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callsign-bunnie · 8 months

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Old Habits Die Hard

Ghost is discharged from the SAS after a pretty severe suicide attempt. Now he's forced to live life as a civilian which is... pretty fucking boring. Hence why he jumps at the opportunity to beat the shit out of two punks who come in the rob the store. However, when it turns out they're part of an actual gang who has decided he needs to die... well, things get a hell of a lot less boring. Oh yeah, and he needs to talk to Soap, apparently.

Tap.

Price would have had a fit if he saw the habit that Ghost had picked up. Well, less a fit. Would have told him to knock it the fuck off, but… Well, fuck that old man. He’s the one who put Ghost in this stupid fucking position and Ghost had to cope somehow.

Ghost went back to tapping his fingers on the glass of the cigarette counter, grateful but bored with the lack of customers at the drugstore he now worked at. Why did he work at a drugstore? His stipend didn’t cover rent anywhere in his Province and he didn’t really want to go anywhere else. Plus, a job would “give him something to do”, according to Alex, who was the only fucker he still talked to.

Well, that was a lie. Okay, really, he just didn’t talk to Soap, Price, and Gaz. The latter because he didn’t talk to Ghost and… well, Soap and Price had both advocated for his discharge. Maybe he was being petty with being mad at them. Maybe he did need to be discharged but… well maybe Ghost wasn’t one to forgive easy. Not yet. One day, he would. But… Not yet.

Actually, working where he did wasn’t too bad. His boss was gone most of the time and there really weren't too many customers, so he was mostly left alone. Thankfully, too, because he’d rather be bored than dealing with people.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and for a moment he considered just ignoring it but… no. He got it out, unsurprised to see Unknown Caller. Alex. He had to use secure phones to make sure no one could track him using their phone calls.

Sighing softly, he answered the phone, leaning against the counter. “Alex.”

“ Hey, man! It’s been a couple weeks since we talked. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” Ghost lied. He knew Alex would know it was a lie, but he never called him on it. Alejandro would say it was bullshit to Ghost’s face which… Ghost would reluctantly admit he appreciated it. Sometimes, he needed someone to take him at his word, sometimes he needed someone to call him out.

Now, he really didn’t want anyone to call him out. “How are you?” He asked, genuinely caring about the answer. Alex and Alejandro had become Ghost’s only friends. So, he wanted to know how they were doing.

“ Good! Really good. I uh… got to see Gaz, again. He and Price were out here helping Farah find me when I had, you know, gone missing again. They just left.”

Ghost barely resisted teasing him about Gaz. “That’s good. I’m glad they still help you.”

“ Have you uh… talked to Soap, lately?”

Ghost just snorted and then sighed. “I’ll talk to Mactavish one day, but… not for now, no. I tried.” Once. “All he did was apologize.”

“ He does feel bad.”

“Did you call me just to convince me to talk to him?”

“... maybe. I may have promised Gaz that I’d try to talk to you. Soap is, apparently, really torn up about it. Price sent him to Las Almas while he and Gaz were helping us so Alejandro and Rodolfo could babysit him. ”

Ghost wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t feel bad. But… when Soap had agreed and pushed for Ghost to be discharged… Ghost had felt betrayed. Soap had claimed it was for Ghost’s own good, but Ghost had, only a week before, confided in Soap and told him how badly he needed the military to stay sane. How he had nowhere else to go if he wasn’t there.

“ Ghost. You almost fucking killed yourself because of a PTSD episode. ”

“I didn’t even say anything.” Ghost defended. Hey, he hadn’t said it wasn’t justified. It just… made him feel betrayed.

Alex sighed. “ You don’t need to, Ghost. I know how you are. We’ve been friends for a while now. Since Verdansk. ” Honestly, even before Verdansk. They’d worked a few missions before, though Ghost had been freshly traumatized and hadn’t wanted to admit he still needed friends.

Ghost grumbled under his breath before just sighing. “You’re right.” He admitted. One thing he’d been working on was not sabotaging his friendships. “Thanks for calling, Alex.”

“ Of course, Ghost. You’re my friend, I want you to be okay. Just… look, the old man says you don’t have to talk to him, but… talk to Soap. At least tell him you’re not mad at him.”

Ghost huffed. “I am mad-”

“ Lie! ” Alex almost sounded like he was snapping at Ghost, but Ghost knew what Alex snapping sounded like. “ Lie, like everyone does to make you feel better. ”

“Ouch. Low blow.” Ghost mumbled, just hearing Alex hum in response. “Alright, alright. I’ll… think about it.”

“ I guess that’s really the best I can ask for. ”

“It is.” Ghost agreed and then frowned when he heard the bell for the door chime. “I have to go. Bye.”

“ Alright. Talk to Soap! Bye. ” Alex hung up and Ghost shoved his phone back in his pocket, shaking his head.

He really did appreciate him, even if his correct advice irritated Ghost sometimes. Ghost went back to tapping on the glass of the cigarette counter, watching some young teenager walk around the store. He didn’t look like a delinquent, so Ghost didn’t bother to keep that close of an eye on him.

He did, however, keep a very close eye on the two new customers that had walked in. Both were dressed in dark clothing with their hoods up and Ghost could see tattoos peeking out of their hoods, on their necks. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Wannabe gangsters who, if faced with even the slightest bit of actual organized crime, would likely end up pissing their trousers.

Snot nosed little prats, essentially.

God, he hoped they’d do it. He hoped they’d try to make a few hundred off of that store. Do it, please.

The first one to enter finally came up to the counter with some sodas and a few candy bars. A bag of Malteasers, too. Ghost, occasionally continuing to glance to the other two, rang up the items, unable to help noticing how the kid shrank away from him. “What’s your name?” Ghost asked, though he didn’t honestly care.

“Dean…” The kid answered, avoiding Ghost’s eyes. “I just got off school.”

Ghost had been like that, once. Felt the need to over explain so no one would think he was trying to cause trouble. He’d more than outgrown that, since he couldn’t care less what anyone thought he was doing.

He continued to ring up the items, about to tell him the total, when one of the two delinquents came up to the counter. “Hey, my mate needs help.” They said, not at all looking urgent. Ghost noted that they had a tattoo that looked like a dragon coiled in a spiral. He kind of liked it, actually. May get something similar.

“I’ll help in a moment.” Ghost said, trying not to roll his eyes. His boss had mentioned him being nicer to the customers, so he decided to make an effort. “Let me finish ringing this customer up.”

“No, he needs help, now .” A gun was pulled and pointed directly at Ghost. Ghost, however, just stared down the barrel.

The kid immediately backed up, but the gun moved and pointed at him instead. “Don’t fucking move, or I’ll blast your head off.”

Ghost felt giddy. He felt excited. “Let him go-” He stopped and raised his hands as the gun moved to be pointed at him, instead, and he sighed. “Look, I’ll comply with whatever you ask. I’ll empty the till, hell I’ll get in the safe, just let the kid go.”

“You’ll comply with whatever I ask, regardless,” The delinquent all but growled, shoving the barrel of the gun into Ghost’s shoulder, “but uh… fine. The kid can go.” He gestured and Ghost handed the kid his bag, before the kid immediately ran off.

“Ethan!” The other called, coming up to the counter right as the kid was running off. “Why the fuck did you do that?! He’s seen our faces!”

“Yeah, as if that will matter. He’s a kid, he probably forgot.” Ethan muttered and then shook his head. “Alright, old man, open the till.”

Ghost had to resist grabbing the delinquent's face and slamming it into the glass counter, just turning and putting his keycode in to open the register. He had to fight not to get over excited and just beating the shit out of them. He was fairly certain that gun wasn’t loaded, but smart enough to avoid risking it.

He took his time, however, watching them eye him as he got out the bills and laid them on the counter. “Your bracelet,” The unnamed one said. “I like it, I want it.”

“Too fucking bad.” Ghost refused to give them that. Maybe he was mad at Soap, but it’d been a gift. One he deeply appreciated and didn’t want to lose.

“Give him the fucking bracelet!” Ethan cursed and pointed the gun right at Ghost’s head, shaking it as if to punctuate his point.

Ghost stared down the barrel, knowing exactly what type of gun it was. .22, no modifications. Of course not, why would it have any? Ghost leaned forward and put his forehead on the gun. “Do it. Because you’re not getting that bracelet.”

Ethan looked in his eyes and for a moment, Ghost thought he saw his finger tighten around the trigger, but then he saw it. Hesitation. He didn’t want to kill anyone.

Ghost immediately took advantage of that, reaching up and yanking the gun out of Ethan’s hand, moving his head to the side as the movement caused Ethan to flinch and pull the trigger. Glancing behind himself, he saw a bullet hole in the wall. So it was loaded.

Huh.

He released the magazine, seeing it indeed was loaded and just dropped it, shaking his head and slamming the gun onto the counter. “Idiots.”

“Who are you?” The unnamed one immediately asked, his eyes widened.

“A ghost.” Ghost simply answered before reaching over, grabbing the back of his head, and slamming his face into the counter, grateful when it didn’t break. He then used his elbow to hit Ethan full force in the face, leaping over the counter as Ethan stumbled.

He took said bracelet, which was a very thick steel chained bracelet, and slid it up and over his hand, wrapping his arm around the unnamed one’s neck and starting to slam the side of his now chain wrapped fist into the unnamed one's face after maneuvering so he could.

However, before he could do any real damage, something was slamming into his side, sending him into a shelf, causing it to topple over with him on top of it. The air was knocked out of his lungs and he coughed, slowly rolling over so he could push himself to stand back up.

“Are you okay?” He heard Ethan ask the other and he glanced back, seeing Ethan was touching the other’s nose. “Dan, are you okay?”

“Oh, piss off. Let’s just fuck this asshole up and go. Fuck the cash.” Dan’s nose was bleeding heavily and it dripped down his face and his neck. He looked pissed, but Ghost didn’t fucking care, finishing rising to his feet and rolling his shoulders.

He watched Dan and Ethan both prepare themselves, before Dan was running at Ghost, who punched him as soon as he got close and shoved him to the side, catching Ethan mid air as he launched at Ghost and using the momentum to send him into the shelf he’d just shoved Ghost into.

Dan was up almost immediately, and he grabbed a bottle of something, a glass bottle, and hit it over Ghost’s head, which disoriented him. But only for a moment, as he immediately punched Dan again.

He grabbed Dan’s arm and was halfway to snapping his elbow when Ethan launched at him, again. Christ, he only had one move, but it was effective that time as Ghost toppled over, Ethan on top of him.

Impact after impact hit Ghost’s face, only making him angry and he felt beside him, throwing up his arm to block the punches before his hand was wrapping around a broken piece of glass and he slashed up, cutting across Ethan’s face.

Ethan flinched and Ghost used that to his advantage, shoving him off and standing before cursing as something sharp stabbed into his side, jerking back and feeling his side where a knife now stuck out of it.

He looked at the knife and then made eye contact with Dan, who was watching him with his eyes wide, as he yanked the knife out of his side. Ghost couldn’t help laughing, since they looked so terrified. Good.

Maybe Alex had a point about him being a bit edgy. Regardless, Ghost flipped the knife so he was holding it correctly and stepped forward, slashing across Dan’s face and giving him a matching cut to Ethan’s.

He then kicked Dan in the stomach, sending him flying back, and he elbowed Ethan before Ethan could even really do anything, before grabbing his shoulder and shoving him so he landed on top of Dan.

He went over to Ethan, kicking him off of Dan, and grabbed Dan’s collar, using the hand who held the knife to pull his face mask down and spit out blood to the side. “I won’t fault you two idiots for picking the wrong fucking shop to sack, but if I ever see your faces again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Dan’s eye was already swollen and he just quickly nodded, so Ghost dropped him. “Get the fuck out of my shop.” Ghost growled and they both were immediately up and practically sprinting out of the store, tripping over themselves in their attempt to get out.

Finally, the pain slammed into Ghost and he cursed loudly, looking down at where blood was now staining his black hoodie. Bastards. He shook his head and then cursed again as his phone rang, shaking his head.

Jason showed on the caller ID and Ghost rolled his eyes, knowing he needed to answer or Jason would refuse to give him what he needed. So, he did. “Jason.”

“ Bloody hell, you sound even more irritated than normal.”

“What do you want?” Ghost spit out more blood and put the phone between his cheek and shoulder, going to the shelf and lifting it so it was back upright, glad to see none of the shelves looked bent.

Jason chuckled, softly, which just irritated Ghost more. “ Am I still coming by, after your shift, to give you that shit?”

“It’d be nice.” Ghost grunted, putting all of the snacks back on the shelf, though he didn’t do it very neatly. Fuck that. He noticed that most of the money was still on the counter, so he shrugged and went to it, putting it all back in the till.

“ See you then. ”

“Wait. Grab a first aid kit.”

“... Why?”

Ghost resisted growling in pain, having had to walk through Jason cauterizing the stab wound, since it was in too odd of an angle for Ghost to do it himself. “Christ, Simon. How did you manage this?”

“Two idiots sacked the shop.” Ghost muttered, gritting his teeth as Jason cleaned the fresh burn before finally bandaging it. “I defended it.”

“You could have just rang the police.” Jason rolled his eyes.

Ghost shrugged and rolled his shirt back down, only having raised enough of it for Jason to bandage him. “Did you bring my shit?”

“Your shit?? You haven’t even paid me, yet. You’re lucky I’m bringing it at all, since it’ll practically take a fortnight for you to pay me for it.”

“You still bring it.” Ghost reminded, taking a paper bag as it was handed to him. Self medicating, another cope with the perpetual boredness.

“You’re welcome.” Jason grumbled before hopping up and sitting on the wooden pallets beside Ghost, getting out a cigarette and lighting it. Ghost took it before he could start to smoke it and Jason just sighed and lit another. “You’re a prick.”

Ghost grunted in response, lifting his mask to take a long drag from the cigarette and watching some stray cats run across the street. “There was a kid there. Before they started to rob the store. He looked scared shitless.”

“Yeah, no wonder.” Jason agreed and then sighed. “Well, did you get all of the aggression out of your system?”

“Sure.” Ghost lied. No, no he hadn’t. He probably never would. Knocking punching bags down from the ceiling didn’t help, and neither had this. “Feel better.” That wasn’t a complete lie, he did feel… almost lighter.

“I saw that sergeant the other day. The one you guys call Soap? Asked me about you.”

“What did you say?” Ghost asked, though he honestly doubted Jason had said anything. Jason hardly knew anything.

Jason went quiet before sighing. “Just told him the truth. You hardly talk to me, either. All he really did was ask how you are, anyway. Mentioned worrying you’d do something drastic to yourself.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I will.” Ghost shrugged, again. “Maybe I’ll jump off a bridge or-”

“Don’t joke like that.” Jason sighed, sounding exhausted. “Simon, you’d do it. We all know you would.”

Ghost went silent and continued to watch the cats. “Maybe.” He finally said before taking another drag from the cigarette and shaking his hand out as it started to hurt, again. “You can tell him where I work if he comes to you, again.”

Jason simply nodded, Ghost could see it out of the corner of his eye, and Ghost finished off his cigarette before stomping it out and discarding the butt of it. “Thanks for my shit. I’ll get you the money later.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jason just snorted before getting up as well. However, before he even really got a distance away, he glanced back before turning around. “That kid. Did you make them let him go?”

Ghost sighed but nodded. “I did.” He knew what Jason’s next question would be.

“Why?”

Hesitantly, Ghost looked at Jason before sighing again and shaking his head. “He reminded me of Tommy.”

Jason’s eyes immediately moved away from Ghost and he turned back around. “Try to get some sleep, Ghost.” He mumbled before finally heading off.

Ghost furrowed his brows for a few small moments before shaking it off and heading back to his flat, which was… empty. It was an open floor plan and Alex and Alejandro had both came and helped him move in.

Entirely independent of each other, too, apparently.

Rodolfo had been there, though he’d mostly just sat with Ghost while Alex and Alejandro did most of the work and then he’d used Ghost’s kitchen to cook a decently sized dinner. If they hadn’t done that, Ghost was fairly positive he’d have killed himself.

Ghost shook his head and pulled off his clothing before falling into bed. He kept the curtains closed and no one ever came by, so he was comfortable enough to show his body. “Show” being used lightly, since again. No one was seeing it.

He’d let Soap see it… once…

For weeks afterward, Ghost had considered that shower to be one of the better moments of his life. It had been after they’d gotten trapped in Las Almas and Rodolfo had told them to shower and clean up before heading out.

There’d been a lot of feelings that Ghost was maybe not ready to confront, and maybe he still wasn’t ready. No, he definitely wasn’t ready now. But, Ghost had hardly even thought about it when Soap had asked him to join.

That was a lie, he’d thought very hard about it. His hands had shaken the entire time as Soap had helped him discard his clothing, but Soap hadn’t said a word. Just smiled as he washed Simon’s hair. Not Ghost’s, Simon’s hair.

Asked if he bleached it, which Simon had nodded and said he did. I’m naturally a ginger. But, hard to keep it well taken care of under the mask. So, I bleach it. Considered shaving it all off a few times.

Don’t you dare, LT.

No. Don’t call me that right now. Just… Just use Simon. That’s who I am.

Alright… Simon.

Ghost rolled onto his back and shook his head. Even now, he didn’t feel like Simon. Simon had been a weak tether… He knew people probably considered Simon the weak scared little Sergeant that Ghost kept locked away, but Simon wasn’t afraid to show his face.

Simon didn’t need the military, Ghost did.

Simon had slept around and laughed at dumbass jokes from pretty Sergeants with a bit too much confidence. Simon purred when fingers ran through hair as Soap dripped down his skin. Simon loved and could be loved.

Ghost wasn’t that. Ghost was broken and harsh and liked beating the shit out of people who annoyed him. Ghost growled at everything and tore skin.

Simon would have forgiven Johnny. Simon would have smiled and touched his face as he forgave him. Said he knew Johnny meant no harm by it.

Ghost couldn’t forgive. He’d lost that ability. He’d lost it when he was angry, digging himself out of a grave he had no right to be in. When all he had wanted to do was burn the world to the ground and settled on systematically ending every single person who had ever participated in his torture, who had ever hurt him.

All Ghost knew how to do, anymore, was be angry.

“I am begging you to go fuck yourself.” Ghost cursed into the phone, trying very hard to multitask while he bought a meager amount of groceries for the week. Alex was, again, doing his best to convince Ghost to… live. Or something.

“ Ghost, don’t be like that. When was the last time you… went to the gym or something?”

Actually, Ghost went fairly frequently. It was the only thing that kept the overwhelming anger at bay, sometimes. “Yesterday.”

“ Of course you go to the gym but do nothing else. ”

“I feel like this was a trap question.” Ghost huffed, tossing his items onto the belt. He just pointed at the paper bags before the cashier could ask and turned around, touching his forehead. “I am living. I’m still here.”

“ No. You’re surviving, that’s different. Farah has said she can get a helo to pick you up and you can come here for a few days.”

Actually… that didn’t sound too awful. Ghost considered it.

“ She has ulterior motives, of course. You could help her get rid of a few thorns…”

It was so incredibly tempting, but Ghost knew Alex. He gave an inch and Alex would immediately take a mile, because he knew he could get away with it and Ghost would barely fight him. “I don’t think Price will be happy with that.”

“ Fuck the old man, I’m worried about you. ”

“I can’t.” Ghost nodded to the cashier when they gestured to the card reader, getting out his card. “I think I’m getting used to civilian life.”

“ Yeah, that’s what worries me. Alright, Ghost, just… fuck, man, just talk to someone.”

Ghost just laughed. He said his goodbyes to Alex before shoving the phone back in his pocket, taking his bags and the receipt, pausing as he realized he recognized the cashier. “Dean?” He asked before he could really stop himself.

The cashier, or Dean, the kid from the shop, looked startled before his eyes went wide. “Oh! It’s you! You made them let me go.”

“Yeah.” Ghost frowned and then shook his head. He hoped the kid wouldn’t try to give him the whole “Thanks for saving my life” spiel. He didn’t honestly need or want it.

“I was, uh… Going to come by the shop, but… Well, since you’re here.” Dean got into his pocket before digging out a black box. “I remembered you had one on.”

Ghost tilted his head, hating how curious he immediately was. Okay, he could accept a gift as thanks. He took the box and opened it, seeing a thin silver bracelet, which kind of matched his other. “Thanks…” He said, kind of dumbly, and put the bracelet on, handing the box back. “It’s uh… nice.”

“My mum wants me to invite you to dinner as thanks-”

Ghost just laughed and took his bags. “Yeah, no thanks kid. Stay out of trouble.” He left before the kid could say anything else, not wanting to listen to any attempts to convince him. He was not interested in going to dinner with anyone as thanks for saving their life.

He shook his head as he left the store, shifting both paper bags to one arm so he could check his phone, pausing on the sidewalk for a moment. When he lifted his eyes, he met bright blue ones, and he backed up as he recognized them.

Of course he would, he’d recognize them anywhere.

Soap stood across the street, looking as startled as Ghost felt. Then, Soap started to cross the street, so Ghost turned and immediately started down the sidewalk, back to his flat, hoping if he entirely ignored Soap, that he might just go away.

“Ghost-” Soap called behind him, but Ghost just kept walking, ducking down an alley when he passed by a crowd, and ducking down behind a trash can, watching Soap rush past the opening of the alley.

Ghost rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning around and going out the other side of the alley, just taking the long way home.

He still wasn’t ready to confront Soap. Maybe he never would be.

Simon, I- It’s for your own good.

Ghost. It’s Ghost. That’s who I am.

I-

Goodbye, Soap.

His phone buzzed. He checked it, again shifting the bags, and saw it was his boss. I need you to work a late shift.

Yeah, sure. When?

Tomorrow night, until 2 in the morning.

Ghost sent a thumbs up. He didn’t really care about the money, but he also didn’t have anything better to do, so he’d just take the shift.

Really, it’d just be cutting into his “get high and mope” time.

God, the great and legendary Ghost, who the mere thought of had had people shaking, had had them terrified. Recruits watched him with awe. Hell, people would whisper his name even when they were countries apart because they were terrified of invoking his wrath.

And every night between 11 and 3, he would get absurdly fucking high and desperately fight to be able to produce just one fucking tear.

How the mighty fall.

Ghost shook it off and finally made it to his apartment, going up to his door, and then immediately turning around as he heard footsteps approach, growling in frustration as he saw Soap. “Fuck, you’re stubborn.”

“You used to like that about me.” Soap answered before putting his hands up. “I just want to talk, Ghost.”

“I don’t.” Ghost muttered, unlocking his door and going inside. “I don’t ever want to.”

“Ghost, please…” Soap pleaded, putting his hand on the door before Ghost could shut it. Ghost had enough strength he could just slam it, anyway, but… he didn’t and just looked away from Soap. “Ghost…”

“Fine.” Ghost rolled his eyes and backed away from the door, gesturing for Soap to come in. He shut the door behind him and Ghost went to go put his groceries away. “What do you want?”

“To talk, like I said.”

“Fine. What about?”

“I… I’m sorry-”

“No.” Ghost shook his head. “I do not want to hear your apologies, I do not forgive you. So…” He waved his hand a little. “Pick something else.” He looked up, seeing Soap looked almost startled.

Soap almost looked unsure what else to do and his eyes moved to look around the apartment. “It’s… nice.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ghost shook his head, again, and wondered if people could hear his brain rattle when he did that. “Alex and Alejandro helped me set it up.”

“I like it.” Soap moved and sat at a small kitchen table that Ghost had. Reluctantly, Ghost moved and sat across from him, watching Soap think. He was very expressive when he thought, his eyes would shift around, his jaw would clench and unclench, his hands would flex. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” Ghost asked, leaning back in his chair. “You wouldn’t have to if you didn’t… you know, sign off that you thought I needed to be discharged.”

Soap flinched and Ghost almost felt bad. Almost. “Ghost… I’m sorry. ”

“If it happened again, would you do it again?”

Soap didn’t answer before he was nodding. “I would.”

“Then you’re not sorry. Sorry is a synonym for remorseful.” Ghost got up and went to a bookshelf he had, getting out a dictionary. “Remorse, defined as deep regret or guilt for a wrong committed. You don’t think you were wrong and I doubt you regret it.” He moved and dropped the book on the table, watching Soap jump again. “So, you’re not sorry.”

Soap watched him, his eyes wide, and Ghost went to his bed, dropping onto it and covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m done entertaining guests. Goodbye, Soap.”

“Ghost-”

“ Goodbye , Soap.” Ghost reiterated. He peeked out from under his arm when he heard Soap move, and Soap seemed to hesitate before getting up.

Soap, however, then picked up the dictionary, flipping through the pages. “Sorry. Define, feeling distress, especially through sympathy with someone else's misfortune. So, I am sorry.” Soap sighed and then put the dictionary down.

“Goodbye, Soap.”

Soap looked at Ghost before his shoulders dropped and he nodded. “Alright. Goodbye, Ghost.” Then, Soap left, and Ghost rolled onto his stomach, glaring at a wall.

Fuck Soap.

He didn’t get much time to wallow, though. God, it was like everyone had some sort of bullshit sensor that sensed when Ghost wanted to be fucking left alone. Jason.

Groaning, he grabbed his phone and put it to his ear. “What?”

“ Don’t snap at me. I’ll stop giving you that shit. Anyway, one of those guys that robbed you… did they have a dragon tattoo?”

Ghost had to think about it before frowning. “Yeah… one of those punks, Ethan, did. It was coiled in a spiral.”

“ Fuck! Look, they’re part of a real gang… And they’re angry. They want to kill you.”

“Let them try.” Ghost put his phone between his cheek and ear, sitting up and grabbing his laptop. “What are they even going to do? I’ve wiped out worse than gangs.”

“ Yeah, when you had John Price and the fucking British military behind your ass. You just barely even have yourself! What are you going to do if 30-40 gang members come after you?”

Ghost chuckled. Jason didn’t really know about Roba or his cartel. He didn’t know what Ghost had done. “I can handle it.”

“ Simon. Please.”

“I’m not going to get killed, Jason. I’ll be fine.” Ghost sighed and picked up his phone again, putting it on speaker. “What’s the gang’s name?”

“ Why would I tell you?! You’re just going to do something stupid!! Simon, please just lay low.”

“I’m not going to do that.” Ghost shook his head, laying back in the bed. “If they want to kill me, they can take their best shot.”

“ I’ll call Price. ”

“You don’t have his number.”

“ Simon, please.”

Ghost sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine. I won’t… seek them out. But I’m not laying low. I’ll just continue life as normal and then… if they come for me, I’ll defend myself. Anyway, I have to go to bed, so…” He pulled away his phone to hang up.

“ Simon, Simon!”

Ghost hung up, anyway, and sighed softly. He searched the internet for the spiraled dragon tattoo, but after about twenty minutes of searching, he’d found only a tattoo shop that had a neck tattoo with the same coiled dragon.

Open all night. Perfect.

So, he got back up, grabbed his keys again as well as his phone and wallet and headed down the stairs. The tattoo shop was one he sort of knew. Rather, he knew of, as a couple of Jason’s mates had gotten tattoos there. But, he’d never personally been.

When he got there, he rolled his shoulders before going in, trying to look as big and imposing as possible. He went up to the counter, where a man sat, looking bored. He could hear the buzzing of tattoo needles as he walked, the murmuring of artists making chit chat with their clients.

It was surprisingly busy, considering it was close to 1:30 AM. However, he ignored that, tapping on the counter when he got up there, watching the man look at him. Ghost looked on the wall and got down the coiled dragon tattoo.

“Sorry, mate, we don’t do repeat tattoos. You thinking of something similar?” He asked, and his shirt said Michael. So, that’s what Ghost decided to call him.

“No, Michael, I am not.” Ghost laid the photo out on the counter, tapping it. “I want to know who got that tattoo and what gang they belong to.”

Michael looked at him and then he chuckled, whistling. Ghost raised an eyebrow and looked around, seeing that most of the artists had stopped tattooing, now looking at him. His eyes did pick up a few weapons here and there.

So, he sighed, straightened, and rolled his shoulders. “I’m not afraid of a fight.” He informed Michael, who laughed. “I just want to know.”

Michael shook his head. “Are you afraid of death? Maybe you ought to turn back around and leave. Nice and easy like, yes?”

Ghost narrowed his eyes and he slammed his hands on the glass counter, leaning in real close to Michael. “My name is Simon Riley. No, I’m not afraid of death, however you very much should be because if you don’t give me the information I want, that pen,” he gestured to a pen very close to his hand, “is going to lodge directly into your trachea.”

Michael squinted and looked about ready to fire off before one of the older artists came over, his face pale. “Did you say… Simon Riley?”

Ghost straightened and frowned, turning to the old man. “I did.” He nodded, glancing over the others and seeing a few other confused faces.

The old man immediately shoved his weapon, a pole, into Ghost’s hands and backed up, putting his hands up. “I… I… I want no hand in fighting phantoms.” He turned and rushed to what looked like the back and Ghost raised an eyebrow as he heard a couple locks click.

He turned back to Michael, who now looked very apprehensive and concerned. “Let me try this again-”

He barely had to finish the threat as Michael was immediately spilling everything, complete with pictures and a home address. Ghost laughed victoriously as he exited the tattoo shop, shaking his head. No hand in fighting phantoms. He liked that one.

Ethan Kurt… Ethan had shoved his hand into fighting the wrong phantom.

No, that line sucked.

Tap.

Ghost was so fucking bored. With the threat of being attacked being supposed to be hanging over his head, this was dull. He was starting to think Jason was entirely full of shit, but… he decided he would remain vigilant regardless.

Oh well.

Tap.

Was it really still only 11:00PM? Granted, he only had three hours left but… fuck. Maybe after this, he would call Alex. He knew it would shock the hell out of him, maybe that’d be hilarious. Listen to him stammer and try not to say anything about it.

No, because then he’d feel bad and feel like a bad friend and that was bullshit. Ghost didn’t want to be pathetic, wondering if he was a “bad friend.” He was a horrible friend, probably one of the worst, he knew that. He was a grown, almost 30 year old man. Of course he knew that.

Of course.

Tap.

Lights.

Ghost perked up, seeing what looked like flashlights shining around outside. He ducked down just a little, going to the side window and peeking out, seeing a group of people start to go around to the outside of the building. He could make out 4 which…

If this was the gang supposedly attacking him, he would barely have to do anything. Knock some heads together, break some limbs, done. That was… almost disappointing.

He returned back to the counter and decided to play nonchalant, sitting on a stool and getting out his phone to play on it. Actually, he’d found some pretty interesting phone games. Card games, those match three games. Some military games which he liked to critique and laugh at.

They were good to pass the time with and usually didn’t require much thinking, so he kept them around. Currently, he was playing a word game with Rodolfo. Both actually had a fairly high vocabulary in American English, all points considering, so it could get fun. Rodolfo had actually switched the game’s language to Spanish a few times to help Ghost practice.

However, he didn’t go easy on him or help, either, so Ghost lost at an… honestly embarrassing ratio. Alejandro had just told him to take it in stride, that Rodolfo doesn’t really think of those things. Which… Ghost knew that. He knew Rodolfo was similar to him. Sure, he could blame most of it on the trauma but… some of it was genetic. He knew that. Rodolfo was the same.

Besides, it had helped a little. Just a little.

Actually, he missed Alejandro and Rodolfo. He’d never say it to their faces, but it’d been a while since he saw them. It was nearing Christmas, so he knew they’d be taking their forced leave. He also knew if he even hinted at the idea, Alejandro would have a helo down the next day. So, maybe he could go for a couple days. He’d love Rodolfo’s cooking again, and going to bars with Alejandro sounded really nice.

God, fuck, Alex was rubbing off on him or something. What was this… hope?? Disgusting.

Ghost immediately shook it off, just playing a random word against Rudy, laughing softly when he saw two little ?? back because Ghost usually played big words that had Rodolfo cussing him out. Then, he stuck his phone back in his pocket, hearing the bell of the door chime.

He stood, going back to the register, before raising an eyebrow as he didn’t see anyone there. Hmm, he knew the obvious answer would be that they’d changed their mind and left, but… Ghost didn’t trust like that.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he realized that he was being taunted. Lured. They wanted him to go outside. Carefully, he felt under the counter where he’d stuck a shotgun, as well as several shells, and then he leaned against the counter, waiting. He wasn’t prey, and he wanted them to know that.

Ghost checked the time, seeing it was now midnight, and he took a breath, reluctantly leaving the counter to check everything he’d set up. The back door had a nailbomb set just right for when it was opened, the side door had a packet of noisemakers so he’d hear if it opened.

And, the front door had a bell. Everything else was in a duffel bag behind the counter. He would… admit that he may have had small kleptomanic tendencies and had maybe stolen a few things when he was being discharged.

Obviously things like semtex and frags would not be good to use in the store, but hey, flashes and stuns were free game. No, he didn’t care if he ended up blinding a few punks, he had plans to do more than blind them.

And then all of his copious amounts of knives. So many knives.

Tap.

More lights. It seemed they had noticed he wasn’t biting the bait, as several of the lights had started to surround the small building. And finally, someone came in. Dan. He recognized him fairly easily, even though his hood was down now.

“Hello, old man.” Dan said, in a tone clearly meant to be taunting. He had a gun, something a bit heavier than the .22 they’d had before.

“I’m 30.” Ghost sighed, shaking his head. “I turned 30 last month.”

Dan paused, clearly started. “You’re only thirty?” He blinked before immediately shaking it off. “Whatever. You know why I’m here.”

“Maybe.” Ghost acknowledged, moving to sit on the stool again. “I’m confused why you decided you needed to bring… 30? 30 other prats with you.”

Dan glared at him, before shaking his head. “Nobody fucks with me and gets away with it.”

“I’m confused, mate, you tried to rob me.” Ghost laughed, crossing his arms. “You came into my work and had your mate put a gun to my head. Then you tried to rob me.”

“You could have just given us the money and we would have left!” Dan snapped. Ghost could see a bandage on his cheek, which appeared to be in need of changing. “So, now, we’re going to bloody kill you.”

“Sure.” Ghost laughed, nodding. “Go ahead. Take your best shot.” He hummed, standing and leaning against the counter. “Maybe you want to go and reconvene with your buddies. If you leave, I won’t do anything. I won’t seek you. I won’t hunt you down. But… if you stay, well… you’ve been warned.”

Dan’s glare only deepened. “You’re quite cocky.”

“I think I’ve earned it.” Ghost said. “Like I said. You have one chance.”

Dan appeared about to answer, likely to make some stupid quip, but then Ghost heard a small explosion from the back and some screaming, and he chuckled. “Too late.”

Dan stared behind Ghost into the back, clearly stunned, and Ghost ducked down, grabbing the shotgun and shooting at Dan. Dan was quick to duck out of the way, barely managing to be missed by any spray.

Then, Ghost was having to duck down to avoid gun spray, rummaging in the bag for a smoke and tossing it into the back, before grabbing a knife and ducking through the doorway. He followed the sound of coughing, able to make out five distinct individual coughs.

The first was fairly close to the doorway that led to the front of the store, so he swept their legs and slit their throat, not wasting time to look at their face or even really wait for them to die. He just shoved them directly in the path of another, who stumbled backwards over them.

They hit the ground rather hard and Ghost pounced on the opportunity, stabbing them through the eye and directly into their brain. He backed up as he noticed two figures come towards him, watching them stumble through the smoke.

One tripped on his friend’s body and they landed right on top of the pair, and Ghost could just make out their eyes widening, before he threw the knife through their temple. The second spotted him right as he did that, and he rolled to the side to avoid being shot, throwing the smoke canister at them.

It hit them square in the stomach and they doubled over, coughing, so Ghost lunged forward and yanked the gun out of their hands. He stuck it right into their chest and shot through, sending them backwards.

Footsteps.

He whipped around and shot who had just tried to sneak up on him through the head, right as the smoke started to clear. Rushing, he slid to shut the door before sprinting back out to the front, narrowly ducking in time to avoid being hit in the head by the butt of a gun.

He slammed the butt of his own gun into the person who tried to attack him, recognizing Ethan who hit the ground with a snarl. “Fuck.” Ghost growled. “It’s clear you don’t want to be doing this, why are you?”

Ethan paused, clearly surprised, and then he glared. “Dan’s like my brother. Wherever he goes, I go.”

“Say hello to him in hell, then, I guess.” Ghost muttered, and went to shoot him, before crying out in surprise as something tore through his side. He looked down at his side, seeing a gun shot wound.

Being smart, though, he still shot Ethan through the head, cursing, and ignoring yelling behind him. He ducked back through the doorway of the back, checking how many bullets were left in the magazine of his gun. Enough, but he didn’t really want to use it, anyway.

So, he tossed it to the side and yanked the knife out of that temple he’d thrown it through, patting the dead body and having to resist the knee jerk reaction to thank it. Instead, he crouched low and stayed close to the wall and the doorway, listening and hearing several footsteps near.

He could see his duffel bag just a small distance away and now he had to consider if it was worth diving for it to retrieve another smoke grenade, before ducking again as more gun spray came. He winced as he saw if he’d stayed where he was, several bullets would have landed directly in his body.

Bollocks.

He shook his head and stayed as low as possible, ducking through the doorway and sliding to his bag, very glad to see a flash was sitting at the top. Turning, he depinned and tossed it right in the middle of a group coming towards him, before covering his eyes.

When he opened them, he saw they were stumbling over themselves, which almost had him laughing softly, but he resisted and took a very small moment to check the wound on his side, cursing as he saw it was an all the way through gunshot.

However, the placement of it made him think that whoever shot him really didn’t know what they were doing.

He grabbed the shotgun, and turned, blasting the small group of four he’d flashed, before panting and peeking over the counter to see how many were in the store, glad to see that so far there was none.

Carefully inching to the group of four, he growled as he saw none of them were Dan. “Where’s Dan?” He asked one, which was wheezing and holding a hole in his stomach. He seemed to be hit with the majority of the blast.

“Fuck you.” They coughed, blood coming up with it. “They’re gonna fucking kill you.”

“I’ve gotten ten of you.” Ghost rolled his eyes, ignoring a pulse of pain from his side. He killed them with his knife, swiftly, and went to the next one, which was holding his leg. “Where’s Dan?”

“I’m not telling you-” He killed them, too. Fuck them.

Of course, the other two had to be just as stubborn, and they went just as fast. It seemed his enemies were reconvening, so he took the opportunity to as well, very shittily bandaging up his side. Another scar to add to the pile.

God, he was having so much fun. He felt like he was back on a mission, again, clearing out some enemy encampment. Adrenaline coursed through every vein in his body and he loved the feeling of it. He missed this so fucking much.

Carefully, he peeked over the counter again, frowning as he saw nothing. No lights, no people. Nothing… Well, he still saw the dead bodies, so he knew this wasn’t a case of him losing his mind. He narrowed his eyes and slowly stood, ready to duck down at the slightest hint of gun fire, but… he saw nothing.

Even still, he grabbed a smoke grenade out of the duffel bag, only having another flash and two stuns. He uh… hadn’t been able to grab much.

He also put new shells into the shotgun, keeping both close as he carefully inched out from behind the counter, peeking around the shelves and seeing that there was no one. Nothing. Considering, he ducked into the back, checking the security cameras.

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have the code, but he could fucking care less. He watched the footage and saw… they were all gone. No one was around the building.

Had they gotten freaked out and left?? No… He seriously doubted that.

But if they hadn’t left, what the fuck was this? Did they plan to come back at a later day and try to surprise him? Maybe. That made the most sense. Whatever, he’d be ready. He did have to figure out how he’d explain the bullet holes and dead bodies but… eh, he doubted Price would let him take the fall for it.

Plus, he’d disappeared once, he could do it again.

So, he went out to the front, planning to drag each body to the back and stack them in a pile. A neat little pile. Then, he’d finish out his shift by mopping up all of the blood and go the fuck home.

Sleep sounded very nice, he wouldn’t lie. For once, it sounded fantastic.

So, once he’d made his little pile, he went back out to the front and grabbed the mop, starting to clean up the blood. Maybe if Price did take care of this, he’d go ahead and talk to Soap. This adrenaline had him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Warm and fuzzy enough to consider trying to talk to Soap.

He didn’t hear the car in time.

Crash.

The impact sent him flying across the shop and he hit a shelf hard, the air knocked completely out of his lungs. He fell to the ground, coughing and rolling onto his back. Fuck, something was broken.

He had no hope of dragging himself to his feet, he was far too stunned, and he coughed again, closing his eyes, before opening them to someone crouching down and getting in his face. Dan sneered at him, “I outsmarted you.”

Ghost laughed, tasting blood, and he managed to reach up to yank down his mask and spit the blood on Dan’s face, seeing him splutter and jerk back. He then snarled and raised a fist to punch Ghost.

Ghost closed his eyes, preparing for the impact, but it never came. Instead, he felt weight land on his body, and when he opened his eyes, Dan was slumped over, a gaping hope splurting blood from his head.

Making a face, he shoved Dan off to the best of his ability, before someone was grabbing his hand and yanking him to his feet. “Dude. You just had to bring shit to yourself.”

Ghost immediately jerked to look at the person, recognizing Alex’s voice and his face immediately. “Alex?? Bloody hell, what the fuck are you doing here?” He didn’t think about it, limping forward and hugging his friend.

Alex was clearly shocked, but he hugged back and chuckled. “Your friend, Jason, called me. Apparently, he got one of my phone numbers from your phone. I think he thought he would be calling Price, but I came out all the same.”

Ghost would have been mad at Jason, but he was honestly glad to see Alex. “I had it on my own,” he joked, before wincing at a lot of pain in his sides. “Sort of.” He mumbled.

“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Alex snorted before nudging his head in the direction of the vehicle. Ghost looked over, recognizing Farah as she cleared out several more of the gang members, a young woman with her.

“I thought she didn’t leave Urzikstan.” Ghost frowned, raising an eyebrow as she and the young woman finally came over.

“I do not attack on the offense.” Farah stated, smiling as she came over. “But, I’m always willing to help out a friend if they need it.” She held out her hand and Ghost gladly shook it, before shaking his head. “Alex was going to come alone. This is Malika, my love.”

Malika smiled and also shook Ghost’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Alex and Farah have said a lot.”

Ghost took a breath before shaking his head. “I thought I had it.” He admitted, grunting. “I didn’t expect to be hit by a car.” The pain was almost overwhelming but… he’d again had worse. However, he did allow himself to pant a little. “Thank you.”

“Dude. What’s up with you? You’re never this sappy.” Alex joked and punched Ghost’s shoulder, before wincing as blue and red lights appeared, as well as sirens. “Fuck.”

“Get out of here.” Ghost said, gesturing to the back. “Alex, you’re still a traitor to the United States and I don’t think Farah will be treated too kindly.”

Alex appeared to hesitate before nodding. “I’ll find you tomorrow and we can talk, alright?”

“Alright.” Ghost nodded. He went to the cigarette case and got a box and a lighter, nodding a bye as all three left, almost as fast as they came, and he chuckled softly, going back to Dan’s dead body. “You still lost. Cheers, you slag.” He muttered, before standing and waiting to be arrested.

He didn’t fight his arrest, he didn’t fight being put into cuffs. When he was stuck at a table, he didn’t say anything, just wrestled a cigarette out of the box and pushed his mask up with both hands before fighting to light a cigarette one handed.

“You killed twenty people.” The officer stated. “Twenty gang members. They were heavily armed.”

“You know, that’s a good point. How did they even have weapons? Aren’t you guys supposed to be stopping that?” Ghost leaned back in his seat, blowing out the smoke he’d taken in.

The officer rolled her eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

Ghost took another long drag from the cigarette before slowly letting it out, seeing her phone ring. As she got it out, he chuckled. “I’m a ghost.”

She gave him a look before answering the phone. Within seconds, her face had paled, and he was let go hardly minutes later, with a half mumble to stay out of trouble.

He walked home with a grin on his face.

Alex had just left. While he was there, he and Ghost had discussed him going to Urzikstan, and Ghost had reluctantly promised to consider it. Already, he was thinking of just saying yes, disappearing to Urzikstan and running missions for Farah.

For now, though, he was sipping tea and eating lunch. Outside, too, at a little restaurant he knew and liked. He even hummed a bit as he ate, watching some birds fight over a piece of bread. What a fitting metaphor.

Soap came and sat in the chair across from him, at first silent. Ghost turned to look at him, sighing. “The charm of your tenacity has worn off, Johnny.”

“I think what I did for you will bring it back.” Soap chuckled. “After your… encounter, I talked to Price. I told him that I was wrong. I was stupid. I talked to Alex and Alejandro and both of them… agreed that you’ve been worse as a civilian. I even tracked down your friend, Jason. He uh… tore me a new one.”

“Oh?” Ghost had to admit, he was a bit shocked by that. “Over?”

“Agreeing with Price that you needed to be discharged.” Soap mumbled and then sighed. “So, I told Price that.. You’re just going to keep getting in trouble if you’re out here. He’s agreed to let you back into the SAS. He’s already pulling strings.”

Ghost blinked at Soap, quite surprised. “You’re bloody joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about that, Ghost.” Soap winced. “He thinks you’re less of a problem in the SAS. In… the 141. He can keep an eye on you and you can’t end up antagonizing another gang.”

Ghost barely resisted exclaiming that they had tried to rob him, just sighing instead. “I don’t know. What if I have another episode again?” He snarked, feeling slightly bad when Soap winced.

“He’s prepared to deal with it.” Soap mumbled.

Ghost considered before shrugging. “I’ll think about it. I have a lot of offers, need to consider my options.”

Soap looked startled before laughing softly. “Alright. Consider it.”

Ghost hesitated before sighing. “Come back to my place… Johnny?”

Soap again looked startled and this time, he took a moment before relaxing.

“Of course, Simon.”

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

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#simon ghost riley #lieutenant simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #cod mw ghost #cod ghost #call of duty modern warfare ii #soapghost mention #alex keller #john soap mactavish #canon universe #oneshot

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tare-anime · 8 months

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Inspired by this amazing art by @nallhir

Her husband never ceased to amaze her (AO3)

-----------------------

Attending a gala always unnerves Yor.

Too many people. Too many eyes on her.

Of course, she has many experiences in attending a gala, most often to do her assassination jobs.

So blending in, or to be more specific, being invisible in a gala has been one of her skills.

That’s not what her concern is.

This time, she has to attend a gala as Loid’s wife.

And the part where she has to do things perfectly so as not to embarrass her husband is actually the thing that makes her nervous.

Because Loid has asked for her help (like she has wanted him to do!). And then he bought her this amazing dress. He even helped her with her hair-do and make-up (she never knew Loid had such a skill. But of course, her husband is perfect in everything!)

At the very least, she has to perform well.

She tries her best to ignore the feeling of eyes following her every movement.

For Loid’s sake!

The music plays and Yor feels dread in her stomach.

This is it….

It is time to dance.

Yor takes a deep breath. When Loid extends his hand, she accepts it.

Just like practice…. Just like practice….

Her husband (thankfully) leads her to the margin of the dancing floor, and he gently guides her hand to rest on his shoulder. She can feel the warmth of his hand placed on the small of her back when they get ready to dance.

“Come closer.” She hears him whisper.

Yor gulps and steps closer, but his hand pulls her even closer until their body nearly flush one another.

Her heart starts to beat faster, but then she hears Loid whisper, “So tell me, what did Anya and Bond have been doing this morning?”

“Huh?”

“I saw the remnants of colorful papers, and the crafting tools weren’t in their places.”

Yor blinks. And she starts to smile. "Oh, Anya was trying to create a photo frame from unused utensils."

The music starts to play, and they start to move. But she hears him continue, "Oh really? Then why didn't I see it among our family photos?"

She chuckles, "That's because she insists on adding flowers and other ornaments on the frame."

"And…?"

Yor starts to let her own body move on pure muscle memory as she giggles recalling the antics of their daughter and dog earlier. "Unfortunately, the ornaments made from paper didn't come out as she envisioned. And despite my reassurance, Anya was upset."

She moves her body in sync with Loid's lead while continuing the story. "So I told her about pressed flowers."

She twirls and extends her arms before returning to Loid's side, and she hears him whisper, "And…?"

"And that's what Anya and Bond have been doing in their room, until you came home."

The first song ends and Yor grins widely, fully aware of what Loid's been doing.

The fact that such a simple tactic works wonders only adds to Yor's amazement toward her husband.

"Thank you, Loid. For always taking care of me."

"Anytime, Yor. It's the least I can do after asking you to accompany me. And I really enjoy your company, by the way." He grins in return.

Their conversation continues when they swing their bodies to follow the second song.

"So, tell me about how to make a beautiful pressed flower? I can't let my daughter and dog beat me in a skill, now can I?"

Yor laughs. "Well… you can start by…"

#spy x family #yor forger #loid forger #twiyor #fluff #sxf fic #sxf drabble #canon universe

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martalove · 4 months

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i lovw th333333m 😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋<333333

#postal #corkscrew rules #штопор жжот #postal 2 #postal dude #canon universe #corkscrew #shtopor

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a-writers-blurbs · 7 months

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Drabble 2

Sesshomaru watched as his Ward and the young fox kit basked in the attention bestowed on them by the Miko. Blankets were laid out, and dishes from dinner put up as the two children prepared for bed.

He watched as she tucked them in tenderly, a kiss placed on each of their foreheads. With a soft hum and a sad smile, the Miko turned his way.

Idily, he wondered why she smiled when it was so very clear she was anything but happy. Then he wondered why he cared. She was a human. His half-brother's discarded Miko.

Why was she here again?

Oh yes, his ward refused to leave the Miko behind. He didn't understand how allowing the Miko and her kit to follow him, in the midst of what he assumed was a lovers' spat, was a good idea at all.

Why had he allowed it again? His musing came to an abrupt hault as the sad, discarded Miko sat down - rather ungracefully - next to him.

"Sesshomaru-sama, I have a request."

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 1 year

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Guys I am on the edge I am losing it. I haven’t written fanfiction since freshmen year of high school, since then I’ve said all my writing will be publishable. And yet I am mere seconds away from losing myself to a Sully family adopting Spider fic what is wrong with me. The chokehold this series has on me. Anyways here are some headcanons that have been giving me holes in my brain:

-All the Sully's constantly argue over who Spider likes best, especially Kiri and Lo'ak. "That's my best friend" "NO, that's my best friend." "I knew him first." "Well, that's not fair you were born first. I've known him my whole life." Then dark horses Tuk and Neteyam come in like "You'd be surprised to learn spider actually likes me best." For a while after Tuk was born the competition was HEAVILY in her favor and everyone was mad about it. Neteyam doesn’t participate unless he wants to annoy someone, but no one thinks he’s in the running as much as he actually is. Spider has no idea this competition exists and whoever tells him is instantly disqualified so he never will.

-This shit absolutely applies to Jake and Neytiri too if/when they officially adopt him. Which parent Spider likes best competition. Who can get him to call them mom/dad first wins. It’s absolutely RUTHLESS and everyone knows about it except Spider. I’m fairly certain Jake and Neytiri’s love language is borderline unhealthy competition. Bets are made, sabotage is attempted, Tonowari definitely tries to help his bestie Jake and whatever plan they come up with is dumb as hell, I don’t know what it is but it’s stupid. Ultimately, Neytiri wins. Jake is not sad about it actually.

-Tuk is every parents worst nightmare. Her siblings are so much older than her, she has been desensitized to everything. When Lo’ak and Kiri were Tuk’s age they were fighting over a toy, but Tuk is pretty sure she’s ready for an Ikran. She is the ringleader of all her friendgroups and she can manipulate anyone into anything. She was the youngest to do everything in her family just to keep up with her siblings, and that means she knows so much more than all her friends her age. She taught them all the swear words they know, and she definitely told every child in the clan how babies are made as soon as Lo’ak told her and they were ALL way too young to know.

-The entire clan is worried Jake and Neytiri will have another accident child. Only they were surprised by Tuk, no one else was.

-Neteyam confides in Spider in a way he can’t with his siblings. Not only are they the oldest, but I think he isn’t afraid to not be perfect in front of Spider (This is why Neteyam is Spider’s favorite jkjk). I think they have a lot of chill talks up on the mountains, or they go flying and Neteyam’s just like “What if I fail at the hunt tomorrow?” or some shit and Spiders like “Well, it would be about time, and then you would just try again.”

-Spider is Mo’at’s least problematic grandchild, and the one that annoys her the least consistently. Kiri is still her fav tho. There is no Mo’at’s fav competition because everyone knows Kiri would win, but sometimes Lo’ak says he’s her fav because their names are similar and then everyone calls him stupid.

-Speaking of Mo’at, I’m pretty sure her and Jake get drunk together at least once a month. I don’t know what they talk about but GOD I want to. Only Norm has ever been invited and that was like one time and it’s because he and Mo’at are secret besties.

-Spider gives the best advice ever, because of being the only human child on Pandora he has empathy for everyone. He’s the best person to go to if you did something wrong because he’s for sure done something worse. Unfortunately he is incapable of taking any advice himself, and he is def suicidal a lil. You cannot convince me that kid doesn’t wake up every day wanting to die a little bit.

-For a solid half a year certified dumbasses Lo’ak and Jake were pretty sure Rotxo was some sort of spirit from Eywa because they never met his parents and never saw him go home and he was always somehow around. They shared this theory with no one but each other, which is good because it’s dumb.

-I think once adopted, Spider is a mama’s boy. He craves physical attention and he has been raised essentially Na’vi in a way that Jake hasn’t. I think he would connect with Neytiri’s parenting style more, I think they’d do a lot of weird shit together that the other kids would rather die than help with, like cooking or mending shit. I think Spider would be literally delighted to help with boring household chores with his mother and that’s so mamas boy of him. He’s a “mother, do you need help with dinner, can I do the dishes so you can sit down?” kid while all the rest of them are gagging and calling him a suck up in the background.

-It comes to a head when he tries to help make lunch instead of going surfing with Lo’ak, Kiri, and Ao’nung, and they have to have an intervention. It’s very serious, everyone was there, Tsireya, Ao’nung, Rotxo obviously came because I’m convinced he doesn’t actually have a home. They treat Spider like a five year old going to his first day of preschool.

-Spider and Neytiri also both have experienced such immense loss, and it shaped them both so much at such a young age. I think the way they would talk about it would be similar, and it would be a connection discovered that wouldn’t be vocally acknowledged often but they would both have that. It’s a mutual understanding that the others can’t get as much that helps them get past any animosity and fear. It takes them longer to get to casual conversation actually.

-If Spider ever got an Avatar Mo’at would make them put off the full transfer until he was older 50% because of his safety and 90% because he’s forced to spend time with her every night when he goes back to his human body no matter where they are. She is vocally grumbling always about how her family never visits. He does not pretend to hate it.

-It started out because Spider wasn’t taking care of his human body well enough, for sure. He’s Jake coded. Mo’at was on Feed New Grandson For Daughter duty. But now it evolved and he’s popping out of the link after a long day of Spearfishing with the Boys (I believe this is Tonowari and Jake’s fav father/son + Rotxo bonding activity) and Mo’at is there with Norm and Spider’s dinner like “you will not believe what this idiot warrior did” and Norms like “Do tell” and Spider has his second dinner with the HOTTEST TEA in the Omaticaya camp that Norm and Mo’at can spill. And one time he’s like “Lo’ak fell off a tree today because he’s too used to the water now” and then when Lo’ak finds out about that he pushes Spider out of a tree (from a safe height).

-(He has to recount this tea the next morning to Jake, this is what he and Mo’at did when drinking, he pretends he wants to be up on current affairs in his former tribe but Jake Sully is a gossip whore and he isn’t hiding it well).

-No one else is interested in this but Lo’ak. He cares so much. It’s Spider spilling the hottest tea with so much disinterest (he only cares because it’s Mo’at and Norm) and Lo’ak and Jake like gasping and then pretending they didn’t.

-Obviously Kiri and Spider’s bond is insane and unbreakable but I think one time he stepped on a bug and she didn’t speak to him for the entire day. He probably has nightmares about that day. But also Lo’ak did the same thing once and she didn’t talk to him for a week so.

-I like to think the rest of the Omaticaya do love Spider cause he’s just that weird little guy that’s always like crouched on the rocks and in the trees and shit. I think he and the Sully’s do have other friends and do spend time with others, but Spider, Kiri, Lo’ak, and then later Tuk, all spend literally every waking moment together because they all can’t escape that little feeling that they don’t quite fit in.

-Tuk doesn’t feel this way she just wants to be there. Neteyam totally feels this way he just feels like he has to be responsible.

-Neteyam also spent every waking moment with them until he had Adult Business to attend to, like learning to be in charge. Now he just spends all his free time with them. His friends are probably like “Why do you want to spend all your time with your little siblings?” and he has Vietnam flashbacks to the 17 things that Lo’ak and Spider did that almost got them killed that week alone (but also he loves being with them all).

-When the Sully’s leave Mo’at is really sad but Norm visits her annoyingly for weird advice that he doesn’t actually need every day and she pretends to hate it but doesn’t because they are secret buddies.

-Idk if this even happens to Na’vi but Neteyam’s human dna finds a way and he goes prematurely grey for sure. Kids so stressed it’s a miracle he doesn’t go into cardiac arrest.

-Tonowari and Ronal literally don’t know where Rotxo comes from half the time. He’s just always there. One time when Ao’nung was a baby Tonowari turned around for like 15 seconds to stoke the fire and then there were two babies, Ao’nung and Rotxo, on the mat.

-Lo’ak doesn’t think things through. Spider has no self preservation skills. There is a difference. So when Lo’ak suggests a dumb thing Spider will probably do it first cause he has recognized and acknowledged the risks, he just doesn’t care, whereas Lo’ak hasn’t realized yet. So he’ll test it out for Lo’ak first. The amount of dumb shit Lo’ak did went way up when Spider was captured because his human test dummy wasn’t there.

-Once with the Metkayina, Spider and Lo’ak have found a kindred dumbass in Ao’nung (+ Rotxo). He’s never thought a single decision through in his entire life (neither has Rotxo, he’s just here to vibe). They are menaces.

-Unfortunately for everyone, Jake and Tonowari created them from their own very loins, and they too, are dumbasses. If the RDA ever leave them alone the amount of bad decisions the five of them (and Rotxo) will get up to will be astronomical. There’s at least one incident that gets Jake and Tonowari exiled from their respective marui for the night and they have an Adult Men sleepover on the beach that is like the most fun either of them ever had, but they pretend it was no fun at all when they come back.

-After that Tonowari replaces Mo’at as Jake’s monthly drinking/gossip buddy. Tonowari has never met most of the Omaticayans, but he could ruin lives with some of the info he has.

-This one might be out of left field, but I think every single Sully child has had a crush to varying degrees on Spider at some point. I think Spider has never even remotely fathomed that anyone on planet Pandora has ever or will ever like him, and if anyone ever did he might just die of shock. He thinks he’s dying a virgin, probably at a young age.

-Ronal and Neytiri go on pretending to hate each other long after they became friends just for fun. No one figured it out until Neytiri was the first choice babysitter for Ronal and Tonowari’s new baby for like the tenth time.

-If Spider ever beats anyone at anything he believes they let him win and literally nothing can change his mind. He’s convinced baby Tuk let him win in a foot race one time, and that Lo’ak fell out of a tree on purpose to let him win a climbing race. The most criminal one is his claim that Ao’nung got a hole in his net intentionally so all his fish escaped and Spider had more. The joke is that no one other than Neteyam or Tsireya would ever let him win.

-The amount of times a Sully child accidentally dislocated Spider’s arm trying to pull him somewhere is way higher than anyone wants to admit, but Spider can now relocate his arm on his own like a pro. His pain tolerance is way higher than anyone’s should be. Kid just braces that shit against a tree and pops it back in and everyone is horrified every time. The first time it happened in front of the Metkayina kids Ao’nung threw up and then Lo’ak laughed until he cried. Spider shouldn’t use that arm for at least the rest of the day but he used it to shove Lo’ak for Ao’nung.

-Spider loves babies, will stop, drop everything to watch any baby, because he knows how much Na’vi treasure children and he never feels more important then when he gets to watch a little kid because he was trusted to keep the kid safe.

-Lo’ak and Spider are equally matched at sparring because Spider knows where Lo’ak is ticklish.

-One time Kiri and Lo’ak had a sleepover with Spider at the lab. Norm pretended to hate it but then let them sleep in the room with Grace’s tank and also made them cookies. It was the best night of Spider’s life. Tuk was too little to go and threw the most massive fit ever about it so Neteyam stayed back to keep her company and he was Very Mature and Not At All Jealous about it.

-They brought him back a cookie, and then everyone was tired all day because literally no one slept except for Tuk. They all took a nap halfway through the day all in a little puppy pile and that was the real sleepover.

-Post sleepover, the amount of printed out images of human Jake Sully from video logs with like dumb things drawn on him that have made their way around camp is insane. Norm made the kids draw mustaches on him for sure. Jake can’t take a single solitary step without there being a picture of him with a dick for a nose on a tent pole. He was probably stressed about something and this was Lo’ak’s brilliant Cheer Up Dad plan. It was the worst plan ever, but for some unknown reason it worked, and Jake keeps cackling at them like a crazy person when he sees them. Retaliatory Norm pics are in the works, Jake got all the kids in on it this time. Tuk is really good at drawing pa’li shit on Norm’s head.

-Neteyam knows everything about everyone so when he gets in on teasing and jokes his are fucking crazy accurate and targeted, you’ll never recover. Tuk has picked this up from him and she has that little kid talent to destroy you.

-Every single time someone goes somewhere Spider says some shit like “I hope I see you again!” and everyone knows it’s not a joke and no one finds it funny but he can’t stop doing it.

-The pact that was born between Ao’nung and Lo’ak to impress their respective love interests is the Fight Club of all pacts, either would kill the other to keep it quiet and not feel even a little bad about it. Lo’ak teaches Ao’nung to climb trees to impress Neteyam and Ao’nung teaches Lo’ak to surf to impress Tsireya. Ao’nung eats shit so hard that Lo’ak almost literally dies laughing but then Ao’nung doesn’t warn him about rip currents so he can rescue Lo’ak in front of Neteyam like he’s in Baywatch, coming out of the water all dramatically and with a lil hair flip and then presenting him with his half murdered little brother like a gift.

-The Sully children have been divvying up who gets what of Jake’s stuff when he dies since Tuk was like four. Obviously, they will be devastated, but it’ll be a little less sad when Kiri gets Jake’s coolest knife and not Lo’ak, or Tuk gets his best arm band before Neteyam can call dibs even tho it won’t fit her. It was a lot funnier before the RDA came back.

-No one has ever dared to do this to Neytiri’s stuff.

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itzjustsage · 1 year

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Attack on Titan Boys in Romantic Relationships

Featuring: Jean, Marco, Armin, Eren, Bertholdt, Reiner, and Connie.

Content warnings: None This is just fluff.

Note: This is all based on the aot boys durring seasons 1-3. Additionally, these headcannons come from both from the modern au and the orginal aot universe. Lastly, if you have any recommendations or ideas feel free to ask!

Jean Kirschtein

-At first he would be very shy.

-A very passionate lover definitely treats you like a god/goddess.

-Likes to show you off to his friends.

-Kisses you on the forehead or cheek a lot!

-Always says good morning, and good night.

-He likes to be reassured that you will always love him.

-Gives you flower bouquets quite often. (Specifically red roses and orchids.)

-He likes to walk you home.

-Very protective of you.

-Gives you a lot of compliments.

-Very respectful when it comes to any subjects regarding sex.

-He’s very honest to you doesn’t like lying.

-Makes you breakfast in bed.

-He will definitely take you on lots of dates!

-Some locations Jean would take you out on dates are the park, the beach, cook outs, restaurants, walks, and the Art museum.

-Jean is more likely to ask you out rather then the other way around.

-He’s a very good kisser.

-He likes to kiss your neck and grab you by your waist when you’re standing away from him.

-He take lots of pictures with you.

-Likes it when you play with his hair.

Marco Bolt

-His favorite flower is sunflowers. (BUY IT FOR HIM NOW!)

-If you want to be in a relationship with Marco you’ll probably have to ask him out first since he’s very shy.

-He stares at you a lot.

- Dates with Marco would be located at the Library, Gardens, Cafes, fountains, and his house.

-He would love to have you bake cookies with you.

-He would get you a huge collection of teddy bears.

-Puts love notes in your locker.

-Marco is very helpful and always want you to be happy.

-Gives really good advice.

-He loves hugs and will always hug you or want you to hug him.

-Likes to Cloud Gaze with you.

-In relationships Marco likes to give and receive he’s more of an exchanger.

-His love languages are physical touch, and acts of service.

-Very observant and always notices when you change something about yourself.

-He runs away or puts his hands on his face when he gets embarrassed or shy.

-Marco braids your hair a lot. He’s surprisingly Really good at it too.

-Shares his headphones with you while listening to music.

-Apologies a lot.

-He laughs at every little thing and is always happy.

- Always by your side and stays with you during the good and the bad.

Armin Arlert

-Very implicative regarding his feelings for you.

-He likes to read books with you.

-Dates with Armin would be located in grass fields, the beach, the aquarium, the movie theater, and pizza places.

-Hands you pink tulips every Friday.

-Really likes cuddling with you.

-Gives a lot of forehead kisses.

-Struggles with saying no to you.

-Very gentle and soft hearted.

-Has extremely good memory.

-Great listener!

-He would gift you one on occasion.

-He hates seeing you cry and is really good at comforting.

-Collects seashells and makes you necklaces.

-Is really good at taking care of you when you are sick.

-Likes to "take it slow." romantically.

-Very understanding.

-If your biologically a woman he's very nurturing and buys you lots of gifts when your on your period.

-His love language is acts of service.

-He's very vanilla.

-It's the small things that count for Armin.

Eren Jeager

-He hides his feelings for you a lot at first.

-He'll probably ask you out eventually but will fiddle with his hands and look down the whole time.

-Likes to be alone with you.

-Takes a lot of goofy cringey pictures of you

-Dates with Eren would be located at the skate park, The mall, Arcades, Walgreens, and Concerts.

-He listens to the Neighborhood and Nirvana a lot.

-Eren also likes to share his ear phones with you.

-I know damn well Eren steals gifts for you and gets them from Walgreens.

-Wants you to do his eyeliner.

-Gifts you small but very meaningful things.

-He talks about you to his friends all the time.

-Plays video games with you.

-Fnaf is his guilty pleasure.

-He draws smiley faces on your work while your not looking.

-He rarely gets sleep and texts you a lot during the evening.

-He has a large collection of hoodies and lets you keep some of them.

-Teases you a lot since that's his sense of humor.

-Takes you trips as a titan. Holds you in his hand.

-Sneaks into your house.

-Uses snapchat to text you a lot.

Bertholdt Hoover

-Bertholdt would ask you out by reading a poem he wrote to you.

-His love language is quality time.

-Dates with Bertholdt would be located at the forest, Liberty science center(to see the stars), hiking, and anything nature related.

-During the winter he would want to build snow men with you.

-He's very kind and understanding to you.

-Bertholdt would consistently make you flower crowns during the spring.

-He gets mad when your not kind to yourself.

-His favorite flower are daises.

-He makes poems about you.

-Bertholdt would probably make a playlist about you.

-He likes to bury you into his chest. (He's tall.)

-Bertholdt gets flustered very easily.

-When he gets shy he giggles, looks up, and scratches his head a lot.

-Gifts you crystals out of the blue.

-Likes when you give him forehead kisses.

-He loves cats.

-Gives you piggy back rides to navigate.

-If your sad and need someone's shoulder to cry on he's your guy!

-While cuddling he holds you very tight to the point you cannot breathe.

-He's fascinated by the stars.

Reiner Braun

-Likes slow dancing to classical music with you.

-Extremely respectful to you.

-Provides you with public display of affection.

-Gives comforting hugs.

-He can be funny sometimes.

-Very passionate, kisses your hand before taking you on

-His love language is physical touch and giving gifts.

-Doesn't argue with you.

-Consistently compliments you.

-When he's sorry he will start bowing down in a Childs pose while going up and down and saying "I'm sorry please forgiving me."

-whines and shakes your shoulder when he doesn't get love or affection from you.

-He would go to your window and serenade you on one of your anniversaries.

-Spoils the hell out of you. He's buying you at least 5 gifts per month.

-He'd be overly exited to have you meet his family. He spins when he's happy.

-He would call you "darling or love."

-Rubs your back when your feeling unwell.

-Enjoys twirling your hair.

-Dates with him would be located at the water park, the beach, restaurants, and fields to have picnics.

-He doesn't do well at his football games unless he knows your watching.

-His favorite season is summer.

Connie Springer

-Since Connie is very aloof he would probably not even realize he likes you until Sasha brings it to his attention.

-When Connie likes you he's down bad! He's the type of guy to be a simp.

-He likes it when you laugh at his jokes.

-His love language is acts of service.

-When your sad he doesn't really know what to do and he will try to cheer you up.

-Dates with Connie would be located at the carnival, the zoo, the movie theater, and your house.

-When you post sexy photos or thirst traps he spams your comment section hyping you up.

-He likes pranking you.

-He always has a lot to contribute to conversations regarding gossiping.

-Connie would unexpectedly smack your ass and to run away just to slip and bust his ass on the floor.

-If he see's someone is bothering you he will be very quick to stand up for you.

-Doesn't like waking up in the mornings.

-Kicks a lot in his sleep.

-Connie acts like an exited little kid when he see's your outfit for dates.

-He isn't emotionally led.

-He is a sloppy but loving kisser.

-Twerks when he's extremely happy about something.

-Smiles slightly when you walk into the room.

-Side hugs you while walking.

-Connie listens to Lil Uzi Vert and Playboi Carti.

#aot imagines #aot headcanons #marco bolt #connie springer #jean kirstein #eren jaeger #reiner braun #armin arlert #attack on titan #modern au #canon universe #hajime isayama #aot fluff #;byitzjustSage

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tovalhallaandback · 5 months

Text

Just thinking about how we were ROBBED of any yule/Christmas content in TLk. Specifically in Season 5.

#the last kingdom #canon universe #tlk opinions #mostly just wanted yule in eoferwic #also really just stiorra x sigtryggr between the time jump #BUT STILL. ROBBED.#christmas music on the radio really got me feeling this #also giving me the writing bug for them again especially for oneshots set in my unpublished modern AUs

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tha-star · 3 months

Link

Wishes

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Luò Bīnghé/Shěn Yuán | Shěn Qīngqiū, Minor Mòběi-jūn/Shàng Qīnghuá - Relationship Characters: Luò Bīnghé, Shěn Yuán | Shěn Qīngqiū, Mòběi-jūn, Shàng Qīnghuá Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Legs kink, Domestic Fluff, Praise Kink, Socks, Fluff and Smut, Non-Penetrative Sex, Anal Sex, Sloppy Makeouts, Alcohol, Comedy, Romantic Comedy, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Shěn Yuán | Shěn Qīngqiū, Pansexual Luo Binghe, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Slice of Life, Wholesome, Body Worship, Sensitive Ears, Dress Up Summary:

Luo Binghe was very complex. Sometimes he dreamed big and exposed his kinks—like the one he had for Shizun's long legs—sometimes he didn't even dare to go a little further, wanting more than kisses. In this, Shen Qingqiu was either surprised by his husband's desires, or surprised by his own.

#bingqiu #fanfic #ao3 #Luò Bīnghé/Shěn Yuán | Shěn Qīngqiū #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #post-canon #established relationship #married life #wholesome #canon universe #legs kink #white socks

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kiljoius-writes · 4 months

Text

Comfortable Expectations

Ao3 Link

Rating: T

Pairing: Sasuke Uchiha/Hinata Hyūga

Summary: He may not be what she expected, but she’s everything he thinks of her.

For my friend ElReino for the SasuHina server's Secret Santa!

Word Count: 4.7k

Sasuke stares up at the ceiling with his only good arm behind his head. The cracks in it have worsened since the last time he was here, which was gods know how long ago. The stain from Naruto’s ramen being knocked out of his hands remains, which he says looks kind of like Teuchi, with fondness. He shakes his head back and forth, so the back of his head rubs against his forearm, scratching at an itch in his wrist. Then he remembers it’s a fresh cut and doesn’t want to hear it from Sakura if it opens up.

This prompts him to pull his arm out and fold his hand over his chest. Drums his fingers on his sternum as he shuts his bad eye and squints the good one, trying to see Teuchi’s face in the stain. Starts to doubt whether he actually knows what Teuchi looks like. With a puff of breath from between his lips, he decides Naruto will see the old man in anything ramen-related, even a stain on the ceiling.

“Can’t sleep either?”

His eyes relax, then blink once, but he doesn’t move his head.

“New meds have been messing with my schedule,” Tenten continues, and he hears her rustle around as if getting comfortable. “They put you on anything yet?”

Sasuke blinks again before turning his head to look at Tenten, who’s using her giant scroll as a pillow. It can’t be comfortable, but he figures it’s better than he’s got, which is nothing but the hard ground beneath him. Nothing he’s not used to at this point in life because at least the wood is softer than rock. A small shake of his head answers her. They both look up at the sound of another voice, mumbling incoherently. The only things they can pick out are a few choice insults and a question of where his underwear is.

It’s Naruto, and Sasuke already knows the dream he’s having. It’s the same one as when they were academy students which he knows in painstaking detail because he’s retold it over a dozen times, 19 by Sasuke’s last count. Tenten laughs, quietly, then looks back at him. “Wonder what he’s dreaming about.”

“Genin exams,” Sasuke mutters, turning on his side so he’s not facing Tenten anymore. “Transforms into a version of himself with no clothes on.”

This draws a louder laugh, but still quiet enough not to wake everyone else. He doesn’t feel bad about telling Tenten because he thinks it’s Naruto’s punishment for telling him so many times. His eyelids hang low as he rests his head on his open palm, and he knows sleep isn’t going to come to him. Hasn’t for a long time and he figures it’s the same for a lot of his old classmates, which is why they’re all medicated at this point.

Instead of trying to will himself to sleep, he rests his eyes on something more visually appealing than cracks and stains on a ceiling. Dark hair spread wildly on the old wood planks, attached to one Hinata Hyūga. The restful look on her features almost makes him feel like he could relax just by association. Still dressed in her kunoichi attire, arms and legs more exposed than just over a year ago, her limbs sit loosely spread every which way, and her mouth forms this delicate ‘o’ shape that isn’t sloppy in the slightest.

His eyes follow her hand as it reaches up to rub her nose aggressively, then suddenly thwaps harshly back on the ground. Behind him, he senses Tenten jump at the sudden noise, though everyone else remains dead asleep. Not a moment later, her chest rises with a deep inhale, and a loud, deep snoring suddenly fills the room, and everyone begins to stir.

“What in the world?” Sakura’s scratchy voice mumbles as she pulls herself up on her elbow, glancing around.

“Chōji –“ Ino whines as she stretches her arms above her head while lying down, an ugly yawn escaping her lips, “where the hell are your nasal strips…?”

“That’s not Chōji’s snore,” Shikamaru mumbles into his jacket he’s using as a pillow, on his stomach with his arms cradling it. “Definitely not.”

Sasuke feels the corner of his lips twitch slightly as Hinata’s head turns to face him, eyes still so peacefully shut, blissfully unaware that she��s awoken the entire house with the monstrous sounds that escape her.

“S’why I always carry a pair of these babies.” Sasuke’s eyes flit to the Inuzuka, flaunting his precious pair of earplugs.

“Well, what about Shino?” Sakura whispers, squinting at the man in question who looks stiff as a board, flat on his back.

“The bugs.” Kiba shrugs before stuffing the plugs in his ears and rolling over, unbothered.

“How the hell am I supposed to sleep with that?” Ino asks with a sigh, rubbing her forehead.

“You don’t have to sleep here,” Sasuke says without looking at her, letting his hand reach out a little toward Hinata. He hears Ino scoff without so much as a snarky retort back, instead she lets out some huffs and puffs as she gets comfortable on the ground.

The first one was the most heinous, and slowly, the sounds that escape soften to something more delicate, noises that bring him a sort of comfort.

Once the rest cease their whining, Sasuke drifts into slumber.

Since he was young, Sasuke rose with the sun. It’s how most of his family had been, the type to get an early start to the day. The only exception was his mother, who often woke late and stayed up with the moon. That was part of the reason he pushed his bedtime towards midnight, seeking time with her. Rise early, rest late; for as long as he could remember. In the academy, on missions, with Orochimaru, and now.

In the once blooming garden, now just a shell of what it once was, of dry, sandy dirt and the occasional stray weed, Sasuke sits against the wall of his old home. Before he came out, he checked the kitchen to find Shino making himself a hot drink, but otherwise, the rest remained blissfully asleep, since Hinata had quieted down. Since he returned home, it’s gotten easier to tolerate being around people, but that still only extends to the people he’s known longest, and even then, he needs breaks like this. Hearing Naruto talk in his sleep, Ino whisper-yell at Sakura in some poor attempt at being quiet, Chōji’s foot touching his knee. He shudders.

The furniture in his home had been ransacked a long time ago, he assumes. The only things left were nailed down and hooked up – the stove, the cupboards. Until today, he had been drifting through the village and surrounding areas, aimless, crashing on Kakashi’s couch, Naruto’s bed, and lately, Hinata’s floor.

It happened gradually.

In a cemetery is where it started, as most things tend to after a war. He doesn’t remember what the weather was like, just that it was fair enough for Hinata to be lying flat on her back in the damp grass. He’d wandered over for the first time since before the war, a good few months after it’d ended. Something poked at his brain, pushed him to go and see how it had grown as a result of so many bad choices. Her presence wasn’t initially clear, but there she was after a few moments of meandering about, plucking grass with one hand and her forearm slung over her eyes.

“Sasuke Uchiha,” she had called out to him, and it stopped him, strangely. Head tilted; he blinked down at her without response. A little smile pinched up the corner of her lips that he could see from under her arm. “Come to talk to the dead, too?”

Speaking to the dead was not something Sasuke wanted to make a habit of.

That day, he made an exception.

“Early to rise.”

Her voice greets him, gently breaking him of his thoughts. His eyes find hers as she stretches her arms up, one hand falling to her head to pull her fingers through her hair. He follows the line she traces, until she flicks her hair behind her shoulder, her yawn ending dramatically. Her hands clasp together as she stops in front of him, all soft smiles and sweet eyes down at him. Makes him want to smile, too.

“Too early for you.” His tone hints at teasing, as best as he can get, and he’s relieved to hear her little laugh as she turns on her heel, letting herself fall into a seated position next to him.

“Much too early,” she agrees, bringing her knees to her chest. “But worth it, maybe.”

“Worth what?” he questions, eyes falling on her knees that sway towards him. Another quiet giggle that turns into another yawn. “What’s waking early worth to you?”

Her form jostles with her laugh as her arms wrap around her knees, her face burying into her them. The smile is visible, but he still leans in a little closer to see it better. Her nose rubs on her knees as she shrugs. “Worth it to see you in your natural habitat.”

He scoffs, shakes his head. “I’m not some zoo animal, an exhibit for you to encroach on.”

“I’d never dream to.” Her head rises and leans back against the wall, taking in the scene before them. The empty Uchiha lot, just as he left it several years ago, only with slight hints of tagging by some rowdy kids that probably sound like Naruto used to. “Besides, I’m probably the zoo animal that was encroached on.”

He wheezes at this and hears her falter, another laugh, too. “If they didn’t like it, they could’ve left.”

“But it was humorous, for them.”

“It was.”

“Were you able to sleep?” Her lack of an actual response only amuses him further.

“Mhm.”

“Did I ever tell you that you’re not what I expected?”

He blinks, picks up a pebble that rests under his leg. They’d been playing this game for a bit now, where they sort of speak in circles around each other. He rolls it between his fingers, debating whether he should give her a verbal response or just let her keep going.

He settles on the latter, lifts his hand, and throws the pebble clear across the yard, far enough that it disappears into a faraway bush. From the corner of his eye, he sees her looking off in the distance where the pebble traveled. As he predicted, she continues, “Little Sasuke never seemed like the type for sleepovers.”

With an amused puff of air, he shrugs. “Miserable little shit wasn’t.”

“Ouch.” She feigns injury, hissing slightly, though her cheeks twinge pink with her rosy smile. “Poor boy.”

“You changed, too, haven’t you?”

It’s a more direct question than they usually ask and he sees her falter, just a bit. Her arms unwrap from her legs, the soles of her feet scrape on the ground beneath them, and her legs splay out in front of her as she looks up. “I have.”

“Little Hinata wouldn’t throw a kunai so freely at a perceived enemy.”

Curiosity forces his eyes up to see how she reacts to his blunt statement, but it’s nothing he doesn’t expect from her, now. He may not be what she expected, but she’s everything he thinks of her. “She was gentle.”

He hmph’s, adjusts his legs to sit more comfortably. “Somehow, she still is.”

His hand goes limp next to him, open and prone. He senses her weight adjust next to him, coming closer. “How is your wrist?”

“No worse.” Instinctively he pulls his hand back up, hiding the wound. When she reaches her hand out toward it, he makes a face at her. She laughs quietly, wiggling the tips of her fingers as if to entice him into letting her take his hand. And it works, because things always work for Hinata when it comes to Sasuke.

“It looks like you might have agitated it a bit,” she comments, gently brushing the pad of her finger over the red stitches. He narrows his eyes at her, not willing to let himself flinch under her hold.

“How exactly would you know?” he asks, raised eyebrow. She twists her lips to the side, and her lack of response tells him everything. “Sakura had you check on me.”

“What?” Hinata looks up, fingers curling in. “No, no…” Fibbing is well outside of her nature, betrays her instantly. He moves his hand from her, but she grips a little tighter, saying, “Well, yes. She worries about you.”

“Figures.” He scoffs but stops trying to remove his arm from her hold. “I don’t expect you to care.”

“Quit that.” She presses a fingernail into the cushion of his palm, and he twitches, but the amusement on his face is clear. Her grip loosens when he tugs his hand up a bit so that her palm lines up with his, and their fingertips come into contact. He sees the deepening pink on her cheeks and pushes a little further, to thread his fingers with hers. She clears her throat, tells him, “You’re not very funny.”

“Ouch.” He mimics her earlier actions by hissing and dipping his head back and it elicits that soft giggle, the only one that he finds endearing.

The slamming of the sliding door disrupts their moment, Naruto making his presence dramatic and flaring as he usually does, and she tries to tug away her hand from his.

Sasuke holds on, and Hinata lets him.

After the cemetery, it was gradual. Turned into passing each other late at night, when most of the village slept. Again, it was simple and unintentional. Every night, he’d make his way back to Naruto’s dingy little apartment that he insisted on continuing to stay in (despite being offered something more lavish) and pass her on the same street. His natural reaction was to ignore her as he did most things, and she seemed to be on the same page, eyes forward, intention in her steps as she passed.

It’s when she didn’t pass through that he took interest. One of those days, in the cemetery, he asked her.

“Avoiding me?”

It’s the laugh that got him. It’s a confused sound that precedes a sigh, where he would see her on her collapsed legs, looking down and shaking her head, casting a shimmering blueish-black curtain around her form. Silence sat, as it often had since they’d begun seeing each other here. He observed her as she sat on the damp ground, letting the material that touched the ground stain. Something about it seemed too close to home. When she didn’t respond, he pointed out the soil soaking into her stockings, as if struggling to stir up some sort of conversation, for whatever reason.

“We congratulate this year’s newest chūnin.”

Sasuke tries his best to look indifferent as Kakashi specifically eyes Sasuke and Naruto.

Twenty years old and barely a chūnin isn’t something to be proud of, but Naruto still loops his arm around his neck and cheers, endlessly grateful for everything. Sometimes, he thinks he should be more like Naruto, too.

“Next, jōnin! And then, Hokage!”

While he’s presented to the rest of the village, many of them giving him some form of stink eye, he sees Sakura whispering to Hinata. They both look at him and he returns with his own stink eye, glaring and frowning and giving them all the ugly faces he can conjure. He frowns deeper when they giggle into each other’s faces.

They’re up to no good and he knows it.

At the time, for some strange reason, it had frustrated him when he couldn’t squeeze even a polite greeting from her. Sasuke wasn’t a nice person, which was established a long time ago, and to have Hinata of all people brush him off was strange, to say the least. Stubbornly, he’d stopped going to the cemetery. He also stopped walking down that alley, but it didn’t stop him from perching himself on top of a rooftop near it, like a cat keeping an eye out for its prey. It only happened once, because the very first time he did it, he watched her take her regular route, then suddenly stop. A little alarm rang in his brain, causing him to stiffen and attempt to lower his chakra levels, as if said prey was about to escape.

And escape she did. Within mere seconds, she was making an unexpected turn, and briskly walking to a different area of the village.

“Why did you start visiting? The cemetery?”

How she had been so quiet, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps his defenses were naively lowered, as they slowly had become the longer he meandered about this village he never thought he’d come back to, much less settle back down in. Regardless, her voice forced a pause in his movements, and he whirled around to find her sitting at the solitary fountain that sat between a cluster of apartment buildings and the old Uchiha district. A fountain that hadn’t had water flowing from it since before he graduated from the academy. She sat with a leg pulled up, her foot cradled in her hands, and her gaze locked on him. Tilted head, genuine curiosity.

It had made him think about why he’d started going to the cemetery. He couldn’t explain why, even if he thought it worth explaining in the first place. Something about respect for the dead would be the easy answer, but nothing was ever easy with him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that maybe Hinata knew that.

Before a celebration can be had, he sits at the fountain. His feet are inside where the water would be. He sort of just assumes it's Hinata now when he senses someone behind her, but still looks over his shoulder to check. He likes to look at her, the way she walks, and the softness of her movements. Her legs move at a pace that isn’t intimidating, steps quiet.

It feels natural now, the way she sidles up next to him. Her back is to him, and they don’t touch. He thinks she might be waiting for him to press his own back to hers.

“You’re nervous?”

He snickers, unintentionally.

“Terrified,” he drawls, sliding one of his feet back and forth in the fountain. “Fighting literal Gods is nothing when it comes to a party hosted by Lee.”

A sputtered laugh and she turned to look at him, while he was already looking at her. She reaches up to brush her fingers against a spot on his jaw, and he’s not even surprised anymore that he doesn’t recoil. The instinct to with Hinata had fizzled out fairly quickly. The gentleness of the touch doesn’t last though, and suddenly she’s pinching at the spot and then he moves back. She laughs again, uses her other hand to keep him still. “You’ve got something.”

Something? he thinks, suddenly feeling a wave of strange embarrassment hit him. He bats at her hands now with his own but she’s already pulling them away, humming contentedly. He squints at her as she tucks the offending hands under her thighs, notes the amused look on her face. Shaking his head, he gets up, feels the attraction roll over him as he shifts his eyes to the side, and steps away. He doesn’t wait for her to question him and just starts down a familiar path, to the Hyūga compound.

One of those nights she had spoken words that put his brain on delay.

“I want to walk you home.”

A blank stare took over his features, he knew because she tilted her head at him, leaned in a little bit, and waved a hand to get his attention. He almost reached out to grab the offending hand.

Recovering quickly, because freezing isn’t something Sasuke does, he let out this dismissive noise with an equally dismissive wave of his hand, an all too casual remark about how if anyone should be escorted, it should be her. That if she required company, she could simply ask, that this was a strange way to go about it. Not mentioning anything about the way his heart beat a little faster, or his hands making twitchy movements, of course, because none of that mattered.

None of it had to do with the fact that he, at that moment, did not have a home.

She hummed softly, a pleasant sound, then nudged her head to the side, and his feet followed. It was strange for him to act so obediently but he found it oddly comforting to let someone else lead him around for once. They wound through the village from the fountain, eventually ending up on a dirt path that looked worn. His mind was caught up in the patterns of the foot marks, a habit ingrained in him from past training. Soon, they’d stop and that’s when he pulled his gaze up, surprised to find those dull halls of the Hyūga.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight, just a strange one. One he hadn’t seen in a while. Without missing a beat, his eyes found hers, and she gave him a careful look like she wasn’t quite sure if she was making the right choice. So, he just made this strange guttural sound that she thankfully just smiled at.

He followed her back to her room.

Sasuke sits stubbornly in his spot against a wall in Hinata’s room, fidgeting with an origami something or other she had weaved together. It’s a bunch of triangular pieces laced together that he can twist inward and outward, even with his lone hand, and it’s how he’s decided to preoccupy his time while Hinata double-checks everything in her pouches. Briefly, he pauses with the paper toy to watch her, eyes following all of her movements naturally – check her pockets: her hip, her thigh, her chest, and of course, her boot, in that order.

“Sasuke?”

His eyebrows raise but he doesn’t respond to her call. Instead, his eyes drop back to the paper toy and he resumes twisting it, like a kid. She repeats his name as her feet carry her to him, toes lining up with his as she settles on her ankles in front of him. She asks him if he wants to keep the paper he fidgets with and he can’t keep back a small chuckle at being treated like a child. It’s not like the way other people have treated him like a child, making demands of him. And he thinks maybe this isn’t her treating him like a child anyway, just simple kindness seeping through herself into him.

“Can I take it to this stupid party?”

“As long as you promise not to call it stupid.”

Leaving Hinata’s room to interact with others isn’t something that sounds particularly fun, but her hand on his knee puts him at ease, despite himself.

Their arrival is met with mixed reactions.

She plays her part so well, he’s not sure how she manages. Drifts between people, all smiles and polite greetings. No hint of cold, only warmth. Not a burning warmth, just one that feels right. Comforting, a place one might find themselves in naturally. On the other end, he’s met with polite head nods at best, stink eye in the middle, and downright disgust at worst.

He doesn’t actually blame anyone for being appalled by him. At this point, he significantly judges anyone who doesn’t side-eye him. Including Hinata herself.

Every day, he wonders about her.

But when they arrive and their friends separate them, their eyes still line up, across and in between. Their little smiles aren’t easily hidden.

Makes him think he belongs in her gaze.

When he wanted to spend time with her, in her place, he went to the fountain.

Gradually, Sasuke became the stray cat that Hinata would periodically come out to feed and eventually bring home. Every time, he was met with strange, pointed looks from the same pale eyes throughout the compound. He let them all sort of slide off of him, a look of indifference he’d been cultivating since he was too young to know what the word indifferent meant.

Every time, he ended up where he wanted to.

With Hinata.

It was almost laughable how strange that would seem to anyone else. Sasuke Uchiha, spends his downtime within the Hyūga compound, specifically with their disgraced heiress. And yet, it’s the only place he wants to be.

At random times, middle of the week, and no particular day in mind. He claims a spot and she doesn’t seem to mind. Life is contemplated there, and she still finds ways to strike up conversations with him. About the old lady down the street from the compound that leaves food out for stray cats, and how she keeps extra kibble to refill the bowls in case she forgets. That Ino’s been employing Udon in her flower shop for the upcoming holidays and she’s finding herself having a stronger affinity for kids. When she showed him a photo she took of an interesting cloud, one she deemed worthy of being printed.

Nothing particularly prying, that feels like he needs to ignore or find a way to escape. Simple things that make him feel like a normal person who might actually stand a chance at belonging.

Things like

“Did you know Ms. Ume is finally carrying matcha in her shop?”

and

“Talking with Dr. Okano was productive today.”

and

“There’s cute little frogs at the pond about now you might like.”

Things that are easy, because while Sasuke is difficult, Hinata makes things impossibly easy.

“Don’t you think it’d be nice to have the fountain run again?” she asks one day when he returns from a mission that only took three days, and yet, she had awaited him at the fountain, anyway. He likes to think that maybe she went about her regular schedule and checked with her dōjutsu every once in a while, until she could detect him approaching.

One of several reasons he begins to really like coming here. It’s a running list in his head of justification for him to come here specifically so often.

“It’s not the only fountain in the village.” He puts his hand in his pocket, stops a few meters from her, and kicks the soft dirt under his shoe. She gets up and turns her back to him, outstretching her arms to the structure as if showcasing it.

“I just think it’d be nice to have our fountain flowing, too.”

When she turns her head to look back at him, it feels like she’s sizing up his reaction, because he most certainly catches on to the implication of something being theirs. It’s only for a second that she scans him before looking away, and he wonders how obvious the surprise is on his face – or if he just looks dumb.

“Well, anyway.” Her arms drop to her sides as she turns back toward him, then starts approaching. He fixes his expression to one of nonchalance as his eyes follow her. “You can tell me about your mission while I put on tea.”

Without asking, she brushes past him, and without a second thought, he finds himself falling into step next to her on the paths they’ve worn through over the last year of doing this. It’s not something he tries to question anymore, thinks he’s happier just letting the universe push him around for a while if it means a certain sort of peace found in the company of someone so unlikely. Even thinks it’s nice when she strokes her knuckles against his, like asking for permission, that he so readily gives with his palm turning to meet her fingertips. It lets him feel a certain sort of callowness that he hasn’t let himself feel in a long time.

Sasuke thinks it would be nice to stay here.

After he leaves Hinata’s place, he seeks out Naruto so he can help him figure out how to restore a whole fountain.

#sasuhina #sasuke uchiha #hinata hyuga #naruto #sasuhina fanfic #naruto fanfic #canon universe #fluff #one shot

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thewayshedreamed · 1 year

Text

Playing With Fire

a/n: This one-shot was written to fulfill a prompt, one that I saved until the right inspiration hit 😏 Thanks to the anon who sent this in many moons ago! I saw you, and I’m finally prepared to deliver.

Nesta meets Cassian when she was human, still engaged to Thomas, before Feyre. They start a thing and then meet each other when Feyre visits her. (smut please) combined with this prompt I received for kinktober from @moodymelanist 💕 Maybe some handcuffing/tied up action. Up to you who gets tied up and who’s in charge 👀

So, here it is— set in canon, shameless Nessian smut where Nesta is still human and neither of them have any good sense or control as it pertains to the other. Verbal sparring included.

Warning(s): strong language, smut, mentions of infidelity——————————————————————————

Food in the human realm was always so bland. The company, however, never was.

Tense silence wasn’t uncommon for these dinners. The words they lacked at times always came back around in bursts of ire or mirth, but which one was always uncertain. Sometimes, it was both.

One thing he was always sure to do was keep an eye trained on Nesta Archeron. She was as elegant as ever, tempting in the most depraved ways, and even more so because he couldn’t have her. Not legitimately, anyway.

Before these routine visits to the Archeron estate, Cassian hadn’t been a stranger to their part of the world. As irony would have it, his path had crossed with Nesta Archeron’s several times before Feyre had entered their lives in the Night Court, and he had no way of knowing at the time that their initial encounter would prove to make things complicated.

Mostly because he hadn’t been able to stay away ever since.

Cassian had been in the human realm gathering intel on the Night Court’s behalf, collecting what little scraps of info he could regarding the tensions among the Courts and with Hybern. Azriel and his team were up to their ears in leads, and Cassian had agreed to assess the few in that particular corner of the world in order to help his brother the best he could. He’d landed to rest his wings after flying for so many hours, he’d lost count. A small creek ran within the trees, and he had just knelt along its edge to splash water over his face when a twig snapped nearby.

With a predator’s focus, he whirled around. It was the first time he’d locked eyes with Nesta, and looking back, it was the first time she’d struck him a little stupid. Like an amateur, he’d blinked at her for seconds until she’d broken the silence, demanding to know who he was and what business he had in their woods.

At the time, he’d been impressed with her nerve. For a human to lift her chin in quiet defiance and dare to demand answers from him was a far cry from his usual encounters, and he’d been in awe of her ever since.

Their initial conversation was a bit of a blur, but after offering to help her carry the firewood she hauled in her slender arms, Nesta’s walls had crumbled infinitesimally. It had surprised him when she recommended he adjust his camp site by a few dozen paces to place him within the borders of her family’s private property. The only thing she asked in return was his silence, and Cassian hadn’t been keen to bring attention to himself in the first place.

For the few days he’d camped there, he’d offered a lending hand in any heavy lifting required to earn his keep. Most of the time it involved copious amounts of firewood, and since he was no stranger to preparing for the frigid winters of Illyria, assisting Nesta with the task was almost negligible.

Cassian had told her he meant to earn the safety of his campsite, but in truth, he wasn’t interested in any unnecessary distance between himself and this elegant and brutal puzzle who barely humored him in casual conversation. It wasn’t for his lack of trying.

The first time he had seen that intoxicating and addicting spark flash within her blue eyes, he’d been a goner. Somehow, he’d goaded her into a loaded debate around the prejudices between humans and the Fae, among the lower and High Fae. That moment, sitting near the small campfire they’d stacked together at his tent, Nesta’s face had flashed with equal parts ire and need after a particularly blunt point Cassian had made.

Her lips were against his before he had a moment to process, and as someone who was rarely caught off-guard, he had faked his composure well enough. Despite never having been with a human woman, his blood roared in a way that had him staggering forward to press his body to hers.

They’d made it into his modest tent before their clothes had been shed with little finesse. Everything about the physical was different with her, and it took an extraordinary amount of self-control to remember to master his intensity enough to keep her safe.

A sharp cough and kick to his ankle brought him back to the present. Azriel eyed him curiously from the chair next to Cassian, his keen expression asking a hundred questions without the man uttering a word. His shadows danced over his shoulders, a bit more chaotic than usual, and Cassian wondered if they were the reason for Az’s check-in. Nosy little bastards.

“I’m good,” he murmured, shoving his food around with his fork.

He wasn’t good, not fine at all. Sitting near Nesta and treating her like a mere acquaintance was chipping away at his sanity in a way that had his heart pounding against the inside of his chest, and Azriel didn’t seem ignorant enough for his liking.

“You don’t look well,” Feyre remarked, her blue eyes round with concern. Cassian hated all the lies he committed by omission, especially when Feyre was so open and kind with him, but what was he supposed to say?

I met your sister months ago and slept with her. I wish that was the only time, but I came back more than once before I even knew you. Never mind the times I’ve traveled alongside you and Rhys. I’ve ended up in her chambers every time, her fiancé be damned.

To his credit, he hadn’t known Nesta was engaged the first time he’d bedded her. She’d moved with such purpose and claimed him so thoroughly that it should have been more obvious that she’d been seeking some level of control, but he couldn’t think on that too long without entertaining what happened to make her crave it.

“I’m tired, Fey,” he lied, his lips stretching into a confident smile. “It’s been a long day with travel.”

Rhys swirled the wine in his glass and shot an amused glance in Cassian’s direction. “I winnowed you most of the way.”

Cassian’s head snapped back in a laugh, and the rest joined him. He didn’t begrudge Rhys for his teasing, and he forgot it altogether when he dropped his chin to find Nesta’s eyes fixed over his throat.

“Maybe,” he drawled, dragging his eyes away from Nesta to address Rhys, “but you’re taxing enough in your own right.”

They shared a laugh and quieted down to continue their meal. Cassian took a long pull of his wine and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the sound of Nesta’s cool voice.

“I assume the food isn’t to your tastes. Again.”

Always with this, he thought. He couldn’t help the fact that he was Fae and experienced food differently, no more than Nesta could help that she was human.

A fact he was reminded of every time he thought of her in any capacity.

“Ah, Sweetheart,” he said lazily, propping his elbow on the back of the empty chair to his other side. “The food is fine. You know my tastes are especially particular.”

Her cheeks flushed, but he held her eyes as long as she’d let him. She would likely have his balls for being so outrightly suggestive, but he was half a beat from handing them over most of the time anyway.

With a dismissive clearing of her throat, Nesta’s attention turned to her own goblet of wine. A satisfied smirk tugged at Cassian’s mouth for the rest of the meal.

Everyone was tired by the end of dessert, and Cassian was close to boiling from the inside out with the way his blood thrummed through his veins. Each of them made their ways to their respective rooms with minimal fuss.

Blessedly, Azriel offered to do first patrol of the grounds— something Cassian was happy to accept. Az was restless at night and never settled down at the same time, so anticipating his moves was difficult. If he did first patrol, at least Cassian was aware of when he’d returned to their room. The chances of him leaving after that were slim.

If Cassian was tasked with patrol first, things were more complicated. He had to be hyper aware of the time being that Az would go looking for him if he was gone too long. The problem was anticipating how long his brother was content to wait before going after him. The last thing he needed was Azriel’s shadows swooping into his business and scandalizing their master for the rest of time with what they found.

So yes, the offer from his brother was a blessing straight from the Cauldron.

Waiting for him to return was another matter in and of itself, never mind the need to seem unaffected by the delay in the face of someone who conducted spy work for their court. Azriel didn’t turn a knowing gaze toward him when they switched off, and that was an improvement from dinner only hours before. If Az noticed anything amiss with Cassian, he had the decency to keep it to himself.

Cassian flew his laps over the Archeron estate, his eyes scanning the grounds as well as a few yards beyond the perimeter in case anything lurked within the forest. Nothing seemed obviously out of the ordinary, but he made an additional lap to be sure.

On his final pass, his eyes lingered on the flicker of candlelight spilling from an all too familiar window. The balcony doors were slightly ajar, the long curtains tucked tightly against each other. They billowed in the wind, and Cassian adjusted his wings to angle in their direction as if summoned by some silent beacon.

His boots were quiet on the cobblestones. He thanked the Cauldron for small mercies since it offered him several moments to catch his breath and steady his nerves. Shaking his head, he suppressed a laugh at his own expense for being torn up over a human woman that he saw infrequently at best. He squared his shoulders and gripped one of the curtains between his calloused fingers, easing it open and tucking his wings tight to avoid snagging the delicate fabric.

He felt her presence before his eyes landed on her form, sitting at the vanity nearby. As usual, she kept her attention fixed resolutely on her task and avoided eye contact altogether. Cassian would have been offended if not for his preternatural hearing picking up the way her breath hitched and her heart sped up at realizing his presence. He refused to preen considering those same physiological responses accompanied a myriad of emotions, though.

Cassian dragged his eyes away and channeled his focus on shutting the balcony doors quietly. When they were properly secured, he pulled the curtains tight and turned toward Nesta with a lump in his throat.

Her shoulders rolled with the effort of removing her shawl. She hadn’t worn it at dinner, but with the stubborn chill within her chambers, Cassian assumed she’d grabbed it in defense of the cold.

Nesta had been waiting for him, he realized. It didn’t come as a total surprise, but his brain was usually inclined to assume she found their dalliances more convenient than something worth delaying a warm bath on a cold night.

She cleared her throat, the sound prim somehow. “I assume all is well around the estate.”

“All clear,” he responded, humoring her need for small talk. Both knew he wasn’t there for the scintillating conversation or an update on the grounds, but he would allow her the pretense.

Nesta turned around, her shoulders back and her chin high— a queen in every sense of the word. Some dark part of Cassian loved that he knew what it meant to dishevel her, to watch her lose that carefully crafted presentation she gave to everyone else. The thought made his blood heat and his tongue a bit bolder.

“Would you rather I stand here, or will you invite me to sit?” He gestured lazily toward the bench at the foot of her bed. “I don’t know the rules for how we’re playing things tonight.”

Nesta scoffed, but he swore her eyes twitched slightly at the corners in amusement. “Sit, if you’d like,” she said, but no trace of the hostess was present in her tone. “Don’t drag any mud across the rug.”

Cassian walked casually over to the bench and lowered his considerable weight while listening for any creaks that hinted to issues of integrity. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He offered his widest smile and bent forward to loosen the laces of his leather boots. Setting them neatly to the side, he stretched his wings and rested an elbow atop his thigh. Nesta’s eyes darted to his forearm, trailing to where his hand hanged casually between his legs, and he couldn’t resist shooting a wink her way.

“We meet again.”

Nesta’s tone was unimpressed. “It would appear so.”

Each of their ill-planned meet-ups flashed through Cassian’s mind like some kind of highlight reel of hedonistic decisions. Her nails against his back. How the estate’s old storage shed creaked with their weight pressed against the aging wall. The little gasp of air she took when he raked his teeth over her throat. How his callused palm rasped over the delicate wallpaper of the nearby inn as he pushed into her from behind. The indulgent groan she allowed herself when he entered her.

Cassian barely suppressed an actual shake of his head to clear the thoughts away. “A warm welcome as always,” he drawled.

Patience a thing of the past, Nesta walked toward him, yet stopped several feet away. She clasped her fingers together and lowered them over her skirts, a portrait of the inconvenienced.

“Do you expect me to believe you’re here for company and tea?” she bit.

“I think we both know why I’m here, Sweetheart.”

Nesta cheeks reddened in irritation, but Cassian had always loved the way the blush crept over her face. He straightened as she closed the distance, bringing them almost eye to eye. Too bad they’d never see the world that way— not if their usual interactions were any indication.

“You’re presumptuous—“

“I’ve been right so far,” he interrupted with a smirk, and he wondered how much restraint it took for Nesta to allow his head to stay on his shoulders.

“— and insufferable. I don’t know why I continue to entertain this song and dance, nor why I engage in this ridiculous tit for tat.”

Cassian chuckled, running his tongue over the front of his teeth. Nesta chewed the inside of her lip, a quirk Cassian doubted she knew of herself if she did it in front of him. The display appealed to the General in him, who sized up an opponent and knew exactly when to make a calculated move. He rose slowly to his feet and watched Nesta’s throat bob at his closeness.

Enough with the faulty armor and the bullshit, loaded silences. Nesta wasn’t as clever at hiding herself from Cassian as she aimed to be, and she hardly gave him enough credit for his own skills in observation. It made him wonder how dense her future husband had proven to be if she assumed so little of other people.

“Admit it. You bite back because it’s the only time you feel anything anymore,” he taunted, pressing a hand to the small of her back. “And you hate it.”

His free hand traced the delicate line of her collar bone. The moment her restraint snapped was always a beautiful one, and it was the sole reason Cassian hadn’t yet allowed himself to slant his mouth over hers. It would have been a shame to miss it.

Nesta was quiet for a while, her breaths faster than before. With one more drag of his knuckles over the base of her neck, Nesta launched into action, fumbling with the ties of her gown. Her words were swift, cutting.

“You don’t get to fly in at your leisure and act like you know me.” Cassian offered a cocky grin, his eyes sliding down to watch the sheer efficiency of her work. It was enough to keep her talking, and if she was talking, a shot remained for them yet. “And don’t think because we’ve traded a couple of orgasms that you’re entitled to an opinion.”

Cassian laughed humorlessly. “I’m sure your husband would love to hear this means nothing. That you managed to find some pleasure for yourself while you pretend you don’t think on it otherwise. ”

Not his proudest moment, but the man’s existence was enough to sour Cassian’s mood. He couldn’t resist the jab.

“He’s not my husband.”

For all he’d said, it was a compelling denial— only that it was missing a few critical considerations. His wings twitched in torture or delight, and damn him if he was supposed to figure it out. He stepped forward, turning to crowd her against the nearby wall. Nesta tilted her chin to look at him, and he savored the way the forced indifference played across her features.

“Mm,” he muttered, lifting his hand to run his knuckles delicately over her jaw. “We can talk about the rest later.”

Nesta’s breaths shuddered out of her, each one a blessing against the skin of Cassian’s throat. Trailing his finger beneath her chin, he eased it up toward his own and slide his lips over hers. It was only enough to have her lean into him, a fact that seemed like a self-induced ache atop their existing dynamic.

Those blue eyes, so expressive beneath her pinched brow, scanned Cassian’s face for something he couldn’t quite label. That fevered need for control rolled off of her in waves, and since life seemed to offer Nesta Archeron very little of it, Cassian decided he would gladly toss the reins to her. Anything— truly, anything— to keep her curves pressed against him.

“How will you have me tonight, Nesta?” he murmured, letting her name roll slowly from his tongue.

Sure, slender hands reached for his waist. His breath caught, but he hoped to recover quickly enough that Nesta wouldn’t notice the way her touch affected him. Perhaps it was too late for such hopes, but Cassian hadn’t made peace with showing a woman like Nesta his hand. It was no offense meant for her; rather, he knew with such little ammunition, it would take nothing for her to bring him to his knees.

He would kneel for much less, after all.

Her cheek was warm beneath his large hand, her lips plush— yet, unyielding somehow. Cassian angled his head to deepen the kiss, but Nesta batted his hand away from her face and leaned away before he realized what she aimed to do. How many times would she gain the upper hand with him— someone who had lived years beyond her own age and had navigated much more strategically-complex situations?

“Hands to yourself,” she snapped, but the breathiness in her tone gave her away. If she’d aimed for unaffected, she had failed spectacularly. A weird sense of pride warmed Cassian at the thought.

For dramatic pause, Cassian made a show of situating the gauntlets at each of his wrists as he backed away. The siphons caught the low candlelight and reflected a crimson hue, warming the room and giving a false sense of intimacy that felt too real for what it was.

Removing his flying leathers, he threw them over a nearby armchair rather than dropping the heavy garments to the rug. Nesta looked down her nose at the offending pieces, but her gaze slid to Cassian quickly, surveying him up and down like she was seeing him in a tunic and pants for the first time.

“Sweetheart?” he goaded, allowing his mouth to tick upward in the smirk she cursed so often.

“On the bed, propped against the pillows,” she managed, her gown dropping to the floor and leaving her in only a shift.

Cassian’s mouth watered at the sight. Most often, Nesta would only go as far as to let him take her in the thin garment, but it did very little in leaving things to the imagination.

To save her the trouble, Cassian loosened the neckline of his tunic and reached behind him to unfasten the buttons below his wings. They twitched against his wishes, displaying his anticipation to anyone within a reasonable distance. Nesta being the only one was no comfort. She was the last person who needed evidence of the nagging ache he felt when it came to her.

Her eyes scanned every inch of his exposed torso, and the heat of her attention was a nearly tangible thing in the room. Cassian forced an eyebrow up in challenge, a show of his indifference, although he wondered if the lie was worth it anymore.

Padding over to her bed, he lowered his body against the plush linens and arranged the pillows to accommodate his wings comfortably. As comfortable as they could be, anyway.

Despite their many nights together, Cassian hadn’t managed to offer access to such an intimate part of himself. To anyone who wasn’t Illyrian, it would have seemed counterintuitive that he would readily offer his cock to someone before allowing any touch to his wings, but he’d been lucky that Nesta never tried.

Cassian rested one arm against the bedspread, laying the other casually against his stomach. He dragged it slowly toward the leather stays of his pants, but Nesta’s commanding voice stopped him.

“I’ll do it.”

Her words were like lightning to his spine. His cock hardened under her attention, only made worse by her measured approach. He offered his free hand toward her, more in affection than an offer of assistance, but the glare she threw in his direction reminded him of their stipulations.

Hands to himself, then.

With a knowing smile, he tucked the rejected hand behind his head and splayed the other wider across the skin of his stomach. He would follow Nesta’s rules, sure, but he never agreed to stop goading her. As long as that fire flashed across her blue eyes, he wouldn’t be able to resist stoking it.

Nesta chewed her lip once more, and Cassian barely stifled a moan. She hadn’t touched him, yet he was unraveling at a record pace. At least, he thought he was, but he’d been ignorant to how his restraint would be tested when she threw a leg over his hips and straddled him. Her hands grazed his chest, and he allowed his eyes to roll closed.

Nesta dragged her nails lightly over his chest and down the muscles of his stomach. His back bowed in pleasure, his hands launching toward her waist before his brain caught up. He stopped them just in time, hovering inches from her soft curves and his fingers twitching to haul her against him.

“Nesta,” he begged, his voice a whisper.

She eyed him curiously, and pushed back so that she was straddling his shins. With the same mastery she had used on the stays of her gown, she loosened Cassian pants and hooked her fingers into the waistband. Cassian lifted his hips as best he could to help, groaning when she left them bunched just below his knees.

Nesta ran a slender finger from the head of his cock, teasing the entirety of his length in a way that had him twitching beneath her ministrations. A satisfied smile stretched across her beautiful face, and as if she was capable of the smallest mercies, she crawled over him and sealed her mouth against his.

The soft fabric of her shift glided over his chest, a solid contrast to the almost primal way she took his mouth. Cassian met her in a battle for what little dominance remained, dragging her full bottom lip between his teeth and kissing her senseless again.

His knuckles fisted the bed linens, and Mother’s tits, he regretted the earlier version of himself who threw any and all control to the wind. Something about Nesta went straight to his bloodstream, and the effect didn’t seem concerned with showing Cassian any kindness.

Nesta pulled away roughly and inched down Cassian’s body to line him up with her entrance. He opened his mouth to offer a touch, a taste— whatever got her ready for him and had her pretty little moans dancing in the air around them. She shook her head as if understanding his intent. The head of his cock pressed against her, and Nesta leaned forward to slide her lips over his.

“Still think we should talk?” she whispered, teasing his mouth with a soft flick of her tongue.

Cassian’s eyes rolled behind his eyelids, both in irritation and brain-melting pleasure. A beat passed before he clued in to her intentions. She had artfully dodged any response during Cassian’s own attempt at gaining the upper hand; so artfully, in fact, that he had wondered if his words had registered with her at all.

Damn him for underestimating the catalogue created by Nesta’s razor sharp wit. Of course she’d heard him and understood his meaning. Withholding any response had been every bit strategic. She wasn’t the type to allow life to drone on by accident.

A hiss tore from his mouth at the divine tension around his cock. With no shortage of intention, he forced his eyes open to take her in, and he thanked the Cauldron for his timing when Nesta straightened completely to lower herself over him. Tendrils of loose hair danced around her sharp cheekbones, both dusted with a vicious shade of pink that seemed exclusive to Nesta. Everything about the woman was a new experience, unique in every sense of the word.

Back arched, Nesta allowed her head to roll back over her shoulders while she chased her pleasure. Every muscle in Cassian’s legs and core were engaged in a feeble attempt to preserve the last shreds of his dignity. No one had ever rattled him to such a degree, but he didn’t fight it. He was happy for it, even. What that said about him, he didn’t know.

Nesta relaxed her thighs, moaning at her fullness once their hips were flush. Cassian’s hands drifted to her thighs, his thumbs ghosting a mindless path over her pebbled skin. He realized his mistake right before her head snapped forward, fire swirling in her eyes.

“Cassian,” she warned, her tone too breathy to be truly threatening.

Cassian released her with savage efficiency and laid his clenched fists by his side. Nesta resumed her rhythm, riding him expertly and ramping up the pace once she found the angle that served her best.

His hands opened and closed with the effort of keeping them in their assigned places. The silk shift clung to Nesta’s body in all the right ways, and a soft sheen of sweat erupted over her skin. Cassian hadn’t know temptation like her in his life.

Nesta’s hips faltered slightly, and instinctually, Cassian reached for her waist to steady her. His attention stayed on her face, lost in mindless pleasure and with abandon he knew in his soul she never allowed herself. Cassian flexed his hips slightly to shove his hands underneath him; otherwise, he feared proving Nesta’s assumptions that he was an uncivilized brute. Usually, he had no problem playing the part for the sake of their banter, but nothing was worth risking how safe Nesta felt with him. Nothing.

The movement had Nesta moaning into the quiet room, loud enough that Cassian barely suppressed the urge to shush her. She wasn’t a woman who seemed overly keen on being silenced in her own home, no matter how problematic her circumstances. Instead, Cassian bit the inside of his cheek almost to the point of pain to keep himself level. Nesta, on the other hand, seemed overcome with her need for release. Her head snapped forward, her eyes locking on Cassian’s and a hand planted on his lower abdomen for leverage.

“I’m—” she whimpered, but she never finished her thought. Before she had a chance, her jaw went slack with pleasure and her free hand slid over the front of her shift to tease a nipple through the soft fabric. The sight alone threatened to unravel him, but he was a little in awe of how quickly she’d come in comparison to their usual times together.

“Gods, Nesta,” Cassian breathed. Her core pulsed around him, and his eyes rolled behind his lids. He’d originally had more to offer in way of a comment, but the tension around his cock was enough to melt all coherent thought away.

Nesta stayed atop him through the aftershocks, until her hips were still and flush against Cassian’s again. He kept his eyes closed for a moment before looking up at her beneath lazy lids, his mouth drying at how stunning she was with the flush of release stippling her fair skin.

Her bottom lip was imprisoned between her teeth, a ghost of a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. To Cassian’s surprise, Nesta slide her hands over the tight muscles of his stomach and up to his chest. She ran her thumb over each of his nipples, earning a shaking moan in return before ghosting her lips over his.

Cassian put the full might of his discipline into keeping his hips still despite the way his cock throbbed, still painfully hard inside her. Nesta was especially sensitive after she came, and on an even simpler note, she didn’t owe him an orgasm in return. Regardless, he had some awkward arrangements to make and some things to take care of before he tried slipping into bed only feet away from Azriel. He would never let him live it down.

Before he could bemoan the fact, Nesta rocked gently over him. Her curves were pressed flush against the hard lines of his body, and even though he could feel the full warmth of her beneath the silk she wore, it was hardly enough. What he would give— an embarrassing number of things, really— to feel her smooth skin gliding over his own.

Nesta moaned into the quiet, tracing Cassian’s lips teasingly with her tongue. He chased her mouth when she moved to sit-up but settled quickly into the pillow when he remembered the sight she was to behold, thoroughly debauched and relaxed in a way he guessed almost no one saw. The possibility that he was the only one sent a shiver down his spine.

Without any warning, Nesta started rocking her hips in long, languid strokes. Cassian bit his bottom lip viciously to keep from crying out, his head rolling back into the plush pillow and exposing his throat without a second thought.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

His focus narrowed to every sensation, no matter how faint. Anywhere Nesta touched him came alive with something akin to wildfire, and sweat erupted over every inch of his skin. He swallowed, forcing down the lump in his throat and hauling a deep breath in to his lungs to steady his heartbeat.

Nesta’s breaths soughed through the charged air of the room, her chest rising and falling as if battling against the silk confines. Cassian lowered his chin to take her in properly and opened his mouth to say the gods only knew what— perhaps a thesis of her perfection, a prayer to the divine patchwork of the universe that brought them into each others orbit no matter how temporary their circumstances. Each time they met, Cassian was closer and closer to damning the universe for the very same.

The rising body heat, both his and Nesta’s, felt a bit like a cage with his hands trapped beneath him. Fully intending to honor their rules, he slid them out from under his body and gripped the bed linens once more, moaning at how the cool air tickled his fevered skin. He didn’t miss the way Nesta’s attention snapped toward the action, nor her quick recovery in an attempt to shield it from him. Suspicion and ire for her fiance threatened to choke him, but discussing either had no place in that moment. Or ever, if Nesta had anything to say of it. She usually had the last word no matter the topic.

“Nesta,” he rasped, pausing to gather himself when her eyes met his, “can you come for me again, Sweetheart?”

Fuck, he hoped she would. Nesta was always so responsive, but her release had turned her bones to jelly, it seemed. Considering he was still under “no touching” protocol, worshiping every inch of her smooth skin the way she deserved was out of the question at the moment. Next time, if the opportunity presented itself. Maybe. Hopefully.

Before uttering a word, Nesta pulled her shift over her head and tossed it carelessly to the floor. The sight of her— despite having very little room for imagination before— threatened to send him over the edge, but he gritted his teeth and fought against it. He wanted to feel Nesta come again, for the tight grip of her to carry him through each and every wave of pleasure.

Nesta scanned his body again, her expression turning almost sheepish. A tension lay beneath her actions at his question.

“I think so,” she moaned, hips rocking that same languid rhythm. Something like determination flashed across her face, and all he wanted was to take things into his own hands to save her the trouble.

It would only take one word, and he’d have her under him. He knew her body well if she could trust him to take care of her, but getting there wasn’t going to happen if her mind had been preoccupied before he’d landed on her balcony. And with demons he’d never know or understand. The thought gave him pause, particularly with her vigilance of his smallest actions.

“We’ll get you there,” he promised, his voice rough. With intentional slowness, he brought his wrists together before her and watched her brow wrinkle in consideration. “You’re safe with me.”

Emotions warred across her face— confusion, awe, perhaps a hint of relief. Whatever the combination, it was almost intimidating to be under the intensity of such focus. Her hips slowed to a halt, her decision made, and she reached out to grip each of his wrists with her elegant hands.

“You’re sure?”

Cassian nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Lust blazed down his spine at being on the receiving end of Nesta’s mercy, and although he mostly meant to make her more comfortable, he couldn’t ignore the way his body sang with anticipation.

Nesta leaned backward and tugged at his pants, still bunched around his calves. Any questions died on his tongue when, after a few tugs, Nesta oriented toward him with the leather stays of his pants.

Clever woman, he thought. She made quick work of his wrists and tugged upward until Cassian assisted in lifting his hands toward the headboard. Securing what remained of the leather cord around the decorative spindle mounted at the bed’s center, Nesta took her time kissing a path from his wrist, down his forearm, over his bicep, and finally, taking his mouth in a savage, claiming kiss that made his cock throb.

Her hips picked up pace, and Cassian’s jaw dropped in silent groan. They dissolved into quiet moans, Nesta’s eager and almost possessive grip all over his body. Determination shone beautifully across her face in the low light of her room, but watching her blue eyes roll in pleasure threatened any rational thought.

Nesta’s movements turned desperate in her chase for release, and Cassian couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted his chin in invitation, relieved when she leaned forward heavily and pressed her lips to his.

Rocking his hips into her, he dragged her bottom lip between his teeth. “Let me,” he murmured, punctuating the point with another press of his hips. “I’ve got you.”

Nesta whimpered. Her forehead rested against his chin— the only sign of her concession she would give, he thought— before releasing a long, low moan and lowering to the center of his chest.

His movement was restricted by his pants, but he managed to press his feet into the mattress enough to allow himself the leverage to thrust deeper inside her. Nesta’s hips stilled and allowed him full control, muttering soft curses against his skin with each roll of his hips.

Release taunted him. The way Nesta’s breathing had picked up and her nails pressed into his skin indicated how imminent it was for her. Cassian pressed a rough kiss to her hair and slowed his pace, pulling out almost entirely and rolling slowing into her once more. It wasn’t the first time he’d fucked Nesta in such a way, one that had her gasping his name into the quiet room and the head of his cock teasing the delicate, sensitive tissue just inside her entrance.

“Come for me,” he ordered roughly against her temple. “Take me with you.”

With the first clench of her walls around him, Cassian was gone— a slave to Nesta’s scent, to the way her body moved over him, and how each syllable of his name became a curse and a prayer from her lips. He turned his face quickly into his bicep, sinking his teeth into the muscle to keep from crying out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard. Truth be told, he was lucky he remembered his own name.

They lay there for several moments catching their breath. Sweat coated them both, but neither seemed to be in a hurry to move. Their time without risk of suspicions had likely run out minutes before, so one of them needed to take the initiative. Cassian decided it was enough to relax the savage grip he had on Nesta’s headboard and the leather stays, and they shared a chuckle at the way the wood creaked in relief. Perhaps he’d been holding on a bit tighter than he thought.

With a contented sigh, Nesta sat up and eased off of him to clean up. Cassian regretted the loss of her weight immediately, but she returned a minute later with a cool cloth in hand. The hem of her robe hanged close to the ground, and if the soft fabric hadn’t run the contours of her figure in such a satisfying way, the full coverage of the garment would have been downright criminal.

Nesta made quick work of releasing his hands and wrapped the cool cloth around each of his wrists to soothe the redness. It was unnecessary in Cassian’s opinion, but rejecting such an outward display of care from Nesta felt as safe as traveling a field riddled with snares.

“You know, the gauntlets will cover any marks.”

Nesta’s eyes slid to his, and his breath hitched. The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Maybe,” she conceded, her voice laced with dry humor. “Although, it seems poor form to send you on your way without making sure you’re alright.”

Cassian laughed, a rough chuckle in contrast to such an intimate moment. It was better that way. How his chest expanded, the warmth he felt— that road only led to impossible things, painful things.

Things he couldn’t help but want some nights, anyway.

Before he could conjure some sort of reply, Nesta reached for the leather stays and laced them loosely back into place to allow Cassian enough room to pull up his pants. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed to stand, tucking himself away and pretending he didn’t notice the way Nesta’s stare lingered. His attention was better fixed on the task at hand considering he needed to locate his tunic, wrestle with his flying leathers, and shove his feet back into his boots. The thought alone added a layer of fatigue to his loose, tired muscles.

He slid his tunic on and reached for his leathers, but Nesta’s voice interrupted. “Don’t you need to clean up? Won’t the others know?”

“I’d planned to clean-up in the bathroom near the room I’m staying in. No sense in leaving my scent behind in case your sister visits you here.”

Refocused, he made quick work of the many buckles on his flying gear. He wasn’t lying to Nesta with his answer. Every word was logical, rational— just as he’d intended. The hidden truth was that he couldn’t afford the potential intimacy of staying, couldn’t stomach the domesticity of it. The lines had been drawn in the sand many years ago by forces greater than themselves, and Cassian wasn’t the starry-eyed idealist that Rhys was. The wall represented far more than the division of land.

Nesta scoffed. “My sheets already smell of you. What’s the difference?”

Cassian finished tying his boots and stood to his full height. He walked slowly toward her, barely resisting the urge to reach out and tame a rogue strand of her hair. Or snap the ties of her robe. Either way.

Forcing his cockiest grin, he said, “Nothing, really.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “But the latter will have you thinking of me. It’s a risk I can justify.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and shoved him away, albeit half-heartedly. “I wonder how I’ll ever get the smell of gargoyle out of them. They may be better off burned.”

Cassian’s hand dropped to her waist, pulling her flush against him and kissing her greedily through his laughter. She kissed him with equal fervor, and it was a miracle he managed to pull himself away with any level of composure.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sweetheart.”

Her scowl had him biting the inside of his cheek as he took the several steps backward to the balcony doors. Nesta stayed rooted to her spot on the rug, those blue eyes locked up tight and giving nothing away.

She heaved a breath, crossing her arms. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”

The wind was chilly against his wings, and they twitched in anticipation of the flight.

“Maybe I’ll remember this time,” he teased. “Be sure to lock these—”

“I know how to secure my room, thank you,” she quipped.

Cassian backed away with his hands up in contrition. “Fair enough.”

He rolled his shoulders and turned to step onto the balcony’s stone ledge. He scanned the immediate perimeter and gauged the winds, but it was hard to tell if the thrumming under his skin had anything to do with either of them at all.

His wings flapped in assessment, and when he was satisfied with the conditions enough for take-off, he threw a knowing wink over his shoulder.

“Night, Nesta.”

A moment later, he was airborne. He swore he heard mutterings of “arrogant” and “brute” along the winds as if their loyalties insisted he was informed. Cassian chuckled, shaking his head back and forth.

Nothing he hadn’t heard before.

—

Flying laps to burn off steam had seemed like a decent idea— until he’d rounded the estate once and realized the bone-deep heaviness his body carried. It was enough to force himself to the proper landing and keep his feet nearly silent on his walk to the washroom.

Once he was properly clean, he dragged his body to his and Azriel’s room and crept quietly inside. Azriel was a terrible sleeper in his own quarters on the darkest night of the year, so Cassian didn’t have much room for error. And that was without consideration of how the dark favored Az in the first place. He glanced at Az’s sleeping form and breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed unaffected by his return.

With a grace uncharacteristic of his usual bedtime, Cassian peeled the blanket down the bed and settled against the sheet. He laid on his stomach to allow his wings adequate space and folded an arm beneath his pillow. The damned thing went flat under the weight of his head, and because his mind was occupied with all things Nesta, he almost heard a loaded comment about his head’s abnormal size.

A loud huff sounded in the room, and Cassian blinked against the darkness. It could have been his own breath with the way his head swam, but before he could embrace the false comfort of that theory, Azriel’s level voice rasped through the small space between their beds.

“You, brother,” he began, pausing to let out another breath, “have lost your damned mind.”

Perhaps it was his role as the Night Court’s Spymaster, but Az’s voice always held such cold calculation. It was soft and calm, yet loaded in a way that commanded focus. The image it conjured was something akin to a large swaddle of baby blankets, but upon folding back the corner, one found themselves looking at a bundle of daggers.

Cassian begrudged Azriel’s ability to be so careless with his breathing— for taking it for granted— when his own was lodged in his throat. Only his body’s involuntary panic forced air into his lungs seconds later. A million responses bounced around in his skull, and his tongue was prepared to fire off one that made the most sense when it finally landed.

His free hand moved to his face, his calluses making a rasping sound against the light stubble dusting his jaw. Cassian inhaled deeply and released it over several, controlled seconds. His hand continued its vigorous path over his eyes, cheeks, jaw, and provided some shallow illusion of comfort while he considered how to respond.

Care was required when talking to Azriel, mostly because Cassian never knew how much the asshole knew in the first place. For all he knew, Az thought he’d cut his duties short to fly over the human lands with minimal coverage. Either that, or despite his best efforts in cleaning up, the essence of his visit to Nesta’s room remained and sent Azriel’s shadows fluttering the moment he entered the room. But could he readily identify Cassian’s partner? Or did he assume him to be an impetuous, arrogant Male who took his risks in a local tavern?

Exhaustion settled into his bones, sending all his previous considerations into slow-floating splinters through his mind until they were a faint echo of good sense. The only cohesive thought he could muster rolled off his tongue, and he wasn’t naive to how much truth lay in two seemingly harmless words.

“I know.”

——————————————————————————

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