#MY WORMS . I CANT HOLD THEM BACK MUCH LONGER

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

HI ITS ME AGAIN good morrow tis i #1murielstan99 im coming out of my anon cage ihtdjvd aaaand uhh for my debut *ushers you into the living room to sit u down on a chair facing a makeshift stage consisting of more chairs a blanket and cardboard boxes. a banner of glued A4 printer paper reads "UR ALL REALLY COOL & I LIKE U THAnk you for tolᵉʳᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍᵐᵉ" in increasingly squished lettering. everything is covered in glitter* ive decided to ✨steal your gig✨ hkhfgdvjgd NO IM SORRY i just wrote you something yippiee!! its tiny i just felt inspired and i got so excited to try it its uh. kinda specific but it came to my head and the ideas just came so fast after i spent like 5 hours on this and didnt even notice them slip by lmao OK ROLL THE CLIP

MC and M6 are walking along a footpath/sidewalk together and along the way they happen upon a whole parade of snails/tiny frogs!!/earthworms/crabs?... (choose your own adventure i guess i cant make up my mind khgxhfx), that came out for a lil sip of the early morning dew, covering up a considerable distance of our duos way. theyre perfectly content to be living their best wet life and blissfully unaware they could get stepped on at any moment when people start to roll out of their houses to carry out their own busy schedules! MC shall categorically not allow that!!! they at first discreetly then with increasing urgency start picking up the little creatures and tossing them to the closest safest space in reach.

Julian: oh worm? yeah hes battled enough leeches in his day to have a good grip on this task. these dont even bite! this is gonna be *grabs snail too hard and hears a crack* OH fu-

some quick healing magic later he decides to observe you for a while at first to figure out the best approach, squatting next to you and fawning over how gentle you are and how many you can fit in your hand. he offers his gloves to you but they dont fit and only make it harder. tries again when he feels more confident and makes his way through the crowded path close behind you

Asra: sits himself down on the grass near you, teases you lovingly about how seriously youre taking your Hero of the Realm job, not letting a single endangered soul go unnoticed under your watch. helps a little, takes a break when his back starts to ache from bending down, gets some more again, feeds some to faust while youre not looking, and one when youre looking for good measure, uses a spell to move them dozens at once to make it faster when the sun starts to get too hot to stay for much longer

Nadia: applauds your devotion to protecting the environment but are you sure this doesnt qualify for an infestation and perhaps we should let natural selection run its course? in the end you spend enough time there for her to get invested too. Doesnt grab any by force, places her hand out and waits for something to catch a ride (in the snail scenario you just stare at her stoically holding the same position while the speciman inches towards her but when it boops into her finger it starts equally slowly turning around (to her hidden but great disappointment))

Muriel: you just give each other a look of determination and nod. commence operation Back in the Wild immediately. youre trained proffesionals, with countless hours of experience on the job gained on your forest patrols while dealing with more worn out mainstream dirtpaths used by a bigger population of people regularly and on early morning trips into town where you have encountered this scenario often enough. you got this covered.

you get your Tools of the Trade (never leave home withoutem) out of your pockets: glass jars magically perma-moistened with water to provide Ultimate💯Slippagge💯Comfort while simultaneously discouraging escape and little thin but blunt sticks (designed & made by the mountain himself) for lifting the snails heads up to get them to peel off the ground so as not to tear their shells off when picking them up/scooping up earthworms to grab them easier and gentler than with your fingers/stopping a tiny frog midjump and blocking it from escaping, try to get it to hop on the stick (thats the hardest one to get right. many attempts and abundant patience needed)/giving a crab the stick to pinch on to neutralize it, pop it in the jar baby

you work with sharp efficiency, well versed in all the techniques and get nearly all the little buddies out of harms way before the sun gets beaming too high & hot and they fry to a crisp. you exchange a fistbump put on your cool sunglasses awesomely and walk off with your back to a bunch of explosions, sick guitar licks and a disembodied "YYYEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" audible in the distance. 💯💯💯🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💥⭐🤙🤙🤙🤘🤘life is good

Pasha: well we were kind of in a rush to get to a business meeting, and shes not exactly fond of the pests that she has been locked in eternal combat with in continued efforts to protect her garden, but. aww, they are pretty adorably tiny and helpless! alright lets do this quick! she holds out her skirt/jacket/apron as a container for you to place them into for safekeeping, when you collect them all she promptly YEETS them over onto the nearest green patch as is her signature move when getting intruders off of her prized parsleys & peppers. well. theyre small enough not to take fall damage anyway. you hope

Lucio: he keeps walking, after a minute notices MC lagging back, jogs back to you shouting to ask whats the holdup, proceeds to accidentally step on a snail. after a thorough scolding keeps his distance for a bit, refusing to pick up a single slimy little bastard no thank you hes had enough bad experience with that sort of thing he'll sit this one out. after 20 minutes of grumbling and pacing and watching you pitterpatter to n fro he gets to ground level to observe the critters. why do you even care cmon theyre so teeny weeny. pokes the snails on their lil eyestalks to his great amusement when they squash their faces into themselves. from there we work up to gentle picking up. he retches a lil when he sees you with a whole handful of wormies. hopes to god you didnt see that. you pretend you didnt💕

ok this is slightly less tiny than what i first had in mind and a lot more snail centered than advertised dgkhdtyfg wow you totally cant who i wrote this in mind with no favoritism here no siree anywAy this week was the most fun ive ever had i think. also after writing this i think i can safely say ive decided on a snail familiar for me xDD i can only hope youll enjoy this in some way lmao god i hope theres so weird incomprehensible mistakes i checked it like 27 times i swear ok im clicking send nnnnnnnnnnnnnnoW 321GOAAAHH

@tetsuooooooooooo hi!! I'm so excited to make a new friend!!

And oh. my. WORD, these kinds of scenarios are what makes headcanons some of my favorite fandom things to read! Thank you for sending this, friend, these are priceless and I love them!!! ^.^

The different reaction to the slimy little things, too, it's all too cute for me, and the sunglasses were such a perfect mental image for Muriel's B)

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana crack #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[mochiwrites]

HELLO KIDN TUMBLR USER MOCHIWRITES i have been thinking about your solar eclipse au for far too logn please enjoy my leftover brain worms

what if proteus was the one to have been smited, to teach solara a lesson. to teach him that all his rebellion does is cause harm to those associated with him. what if solara has to learn to move on, has to live with the guilt that if hed just Shut Up proteus would still be there. still be Alive.

what if solara finally, after years of greiving, notice medea. medea, who has been quietly by his side for millenium, who has grieved alongside him, who was the closest he had ever gotten since proteus to someone who understood? what if, slowly, solara learns to love again?

until he learns of a man down on earth who makes enchanting contraptions, tracks the sun and moon, creates astonishing maps and inventions around the concept of the back and forth between the sun and the moon. and what if solara finds the reincarnation of proteus and is thrown headfirst into confronting his lingering feelings over his counterpart, his soulmate? hes happy with medea, hes moved on, but that ache is still there tugging at him, telling him to just say hello. become friends. nothing more.

and he cant help himself. solara has always been just a little bit selfish. he can keep this a secret to himself for now. hell tell medea one day, but he just wants a bit of time with pr- mumbo just. to himself. for a while.

proteus is gone, but solara can lie to himself just a little bit longer. let himself dwell in the tragic tale of the sun and the moon.

HELLO DEAR ANON !!!!!!

first of all, screams at you???? second of all, cries at you????? /pos GOD THANK YOU FOR THESE BRAIN WORMS THESE ARE DELICIOUS.

solar eclipse au would have hit so different if it was mumbo who was killed, leaving grian and scar behind.... grian being hesitant to welcome scar's comfort because he's frankly terrified of losing anyone the way he did mumbo. but scar slowly works through all of his walls, brings them down....

grian would be notice that he's falling for scar and think two (2) things. #1: oh god am I betraying proteus? #2: what if I lose him too?

and I just imagine this really heartbreaking scene of scar finally letting it slip that he loves grian and grian just.... not handling it well because yes he loves scar too but what if I lose you? I can't go through it again.

anD THEN HE FINDS MUMBO IN THE HUMAN REALM AND WELL THAT JUST THROWS EVERYTHING OFF.

because proteus will always be solara's first love. no matter what. there will always be a part of his heart that belongs to proteus and I think scar understands that (grian will never compare the two of them. he loves them both so much, and they're both equally important to him). so then throw in proteus' reincarnation and well... it's like the wound is opening all over again. and yes, he's very selfish indeed.

he wants them both, of course he does.

and grian keeps mumbo a secret for just a little bit (he does talk to scar eventually, of course. and maybe scar holds him while he cries, but scar understands. but at least grian can pursue mumbo without feeling like he has to choose between them).

#mochi speaks #solar eclipse au #grumbo #scarian #hermitshipping #moon god!mumbo #sun god!grian #god of luck!scar

[smoshpvnk]

i share some of your sentiments about shaymien, i didnt want to give even a longer rant on other peoples asks lol. first of all i loove mitski's acoustic recording of francis forever on youtube, its how i discovered her! and to a heavier note, i have been the person who had to end/take some space from friendships becouse the other parts energy was way too much to handle for me, and i would feel i could get mean or bitter about them which then would end up making more nervous around them. (which i would hate!! i didnt dislike them as a whole person, as their core. its just the way we connect become so mismatched) i can see that this would make the other person nervous too, but my nervous response was to back away to not hurt them with my bitterness thats building, theirs would be to latching to more. i had to have a difficult conversation that i didnt/still dont feel 100 percent good about. i just have to accept that some amount of hurt is necesarry in life, and you cant shy away from it. that only gives shallow relationships, and even worse in the long run //abusive// ones. i still respected them and liked lots of parts of them and wished them the best! maybe with a person who can be more compassionate/honest/just overal can match their vibe then me? idk, shit is complex lol. i didnt want to put this one on shaymien too much, because i can clearly see im way too heavily biased from my own experience, and im probably projecting a lot! just wanted to share my thoughts, and why this might be hitting harder for some of us..despite what the reality of the situation might be. sorry if my rant opened a bad can of worms -whats a good can of worms? lol, anyways, take care! (also i agree, i hope daimens not working himself too much to distract. i mean we all can do that to an extent. just hope it doesnt take too long for it to become actually harmful/neglecting of real problems)

thanks for sharing!! it is interesting to see the different perspectives on this, i have definitely been on both sides in terms of relationship reciprocation that we’re talking about, but i definitely feel like i am usually the one that is more…obsessive, i guess? it’s something i’ve realized i’ve been doing for a while now, there are aspects of my personality that are obsessive, and i’m also kind of having to deal with the guilt of that, and struggling with wanting to be 100% myself not holding back, but also not wanting to be too much for people to make them uncomfortable idk. this is entirely on me now and not on damien anymore really oopsies!

#asks #anonymous #anon #shaymien thoughts #kind of #p

[justarandomgirly]

My Loki series Ep4

To quote Tom - now we're getting somewhere

Previous episodes:

Note: This episode feels short, but only because I tried to make it as brief as possible. Previous posts were too long and its annoying. Dialogues would be much longer,fight scene that I described in like 2 lines would be 5 minutes long. Etc. I hope you enjoy it. I cant wait for your feedback!

Loki teleports back to Utgard. Drrf and Fenrir by his side. Loki is planning to visit his mother in the palace, but as soon as he gets close to it, they are at courtyard, several guards stand in their way. Fenrir growls. One of them says

- You are forbidden to enter, Asgardian.

Loki looks at Jotun. He is irritated by his tone of voice, how he pronounced Asgardian. Like he is a worm. Loki has flashbacks to times he and asgardians talked down like this to Jotuns.

- I am Jotun just like you says Loki.

- Not according to our queen.

Loki could easily take them all down. But he knows that would lead to even more trouble. Plus he must protect Drrf and Fenrir. He looks one more time at Jotuns in front of him and says to Drrf

- Come.

They turn around and want to leave, but as soon as Loki turns his back to them, one of them says

- Coward.

Loki stops. He quickly turns around and shoots that Jotun with energy blast. He ends up on the floor several feet away. Loki is prepared to hit another one, but Drrf holds his hand and says

- No, master. There will be time for war. But not now. Not now.

Jotuns were ready to fight, each holding a weapon, but they were standing still, looking at Loki. Waiting for him to start the fight or leave.

Loki looked at Drrf and nodded. They turned around and left.

- Bunch of morons Loki mumbles.

- Come, master. I'll show you others.

- Others?

- Others like me. You wanted to see them. I think now its time.

____________________________________

They leave the palace courtyard. Loki is visibly angry.

- This is outrageous he repeats

Fenrir happily follow him and Drrf is by his side.

- Palace is also my home Loki says How can that bitch lock me out?

- Master. You are at war with her. Did you really expect her to welcome you back?

Loki just shakes his head. He lets Drrf to lead the way and when they are walking throught Utgard Loki asks

- Where are you taking me?

- To the part of city called Outyards.

- Let me guess. It isnt a neighbourhood with palaces and spas.

- That's quite correct, master. We are an exclusive, as we call it, brotherhood. We live in hiding deep underground. Only outlaws and those cast out by their own kind live in Outyards. They find shelter here when there is nowhere else to go. Hands the name. Since we are prey to normal size Jotuns, we come out only after dark. It is a perfect place for us to hide.

And very soon Loki finds out what he meant. The buildings are smaller and a little crooked, some even made of wood, not stone like in other parts of city, there is not one person here in clean clothing, Jotuns are sitting on the ground, eating whatever they could find with bare hands. Loki could not believe such difference. Such graceful creatures a mile away, now this sight.

- This way, said Drrf.

Loki followed him into a small door. He had to lean forward to get through. He and Fenrir entered a small dark house. Drrf opened another even smaller door and disappeared behind them. Loki followed him and found out he was now on top of stairs to a cellar or something. He used his green seidr to conjur a green light so he could see where he was going. After many stairs his feet reached the floor. Without hesitation he followed Drrf. After maybe 500 steps he recognized fire in the distance with multiple small creatures sitting around it. When they heard steps few of them turned around and when they saw Loki, for them a big figure, they assumed they were in danger and started hissing. Fenrir did the same.

- No my friends dont be scared said Drrf It is me, Drrf.

- Who are you bringing here? Who is this intruder?

- Thats Loki explained Drrf.

That name appeared to have power here. Creatures who all looked similar to Drrf all looked at Loki with a mix of fear, respect and admiration. But mostly fear.

- Loki said one of them Our king.

____________________________________

Loki and Drrf now sit among them. Loki finds out they were just roasting some animal. Some drinks are poured and they give Loki one glass. He looks at it with suspicion but one of the creatures who Loki heard was called Udr said

- Its not poison your majesty. Its wine.

Drrf drank so Loki too. He took a small sip and found out it was delicious. Somebody threw Fenrir a bone so he was busy.

- Where did you get it asked Loki

- We didnt steal it said Udr If thats what youre implying your majesty. We make it. Kolga here is great with these sorts of things.

Kolga, smaller than Drrf replied

- Yes altho I admit the equipment to make wine did not magicaly appear. I stole it.

Loki sits there and enjoys the wine and listens to them talk. They are like tiny spies, he finds out. They sneak everywhere. They tell Loki that queen is preparing for the war, arming every man she can find, they heard she ordered to forge new swords and shields, wider and thicker. That they see her in the city more than before.

- How about men that are on my side? Loki asks.

- Many Udr says More and more talk about you with hope. You know, many dont like queen's policies.

- But I am from Asgard says Loki.

- You'd be surprised how many see it as a good thing. I heard men say you might bring a fresh look on things.

Loki looks around and says

- I would first very much like to do something about this. How you live here. Like ragtag.

- But we are says a small creature in the corner.

Loki says - No youre not. You are just as Jotuns as every other out there. Being small doesnt mean your existance matters less. Look at me. I am small as well. And yet I am aiming for the throne.

- But you were born as a son of a king

- Yes but I wasnt exactly wanted either. I mean Laufey did leave me on a rock to die. My point is, we decide our fate. We write our own stories. I dont see myself as a ragbag and you shouldnt either.

- We dont. Said another small Jotun. Others do. And they are in much greater numbers. Even if we got together, and went up, we would be easily outnunbered and slaughtered. And eaten like this bull we have here.

- Did that happen already? Asked Loki quietly.

Tiny Jotuns looked at each other.

- Multiple times said Drrf There were a lot more of us. We lost friends. They were going out to get food and never returned.

Loki shook his head.

- How is queen not doing anything about it?

- Because she doesnt see us as citizens said Udr Why do you think Jotuns keep killing us? Because it isnt considered a crime.

Loki kept shaking his head.

- Reach out your hands he says.

Tiny Jotuns do so and in palm of each one of them a tiny dagger appears.

- Hide them well Loki said It is my gift to you. For protection.

They were never given anything so the Thank you is coming from all sides. Loki is overwhelmed. This lights up the mood and they all raise their glasses and drink to Loki and better times that come with him. They start telling stories and he listens. And laughs. He doesnt even realize its been hours. He feels as he is among his own kind.

____________________________________

Aegir is sitting on the balcony of his chambers, sipping some drink. Vidofnir is out as always at this hour to breathe fresh air. He sees him circling above the city then the bird turns around and he appears to be in a hurry. Aegir knows him. He stands up reaches out his arm and Vidofnir sits on his arm. He shrieks loudly. Aegir understands his language. He tells him he saw Loki, where and with whom. Aegir knows that there is an 'army of runts' living there, as they call them, he walks out of his room to get his men. He meets Dufa on the way

- Where are you doing at this hour, uncle?

- Loki has returned. He is in Outyards

She says with serious face

- I am going too. We end this tonight.

______________________________________

Loki is having fun with his new friends. They are all laughing now after a few drinks and so is Loki. Now its him who is telling them stories from his youth, about adventures with Thor or Sigyn. Until a few minutes later when one of them comes running and says

- Soldiers! Soldiers are coming!

Panic begins. One of them shouts

- Come! Quickly!

They all run towards another exit they built in case of emergency. Loki goes with them. As they run out into the night, Loki first sees walls of the buildings around them. And not a person in sight. Until they hear a loud shriek from above them. Its Vidofnir, spreading his giant wings sitting on a tower. Loki shoots an energy blasts at him but the bird moves. They keep running but suddenly a group of soldiers barricades their way.

- No says Loki quietly its almost whisper

Loki's hands glow green, he is prepared to attack them and all tiny jotuns instinctively stand behind him. Then he sees Aegir, he emerges from behind his men with a weird smile. Him. Few seconds after that Dufa follows him,with scepter in her hand. Fenrir growls.

- Get out of our way Loki warns them

Dufa comes closer, her men behind her

- You give us those runts.

- Dont call them that Loki hisses and his hands glow green even more.

Dufa smiles

- What a coincidence. Scum befriended scum.

A scepter in her hand glows.

- Last warning, sister.

She smiles and shoots at him. Loki moves away and shouts at his friends

- Ruuuuun!

Hell breaks loose. Tiny jotuns start running and Loki tries to protect them but Dufa keeps him busy when she keeps attacking him with the scepter. Loki manages to shout at Fenrir ae he understands

- Go! Run!

Fenrir does seem to understand and runs and disappears into the night. Aegir and his men catch all small Jotuns,bind their hands and Loki and Aegir look at each other for brief moment. Im going to kill you say Loki's eyes. Aegir just smiles and leads his men out of this place.

- No! Loki screams when he sees all of them handcuffed, one of soldiers even kicks Drrf in the back. Loki's blood is boiling.

Dufa attack him again but Loki disappears and Dufa looks around and sees that Loki is attacking their men, and telekinetically uncuffs his tiny friends.

- Run! He shouts

They do. But in that moment Loki stopped paying attention and Dufa shot him with the scepter. Loki is hit and falls on his back several feet away. He is off for few seconds. Enough for Aegir and his men to re-take the small ones and handcuff them again. Aegir looks at Dufa then at Loki and she says

- Go. He is mine

Loki's eyesight is little hazy. He hears a mixture of voices, cant tell what is happening. He wants to stand up and he manages to sit up. He sees Dufa approaching him slowly. She puts the scepter to his chest, on the golden asgardian symbol.

- You might have Jotun skin she says But deep down in your heart you are still Asgardian scum.

Loki looks into her face, eyes wet. Thinking about the promise he made to Drf. That he is going to keep him and his friends safe. That nothing's gonna happen to them. He might be killed by his own sister, but this is the only thing he can think of. That he broke his promise. Didnt protect them.

- How Gods die tells you how they lived she smiles. She is then clearly ready to kill him, but this gave Loki enough time to regain his strength and he teleports her away. He crowls for a few meters, then gets on his knees. Fenrir runs back to him, whining. He licks Loki's hand. Loki is looking at the darkness around him. Empty look on his face. One horn on his helmet is broken.

______________________________________

Next we would cut to Dufa being teleported into the palace, angry that Loki did that to her. That would wake up her mother and Dufa would tell her what happened, Farbauti still repeating how they should come with some arrangement not this. How she cant believe she would have killed her own brother. I didnt feel like writing this scene, but I would put it here

______________________________________

Loki spends several minutes just thinking and not thinking at the same time. He feels so empty and filled with rage at the same time. After what feels like an eternity, he decides he needs to speak one person. He wants to her voice right now. Loki sends his clone to Asgard, to Sigyn's chambers. He finds her there, in a chair next to the fireplace, reading a book, dressed in nightgown. When she sees him, knowing immediately its only astral projection, she stands up and approaches him. She notices the broken horn and most importantly - this is the first time she sees him in his Jotun form. Loki, with all of that going on, didnt even realize. The look on his face cant be described as anything else but total destruction. He would have also been pleased to see her in sheer nightgown if the occasion was different. But now he doesnt even notice.

- What happened? She asks.

Loki closes his eyes

- I lost. I lost them. They are gone.

- Who, Loki? Who is gone?

- My friends. Drrf and others. They took them.

- Who? My uncle and my sister. The soldiers. They took them. I promised I would care care if them...

She sadly smiles

- You've always been doing that Loki. Trying to protect others. So many times we were in a battle or any kind of danger and you tried to keep an eye on us all, making sure none of us gets hurt.

- This is different he says quietly I gave Drrf my word...I made a promise.

- Loki. Look at me.

He slowly raises his eyes to hers.

- You cant protect everyone.

He forgets she is not really there and tries to touch her. She fades away in front of his eyes.

________________________________________

Fenrir licking his hand brings him back to reality. Loki pets him and then he stands up. He knows what he must do. Dufa had the scepter or Jotun kings but he had no weapon of his. He already more less knows this city.

He marches and he marches for a long time when he finally gets to the smithy down by what they call The gate of death. He doesnt care why they call it that. Its almost dawn so the owner is awake. Loki knocks on his door, gives him a fist full of coins and says

- I want to forge a weapon. Myself.

The Jotun man leads him to the workshop and leaves him there all by himself. Loki knows the art of blacksmithing. Next few minutes would be a montage of Loki forging himself a sword. With beautiful shots at his face. Imagine Tom's expressions, especialy anger.

Then he would leave and put it into holster on his back that he conjured. And he marches again until he is outside the city. He turns around and looks at Utgard. He turns his back to the city and takes out the casket. Fenrir gets scared and hides behind him.

With it, Loki would build a spectacular castle made of ice. The people in Utgard would watch from far away as an ice castle emerges out of nothing. It would be spectacular, with everything a king needs in a castle.

Then he looks at his creation and hides the casket. He is looking for several minutes thinking about everything that his creation represents. He marches towards the castle with Fenrir behind him. As he walks in, he sees something like this.

Loki slowly approaches the throne in the back of the hall and sits on it. He takes the sword out of the holster, looks at it, then lifts it up. The sword is flaming now.

Laevatainn.

@applebees-enthusiast @alirhi @kayleigh-nightingale

[semischarmed]

Detour, Part 4

Given your previous declaration of your intent to wear his skin, you release a bit of your hold over him to see his reaction. Scott, apparently unfazed, looks to the distance, no doubt planning an escape route. The guy isn’t stupid, so you try to make out his gameplan. You catch the briefest glimpse he takes of the patch of skin where the medallion used to be and you are immediately reminded of the moment of lost control of him in your possession of Alex. ‘Motherfucker. Of course he had a plan’. Despite the risk, you decide to proceed. Scott may have that bod, and his steel will, but that pales in comparison to the years of lust and envy brewing in you. ‘Fuck it, worse case scenario we accidentally give this egomaniac god-like power. What could go wrong? Might as well fuck with him a little’.

You mess with your body’s vocal cords to make sure both your old voice and Alex’s speak. With a unified moan you state “I can’t wait to take a Scottie joyride”. 

You say your part to Scott. “You know, even with how much of an asshole you were back then, I always masturbated , every night, to the fantasy of that thick horse dick ravaging me and shuddering inside my little body.” You chuckle. “Who could have known that in just a few short years, we could both be masturbating that thick horse dick together, to the reality of my little body shuddering inside you.”

Alex adds: “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like, moving around in that tower of muscle”. You lick your lips. “Besides, you have some pretty yoked friends, Scott. Well, since we’re gonna be parading your skin around, we have some pretty yoked friends. We can’t wait to use you, to use that thick horse dick of yours, to cum inside them, to inject them with a little Alex. But don’t worry, even when we get sick of wearing you, we’ll never really leave. We’re gonna fill you in so deep, you’ll never fully get us out. You’re gonna be our little Scottie fuck doll till the day you die.”

With Alex still in the driver’s seat, you walk toward your best friend. He makes you rub your chest a little. “The truth is, Scottie, he feels amazing inside me. I love him in here and I know he’s here to sta-ayy” Alex moans a little “God I love being his puppet. I can feel his strings all inside me, worming into me, slipping, writhing, controlling me.” The Alex-y you makes you show Scott your right hand for effect, which starts spasming unnaturally before you make a quick, veined fist. You chuckle at this attempt to scare him into submission but then begin to ponder if it would actually be possible to transform your entire body that way for the possession. You and Alex strip naked. You then start masturbating your shared body right in front of Scott, as he looks away in revulsion at the sight of his corrupted best friend furiously beating his meat. “Thank you for helping me find my soulmate Scott- well, my soul master. I can’t wait for my little strings to become your little strings” he pouts “Cmon Scott. You’re so cute when you’re angry.” “Hate me Scott! Hate your best friend! Hate the faggot from high school that’s inside him! I want you livid when we fill you up. I want you boiling. Your anger really gets me going. When we pilot you around, I’m gonna make you watch. I’m gonna make you watch the new faggot Scott, faggot you corrupting and controlling your own friends!“ When you finally release, you bring a little to your mouth for inspection.

“We taste even better than expected” you say, breathless, half moaning, “here try some.” you scoop up the rest and try to push it to Scott, who quickly turns to the side. It smears his cheek instead.

You lean your face right in front of Scott’s- till your foreheads touch- and run your Alex-y fingers gently through his sweaty hair. You take a deep inhale from you position. Subtle, musky, another scent you just can’t quite place, it’s altogether manly. He smells uniquely Scotty. You can’t wait till you also smell uniquely Scotty. You rest all of your sweaty naked body right on top of Scott, still facing him. He winces slightly at the additional weight.

“Get the fuck off me!”

Scott spits right at your face. You take a little taste. ”MMhmmmmmm, I cant wait to have all that running inside me, even your spit tastes good”. He grimaces in disgust. Using your power to mentally restrain his movements, you grab his neck and give it a squeeze to force his mouth open. You scoop the bit of the Alex cum on his cheek into his now gaping maw with your thumb. You corral the spit on your face earlier into your mouth and mix it with your own, which you spit back right at his mouth. “Here’s a little primer for what we’ll taste like when we become one” you say with a dirty wink. With your powers, you force him to swallow your new “together” potion. 

“You were always the grand prize“ you say, while you trace your fingers all over your soon-to-be body. “After I let you sell your friend out, did you really think I’d just leave you after that. This new me, Alex, he was just a little detour. How could I know he’d be this into it,” You run your fingers through your hair, “but, in the end, I have to thank you. We were important little detour because- [moan] he completes me” Alex delicately guides your fingers around Scott’s nipples. You tug on them to bring his sweaty chest to yours and in your dark embrace you whisper seductively in his ear “You’ll complete us too....” Scott shudders and you moan in fake disappointment, “you’re such a greedy little asshole, you know, you can’t keep all that man to yourself. We wanna have fun too. We can’t wait to get inside that Scottie party.”

With your newfound powers, you start liquefying parts of yourself, as scott watches in horror. You start with the arm- naked, pungent, sweaty skin become a noxious, sticky, amorphous mass. It’s a horrific sight, for sure, but it becomes even more horrific to Scott when you will your newly created slime to start moving. You make sure to give him a close up of the wriggling stringy fibers of yourself inside the goo.

At this point, Scott really starts panicking.

“Look man, I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have been such a piece of shit to you in High School. Please! Cmon! You already have Alex.” Son of a bitch! You knew it! Of course he still remembers you!

Caught and preoccupied in your transformation, Scott finds the power to push you off him several feet back. Adrenaline, no doubt, but the man is also pure muscle, so it’s no surprise. “Get the fuck off me! Don’t fucking go near me, you creep!”

“Oh Scott”, you moan his name in a mocking tone. “You are such a great friend. Give me a hug”. Slimy tendrils from your body shoot out force Scott back to your sweaty embrace. You shove your pits at his face. “Mmmmphh!” he shouts in disgust and nausea. You take another deep whiff of his sweaty chest and armpits. Intoxicatingly musky, and again, uniquely Scotty. “When I’m inside you, I’m gonna make you stinky like me” you laugh “we’re gonna smell great together. We’re gonna feel great together. And to your friends? We’re gonna taste great together,“ you exhale, as you lick your thick Alex-y lips and smile an out of place angelic smile.

“You’re never gonna fucking take me, asshole!” He shouts.

You ignore him as you continue your little monologue and start slithering in some of your fleshy mass into his mouth. “And don’t worry,” an unholy harmony of your old voice and Alex’s voice says, “We forgive you for high school. Well.... “. You now moan with a mix your old voice and some new borrowed Scott vocals that your parts have already claimed. “You’ll forgive you.” You now lodge his throat full of you as your liquid tendrils greedily rush down his throat. You want to give Scott the complete experience, so more of your slimy tendrils snake through his biceps and pits, around his vascular back and throat and start jamming straight into his asshole. He moans involuntarily as he feels your wriggling mass pass the g-spot into his prime real estate. As odd as it sounds coming out of him, he even sounds alpha when he moans. You make sure to keep this area stimulated, since you can no longer restrain his body mentally. To complete his Alex infestation, you start pumping his cock to loosen a passage for yourself and then feed more slime into his piss slit. This particular action causes his mouth to open even wider than before, which you use to stuff even more slime inside. 

Despite the raw pleasure he’s in and despite your mass still continually flowing into him, Scott stands and takes shaky steps toward the door. That iron will always did turn you on. You can’t wait to make it yours. You double your speed, and start writhing and twisting erratically as you continue to flow in. When it becomes clear that he is determined to continue, you start streaming into any entryway you can find. Every orifice, every hole in his body- even some small cuts he had on his arm- are flooded with your liquid. His towering form finally falls to the ground, unconscious from the effort he expended, while the last parts of you slip inside.

When Scott wakes, he immediately straightens up. He’s impossibly full, filled to the brim with you inside him, still squirming, slipping through his body parts rhythmically. A little dribbling of yourself spills out and oozes out of his mouth, but you quickly force it back inside him before he reach for it. He needs to take all of you. 

Your future face contorts into one of pain and struggle until it settles in into a scornful, hateful, contempt. ‘How much energy does this guy fucking have?’ you think in panic, as Scott roars and in one fell swoop, flexes all the thick muscles in his body to subjugate your mass. He still looks a little bloated, but the squirming inside him stops. He smirks as feels your powers flow through him. He investigates himself and the new control he has over body parts. He flexes his arms as he starts willing parts of his body to expand and constrict on command. Scott walks up to his mirror. “I told you you couldn’t fucking take me” he says with a smirk. If Alex was a sports car, sleek and smooth, Scott would be a fucking truck, and a massive one at that. The man exudes raw power so it’s no wonder you’re struggling reining him in. Before all hope is fully lost, you feel a spark in you.

“You’re right” Scott’s voice states, unprompted. The squirming and wriggling inside him starts up again and his eyes roll back. “It’s a good thing he took a little detour taking and corrupting my tight piece of ass,” Scott moans uncharacteristically. Scott’s beefy arms start fidgeting uncontrollably “because this...little Alex puppet is... gonna show his best friend how to be a little good meat-suit for his new m-master” he forces through Scott’s vocal cords. Scott’s whole body is now trembling uncontrollably. The writhing inside him has started up again, though this time far more energetic. It was coming from everywhere. He feels his fingers, his legs constrict and relax unnaturally. He screams as his body starts scratching himself everywhere erratically and convulsing, trying to get you out. But you’re in too deep. You’re in his veins, in his muscles, in every fiber of his being. Arms still twitching from the control Alex demands, Scott starts involuntarily pumping his meat. “FUUUUUuuuuCK!!!” he roars in his mix of ecstasy and struggle, before everything in him stops.

----------

Scott sits, unexpressive, motionless. Then, a bit of movement. The corners of his lips stretch slightly and upward into a deranged smile. You twist his nipples hard and do another uncharacteristic moan in amazement. Goddamn he’s sensitive. Raw ecstasy decorates his face- your face as you begin to explore the rest of you. You reward his body for yielding to you by finishing the job you started earlier and continue pumping his meat. You release in a maelstrom. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. In the midst of your orgasm, you feel your body puff and expand massively, impossibly, taut, as deep inside Scott you integrate the core of your being into him fully. You subjugate your new muscles and skin around yourself and force them to re-constrict around their new owner. Tighter. Tighter. You feel his muscles from inside him as you pull them ever tighter until the invisible barrier between you two tears and his hunky form coalesces into you. The Alex part of you forces Scott to smile through the process of his own takeover. “AAAARRRGGH!” Scott screams in one last shout of defiance as your insides and his finally become one. 

Your eyes go wide and start fluttering while you lick yourself clean. ‘mmmmmm fuck’ Of course it tastes fucking amazing, every piece of the new you is amazing. You flex your first of many trademark “he’s the shit-and he knows it-Scotty sneers,” this new face of yours exactly reflecting one you’ve seen a thousand times in high school torment. A face that Alex had never seen until now, on account of being his best friend. Finally, fully, Scott is yours. 

Then his vitality hits. Fuck. Pure power!! “MIIINE” You scream with your new vocal cords as you start punching the air with your power. You adopt a boxer’s stance and- left hook. Right hook. Fuck. With each strike you can feel your own force as this new body executes your every whim. “MIIIINE!” Raw testosterone, raw power. Goddamn. You rush over and start punching and slamming your new beefy hands on the floor maniacally, reveling in finally feeling what it must have felt like in high school from the other side. “MIIINE!” This new jock body is limitless. You run a sweaty hand on his dick, and unsurprisingly it hardens instantly on command. You furiously start masturbating again in a frenzy, if only to release some of his pent up power. “Mine.” As Scott, you have ascended. In Scott, you are a god. With this body, with this soul, you can do anything you fucking want.

You piece together an outfit out of the clothes strewn about the apartment: Alex’s dirty used underwear and his old shirt, which fit impossibly tight on you. Alex always did like to keep things a little tighter than they should be- well, he is you, so you do too and now Scott does as well. You slip your new vascular legs through Scott’s skinniest pair of jeans and your new beast arms through his leather jacket. You‘ve always fancied Alex-your scent so you want to make sure you imprint it into this Scott-bod you now have. Then again, people have pretty unique scents. With you inside Scott, you’re fairly certain this new Scott naturally emanates a noxious combination of both their scents. You don’t put any cologne or deodorant on- why would you ever try to diminish this proof of your dominance over their bodies. 

You check yourself in the mirror and give your nipples one delightful final little twist, your run your fingers through your hair, and give your new self one hell of a Scottie smile before you step out into the world, a new man henceforth.

-End Part 4- 

Whew, what a ride. Hope y’all had fun. Not really sure where else I could take this so this is the final part for now.

#male possession #male body control #malepossession #revenge #male puppet

[mightymorphingayagenda]

cant wait for lethal combination chapter 5! and loved the holiday nessian fic you wrote!

then you shan’t have to wait! and thank you so much, nonnie. the fic they’re talking about and all previous chapters of lethal combo can be found here,  x

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” 

Nesta kept her gaze on the wall of oak opposite her.  

“Is this the part where I tell you to get on your knees for me?” She asked.  

Humourless. 

And she could practically feel the feral rage radiating from him. Bleeding through the grate to her left like he were trying to smoke her out.  

“This is the part where you-“ 

“Shhh.” 

A lean shadow, a head of auburn hair, muted in the darkness like the decayed verdure of autumn, barely distinguishable through the latticed window no bigger than her hand.  

She’d made Eris wait almost a day.  

In Nesta’s experience teenage girls understood psychological warfare better than any CIA types she’d met. And rule one in the handbook was never call him back right away.  

Eris might as well have been a cute boy from home room, the advice stood fast.  

She’d also chosen the time and place for their meeting, giving no concessions in authority. Picking the church as unlike her he’d inherited both the egregious wealth of his family and their faith. Irish Catholic. Meaning he’d find himself here every Sunday evening regardless, and providing not only the guise of normality, but the cosy anonymity of a confessional.  

The only people who did secrecy better than assassins, were the Catholics.  

It was perfect really, the perfect plan. Undistracted Nesta had been able to work it out pretty quickly after Cassian had left. Leaving her all those hours between four in the morning and her meeting the following evening with nothing to do but hate him.  

Avoiding returning to the bed he’d screwed her in. Glaring at his jacket which still hung beside her front door over a bottle of vodka.  

It was a blow to her pride to be sure. The closest thing to rejection she’d ever received from a man. Whatsmore, some gooey part of her she’d pushed down had been upset.  

Too worked up to sleep she’d spent hours tucked into her armchair and entertaining plucking his teeth from his mouth like the petals of a rose. He loves me, he loves me not. Because worse than revealing himself to be a complete ass as most men did, Cassian had done so subsequent to fucking her better than she could have dreamed. And she’d had that dream. Multiple times.  

Wet dreams that couldn’t hold a candle to the way he’d had her dripping down to her knees, begging for his cock, trembling on legs he’d thrown over his shoulder to lick out her cunt like it was the reason he got out of bed in the morning. The man had spoilt her rotten.  

Nesta knew she probably shouldn’t have been thinking about sex in a church. Her mother was likely burning with a fury hotter than the flames that surrounded her down below, but she couldn’t help it. Because while she hated the sinner- ever bronze buffed, tattooed inch of him - god did she love the sin.  

“The adult is going to talk,” she said quietly. “If you want to throw a tantrum you can do it on your own time because as of this moment, I’m officially off the clock.”  

Eris’ silence said he knew better than to interrupt her. Perhaps he was smarter than she was about to give him credit for.  

“In fact I stopped working for you as of the moment you chose to question my methods and profess concerns that I may have jeopardised our venture because I lack the professionalism to keep my legs shut,” she said.  

“So if you want Helion Day neutralised, you’re going to have to find someone else to do the job. Though I seriously doubt you’ll be able to.” 

Cue phase two of the plan.  

Because she may have hated Cassian, but she wanted the monopoly on causing him emotional anguish.  

Like hell some other pro was going to put a bullet between Helion’s eyes and devastate his bodyguard. Making that man cry was Nesta’s prerogative. 

“I have made it clear to anyone in my field you might attempt to solicit that you are a impertinent, trust fund brat, who insists on micromanaging the work of other’s despite your incompetence in an attempt to feel important beyond the breeding mummy lied and told you made you special.” 

“I wasn’t aware you also specialised in character assassination.” 

Eris’ voice was charred with a sweetness like wealth; earthy and rich it reminded Nesta of muscovado sugar.  

He was right. She was being unprofessional. But she was tired and hungover and out of a gorgeous lay so fuck him.  

“My specialities are no longer any of your business, Mr Vanserra,” she replied. “My displeasure however, should be of great concern to you.”  

“Is that a threat?” 

“I wouldn’t do you the courtesy of warning you if I intended to kill you.” 

Eris said nothing.  

“You can consider it incentive if it helps you sleep at night though,” Nesta continued.  “To do as you’re told.” 

She gave him strict instructions.  Wait five minutes then leave. Never contact me.  Forget we were ever in correspondence in the first place.   

“Murder is cheap, Mr Vanserra. You don’t want to learn the cost of disobeying me. It’s not the kind of thing daddy’s wallet can cover.” 

She emerged from the confessional, slim shades obscuring her eyes and the deep bruises beneath. Her heels clipping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the station of votive candles at the back of the church.  

Each glowing stick a prayer for a lost loved one. Matches and and a few unlit offerings still available.  

She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.  

And Nesta couldn’t have missed the fresco above those colossal doors of oak and rustic gold flake even through the plumes of smoke that curled upwards as she stalked lazily down the isle:  a depiction of the Heavenly Father himself.  

She didn’t bother flicking a glance behind her to the confessional.  

Who’s your daddy, now?  

- 

She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.  

They’d smelled like sex and heaven and she’d smelt like cigarettes and a church and that was all she knew before the exhaustion caught up with her, the world went black, and she was waking up in exactly the same position . Vex’s fluffy tail swishing against her ear. The tickling sensation plucking her from the bliss of pure nothingness.  

Nesta groaned a little as she rolled over and pulled herself to sit up. Pleased to find she’d had the energy to take off her clothes. Unlike her makeup.  

“Damn it,”  she hissed as she saw the smudged mascara on the pillow.  

Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway… 

“Ugh,” she huffed, dropping flat onto her back again.  

She’d been awake less then seven seconds and a man had already ruined her day. Just thinking about him…  

“Ugh,” she said again, louder.  Like she was angry with the ceiling for not acknowledging her the first time. 

Vex meowed, his little head nudging at her bare arm. As though he were trying to coax her bra strap back up to a respectable position on her shoulder.  

“Hi, baby,” she grumbled, picking him up for a cuddle. “You hungry?” 

He meowed again.  

Padding down to the kitchen she’d made them both breakfast (technically lunch, she’d slept in till almost one) and carrying her plate of fruit back upstairs to draw a bubble bath he winded between her ankles, catching her attention as he hissed at something in the living room.  

“What?” she inquired, looking down at him before tilting her head to follow his own.  

Cassian’s jacket.  

Uhg.  

Now she was thinking about him again.  

Childish, dumb, insecure little prick. How he’d had the fucking nerve to call her a coward was truly a mystery.  

He was so crippled by that fear of not being good enough he’d immediately presumed she wanted rid of him. Lashing out defensively- God he was infuriating.  

She looked back to Vex who was now staring up at her. “If that thing somehow ends up on the floor,” she said, “you have permission to piss on it”. 

He purred.  

Vex truly was the only boy worth his salt. Something he proved yet again in hopping atop her bathroom counter and guarding her like a fluffy little gargoyle as she sank into the bath.  Opening m the window to let out the smoke of her cigarette so as not to bother him.  The sound of rain slipping something comforting through the January chill, twirls of smoke and steam visible in fatigued plumes.  

Another lethal habit she’d picked up from Aunt Ripleigh.  

The thought gave her an unpleasant feeling in her heart. Like a worm writhing in the rotted meat of an apple.  

Ripleigh wasn’t actually her aunt. But Nesta avoided her much like she did the rest of her family and that was what really counted. Besides, spilling blood together arguably made for a closer bond than just sharing it.  

Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.  

Aunt Ripleigh – initials AR, an homage to the assassin’s preferred weapon the AR-47, American hybrid of the Russian Автома́т Кала́шников, A.K.A the AK-47.  

Some mothers left their little girls pearls, or scrapbooks packed with baby pictures and the lingering scent of their perfume. Angelina Archeron had left her’s a Mafia assassin’s cell number.  

Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.  

Not until she’d found herself with her hands caked in something dark and sticky, her boyfriend’s skin stuffed beneath the lip of her nails and a taste in her mouth like hot rust.  

She’d been seventeen the first time she’d killed a man.  

Not a man. A boy.  

A few months her senior, Thomas been a child just like her.  

Her first crush. Her first boyfriend, her first love, and her first.  

Nesta had known Thomas was using her for sex.  Just as she’d been using him for his money, and wasn’t that what love was? Finding the gratification of your needs in someone else? In Thomas’s case he’d needed to get his dick wet.  In Nesta’s…it was more than embarrassing but half the time all she’d needed was a hot meal.  

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d called him in the dead of the night to hook up in his Porsche so she could sleep there instead of at home, where the windows screamed freezing air from their shattered mouths and the electricity bill was rarely paid.  

But one night Nesta hadn’t felt like earning his kindness. And so he hadn’t offered it. 

Instead he’d held her wrists, ripped at her shirt, forced his hands into her jeans. Pushed up against the bonnet of that Porsche by a lake in woods she’d torn through his face, her nails splitting through the waterline beneath his eyes as she’d kicked and screamed, blood pouring, his hand on her neck, throwing her head against the wing mirror. Heat spilling heavy down her jaw and neck from somewhere which had smelt like lose change.  

She remembers blood in her eyes and the taste of soft, smooth skin and a kind of rubbery strength between her teeth as she’d bit down hard until something had popped or burst or split with a squirt or a tear. She remembers spitting out whatever of Thomas’s ear she’d torn off between her teeth and something swinging into her lower ribs so hard one broke. She remembers the sounds that had been both of them and then at some point just her. 

Her screaming.  

Her sticky, disgusting face, stinging with every horribly wet sob and shriek. The shrieks that hadn’t choked to shaky breaths until she’d pulled herself to sit back against the wheel of the car. Clutching at her ribs which had only hurt so much worse when she’d thrown up right next to her boyfriend’s body.  What looked like a pint of blood glowing in the dust. His face…his head.  

It’d looked like a Halloween prop. Like dark jam. Like a brutalised seventeen year old dead in the dirt.  

And sometime after noticing one of his teeth in the dust, Nesta had realised how fucked she was.  

It wasn’t much of an achievement when you considered Grafton, Vermont had a population short of seven-hundred: but the Mandrays had been quite possibly the most well connected and well off people in its less than seven-hundred square miles.  And despite keeping Nesta’s name out of their sneering mouths through referring to her almost exclusively as “that white-trash bitch”, that population short of seven hundred didn’t give a shit about her.  

Didn’t give a shit she’d been top of her class with a place at Georgetown. Because Nesta could never have afforded to accept it.   

And it certainly didn’t matter she was a pageant queen when everyone knew the petty cash prizes were the only thing that paid the rent on their shitty one bedroom. Especially with things barely breaking even.  In spite of Feyre’s making use of their father’s rifle and sourcing for the butcher any chance she could.  

A too skinny child in the woods with a gun and blood in her braids.  

Nesta’s efforts to keep food on the table had always seemed to pale in comparison to that. But she’d never felt bad about it. Wouldn’t bother hating herself when everybody else was already doing that for her.  

Nesta Archeron was the cheap fuck that nice Mandray boy was messing around with. The gold digger with the dead commie mom and daddy issues. 

No one would have ever believed he’d tried to rape her.  

And she’d had no money for a decent lawyer- she hadn’t even had anyone to call. Not her dad, not a fourteen-year old Feyre nor Elain, sixteen and the last person she’d ever want wrapped up in something like this.  

Nesta had been desperate and vulnerable and jaded for as long as she could remember but she’d never felt as terrified and broken as she had in that moment. Crying alone and hugging herself tightly, she’d just wanted her mom. As cold and neglectful and dead as the woman was.  

“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” 

 Her mother’s last words.  

 Ten numbers.  

 Nesta had somehow gotten to her feet, only realising Thomas had broken a few of her fingers when she’d tried opening the car door.  All but collapsing inside once she’d managed as she’d fumbled for her phone.  

 “три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” she’d repeated to herself, voice hoarse and wet and cracking as she’d dialled.  

 Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.  

 Like a phone number.  

 No doubt concussed Nesta had deemed it logical enough.  Her mother’s dying breath a kind of atonement for leaving her children with nothing in the whole word but a father that could watch his girls starve and go into the woods with his hunting rifle and whore themselves out like they meant nothing.  

 A life-line in the deep waters opaque with clouds of blood.  

 “Здравствуйте.” 

Those three syllables had been like a punch to the gut.  

Nesta had made a noise that might have sounded like “mom?” or the creaking of a damn as it ached under duress. She’d obviously known it wasn’t her mother, but she hadn’t heard a woman speak Russia since- hadn’t heard Russian at all in years.  

“Who is this?”  

Trying to pull herself together Nesta had taken a breath that had rattled, dripping wet and slightly wheezing. Everything was going to be okay. She’d been right. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Of all the phone numbers in the world what was the likelihood that the voice on the end of this one spoke her mother’s native tongue?   

“I’m- I’m Angelina Archeron daughter. She gave me this number I don’t know what to do I-” 

The specifics aren’t as clear after that. Like a jigsaw left out in the rain or soaked in fresh hot blood, the pieces, the details, they’d melted to mush.  

 A mess she’d held in her hands and wondered what the fuck to do with.  

What do you do with a dead body and the knew found knowledge your mother was a boyevik for the Russian Mafia? What do you do with her retirement package which contained nothing but the contact for an assassin working for the New York arm.  

Nesta had only known what she wasn’t going to do.  

Go down for murder.  

Aunt Ripleigh had told her what to do over the phone, instructing her on how to deal with her injuries and Thomas’ pulp of a body.  How to explain the state of her face and ribs and fingers and head. What to do with his car and how to speak and sit and and react when then police came asking questions about Thomas’ disappearance. How to get away with it.  

 Nesta had followed each direction flawlessly.  Consoled in finally having a definitive plan. Even a plan that started with “buy meat cleaver, trash bag, battery powered blender and bucket, with cash from dead boyfriend’s wallet.” Even a plan that got progressively worse from that point on.  

 Filleting chunks of a body that had once been inside her. Hauling a trash bag of boyfriend smoothie to the river with broken fingers.  The thick slop sinking almost immediately just as Aunt Ripleigh had said it would. Before she’d told Nesta to burn the bones and roast marshmallows over them.  

 “If it had not been you it would have been next girl,” Ripleigh had said. “And she might not have had your fight.”  

 “You mean she might not have been disturbed enough to kill her boyfriend?” 

 “Killer instincts, Anastasia. Is not disturbed, is talent,” Aunt Ripleigh had said. “Cannot be taught but what can be taught you learn quick. No whining. Like very good puppy with very sharp teeth.” 

 “Woof,” Nesta had said dryly. 

 “Stray puppy though, no? Is why you have no manners.”

 “You offering to adopt me?” 

 “I have pet already. And my husband is funnier than you.” 

Nesta’s compromised rib had punished her for finding that funny.  

 “But you ever want job, you call me.” 

 Needless to say that was not the last time she’d called Aunt Ripleigh.  

 Three weeks later and four months shy of getting her high school diploma Nesta had turned eighteen and moved to New York in order to “pursue modelling”.  

In reality she was doing coffee runs with a dash more arsenic than normal and luring prosecutors to hotel rooms they’d never leave. A personal assistant of sorts to Aunt Ripleigh.  

She had kept the mafia, the Bratva, at an arms length whenever she’d been able. Paying off the shitty house she’d left her sisters in with one less mouth to feed and not wanting their address in any files accessible to people with skill sets like her’s.  

And while working with Ripleigh had been a mortiferous riot, two gals shattering the glass ceiling in their industry and slitting throats with the shards; Nesta had developed expensive taste from the fringes of high criminal society. She’d cared less about the art of killing than she had about the art she could hang up in a penthouse apartment if she were in private practice.  Her lust for comfort winning out after two years or so at which point she’d gone freelance. Assisting in a few heists before getting in with a crowd of Nazi hunters for a bit, all the while keeping in touch with her mentor.  

Until Feyre had moved to the city.  

 Then she’d given up on the more dangerous antics,  selling out for safer and even more lucrative bets like CEOs and cutting ties with Aunt Ripleigh. Terrified if not a little paranoid of something happening to her sister. Which had been shit.  Because Nesta hadn’t had any other friends. Like, at all.  

 At eighteen Feyre was still as bitter and proud as she’d been when Nesta had left. As Nesta herself still was.  

 Elain had tried bridging her sisters’ relationship once she’d moved to New York but she’d had better success career-wise. Working at a florists before eventually graduating to a self employed wedding planner. 

 Nesta had kept her thoughts on the psychological tells of a girl jilted at the alter becoming a wedding planner to herself. Mostly because Elain was always brining her cake samples she’d stolen and Nesta wasn’t going to sabotage her supply of free cake.  

 Feyre on the other hand had gone about far less conventional means of making a living. The child was a force to be reckoned with if for nothing but her resourcefulness and almost objectionable will to survive. Fiercely independent and clumsily capable she’d taken a crack at everything while selling her art on the side. It was a piece she’d modelled for that had delivered her to true economic grandeur however.  

 Well, “modelled” maybe wasn’t the word. Her sister had essentially been used as a human stamp. Her naked body detailed with intricately painted swirls then pressed to canvas.  

 The work had been showcased somewhere high brow and had caught the eye of one Mr Rhysand Velaris, thirty-one and the sole inheritor of his late father’s worldly possessions. Among which were several millions of dollars.  

 Half of which now belonged to her sister thanks to a very reckless prenup on his part.  

 Though Nesta had briefly wondered if he’d spent at least that on the engagement ring.  A glittering iceberg that seemed to only glare brighter next to the stark black band tattooed just beneath it, a matching tattoo on Rhysand’s own ring finger. Because of course they’d eloped in Paris and gotten tattoos instead of wedding rings. 

 If Nesta had been closer to her baby sister she imagined she might have felt betrayed on some level. But as things were, Nesta wasn’t entirely sure she would have received an invite even if they’d had a traditional wedding, planned to perfection by Elain. 

 It was probably the worst part of her job. The distance she had to put between herself and everyone she had the potential to care about. A distance she could never close even if she decided to retire right this minute because the damage had already been done.  Nesta had become a liability to their safety the minute she’d moved here and started in this line of work.  

 She took another chocolate from the box she’d snatched from downstairs on second thought. Her supply already dwindling thanks to the rather depression freight train of thought she’d embarked on.   

That and the fact they were really very good.  

Cassian may have been a prick, but she couldn’t deny he had great taste.  

In chocolate, and women, she thought smugly.  Sinking deeper into the basin.  

A heat flushed up her neck that had nothing to do with the bath as she unwillingly remembered how he’d softly coaxed one of these lovely little parcels between her full lips. The drunk hunger in his deep brown eyes and what he’d done next, snapping her lace thong between his teeth-  

Her music stopped. Only to be replaced by a buzzing thrum of her phone.  

Leaning forward Nesta checked the caller ID before swiping across the screen to accept the call and sinking back to her earlier position.  

“I’m not in the mood,” she hummed dismissively, head tipped back against the lip of the tub and eyes closing. She’d known this was coming, better to get it over with.  

“When I supply you with handsome, rich, and eligible men, I do not expect you to break them!” Feyre castigated through the phone, and anyone might guess she were the elder sibling.   

Feyre indeed thought herself wiser and more worldly than both Nesta and Elain, and getting married hadn’t helped diminish her false sense of maturity. Thrusting her character into some weird sarcastic seriousness that mirrored her husband’s demeanour perfectly. It made Nesta cringe so thoroughly she was mildly concerned about getting wrinkles.   

“And I thought we’d grown out of sharing toys, but it seems both our expectations were thwarted.” 

“Humans aren’t toys!” Feyre reminded her. Not that Nesta didn’t already know that. No vibrator had never made her cum as hard as Cassian had.  

“And if you resented me setting you up with Cassian then why did you fuck him ?” Feyre asked. And she said fuck as though it were synonymous to stab or poison.  

“Was it to punish me? Because if so you did a spectacular job. He’s crazier about you than ever and won’t stop moping. The second-hand embarrassment is painful enough without the added agony of how annoying it is.”  

If he likes me so much why was he so eager to assume the worst of me? Nesta thought spitefully. 

It didn’t matter that she technically was lying to him. He didn’t know that.  

“You told me to give him a chance.”  

“And you couldn’t have decided you didn’t like him before having sex with him?” 

Nesta wasn’t surprised Feyre had taken Cassian’s version of things at face value.   

Her husband’s family were unimpeachably wonderful in her eyes. Meanwhile Nesta remained just another reminder of a time Feyre couldn’t have afforded the plane ticket to get to New York, let alone a town house on the upper east side. A cold bitch who hadn’t begged to join the weird cult that was the Velaris family and their innermost circle when Feyre had married Rhysand last year.  

“Oh I’d already worked out he was an ass by that point but I thought he could at least make up for putting me through the date. Not much going on in that head but he quite clearly had it all going on- 

“Ew ew ew!” Feyre interrupted. “One, I need this conversation to steer clear of anything anatomical, and two, do you have to be so horrible?” 

“You’re the one pimping out your friends, I just took you up on the offer.”  

“Ever heard of the third date rule?” 

“Didn’t you marry Rhysand on the third date?” 

Feyre sighed.  

“Cassian’s a good guy, Nes. It takes a lot to come out the other side of what he’s been through a good man and he deserves the world so-” 

“So why did you send him my way?” 

Nesta knew what Feyre thought of her. And if she hadn’t then this conversation would have made it very clear.  

“Because Nesta! You’re twenty-four and already a crazy cat lady! I’m sorry I tried to save you from dying alone and having Vex eat your corpse.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes.  

“Have you ever considered I choose to be alone because I like it?” She asked. 

Feyre sighed again, but it was softer this time, sad more than exasperated.  

“You’re not alone, Nesta,” she said. “You’re lonely.” 

It was annoying enough that she was right, she didn’t have to be so pretentious about it aswell.  

“I’m fine,” Nesta said.  

“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.  

“Well I’ve been smoking.” 

“I’ll be sure to put how funny you were on your headstone when those things kill you.” 

“I’m racing Rhysand to the grave, he has more cigars than I do shoes.” 

“He only smokes them on special occasions.” 

“And how do you know this isn’t a celebratory cigarette on account of you calling me?” 

“Because instead of saying hi you said I’m not in the mood.” 

“Oh so you did hear me?” 

“I hear you, Nesta,” Feyre conceded, disappointment weighing on her words. “Loud and clear. Have a good week.”  

She hung up.  

“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.  

When the silence replied she sank beneath the water. As though she hoped it might act as the cushioned walls of a padded cell meant to protect those who posed a danger to themselves.  

It didn’t. And that unpleasant ache didn’t go away. It never did.  

Worse than the dull pounding in her ears and tightness in her chest as she held her breath.  

But it would be nothing compared to the devastation of seeing Feyre or Elain hurt. The tender ache of keeping them at arms length, knowing they were at least there to brush her fingers against, was worth avoiding spending the rest of her life reaching for someone taken from her.  

Perhaps that was also why she’d wanted so fiercely to dislike Cassian.  

Nesta re-emerged with a gasp, her chest on fire.  

What an unpleasant notion, she thought, running her fingers through her wet hair and  sinking back as she took a slower breath. That she’d been looking for a reason to dislike him even after overcoming the minor detail she was going to kill his friend and client.  An excuse to throw in the towel as soon as she could.  Because it was just easier.  

Easier than accepting she was fundamentally terrified of keeping him around.  

Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.  

Fuck.  

Her being mad at him had been a cop out.  

Because yes he’d been a petty, insecure idiot;  but hadn’t she told him she was going to fuck and chuck him? Hadn’t she been at typically fast to get in a fight with him? Substantiating his insecurities.  

Nesta might have been furious at his calling her a coward, but he hadn’t actually been wrong. 

She’d let some subliminal fear convince her to sabotage things.  

A subliminal and blissfully irrational fear she realised because, Cassian, a monument of pure muscle, could definitely look after himself. He’d been marine corps for Christ’s sake. Not to mention she’d seen him take down Helion enough times in the ring while still working for Eris and the fact the man literally specialised in keeping people safe for a living! 

Nesta felt a weird and almost unfamiliar lightness in her shoulders. It felt a little like hope. Which was also terrifying.  

But she wasn’t going to the let the fear control her this time.  

 — 

 Cassian had ignored her calls.  

All three.  

Which was fine because she’d been stalking him for the past month. She knew exactly where he’d be that evening and doing things in person meant she could kill him if he kept up the asshole routine.  

Nesta’s platform stiletto boots clipped against the laminate flooring as she emerged from the elevator.  Stalking lazily through the top floor of the Illyria building.   

Even if she killed Cassian he was going to die happy.  She looked good enough to eat. Thick hair fastened back into a high ponytail, the details of her face were subject to full attention. Her eyes appearing almost wider and lashes lavished with a black like her jet thigh-highs and tied coat. Plump lips softly lined and shaded, she looked drop dead fucking gorgeous.  

Though it was what she was wearing under her fastened coat that was the real killer.  

Nesta didn’t uncross her ankles from where they’d flicked over one another as she let herself lean against the doorframe of Cassian’s office.  

It was wide open. No privacy needed when everyone else had gone home around four hours ago. The night detail on Helion allowing Cassian time to catch up on work as he had every night and well into the morning for the past month.   

“All work and no play?”  

Cassian looked up from his desk.  

“I can fix that,” she said.  

He’d never looked more handsome.  

Hair bundled into a dark band, his shirt cuffed at his forearms and a bit of scruff marring his chiselled jaw. A pair of slim reading glasses were pushed up his slightly imperfect nose and it was such a turn on Nesta was glad she was leaning against something.  

He looked a little exhausted in a kind of brooding and adorable way.  

It gave her this awful pining to massage those sculpted shoulders as he let loose a deep, tired sigh, arms folding across that powerful chest causing his white shirt to hiss as he leaned back into his chair. It was a fucking massive bit of furniture. But then it had to be to accommodate him.  

“What are you doing here?”  

Rude. ��

Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.  

“You ignored my calls,” she said by way of explanation. Making her way to the bookcase and running her fingers across a row of spines. It was mostly files, but she noticed a few novels as well.  

“You kicked me out of your bed at three in the morning.” 

She turned to find him watching her.  

His words were dismissive and effortlessly confrontational as usual. But there was an edge to his voice. And it wasn’t arousal. Even if his gaze caught on her boots and lingering there for longer than he’d probably care to admit.  

Nesta leaned back against the bookshelf, inspecting her manicure with an eye roll.  

“You’re still upset about that?”  

“Not at all,” he said with a smirk. Reclining back against the chair a little further, hips rolling and arms casually folding. Too casually. The dangerous grace of it speaking to the emotion that no doubt roiled beneath his bronze skin. Belied by that bullshit cockiness which grated her to the bone. “It seems I dodged a bullet.” 

“Oh really?” 

“The whole hot but mean cliché is one thing, but crazy hookup who stalks me-“ 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.   

She’d seen hints of this before. The rugged and crude act meant to cover up the insecurity she’d also been treated to.  

“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot you can’t ever admit what it is you want.” 

“You don’t have a clue what I want.” 

“I have several, Nesta.” He looked her up and down pointedly. 

The way he said her name. Even like this it made her weak in the knees while her fingers itched to choke him.  

It was all very conflicting.  

“Oddly confident in your last performance for someone so insecure,” she quipped lazily.  

Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.   

“What do I have to be insecure about?” He said. “I didn’t hide behind a half-ass lie to throw someone out of my bed. And I’m pretty sure even your neighbours can attest to how good of a time I gave you,” he smirked again.  “You’re not a good enough liar for the way you moaned my name to have been an act.” 

The white hot fist in her stomach folded in on itself as it melted to a stickiness despite the misguided insult. She certainly hadn’t been putting it on Saturday. Every sound he’d drawn from her dripping with sincerity. Every moan and whimper well deserved.   

“You’re right,” she said.  

Cassian blinked.  

Nesta prowled toward him and hummed, “those, four, orgasms, were about as fake as my emergency.” 

The sultry softness to her voice thickened to something less affected at those last words.  

Cassian scoffed. Though there was something withdrawn and careful to him that hadn’t been there a second ago. Like a snake recoiling in case it needed to strike.  “Your emergency, of course. Which was?” 

“Nothing to do with you.”  

He shook his head, laughing bitterly.   

“Seriously, Nesta? You’ve had two days to come up with something now.”  

“You’re not listening to me,” Nesta slipped atop the corner of the desk, perching there with her long legs crossed over one another. The blade of a stiletto heel close enough to brush up his calf if she wanted to make him shiver.  

But she didn’t. She just wanted him to listen. To understand what she was saying so she didn’t have to say anything more because for fucks sake he was the one who’d acted up and yet she was here putting her pride on the line again.  

“It had nothing, to do with you,” she said slowly.  

A weighted silence settled like snow between them.   

Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.  

“Shit.” 

His head fell into those large hands.   

“Shiiiiiiiit,” he cursed again. “Oh god, how badly have I fucked up?” He groaned, looking up.  So humbled and distraught it was almost comical.  

“Irredeemably.” Her eyes flirted with the notion of a little smile even if her mouth remained unquirked as she propped her hands against the desk behind her and leaned into them to more comfortably watch him suffer.  

“I’d beg you not to tease me but honestly I think it’s the least I deserve- fuck.” 

“Like me teasing you isn’t the highlight of your day.” She rolled her eyes.  

Cassian laughed, pained and almost sheepish, which shouldn’t have been hot but god it made her blush.  

Keep your cool goddamn it. She wanted a little more bang for her buck where grovelling was concerned before she let on how eager she was for things to get back on track.  

“Want to flat out abuse me and make it the highlight of my year?” 

She was struggling to keep the smile off her face even as she said, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding bad behaviour. You’re a man, you get enough of that already.” 

“Nesta,” he took his glasses off, setting them down on the desk beside her thigh. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’m, really, really fucking sorry I’m an idiot.” 

Nesta slid of the desk.  

“Go on,” she instructed.  

“A moron a fool a stupid, stupid son of a bitch.” 

Taking a step forward she was stood between his thighs. Picking up his glasses and pushing them back on his nose. Missing the sight of this hulking, powerhouse of a man in spectacles.  

“I’m sorry.” Cassian was looking up at her with those big brown eyes, and the bastard actually leaned into her palm.  

“Oh for fucks sake how did anyone discipline you as a child with those damn puppy-dog eyes?” She growled softly, furious.  

“They didn’t to be honest,” he admitted with a breathy laugh.  

“I can tell.” 

She slid her hands to his shoulders, fingers curling soft and possessive over the stacked muscle and palms pressed to his upper chest, stepping tighter into him.  

“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”  

Cassian swallowed.  

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he tried. Intoxicatingly deep, trying to maintain that arrogant and playful edge in a way that made his words all the hotter. The simmering ache he attempted to push down all but throbbing in his voice.   

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she returned, brows arched. Battling a smirk off her face.  

“Can I ask you to do something for me, then?” 

“If you say please.” 

“Please don’t screw around with me.” 

Nesta faltered.  

Those warm hands came to rest on her lower back, long fingers curling slightly into the fabric and coaxing her that last bit closer so that her thighs brushed against the edge of his chair and her stomach was brushing up against his.  

“I’m really into you,” he admitted.  “You’re smart and you’re beautiful, and at first I thought the whole hard to get thing was an act but woman you are genuinely hard to get and it is, so sexy. But whatever it is that’s holding you back, that made you wait a week to call me, that made you claim all you wanted was a hook up; I’m clearly not cut out to compete,” he confessed. “It got in my head, and that’s on me and me lashing out at you the other night that’s on me too and I’m so, so sorry Nesta. I need to know where I stand with you though. I need to know if you’re actually interested in me. Because I like you. But I’m too old for games.” 

The silence was so thick she could have cut through it with a knife.  

Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.  

“That’s good,” she assured him at last. “Because I’m not a toy.”  

She brought her fingers to the belt of her coat and pulled slow and deliberate.  

Black glazed her figure with a gorgeous intimacy. The dress hugging at what little it concealed with perfection enough to make up for its lake of mercy. Long legs sheathed in those thigh-high boots, the item was short enough that a decent length of her thighs could be seen. Interrupted at the last possible moment by sleek jet as though she’d been dipped in oil of purest night.   

Cassian’s eyes blew out to sticky treacle behind those glasses.  

“I’m human, Cass,” she hummed, tossing her coat onto the desk behind her as she spoke. “Which means I make mistakes.” He swallowed as she sighed softly, her cleavage swelling a little with the motion.  “And that I have needs. Needs you can be the one to fulfill or not.” 

She slipped into his lap, straddling him, knees bent either side of his thighs. The corded strength of which pressed painfully and exhilaratingly apparent against the soft seam of her inner thighs and she was genuinely suffering from some kind of contact high. Every inch of him seizing up subtly, deliciously taught at her touch in an effort not to respond and yet it only revealed just how much she affected him.  

“Nesta-“ 

“Shhhhhh,” she interrupted. Hands cupping that ruggedly handsome face and titling it back to tuck her’s against him slowly. “But I want it to be you,” she purred against his jaw, tracing her nose up the stubbled curve. “Let me show you how bad.” 

“Someone could come back-“ 

“I don’t care,” Nesta murmured against his mouth. “I want you.” 

His eyes fluttered shut. And she felt his cock stir in those immaculately tailored slacks.  

“Nesta-” 

She could feel every muscle that licked up his stomach tremble with a drawn out contraction as she said it again, her hands slipping down to his broad shoulders. 

“I want you,” she purred again.  

He might have tried to breath.  And it might have rubbed up something uncomfortably nice in her lower tummy.  

“Say it,” she whispered, tilting her face so that the tip of her nose brushed up the side of his. Her breath hot on his stubbled Cupid’s bow and hands running down the solid power of his upper body, burning up through his shirt. “Say it, Cassian.” 

His brown eyes like cognac and magnolia were hooded behind his glasses as he conceded.  

“You want me,” he breathed.  

She grazed her mouth against his. Lips parted suggestively and an almost silent, utterly cruel noise escaping her.  

The length of his thick cock pressed up against the seam of her plush sex as he grew to full, hard attention in his slacks. Warm and thrilling even through her panties and their open mouths melted into one another hot and heavy, tongues caressing as his large hands came to her knees and smoothed up her bare thighs covetously. 

“Fuck,” he groaned lazily as her hips began rolling deeply into him, and her hands slid under his shirt. Fingers splayed, she snaked up the cobbled muscle of his stomach, the flesh burnished and warm beneath her touch. His shirt riding up to reveal the gutter of his hips, gruesomely toned and dusted with hair.   

“This is…such a…” he breathed, between the perfect and yearning motions of their jaws, a hand smoothing up her waist in a way that made her shiver.  

“Dream come true?” She hummed, kissing him wanton and unhurried. Dangerously close to becoming a brainless mess with the way his cock rubbed up her core.  

His groan melted to a laugh or maybe it was the other way round.  

“Yes,” he admitted breathlessly. “And a bad, bad…idea.” 

“Well you’ve been a bad, bad boy, Cassian,” she whispered filthily against his ear, before capturing the lobe between her teeth softly.  

She sucked and nibbled oh so gently and he expelled a breath so gravelly and masculine it twisted the hungry knot in her core tighter. 

“Nesta…we-fuck you’re good at that…” he groaned lethargically . “Sweetheart, we can’t…” 

“Why not,” she coed quietly, the sound airy and affectedly filthy.  

“We’re…” he choked as he took in the sight of her cleavage, pushed intimately to his chest and escaping the neckline of her dress like a plume of toothpaste squeezed from the tube. “Fucking hell Nesta we’re in my office.” 

“And I’m saying you could be in me.” 

She rocked her hips against him with a particularly cruel slant.  

The groan that escaped him made something flip in her stomach, tossing about whatever sweet, impossible to describe feeling rushed there at the same time at the way his head fell back against the chair as she worked him over.  The hot friction that rubbed against her sensitive core the cherry on top of the sweet, creamy, decadent sundae.  

“Besides,” she moaned, breathless and sultry. Teeth plunging softly into her plump bottom lip as she continued rolling her hips. Hands rubbing over his shoulders and providing her leverage. “You’re the boss.” 

“I think we both know…that I’m not the boss…right now…” he groaned. Almost pained.  

“Your cock a little much for those slacks?” She hummed, faux sympathy dripping through her mocking pout. 

“I thought you liked a tight fit,” she teased, still pouting but eyes smokey. Her toes curling in her boots as her fingers began work on pulling his shirt apart.  

The buttons popped undone with a sensual and pining tempo and she was moaning quietly into his mouth as she explored the panes and ripples of that powerful upper body. More than thorough in her hands-on assessment.  

Cassian’s own hands were keeping just as busy, massaging and kneading her ass indulgently before smoothing over her rolling hips and eventually coming to her lower back. His thumbs pressing to the small of her back either side of her spine and it made something tight inside her swoon. The touch so hot and the memory it conjured so good. His big hands on her as he fucked her from behind.  

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned deeply, as she began rocking into him tighter, hotter. The impression of his cock lined up just right with her aching core.  

“Hey, baby,” She purred, drunk on the friction that made her whole body throb and hum with pleasure and the tip of her nose brushing the side of his. Hands snaking from his exposed chest to either side of his face and capturing his bruised mouth with her own. Chewing on his bottom lip obscenely, the friction beginning to push her over edge.  

“Fuck you’re incredible,” he groaned huskily once she let up. Kissing back decadently. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed almost mindlessly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nesta.” 

“You wanna show me how sorry you are?” she purred, sultry and low, mouth parting, forehead still pressed to his and eyes fluttering open to hold his own.   

Cassian nodded, dumb and silent and eager and Jesus it turned her on.  

“Yeah? You wanna make me cum?” She hummed.  

“Yes, yes, please.” 

“Touch me, Cassian,” she whispered against his open mouth. “Make it up to me, make me feel good.” 

Cassian’s hands slid back to her ass and she moaned into the kiss he captured her lips in as he lifted her with a sensual squeeze,  wrapping her long legs tightly round the tapered cut of his waist as he stood.  

The surface of the desk was beneath her before she could work out which way was up and his touch smoothed down her legs to her knees before she could take a a breath in reprieve from kissing him. Her legs splitting either side of his broad hips and his erection, tucked to the side in his slacks and thick and heavy and hard, pushed against the inner seam of her thigh as he pulled that band from her hair. 

“I’m gonna make these gorgeous legs tremble for me,” he pledged against the her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to where her pulse throbbed for him as he a hand through the loose locks.  

And he began suckling at that sensitive spot just as a calloused hand slipped between her thighs.  

“Mmmmm,” Nesta moaned smugly, gripping at his biceps still sheathed in the sleeves of his shirt as Cassian’s thumb ran up the seam of her dripping cunt through her panties. The lace a flimsy veil between her swollen clit and his hot touch.  

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he moaned into her neck, her head rolling back as he snapped her panties and began stroking his fingers through her soft folds possessively. “Missed those little sounds and your mouth and this pretty neck and perfect pussy.” 

“Then cut out the all bark no bite bullshit and prove it,” she breathed.  

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured thickly, the pad of his thumb coming to her clit and she moaned as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly. Her nails pressing into his shoulders, a few through the hiss of his shirt but the others carving crescents into the bronze muscle and tattoos like the meat of an apple.   

His forefinger began teasing at her tight entrance and Nesta’s breath caught.  

“Tease me and you’ll fucking regret it,” she warned thickly, and he pushed the digit inside.  

The intrusion was far from the thick, eight inches she craved, but when he curled his finger against a sensitive, swollen spot deep inside her Nesta keened aloud.  

“You look so fucking good like this,” Cassian breathed, husky and bestial as he crooked his finger inside her over and over.  

“More,” she demanded. 

It probably wasn’t clear if she was demanding more dirty praise or physical attention but Cassian was a good boy and covered all his bases. A second finger pushing inside her that second.   

She gasped as the snug walls of her cunt stretched to accommodate the two of them as he waxed lyrical about how hard her moaning got him.  Their foreheads level and those deep brown eyes lathering her with his earnest attention.  

“You’re dripping down my knuckles like a fucking peach,” Cassian told her as he thrust inside her over and over, the only thing more obscene than her facial expression and the breathless sounds she was making being the quite, wet noises his fingers illicited.  

He hadn’t let up on her clit, and at the exact moment he decided to start curling those two fingers together, he increased the speed and pressure with which he rubbed at her most responsive spot with his thumb.  

“Cassian,” Nesta moaned, her fingers running up the nape of his neck and delving into his hair, still pulled into that bun.  

“That’s it, that’s so fucking hot, baby, I want your cum dripping down my wrist,” he growled softly. Her nails sliding down his scalp.  

“You’re so fucking needy,” she got out, which only served to utterly delight him. His thumb working at her from an oh so subtly more intense angle that had a familiar buzzing low inside her threatening to pluck her apart at the seams.  

“Oh my god fuck,” she moaned. “Uhhu, that’s it, just like that oh my god.” 

“You gonna cum, Nesta? You gonna cum on my desk- Jesus I’m gonna be thinking about you moaning, long legs spread for me while you moan so fucking dirty for my fingers every time I’m sat at this fucking desk now, you know that?”  

His words sent her over the edge.  

Silently she threw her head back as her orgasm licked up every frayed nerve in her body. It was hard. And Cassian kept on working those thick fingers inside her and over her sensitive clit throughout.  

Fucking her dirty and skilled. Prolonging her twitching and bone melting pleasure.  

Until she was snaking her hands from where they’d wound through his fastened hair, and pushing him off her at the shoulders.  Falling back on her forearms with a shaky exhale, thighs still trembling subtly.  

Cassian smirked. And brought his fingers to his mouth. Licking up the length of the calloused, sticky digits. Eyes on her’s from behind those obnoxiously sexy reading glasses she had half a mind to slap off his face.  

“You taste even better than I remember,” he purred.  

“Then get on your knees.” 

Her voice was shaky but he didn’t even throw her another of those antagonistic and gorgeous smirks, just sank down. All six foot whatever, two hundred and something ridiculous pounds of muscle. Knelt on the floor between her legs.  

“Is initiative encouraged of am I to be strictly obedient?” There was that smirk.  

“You can use your brain,” she permitted. Still out of it. But still dying for him to touch her again.  “If only because I need to be convinced you have one.”  

His chuckle felt like fucking heaven between her thighs. His stubbled jaw rubbing up against her aching cunt as he kissed her like he meant it. Open mouthed and his tongue then slipping out to lavish her dripping slit before he began playing with her clit with the tip.  

Nesta moaned, chewing down on her lip once she located the dignity to quieten down so she could keep it that way.  

Her previous orgasm should have taken the edge off, but it had only reminded her already whetted appetite what there was to gorge on. Leaving her pining for more and disastrously sensitive.  

“Mmmm,” Cassian moaned deeply- though honestly it was closer to a growl which was hot- and brought those large hands to her thighs. Holding her open for him stoking the bruise-blue flame that writhed in her core and allowing him better access to her pussy.  

“Oh god right there,” Nesta keened. His nose brushing up against her clit as he licked up her snug entrance, teasing his tongue inside.  

He threw her legs over his stacked shoulders and obeyed, working his tongue inside her with shameful enthusiasm only emphasised by the noises he was making. Seriously he was putting her to shame.  

In fact if she hadn’t been rapidly approaching another orgasm she might have thought he was have more fun than her.  

Hands no longer occupied with gripping her black-clad thighs they came to her hips and waist. Coaxing her to slant forward at an angle that granted him an even more advantageous angle from which to eat her out.  

She moaned, manicured nails almost clawing into his desk behind her. “Mhmm mhmm uh,” she gasped sharply at the sudden relocation of his tongue. Cassian capturing her clit in his mouth and sucking on the sensitive bud as he flicked his tongue up and down.  

“Fuck, yes yes yes yes,” she was utterly breathless. “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” she whined.  

Cassian fucking groaned and it was like he’d pulled at the knot in her stomach with his teeth.  

The muscles in her lower stomach twitching as she came, the cushiony walls of her cunt pulsing tight and the only thing grounding her to reality.  

Though she was just lucid enough to know Cassian was lapping up the nectar between her legs with audible and pleased snarls of pure, masculine satisfaction.  

Nesta couldn’t say how long it took her to stop seizing, just that she was completely drunk on pleasure by the time her body allowed her to at least try and think. She failed completely. Wasted on her orgasm, on Cassian.  

“Come ‘ere,” she said, breathless and doped up. Eyes barely fluttering open, heavy lidded and probably glazing over with unabashed appreciation as Cassian did as he was told. Rising to stand before her, thick arms winding round her waist snuggly and pulling her to him tight.  

His sheathed erection pushed to her sticky inner thigh and his powerful upper body, chiselled and broad and comforting, warm and hard and dusted with dark hair, pushed to her’s.  

His sharp jaw, like her thighs, was slightly sticky, and his mouth looked even more abused than it from the attention of her teeth. But the best part- better than his mid-sex blush or the way he was breathing all deep and powerful and hungry for her, were his glasses. They were slightly fogged up at the edges.  

“Apology accepted?” He asked huskily, like he was already sure of the answer. Like he didn’t care because no matter what she said he was going to have her screaming for him till they were both sick of each other.  

“Apology accepted,” Nesta confirmed. Splayed hands smoothing up his broad chest as she captured his lips in a wanton kiss.  

“That still leaves your punishment though,” she whispered.  

Cassian’s dark brows had barely risen before she’d pushed him back and he was falling into the chair again. Breathing deep and thrumming with a desire that destabilised him as he watched her slip a stiletto heel beneath her panties on the floor and flick them up into her hand. Prowling toward him and climbing into his lap. Hoping it wasn’t obvious that her legs felt like liquid.  

“Hold these,” she demanded, feeding the bundle of lace into his mouth, his groan muffled by the fabric and her hands making quick and embarrassingly eager work of removing his unfastened shirt. All but tearing it off his sculpted arms that must have been as thick as her thighs- his body was ridiculous.  

She griped his wrists before he could start doing something like feeling her up and brought them behind his head. Elbows out and biceps flexed, his hands meeting in the middle at the nape of his neck.  

Cassian kissed and nipped at her fingers as she plucked her panties from his mouth with one hand, holding his wrists with the other.  

He licked at his lips as though chasing the taste of her lingerie, eyes on her’s from behind his glasses.  

She wasn’t gentle knotting the lace round his wrists.  

“Oh,” he grinned, trying to move his arms.  

He couldn’t of course, the physics working against him and rendering it so his only way out would be pulling until the lace snapped for a second time this evening. Still, it was a fucking gorgeous sight watching him try. Biceps and broad chest flexing.  

Tied up and at her mercy she was dripping wet for him and slipped her tongue into his mouth as a little reward for how fucking hot he looked like this. Kissing him obscene and wet.  

“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.  

“Harder,” Cassian grinned. No doubt referencing her answer to the very same question the other night.  

Nesta bit his bottom lip, puncturing the bruised cushion subtly and she tasted blood on her teeth and his tongue.  

“Safe word,” she insisted once more against his lips, fingers winding through his hair with a drawn out and yearning pull.  

“Amren,” he groaned`. Then added, “don’t ask.” 

“Yeah we’re done talking,” she informed him dismissively. Unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops of his slacks with a swift tug.  

Cassian’s hips jumped beneath her and she unfastened the button slung low on his hips, pulling the zip of his fly down. Parted lips close to brushing.  

“Down boy,” she purred.  

“Bit late for that,” he breathed raggedly, jaw feathering as she slid her hand into his boxers.  

“God you’re adorable,” Nesta pouted, freeing his thick cock. Obnoxiously engorged and a dribble of pearlescence spilling from the uncut tip.  

“Now be a good boy and don’t you dare cum until I say,” she warned.  

And sank down on thick inch after inch of his hot, rigid shaft.  

Nesta couldn’t help the arch that slipped through her spine as he filled her up, the stretch so acute it had her eyes rolling back with a flutter of her thick lashes.  

“Oh my god,” she moaned breathlessly, hands splayed against his powerful chest. Thighs straddling his, her walls hugged him vice like and- Jesus, he rubbed up that deep spot inside her perfectly. 

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned beneath her. “You’re so… fucking tight.” 

Nesta rolled her head to the side in tandem with her hips, growing accustomed to the sheer size of him and eliciting a raw sound from the man before she removed his reading glasses. Fitting them over the bridge of her own petite nose.  

“No backseat driving now, sweetheart,” she purred a little shakily.  

She rose onto her knees only to sink back down again with a filthy twist of her hips. Repeating the motion again and again. Gliding up and down his cock with a tight and slippery friction that had her stomach flexing and his gaze heavy lidded. Encouraging, low noises escaping from deep in his chest that she wanted to bottle up and get drunk on.  

“Uhh,” she keened, dirty and blissful, hands on his stacked shoulders. “Uhhu.” 

“Oh fuck,” Cassian breathed huskily. “Mmhhm…that’s it…fucking ride me baby” 

Nesta felt a familiar heat fan at her core as she drank him up. Every perfect, delicious inch there for her to use.  

“Cassian,” she moaned. The sound tasting like sex in her mouth.  

She fluttered around him again on an upwards twist of her hips, his cock pushing in and out of her snug cherry with a delicious wet sound. Just audible above her filthy moans.   

Riding him was like sucking on a hard candy, that intense sweetness at the centre burning ever closer. And he kept running that damn mouth.  Gravelly and deep, lavishing her body with sickly sweet and dirty compliments.  

“Fuck that’s it gorgeous, just like that sweet thing fucking hell you’re fucking perfect.” 

Powerful and dripping with raw fucking desire his body rolled upwards into her, slick with sweat and chiselled sinew.  His cock burying deeper inside her. The sounds he was making just to top it off causing a tight fuzziness to tremble in her upper thighs.   

“Oh my god,” Nesta moaned, hands coming to his face and lips brushing his as so she moaned a hot, “I’m gonna cum,” into his mouth.  

Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.  

“Cassian,” she keened.  

She began bouncing deeper in his lap. Up and down up and down. His cock thrusting inside her hard and rubbing at her g spot just right while her clit grazed the coarse hair at his rugged hips. There was a bead of sweat gliding down the chiselled muscle that carved his broad torso, washboard abs flexing as he resisted release and Nesta felt the pressure between her thighs reach a fever pitch.  

Grunting he bucked violently beneath her once, twice, and she was undone.   

Nesta might have made a noise this time. Airy and hot and open mouthed against his neck as she buried her hands into his hair.  

He was so tense beneath her, like pure marble soaked in the heat of the sun. Trying not spill inside her as her walls flexed with every hot wave of pleasure.  

And once it passed his breathing was as ragged as her own.  

“You did so good,” Nesta whispered at last against his ear. Voice wrecked like she were experiencing a sugar crash. Nibbling at the lobe. Tasting salt on her lips and eyes fluttering shut at the heady scent of his aftershave.  

“Does that mean I get a reward?” he managed.  

“Something like that,” she hummed, repositioning herself so that her back was to his chest.  

“Nesta please. Just untie me, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered against her ear. Voice trembling like he’d shot up something good.  

Nesta only chuckled, head knocked back so she could hold his eyes as she rolled her hips. Teasing, tormenting.  

“The second you get your hands on these,” she brought her hands to her tits, giving them a soft squeeze and biting her lip, “you’ll be cumming and out of commission.”  

Cassian growled, watching her feel herself up as she rolled her hips in leisurely circles.  Sensual and dirty. The length of his hard shaft, thick and velvet smooth beneath her.  

“Fuck,” he moaned huskily. Nose buried at her throat and lips working against her pulse point with the assistance of his tongue and teeth. Just as slow and through as her hips. 

She gasped softly, grinding deeper.  

“You know how good I can make it for you,” he purred.  

“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.  

“Let me take care of you.” 

“Cassian.” 

“You make my name sound so sexy,” he grazed his stubbled jaw against the bruise he’d worked into her throat, the sensitive skin blushing warm at the contact as he moved his mouth to another location and started kissing and nibbling there.  “Untie me, baby, and I’ll give you everything you want.” 

Nesta smiled.  

“Or I could keep you tied up and just take it.” 

Cassian growled against her neck as she tilted her hips forward allowing his cock to spring up, and sank down on him again.  

She moaned, loud and keening. Hands snaking through his hair behind her as she rocked herself up and down slowly. There wasn’t a lot of friction, but for now it was enough just to revel in how good Cassian’s cock felt. That last orgasm having finally takes the edge off.  

“Fuck that’s it grind for me,” he moaned. His breath was hot against her neck and she could feel his heart beat. Feel every deep sound reverberate through his chest as she moved.   

His cock rubbed up against her g spot, colours and stars bleeding behind her eyes like fireworks.  

“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.  

It was so good.  

Hands fumbling distractedly she brought her fingers to untie him.  And he deemed it all the permission he needed. Tearing himself free with a growl.  Capturing her mouth in a slow and wanton kiss as those big hands came to rove her body, taking his time to pull her apart.  

His touch hot and calloused, Nesta moaned into his mouth as he ran up her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her tits. Massaging and glazing every inch of her with a rough heat that made her feel like she was going to explode. Her body a champagne flute dangerously close to shattering at the frequency of his hot groans and growls.  

“Right there, oh right fucking there baby,”  She moaned quietly against his lips, one of his hands rubbing her hip and guiding her motions while the other palmed at her breast.  

“Yeah? You like that?” He dipped his head to pull down the straps of her bra and dress down with his teeth until her cleavage spilt from the cups. Pebbled nipples tight and rosy in the dim light, peaking over the balcony of her bra.  

“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her throat, exploiting the sensitive spot as he made his way back up to her face and watched her plump tits sway. A hand running from her hip down her thigh and back up again to slip between her legs to stroke her clit. 

Nesta whined softly.  

“Cassian…more…” 

She kissed him sluggish and distracted. The two of them humming and moaning every so often until he started caressing her clit tighter and her sounds grew more frantic.  

“Fuck uhhu, uhhu just like that,” she panted quietly into his mouth. “Oh god uhh, uhhh more…more…more more Cassian fuck me.” 

She was on her feet before she could complain that his hands were no longer between her thighs. Pushed up against the edge of his desk, hands falling splayed against the surface to stop herself falling across the wood and legs split apart.   

“Oh!” 

“Good girl,” he grunted deeply. “Moan for me.” 

His calloused fingers came to her clit, coaxing her closer to the edge as the other gripped her hip.  

“That’s it, that’s my girl such a good girl baby.” 

Mouth caught open as though on a fish hook Nesta started seeing black splodges, the puddles flaring in her vision on every one of his thrusts. Deep and dirty and filling her till she was so impossibly full she spilt over.  

“Fuck fuck just like that oh my god you’re so fucking tight, cum on my cock, cum on my cock, uh, uh, uh.”  

Cassian finished inside her with a guttural sound as she came. Pumping her full one last time with a brutal snap of his hips.  

She was vaguely aware of his ragged breathing against her ear. Somewhat sure her forearms had fallen flat against his desk and her head hung forward. Hair falling over her face and back arched as her tight sex twitched and fluttered around him.  

Coming back to her senses took longer than she’d ever admit.  

“Is that cctv?” Nesta asked eventually, head tipped back and resting on his shoulder. Eyes flicking in gesture to the tiny little camera in the opposite corner of the ceiling.  

“Don’t worry,” Cassian breathed. “It’s switched off.” 

She turned her gaze to him.  

“Shame.” 

He let out an exhausted and reverent sound that might have been a laugh. And just as exhausted, once he’d pulled out, he fell back into the chair behind him. Trousers pulled back up but unbuttoned.  

Nesta followed in fatigued suit, working her dress back down over her hips and sinking to the floor, back against the desk. She probably shouldn’t have worn black… but the impending bill and judgement from her dry cleaner would be worth it.  

“Friday night. Pick me up at eight,” she breathed.  

Cassian grinned.  

“You like Italian?”  

Nesta rolled her eyes from behind the reading glasses askew on her nose, but nodded none the less. She was sort of screwed if she didn’t. Cassian’s adopted family were Italian on his father’s side. The cuisine was going to be pretty commonplace if they kept seeing each other she imagined.  

“What are you thinking about?” He hummed, watching her.  

Nesta smiled. Then crawled toward him across the floor. “How I still have that table cloth you call a dinner jacket at my place.”  

 “Was that plan b?” He laughed, snaking an arm round her waist as she climbed into his lap. “Hold my jacket hostage till I agreed to go out with you again?”  

“No,” she glared at him softly, nestling into the crease of his shoulder. “Though I had thought about wearing it tonight. Just your jacket and a pair of heels.” 

Cassian licked his lips as though contemplating the sight and liking what he imagined very much. “Next time,” he hummed distractedly. Less promise more pleading. “This was…,” his free hand roved down her side, the black fabric glued to her figure. “And these…,” his touch made her melt as he ran down her thigh and platform boot, her legs flicked over one another.  

“Lethal,” he whispered.  

Nesta scoffed. “You’re telling me. My toes are killing me.”  

Cassian hummed sympathetically, fitting a heel in his hand and guiding the shoe off her foot. Nesta groaned softly and he did the same with the other boot.  

“That bad?” He chuckled, starting to massage her.  

“Worth it though,” she sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder.  

  Cassian held the door open for Nesta to emerge out onto the street first. The cool night air whipping lazily at her hair. 

Their second date had been incredible.  

He’d taken her to Gnocco in the East Village. Proper Italian food, fairy lights, and intimate little corners perfect for flirting over too many glasses of wine and playing footsie beneath the table. Not to mention casual enough to see Nesta Archeron fitted out in heels, a snug black top, and a jaw dropping pair of jeans.  

Tactically quiet and effortlessly biting as ever, she’d been armed with passionate reviews on the podcasts she’d listened to or books she’d read that week. Asking him about his own week and listening thoughtfully in a way that had probably made him blush.  

If it hadn’t, then the way she’d licked at the creamy vanilla gelato on her dessert spoon definitely had.  

Cassian was far too tempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of her dark skinny jeans as he emerged after her, but he felt Nesta probably wasn’t one for PDA. Or more accurately, public groping. And he was determined to be on his best behaviour this evening. Determined to make her forget all about how shit-awfully he’d handled last Saturday.  

Not that he hadn’t given her a thorough apology.  

Consistency was key however, and there would be no lapse in his conduct any time soon when it came to Nesta. He’d lucked out so fucking hard in getting a second chance when he hadn’t even deserved the first with a woman like her. Clever and beautiful and passionate and god he had it bad.  

Had been thinking about her all week. Their date the only thing getting him through the late nights that were pretty much killing him at this point and the days spent arguing with Helion.  

Cassian had worked out who’d put a hit on his friend. And why.  

The contracts Helion was in the midst of signing were of a more personal nature that he’d originally let on. His will to be precise. In which it was detailed that upon his death, the pharmaceutical powerhouse that was Day Inc. should be handed over to Saoirse Vanserra.  

The married woman Helion had gone and fallen in love with twenty odd years ago. The mother of his child. 

Not that Helion had been aware of the that little detail until recently. Terminally ill, Saoirse hadn’t wanted the secret buried with her, and had gotten in touch with her old flame to tell him her youngest was his.  

Despite being well into his fifties, Helion behaved like a twenty-something at the best of times. But learning he had a son that actually was twenty-something had thrust him into a panicked play at accountability. Saoirse was going to die, and soon, but Helion would still have a piece of her, a piece of the both of them despite the estrangement that had haunted their relationship since the start. A piece he’d do every and anything in his power to do right by.  

Which meant Lucien would inherit his father’s company when the time came.  

But removing Saoirse from his will…it felt like signing her death warrant. At least that’s what he’d told Cassian. That it it felt like he was giving up on her.  

Cassian wished Helion could process everything in as much time as it took him. But time was a luxury not even the multi-millionaire could afford. Not with Saoirse’s eldest, Eris, trying to take him out before the will could be changed.  

As things stood, Eris was set to inherit anything of his mother’s- a compromise reached between Saoirse and her cunt of a husband who’d wanted everything in his name. The Vanserra court its own savage little patriarchy of snakes and vipers, meaning as long as Beron was around, what belonged to his sons, belonged to him.  

Still, Eris was the undisputed second in command and Beron wasn’t getting any younger. If he could take Helion out before any changes were made to the CEOs will, and if Saoirse’s doctors were to be believed, Day would practically be his by the end of the year.  

Maybe sooner. If Beron beat his cancer ridden wife to death upon learning she’d been left Helion Day’s company and why.   

He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.  

“Hey,” Nesta’s voice tugged at his attention as they turned off tenth. “Where’d you go?”  

Cassian snaked his arm around her small waist, pulling her against him. “Just thinking,” he said. And as hard as he tried to push those thoughts away, something of them lingered in his voice.  

She raised a neat eyebrow. That little beauty spot above the arch lifting with it and the one beneath the corner of her plump bottom lip quirking just barely.  

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. Tucking her tighter to his side as he looked down at her. “That’s because the only thing I ever think about is you. And when I’m with you, I don’t have to do that, do I?” 

Her blush was so utterly adorable it made him want to kiss her senseless.  

“How do you do that?” Those eyes like the smoke of ice narrowed in sincere curiosity. It was a little terrifying.  Which off course only made him like her more.  

“What? Make you blush like a-” 

“No,” she interrupted him with an embarrassed and chiding laugh, pushing at his chest slightly. “Say things, just say them-  like the only thing that matters is that you mean them?” 

Cassian smiled. “Not everything has to be done strategically, Nesta.”  

“Says the military man.” 

“And wouldn’t you say that makes me qualified to- okay fine, roll your eyes at me. Jokes on you because it’s actually very sexy when you do that so.” 

Nesta laughed, her head falling to rest below his chest as they walked.  

“Fortunate you say something to make me roll my eyes every five seconds then,” she hummed.  

“And that I know just how to make those eyes roll back,” he purred lowly in response with a roguish grin, rubbing his thumb against where her coat lay over her stomach.  

“Oh and you’re telling me this whole conversation wasn’t strategically constructed so you could use that line?” Nesta looked up at him.  

“Sweetheart, when are you going to accept that I’m just incredibly smooth?” He grinned. “Besides, that wasn’t a line.”  

“That was so a line!”  

“You’d know if I was giving you a line.” 

“Go on then. Give me your best line,” she challenged. Stopping dead and turning on him with her arms folded. Cassian didn’t let his arm slip from around her waist though. Kept it right where it was as he brought his free hand to tuck a lock of chocolatey hair behind her ear. Inspiration striking him.  

“Are you a box of chocolates?” he asked, gravelly and suggestive.  “Because I’d love to take your top off.”  

Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.  

“That’s awful!” She put her hands firm against his chest. “How did you ever get laid before I took pity on you?”  

“Um I’m gorgeous and rich,” he reminded her, both arms now caging her in.  

“What a coincidence,” Nesta purred, their noses tucked against one another just barely thanks to his date’s shoes. No doubt expensive as they were tall.  

“No coincidences here, sweetheart. This is all fate.” 

“I’m deliberately not rolling my eyes just to spite you for saying something so cliché and dumb,” she murmured.  

“Fine then. Fate and your meddling sister,” he admitted.  

“Let’s not talk about my little sister right now,” Nesta’s hands snaked up to toy with the lapels of his coat.  

“What would you rather we talk about?”  

“I don’t want to talk at all,” she whispered. And pulled him down lazily to meet her mouth.  

Cassian moulded his lips to the perfect pressure of her own. Hard and soft, her mouth like velvet and her body pressing into his tight and loose in all the right places.  

Kissing Nesta was like brushing you fingers against the glacial softness of snow like flakes of glass. Irresistible and inevitable. Burning so soft at first before the sensation grew unbearably tender and acute.  It reminded you that you were alive.  

The movements of their mouths grew hotter, no less lethargic, but simply heavier. Like they had all the time in the world and planned to exploit every second.  

So much for not into PDA, Cassian thought, as she coaxed his mouth open further with her tongue, his own slowly swiping to meet it. And he did slip his hand into her back pocket then, giving her a fond and pining squeeze which pulled her tighter into him.  

The pads of her thumbs brushed at either side of his jaw as she arched a little, those perfect tits pushed against his upper body and he dug his fingers a little more possessively into the fabric of her coat. Bunching at her waist beneath his calloused touch.  

Nesta sighed sweetly into him-  

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassian swore.  Tame Impala playing from his pocket.  

“Looks like I’m not the only one who likes your attention,” Nesta laughed quietly, hands smoothing back to her sides politely. The little menace. Her effortless composure all the more devastating with her mouth kissed cherry-red and pupils blown wide as saucers.  

He fished out his phone, and declined the call.  

“Well you’re the only one getting it.” 

She rose her brows as though she were impressed, winding her arms back around his neck.  

“For a man who hates games you have game, Velaris.” 

“Would you feel less wooed if I told it you was just Rhysand?” He admitted. Rejecting his busybody brother’s phone call a far less bold gesture than if it had been work.  

Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.  

“That makes it even better,” she kissed him again.  

Cassian kissed her back through his laugh, dipping her back slightly for a more indulgent angle, her arms lacing tighter around him to hold herself up. Like he’d let her fall.  

Nesta was the one laughing now and it tasted like gelato and champagne and sunrises. He nipped at her lip as he pulled her back up with him snuggly, and she brought her hand to cup the side of his face, the other at his tapered waist.  

“I should get going,” she hummed distractedly,  hand gliding up his body like she didn’t even realise.  

Her tongue caressed his slowly before he was muttering against her, “probably”, chasing the plush heat of her mouth.  

They didn’t stop. Not even as Nesta was murmuring a disjointed, “heighten the…suspense…keep you…wanting and all that.” 

“I’m already losing interest,” he purred gruffly, their jaws knocking intimately as the kiss became hotter and fitful, short breaths and hungry mouths. Her nails scraping softly up the nape of his neck and through his hair.  

“And you’re looking for it in my back pocket, is that it?” She whispered, and Cassian gave her ass a firm squeeze as either confirmation or reprimand.  

She bit his bottom lip, the nip of her pearly teeth giving way to a sensual sort of chewing that made his eyes roll back behind closed lids and his large hands wound through her hair to guid her head back so he could take charge. Kissing her slow once again but dirtier, thorough and wanton and Nesta keened almost silently.  

“Found it,” Cassian said thickly into her mouth.  

“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.  

“Yes please.” 

Nesta slid her hand between them. Fingers brushing his belt, then lower- 

Cassian couldn’t tell if he was relieved or devastated when she slipped her way inside his pocket and plucked free his phone.  

She withdrew just barely from the kiss, switched it on and turned the screen to him. The device unlocked as both his hands tucked into her pockets and her manicured thumbs were tapping away.  

Cassian brushed at the curved beam of her high cheekbone with his nose, trying to see what she was up to.  

“What are you doing?”  

“Callander says you’re free Friday. Or it did.  Now it says you have a date.” She nestled herself back into him tightly, tucking the device back into his pocket, exploiting that teasing proximity to something else entirely and driving him crazy as she grazed his mouth with her own.  

“Congratulations.” 

Cassian grinned.  

“Tha- wait just to be clear the date is with you, right?”  

 “Yes, Cassian, the date is with me,” she chuckled. “And I can’t wait,” her humming melted to something wordless and heavy as he kissed her again.  

Slow and explicit he stroked his tongue inside and he swore he felt the flutter of her lashes against his cheek.  

“Cassian,” she breathed almost silently and it burnt his lungs like freezing air.  

“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.  

“May I take you home,” Nesta corrected between the sinful caress of their lips.  

“Please do.” 

She was kissing the smirk off his face like she could taste how snug he was and wanted a piece of it for herself. Like she were working at a marshmallow or strawberry lathered with thick chocolate from a hot fountain of the stuff.  

“Maybe you are smooth,” she whispered and it only inflated Cassian’s self satisfaction. “But we both know I like it rough.” Ouch. “Just like we both know you’re way too exhausted to have your way with me.” 

He pulled back abruptly.  

But his mouth had barely opened to argue when she gave him a definitive “don’t”. It was little bit arousing. “You said yourself how late you’ve been working. Have you slept at all this week?” 

For all her icy glares and hellish attitude, at her core, Nesta was kind. She cared despite her pretences to the contrary and it meant she noticed things. Like how despite his lively grins, Cassian was out for the fucking count.  

“That’s what I thought. You can screw me when I know you won’t pass out before making it to third base.” 

“The only one who’d be passing out is you once I’m through fu-” 

“Save that thought for a night you have the energy to see it through,” she said.  

“But I-” 

A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.  

He growled a bitter but accepting sound. She was right, of course she was right, because she was Nesta and a Nesta was always right.  

“Friday,” he promised. “I’m gonna cook for you, something fucking romantic.” 

“More romantic than that sentence?”  

“Look I may not be Keats but I know my way round a stove, so hold all sarcastic comments until I’ve fed you.” 

“I’ll try, but I know for a fact you’re going to make that very hard.” 

“How have you already failed?” 

“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.  

“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.” 

“So you’ve said,” she blushed.  

“And I’ll keep saying it if every time I do you blush like that.” 

“Like I’m embarrassed for you?” she countered with an arched brow and a cruel twitch at the corner of her mouth.  

“You’re so mean,” he grinned.  

They made their way to the curb and hailed down a car on twelf. 

“Want me to ride with you back to your apartment?” he said, opening the back door of a yellow cab that had pulled up for her.  

“That’s sweet, but trust me, I can take care of myself,” she promised.   

“Text me when you get home safe and sound just to spite me then,” he said from the opposite side of the door.  

“I will. But you better not be awake to read it,” She gave him a lingering kiss before gracefully tucking herself inside.  

“Night, gorgeous,” he winked, and shut the door.  

Her ride had just turned onto fourteenth when Cassian decided against hailing his own despite the cold. It was only fifteen or so minutes on foot, and he could probably do with cooling down.  

Though even if he had to trek through tundra to get home he suspected he’d still find himself burning up under a cold shower in an attempt not to jack off to the thought of Nesta like a fourteen year old.  

Stuffing his already slightly numb hands into his pockets he began walking, his fingers brushing against his phone. He should probably call Rhys back.  

The phone rang for a moment before his brother picked up.  

“Did you decline my call?” 

“Yup.” 

“Bastard.” 

“I’m sure Feyre will kiss your bruised ego better,” Cassian grinned as he walked. “Along with something else so long as she doesn’t hear you’ve been calling me names,” he added slyly.  

“Are you threatening to tell on me to my wife?” Rhysand asked, a little wound up by the allusion to Feyre’s kissing certain places even if he hid it behind an unimpressed drawl.  

“Are you pretending the thought doesn’t have you quaking in your givenchy loafers?”  

“On the topic of not upsetting Feyre, she’s demanding a family dinner.” 

He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.  

“That why you’re calling?” 

“Partly,” Rhys said. “Work’s been…She wants to be around family right now,” he said with an all too familiar casualness. “You free?” 

“For Feyre?” Cassian said without hesitation.  “Yeah, I’m free.” 

He would just have to pull an all nighter on the Monday. 

“Thank you. And also fuck you for implying if it was for me you wouldn’t be,” his brother said.  

“Well you called me just as Nesta was about to slip her tongue down my throat so-” 

“Nesta?” Rhys interrupted. “I thought that was over?” 

Shit.  

In all the carnage that had been the last week he hadn’t bothered letting his family know he and Nesta were back on. The woman was a touchy subject and he hadn’t had the energy or balls to get into it.  

While Rhys had been able to excuse Elain’s inactivity when the Archerons had been at their financial lowest, he’d never managed to extend that same courtesy to Nesta. Maybe it was because the first time they’d met she’d called him a cradle snatching whore. Regardless, Rhysand pretty much hated the woman’s guts, meanwhile his wife was desperately trying to lure her into the inner circle of the Velaris family.  

Cassian may have been able to bench a number higher than his IQ but he wasn’t dumb. He’d clocked on to the fact his sister-in-law was using him as Nesta bait.  In all honesty he was loving it. Nothing made him happier than helping out his family, and if that meant taking out an intelligent, passionate, stunning young woman, then really it was a double-win.  

Taking a second to grind his jaw softly he was reminded to tread carefully. Not something he generally excelled at, but for the sake of his brother he could try.  

“I know you’re not her biggest fan,” he said. “But Feyre forgave her years ago for bailing-” 

“Well Feyre’s a better person than I am.” 

“I’ll say. She set me up with a smoking hot model, meanwhile you’re trynna cock block me,” he tried.  

“You can put your dick wherever you want, doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“I guess not,” he ground out. Itching to hit something at the implication Nesta was just “somewhere to put his dick”.  

“Cassian if you want to date a biblical plague in human form knock yourself out, seriously, god knows Feyre will be thrilled. And Azriel, your moping-” 

“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.  

“Fine, your stropping-” 

“Fuck off.” 

Rhys’ laugh was about smug as the bastard’s crooning voice.  

“Mor’s gonna kill you by the way. You put a two grand dent in her wine collection over a woman you took back the next week.” 

Cassian groaned, wiping a hand over his face. The only thing worse than the hangover he’d had Monday morning would be Morrigan’s laying into him on this.  

“Don’t you dare tell her,” he warned.  

“Fine but you’ll have to do it before next Sunday, you’re bringing Nesta.” 

“Hang on a minute-” 

“Feyre wants a family dinner and if you and Nesta are back on that means she’s coming,” Rhys said.  

“Boy you are asking a lot of me here,” Cassian sighed dramatically. “I mean I can think of a few ways to persuade her but most of them are illegal in a lot of countries,” he grinned.  

“I don’t care if you have to roofie her and strap her to the hood of your car, just make sure she’s there.” 

“Alright, alright Don.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Rhys growled irritably to Cassian’s delight.  

“What else were you calling about then?” He smirked. “You said dinner was only part of it.” 

“I wanted to ask how things were going with Helion,” his brother said. “Any update?” 

Cassian sighed heavily.  

“This a secure line?” 

“Always”. 

“The hit’s Eris,” he said. “Apparently Saoirse does pretty well for herself if Helion kicks it and it’s looking like she won’t last the year. When she goes Eris takes the lot so he’s trying to take Helion out before he can change his will.” 

“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.  

“I’m not done. Guess who Helion might be transferring that inheritance to?” 

“Is Azriel going to finally have the funds to build that sex dungeon?”  

“Not quite,” Cassian said. “The money’s going to Lucien.” 

“Lucien?” 

“Turns out the kid’s his.” 

“Fucking hell.” 

“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.” 

Rhys was silent on the other end for a moment as he evidently thought through matter.   

“You said might, is he waiting on a paternity test or something?” 

Cassian winced. “No. No he’s dragging his feet about changing the will altogether.” 

“Why the fuck is he doing that there’s a bullet with his name on it!” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Cassian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m the one whose gonna have to jump in front of that bullet if he doesn’t get his ass in gear. But he…he’s losing the love of his life, Rhys. I’m trynna cut him a little slack-” 

“Slack Eris is going to have someone strangle him with.” 

“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.  

Rhys went silent again.  

“We could always just kill Eris.” 

Cassian would have laughed at the unrestrained glee in his brother’s voice if the suggestion hadn’t been so tempting.  

“No you can’t,” he reminded him, ascending the steps to his front door.  

“Sorry, sorry, you probably want plausible deniability and all that- which is a shitty reason to leave a family business-” 

“What are you talking about? I left because I don’t like any of you.” 

“Dick.” 

“See it’s that kind of thing that made for a hostile work environment I really couldn’t foresee a future working under,” he grinned, unlocking the door.  

“You taught me words far more creative than that growing up, monte de merda-” 

“Desenmerda-te, and don’t cuss at me in Portuguese carcamano.” 

“I’m fucking Persian!” 

“Tell that to your pale ass like unbaked garlic bread, minchia,” Cassian retorted in Italian as he tossed his keys onto the skirting board and shrugged off his coat.  

“A fanabla!”  

“Love you too, tell Feyre I said hi.” 

“See you and Nesta on Sunday, I’ll text you timings.” 

“No shop talk okay, she still doesn’t know anything about-” 

“I know, I know, it’s not me you have to worry about. Feyre keeps asking me to hire her.” 

“As what? Has Cosa Nostra began dabbling in the modelling industry under your direction, baby brother?” 

“If I said yes would you come back to us?” 

“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.” 

“Jesus, it’s been less than a month.” 

“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.” 

“Nesta’s no Feyre.” 

Yeah, Nesta has enough wit about her to know you can’t go round offering Mafia jobs like candy, he thought to himself.  

“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.” 

“See you then.” 

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[papers4me]

Fruits Basket,Se03, Ep 9 (part 1)

“ppl & feelings can’t be bound down”~

What an ep for my girl tohru! She completed her growth thanks to kyo’s rejection. really, It was so hard, cruel, understandable but above all so necessary for her to reach a logical realistic conclusion that “I can love/want things from the bottom of my heart, but at the end I can’t force or bound them to me, I won’t regret loving/wanting them, but I’ll move forward regardless, no more standing still”.

-The fear of being alone:

Aren’t we all? We’re scared to face the word after breaking bonds, changing, not getting what we want, having to start over. Such feelings run deeper into us all. Both tohru & akito were scared to face the word without the old comfortable bond that they got used to:

Tohru realized today, that she cant keep talking to a cold photo, can’t live according to her mom’s expectations, to fulfill her mom’s wishes, can’t narrate her daily life to her mom & fill her life with other ppl’s own issues to distract her self from facing her own loneliness & from looking deeper into what should she do with her life. As she fell in love with kyo, tohru started talking to him! forgetting to inform her mom abt her life’s details, thinking abt what will she do “after graduation?”. As kyo asked in se02, ep2. Graduating highschool is ur mom’s wish, What would u wanna do after?” Tohru didnt have a response of “an after”cuz her mom wasnt there to tell her! Tohru has to choose “the after” herself!!!! “The after” was being with kyo & starting life together! figuring what to do next together! She no longer alone! she found her most precious person!

Except: he cant be with her. Again tohru is scared. What to do now! she wanted a bond but is forced to leave it. Loving kyo was stage 1 to be free from her grief. Moving forward without kyo is stage 2 to learn not to repeat the painful journey again! She didnt let go of her mom & kyo easily. It was hard, scary but she must do it. You must respect their wishes & move on. As scared as she is, there will be sadness & happiness ahead.

Akito realized she cant keep an empty box, cant keep fulfilling her dad’s wishes to “be loved & special” cant bound the zodiacs to her for good. They may love her or not, it doesn't matter, if they wish to leave for whatever reason, she cant force them to stay.

Except now that the zodiacs are leaving, what does she have to live for? who will be with her? she isnt good with strangers? she never met anyone who wasnt forced to obey her & be grateful for her. Strangers cant be forced to love her! what will she do now? stretch you hand for a greeting. Tohru told her, make a friend, they might refuse you, but hey might accept u too, I’ll make it easy, Hi, I;m tohru, whats ur name?

The power of true love: ( reality vs fiction)

In fairy tales, the princess fix the prince. the prince save the princess. The prince kiss the princess, she wakes up & they be happy ever after. Except real life has no prince & princess, You cant always be saved, you cant always save others, pure intense true love cant always be the answer!

Yuki was first when tohru needed physical saving. he saved her twice! Yuki’s nickname in school ”the prince”. Yuki is always cool, thoughtful & kind. Yuki always knew what to say & do! he deserves tohru’s romantic love more than kyo, right? But “ppl & feelings can’t be bound down”~ . Yuki didn't feel this way towards tohru, granted no one (excepts kakeru) knows the reason why he loves her fondly (she’s his mom figure). The official” prince isnt the one for her. Real life isn’t a fairy tale. Yuki has someone who sees he isn’t cool, perfect or a prince “ granted no one knows abt machi, yet! ) XD

In tohru monologue: she didnt think abt saving, that's not why she loves kyo. She stated normal, silly, mundane things! a shy smile, awkward kindness & the likes. Stuff ppl love abt each other in real life. You dont say, I love my husband cuz he saved me from a burning building in the 7th floor! lol. But fiction is so full of this. Princes saving princesses.

Tohru didnt fix kyo, too! as much as her love helped him greatly to find hope, the best writing choice is that tohru’s love also brought despair to kyo! To him, she’s the symbol of hope, peace & comfort! she’s also, the symbol of despair, torment & unease! EPIC! The kyo who’s stuck in the past cant be with her, the kyo who will move beyond trauma, abuse & broken soul will be with her. The duality is all on kyo’s shoulder: what will he choose? Can he choose in his state now?

In fairy tales the princess wakes up after the kiss. In real life, we don't. Tohru didn’t. Regardless if she fainted during or after the kiss. The kiss fixed nothing. Kyo’s despair in seeing near-dead tohru in a not-so-subtle mimic to his nightmare, has manifested itself into the sweetest kiss upon seeing her conscious & talking. Kyo isnt good with words, his actions are his words. When he’s scared, sad, in trauma: running away. when he’s  fond of her, grateful for her existence: head knock, head pats, hand holding & a kiss. Still the kiss fixed nothing. Kyo is still traumatized more than ever now. Tohru still feels rejected “even if I’m not with you, plz live”.

Talking fixes everything. It didn’t here, kyo & tohru talked & showed their most vulnerable side to the other, but still didn’t meet half ways, regardless of all the love. That’s cuz they keep missing each other’s best timing. Kyo is stuck in the past while tohru has moved forward. even if in her mind she’s the one who stood & he moved. this shows they aren’t on the same wave yet. Before meeting each other again, kyo must learn from his mistake like tohru did. He must face his ultimate demon: his dad. The one who created the current broken kyo.

Rebelling against parents: ( sign of growth & freedom of choice):

Rebelling against parents  is a sign of a desire to choose one’s path, decide one’s own future. Away to express an oppressed desire.

Yuki rebelled against his mom in se02. he told her I’m not going to the college you chose. I’ll chose my path. I’m not staying away from Ayame. My bro is good in my book. I chose who I want to be with. He told her what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.

Tohru rebelled against her mom today. told her I’m not wasting myself doing only what you I think you’ll approve off. You might bot forhet kyo, thats ur choice, But I DO. I love him even if you might not approve of him, Even if he rejected me, my feelings wont change, but I’ll move forward from the grief & pain. mother. She told her what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.

Kyo WILL rebelled against his disgusting dad. He MUST. It is his turn now. He’ll tell him I’m not wasting myself being locked in a cage. I have a future! I’m not a monster. I am LOVED! I might not 100% sure why I’m loved, but the truth cant be hidden. I have ppl who love me! cheer for me! I want to live! enough of death! mom & kyoko died, tohru nearly did, but I’m not gonna die! I’m not killing ME! I’‘ll do what MOM didnt do! I’ll do what YOU couldn't do! I’ll live! He’ll tell him what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.  I cant wait! I’m in tears just thinking abt it! Kyo was punished enough! time for happiness!

Side Notes:

While I’m impressed with tohru’s growth, as they did her justice in this ep, this doesn’t erase that the buildup for tohru’s own journey & trauma was mediocre. There is a reason ppl commented ” omg tohru, you can love your mom AND kyo!. ” Grief is illogical, long process & it sucks that we weren’t allowed to experience tohru’s grief & her mom’s role in tohru’s abandonment issues. Huge lost opportunity that a good conclusion ep cant erase! but like tohru, I’m moving on ~

The path of growth for kyo will start by rejecting the demon: his dad. No. other. option. Hold abusers accountable for their crimes. Stop their madness. Tell them off.

We know kyo is baka! that’s his trade mark, the endearing baka! a lot of characters in the show think so! I love it, but I’m craving baka-yuki! XD! really, yuki is cool, level-headed & smart, but let him be baka too! this only shows up in tiny microscopic doses, but they’re my fave doses of yuki! it humanizes the “perfect prince”, the “gifted high status rat”! Thus him not seeing kyo running the other side, is my fave look on him! XD.

I appreciate that kyo & yuki put their differences aside when they’re with tohru. You cant tell yuki is hella pissed off with kyo, but he restrained himself. His gaze while full of anger is also full of sympathy as he heard/saw kyo’s panic upon the thought of loosing tohru. He understand they both only mean the best for each other, but also tried they both keep missing each other & not meeting half way! Also, yuki being the only one in the hospital is realistic & endearing. No need for them all to be there & yuki lives with her & is so close to her.

kyo not being the hospital is fantastic! thank you writer-San! why would kyo go to the hospital after thinking his nightmare came true? kyoko /his mom warned him, you’ll hurt another person.. he did.. he didn't cause her fall... but caused her sadness & hurt.

Momiji’s reprimanding gaze is my fave look on him! Also, the best response to what akito did. Akito isnt used to such judgemental gaze. Kureno grabbed her cheeks, gently told her you shouldn't do that, the old maid told her you are right, Dr. Hatori erased her mistakes from ppl heads & bodies, shigure being either cold or kissing her ass, coxing her to yet torment another zodiac in his grand scheme to break the curse as happened in the beach arc.

You bet hana & arisa will be there next ep! Arisa will meet kureno & akito for sure. To path the way for their romance as seen in the ED.

Shigure’s “remorse” is a whole can of worms. Playing with ppl’s hearts & feelings to gain someone’s affection is no laughing matter. Each time blood is shed, he contributed somehow. he didnt force anyone to hurt the other, but he played with matches & never got hurt.

Shigure must be glad akito stabbed kureno. Not cuz he’s sadistic or bad person. He isn’t, but cuz akito stabbing kureno is akito cutting her bond with him. Go shigure, your girl removed her lover with blood. Kureno is punished for sleeping with ur girl by blood! so, when is ur punishment for sleeping with ur lover’s mom? none? ok.

The animation is good. They didnt villinize akito by drawing extra manic features like se02. Kyo’s broken & tormented face once again epicly drawn. However, akito’s slaps on tohru’s face were comedic, unnecessary & such bad taste! Stop using violence for extra drama, furuba!

Also, tohru, I love you, I understand you are broken but charging at a person, who has a history of violence & physical abuse & holding a knife, is stupid. No other description. I’m glad she didnt accidentally kill you in her initial rage.

Everything akito’s redemption, kureno & shigure are part 2 in my review.

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #sick paper #final season #part 1

[sugathot]

praise.

sugawara koushi x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: NSFW, mentions of body issues and self-deprecation 

“So, baby… mind repeating what you were whispering to the mirror earlier?”

You can barely get any words out with how sloppy your mouth looks, bumbling little moans falling from your lips and try as you might you just can’t seem to work past them— a little sliver of drool trailing down your chin.

Sugawara quite likes seeing you like this, eyes hazy and at a loss for words as his fingers curl and press up into wet gummy walls. There’s a certain needy glaze in your look as you stare him down— trying to communicate something, nodding your head in hopes that’ll take; it’s clear it’s hard to form words right now, his pretty little girlfriend much too finger-hungry to even think about letting an answer slip past your lips. 

Sugawara thinks you should know better though and try a little harder, he’s been very clear on this kind of thing before.

“Baby,” your head throws back when a second finger slips over your petaled entrance, pushing into your pulsing cunt and spreading the walls apart in a slowwww stretch. “You gotta use your words— c’mon, speak up for me pretty girl. Tell me what you were saying earlier, in the mirror.” Fingers snap back together, curving upwards and right into your spongy g-spot— rubbing his finger pads into the soft part of your walls until wet clicking noises fill the room and your back is arching. “Something about being ugly, hm? Remind me baby, c’mon.”

He’s working away at your sopping cunt as little cries and sniffles make Sugawara grin against the marked skin of your neck his lips marred and maimed; fingernails are digging into his shoulder but he can barely feel it, much too focused on the gasps leaving your lips as you mumble away and he nods in encouragement. 

“I… I said I look really ugly today…”

The man only nods again, eyebrows raising in expectation— fingers shucking in and out of your pulping little pussy, dragging against puffy walls as Sugawara pulls out and slamming back into your sweet spot with a sickly sweet grin. “Go on, sweetheart— you’re doing so well.”

It’s a favorite game of his— lesson, actually, raw desire building up in the pit of his gut the longer his fingers fuck up into you, ignoring his cock straining hard against slacks. He’s always been rather big on positive thinking, finding ways to deal with the more ugly emotions that come along with growing up and life. It’s what makes Sugawara a good teacher, friend or family member— he takes the most pride of it in the relationship field, especially when his efforts have you slowly realizing how silly your thoughts had been when he’s so willing to spread you open like this.

He had been a little nervous to combat your more destructive thoughts with a more sexual approach at first, keeping his sweet self during and trying to build you back up with his words alone. It worked, at times, until it didn’t and it was everything you heard before; that meant a switch up in technique.

You responded to this much better anyways.

“A-and that I hate how I look— o-oh~!” The sudden pressure against your clit must be surprising, as your head flops to the side with a moan when Sugawara begins circling the little bud around. The man knows he’s making it hard for you to speak, of course he knows— there's a wild grin spreading on his face that’d look quite pretty if he wasn’t knuckle deep in your sopping cunt and making you keen with every flick of his fingers. Seeing you reduced to mumbles and moans and trying so so hard to speak in hopes of pleasing him is a pretty sight, but Sugawara can’t be so mean forever— he’s still teaching you a lesson, and you haven’t quite passed yet.

“And what is it today, hm? Thighs, stomach, face… what were you being so mean to today?” His head tilts, gazing down with heated eyes at the way your pussy sucks in his fingers with each pump, breath hitching in a way throws off his dominant groove. Even when he’s taking care of you, helping you see what he sees with a little more rewarding of a coercion, Sugawara still is a man in love and weak for your body.

Your walls tighten and he about curses, fingertips tapping into the spongy muscle of your g-spot with every complaint and self-criticizing insecurity falls from your lips. He broke you easy this time, almost like this was exactly what you wanted when Sugawara found you in tears and hating on your body earlier. Usually it takes a little longer to coax the words out from your mouth, embarrassment typically strong enough to zip your lips up but you’re being a good girl today, letting him work it out of you nice and easy as greedy walls flutter around his fingers.

“You’re so pretty baby,” he coos, placing a gentle kiss against your trembling lips— tired but blissful under his sweet praise and skilled fingers. Hands come up to cup his cheeks, Sugawara turning to kiss your palms as chocolate eyes meet hazy (e/c). “You’re my pretty girl, right?”

You yelp when he nips you for nodding, pressing firmly into your sweet spot and stilling. “Say it.” When you pause, his eyes narrow. “Or you won’t cum.”

That seems to get you, eyes wide in panic and fear at his sudden punishing demeanor. His fingers leave your core with a slick pop that goes right to his dick, the whine that falls from your lips is needy and almost painful and Sugawara knows he has you wrapped right around his fingers when he starts sliding down your body. “Come on, use your words.”

“I-I’m your pretty girl, Koushi!”

“There we go, not so hard, right?” His grin is nothing but sweet as Sugawara presses your legs apart and into the mattress— your drooling pussy in perfect bare sight that holding back a groan would hurt. You’re so wet and needy— petaled entrance slicked up by your juices. When Sugawara comes to settle down in between your thighs, his thumbs come to spread you open and he can see pink insides fluttering around nothing. Fuck that’s hot.

“You’re so pretty sweetheart, I just don’t know why you’re so mean to yourself— especially when I got you laid under me like this. You know what that does to me?” A long lick from your dripping slit and up to the pulsing little bud has your body jolting, eyes on him as Sugawara suckles your clit in his mouth with a low groan. You’re close, he can tell by the way your legs close around his head as he pops off your pussy to grin up at you. “Wanna cum, baby?”

The moan that falls from your lips and the way your core presses back into his face with a cant of your hips is answer enough— diving back into your needy cunt and worming his hot tongue between your folds. He’s done teasing for now, satisfied with your words and easy admission of what he deems is true; Sugawara is solely focused on getting you to release right into his mouth over and over again.

Then, he’ll take his time fucking some love into your pretty self.

#sugawara smut #sugawara koushi smut #sugawara x reader smut #sugawara koushi x reader #haikyuu smut

[eclecticmiasma]

Cold Blood (Bucciarati x Reader)

FS, as I deem you, you are always welcome in my inbox you nutball 😘 Incoming forced Bucciarati x Reader angst.

In the end, even the righteous are nothing more than animals. 

NSFW

[Warnings: rape, dead dove do not eat]

Art credit: MIE. on pixiv

When you and Bruno had entered the abandoned hangar, it seemed normal enough. A bit ominous in how massive and empty it was, an impression not helped by the lack of lighting, but nothing out of the ordinary. All you wanted to do was get in, gather some intel, and leave.

That’s when you spotted Diavolo’s henchmen.

“You’ve built up quite a reputation for yourself, Bucciarati. Many loyal citizens even refer to you as the Santo di Napoli…How quaint.”

Bruno’s mind reeled for ways to wipe the shit-eating grin off of the green-lipped doctor that loomed atop some scaffolding near forty feet above you. Even the gremlin that perched next to him on all fours seemed to be mocking in his gaze. Fear etched its way into your features, as neither of your stands were equipped to reach them. Until they made a move, you were caught like mice in a trap.

“My orders were to execute you both, but there’s a small experiment I’ve been dying to try for decades. The world lacks such passionate and honorable men as yourself, and I fear that if I simply snuff out your life now, I might never get the chance to see if my theory holds true.”

Your capo stood in front of you protectively, fingers itching, a cold and calculated look on his features. He was no doubt regretful that he had asked you and not one of his other underlings to help him with this task. His number one goal was to protect the ones he loved, and his love for you ran much deeper than you even realized.

“You see, I have a theory that any man on the planet can be brought to their base instincts with nothing more than a chemical. Humans love to drone on about how civilized and evolved we are. We tout our self-control as though we’re anything more than sentient beasts…The problem has been finding a man virtuous enough to be worth experimenting on. You should be honored that I’ve chosen you, Bucciarati.”

Cioccolata gave Secco a tap on the head and gestured for him to fish something out of his pockets. The boy did so gratefully, worming his fingers through the taller man’s pants until he found what he was looking for. His shoddily held together mask slipped down and revealed a beaming grin as he held up a small pistol for the doctor to see.

“Perfect! Always a reliable boy,” Cioccolata praised, flicking a white cube into his pet’s waiting mouth. He turned his attention back to his anxious captives, “If the experiment goes well, I’ll gladly let the two of you live. Though, I don’t know if you’ll want to.”

It happened in a millisecond. He pointed the pistol straight at Bruno and pulled the trigger once. Something much thinner than a bullet shot right through Bruno’s black and white suit into his bicep. You rushed forward to help him as he cried out in pain, immediately ripping the foreign object out of his arm and throwing it to the floor like it was made of fire. It appeared to be some kind of small, pink dart.

“Stay back!” Bruno shouted at you, feeling warmth spread from the sight of injection throughout his upper body. Whatever was in the dart worked immediately, and as you made eye contact you watched his frantic pupils dilate to the point that you could no longer see a hint of his bright blue irises. Panic flooded through you as you watched him struggle, fearing that he was in real pain. You turned up to shout obscenities at Cioccolata, demanding to know what he’d done, but the doctor’s unhinged look of pure delight gave you pause.  

“I wouldn’t take my eyes off of him if I were you,” He said, clucking his tongue. You noticed that Secco was leaned over the edge of the scaffolding, angling a video camera your direction.

Bruno’s heavy breathing brought your attention back. He was sweating bullets, normally kempt raven hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes flicked up and down your body as his chest heaved. Fear gripped you as you realized he looked like a cornered feral animal, “Bucciarati…are you o-”

“[Y/n]…” He practically growled, limbs twitching, drool dripping from his parted lips, “Run.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. The entrance to the warehouse was twenty to thirty feet away. If you could just get outside, you could flag down Abbacchio and Giorno who stood as lookouts for backup.  

You got hardly ten feet before something wrapped around your waist and slammed you backwards onto the hard metal floor, knocking the air out of you. Your veins ran ice cold as whatever it was immediately hooked its arms beneath your shoulders and began to drag you backwards. You kicked out wildly and screamed bloody murder, trying to dig your soles into the floor just enough to keep from being taken.

In a last ditch effort to escape, you turned your head down to bite the arms that constricted your chest. Horrified, you realized they belonged to Sticky Fingers.

“Bucciarati, stop!” You cried out, terribly confused. Sticky Fingers stopped and heaved you sideways so that Bruno stood at your feet, looming over you. His breathing was even more erratic, and his hands were visibly trembling. A single tear leaked from his blown out eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered. You tried to jerk out of the stand’s grasp as it suddenly gripped the sides of your shirt and ripped it open in a flurry of movement. Bruno’s eyes pierced your bare chest with his unhinged gaze, and suddenly he was on you like a rabid wolf. Lips, hands, teeth, breath- all of it gliding along your body at once with no regard for your sobs of protest.

Bruno and Sticky Fingers made quick work of your clothing, stripping you naked in a matter of seconds. All you could do was beg your capo to stop as he exposed you to the world, and all he could do was mutter apology after apology. He gripped your hair painfully and pressed his body against you, rutting his clothed, painfully hard erection against your lower abdomen and panting in your ear.

“[Y/n], [y/n]…I have to. I need to…”

“Bucc-Bruno, please don’t do this,” You wept. Bruno bypassed removing his pants altogether by just zipping the top half of them off completely, freeing his throbbing length. It hit your bare stomach with a sickening slap and bile rose in your throat. Sticky Fingers tightened its grip on your arms as you struggled, but you managed to kick Bruno hard in the thigh.

“You bitch,” He shouted, hands moved impossibly fast, digging his nails into your flailing legs so hard they pierced your skin. His voice sounded like it came from another entity altogether. You never even thought it possible for Bruno to get so enraged.

Just as fast as his fury came it disappeared into dust. His face immediately twisted into sadness and he threw himself against you, letting out a slew of apologies against your ear. You stopped struggling and just cried, completely stunned and profoundly conflicted. On the one hand, the man you trusted the most in this world was going to violate you beyond repair. On the other hand, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Bruno. It was the enemies that stood proudly above you, lazily gratifying their own members to your despair.

Like a man possessed, Bruno pushed your thighs apart painfully wide and began frotting against your bare folds. His groveling melted into mumbling incoherently about all of the ways he’s wanted to fuck you ever since the day you met. It pained you deeply to think that your friendship might have been nothing but Bruno biding his time, waiting for the day you would accede to his desire. You tried to shake the thought from your head. It isn’t Bruno, it isn’t Bruno.

From somewhere above, you heard Secco cackle wildly. The tip of Bruno’s cock found its way into your entrance, and the burning stretch immediately brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Bruno pressed on, despite the fact that your body rejected him fully. It was agony, your role model’s thick, dry length impaling you inch by excruciating inch. His lips met your neck and sucked angry red marks into your clammy skin. It felt like he was splitting you in two. Sticky Fingers gripped your arms so tightly one of your shoulders felt dangerously close to popping out of its socket.

“Looks like I was right again, Secco. Even Santo Bucciarati can’t fight nature,” You shook your head violently, feeling the room spin. Stop talking…you thought. Stop talking, stop talking, it isn’t him!

After eons, Bruno finally bottomed out inside of you. Even sitting still, the thrum of pain you felt around his cock was immense. Your eyes wrenched closed, refusing to watch as Bruno took your body for his own.

“Please,” You whimpered one final time, appealing to some part of Bruno you desperately hoped was still lurking beneath the surface of whatever possessed him. You were granted no such appeal.

“Fuck,” He growled, moving inside of you, dick dragging along your walls like barbed wire. He felt your hot, sticky tears against his cheek as his sweat-slicked face leaned against yours, and in his first act of kindness dragged his tongue along them, “Don’t cry, bella…you’re taking me so well…” His hips snapped against you as his hands roamed your body, grasping at whatever flesh was within his reach. Even Sticky Fingers made small sounds as his user canted deep inside of you.

Bruno moaned aloud when your pussy clamped on his length for the briefest of moments as he hit a spot that, under other circumstances, would have felt incredible. Instead, it only made you sick. A cloying feeling scratching at your guts as he fucked you with wild abandon.

His thrusts became more erratic once his lips found yours. You fought as hard as you could, clamping your lips shut and turning your face away from him. Sticky Fingers didn’t hesitate to painfully grab your jaw and snap your head back to center, using its thick digits to pry open your mouth and give its owner access. Bruno moaned into your mouth when his tongue met yours, and it took everything inside of you not to retch as it slid along your throat.

“God, fuck,” He pulled away from you, wrapping his arms around your neck and penetrating your hole at a brutal pace, “I love you, [y/n],” Your stomach dropped, “I love you, I love you, I-” His hips stuttered as his release hit him suddenly, his seed spurting deep within you all at once. You whimpered pitifully at its warmth, disgusted at the feeling of his thick semen coating your walls.

Cioccolata slowly clapped. Secco proudly showed him from what great angles he managed to film the fall of Bucciarati.

Bruno clung to you for several minutes after his orgasm, when all you wanted him to do was leave you alone to mourn. His body trembled against yours. When he finally pulled away, you saw that his eyes, the real Bruno’s eyes, were filled to the brim with tears. You never saw him look so pained. He tried to speak, but no words came. Sticky Fingers faded away, and you collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Bruno pulled himself from you and bellowed into the endless abyss of the hangar until his throat was raw.

Diavolo’s guards held true to their word. They didn’t kill you that night, or any other night. They simply collected their data, and left the two of you to wallow in your shattered new reality.

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

#jjba imagines #bucciarati #bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati #buccellati #tw: rape #angst #not sfw #very not sfw #oops! all angst #dead dove do not eat #inappropriate use of stands #asks #requests #writing #sorry #jjba #cioccolata #secco #fics

[marvellouslymadmim]

Eist & Small Crach by thewolvesandtheirbard

I was inspired and thought you’d enjoy this :)

…

“Uncle?”

Eist had just begun to drift off into the first misty fog of sleep when he felt a chubby little finger poking at his cheek just below his right eye.

“Hmm?” He winced reflexively before peeking the left one open to peer at his nephew, who’s own sea blue irises were staring right back into his own, only curious and wide rather than strained and exhausted. “Crach, I’m sleeping. What’s wrong?” The Jarl yawned out his demand for why exactly he’d been so rudely woken. As if he didn’t already know.

“Shhh Uncle, Listen.” The little red haired princeling covered Eist’s mouth with the same pudgy little hand that had jabbed him awake.

Eist groaned, a rather loud and lion like yawn having passed him by, and he forced his eyes to stay open. If he didn’t comply, Crach would only keep him awake longer. “I’m listening.” He muttered under his nephew’s palm that muffled his words.

Crach released him then, satisfied that Eist was complying with his commands without him having to throw a tiring temper tantrum at such a late hour. He folded his short little arms over his uncle’s chest and laid his chin down upon them, still looking Eist in the eye, as serious as he could possibly be. This was a terribly important matter after all.

“Are narwhals real, Uncle?” He finally asked, hopeful for a more straightforward answer than the one he’d gotten from Mousesack during his tutoring over sea beasts earlier that day. Something about the last narwhal being seen back when his mother was just a babe. Did that mean they were real or not? Were they just real back then? Was the narwhal just a story that he forgot to read for his literature lessons? Mousesack could have been making fun of him since he hadn’t completed his papers again. So it only seemed logical to go to his uncle for more reliable information on the subject.

However, Eist wanted absolutely no part of such a topic so late into the night. “Crach, my lad, you know it’s bedtime, do you not?” He sighed, having been through plenty of Crach’s late night thoughts before this one. It seemed to be a habit that the boy just wasn’t ready to quit yet.

“I cant sleep until you tell me if they’re real.” Crach declared stubbornly. “Cause they have tusks, Mousesack says. It’s like a big horn and it’ll break through the hold and there’ll be a hole in the ship, and-“

“They’re real, Crach.” Eist hummed simply, eyes slowly slipping closed again. “Happy now? Why don’t you close your eyes and try to remember how many dolphins we saw this morning.”

“They’re real!?” Crach gasped. “Can they break through the ship, Uncle!? With their big tusks!? Can they eat us all whole like worms!?”

Eist groaned again, realizing that his short and simple answer had failed to fill Crach’s hunger for knowledge of the mysterious creature. “No, Crach. No to it all. We’re safe onboard the ship.” He promised, words becoming only halfway eligible. He was trying and failing to stay awake.

“But what if a witch comes and casts a spell on the ship and turns all of the walls into gross jelly? Like the kind that Uncle Bran likes for his dessert?”

“That would be unfortunate.” Eist grumbled. “But it won’t happen. Now please, just go to sleep, Crach. It’s very late and we both need plenty of rest.”

“Hmph…Okay.” Crach laid his little red head down on Eist’s chest, the tiny outline of the boy sinking slowly up and down with each of his uncle’s breaths.

Eist ruffled the boy’s hair as he began to slip into slumber for the second time that night, but it wasn’t much longer until he was woken by a little whisper that snuck straight into his ear.

“Uncle?” Crach spoke in a hushed voice. “If Bran is the King, does that mean that you’re a prince? Am I too? Was Mama a princess? I hope she was. Or a Queen.”

“Crach…” Eist sat up and plucked his nephew up out from under his blankets, an action that made Crach laugh with glee.

“Ah! The Kraken’s got me, lads! Save yerselves!” The boy shouted and Eist softly hushed him.

“No.” He put his foot down at the make believe games. “No more noise. Time for bed.”

“But Uncle-“ Crach tried to argue. Just one more thing I gotta ask! Please! I gotta! You know EVERYTHING!”

That little admission got to Eist. The young Jarl of Skellige couldn’t say no to such a polite request now could he? Especially not to his precious dear nephew who was looking up to him with such admiration and pride.

“Alright, alright.” He agreed eventually, even if he tried his best to mask his glee over the fact that Crach though him to be so wise. “Let’s hear it, lad. One last question for the night then it’s off to bed, alright.”

Crach nodded and wasted no time in passing his thoughts along to his uncle. “Why can’t Mousesack teach me to use magic spells?” He inquired suspiciously. “Is it really cause I don’t got no magic or is he just bad at sharing?”

Eist was tired. He truly was. But that one made him smile a little. “Bad at sharing.” He replied. “And you can heckle him for it tomorrow, but for now, will you please lie down and try to go to sleep? For me?”

Crach was quiet for a moment, making that familiar face he did when he was thinking really hard about something.

“How about for a honey cake instead?” He attempted to bargain. Lucky for him, his uncle was too tired to negotiate.

“Fine. You can have an extra honeycake with supper tomorrow night.” Eist relented. “Now we’re done bartering so shut your eyes and no more questions.”

Crach actually yawned himself this time and laid his head back down as Eist placed him at his side and tucked him in comfortably. “Goodnight, Uncle.” He muttered, shutting his eyes.

“Sweet dreams, lad.” Eist answered, letting out a sigh of relief.

They were both sound asleep within minutes and snoring together.

#holy fuck #no clue how long ago this was submitted bc apparently tumblr doesn't notify me of submissions??? #anyways #I LOVE IT #crach an craite #eist tuirseach #also the bad at sharing bit made me snort out loud #i love Eist and Crach ganging up on poor tired Mousesack #who is just like oh no there are TWO of you little shits now gods preserve me #submission

[cloneslugs]

majima </3

my friend <3 my beloved <3 ty for majima brain worms in my head every once in a while i <3

under cut bc this got longer than i wanted

Sexuality Headcanon: gay homo <3 

Gender Headcanon: trans guy to be vague but his gender is faggot ithink.. homo gender., he hasn't had top surgery <3 he planner a transition timeline w saejima but that got fucked and now he doesnt care

A ship I have with said character: kiryu (: 

A BROTP I have with said character: everyone really <3 i love how surrounded by love and friends he is now, but saejima for sure, kiryu, daigo is very cute buddies w him they're sweet he likes to look out for daigo & handle his own complex relations w parenthood/paternal figure whatever, um makoto and lee that's a family right there (:, kashiwagi is also now his buddy his bestie but not really it's one sided <3 haruka is also his little buddy they like to sing idol songs together and teach each other dances he has like a different connection w haruka than other people i think they just click sometimes 

A NOTP I have with said character: saejima </3. Freak level shit is nishitani or sagawa . then theres random niche level ships that are gross but not very popular so i am choosing not to see them

A random headcanon: he's autistic (:, he isnt a very good swimmer, he and saejima both cant legally drive they never got their licenses, he paints his nails under his gloves and everyone thinks hes kind of stupid for it but he has fun he likes it he usually goes black but sometimes he'll go green if he does it thinking about saejima or red for kiryu or haruka, really shitty sleep schedule not really caused by anything he just ends up staying up late a lot, he loses track of time really easily he can forget to eat/sleep/drink/etc but having saejima around helps since they're kind of joined at the hip at this point so whenever saejima does something he does too, i think hes missing a pinkie on his left hand, anger issues but really emotional issues he doesnt know how to keep his emotions in check it's either lock em up of blow up, his favorite color is pink, ik this is canon but hes really polite and well behaved in most public settings like when hes getting food or shopping or whatever so he hates going out w anyone who isnt w friend (namely saejima or kiryu) bc it would embarrass him if anyone said anything, hes not good w kids but he is but he isnt i think hes scared of getting close and hurting someone bc he can be moody/sporadic but hes like saejima where he'll always always look out for them or hold their hand if they need help walking somewhere and etc etc, gets cold easily, he can cook simple/traditional dishes but that's it and he doesnt do it often but sometimes cooking calms him down, hes cuddly very overly touchy w friends i think this is most evident w saejima bc once saejima came back he wouldnt stray too far from him and always stays close and just full of love and (: gets in your space too much it's his love language (he doesnt like it reversed on him though from most people) physical contact overall is just a very big thing to him good or bad, his apartment is really clean hes kind of meticulous on organization and tidiness but he doesnt put the same effort into his office ever

General Opinion over said character: my beloved friend <3 im sorry i pretend you're nothing to me bc you are actually a side character i enjoy a lot and mean the world to me you are very sweet (: we are homo gendered together <3

#asks #rgg txt #today is a writing day i will not put off writing <3 theres something i wanna start that feels shareable but first #majima time 😏 <3

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

oohohoho you just opened the deepest can of worms on the planet

-mod dave, who wrote a fucking ten mile essay

first off, addressing the second anon, no theyre all humans. h., half humans at least. cause yall know me i fucking love my humanstuck aus off my ASS

(that would be funny as hell though. a troll from space walking into a camp on earth going “I AM THE SON OF ONE OF YOUR EARTH GODS. BITCH” like... holy shit)

so first things first their parents. im gonna lay this out, the beta kids and trolls are all greek (EXCEPT sollux hes roman cause his parent has no greek equivalent), and all the alpha kids and trolls are those gods roman equivalents (,,EXCEPT dirk cause he kinda balances sollux being roman out). i havent figured out how thatd happen like 16+ times yet cause in the percy jackson books theres only ever been one instance of two siblings of the same godly descent being greek and roman respectively in HISTORY so like.. i guess th. i guess thats just not a problem in this au

anyway this gets really long so im gonna talk about the beta kids and trolls cause i havent elaborated on the alphas at all ((peep the tags if you wanna see their parents though))

johns the son of zeus, rose is the daughter of athena, dave is the son of apollo, and jade is the daughter of demeter. they were all raised in their respective states, all had to come to new york for various reasons. jades been there the longest, shes been there 9 years and shes been on a couple quests. her biggest accomplishment so far is how she protected the camp from this big vicious angry hellhound that got past the barrier. naturally the girls fluent in Dog Training, so she steps up and instead of trying to kill this thing, she reaches out and tames it as fast as she can. it ends up actually working, and ever since that day she, her cabin, and the camp have a whole bodyguard sleeping right outside the demeter cabin! hes her steed in battle and hes a Very Good Boy. and his name is becquerel

johns the newest kid at camp, he has no idea who he is or why the fuck his school got attacked or why in the hell those anemoi thuellai were so fixated on him or HOW in the hell he absorbed the lightning one threw at him and ended up fine,,, hes just a big mess right now. a big enough mess that when he got claimed by literally zeus, no one else was around, he shrugged it off as some basic magical happening, and he stayed in the hermes cabin far longer than he should have cause no one! fucking knew he got claimed! by zeus of all people! dumbass. he ends up figuring it out though. like an off-hand mention about how this “weird lightning thing appeared above my head a couple weeks ago, haha weird right?” once he figures it out he realizes “hey i might be able to fly” so he sneaks off into the woods to try it. he succeeds fairly quickly but god almighty everyones face the one day the dude just yote himself off a small cliff without warning,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

dave and rose are really tight, theyve been there roughly the same time length, and since their cabins are across from each other they just bother each other all the time. daves the resident Doctor even though he really doesnt look it cause hes got the apollo powers. apollo is the medicine god. so if you wound your stupid ass in battle daves in the ER room patching you up with his glowy hands. rose on the other hand is a very good strategist. shes one of the only athena kids ever recorded to actually have a power - telekinesis. she has no idea how she developed it, she thinks its from birth, but it freaks her out. shes training it though.

so the beta trolls, are also all human(ish). aradias hades kid. but i pulled a pjo trope on her based on one of my favorite characters (im not saying for spoilers, but if you recognize the situation, You Probably Know Who Its Based Off) and aradia died. her mom, the handmaid, had been pulling some Shady Ass Shit and ended up getting herself killed, but aradia tried saving her and ended up going down with her.

so handmaid gets sentenced to the fields of punishment in the underworld, and aradia gets sentenced to elysium, heroes paradise. shes like “no i want my mom to be okay” so they take that away from aradia and they put them both in the fields of asphodel, the neverending grey space for Not So Good But Not So Bad people. her mom becomes a shade (shadow spirit, no human resemblance), as all people do, but aradia. doesnt? and she gets dunked in the fucking river lethe and if you dont know what that does it erases your memory. so she just. comes out of the river like “hello? wgat tae fukc goin on??” but she still remembers one thing. there was an “a” in her name.

tavros is the son of hermes, hes just kinda taken on the role of backup counselor for when the actual cabin counselor is out. hes in a wheelchair, but he also has prosthetic legs for when he needs to actually stand up and fight. hes really good at it too. also catch him in winged converse cause he Owns Those and Uses Them To His Advantage. hes trying his best to keep focused on the camp, cause aradia was his childhood friend, he misses her a whole lot, she never got to camp in the first place. and to his knowledge, shes still dead.

sollux is a janus kid. thats a problem cause janus is roman, and this is a greek camp. he grew up with dave, he showed up with dave, hes been at camp as long as dave. but hes been unclaimed since he showed up so he thinks hes unwanted by whatever parent he has. he knows hes a demigod, he got through the camp barriers, so what the fuck is wrong with him? he also feels shitty cause hes shit at the greek lessons, he cant read a lick of it which literally every demigod without exception should be able to do, he cant name any gods- well, he can, but.. he gets their names mixed up. why does he keep calling poseidon “neptune”? and he has a much, much different way of natural fighting than other kids. they slice, he jabs. he wasnt taught to jab. 

karkat is an aphrodite kid with vitiligo, and to make matters worse, hes ace and on the aro spectrum. to make matters WORSE, the aphrodite kids are kinda notorious for being really shallow, really materialistic, and really mean. karkats been dubbed the “runt” of the cabin, he gets made fun of for his spots to the point where he uses make up and magic to conceal them. worst of all? hes the kid of the goddess of love, for fucks sake. being reminded that “loveless people shouldnt be able to stay in this cabin, mom must have made a mistake claiming you” is kind of.. a blow to the self esteem. long story short he hates aphrodite for claiming him, and would have rather stayed in the hermes cabin. but he eventually goes on this big quest thats vague as fuck right now but Its The Main Plot, he ends up proving to himself that hes worth something and that his siblings are wrong, and my FAVORITE LINE IN THE WHOLE THING i came up with is HIS when he deals a final blow to some big monster: “REMEMBER MY FACE THE NEXT TIME YOU REINCARNATE. MY NAME IS KARKAT VANTAS, I’M THE SON OF APHRODITE, AND LOOKS CAN KILL.”

nepeta isnt anywhere near developed as others are unfortunately, shes a daughter of ares and shes really really good at hand to hand combat. shes small but she leads groups of people in things ranging from camp volleyball games to actual literal wars. shes a tough little shit

kanaya isnt really developed either, i have yet to figure out most of her powers too actually, shes a daughter of iris, the rainbow goddess though. (blatant reference to both kanayas vampirism and. h. her. sh. es ga. gay) ONE THING SHE CAN DO THOUGH is iris message at will without water or drachmas so really shes just everyones go to cell phone and its fucking hilarious cause people just come into the cabin like “KANAYA I NEED TO TALK TO [X]” and shes like “You Better Fucking Pay Me I Am Not Your Personal Cell Phone”

terezi is the daughter of nemesis and she has this really peculiar power she hasnt really gotten the hang of yet. she has synesthesia, so while she cant see she can smell and taste the colors of her surroundings and its really helpful. sometimes though she gets messages from her mom. they dont even come as dreams half the time, they come as almost a different plane altogether. tez has the power to literally tip the scales, pretty much. and when she gets like that, she can see. shes not on earth though, shit on earth stops when shes like that. shes just kinda In Her Own Head, i guess? and in her head she holds the two scales in her hands. she is the arms of the scale. and depending on which one she lifts up, she can literally alter the fate of the battle or happening thats going on By Herself. once she chooses she just whooshes back to real life though and nothing has changed. the only downside? it takes a LOT of energy and cant be exploited for little things. her one thing on her bucket list is to tap into said powers while getting something from a vending machine so like three things will fall out but it hasnt happened yet and shes upset

vriskas a daughter of tyche, the luck goddess, come the fuck on you knew i was gonna, i havent really elaborated on her either and im upset about that. but hey now you get a break from all those fucking paragraphs

equius is a hephaestus kid, and he kinda stays in the background. hes a range fighter, he spends a lot of time in the forge, and even though its been a project looooong since forgotten, hes been excavating the tunnels under cabin nine for years. by himself. he has no idea where they lead, but dammit hes gonna find out where. he has no idea about a certain bunker in the woods though...

gamzees just there for a fucking laugh tbh hes a son of dionysus and i love that cause hes the god of wine and parties and insanity. usually gamzees just zoning out somewhere hes Not supposed to be, and hes not affected by the maenads FUCKED UP BULLSHIT that goes down the forest sometimes. also hes so fucking scared of tavroses wing shoes he tried them on once while he was high and JESUS CHRIST

eridan is the son of kymopoleia, a SUPER obscure goddess. lets just say dont fuck with eridan cause his mom is the goddess of violent sea storms,

and naturally, feferi is the daughter of poseidon. cause who the FUCK else would she be the daughter of. WHO. NAME ONE GOD

OH AND JUST CAUSE I FORGOT CALLIE AND CALIBORN ARE SATYRS IN THIS AU. CALLIE HAS PAN PIPES. and caliborn still has a gun

#LONG #LONG LONG LONG LONG LOOOOOOOOONG #god DAMN this took a minute and a half to write #okay here are the alphas parents #jane - jupiter // roxy - bellona // dirk - hephaestus // jake - mars #yes that does mean dirk and the zahhaks are godly half brothers #damara - pluto // rufioh - mercury // mituna - janus // kankri - venus #meulin - mars // porrim - arcus // latula - invidia // aranea - fortuna #horuss - vulcan // kurloz - bacchus // cymopolea // meenah - neptune #not a quote #mod dave #homestuck #demigodstuck #john egbert #rose lalonde #dave strider #jade harley #aradia megido #tavros nitram #sollux captor #karkat vantas #nepeta leijon #terezi pyrope #vriska serket #equius zahhak #gamzee makara #eridan ampora #feferi peixes #calliope #caliborn

[vanchlo]

The Assistant /Chapter Twenty-Six, “Old Faces”

Catch up on reading or start from the beginning HERE! :-)

Thanks for reading! c:

                                SNEAKY PEEK TIMEEEEEEEEE!!!

Something inside of my chest falls and for the first time in weeks, my thoughts are flooded with her. And I’m worrying about her, missing her, and wanting to hear her voice. I’m feeling all of the things and thoughts I’ve done such a great job at suppressing for the last few weeks.

Because before, only the alcohol could, but I couldn’t do that anymore. I knew she’d be disappointed. And once that thought wormed its way into my brain, I couldn’t entertain it for more than a minute. And so I dumped out the bottles and threw them in the bin.

Now, I feel myself fill with regret at that because once again I want to drown the feelings.

Because I’m hurting thinking about all of the hurt and pain she’s feeling.

“Awww, my little baby on her first day of school!” 

“Oh, would you stop?” I groan in annoyance. But I can’t get rid of the smile pinching my cheeks. 

“You’re looking like a lawyer already, Boops!” Skye comments as I stop in front of her at the island. She sets down her Winnie the Pooh mug and just smiles at me. It’s a rare occurrence. “And don’t you start saying that I can’t call you that. I’d say it’s rather fitting for a day like this.”

“Fine. Only today you can call me that old nickname that’s been dead for decades,” I reply before looking down at my outfit. “I’m not too overdressed, am I?”

“No, I think you look very nice. And you should dress to impress, they say.”

“Mmmmhmm,” I respond, flattening the patterned long-sleeve blouse I wear. Black jeggings cover my lower half. 

“Are you excited?” Skye’s question hits me as I reach for a glass from the cupboard. I watch the golden orange juice splash into it. 

“Yeah, I really am. I know I’ve already been down this road, but I feel so much more confident and excited this time around.”

“Well that says something,” she replies and I nod at her answer. The slice of bread sinks into the toaster as I set down the jar of jam with my other hand.  

I grab a plate and scoop the rest of the scrambled eggs onto it that Skye left for me. “I’m dying a girl’s hair rainbow today, so there’s my big bang,” she comments enthusiastically with her sky-blue eyes twinkling. I smile at the excitement in her voice.

It finally looks like we’ve found our callings, I think to myself. A second later, I almost cringe at myself, but at the same time, I’m grateful for the happy thought. 

“So most of your classes are online?” 

“Yeah, but I have this one that I have to go on campus for. It’s one of the important ones,” I reply before a bite of scrambled eggs passes my lips. 

Ding! 

Dragging my phone across the counter, I look at my lit-up screen. A new text appears on my screen to join the others. 

Asher:

Good luck on your 1st day back!!! Hoping everything goes well and you get nice teachers!!! Take deep breaths!!! Dont forget to tell me how it went :) 

Sophie (Boss):

Wishing you a great first day back, Becky! We’re all so proud of you and we can’t wait to see the great things you do! Good luck! 

Robbie:

Proud of u for going back Ree. Keep ur chin up. I cant wait 2 hear all about it. Excited 2 hang out with u and dad this weekend back home. Love u sis. 

Daddy:

Happy 1st day of school 2 my big 25 year old! I hope ur 1st day back is gr8 Boops. Good luck! Take ur time & ask ?s. Call when u get home. I want 2 hear how it went. Love u! xoxo

A smile creases my cheeks as I read the words. I hear his familiar voice inside of my head, and warmth radiates through my chest. It makes me ache for one of his hugs and forehead kisses. I swipe right on my Dad’s text and click on the space to enter my own text. 

Thanks so much, Dad! I’m really excited, but nervous. I feel like people might know I’m the dropout… But luckily I only have only one face-to-face class, and the rest are online. I hope that you are feeling better. Let me know if you need anything. I can’t wait to see you this weekend! Love you, Daddy! Xoxoxoxo

The lecture hall is smaller than I remember, and less run down. Hmmm, maybe my experience is actually going to help me to not be so afraid and intimidated, I think to myself. After walking up several stairs, I choose an empty table in the middle of the hall. Students mill around talking and checking online course content and Snapchat. Their chatter fills my ears as I set down my violet backpack and sit down. I place my laptop in front of me, along with a fresh notebook, my planner, and my little bag of pens and pencils. As I boot up my new laptop, the seats around me fill up. It’s not long before the professor takes a seat at the table at the front. His graying hair is tied into a short pony at the back of his head. The class quiets down at his arrival, but there aren’t many of us in the cohort. Around 50 or so. 

Looking up behind his horn-rimmed glasses, a smile sparks behind his thick gray beard. “Oh, don’t mind me. We still have a couple of minutes until class starts, and I’m sure this bloody computer will take that and longer to start up,” he quips, and my classmates and I reply with laughter. “If everybody’s here, we can at least start with introductions. Shall we?”

“I’m Professor Alcott and I’ll be your guide for Criminal Law this semester. It’s great to see a group of smiling faces eager to dive into the nastier side of law. I practiced full-time for around 25 years until I arrived at this university. I thought I’d like to guide young minds into the law world, and so here I am. I still practice occasionally when I’m not teaching. It fulfills my craving to be back in the courtroom when I’m not in the classroom. Now, who would like to go next?”

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

+

“It sounds like your first day couldn’t have gone better, Boops.”

“Yeah, I actually think you’re right, Dad,” I reply, sinking lower into the welcoming sheets of my bed. 

“You don’t have to say it like I’m not usually right,” my dad jokes back with a weak laugh. My smile falls at that, wondering if I’ve ever heard a hearty chuckle absent from his voice.

“I-I’m not, don’t worry . . Are you feeling any better, or are you still having those um pains you were talking about?” I ask tentatively, worry and care sewn into my words. 

“I’m okay. They come and go,” he replies softly with few words. 

“Are you going to go to the doctor like I’ve been begging you?”

“Yes, Becky. I have an appointment for tomorrow morning. Just like I promised

you,” he replies with emphasis in his words. I try to find the fear in his words. But either he’s doing a great job of masking it, or it’s simply not there. 

“But you cancelled the last one, Dad.”

“I didn’t mean to cancel it, Becky,” he sighs. “I made it and found it got in the way of work. I forgot to reschedule it. I’m sorry.”

“I know, Dad. I just want you to get looked at. I don’t want something to be wrong,” I say quietly, feeling the fear creep up my throat. But I try my hardest to push it back down, because I can’t let it in. I can’t worry about my Dad anymore than I already am. I have school now and my job. I just can’t. 

“I know, sweetie, and neither do I. Everything’s going to be fine, my love. You needn’t worry,” my dad tells me in his soothing deep voice. The same voice that lulled me to sleep with bedtime stories, explained maths homework to me whilst I cried in frustration, and told me it was okay when I dropped out of law school. He’s always been there to tell me it’s going to be okay, and now I know I need to be the one telling him it’s going to be okay. 

I just hope that I’m telling him the truth. 

+

Madley looks just the same. But it doesn’t. 

New shops have opened up. Old ones have closed down. New developments have sprung up. Patches of woods have been cut down. The city park has a new playset instead of the one I grew up on. My former primary school has a new addition. Roads were redone. New ones were made. 

I made the drive easily, knowing it like the back of my hand by now. 

But at the same time, it’s hard. Because I have this off feeling sitting heavy in the pit of my stomach. And I can’t name it, or make it go away. It’s been there all morning, and I can’t figure out how to get it to go away. 

It grows as my footsteps sound on the sidewalk leading to the front door of the house I grew up in. Shoots of grass inch through new cracks in the cement. The daffodils wilt against the steps leading to the front door. 

The feeling in my gut flares, making me stop. I take a second to look harder. The cream paint that’s defined my childhood home is peeling in places. The grass hasn’t been cut in a while. I can’t remember the last time I saw it long, and not neatly cut. Patches of prematurely fallen leaves scatter the usually clean walkway. The glass window panes on the top half of the door are smudged and dirty. I don’t get another second to look harder, because the front door opens and a smile waits for me. 

Perhaps my favorite one. 

“Hi, baby girl,” my dad coos, letting go of the door. It creaks before closing as I watch my dad pad down the steps and wrap me in a hug. 

I exhale into my dad’s chest clad in one of his typical Nike jumpers. Letting go of my suitcase, my arms find their way around him by instinct. 

“How was your trip?” he asks in his deep voice. His scruffy cheek falls onto the top of my head, and he holds me against his chest.  

“Good, thanks. The usual,” I reply. I squeeze him and try not to notice how my arms go around him easier than the last time. I just try to find comfort in his familiar smell of the same laundry detergent he’s used for 30 years. 

“Good. Robbie just got here. I’m finishing up lunch right now, it’s almost ready,” he informs me. 

“Oh no, don’t leave Robbie around food cooking on an open flame,” I joke, feeling one of his large hands comb through the hair at the top of my head. 

He laughs and mine echoes his. But I’m afraid that they’re both forced. Dad releases me from the cocoon-like hug, but not before planting a kiss on my forehead. The same kind of kiss he’s given me since the day I was born. Always the forehead. 

“We better hustle then,” he quips, stepping to the side to pick up my violet suitcase. I smile at him and he mirrors it as he holds the door open for me. 

“I think something’s burning!” I hear Robbie exclaim in a confused tone. 

“How do you even survive on your own?” I answer, toeing off my shoes in the entryway. I push them to the side with my foot to sit on the red rug. Beside Dad’s white Nikes green from mowing the lawn. Robbie’s black vans. 

“On microwavable ramen, hot pockets, cereal, and chicken nuggets. Duh,” Robbie replies, garnishing an eye roll from me. But he can’t see it. 

The same brown plaid couch stares back at me a few feet away in the living room. My dad sets my suitcase down by the wooden stairs a few steps in front of me. 

“You just stir it, you goon!” my dad tells Robbie, padding through the living room in his classic Levi jeans. “Did I teach you nothing when it came to cooking, or did you tune out that day?”

A Chelsea vs. Arsenal game plays softly on the telly. But its only viewer is the In-Fisherman magazine sloppily laid on the couch. 

“No, I’m pretty sure I was stoned that day,” Robbie replies softly with a wry chuckle. My dad sighs and clucks his tongue at my brother. 

“Any day now, Ree!” Robbie shouts to me. But I hardly hear him, because my thoughts are wound up in the uncharacteristic pill bottles I see on the side table. And the brochures that I can’t make out from this distance. I recognize a few as take-away. One has lots of words that I can’t read, but it makes my heart shrink regardless. 

“Hey, everything alright?” 

I look up and watch Robbie walk into the room. His pale skin the same shade as mine peeks out from the trendy holes in his blue jeans. He pushes his black button-down aside to pocket his hands. A familiar Marvel shirt peeks out from underneath. 

Swallowing, my lips part, “Did Dad tell you what the doctor said?” I ask nervously, keeping my volume low so only he hears. 

“No,” Robbie responds quietly. And I hear it in his voice. Because it’s the same thing I just heard in mine. 

“Rob,” I mumble, looking him in the eyes. I feel something pass between us, and somehow I know that he’s thinking the same thing as me. 

I look up at the ceiling, trying to will the tears away, but it never works. Because I’ve tried it so many times in the last few days as I worried why my dad didn’t tell me what his doctor said on Tuesday. 

“Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. Why don’t you lot go and wash up?” my dad announces, and I nod automatically. But I know I can’t go upstairs and wash my hands in the sink that I have for the last 20 years. And that my dad does every day. 

Before I know it, the fall sunshine is welcoming me back. I don’t hear the door close with a metallic smack. All I hear are soft footsteps and the sound of sobs leaving my lips. I blink and feel Robbie’s arms go around me. 

“I’m scared, too,” he confesses, tears choking his words that echo my silent ones. 

“I’m so afraid that he is, too,” I reveal into his neck that soon grows slick with my tears. 

“Did you notice how he looks?” Robbie asks into the crown of my head, his lips moving against my hair. I feel his warm tears meet my scalp. 

“Mmmhmm. He’s so pale. And he’s lost weight.”

“Yeah, and he tries not to show it, but he’s tired,” Robbie adds in. His chest shakes underneath me and I hear him hiccup from the crying. “I dunno if he’ll even eat. It looks like he hasn’t been recently. There’s like nothing in the fridge, Ree. We need to buy him groceries. It looks like he hasn’t left the house in days.”

All I can do is nod, and I do. Because the tears are too thick, and what am I even supposed to say? How do I put these terrible feelings into words, much less ones that make sense? 

“I know, Ree, I know,” Robbie coos soothingly.

But somehow it brings me comfort to know that Robbie is feeling all of the same things and having all of the same thoughts as me. Stupid twin intuition or not, I just know. And at the same time, it makes my heart squeeze harder in pain. 

“Kids, come on!” We hear our dad call from inside the house. 

I leave Robbie’s arms and find his tear stricken face looking down at the ground. I brush the hair out of his eyes; the hair the same dark chocolate color as mine. His eyes the same ice blue as my own meet mine painfully. I swipe my finger under them to catch the tears. His fingers wrap around my hand and give it a squeeze. 

“Let’s go eat lunch with our dad,” he mumbles, his voice still shaky. 

I nod and squeeze it back. The same hand I’ve been holding ever since before I was born. 

My partner in crime for life. 

My twin. 

“Go and splash cold water on your face, it’ll help. You can always say that I splashed soap in your eye.”

“Yeah, and how’s that going to sound if that happened to both of us?” he questions, pulling me by the hand into the house with a laugh. I make sure to close the door quietly before following him up the staircase. The sound of our dad’s whistling carries up the stairs and to my ears. 

I savor it. 

I never want to forget the first music I ever heard, and the one that never fails to calm me. Next to his soothing voice. 

My daddy.

+

 The rest of our day was better, but worrying about my dad was always at the back of everything. Silent, yet nagging. It interrupted all of the moments. 

The laughing over a plate of home-cooked food. 

The jokes and stories that passed the time of washing dishes. 

The traditional walk around the block. 

Our visit to the local library’s book sale. 

Dad’s usual drive around town filling us in on everything we’ve missed. 

So and so died. 

She had a kid. 

They got married. 

They’re building this there. 

That bloke went to jail. 

It disrupted watching reruns of Doctor Who on BBC. 

It returned after a cozy mid-day nap at dad’s elbow, strong as before. 

It nagged at the back of my head when the phone would ring. 

It sat in the circles of Robbie’s eyes when they locked with mine. 

It filled the empty spaces between our conversations. 

That question sat at the back of my head and in the pit of my stomach all day. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask it. Because I couldn’t confront the possibility of hearing the answer I dreaded most. 

“Boy, you make one good pizza, baby girl,” my dad smiles as he stretches his arms to the ceiling. 

I nod, slapping an automatic smile on my face. It doesn’t stay long when my eyes carry over to his plate holding the third slice he couldn’t eat. Another detail I noticed that’s unlike him. Because I can’t stop noticing them, and each one hurts more than the last. 

Before I can stop it like all of the other times, my vision grows blurry. I feel my throat take after it and I couldn’t swallow if I tried. I lift my eyes over to Robbie across the small kitchen table, and it takes a second. But he feels me looking at him and hesitantly makes eye contact with me. He nods after a second. Watching the tears fill his eyes makes the first one fall from mine. 

I sniffle out of habit and see my dad turn to look at me out of the corner of his eye. That parent hearing, that intuition. Heat rises to my cheeks and I hear my name leave his lips. Then he turns to look at Robbie and sighs. 

“Dad, I can’t pretend anymore. I’m sorry, but I can’t. We can’t,” I say, my voice breaking at the beginning and staying that way. Tears shadow all of my words, and they only grow worse when I feel Robbie grab my hand under the table. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay because we know that it isn’t,” I finish, finally taking the next dreaded step. I look my father in the eyes and find in them the answer I’ve been searching for all day long. 

His ice-blue eyes, the same color as mine and Robbie’s, stare back at me. They too are full of unspent tears, but it doesn’t last long. Soon they are falling down his cheeks stubbly with graying hair. His long, tan fingers comb through his hair the same shade as that of the hair on his children’s heads. Gray streaks speckled throughout fall from his fingers when he lets go. He clenches his hand into a fist that hits the table. Dad stares it before he lets it relax. 

Looking back up, my heart lurches when his eyes reconnect with mine. Because I know what he’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. 

“I have prostate cancer . . Stage 2. That’s all they know right now.” 

Dropping Robbie’s hand, the kitchen chair moves back with a whine. I put one foot in front of the other before my hand is opening the door. My resolve falls when I reach the last cement step, and my legs can’t go any further. My butt lands on the step and I fall into myself. I feel the tears spill from my eyes and coat the legs of my jeans. Loud sobs leave my lips as my entire body shudders with each one. 

No. No. No. No. No 

No, not my daddy. 

Why my daddy?

Why my daddy who had to put up with an awful wife for years?

Why my daddy who gave his children everything they wanted?

Why my daddy who gave so much to everybody else?

He gave so much and did so much and this happens to him. 

No. Not him. It has to be some mistake. 

I can’t lose my daddy. 

I lost my grandpa and then Harry. 

I can’t lose another person I love. 

I can’t imagine not hearing his voice on the other side of the phone. Or not getting his hugs that seem to fix everything. Or hearing his whistling or god awful singing. 

I can’t live without my dad. 

Sniffling, my fingers search blindly for my phone. Finding it in my back pocket, I turn my head slightly to look through blurry eyes. Unlocking it, I press on the app I look for. My fingers race across the screen with each number. Then, the name inside of my head shows up on the screen. 

Harry 

My thumb wavers over the phone icon. I swallow and feel another tear hit my cheek. How is it that I haven’t heard your voice or seen your face in almost 9 months, and yet it’s the only one I want right now? 

I close my eyes and feel my forehead return to my knees. Pressing a button, my phone locks with a clicking sound. My arms wrap around my knees pulled to my chest, and I feel every tear. And every thought. 

Until minutes later when a pair of arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me into their chest. I let my head fall onto them as it shakes with a sob. And then another pair of arms wrap around us. I feel a kiss to my forehead before the stubbly cheek tickles the top of my head. 

“I’m not going anywhere, kids. I s-still need to see you lot get married. I need to watch you kick ass and become a lawyer. And walk Ree down the aisle, and make sure Bee names his firstborn son after me,” my dad cries, pulling his two children into the confines of his trembling chest. Robbie and I laugh, and our dad’s weak one echoes our own. “I’m gonna fight this. I might need your help, but I’m not giving up that easily. Your old man’s not a woosy.”

Laughs surround our tears as I hold onto my dad and my brother. A large part of my small world. 

“I’m not going anywhere, dad,” Robbie gets out with tear-soaked words. 

“And neither am I, daddy,” I echo, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. 

I peek my eyes open and find Robbie on the other side of my knees. His head is lying on dad’s other shoulder. He reaches a hand across and intertwines his free hand with the one not wrapped around our dad. Unspoken words pass between us. After a few seconds, I know that the words we just spoke we promised to not just our dad, but to each other. 

We ask questions and he answers. He’s known for only a day or two. The appointment last Tuesday was for a checkup like he said. They were able to do the biopsy later in the day. We cry into each other, feeling the same fear and pain. Uncertainties sit in the air between us as the sun sets behind the oak trees in front of us. The scene in front of me couldn’t look any different from a night of my childhood. 

More than anything, I wish I could go back to one of those days. Ice lollies on the front steps sitting on dad’s jiggling knee. Him trying to get me to laugh. By his fingers tickling my ribs. His face contorting into funny faces. Or his imitations of characters I watched on the telly. His wrinkles and gray hairs gone. As well as his cute little beer belly. Mom calling for me to get in the bath with Robbie from inside the house. The Rolling Stones playing on the radio inside. Sounds of neighbor kids mingling with the music, as well as dogs barking. But we stay there and watch the shades of the rainbow paint the sky. 

Although I know that I can’t go back, I let myself sit in that safe memory for a moment longer. Because sitting on my dad’s strong, tan knee in that 4-year old moment, everything was okay. And I want to enjoy that for a few minutes longer before I have to return to reality. Before I have to start living in a reality where things won’t be okay for a while, because my daddy isn’t okay. And because of that, neither am I. 

I don’t know when I will be again. 

+

My footsteps echo on the tile floor. Each one makes a sound with its own name, like in the Dr. Seuss books my mum would read to me when I was a kid. 

Plop. 

Klopp. 

Dopp. 

“Would you bloody leave already? I’m sick of seeing your bleeding face,” a voice quips from behind me. 

I turn to find Myles following me. He titters with a smirk covering his stubbly face. 

“Oh, would ya shuddup?” I return with a shake of my head, combing my fingers through my hair, but not much hair greets them. 

“I thought you were done putting in these late nights,” he comments, his steps echoing my own now. 

Pushing open the door to the supply room, I step up to the copier. “Nah, I still have sum stuff t’ finish up. Gotta prep fer my case that starts Monday,” I answer him, punching in my code on the touch screen. 

A long ‘ah’ leaves his lips as he rummages in something behind me. Probably knicking some more of the nice pens before they’re gone. 

“Well, I’m not a workaholic like you, so I’m leaving work before 5 on a Friday,” he tells me, assuming that I care. I chuckle, shaking my head at his pompous words. The copier sounds back at me, and takes the paper away with a woosh. “Please don’t bloody sleep here again. I don’t wanna have to hear complaints from the cleaning staff. And I don’t wanna have to pay you more than I have to.” 

“I pay meself, ya cheeky bastard,” I scoff, turning to find him grinning as he stands with a foot out the door. 

But his smile falls and along with it comes a squeeze on the arm from him. “Really, Hare, if you need to sleepover here I don’t mind. I know it wasn’t a nice joke . . I’m glad to see you’re doing better, though. Meaning, not as many empty bottles in your bin,” Myles continues softly. My amused expression falls when the seriousness arrives in his tone. “Yeah, I noticed ‘em, mate. Glad they’re not there anymore. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Keep at it.” 

All I know to do is nod. He returns it and I watch the back of his blonde head walk away. I sigh, picking up the stack of papers waiting on the tray. I grab the original and rummage in the drawers until I find a binder clip. I fasten the papers together as I take my time walking back to my office. It’s even a little quieter than a few minutes ago. When I glance at my watch, I see why. It’s 5 o’clock on the dot. 

Myles is gone. 

Amelia is too. 

Mick’s office door is dark and closed. 

So is Rory’s, to no surprise, because he probably went out for drinks with My. 

Rose is still working hard behind her closed door that classical music trickles out of. 

Pete nods at me as I pass him in the hallway with an empty mug. Probably on his way for a refill. 

But another person is still here. I see him before he sees me, but when he does I follow him to the shiny metal sliding doors. 

“Ya aren’t anxious t’ get a start on yer weekend like e’rybody else? Or did somethin’ in IT break an’ ya gotta fix it?” I ask, stepping onto the elevator. 

“Not really. It’s supposed to rain all weekend, so what’s the fun in that?” Asher replies, stabbing a random button. By now, I know the drill. 

Push a random button and we have that long to talk. 

About her. 

“Good ol’ Fall rainstorms,” I comment, and he nods silently. 

I hum a tune as the elevator dings with each floor we pass. And he doesn’t say a word, and yet neither do I. Because the point of these secret meetings is for him to talk. And for the most part, I just listen. It’s a silent understanding by now, or so I think. 

“Yer makin’ me nervous not sayin’ anythin’,” I say, trying to laugh and offset the awkwardness. But it doesn’t help. And neither does the distraught look on his face when he meets my eyes. 

“I need to tell you something,” he confesses quietly. 

“Well ya, tha’s kinda tha whole point o’ these secret elevator meetin’s,” I smile, trying again to liven up the atmosphere. But he doesn’t smile, or crack a joke. 

The smile I was toting around falls, and my mind swarms with thoughts. 

Scary ones. 

Worrying ones. 

Questions. 

Worst-case scenarios. 

“Asher, i-is Becks okay? Did something happen?” I hurry, the words tumbling from my lips. 

“Yeah, she’s okay, Harry. I guess you could say that.”

“Well, ‘s she hurt? Did she get inna accident? Break a bone? What ‘s it?” I ask, question after question spilling out. 

“No, none of that,” he answers, shaking his head emphatically. “She’s fine, physically.”

“Then what?!” I continue, prodding him for answers that he won’t give up. 

But the last part of what he says gets me. It hints at what he’s about to say, and it doesn’t make me feel any better. It doesn’t pull a relieved sigh from my lips like I wish it could, but it’s not like that. 

When the gleaming metal doors slide open on the first floor, nobody is waiting there. Asher doesn’t give me time to look if anybody is coming, because he presses another button. Now, I know it’s serious. Pushed another button for extra time. Something happened. 

“Asher-.”

“She called me crying last night,” he begins. His voice is quiet and he sounds like he’s trying to keep the emotions out of it, but they’re heard in every word. “Her dad found out he has prostate cancer, and she’s a mess. I dunno how to help her, or if you could either. But I just hate seeing her in pain and upset,” he reveals, the words loaded and dark. 

I feel my back hit the railing on the wall, but I didn’t know that I was backing up into it. Something inside of my chest falls and for the first time in weeks, my thoughts are flooded with her. And I’m worrying about her, missing her, and wanting to hear her voice. I’m feeling all of the things and thoughts I’ve done such a great job at suppressing for the last few weeks. 

Because before, only the alcohol could, but I couldn’t do that anymore. I knew she’d be disappointed. And once that thought wormed its way into my brain, I couldn’t entertain it for more than a minute. And so I dumped out the bottles and threw them in the bin. 

Now, I feel myself fill with regret at that because once again I want to drown the feelings. 

Because I’m hurting thinking about all of the hurt and pain she’s feeling. 

“Yeah, I know whatcha mean,” is all I can say, because how the fuck do I put these thoughts into proper words? “Did she say anythin’ else ‘bout his diagnosis? Stages? Surgery? Chemo?”

“It’s still early, she doesn’t know a lot yet. I guess nobody does. He only just told her and Robbie last weekend. She’s trying to figure out how to rearrange her life to help take care of him,” Asher explains. I nod because that’s what you do when you don’t know what to say. 

I don’t get a chance to ask any more questions, because the doors slide open again. A red-headed gentleman steps off 17 and I decide to step on. Looking over my shoulder, I meet eyes with Asher. “Thank you, Asher . . I mean it.” 

He nods and I return it before turning around and walking back to my office. Goodbyes past between Rose and I, her long blonde curls dancing on her shoulders. Thunder clouds boom overhead and seconds later, I hear the rain begin falling onto the skylights. It makes the sounds from another Dr. Seuss book. 

Splatt.

Boom!

Dibble Dibble. 

Dopp Dopp. 

Country music pours from Pete’s office, bringing a confused smile to my face. But it only stays for a second, because my thoughts return to Becky. I sigh, twisting open my office door. I stop in my tracks when I hear my Fleetwood Mac ringtone filling my office. 

But it stops, and only then do my feet awake. Rushing over to my desk, I drop the stack of copies next to my computer. Forgetting them and working on prep work for my case, I shuffle through the mess on my desk. I lift up papers. Move books. Toss pens aside. Rearrange folders and pads of paper. And then I find it. The screen is black as it’s cupped in my hand. 

But in a matter of seconds, I awaken it and see who I missed a call from. The breath in my lungs stills and my breathing halts. My ass hits my chair with a sigh, and I wheel around to face the window. Angry storm clouds await me as rain falls hard against the foggy class. Tapping my temple with my finger, my thumb sits inches away from the screen. I debate whether to call the person back or not. 

Why would I? 

How can I? 

Should I?

I don’t have to decide, because the voice of Stevie Nicks spills from my phone’s speakers. And the image of that person’s face fills my screen. Their smile. Their magical eyes. Without hesitation, I slide my thumb across the screen. And press it to my ear. 

“Hullo?” I say slowly, barely loud enough to hear myself. Because I can’t believe it.

“Harry?” the voice replies. A question frames their familiar accent, but something else does too. Thick tears. 

“Becks . . are ya okay, love?”

#the assistant #pa harry #harry styles #harry styles au #fanfiction #wattpad #fanfic #writing #harry #lawyer harry #lawyer au #harry au #one direction

[sadwsocc]

Iwaizumi x reader

soulmate au where their first words to each other are tattooed (?) on their wrist/ forearm (depending on the length of the sentence)

word count: 1,630

genre: f l u f f ? 

a/n: this was actually my first ever haikyuu fanfic much to think about. i know theres a canon kaori in hq but i couldnt think of any other names for y/ns friend

"wOrm?", thats the word imprinted on Iwaizumi's wrist in small dainty lettering, a rather simple word, quite hard to understand it. Iwaizumi always got questions about his soulmate tattoo and every single time, all he did was shrug and simply say "i don't know either".

It was something the ace of Seijoh paid little to no mind to, he knew that he would meet his soulmate someday anyways so there was no need for him to rush. His friend, Oikawa was somewhat of an opposite of him, rather he, Oikawa, was rather pumped up about the topic of soulmates as he too haven't met his one and only yet. He just knew he would instantly fall in love with her (or him wink wonk) when he gets to meet them.

"h-HEy, i think it's kinda sweet!" Oikawa retorted, slightly flustered. this was their usual conversation, Iwaizumi would ask Oikawa these questions while Oikawa gets flustered.

"at least mine isn't a one worded sentence!" he continued. it was true that one worded sentences as the first things your soulmate would say to you were rare but it wasn't impossible.

"yeah, fine", Iwaizumi sighed in defeat, not wanting to prolong the conversation any longer. but to his demise, Oikawa continued.

"do you think my soulmate could be a really cute girl? that's like cheery?" he rhetorically asked his spiky haired friend.

"probably one of your fan girls that you've never spoken to, probably loud too. judging by your type." Iwaizumi answered.

"oH, come one! Iwa-chan~ be more serious!" Oikawa pouted, which made his friend roll his eyes in annoyance. "i wonder when we'll meet!" he continued in his ever so cheery tone. "oh, i wonder who you're soulmate would be, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa smirked, continuing, "i bet it's that girl below our year, (h/c)(h/l) hair, (e/c) eyes... (y/n)-chan was it? i've been seeing you looking at her whenever you get the chance to!"

this resulted in a blushing Iwaizumi throwing Oikawa out of the club room.

the other members who were just outside were stunned when they saw Oikawa flying out on their way in.

———

you were looking down on your forearm while waiting for Akiyama Kaori, your friend since they were twelve. the words "did you purposely set those two up?" tethered your forearm in big bold lettering. you, a second year at Seijoh always found it confusing whenever the words ran through your mind.

most students in your school had already found their soulmate which didn't really bum you out but it did bum out Kaori, she for one was one of those lovesick and delusional teens who would go out of their way to read, write and imagine herself with a fictional character or her crush. you too would read and occasionally self indulge in these things but you were no match for Kaori. other than fictional characters, she also had quite a huge crush on your school's star volleyball setter. her love for him grew even more when he once mentioned to a group of fan girls that he still hadn't found his soulmate where you overheard and told her about it.

you looked at her expectedly and zipped open your bag, handing her a textbook. "okay, so i was in the teachers office and while i was on my way out, Ms Nakamura handed me this, Oikawa's textbook. she told me that he handed up his tExtbook instead of his notebook during literature. and i kinda thought you might wanna do the honours of giving it to him so uh here you go."

Kaori looked at you with stars glistening her eyes. she was starstruck. "oH, (y/n)! are you seriously going to make me talk to Oikawa? tHE OIKAWA?" she said as she held the textbook with her dear life, flipping through the pages, looking at little alien doodles he probably drew.

you sighed, "come one he's probably in the gym".

on your way there you thought about Oikawa, or more specifically his rather fierce looking spiky haired friend. you wondered if he had a soulmate or not— not that you were interested in him or whatever. okay maybe you kinda sorta thought he was kinda cute and you may or may not kinda sorta used this opportunity to see him again while asking Kaori to accompany to, it was like killing two birds with one stone.

———

the two of you awkwardly entered the gym as the volleyball club members were almost done with their practice. the two of you knew the other second year players well, you would even go as far as to consider them as friends, you hung out with them quite a lot alongside Kaori but other than the ones in your year, the others were complete stranger to the both of you.

after the match ended, the two of you were noticed by your fellow second years and they walked towards the both of you.

"(y/n)-san! Kaori-san! hi, what are you doing here?" Watari greeted and asked.

"oh uh- Watari-san, hey. Kaori has something to do so i accompanied her here" you smiled awkwardly at him and also earning a small but hard nudge from your friend for pushing the blame on her.

meanwhile, Oikawa nudged his friend and pointed towards you discreetly to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi felt his heart suddenly beating fast unsure if it was because he saw you or because of the sudden shock from the nudge. he hoped it was the latter.

"Oi!" he growled at Oikawa, scanning around and saw another girl, who was shorter than the (h/c) haired girl Oikawa was pointing at. an idea popped into his mind. "hey, Oikawa, look at the girl over there" it was now Oikawas turn to blush, but only faintly.

Oikawa gasped and whispered to his friend "Iwa-chan, she's adorable! do you think she's my soulmate, do you, do you?" he was ignored by his spiky haired friend.

"iWA-CHANNN" he whined rather loudly. causing the two of you to snap your attention to where the loud whine was produced.

the two boys were rather embarrassed by the sudden attention they were receiving and just kinda diverted their eyes to the ceiling while whistling and shoving their hand in their pants nonchalantly.

you grabbed Kaori's hand and dragged her to where Iwaizumi and Oikawa were and forcibly tried to prop her up as her knees were starting to get weak from the sheer fear from being in front of her oh-so-amazing crush. Kaori finally came to her senses and stretched out her hands that were holding a textbook in front of her crush.

"O-oikawa-senpai, you forgot your textbook!" she blurted out and started blushing madly, you snickered beside her as realisation dawned on Oikawa as he replied, "thank you!... you must be my soulmate!"

there was a sudden pause and everyone in the gym was silent. Kaori pushed up her shirt's sleeve and revealed the words that Oikawa had just said aloud, where as Oikawa was looking at her arm and back to his. Kaori gave a big smile and started giggling while Oikawa hugged her in his sweat filled form but you didn't think Kaori would mind as her soulmate was her biggest crush.

you leaned on one of the gyms walls as you silently cheered for the two newly love birds with your arms crossed. you would be walking home with Kaori after this whole ordeal so you had to wait. sighing intently a small smile etched onto your lips yet you couldn't feel a bit sad that everyone you knew had a soulmate.

"did you purposely set those two up?" a sudden low voice spoke out. you look beside you and realised that Iwaizumi had propped himself next to you, arms crossed.

"wOrm?" your masterful plan had worked, kinda. you didn't expect Oikawa was Kaori's soulmate, at the very least, you just wanted to make fun of your friend after she spoke to her crush for the first time but things had ended up better than anyone had expected.

Upon hearing your word, Iwaizumi and Oikawa snapped at you, bewildered. you looked at the both of them in confusion until Iwaizumi showed you his wrist, making you unconsciously roll up your sleeve and look at your own.

'did you purposely set those two up?'

'wOrm?'

you two had a stare off until the both of your friends spoke up in unison, "IWA-CHAN / (Y/N), YOU FOUND YOUR SOULMATE!!"

you two gave each other a soft smile as the two of your heart beats fastened and your cheeks redden. sure as hell you found your soulmate and you finally understood why Kaori had hugged hers as you jumped towards Iwaizumi, wrapping your arms around him as he did the same to you.

"holy shit, i cant believe you're my soulmate" you whispered.

"yeah" was all he replied with.

#best boy #haikyuu!! #haikyū #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwa x reader #soulmate #soulmatexreader #fanfic #oikawa #oikawa tōru #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime x reader #soulmate au #anime x reader #iwachan

[jising-jisang-jisung]

Sugar Lips | Huang Renjun

Genre: floof

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: this is one of the longest fics I've ever written and not at all based off of a boy from my school whom I dislike sorry about the rushed ending I didnt know where I was going with that :/

~~~~~

You and Renjun had never gotten along. He sat behind you in math and was constantly picking on you. Yeah, you could have destroyed him with some sick burns, but you held your tongue out of consideration for his gigantic ego. Half the school thought you two liked each other and the other knew that yall were mortal enemies. The thought of you liking Renjun made you want to stab your eyes out with sporks. However, you couldnt deny that Renjun was hot. Like, this boi had been hand sculpted by God himself. Seriously damn. You had to give credit where credit is due. But, as I said, you do NOT like Renjun.

After the rumors started that you and Renjun like each other, you tried to react less to him. You no longer argued and paid little attention to him. Much to your dismay, your teachers seemed to find your ability to ignore Renjun as a good quality that most of the others students lacked. This resulted in you sitting by him in most of your classes. But obviously you didnt let this affect you. You just had to sit there and pay him no attention. Easier said than done. You were always trying to not notice him, despite always looking at him because hes hot.

One night your friend, let's call her Ryn for fun, forced you out to a party and then ditched you. Skew you, Ryn! You weren't the biggest fan of parties so you sat on one of the counters in the kitchen, by yourself, patiently waiting for Ryn to be ready to leave. That's when something caught your eye. Renjun was also alone in the kitchen and he was looking right at you. Or at least, you thought he was, but he could easily be looking at something else. Why would he be looking at you anyways? You looked back down at your drink, avoiding any eye contact with the boy you have to ignore.

By this point in the year, you had gotten very good at ignoring him. You didnt even notice when he started walking towards you. And you didnt even react when he grabbed your hand. You paid him no attention as he led you into an empty room. All you had to do was not pay attention to Renjun. That's seriously all you had to do. So you didnt pay attention to him as he leaned towards you. But he grabbed your chin, causing you to look him in the eye. Shoot. Just dont react, you thought to yourself. You tried not reacting as he leaned closer and closer. Until..

He stopped? "Do you want me to stop" he asks innocently, a blush leaking onto his cheeks. Okay stay calm, just dont do anything rash- You tried to tell yourself but instead you grabbed his shirt in a fist and pulled him until the little space between you was now nonexistent. His lips were sweet, like sugar. They were as forbidden as they were sweet. And you were completely aware that you should not be doing what you were doing. Yet, you did not pull away. Thankfully, neither did Renjun. He just wrapped his arms around your waist and held you as close as he physically could.

The next thing you knew, your phone was going off. The musical tone signaling a call from Ryn who, to your dismay, was ready to leave and looking for you. Renjun took a small step back, wiped his mouth, and walked out of the room you to had shared. He didnt even say anything. Confused, you left as well, in search of Ryn. You found her by the door and explained everything that happened on your way home. Leaving out no details, it was a bit hard to believe considering Renjun was known to be you mortal enemy. What will happen when you sit by him in class tomorrow? Will he say something about it to embarrass you? Or will he stay quiet and pretend it never happened? Oh gosh, what if he says it was only because he was drunk? Thinking back to your memory, his mouth didnt taste like alcohol at all, so even if he tried to blame it on drinking, it wasnt feasible. But now you were thinking about kissing him,,, and that thought didnt go away easily.

~

You walk into your first class to see him already there surrounded by the other boys. You had planned to avoid eye contact and avoid him in general because you were worried about what he would do. But you locked eyes and to your dismay, he just smirked. Dare you say, is was a really handsome smirk too. Luckily nobody was paying attention so this interaction went unnoticed as you sat at your seat beside him.

Half the class went by without mishap and you hoped you would never have to deal with Renjun again. However, you are not that fortunate. He slid you a note discreetly.

Y/N, for acting like you have a pole stuck up your ass 80% of the time, you're a surprisingly good kisser ;)

You tried so hard to hold yourself back. To not react. To go back to how things were with Renjun as your enemy of mutual disgust. But you could help but write back.

Only 80% of the time?

You busy later?

I am completely free tonight

Good, my family is out for the night

And then the bell rang and you were off to your next class which you didnt have with Renjun. Before you knew it the school day had ended and you were rushing to leave. Maybe you were going too fast because you didnt see the person in front of you until after you ran right into them.

"Y/N! Can you fucking watch where you're going?!" Renjun said. You were taken aback by his antics because he was acting so weird in your classes today. I guess this makes it seem like nothing has changed between you two to the rest of the school.

"Watch where you're going, Renjun, you stepped out right in front of me." You spit back before you walked away without another word.

~

You arrived at Renjuns house around 5. When he opened the door, you could tell he was nervous but tried to play it off. You wanted to kiss him again, but he hadnt made another move. Yolo! You grabbed his shirt in a fist and aggressively pulled him towards you. His eyes were big, surprised by your actions. He kissed you back more delicately than before. It was as if he was no longer fueled by the lust he had at the party.

Renjun was the first to pull away. His face was bright red as he invited you further into his home. "Are you hungry?" He asked. "Yeah, maybe a little" He then went to his kitchen and got some snacks. "Listen, Y/N" his voice was shakey, "I know that we made out at that party and we havent really gotten along before but what I'm trying to say is" his eyes fell to the snacks in his hands, "I actually like you." Your jaw actually hit the floor when he admitted this. Obviously your reaction didnt do much help for Renjuns nerves. He scratched the back of his head when you didnt respond and spoke again, " I know I act like I hate you and that's because you hate me, dont you? So I'm not expecting you to like me, but I just thought I'd let you know the truth."

You couldnt believe what the boy was saying. Right now he looked so shy and small compared to his usual cocky, confident self. "I dont hate you, Renjun." You tried to say but it only came out in a whisper. His face lit up. "You dont, well then I have a slight chance- shit I meant to say that in my head" Yeah, this boy is supposed to be your enemy, but you have always found him attractive. You spent years pretending to hate each other because you both thought that the other did. Maybe Renjun isnt as bad as you thought. You decided to see where this would take you. "Do you wanna watch a movie?"

Again, his face lit up as he smiled at you handing you a bag of gummy worms, "Thatd be great."

You two wound up picking out a movie that you barely remember because you're sitting very close to Renjun. You cant help but stare, and your heart flutters a little. He turns to look at you, catching you off guard, meeting eyes. This time he took the initiative and grabbed either side of your face and kissed you softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck with your hands playing with his hair. Before you knew it the movie had ended and the credits were playing. You pulled away from Renjun a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen while you had been kissing. You didnt want to leave but it was a school night and you had to get home. You smiled shyly as you stood from his couch. "I'll see you tomorrow." Renjun nodded and followed you out, watching as you drove away.

~

The next day when you entered your class, Renjun was already there, again. But this time he got up from the group of boys and came over to you. He smirked before grabbing your hand and kissing your cheek. Queue everyone's reactions ( .O.) You knew he was just playing it cool but you were still blushing like you have too much blood in your body and it happens to all be in your face. Some people claimed they called it or knew or whatever. None of that was important to you two.

Yall would go on cute dates pretty much anywhere. The park, a picnic, the arcade, literally anywhere was fun with Renjun. Sometimes you'll even go to his house just to nap and cling onto him. Due to this, Renjun bought you a big plushie to hug for whenever he cant be there for you. What I'm trying to say here is that you two are goals and cute af and so on.

#nct dream #nct #nct renjun #renjun #renjun imagines #renjun fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers renjun #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #huang renjun

[lightwardenau]

Benevolence with a WoL offered for Sacrifice?

me: this’ll be short n sweet!me, 1705 words later: huh

this is less a WoL than a Reader in general but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what else can ya do when the bug strikes

Benevolence/Reader

Seasons are different when it's eternally day, eternally mild; plants flower all year round, those that prefer the night have long since died, snow is equally unlikely under the blazing sky, and cool breezes only come from the coast.

Still, in the last ten years there's been something of a cycle--curious as it is. By now, everyone knows what it means when the eternally bright sky darkens with clouds, not night--never night--but still a difference, a respite. When thunder that shakes the very foundations of Eulmore and every settlement in Kholusia rolls in and lighting splits the sky, forking out from Mt. Gulg, it's just further confirmation that the balance of power has shifted back.

Innocence has been torn both from his throne and limb from limb yet again by Benevolence, bringing with her the rain and some small amount of shade. Not only that, but when the six-winged creature siezes sovereignty those Sin-Eaters that roam the lands are displaced to the Empty, or at the very least the few that remain are more passive, attacking only when provoked. The people have learnt to hold on tight to whatever modicum of peace they can, and this, however, spurs a new course of action to the fore in the hopes of prolonging it. Those who remember a time when they curried favour with the Sin-Eaters can't help but lean into the old ways of thought when they fret over the length of her stay before she vanishes again, and so the plan to gift the Lightwarden one of the city's number germinates.

You're chosen for the honour for a reason, though what reason is a stab in the dark on your leader's part. No-one knows what Benevolence is like, aside from the forces of nature that come with her presence to give her her name. Perhaps you sing, perhaps you dance, perhaps you paint, perhaps you write, or perhaps you're simply beautiful--regardless, they hope she likes you and in liking you will stay longer--keep Innocence from returning to exert his spoilt will from on high again. They don't tell you of the thought in the back of their minds: that you go to die. To be consumed. That you'll be the first in a long line of people just like you, fed the the Lightwarden in exchange for protection. You're hardly a fool, however. You wouldn't change your mind even if they had told you such up front--you've a desire to see the people you love safe, regardless if the cost is your freedom or your life.

And so you're draped in white silks, gold jewellery hung on your wrists, around your neck, your ankles--bare feet and aside from the drapery, bare skin. Your last meal is taken in Eulmore, in opulence, and you're allowed whatever you desire in thanks for your bravery--you take advantage of this as much as you can, but nerves will only allow you to eat so much before you excuse yourself to stare at the mountain that looms in the sky from a balcony and wonder just what exactly the creature you're to be offered to is like.

Terrifying, most likely. Especially if she can rend Innocence to shreds.

 ---

 You're deposited as far up the arm of the Talos as your escorts can take you without fear rendering them completely useless, and not for the first time you're made aware of just how impractical the white finery you're wrapped with is for climbing rock, especially in bare feet, especially in the rain--no matter how warm it is. Still, you haven't especially far to go, the others turned tail only a short while ago and already you're at the boundary line where the rain stops falling and granite becomes marble, searing white as the sky is usually. You almost have to avert your eyes before they acclimatise and instead cast your gaze around for...whatever it is you're meant to be doing next before you hear it.

Across the winding floorplan of this place there's a staircase shrouded by a gold archway, and beyond it you think you hear...sobbing?

With little else to go on and a distinct lack of Sin-Eaters present to put any further fear into you, you make your way toward the sound. It takes a little while--this place is clearly built for those with far greater stride lengths than you--but you pick your way across cool, dry marble for long enough that you're simply 'damp' and less 'soaked' by the time you reach the foot of the (blessedly normal-sized) staircase and begin to climb.

The creature you find yourself staring at the back of is larger than any Sin-Eater you've ever seen--you hazard at full height she's thirteen feet tall or thereabouts and with six white, feathered wings protruding from her back, which is toward you. She seems to be sat kneeling in a position that gives you space to roam your gaze over yalms of bare, smooth, dark skin from her spine down even as you feel the power of the light roll off her in waves. Facing away from the rest of Mt. Gulg as she is, with her head in both hands, the cries that emit from her seem somehow both heartwrenching and musical as her chest heaves with grief for something you don't know, her emotions intense enough to choke you up. Moving quietly, skin on stone, you look at her from the front--a decision  immediately regretted since her sobs halt abruptly the moment you're directly ahead of her. From this angle you can see the liquid gold of her tears overflowing between clawed fingers, and distantly you realise that with the silenced sobbing also comes silenced rain beyond Gulg.

Her hands fall away from her face sharply and you note the scar that runs though her right eyebrow, down across the acute corner of her closed eye, and ends somewhere around a sharp cheekbone. She studies you as you study her and you don't know how you can tell with her eyes firmly shut, but you know she's looking at you. Suddenly you remember exactly why you're there--so caught up were you in the mystery of this place and the Lightwarden within. 

"H--Hello." You start, for lack of anything better to say. Mercifully, she spares you further fumbling, canting her head to one side, snow white and curled hair bouncing lightly as she does so.

"What reason have you to be here?" Benevolence asks, and her voice vibrates through you in a way that weakens your knees. Her tone is an octave lower than you were expecting, her cadence measured in the manner of someone that weighs every single word before speaking, and behind it all is the chime-like sound of clear crystals against one another. It is, in a word, 'Angelic'.

"I…" You pause, wondering how best to frame this as the reality of your situation sinks in. You may die here, or you may not, and you have no idea which is worse. "I'm an offering." You steel yourself, "Or a sacrifice."

The creature regards you further for a moment before standing to her full height and towering above you in a manner that gives you an eyeful of the expanse of her bare skin, 'staring' down for a beat longer before facing the direction you know Eulmore to be in. A large, full lip curls in what you pin as a sneer as her wings shake out a little. The term 'ruffled feathers' comes to mind.

"Is that what He demanded?" The loathing that colours her voice is a surprise, but in some ways a welcome one--the enemy of my enemy and all that. You hasten to correct her.

"No!" You half-yelp, hoping she's not about to turn her ire on either Eulmore or yourself and wanting to head such a trolley of thought off at the pass. Benevolence faces you once more, frowning slightly and you take it as your cue. "We wished to thank you! For breaking the stranglehold--Innocence's tyranny. We--"

"--You wish me to stay, and take his place forever." She finishes for you and you nod once in answer after a moment's hesitation. There's another pause as she muses and you find yourself almost wishing she talked half as much as Innocence did--at least then you might have an idea of what was going through her head.

"If I'm not to your tastes, there will be others." You offer, even as you hope to be made a liar. Let this start and end with you, you hope. Benevolence continues to silently observe before she sighs, heavy and weary with a weight you feel settle leaden in your chest simply by hearing it.

"Innocence is a worm that shall always be churned back up out of the aetherial loam, sweet one." She intones, although she sounds as dissatisfied as you feel, "He is as endless as I am, no amount of...offerings will change this. I fight him because he believes he has a claim to this throne, I leave because to stay would rip this place apart when he returns. The cycle is the cycle, regardless."

"I--" Whatever you were to say dies in your throat as you tear your gaze from her closed eyelids and stare down at your hands, fingers knotting as you process this. There's no point to what you've done, Innocence shall always come back and she will always leave, and now you're stood vulnerable and alone in front of a Lightwarden with no way back. This whole thing has been an exercise in futility and you'll never be able to warn the others.

So wrapped up in these thoughts are you that you barely notice the large hand held out to you until its right in front of your face. You look back up at the Lightwarden, confusion clear as she smiles down to you, soft and with a warmth you feel in your bones, like basking in the sun.

"No need for an offering, nor a sacrifice." Benevolence's eyes open, and for the first time you bear witness to her unearthly gaze, eyes of solid gold peering down with a kindness that matches the name. "But a companion, perchance?"

#benevolence #fic #mod chai #anonymous