” he says, drying his hands on the dish towel, turning to see a dramatic pout plastered across your face.
“Fine, I'll only help because I think you may disappear in the snow if you go in alone” he responds, the truth was, he couldn't deny you.
You both get dressed into the most winter proof clothes you had, neither of you having packed for a snowy expedition. As you exit the room you see him grab a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding, not wanting you to see his worst traits.
“Those will kill you, you know,” you say, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.
“Okay mom” he laughs grabbing the lighter despite your disapproving glare,
“You have a daughter to think about” you say, feeling like you'd be letting your profession down by giving up so easily.
“It's why I smoke, the safest way to calm the nerves while staying clean” he murmurs with a look on his face that is enough to get you to drop it for now. You weren't about to pry into his struggle with addiction and you certainly weren’t one to judge, you’d faced similar issues after your brothers passing.
“I used to smoke,” you confess as the elevator doors close in front of you both.
“Seriously?” he remarks, not able to believe it.
“Pack a week for about a year” you say, slowly nodding your head as the two of you walk through the foyer towards the parking lot.
“You quit?” He asks, impressed.
“Ya I don’t think it was long enough to form a habit. When did you start?” you offer as you move your legs through the snow, it was dense your legs would be sore tomorrow.
“What? Are you gonna assess the state of my lungs?” Frankie laughs, moving easily through the snow you were struggling so hard against.
“Yes, but i'll only tell you the results if you want to know”
“Few years back, after...” he stops himself before confessing the worst thing that ever happened in his life.
“The mission” you finish for him, remembering how Pope had picked up similar habits once he finally returned home. “You were there with Santi?” you question
“He told you about it?” he asks, sterner than you’d seen him before, he was afraid that you knew what a monster he was. You shake your head, no and he thanks the gods. “You think i'm going to?” He queries lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, making sure not to blow it out anywhere near you.
“I don’t know, maybe. It’s the one thing he wont tell me about, figured it would be easier for you if you were talking to a stranger about it.”
“Not much of a stranger now” he laughs, but there was something behind his eyes, a similar sadness that you saw with Santi when he talked about it. Your thoughts are interrupted when something cold hits you in the face, your mouth drops open, your forehead scrunches in disbelief.
“Shit, I wasn’t aiming for your face I swear!” he looks up panicked
“I guess it's what I get for asking so many questions” you say, hand still over your face playing into it as you formulate your attack.
“No, oh my god! No! It wasn't because of that, let me see” he says, you let your hands drop and you smile wickedly up at him. Before he has time to react, you rub a handful of snow into his face.
“Oh... you're gonna pay for that.” he draws out, wiping the snow from his face.
After 15 minutes of all out war, and a brief truce that was to be officially signed once back inside you managed to get to the door handle and lean into the back seat grabbing out the brush. You offer it to Frankie, but he's already started clearing off the rest of the car with his arms.
“Hey can you grab my spare charger out of the compartment there?” you say cleaning off the trunk, the front doors now accessible.
“Ya, holy shit is this a knife?” he asks, pulling out a knife.
“Maybe.” You say staring into his eyes as his mouth hangs open in amusement. “For safety, I didn't know who I'd be driving up with! You coulda been a murderer” you explain palms up.
“And you were planning on what? shanking me?” he laughs a huge smile on his face, weirdly endeared by your thought process.
“Only if I had to.” You say chuckling between shivers, the cold now seeping through your makeshift snowsuit hitting against the sweat you’d worked up.
“You want it?” He offers.
“No i'm good, thanks”
“Because you don’t think I'm a murderer or because you have another one hidden in the room already?” he laughs, but he stops when you tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows, averting your eyes.
“Wait, do I need this knife?” he calls as you trudge back through the snow.
You both change into less sweaty attire and you settle into the couch turning on to watch the latest forensic files rerun. You shiver as you sit down having caught a chill. Noticing you shaking, Frankie goes to the wardrobe and grabs down a spare blanket throwing one at you so it lands directly over your head. He laughs when he sees you slowly turn towards him beneath the blanket, like someone in a makeshift ghost costume.
“Excuse me!” you laugh
“Hey you should be thanking me, can't have you freezing to death.” he says, “Are you asleep under there?” he asks, when you don't respond
“I'm not a cat! I don't fall asleep when someone throws a blanket over me!” He's not paying attention to what he's doing and the bottle in his hand shatters against the counter, a shard slicing his hand open.
“Fucking shit.” you him sigh.
“Are you okay?” You ask maneuvering out from under your blankets to see Frankie in the kitchen, glass on the floor and blood coming down his arm.
“Wow you're out of my sight for 2 seconds and you maim yourself” you say laughing, stopping when you see the panicked look in his eye, the event evidently triggering something deep in his psyche. You quickly stand up and he goes to move towards you.
“No don't move Frankie, stay where you are.” you reassure softly, watching as his eyes lay into your own, his breathing calmer now “You're in socks, can't have you cutting your dancing feet” you say.
“You’ve heard of my dancing feet,” he says, grounding himself again.
“Only bad things” you say, throwing him a pair of shoes that he carefully puts on before moving toward the closet where the broom is “No come here, let me see your hand. The mess can wait, you're more important,” you stress leading him over to the couch and sitting him down.
“Wow, first time I'll be able to afford professional health care “ he jokes as you take his hands in your own.
“Ow” he says when you press down onto the hand to assess the damage.
“It's fine, not deep enough for stitches, should heal up on its own. I still want to clean it though, to stop any infection.” You return with a small bottle of over priced vodka opening it and dabbing some onto a cotton pad. He doesn't flinch when the alcohol cleans the wound and he watches as you bandage his hand up.
“You carry a med pack with you on every trip?” he queries, but you don’t hear him you’re too focused on wrapping his hand.
“There! good as new,” you say standing up and cleaning up the glass on the floor. “Hey did you bring a swimsuit?” you ask, dumping the glass into some newspaper that was left in the room.
“Why?” He asks.
“Answer the question Frankie” you say, folding the paper around the shards before placing it into the trash.
“Yes, you wanna go hang out at the pool with the fifty families stuck here?”
“Ya. You don't? Seriously this room is wildly expensive and has a huge jacuzzi tub, I'm getting in your welcome to join, but bathing suits are mandatory.” you offer.
“I was gonna get in fully clothed,” he offers, not missing a beat.
“Perfect even better”
As per usual he beats you to the punch and settles into the tub that was more akin to a hot tub than a bath, he wanted to get in first partially to annoy you and partially so his body wouldn’t be on full display, he wasn't as jacked as he once was and he’d become insecure about certain areas that he’d let go once his kid came along. He watches as you walk in and his eyes can't help but follow your figure around the room, a beautiful person behind a beautiful personality, he thanks the universe for placing him into your orbit.
“That why they call you catfish?” you ask drawing him from his daydream back into an equally pleasing reality.
“What?” he responds, blushing at having been called out on his gawking.
“Cause your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water when you're zoned out” you smirk, lowering yourself down into the tub.
“Rude” he says splashing after you settle in.
“Alright, Frankie, what is it?” you ask, causing his face to look up to you “what's your deal, apart from smoking? You gotta have flaws”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he charms
“Sinister” you laugh, but he doesn't, you reach your foot up tapping his cheek with it,
“Disgusting,” he chuckles, grabbing it and rubbing the arch before pushing it back into the water.
“God, I miss the ocean” you confess, “ I hate the city sometimes.”
“You’re not planning on staying in Chicago after you're done?”
“Nope, gonna get myself out to the coast, or at least somewhere without winters.” you say stretching your arms out across the tub. “How about you, are you planning on staying?”
“ Probably, no reason to leave, plus it's close to my mom so she can take care of Arianna when I'm at work, though I wouldn't be opposed to moving if the opportunity presented itself she's young enough that it wouldn’t be too hard.” he says, wanting you to know that if you asked, hed follow you anywhere.
“Arianna, beautiful name. Did you pick it?” you ask looking up when a few minutes of silence pass. As you do you notice that the somber look from early had returned. “You okay?” you ask.
“I don't deserve her, I don’t deserve something so good.” he states, suddenly realizing he didn’t deserve someone like you either. You wouldn’t be sitting in the tub with him if you knew what he’d done.
“Frankie that's not true” you reassure
“You don't know the shit I've done. I'm not... I'm not a good person,” he says, still not looking over to you.
“Well, I…” you begin to refute.
“Seriously, I've done bad things… awful things'' he clears his throat, afraid to look at you, afraid you’d be terrified by him.
“People make bad mistakes, but that doesn't make them irredeemable, not if they are willing to change. You understand what you did was bad, that says something.” you reassure, knowing the guilt was likely left over from the military.
“Well, wise words coming from someone who's never done anything bad”
“You don't know me that well Frankie, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things, crappy things to numb the pain. It's what we do to make up for those shitty actions that count. At every turn, you’ve shown me that you're not an evil person. Everything I’ve seen is good, and funny and incredibly kind.” you finish and you continue to nudge him with your foot until he finally cracks a smile.
“Well now you're smiling again, my missions complete and it's time for bed” you say stepping out of the tub and drying off, unaware that you’d just made Frankie fall even harder for you. His eyes helplessly following you as you leave the bathroom.
“Since I'm an outpatient, does that mean I get the good side of the bed?” he calls out after you. You roll your eyes but let him have it, you preferred the sleeping situation the way it was.
#In a week#part 3#frankie x y/n#frankie x reader#frankie catfish morales#triple frontier fic#triple frontier fanfiction#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#pedro pascal characters
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Oblivious (Eddie Kaspbrak x reader)
"Hi. How are you? It's uh, it's been a while." It had been four weeks, which in hindsight was way too long to be apart from Eddie.
"I'm good. She's getting better, slowly." Your grandmother had been on deaths doorstep a little over a month ago. She had been the glue holding the family together for the past ten years, and the entire extended family had shown up at the hospital. It had been over seven years since some aunts and uncles had seen you, and you failed to remember almost all of their names.
"That's good. Um, I wrote notes for you. In each lesson, since we're in all the same classes and I thought it would help because exams are in, like, two months and you missed a whole month of preparation." Hermione Granger who? Eddie shuffled a small stack of papers over to your desk. The front page was highlighted, underlined and had stars around the title. Typical Eddie.
"Thanks, Eds! God, my mom will freak if I fail my exams." You exclaimed with a beam that Eddie returned.
"Anyway, how have you been? Did you tell her you liked her?" You were referring to Eddie's crush. She had been spoken about, but Eddie had refused to tell anyone what her name was, which sucked. It'd be better to know which girl to be jealous of, instead of having to make wild guesses.
"What? No way! I'll tell her when Richie stops joking about my mom." Eddie decided.
"Eddie! Richie will never stop! Come on, you know I won't tell anyone!" You said, hands clasped together. Eddie laughed.
"Alright. I'll tell her to meet you in the bathrooms after third."
"Yes! God, Eddie, finally! If it's Gretta, I'm warning you, I may cry. You know, out of actual pain for you." Eddie laughed again, and your heart soared.
"No, no. I have better taste than that. Way better taste."
"I'm going to fucking kill Eddie." You muttered. It was five minutes into fourth, and the only person in the bathroom was yourself. The tap was dripping slowly, and you reluctantly turned it off before you went mad.
The mirror had smudges all over it, and you could see your reflection. The usual messy hair, the typical outfit, and the same old face. You frowned. What did Eddie's crush have that you didn't? If he liked a cheerleader, your name would be first on the tryouts list. If he was into some nerd, then books would fill your bedroom while he filled your heart. It was driving you insane not knowing which clique his crush fit into.
"Fucking dead." You muttered as you stalked out of the bathroom. It wasn't about being late for history and receiving an afternoon detention, it was about Eddie being a liar. Of course, you weren't mad at him. You knew that. You were mad, scathing mad at his crush.
"He's fucking dead."
"Where's (Y/n)?" Richie asked. The losers were at the bike shed, glancing around in each direction. There was no sign of their best friend.
"Oh. Shit. She might have a detention." Eddie concluded. Heads spun.
"Why?" Bill asked. He was immensely proud of being able to manage short answers without stuttering.
"I-Uh, I cant say." Eddie shifted uncomfortably.
"You can, and you fucking will." Richie demanded.
"I told," Eddie swallowed.
"I told her that my crush would meet her in the bathrooms after third and before fourth." Eddie explained. Stan rose an eyebrow.
"Is that it? Did she find out who it was?" Beverly asked eagerly.
"Um. She would have seen her, but I don't think she realised that that's my crush." Eddie chewed his bottom lip, a nervous habit he had picked up.
"If she didn't realise.. Is it Gretta or some fuck face?" Richie placed his hands on his hips, and Beverly, Stan and Ben burst out laughing. Bill sniggered, and took a mental photograph. He'd enjoy drawing that later.
"No! Ew! That's what (Y/n) said! It's not. It's someone way better. Basically a queen, no, a goddess compared to Gretta." Eddie looked happy talking about his crush, and Beverly decided that no matter who it was, she would support Eddie. Richie 'the nerd' Tozier, figured it out.
"Holy fuck! That's such a smart way of telling her who you like! God, the second I get a crush on someone I'll do that. But it's also pretty stupid. She'll be mad, Ed's, really mad." Richie clapped Eddie on the back, and he almost fell over.
"Oh!" Stan and Bill exclaimed at the same time. Bill, Eddie, Richie, Stan and (Y/n) had grown up together, and could practically read each other's minds.
"What?" Ben asked, gaze flickering between Richie and Eddie.
"Want to fill us in on your telepathic conversation?" Beverly said in amusement.
"Eddie likes (Y/n), and she would have seen her own reflection in the bathroom." Stan explained. He glanced at Eddie to double check. Eddie nodded miserably.
"She doesn't like me back, but at least she won't really know. Unless she figures it out. Holy shit, what if she figures it out?" Eddie's voice grew higher with every word he squeaked.
"She does li-like you. Like two m-months ago when you f-f-first told us you had a cr-cru-crush, she confessed to m-me. It was kind of p-pit- pitiful, watching her pine o-over someone whose as o-o-oblivious as she is." Bill snickered quietly. Eddie's head snapped upwards.
"What the fuck? Is this some kind of joke?" He looked at everyone in the small circle.
"Ew. She has terrible taste. Better make your move, Eddie, before someone else sweeps her off her feet." Richie pointed out, quite bluntly in Eddie's opinion.
"I can't. She'd never like me as much as I like her." Eddie said miserably. The Losers exchanged a glance. What a delusional fool.
"Kaspbrak! Get your puny little ass over here!" You shouted as you pedalled over to the Losers as fast as you could. Eddie pushed Stan in front of him, who grinned at you.
"Now is not the time to tell me to be a vegetarian, Stan. Eddie, I'm going to kill you! I got my first detention of the whole fucking year thanks to you!" Eddie swallowed.
"She told me she was there?" Eddie looked terrified, and you almost laughed.
"Well, she fucking wasn't." You rifled through your bag and found a wad of gum. You threw it at Eddie as hard as you could. He let out a shriek, and Richie dove for the packet on the ground.
"Wicked! It's still got four pieces! Thanks, (Y/n)!" Richie beamed.
"Oh, also. You're Eddie's crush. Get it, because you would have looked in the mirror and seen yourself. Fuck off Eddie!" Richie squealed when Eddie threw his fanny pack at the bespectacled boy. Your eyes widened comically. Stan and Bill exchanged a glance, while Beverly and Ben exchanged something similar.
"No you're not! Ew!" Eddie shrieked like a bird. Your mouth opened.
"I get you don't like me, Eddie, but that's just fucking rude." You decided. Eddie looked helplessly at Richie.
"It's fine, Ed's. She likes you too. She told me about it in maths." Richie smirked triumphantly at your face.
"Fuck off, jackass. No one was asking for your opinion." You stuck the bird up at Richie, who began chomping on YOUR gum loudly.
"Fuck you too. I just got a couple together, pull my pants down and call me Cupid." Ben snickered, and Stan high fived Richie.
"What? No, you didn't!" Eddie almost shrieked. There's not much that can be done when the pair involved are refusing point blank to believe the other likes them.
"Well, I have to go. Eddie, you're still on my hit list. Richie, you better watch your fucking back. Everyone else, have a nice night." You shouted as you pedalled away from the quarry where you had found the losers. Time to face facts. Edward Kaspbrak does not like you in any way other than a friend. Get it through your thick head.
"Eddie! The fuck was that?" Richie groaned. Eddie looked confused.
"What was what? We're just two friends, and I've hopelessly fallen for someone who doesn't like me back and that's totally cool." Even Stan could tell Eddie was going to cry.
"She does fucking like you." Stan shouted in annoyance.
"What?" Eddie whispered. Richie wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"She does like you, dip shit! Why would we lie about that? Go get your act together because I push you into the fucking water." Stan ran a hand through his hair tiredly. Eddie gulped.
"I'll do something tomorrow, I swear I will."
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3am peter maximoff/me discord headcanons
the people have spoken. i edited it a bit so no personal info is revealed. also sometimes a ‘you’ is addressed, that’s my friend but feel free to imagine that as you. have a fun peek at my brain when i am not putting in Effort. also i misspoke its 6000+ CHARACTERS not words. i passed out after the final headcanon
- first of all. this bitch is Insecure with a capital 'I'. all his life he was told that he was a freak because of his mutation and then he believed he was a loser because he lived in his moms basement for a while and he just. he needs someone to tell him that he is actually great and a Hero
- I can and WILL be that person
- I think this is canon but ya know they don't really discuss this stuff in a superhero movie but. Peter is a whole ass virgin.
- bisexual because no straight person dresses THAT well
- if peter was around these days he would be a retro punk type of person. I think he would like lemon demon but that might just be because i'm listening to lemon demon rn
- since both his parents were holocaust survivors he would be a huge advocate for human rights
- i'm not saying he would try to kill the president but that's exactly what I'm saying
- I think Peter would have a similar interest in children as I do. other people's kids are cool. Do I want kids? FUCK no
- if peter maximoff was a real person he would 1) be my bestie and 2) ABSOLUTELY have a weed old people music basement party with us
- he is super touch starved because most of his mother's affection was given towards his little sisters (his dad wasn't around because of the whole. 'not knowing he was his dad' thing)
- peter would cry the first time he got laid and thats all im saying about that
- he gives the BEST hugs because they are tight but not too tight
- he smells like leather
- not a headcanon but. I want to touch his hair
- Peter Maximoff just wants to be given affection and praise for everything he's accomplished. I would pull the sun out of the sky and hand it to him if he asked
.- this is going to sound like im Projecting but Peter would play bass
- he plays bass because it helps him slow down and focus without being a drag on his personality
- hates water
- thinking about Holding his Hand makes me cry
- bro this is a FICTIONAL character I am being weird but I do not care
- dude I just pictured getting to wear the silver jacket and im :sobs:
- anyways back to what I was saying
- peter could tell me that the only way he could ever be At Peace and Happy was if I grew wings and flew into the sun then I would do exactly that
- he dresses in traditionally masculine and feminine ways because he is epic
- he just knows the power he holds in a skirt
- I am crying
- low key hc him as nb
- by low-key I mean not at all lowkey
- he is oddly good at drawing faces but nothing else. He can only draw faces.
- YES this is so he can draw the faces on the bodies i draw
- this man would punch a neo nazi in less than a second. no hesitation. again, the parents thing
- he protects his little sisters but like not in the creepy "whatever you do to her, I do to you" way. just in a 'dude I am literally an xman if u hurt her ill obliterate you' way
- hc abt me. I buy him shoes a lot because he is constantly destroying his shoes because he moves at the speed of sound
- living with peter would rock because 1) the whole space is clean in 0.000000000000000000001 seconds and 2) cuddles and 3) he showers in 3 seconds so the water bill won't get too high when i take 30 minute showers
- he is canonically a kleptomaniac but you already KNOW he is raiding and vandalizing hobby lobby because those bitches homophobic
- I would force you to let him participate in 1 mcu cover (MCU is my mcr cover band called my chemical uterus where we replace half the words of mcr songs with penis)
- he is an xman which means he is athletic but begrudgingly so
- if he was real every Christmas i'd give him twinkies and he'd give me chocolate chips and I'd sob and cry for hours and hours
- this motherfucker would despise ahs because he doesn't like seeing people sad or in pain but he would still listen to me if I talked about it because he's cool like that
- dude no one would ever shatter their phone around him because he'd just catch it before it hits the ground
- I am trying not to make this sexual but. I mean c'mon. he can jerk it to the speed of light that's gotta count for something
- he can do FLAWLESS eyeliner because he practices on his sisters and i am Jealous thinking about it because i look like a raccoon when i do eyeliner
- peter would say acab rights
- he would simultaneously love and hate Jojo Rabbit. if he were real I wouldn't make him watch it very often but it is my favorite movie so he might see it once or twice.
- problem is. this bitch can't be driven ANYWHERE
- it's always "bro we could've been there and back by now. no dude you don't understand you can just ride on my back—"
- any meticulous or "slow" tasks would make him really anxious and fidgety. unfortunately that just makes him more anxious because he's afraid he's annoying the people around him.
- ^ is that canon? probably
- retro gaaang
- arcade gaaang
- he would probably try to beat my asteroids high score but he CANT because im the asteroids KING
- literally I beat the highest score ever done in that arcade I am So Cool
- not a fan of stickers. too much responsibility
- pet ferret
- lowkey insecure about his laugh & his smile because a bunch of adults in his life said his laugh was irritating
‐ fuck you YES im projecting
- blue painted nails because he has taste
- king of DDR
- [friend’s name] you’re not reading this but he would kick ur ass in taiko
- halloween would fuck SO HARD
- space nerd space nerd space nerd space nerd space ne
- bro if peter was real i think id never infodump on my parents again
- a 3 hour rant about ahs from me
- a 3 hour rant about the solar system from peter
- my parents are crying because my voice box would implode on itself
- cud ddddleel ee
- i want him to Hold Me Gently
- i want to wear the goggles
- pink floyd party
- nirvana party
- mcr party
- crying on the floor because I love him so much.
- Peter likes to have his picture taken but he doesn’t want to see the picture. He wants to live on past his death but he does NOT want to see his disastrous hair
- speaking of hair
- yes i would braid it
- very nice color I want to touch it
- butterfly clips……………….
- in conclusion: I love this bitch and I will protect this bitch until the day that I fly myself into the sun
- also i want to kiss him on the m*uth
#peter maximoff headcanons#peter maximoff x me#god this is. borderline incoherent#have fun reading this and trying to decipher my brain
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Mr. Sandman
Rating: General
Relationship: Dream Deity X Female!Human
Warning: Relationship Confrontation, one-sided relationships, Dream symbolism, non-subtle symbolism
Word count: 2789
A dream deity is having doubts in his relationship and confronts his girlfriend in her sleep to get some honest answers
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I lay in bed with my arm curled around my girl, stroking her shoulder as she sleeps. She is spooned to my side, facing towards the bathroom. She never rests her head on chest, something I hardly noticed when we first started dating. I stare up at the ceiling in thought, something I've found myself doing a lot lately. Always after spending the night with her, I manage to wake before she does and just gets lost.
Lately, or perhaps since the beginning, she hasn't been all there with me. We rarely go out for dates that aren't typical of newly dating couples. Every date feels like a first date more than anything. Always movies or cheap dinner, nothing special. In the beginning, I cast it off with my own insecurities of being a deity. Perhaps she didn't want to draw attention to me which is hard to do with my looks. I tend to stand out in a crowd and my career as a dream therapist makes me a sought out man. Still, even months later she feels like she is at a distance. Does she actually want to be here? Even now looking at her back, seeing her refusing to cuddle makes my doubts arise.
I talk myself in circles for another hour till she rouses from sleep. I watch her in silence knowing she doesn't care for conversation after freshly waking. Though my mind raced with thought it's when I look at her naked legs and ass that I will admit I lose my train of thought for a little. Once she is in the bathroom I get out of bed and head to the kitchen with a pair of pants I wore last night. I start a pot of coffee for her as I fish out some breakfast. I make her favorite microwave breakfast biscuit then finish getting dressed.
The morning is routine, I make breakfast and wait on her before I leave for work. I sit at the dining room table on my phone, listening for her quiet footsteps.
"Morning," I call as she sits across the table. Even when we share a meal she sits as far away as she can.
"Morning," she grumbles over her coffee. I listen for her content sigh and smile to myself when she does.
"I need to head out early, Mrs. Peterson is coming in before eight," I say as I shoulder on my jacket," Love you, have a good day. I'll text you during lunch." as I walk by I kiss her head.
"You too," she answers back. I try to pay it no mind as I head to the door. I reach for my keys on the side table, stopping when I see my things. Stacked neatly on the table is my toothbrush I forgot sometime this week and folded pajamas. The sight grates on me more than it uses to. My line of thinking lately is seemingly fueled by her normal actions. I grit my teeth as I decide to leave them and head out.
The whole day is spent in spiteful thinking. I begin to notice every little thing she does or doesn't do. Now that I think of it I can't remember the last time she even said that she loved me. Of course, it's not a problem, if she doesn't want to say it then she doesn't have to but… she has never been affectionate, which is fine, I guess. She hasn't been the one to plan dates or initiate anything besides sex. Damn, that line of thought is alarming. Is she just using me?
I torture myself for the rest of the week, feeling more and more distant from her now more than ever. I try to bring it up but she shuts it down immediately or spinning the conversation to something else. Its classic reflection tactic, if this was anyone else I would use some dream dissection to find the root of the problem. Yet doing this with her seems wrong, like a breaking of trust to enter her head like that. Still, that might be the only way to get some answers. I can't live like this, not knowing if she really cares or just stringing me about.
With the decision made I hold her close that night, preparing to dig up some problems.
Entering dreams is easy and the participant is always open to the experience, another talent of mine I fear. The scene plays before me, an empty beach on a sunny day. I find myself playing along, standing beside her.
I walk with her on a beach, noting the happy place she has created. The golden sand warm from the sun above. The white noise from waves crashing on the shore. I watch her from the corner of my eye, almost feeling bad about what I'm about to do. It needs to be done, for both of us.
"So what do you think about our relationship," I tilt my head towards her. Within an instant the beautiful blue sky changes to a light red. The sun setting over the ocean. I take note. Looking her over I see her posture is stiff, rigid.
"good," she answers simply. She won't look at me, which solidifies my thoughts of her being scared. I have to keep reminding myself this has to be done. Tough love is needed
"Just good? I thought its been going fairly well, but I am curious about something," I lay the bait. The sky gets a little darker, becoming a mix of purples and reds. Her gaze hasn’t left her own feet and the waves are becoming louder.
"What are you curious about," she chews on her cheek. It pulls at my heart but it hurts more to know she is nervous because of what I'm asking.
I look her over, preparing for the worst," why don’t you ever leave anything at my place? Also, why do you pack my things by the door?" she stops walking. The air feels tense, clouds forming off the horizon. The waves are white-capped and angry. She takes a moment to think.
"Why do I not leave things at your place?" I nod," I just haven't brought anything that I would forget." such a cop-out answer. I sigh before turning towards her. I hear the thunderclap from behind me, her eyes refusing to meet mine.
"What's stopping you," I finally ask. I'm not here to play games. She snaps her head to me, open and worried.
"What stopping me?"
"Yes, you aren't fully here with me and I want to know what's keeping you," I explain. She looks away again, the air is electric as the storm approaches.
"Nothing, this is just how I am," she tries to lie. I can practically taste it in the air. The bitter feeling in my mouth from her attempts to dissipating the conversation.
"What's stopping you," I ask firmer. I'm done being subtle and nice. This is my life too, my time she is wasting. If she doesn’t want me then she has to decide that now.
She looks up at me, meeting my eyes. I can see her determination, the attempt of looking strong. It hurts that she feels she needs to do that. I can hear the thunder, see the flashes of lighting. Her breathing is getting harder, the sound mixing with the crashing waves.
She drops her shoulders, sighing as she looks away. The sky turns dark as the night sky. The clouds cover the full moon above. The waves relax but I smell the rain.
She takes another breath," I'm scared." something wet splashes on my cheek. Then another on my head. Soon it's pouring. I don’t let it deter me, taking a step closer to her. As I do a soft sound of thunder plays above us.
"scared of what," I ask softly. I know this has to be a challenge for her. I never wanted to be the reason she was sad, or scared. I just want her happy. In some twisted way, I know this confrontation will.
"scared of being lied to and left behind," she answers. The waves lap at my ankles, shocking me with it's cold.
"Why would I do that," I reach out and tilt her chin up. I want her to look at me when she accuses me of other's past transgression against her. She looks between my eyes, trying to map out my feelings. I can feel hers, the biting rain flattening my hair and clothes. The ocean lapping at my ankles. The bright flashes of light streaking across the sky.
"Why wouldn’t you? I don’t want to commit when there is a chance that you don’t actually care. That you will use me," she shivers. The wind picks up as she spoke, turning the rain sideways. I couldn’t pay it any mind, her words hurt. To think that she even partially believes that I couldn’t care about her. I would traverse the tallest mountains and deepest oceans just to see her smile. It's like someone is clenching my heart in a death grip when she says that I would use her. If she truly believes that then why be with me?
"Then why are you here," I drop my hand. I do what she does, folding into myself. If she really thinks that I would use her then why even bother?
She wipes the rain from her eyes, or maybe they were tears. She glances behind me to the rocky sea. I give her a moment to think of an answer, praying that its an honest one.
She sighs, "Because I can't let go, I want you and it scares me to want you." my heart gets squeezed again. I want to crumble at her feet and confess my devotion to her. I wish to shower her in praises and gifts until she understands how much I cherish her. I know it will do no good, it would just make her feel worse. This is her problem, her decision.
I take a step back, a bolt of lightning hits the sea behind me," make a choice." with that I leave. I sit on the sidelines and watch her happy place become a battlefield. I look over the dark storm clouds that pelt her with heavy rain. Looking over the angry sea, waves pushing higher and higher on the shoreline. Stopping just before it touches her feet. I have to clench my eyes when I see her fall to her knees. Her hands run through her hair as she weeps. I feel awful but this had to be done. I have to have my answer even if it means this. I cant be strung along just because she can't make up her mind.
She sits in the sand, the waves rising higher and higher till she is engulfed. Drowning herself in her own feelings. She sits there, allowing herself to wallow in her own fears. I feel a warm tear trail over my cheek. I don’t care, I just sit on the precipice of fear and emptiness. I love her, and it's killing me.
I watch her for what felt like hours. Hating every second because I know she is deciding if she could trust me. Fighting with herself over and over. It hurts to think someone you love might not love you. It's an impossible ache, a terrible pain. I'd rather be drowned over and over than deal with this. Be stabbed repeatedly than watch my love debate if I'm worth it.
A while later the waves recede and the clouds part. The moon illuminates the beach in a beautiful glow. The waves slowing to a crawl and reflecting the light. It’s a serene sight, very different than a moment ago. I watch as she sits up from the sand, flipping her wet hair back out of her face. My stomach flutters at the sight never used to how beautiful she is. She stands, dusting the sand from her body. Once she runs out of things to do she just looks over the ocean. The moon moving to sit on the horizon just for her.
"Teo," she calls out. I startle, my heart racing as I show up. I stand before her, finally seeing her puffy face. I try not to react, my eye twitching for a second. I don’t want to persuade her either way, this is all on her. I can't even bring myself to speak as I look at her. Keeping neutral, my hands behind my back.
She studies my face, almost suspicious like. She timidly takes a step forward, the wet sand around her feet sinking. Raising her hand she takes a deep breath. I don’t even breathe. She touches my face, confident as she takes another step forward. Everything is still. The waves have frozen behind me as well as the ocean breeze.
"I'm sorry," she starts. A chill runs down my spine and my throat clogs. I cant hear this, I thought I was ready but I'm not. I cant hear her reject me over something as petty as fear. I won't lie and say I could give her everything but I can say I would damn well try. I try to fight through the icy grip over my heart, closing my eyes as I take in the warmth of her hand.
I startle when I feel something touch my lips. I suck in my first breath in minutes as I realize she is kissing me. I don’t push my luck, I can't, and let her take the lead. She is confident in her movements, grabbing my hand as she presses her lips firmly to mine. Her fingers intertwine with mine, taking another step forward. I can't help but squeeze her hand, grabbing her and pulling her closer.
Noticing my greed I lean back, needing more than anything for her to speak. I could stand here and kiss her all day. Yet, I have to know what she chose.
I meet her eyes and look through them. Taking in my surroundings to get any clue. The waves have resumed their movement, barely lapping at my heels. I watch her, she looks determined like before. This time it isn't trailed with fear but with comfort. She even tilts her head and smiles a small smile. She looks over my face, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight. The determination is still there but now she is giving affection.
She pets her thumb over my cheek," Teo."
"Yes," I answer. She bites her cheek as she thinks on her words.
"I'm sorry," she repeats. My heart clenches again, this time I don’t hide the fear. Her eyes open wide before she wraps her arms around me," I'm sorry I've been stringing you on. I'm sorry I haven't been all there for you. I'm sorry I ever made you doubt your feelings for me. I promise to be better this time." she clenches me a bit tighter. The wind picks up as does her panic. I hardly notice from the heavyweight being lifted off me. She promises to be better this time. This time.
"A-are you-," I can't finish the sentence.
"I'm going all the way, I trust you to catch me unlike everyone else, I love you," she sniffles near my ear. I rub my hands up her back, snuggling my face into her neck. I don’t say anything, I cant. She is actually choosing me, I hardly believe it. I barely hear the waves crash as her anxiety rises. "Please say something," she whimpers.
I don’t answer. I pull her back, looking into her worried eyes. I give a toothy grin before crushing my lips to hers. Taking all my own fears and worry and casting it aside. I press my love and devotion to our kiss. Answering her with actions pushing the elation I feel into her. She returns in full, molding her mouth to mine.
I startle when I hear a loud bang overhead. I pull back and stare at the sky just in time to see an explosion of colors. I watch confused as a skinny trail of light shoots into the sky before bursting in a scattered circle of color. They are fireworks.
"What," I start before I look at her face. Her smile is wide and her eyes filled with love. I grin just as wide, chuckling as another firework shoots into the sky. "I think the fireworks are a good touch," I kiss her again.
"I thought so too," she rests her head against my shoulder. We both watch the fireworks go off, holding each other close.
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This is based on a dream i had that touched way too hard on my inabilities to commit in relationships. only difference was he was a demon and i was in a dream in a dream while he texted me the questions. then when i woke from the dream in a dream i ended up doing a sacrifice because the next step in every relationship is murder.
Check out my Archive| Masterlist | Main Blog
#Dream deity#deity#monster boyfriend#Enigma-IM#deity boyfriend#confrontation#dream therapy#symbolism#teo#exophilia
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A few days or maybe a week into being hired is when Fiona finds out most of the crew live in the penthouse with Geoff, at which point she immediately demands a sleepover. Nails will be painted, hair will be braided, boys will be talked about, nobody is safe
YES, SO MUCH YES, I LOVE THIS OKAY SO-
Fiona gets this idea because she wants to know more about the crew as a whole and she wants to hang with her newfound family, and what better way to get to know someone than when it's 4 am and you're all tired as hell telling secrets or something?? So she calls Geoff up and is like, "Hey dad can I have a sleepover?" (Yes she actually says that, you cant convince me otherwise) and Geoff is like ?? What? And so she explains her plan to him and he's automatically on board. They have no jobs coming up for at least a month, why not let loose? So she makes a huge group chat for the entire crew to let them know, and also she's like, wait why dont you guys have a group chat already wth
So now everyone is ready and hyped!! She shows up at the penthouse super early that morning to help Jack and Ryan prepare for having 11 people in it for one whole night. (We all know Gav isn't finna help, Geoff is asleep, and Michael and Jeremy are helping as well, but mostly with cleaning up a bit and finding entertainment) By 2 in the afternoon, things look great!! The furniture in the living room has been moved around a bit so there's enough room in the middle, where a bunch of pillows and blankets are likely gonna be placed. There's a Switch and an X-Box by the tv, ready to be played. Board and card games like Twister, Uno, and Monopoly are set to the side, ready to cause trouble. Snacks are spread throughout the room, unopened sodas, beer, candy, and chip bags. It all looks great, and Fiona is so excited!! The first one to arrive is Matt, Switch and two boxes of donuts in hand. Then, the Twins, Trevor and Alfredo. Wearing matching adult sized onesies they picked up along the way! And finally, Lindsay. She's a bit latez but nobody questions it because it's well. It's Lindsay.
Everyone is finally here!! The livingroom and kitchen are full of people chatting and playing games. (Lets say they're playing Animal Crossing bc I'm obsessed lol) and Geoff is even out of bed now too. Everyone went all out on this, and Fiona couldn't be happier. All wearing pajamas and sitting on the floor or laying on the couches and chairs, like the children they all are on the inside. Eating candy, even making a bit of a mess, but they'll just clean it up later. It's around 10 pm when Lindsay calls for everyone's attention from her spot on the floor.
"So, as you all know, I was a bit late today. BUT do you know why that is?"
A few wrong answers later, she digs into a backpack she brought with her and out comes a slew of makeup, brand new, and a ton of face paint and nail polish. Fiona squeals and is like, "You actually brought it, yesss! Who's our first victim?"
Michael and Geoff immediately nope out of there and head to the kitchen, but everyone else seems game. Especially Gavin and Alfredo, who practically jump in front of the two girls, tripping over people along the way. Gavin occasionally wears a bit of makeup or nail polish here or there, so he wants his face painted! His mistake? Asking Lindsay to do it. 30 minutes later, she's done with her masterpiece. Gavin looks in the mirror, expecting to see a mess, but he actually doesn't hate it? A gold drips painted from his forehead that go over his left eye, and a small gold heart under his right eye. He actually looks really cool! Then, he turns around to show the others, and they laugh?? Why are they laughing? He looks pristine! He looks again. Oh. That's not a heart. It's a dick. He let's out one of his signature loud squawks of shock and disappointment, with a "Lindsayyy!!" Thrown in for good measure, and jumps over the others to run to the kitchen sink.
During all of this though, Fiona and Alfredo arent laughing. Fiona is laser focused on making Fredo the hottest person in the room. And she does. She stares at her work, nearly an hour after she started, and is proud. Alfredo is loving it too, making kissy faces at the other crew members, posing and showing off his red nails while Jack takes pictures of him using a Polaroid she bought just for this occasion.
Anyways, that's all done. Nobody else wants to get their faces done, in fear they'll end up like poor ol Gav, so they move on (tho Fredo and Gav do keep their looks, Gav is just missing the "heart") Things calm down again for a bit, and everyone is telling stories. Fiona is in the middle of talking about what her life in France was like before moving to Los Santos, when she realizes she's been subconsciously braiding Matt's hair while he sits in front of her on the floor. She stops and is joking like, "aw dude wtf I've been touching Matt's hair" and then Matt is like, "Yeah but this is actually not a bad look if I'm being honest" and the others agree with him! Michael says it makes him look a bit less like an animal (I swear I love Matt lmao but you know they'd bully him during this, nobody is safe) and then Trevor is like, "you should do Ryan's next!! He has long hair too!!"
Ryan is against it at first but eventually is forced to take Matt's spot on the floor, and by the time Fiona's story is done, so is Ryan's new look, and lemme tell ya. That boy can ROCK a braid. Everyone is like, "Daaaamn, Ry, look at you GO" and "Of course he looks better than Matt, the dude was a model" and this actually makes Ryan kinda happy!! He likes his friends giving him validation, sorry I don't make the rules.
The night continues as normal. More stories are told, and they slowly start to get deeper as it gets later. Stories of their past lives, their first kills and first crimes, and romance too. They talk about their worst and best past relationships, what they're looking for in a partner, things like that.
(This is about to get a bit shippy, so I'm sorry if you dislike any of these ships, they're just the ones I personally like and wanted to write about, with my own headcanons for each character and their sexualities. If anybody is interested in me talking about my personal HC's for that, send in an ask tho cause this is already kinda long lol)
At one point, Trevor actually draws attention to himself. Things are quiet and more chill now. Everyone is being supportive, so this is good as time as any-
"Uh, actually, I kinda wanna tell you guys something since we're on the topic. I'm..bisexual."
Everyone is silent for a second, and he actually starts to get nervous, then Lindsay pipes up with
"Dude, hell yeah, bi gang! Love wins, what's up!"
Everyone smiles and laughs, and Fiona highfives Lindsay. Geoff is the next to speak up, "That's great news, Trevor. When did this realization hit you, bud? I've known you for a while now, I had no idea."
"Oh, it was actually maybe..a few months ago? A year maybe? Yeah. About half a year ago I'd say."
Michael chimes in next,
"Wait, isn't that also when you found Fredo and introduced him to Geoff?"
A few oooooh's ring out and Trevor tries to hide his face by looking down and chuckling.
"Uh, yeah. It is.. Anyways! What about you guys? Jeremy, what's your type?" He looks to the shorter male who's lounging on a beanbag near the tv, trying to divert everyone's attention from himself. Jeremy thinks for a second and takes a sip of his beer.
"Hm. Not sure. I like tough people who have a soft side usually, just like me.."
As he names off a few other things he finds attractive, Jack shoots a knowing look over to Ryan. Ryan's had a thing for Jeremy for a while now, and only she knows about it. When you're the crew mom, your kids tell ya everything.
This continues for a while longer with more almost-confessions, before people eventually start slowly passing out. (After a few games of Uno of course. The Monopoly stayed untouched, and they started a game of Twister but were to drunk to stay still and kept toppling onto each other painfully.)
This is a bit longer than I intended and I left out a LOT I wanted to put in but I don't wanna make these too long aishsijsjs I'm not good at writing lol I'm sorry, but I hope you like this!! I could elaborate on other aspects of anyone is curious, I'll be accepting these asks all day so keep em coming 💚💚💚
#achievement hunter#fahc#fahc fiona#fahc gavin#fahc geoff#fahc alfredo#fahc lindsay#fahc michael#fahc matt#fahc jack#fahc trevor#im lazy with tags sorry
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Feeling kinda dumb asking this tbh. Not sure if you even watched TVD, but in case you did, you know how Bonnie uses Expression Magic which is considered extreamly dark and powerful form of magic (I mean, she literally destroyed hell!) do you mind writing Freddy x victim!reader oneshot where he mets a witch who also practices Expression and is extreamly powerfull? He tries to kill her at first obviously
Omg, this one started out so light hearted but oh my god.
Don't feel dumb!! Its a good ask!! I do watch TVD, and I hope you like this ^^
~~~
I wake up the same way I have for the past 3 weeks. With messy hair, slashes through my favourite pyjama shirt and a finger in my hand- well, it isn’t always a finger. Sometimes its an ear, a portion of his ugly sweater, his hat, once even his eyeball. You get the picture though. Unimpressed, I watch the finger turn to gunky, dirty dust. Then promptly get up and tiredly get out the vacuum cleaner to clean up the mess.
Once I’m done, I put the vacuum back in its cupboard down the hall, which at this point I could totally do just from muscle memory and no other senses due to how often this month I’ve ripped something of Freddy’s back out into the real world in my attempt to take him out and kill him off the clean way.
But, I take a deep breath and let it out, exhausted and resigned, as I pull on pants and search through my closet for a shirt to wear out today. I guess I’m going to have to do it the hard way.
Finally, I discard the ruined shirt and wrench on a clean, yellow t-shirt and leave my house.
___TIME SKIP___
“Hey, Bernard,” I beam towards the grassy haired barista. The café’s basically empty, apart from a group of teenagers watching Netflix and Disney plus on their laptops and phone sin the far corner, so I think we’re fine to talk. He looks up from the mug he was drying out, sees my expression and promptly scoffs. Immediately he starts down the bar, past the glass case with all the sweets inside including a delicious jelly slice with lavender for safety that I get when I come here for breakfast, rounds it, and comes all the way to stand very close to me. He holds up his pointer finger between us sternly, almost mad and I focus instead on his hair rather then his face. It really is grassy- not because he’s been playing footy which he likely was before he came to work and not just because its green. Its messy, and multiple shades of different, environmental green. Representing his element.
“Don’t you dare.”
I sigh, and roll my eyes as I sit down in a bar stool, successfully putting space between us as he doesn’t move. “Its kind of a dire situation.”
“A demon?” He doesn’t look at all like it would change his mind on the subject of my using magic if it were a demon. Which it is.
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that draws strength from attention, lets move on.” Again, I roll my eyes. Not at Bernard though, this time its Freddy. Yes, he totally is that kind of demon. Not even just because he needs people to believe he exists to work. He’s just an attention whore.
Bernard crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders back, more than expressing his parents’ shared fire element. And, also, his cranky streak. “You will not use magic.”
“I’ve tried doing it the easy way. I’ll be safe, I promise.”
“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about your neighbours, and the rest of the known universe if you fuck up. Actually, scratch that. Unknown universe, too.”
“I’m not asking you for permission anyway. Just- come on, gimmie the book.” I hold out my hand, looking around for where he could possibly be hiding it. Cupboards? Behind the cupboards? Has he digitised it? He just continues to glower, and its so forceful that I lower my hand and pout. He’s always been the scary cousin in our family.
“Oh, you so are asking me for permission. You don’t know where the book is!” He sneers, and I deadpan deeply at his immaturity.
“Look, Ber, we’re grown adults. Grown! Ass! Adults! I can make my own decisions, now- where is the book?”
“No!”
“Gimmie!”
“I’m older than you, and I say no!”
“Berrrrrrrr- Oh hi Boyd.” I pause in glaring at my Bernard to look at his brother, Boyd walk by from the upstairs apartment, clipping the vizor attachment to his glasses as he’s going out. He looks boredly at me smiling at him and keeps going to the door with an old-fashioned bell fixed to the top.
“You’re here for the grimoire?” He asks, opening the door and turning over his shoulder, and I nod sweetly- he’s sure to be more helpful! “Yeah, Bernard lost it. Hid it so well even he cant find it anymore. Now, I have a date.” He leaves the, now very tense and cold café with a curt, “Later.”
Slowly… I turn to Bernard. He is now avoiding eyecontact. He misplaced… our families… century old… grimoire??! “Find. It.”
Having a change of heart, he heads behind the counter again with a lowered head. “Oof, I’m on it.”
It must take hours, before I give up looking alongside him and sit down to take a rest. The teenagers have gone by now, and Bernard turned the ‘Open’ sign on the front window around to say ‘Closed’. I don’t know how it happened, but at some point, I rest my head on the bench and the exhaustion from not getting full rest for weeks catches up to me, and I fall asleep.
“Back so soon?”
I jump. “Gah!” Turning around to where the voice came from and I see Freddy- clearly, not in a creative mood because otherwise he wouldn’t have appeared so quick. “Why are you here?!”
“This is my domain, sweetheart.” Freddy explains, something I already knew and he knows I already know and I groan.
“It’s the middle of the day! Can’t I have this one moment to sleep in peace??” A wide smile spreads across his face, and I slouch over. Course not. Oh god, I am so tired. Another yell escapes me though, exhaustion making me incredibly jumpy, when suddenly he appears beside me. Physical form and everything, I can feel the fuzz of his sweater on my arm. “Don’t touch me.” I flash him a glare, not daring him. Definitely not daring him- he’ll take it. Just telling him to back the fuck off because I’m tired not only from his unfaltering ability to keep me busy and working, even when I’m asleep, and also now because my dear older, moronic cousin has lost our grimoire which was entrusted to him, which I need to get rid of Freddy, in order to sleep and actually feel rested!
Oh, my goodddddd, I would do almost anything right now to dream about stupid normal stuff like flying, or running from an encroaching car, or falling. Even falling, which wakes you up. At least I can fall right back to sleep.
“Okay, now, see, if you tell me that, I’ll just wanna do the opposite! ~” The clawed glove nears my face and my right eye twitches, but I stand still there with my arms crossed and glare at it. The rusty, nearly black metal nearing my eyes, reflecting the sharp, gross grin on Freddy’s burnt face.
“So, its opposite day then?” I ask, humouring him because what else are you going to do? When he gets bored, he’s even more dangerous.
“Yep!” Visibly, the stripe sin his sweater switch places so its green and red, and not red and green. He thinks he’s funny.
And, clearly I’m exhausted otherwise I never would’ve fallen for that. “Then please touch me Fredrick.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, raucous laughter escapes him, and he holds his belly as he doubles over and laughs. I groan and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. I need to wake up. “Out of all the obnoxious murderers out there… “I got the worst of the lot.
“Yep, you got me. Now, let’s stop fucking around shall we? Let’s get to the good stuff!”
“Oh no.” I half groan, half whine in dread and fear. Suddenly, the fact that I fell asleep feels like stupidest move ever- at any time, he might kill me. Its just blind luck that he hasn’t felt like ending the game so far. But he could at any time, including this time.
Freddy disappears again, and I whip around to look for him. My heart starts to beat thunderously in my chest because nothing good has ever occurred when Freddy disappears. I’ve been shot, I’ve been crushed under a stone slab, I’ve been choked with 80’s twisted telephone phone cables- I’ve even been kissed. And every time, I get closer to dying. I lose oxygen, I lose blood, I lose morale. Every time I get hurt, Freddy takes me closer to death then before and I think I’m actually gone this time. He’s bored, I’m not enough anymore, the torture is over.
Which is both a relief and even more horrifying then anything else. Tears cluster in my eyes as time goes by and nothing happens. I just see the boiler room around me, everything tinted red and everything damp and shiny with grease and rust. I don’t want to die.
Suddenly, smoke starts to fill the room. Until I can’t see anything at all except the white in front of me and my hand if I would raise it, but I don’t. I just stay very still, afraid of what’s about to happen. “Fr-Freddy?” I call, weak and disappointing myself. I’m a fucking witch… but that doesn’t really mean much in this world. Not without the spell that I need from the grimoire that’s nowhere to be found. I’m a witch, and I’ve raised to think that means something, means I’m a force to reckoned with, but here I am being reckoned with and I’m useless.
The ground underneath me starts to vibrate, and the smoke slowly starts to clear.
I squint, but I can’t see much through the remaining smoke and the tears shielding my eyes except a bright light.
The vibrating gets worse, and I look down and notice that the smoke has cleared enough at the point to see what beneath my feet, and the realisation of what’s there makes fear swarm throughout every crevice of my being. Mind, body and soul.
Train tracks.
My head snaps up again to see the light, a train, barrelling closer and closer to me. It’s so loud now that I’ve realised, I’m about get his by a fucking steam train, that my ears pop and protest to the pain of it all. The train gets closer and there’s Freddy. The fucker. Wearing a conductor’s uniform and hanging out the side of the driver’s compartment. He grins and waives.
I try to use rational sense and move out of the way, but rope shoots out of the earth between the tracks and twists tightly over my shoes. I try to wrench my feet out of my shoes, panicking now as the train tracks are practically jumping, but the ripe starts to climb… higher and higher up and around my legs and my hip and my arms, until I can’t move at all. It’s so tight I can’t barely even breath- not that I’ll need to for much longer.
I brace myself, and squeeze my eyes shut against the now blinding, all-encompassing brightness of the trains light. And then the train hits-
“FOUND IT!”
I’m wrenched suddenly, and violently from my sleep on the counter and straighten up so vigorously that I nearly slip right off the bar stool. There’s drool on the bench from my sleep, my cheek feels stiff from resting on it for a while, and whip around to look at Bernard who’s standing beside me now with the leather bound, yellow paged book that he’s found. I snatch it from his fingers, dropping it on the bench and start frantically looking through it, eyes still filled with tears and now they start falling. I slap a hand over my mouth, stifling the heavy sob that racks my back and shoulders and mouth from the shock and horror of what just nearly happened. I can still see fuzzy blue dots in my vision from the light, and my nose tingles because the train just touched. It smelled like smoke and coal and that’s still in my nose. Theirs white scrapes on my wrists from the rough rope.
“Y/N,” Bernard touches my arm and I don’t push him off, but I don’t respond, either. I barely notice him, too preoccupied with looking for the right spell. I need this to be over, that can’t happen to me again! I’m not brave enough for it. Another terrible sob forces its way from my chest and I feel half like curling into my cousins chest and crying my heart out and half like killing that bastard Freddy. Wrenching his entire nasty existence from unwritten history and tearing it so it will never be salvaged again.
The second half wins, as I go back through the book backwards, and this time find the spell. “Ow-Okay.”
“Y/N, take a moment- “
“No,” I snap. I nearly got h i t, by a t r a i n. A monstrous thing the same colour as Freddy’s blades. Bernard can’t understand that, but I sure as fuck can. Stammering, but sure, I start to recite the incantation under my breath. Slowly it gets louder, as words start to become harder to say and I need concentrate more. Latin mixes together into one big word, and its har don the best of days but when there’s expression magic involved, it takes an army. More.
And I am that, right now.
Bernard looks around as wind, not coming from an open door or window, starts picking up in this room and rushes to shut the curtains and block the rest of the world from seeing in. Napkins go flying, then the chairs topple over, and then finally the wind is so strong that coffee maker rips from the wall and smashes into the glass sweets case.
I don’t see it, because I’m still following the words in the book, but I hear it. But only just, over the terrible wind screaming through my ears. Finally, the spell reaches its peak and the air in front of Bernard and me, who has gotten back to where I am, opens up. Like someone took a knife and tore literally through the fabric of space and time and magic, revealing the familiar boiler room.
The words start to speak on their own. Whispering in the wind and my lips don’t even have to move, so I let Bernard take the book. Its all so chaotic, I don’t know how I know what to do. But I reach forward and just, lightly touch the hole and its like the magic knows exactly what I want.
Dirty dust, like what Freddy turns into when you bring out of a piece of him from the dream world that I’ve been vacuuming for the past weeks appears, connects together into the shape of a man and then twists together slowly, disturbingly like vines until it isn’t dust and vines anymore. Its burnt flesh and knitted, red and green cotton.
And he looks mad. “You bitch.” Is all he manages to say, but it’s got so much hatred and fury in it that I nearly get scared. I feel it creeped into my bones and organ in my chest.
But then I remember. This is my world.
And I don’t want him in it. “Get out.” I spit, and just like the world seems to crash. Eliminating an existence -anything. Much less a person, - is a lot of work and a big deal. It shouldn’t be possible at all, and I believe that. But I believe it like some who believe murder shouldn’t be possible.
But it is and sometimes it happens, in dire situations.
It feels like I’m being torn on the inside, and scraped clean on the outside- punishment, for doing such a thing. Something to make the world balanced for this.
And Freddy warps like The Scream or a computer glitch. Half of him gong up and the other half going down. Its horrifying sight and I’m in so much pain, but I make my eyes stay open.
And then everything goes black.
___TIME SKIP: A Week___
The whole week has gone by like dream. Not a Freddy dream. Not even a happy dream. Just, like its unreal. I don’t feel much, except a slow, soft blankness like when you’re totally out of it in class after a really, really bad day.
Its not particularly a bad feeling, not compared to the horrors I endured before. Its just like I need to rest, after I used so much power, and feeling so much in general.
Oh, and I have. I’ve been sleeping all the time. Day and night. It’s been uninterrupted and nearly… empty, feeling. Bizarly, I’m well aware now when I’m asleep that I’m dreaming. I’m lucid. Like when Freddy would be there, but without him. Its not exactly restful, but still. It’s better than the nightmares.
Right now, I’m going to sleep. Feeling tiredness expand and unconsciousness take over.
Immediately, I nearly jolt right awake again from fear. Nearly. But his hand grips onto my arm before I can.
Freddy’s right in front of me, smiling sharp like a much madder, pissed off the Cheshire cat. “Heya again sweetheart.” His voice sounds too real. His touch feels to real. This cant be- “It took a fucking lot. Pulled a few strings, don’t know how. Don’t ask. But I’m back. Don’t worry though, I’m not about to kill you. That was a real neat trick you pulled… “I jump, and whimper when the a blade on his glove touches my cheek, and he leans much closer.
“So, we have a lot to talk about.”
You didn’t think you could rid of this Slasher, did you?
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CHAPTER 2- ONE KISS LESS
ARTHUR/JOKER x YOU
Summary: you’re a rouge CIA psychiatrist who is also involved in arms dealing.hired by Jokers right hand man, Gary, to break him out of Arkham. You go undercover to as a state psychiatrist after Quinn steps down as lead DR but still works under you on his case even though she never shows much interest and leaves during the meetings.Its been a year since you got to Gotham and have everything prepared for Arthur to escape but both of you have fallen in love and he asks you to runaway with him. Now you have to decide between the love of your life or building your empire.
A/N: i know it starts off slow but I have big plans for chapter 3 which might be the last who knows. Any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome! Hope you Enjoy 😊
“Turn the headlights off so we dont draw attention” you advised the driver as he pulled up the warehouse.
You had stayed up all contemplating if leaving with Arthur or Joker as he is known, would be a good idea.You wanted to rip your hair out thinking of all the what ifs. “Fuck it.” You said as you went into your closet to get your suitcase. Your heart was racing a thousand beats a minute and you couldnt stop smiling. Euphoria rushing through you like lava jumping and dancing hardly containing your excitement. “Had you ever been happier in your life?” You questioned. You packed just the basics you could always buy stuff later on. Ringing up the driver letting him know to pick you up at 8:00 on the dot. He had taken you to the warehouse before when you were looking for spots where Arthur could go and leave undetected.
“We’re here ms. L/N.” You were shaking and felt your hands get clammy. So much adrenaline occupied your body, but it would all be worth it. Finally getting your happy ending and building the future you and Arthur had talked about and planned all year. Reaching to open the door you saw the black SUV pull up in front of the warehouse. You had parked beside one of the abandoned buildings so no one could spot your car just incase. One of the doors opened. Watching intently, you knew once you saw him it would give you all the courage and reassurance you needed and that you were making the right decision.
“No , it cant be.” Disbelief washed over you as you witnessed the scene taking place in-front of you.
Cold. An ice cold wave washed over the glorious warmth you were feeling seconds before. In disbelief you saw Dr.Quinn get out of the SUV followed by Arthur. He had his red suit on and face paint perfectly applied. His once salt pepper hair was now green and slicked back to perfection. He looked just as beautiful and alluring as the videos and pictures you had seen. You couldn’t process what was going on. Your mind went straight into shock. If only earth could swallow you whole right now.
“Take me home now! GO!” You screamed at the driver, rage filling your voice.
Was this some sick joke? This couldn’t have possibly been Arthur, your sweet caring Arthur. Maybe it was and he just had to pull a Joker on you? God you had been so naive. Were they in on this together? Is that why she didnt want anything to do with his case? Was she pretending the whole time? Nothing made sense, so many questions flooded your mind. Not moving an inch the whole ride back all you could do was stare at the seat in front of you, snapping out of it when your driver opened the door.
Finally back at home. The atmosphere was dark and lonelier than you remembered. Heading straight to the bar pulling out a bottle of vodka. Maybe alcohol will kill everything you felt for him and erase the memories but all it did was make the numbness more palpable . You weren’t going to shed a tear for him ever again you promised yourself. The cold hard exterior you were known for was coming back.
The ringing of your phone woke you up from your alcohol induced sleep. “Shit” scrambling to find the loud device. Arkham had been calling all morning. 15 missed calls. “They probably know Arthur is missing by now and found his stand in you thought .”
“Hello?” You answered the phone trying to sound professional and not like you were still drunk from last nights bottle.
“Hi Dr.L/N, sorry to bother i know yesterday was your last day but we have an emergency Arthur Fleck seems to have escaped. We need you here ASAP.” The voice on the other line was the chief of psychiatry. Trying to yourself from puking as the memories of last night decided to make an appearance all at once.
“Ill head out right now.” Giving him your best concerned voice.
You had practiced this before, you knew exactly what to do so why were you so nervous? “Get it together.” You told yourself out loud. Getting ready in record time out the front door you went.
You walked into the board room. It was full of panicked staff and cops. “God I need some coffee.” You thought to yourself while rubbing your temples. Spotting the coffee station you walked over. Maybe this well help this horrible hangover and muster up a convincing performance.
“Thank you all for being here.” The chief expressed bringing the room to a hush. “ it seems that Arthur Fleck has escaped Arkham with the help of Dr.Harley Quinn.”
You almost chocked on your coffee. “How would they know he left with Dr.Quinn,” Confused you attentively listened.
“Somehow a look a like was put in as a double to throw the staff off and we don’t know how long he has been gone or if he is even in Gotham. We would like for everyone to cooperate with the police so we can get to the bottom of this.” His voice stern. One by one everyone was being called into the Chief’s office.
“Well stay in touch and call you if we need further information.” The officer smiled as he lead me out of the room. “Yes please do, ill be back in D.C. but please don’t hesitate to call if anything comes up.” giving him a slight smile and handshake.
They made copies of your year long notes on the case and you managed every question flawlessly. Everything worked out better then expected. Harley had signed off for every session that was done and you had even typed up her own notes so it would appear that she was present for all of them. There would be no suspicion that you were involved. Your job was done and now it was time to head back to D.C.
You called your assistant to get your bags and the plane ready. we’re heading back home. “Empires don’t build themselves!” You jokingly told her. Your smile vanishing as you hung up. He still managed to occupy every space in your mind. There was no escaping it. Would you ever see him again? Deep down you hoped he finds happiness even if its not with you.
The driver pulled up to the plane awaiting to take you home after a long year. The familiar knot tried to fight its way back into your throat but you wouldn’t let it. Climbing up the steps you stopped before walking into the plane and looked back. For such a grimey city it sure does have beautiful sunsets.
“Goodbye Gotham, Goodbye Arthur.”
#joaquin phoenix#joker 2019#joker movie#joaquin daddy phoenix#joaquin pheonix joker#arthur fleck#joker x reader#arthur fleck x reader#joker fandom
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