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vidalinav · 3 years

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Life’s a Beach (1)

I underestimated how long this fic was, so I smashed them together. I will continue just posting snippets and writing it like that (and then smashing them together), but since most of you will already have read it, I will include a bonus scene at the end. My thank you for putting up with my unconventional writing process.

Summary: Tarquin comes to town and Cassian is jealous.

Cassian doesn’t like when Tarquin visits.

Never mind the ban from the Summer Court or that at one point, blood rubies pilfer their court. Never mind that Summer crowns him holier than the seas and the sun. Cassian doesn’t like the ease in which he walks. He may not have his usual royal garb, but he glides along the Sidra. The mighty king out for a stroll.

Nesta looks like his queen.

His mate is bright and beaming, huffing laughs and smiling wide as she praises his ideas. Cassian has ideas, too.

But Nesta isn’t interested in his ideas as he follows them around. Nesta just continues smiling. Her skin glows with the sun, the apples of her cheeks turning a pretty shade of apricot as Tarquin notes the dying rays. Are you a poet Tarquin? Cassian wants to ask, but knowing the High Lord, he just might be and Nesta fucking loves poetry.

Her cheeks remain pink and Cassian resists grabbing her hand and dragging her back to the house. You’ll die of heatstroke; he might say if she protests. But no.

He won’t.

He promises to be on his best behavior.

Even so, Cassian can’t help eyeing buildings as they pass. Just break one, he urges. One and we can ban you from the Night Court. But that might mean, Nesta spending some time in Summer, with her good friend Tarquin, who makes Nesta beam like that, make her cheeks red like that.

All Cassian sees is red.

All Nesta looks at is Tarquin.

“You know, I never thought someone as young as you would be so conniving.”

Conniving? Cassian isn’t paying attention, but at the word, he’s ready to deem it insulting enough to fight Tarquin if Nesta so much as gives him a look. But Nesta only listens as Tarquin speaks. Cassian can’t even read her expression. It’s blank as she stares.

“I admire that quality,” The little high lord says.

Admire someone else, buddy.

Nesta only snorts, the words making her laugh.

The light plays with her eyes as she smirks. They look bluer today. Less silver. Cassian has to think that it has something to do with Tarquin. Tarquin who brings out the blue in Nesta’s eyes, who brings pink to her cheeks. Never mind that it probably has more to do with how bright it is today.

“You’re too smart,” he remarks, and Cassian wants to roll his eyes. Nesta is too smart, too smart to be hanging around with some pompous flatterer. “No wonder you’re good at this game.”

“What game?” She asks, lightly, but even Cassian can hear the caution. Her voice slowing as if coaxing an answer from his lips.

“The game we all play. These situations that have us playing with life whether we want to or not.” Nesta lilts her head curiously, waiting for further explanation and Cassian waits too, because he’s not sure he understands. Tarquin looks like he’d rather not speak of it, but he continues even so.

“Fae are good at games–invented them really. Court politics, morality, marriage, and bargains. I have to believe you’re good at them. Not just because I’ve seen you, but because I know what Eris offered as soon as he had you in his arms… It’s always the smart ones who win these games–the most clever.”

Nesta rolls her eyes as if his words offer no great importance, “It’s never the smart ones who win.” She counters. “Not the ones who are strongest or the most magically gifted or the one who smiles the sweetest while she glides across the floor. There is no game that you can win by being the most beautiful person in the room… No game I’d want to play anyways.”

“Then who does win?” He urges. Tarquin almost sounds desperate for the answer, and Cassian has to wonder if Nesta has woven a spell around him too just as much as Eris.

“Whoever’s luckiest,” Nesta shrugs simply, “So there’s no point in trying so hard… We all end up in the exact place we were always supposed to be in.”

She doesn’t sound happy about that either, and something about the tone makes Cassian want to hold her close. Make her remember that it’s a joy to be here. To be together, even if it is with another male who skin beams with the summer sun.

I’m lucky to have you.

He hopes she knows.

“Then you’re lucky,” Tarquin notes, “And blessed. You’re blessed and lucky. Smart and clever.” He laughs as if brushing the seriousness off, “Is that why you’re so good at cards? Azriel was moping last night. I thought that had something to do with you.”

Nesta lifts a casual shoulder, a soft smile playing on her lips. Cassian thinks even that is a play–some move she knows will help her counter his attack. “Azriel loses because he wants to win and it’s easy to win against someone who’s already shown their cards.”

“Motivations are everything.”

“Yes,” Nesta nods frankly, “so why are you here?”

Cassian wants to know, too.

Actually, Cassian wants to push him into the Sidra and see if pretty fishman can float, but he’ll take Nesta’s verbal spar in any case. If he runs back to the House with his tail between his legs, Cassian will consider it a win for the both of them. His lovely strategist.

But Tarquin doesn’t run. Cassian doesn’t think Tarquin will ever run from Nesta and that simple fact makes him furious. That there is another male in this world who will see Nesta and not balk, who will know Nesta and not grimace.

Cassian is not the only male who stays. Not for the power or the beauty or the poise, but because underneath all of that is a female who can conquer as much as she can tame. Whose voice sounds like the sea, whose eyes are crystal clear waters, whose mind rages against the tide.

Tarquin breathes in ocean air.

Every morning, he fishes on the coast. Every evening, he sleeps to the humming sea. Who would know Nesta better than someone who dreams of waves?

So, it doesn’t come as any surprise when Tarquin looks to him, as she asks her question. Why are you here?

“Because I want to know you.”

A fool’s choice.

“I’m not foolish enough to claim you,” He adds, “and I’m not foolish enough to think you’ll ever be claimed, even if you have a mate. No offense, Cassian.”

Offense taken.

“I’m not even foolish enough to think I can even begin to know who you are or what you’ve been through… But when you looked at me that day in the Summer Court, and asked me to help your family, offered me anything that you could give me alone.”

What? Cassian looks to Nesta, but she promptly ignores him, staring at Pompous Prince Tarquin.

“I’d never seen anyone want so badly. I wanted to know what that felt like. Know what stirred so deeply in your heart that you looked at me like you’d give me the entire world for just one yes.”

Tarquin raises a shoulder and Cassian tries not to swallow so loudly. He thinks he might have to shove a fist down his throat to stop his screaming, “You’re a question I keep mulling over and I’ve yet to figure out what the answer is. I don’t even know if I could know the answer if it stared me in the eyes, but I would like to learn. To feel half of what you feel, to learn how to love so truly.”

Cassian replays her answer as he sleeps. He goes over it and over it and over it again. At some point, he wakes her up in the middle of the night, shaking her shoulder.

“Nesta,” he whispers, “Nesta? What did you mean?”

His mate only groans, her brows furrowing, as she burrows further into blankets. Cassian knows he’s playing in dangerous territory, but he can’t stop thinking about. It’s driving him insane.

“Nesta, what did you mean?”

He says it once louder, shaking her again. Nesta only juts out her elbow, hitting him in the rib. Cassian holds in the heavy moan as he clutches his chest, and Nesta settles in her sleep.

Still, Cassian can’t give up now. “When you told Tarquin you’d think about it, what did you mean? Nesta?”

Cassian grasps her shoulder, shaking her lightly, “Nesta!”

“What?” Nesta yells, leaning up so fast, she almost hits her head on his chin. “What do you keep yelling about? I’m trying to sleep!”

Even furious and half-asleep, she looks beautiful. The strap of her nightgown slips down one shoulder, and he trails the movement as if his own fingers push it down. Nesta crosses her arms, and he swallows down the want. Not an appropriate time, Cassian.

She raises a brow, “Well?”

“I wanted to talk,” he says simply.

Nesta looks to the clock on the wall, glaring at him exasperated. “At two in the morning?”

“Good a time as any.”

She looks mad that much is true, and Cassian wishes to appease.

His mate is tired, so he’ll fluff her pillows, rub her shoulders while she relaxes enough to tell him exactly what she means when she tells Tarquin she’ll think about it. As if his I want to get to know you is an offer she can’t refuse.

But as he fluffs her pillows, Cassian can only think of Tarquin.

He would have waited to speak to her, prioritizing Nesta’s health over his wants. Just this morning… or yesterday morning, the High Lord of Summer makes sure to ask Nesta if she’s eaten as she reads her book on the couch–a fact he finds rude to say the least–and when she says no, he offers to make breakfast for her. Oh, so generous of him. Never mind that they have a House who cooks their meals.

Cassian scoffs as he thinks about it. What High Lord plays chef? And who is he to ask if Nesta’s eaten as if his mate isn’t being taken care of?

He yanks at the pillow, beats at it, punches it. He can’t help but imagine Tarquin’s face. He can see feathers jutting from the cushion, and still he hits. The cloth lays in the cinders on the bed before he stops.

Nesta sighs at the mess, grabbing one of the pillows from his side, clasping it to her head.

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks.

“Hoping I suffocate enough to pass out.”

Her voice is muffled, and he grasps at the pillow. Her hair is a ruffled mess. It splays out on the pillow in waves. Cassian can’t help but breathe at the sight of her and the sound is a sigh of relief.

She’s his… Or as much as Nesta can be his.

She chose him.

Nesta with her matted hair, the side of her cheek pink from where she pushes up against the pillow, her silver nightgown making her skin glow in the light of the moon, chooses him.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

Cassian rubs at his face, feeling all too shameful. “I’m sorry. I just–” He takes in their bed, feathers littering the duvet. Suddenly, he feels like a little kid. What was he doing beating a pillow like that? Waking Nesta in the middle of the night?

“You’re jealous,” Nesta says.

Her voice echoes in the room, and Cassian frowns at the words. Of course, he’s jealous. That much is obvious. He’s always jealous.

Nesta is beautiful and powerful and smiles like she grants the sun its light, and males flock to her like moths. Not just any males either but stupid princes and arrogant High Lords and stupid, arrogant Tarquin!

Nesta only grabs at the pillow in his hands, setting it under her head as she closes her eyes. He waits for her to speak, but he can only hear the ticking of the clock, on and on as time passes.

Nesta doesn’t say a thing.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say. You’re jealous and you go back to sleep.”

The pretty pink of her lips purse, but she doesn’t even open her eyes as she says, “If you were looking for comfort, you shouldn’t have woken me up at two in the morning.”

Well… damn.

Cassian settles back at his side, crossing his arms as he stares at the ceiling. He’s one less pillow down, but that doesn’t bother him much. It’s the thoughts that don’t quiet even for a second. Stupid mating bond.

That thought though has him looking to Nesta. No, he loves that mating bond. He loves her. And even if Tarquin wants to impede himself like a wall between them, Cassian will still love Nesta Archeron.

He closes his eyes repeating those words as if they’re a lullaby that will let him drift off to sleep. I love Nesta Archeron. I love Nesta Archeron. I love Nesta Archeron.

The words don’t comfort him even a little.

But Nesta sets her head on his chest. She tucks herself in to the crook of his arm and Cassian squeezes gently–he tries not to hold on too tight.

She must sense his surprise. Whether that be from the bond or because Nesta knows him like that back of her hand, he doesn’t know. But she blinks one eye open, looking at him with bright grey and all his fears are assuaged.

“You should hold me since you woke me up.”

Cassian can only blink, nodding his head as she wraps his arms around her, and he settles in. He can hear her heart beating and he can hear her soft breathing and Cassian can go to sleep to this. He can.

Cassian will hold her until she tells him let go. Cassian will not let go.

Still… he can’t help it.

“I bet Tarquin can’t hold you like this.”

Cassian only gets mouth full of feathers.

Tarquin tells Rhys that he’s going to stay for two weeks. During this time, they’ll talk of treaties, draw up some plan of trade, some easy comings and goings of Night Court and Summer Court residences. Cassian tells Rhys that they don’t need a treaty. Throw him out now, he thinks.

“Is something going on with you?” Rhys asks, leaning back in his chair, ever the High Lord. Cassian is starting to hate High Lords.

Cassian crosses his arms, grinding his teeth. He’s in the sitting room in the estate. Amren solves a puzzle as if nothing about this meeting is important at all. Mor talks to Feyre by the dining room, gossiping rather than listening to Rhys moan about Tarquin and peace treaties. Nesta, not that she goes to these meetings, is out doing gods know what with Tarquin who wants to view the city.

Take me to all your favorite places, he says. Cassian rolls his eyes just thinking about the way Nesta’s light up. Bookstores and restaurants and museums. She knows them all. Nesta goes with him, first. Why does Tarquin care? Is he planning on buying a winter house in Velaris?

Cassian’s blood runs cold at the thought.

“He’s jealous,” Azriel says, throwing a scroll at Rhys which he easily catches.

Mor’s head jerks up at the word, even Feyre smirks with interest.

“No,” Cassian dismisses, but he’s never been a good liar. His voice pitches high and Rhys eyes him with humor, “I… just think that we don’t need Summer Court resources, when we have an abundance of them already.”

“You’re also banned,” Amren comments helpfully, “I would say that makes you the most biased towards these dealings.”

“Your boyfriend is from the Summer Court; wouldn’t that make you the most biased?” Mor asks. Amren simply shrugs.

“I mean have we considered that. That male banned me and now we’re opening our borders?”

“Our borders have always been open,” Feyre says, not so helpfully. The look she gives him has him sinking in his seat. “Also, you wrecked the central magistrate.”

“They’ve rebuilt it,” Cassian argues.

“You mates are all the same,” Amren groans loudly, “She’s not going to fuck Tarquin.”

“Shut up Amren!”

“That’s the best you can do? I’m sure Tarquin’s more eloquent.”

“Amren,” Feyre says, giving her that motherly reprimanding look. An expression that Cassian supposes comes with the motherhood package.

It does the trick.

Amren sneers, but she settles back where she sits on the floor, picking at her puzzle. Cassian has the sudden urge to knock the pieces off the table, just for the comment alone.

“Nesta loves you, Cassian,” Feyre says, her voice light and calming. Too bad it doesn’t calm him, and he doesn’t want to talk about this now even if she goads. “What’s there to be jealous of?”

Cassian already knows this answer. He knows this answer this morning, the other night, the minute summer enters Velaris spring. It’s not that Nesta loves him. Cassian knows Nesta loves him. It’s that he lets his guard down. He forgets the most crucial information of all–

Nesta is easily lovable.

Sure, she might give a sneer or two at someone who annoys her well enough or beat the living daylights out of someone who threatens those she loves, but Nesta is an easily lovable dork.

She laughs at stupid things and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s a goofball! He swears she knows every book in that library. She absorbs information like a sponge, will rant for hours about everything she learns. Her thoughtfulness knows no bounds. They’ll be off at the market and if she sees something that looks like Gwyn or Emerie or himself or whoever, she has to have it. She has to give it to them. They go to get cinnamon buns and she orders enough for the priestesses. She remembers everyone’s birthday. She learns the name of every patron and their families and their language and their holidays. It’s not hard to love Nesta.

Who would not love Nesta?

So yes, he has something to be jealous of.

“You look stressed,” Mor notes, her eyebrows raising.

Amren nods, “You look like you’re going to fight someone.”

“Or puke,” Azriel adds.

“Just don’t fight Tarquin,” Rhys concludes, “I can’t ban you from the court, but I can certainly make sure you’re away in Illyria while he’s here.”

“You guys are really supportive, you know that?”

“Well at least we’re not trying to steal you’re girl,” Mor teases.

“Yet.”

Cassian gives her a glare, but she only laughs a bright sound.

“I’ve never seen you jealous,” she says.

“I’m not jealous.”

Azriel raises a pointed finger, “what about that one time you threw that rock at that window?”

“Or when you broke that male’s nose,” Rhys suggests.

Amren rolls her eyes, setting down a piece of her puzzle, “How about the last time we all went to a bar.”

Mor, Azriel, and Rhys look to each other, contemplating the words. Cassian watches as they nod their heads slowly.

“Oh yeah.”

“You’re right.”

“You were jealous then, too.”

“I was not jealous,” Cassian insists.

Thankfully, Feyre–sweet Feyre offers him relief. She raises her hands, and Cassian thinks he’s glad to have such a loyal sister-in-law. “Guys, he was not jealous.”

Thank you, Feyre.

“He was territorial.”

The others voice their agreement before Cassian has a chance to speak–to defend himself from this defamation of character.

Not that he can defend himself.

He remembers that day all too well…

It’s the first Nesta goes to a bar with them. The first time she goes to a bar in a while, and she’s nervous. But she looks beautiful. So damn beautiful that he thinks he might suggest staying in. She has on a black dress with these tiny straps and a necklace that makes him want to trace her neck with his tongue until she’s mewling and soft and pliant. But she’s nervous, so he only kisses her forehead.

We don’t have to drink he says. I won’t drink either, he promises.

Cassian turns out to be a bold-faced liar.

He’s drunk by the time the first band plays. He keeps gobbling down the drinks. Nesta gets them for free. Martinis, vodka sodas, gin, and whiskey. All manners of shots. Every alcohol keeps floating her way. The males seem to think they only need to find the right one. The one Nesta prefers and they take it as a challenge. He remembers asking if she even needed their money all those months ago, and she only shrugs a shoulder. Haughty and much, much too beautiful.

Nesta offers to send them back, but Cassian gulps them down one by one before she can even call over the waitress. I can take it, he says.

Once again, Cassian is made a liar.

They have to carry him out of that bar. At some point, he remembers flying over the city as Rhys and Azriel chase him through the streets.

The only way they get him down is by Nesta calling for him. An easy trick, he thinks. If they asked him, they should have tried that first. Of course, he answers his mate when she calls.

When he meets her, crawling back with his wings drooping to the concrete, Nesta only opens her arms as if she wants him to hug her. Cassian hugs her. He… climbs on top of her, really.

But she combs her fingers through his hair and Cassian hunches over to lay his head on her shoulder and the next thing he knows… he’s lying in bed, a glass of water and some headache powder on the side table.

She’d hit that nerve in his neck.

Cassian wants to scoff just thinking about it.

“Where is Nesta anyway?”

The question has Cassian grinding his teeth, he can hear the noise in his ears. With fucking Tarquin.

“She’s out,” he says instead.

“Out where?”

“Out to museums,” He lists thinking of all the places Nesta enjoys. “Or picnics.” All the places that Nesta will smile at. “Or restaurants.” All places Nesta will bubble up with laughter, that she’ll blush with glee, that she’ll gaze at wistfully with that bastard Tarquin. “Or maybe romantic boat rides. The one in that fucking swan.”

Cassian doesn’t even know he grabs on to the throw pillow, but the next thing he knows the cushion is torn in half and the stuffing falls out like billowing snow.

The others look at him strangely, but it’s Feyre who takes a cautious step towards him, taking the pillow from his hands.

“And when will they be done?”

Cassian rolls his eyes, looking to the clock. “I meet them in a half an hour. We’re getting lunch,” he mocks in a voice that doesn’t sound anything like the High Lord of Summer.

Feyre hums in answer, her eyes widening innocently. Cassian stares in suspicion.

He watches as the others look to each other, too. Azriel to Mor. Mor to Rhys. Rhys to Feyre. Feyre to Amren. And then all of them look back to him.

It’s Mor who bounces brightly, “I want to go!”

“I’m going, too,” Rhys announces.

Feyre crosses her arms, “You can’t go. I’m going! Someone has to watch the baby.”

“Let Nuala and Cerridwen watch the baby! I’m supporting my brother.”

“I’m supporting my sister!”

“Oh, for cauldron’s sake,” Amren groans, “just bring the boy!”

Cassian frowns as they start packing up around him, yelling at each other for their coats and… baby carriers.

Amren only pauses to laugh at the look on his face.

“It could be worse, you know,” She says, her voice something she probably thinks sounds soft and comforting, “Tarquin could have already made some move. What do males say these days? Oh right, I want to get to know you or something equally as vomit inducing.”

Cassian simply picks up the throw pillow to his left and screams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS SCENE 1:

The evening of their first outing, Cassian can’t button his shirt. He should've taken that as his first sign that things would inevitably go wrong.

“Are the buttons winning?” Nesta asks lightly. Cassian huffs a curse, hiking the shirt over his head. It gets stuck around his neck and he groans out a response.

Fine, he thinks. I give up.

Nesta laughs at his slumping shoulders.

“It’s the wings,” He says, muffled through the cloth. His wings drift up and down as if huffing themselves, showing her that they too are thoroughly annoyed. “This shirt isn’t made for Illyrians.”

That’s a lie, but Nesta only hums.

“Well... as much as I like you topless and I do like you topless.” Cassian can feel her hands trailing up his ribs and he squirms at the ticklish touch. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for public outings.”

“You mean you’d be jealous,” He breaths. Nesta pulls the shirt down, unbuttoning and buttoning it again. His mate makes it seem far too easy, and she smirks up at him when the shirt is fully on. Her lips painted in red.

The fresh air is cool in his lungs without the noose of dress ware, and he winds his arms around her, breathing in her scent. “All those females looking. Males too. What would you do if they propositioned me?” He urges, holding her closer, bringing her hips to his. “Cassian, Cassian, take me in your arms.”

He dips her low as if they’ve finished some waltz, and lifts her high until her leg is around his waist. That’s when he notices the slit in her gown, running all the way up her thigh.

“They’ll chase me through the streets, you know. I’m a very hot commodity.”

Nesta doesn’t even laugh. In fact, she merely lifts her eyes, her expression blank in that very Nesta way of hers.

She fingers the collar of his shirt and Cassian can’t help but follow her hands. He thinks of every place those fingers can touch. “You wouldn’t be so difficult to catch. All it’d take is some buttons.”

Cassian roars with laughter and Nesta smiles at that. A small turn of her lips.

She turns back to the vanity, though he can’t say she’s not already perfect. He’s about to say so too, but that’s when he notices the dress.

It’s hugs her every curve... the way Cassian only wishes to hug her. The black brings out the gold in her hair, in her sun-kissed skin. There’s a slit, Cassian knows, and tiny, tiny straps.

Cassian moves towards her without a second thought. How anyone can think when they look at Nesta Archeron, he doesn’t know. He grasps her arms, dipping his head low. He places a reverent kiss on her shoulder and Nesta looks at him through the mirror, blinking up at him with those big, magnificent eyes.

They’ve never fucked in front of mirror before.

Cassian makes a note.

“You know, we can always skip this... thing. Who would even notice if we're gone?”

“Considering it’s for us, I’d say plenty.”

She says the words with enough disdain that Cassian frowns at the tone. She looks away as he catches her eyes.

“Do you not want to go?” He asks, dropping his hands.

“I want to get this night over with,” she says, with a certain bite that has him backtracking. He runs over the day and all things she can be mad at him for, but he finds nothing, so he doesn’t understand.

The night is for them.

To celebrate her more than anyone. There’s been so many celebrations for her these past months as if they’re making up for lost time. Cassian doesn’t mind. Nesta should be celebrated. And Nesta doesn’t seem to mind, though she’s rather quiet during those outings.

That’s not unusual.

He used to think Azriel was the most introverted of them all. But Nesta beats him by miles.

“Why--”

“I just don’t like that we always have these. Why can’t everyone just leave us alone?”

Cassian stares at her reddening skin. The way her eyes dart back and forth, trying not to look to him. His frown deepens at the way she hides.

He thought they were past this.

Cassian is the first person to admit that he doesn’t know Nesta. Not in the way he wants to and Nesta seldom tells him much. But he at least knows her well enough to know that when she gets upset, it’s rarely what she says it is.

So Cassian takes inventory.

They’re going to a get-together. They’ve done that before. They’re wearing formal clothes. They’ve done that before. They’re meeting the same people. Yes, that’s correct. The only thing that’s different is... the location?

“You have a problem with the restaurant,” he guesses.

Nesta merely lies her chin on her palm.

“It’s new... they have good food... so I hear. It’s got great music, which you like. It’s got a bar,” Cassian’s gaze whips to her, “Is it the bar?”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but he can see the way her cheeks flush a bright pink. The color softens something inside of him, makes him want to hug her and hold her and get rid of every bad thought in her head.

The bar. Of course. He sees the way she cringes at alcohol, the way she shifts in her seat when a dinner turns into an after party. She doesn’t even like most of their holidays for that reason, because they all get drunk and she sits in the corner not knowing what to do. Nesta hates being embarrassed.

She can drink if she wants, he tells her, it’s her choice. They won’t judge her for it, he affirms, but... Cassian can’t guarantee that and Nesta knows that’s a lie. Nesta doesn’t even touch liquor.

Cassian feels his chest start to sink and he must show it on his face, because she scoffs.

It’s bad enough she doesn’t want to go to the city most days. She’s told him it’s because she’s scared to face who she was, afraid that she’ll be back there soon enough. Cassian can’t reassure her well enough. We can face it together, he says. We can face it all. But it’s been baby steps and these outings are the only times she pushes her limits.

Cassian shifts her around, laying his hands on her cheeks, rubbing at the heated skin. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to be a coward.”

Cassian shakes his head, “you’re not going to be one if you go and you’re not going to be one if you stay.”

Nesta sighs, and Cassian kisses her forehead because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know how to instill in Nesta that she’s the strongest, bravest person he knows. How does he convince her of a truth that’s so obvious?

She isn’t going to change her mind that much he knows, but damn him if he let’s her wallow alone.

“I won’t drink,” He offers, “We can play cards, dance a little... I promise I’ll try not to step on your toes again.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself,” She says, her lips pouting in that way that makes him want to kiss her nose and her cheek and every place that he can touch. “To have fun.”

“You are fun and I enjoy myself plenty with you.”

Little does Cassian know that the enjoyment of the night is him knocking back barrels of drinks, stripping to his underwear, and running head first through the streets.

To be continued...

LOL. This fic is insane. Because not only do you get snippets before you get the final chapter, you get snippets in the final chapters. Snip-ception.

Tagged: @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger, @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @drielecarla, @generalnesta

I think that’s it. Also know that if you asked to be tagged on snippets, I am going to tag you MANY TIME throughout the day... so be cautious about that.

#Life's a Beach #my generic a** title #whatever I had to move on from it #nessian #nessian fanfiction #cassian #vidalinav writes #vidalinav #Nesta archeron #Tarquin #my Tarquin fic

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ticklytums · 3 years

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It Begins With A Smile

(Luz runs into an unwanted visitor on a potion scavenging attempt, but things take an interesting, childish turn when a weakness is accidentally exposed and Golden Guard learns of a new way to mess with the human.

Warning: Contains fluff and the adorableness of two traumatized children getting to act like children and slowly giggle their way into friendship! Not intended to be GoldenLuz but can be if you want it to be)

“Crammity…”

Sure. It figured. Every time Luz was on her own she seemed to fall into some sort of terrible situation. And this one seemed to include warping mushrooms that she never seemed to be able to grasp before they vanished at her fingertips. Why did all these witch potions include the most unconventional, hard to get ingredients?

“Would you get over here!” Luz hissed as she clawed at one of the flighty mushrooms, before watching the thing vanish and appear once more inches from her. This wasn’t…technically legal, that the young witchling knew. Then again, being under Eda’s mentorship basically screamed ‘I do illegal things all the time!’ Warping mushrooms weren’t meant to be picked until they ripened some more, but…this potion called for ‘young shrooms.’

It’s fine. It could be worse.

“Ah, up to more mischief I see! Who knew a little human could be such trouble…”

And it just got worse.

Luz’s eyes slid shut in absolute dread. She refused to turn her head towards the source of the voice that was just radiating smug teenager energy. Nope, she wasn’t dealing with that jerk’s antics today. Forget the mushrooms. Eda could wait for her ingredients.

Picking up Eda’s staff, the witchling immediately turned around and started her path home—only to yelp as she nearly slammed face first into the Golden Guard.

“It seems you just can’t help being on the wrong end of the law, can you?” the smug prodigy sing-songed. “You know it isn’t legal to pick those mushrooms yet, right?”

“I’m NOT picking them!” Luz growled as she tried to step past the guard. “Now get out of my way.”

The older boy didn’t seem intent to do such, instead merely blocking the girl with his staff as she attempted to advance. He prodded her pointedly with his mechanical staff. “So what are you doing here then?”

As the staff made the blunt and yet gentle connection with her belly, Luz almost felt a squeak slip out. It took a moment to compose herself. “I don’t have to answer you.”

“Yeeees. You. Do!” the guard chirped and he punctuated each word with a light prod against her. Every time he did Luz seemed to suck in her breath and twitch. The prodigy blinked at the response, watching the human as she tensed from the jab of his staff, and looked like she was gritting her teeth quite a bit.

“Oh, what? Am I hurting you?” he scoffed disdainfully at the thought. Humans were pathetic, but Titan, he at least assumed the girl that stood up against Emperor Belos and took a couple good blows from both of them wasn’t so frail. He jabbed her lightly a few more times. “I know your kind is weak, but-“

He was cut off by the small giggling snort that burst from the teen before she could stop it, and she clasped a hand hurriedly over her mouth, before shoving the staff away with her other hand. “Would you knock it off!” Luz snapped, reining in control of her giggles.

The older boy tilted an eyebrow, perplexed. That wasn’t the reaction he expected to provoke… Curious, Golden Guard jabbed at her again, only this time he made the poke deliberately softer, and wiggled the end of the staff a bit. The ticklish jolt made Luz let off a laugh. And he did it again, smirking in delight when she kept trying to get away from it.

Well, that was…an interesting reaction. Living the life he had, Golden Guard hadn’t exactly been granted the luxury to engage in juvenile play, and he had little experience with tickling.

But that was about to change.

“Well, well, well…” the prodigy taunted the other indignant and increasingly nervous teenager. “What an interesting and may I say rather adorable development. You humans are just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Luz finally snapped to attention and the guard had only a millisecond to react as balls of flames were tossed towards his face, crackling passed him. The boy effortlessly dodged them and his staff deflected a few icicles with a chuckle. His amusement was just fueling Luz’s annoyance.

“Oh now now,” the guard admonished teasingly as he simply avoided her little tantrum by holding her back with his staff. “No need to throw such a fuss, I’m just playing around!”

Luz gave a growl and shot a murderous glare as much as she could to the older kid. “And what after that? Going to cart me off to Emperor Belos, are you?”

“Hmm, well I suppose I should!” the boy said with a sigh as his maroon eyes sparkled mischievously under the golden mask. “But where would the fun be in that already, hm?” After all, he wasn’t done experimenting.

Luz growled and positioned an ice glyph on the ground, stepping upwards so she could launch up into the sky. The prodigy was impressed and barrel rolled out of target range as several fireballs singed the red grass. With a crimson flash he disappeared, and Luz let off a squeal as she felt a poke against her side.

“Would you-!” Furiously, the girl spun around—only to see the flickers of magic disappearing as he vanished again. And the moment she turned, he was back as his fingers ghosted over both sides.

A laugh tumbled out of the teenaged girl as her knees bent slightly in instinct and she furiously took a swipe—only to smack uselessly at empty air. “-fihihight me normally, you-you jerk!”

The Golden Guard appeared back in his original spot and gave an amused laugh. “Oh, I could…but it’s much more fun to mess with ya!” He watched the human sift through her pockets frantically.

“Well I’m not in the mood to be messed with!” the girl snapped. She rose Eda’s staff but before it could connect with the jerk’s head, he disappeared in a flickering streak of red light. “Huh? Wh-ah!” And then reappeared with an arm having hoisted her up off the ground.

“I’ve noticed,” Golden Guard responded smugly. “I suppose I have to enact my duty and punish someone who would dare to harm an official of the royal court.” His smirk grew when he felt the girl tense, before the frantic kicking resumed.

“Let go of me, you creep! I’ll-I’ll burn that ugly Halloween mask off your face!”

“You don’t think I’ve noticed you’ve run out of glyphs?” the older teen responded mischievously, and he laughed as the color drained from her face. “Yeeeah, I don’t think you’ll be doing much, human! Ah, except maybe laughing yourself to insanity.”

Luz’s eyes widened but before she could snap anything back she felt the gentle wiggle of fingers trace along her side. “N-no!” The witchling let off a string of Spanish curses as she struggled not to burst into laughter. That attempt failed when the boy’s fingers switched the target area to her belly and grinned when laughter began to bubble from her.

“Well your kind is just full of sensitivity! And wiggles!” he practically crooned at the poor girl, who at this point was just a laughing ball. He watched in amusement as she attempted to curl her legs up and limit the access to her tummy, but he easily maneuvered back to it.

“S-stohahap!” Luz squealed frantically as she was reduced to embarrassing snorts and hearty peals of laughter as his fingers skittered everywhere. She kicked against the ground and tried to fumble out her threats, but it was useless and tears pricked at her eyes.

This was such an unexpected and entertaining turn of events from the dreary day the guard was expecting, he’d have to thank the human later. Despite her earlier attack on him, the prodigy felt no inclination to harm her. To do so would ruin the fun! And he rather liked this little game, toying with the younger kid as a cat might with a mouse.

“Never really got to experience this growing up. What’s it like, human?”

Luz’s hiccups and wriggles had finally granted her some leeway as she managed to pry an arm free. Fine! So that’s the way he wanted to play? “Well why don’t you see for your-SELF!” And suddenly her spare hand plunged towards the older kid’s ribs.

The effect was absolutely instant.

“Wh-ahahahat!?” The teenager let off a giggling yelp as he stumbled, and it gave Luz the perfect opportunity to twist around and lunge furiously at the boy. She didn’t really think about running at the moment, too intent on delivering back what was just served to her. However, even she didn’t expect the squeaky laughter that burst from the guard as she dug into his ribs.

The older boy’s genuine laugh was so…bubbly and boyish, sounding ten years younger than he was. It was riddled with snorts already and despite herself Luz couldn’t help the way her lips tilted up a bit.

“Wow dude, your laugh is ridiculous. You sound like a pig.”

“I-I do not!” the boy attempted to snap, his laughter reaching a new octave as she drilled into his sides. “I’m totally dignified!” When her hands plunged towards his tummy he squeaked and curled up. This time Luz actually laughed.

“Oh yeah, totally dignified. So, who can’t take it now, bird face?” She switched the scribbles to softly ghosting his sides, and that seemed to drive him even more wild. The poor kid attempted a spell, and Luz watched in great amusement as the magic barely made a spark before he lost his concentration. In his struggles his mask had actually slipped off his face, giving Luz a full view for the first time of this kid.

She knew he was a ‘genius teen prodigy’ but for the first time she actually got to see the kid like her, with his boyish and slightly chubby cheeks and a face of youth just as much as it was one of trauma. Watching his face crinkle up in an almost joyful fashion made Luz nearly forget who it was she was dealing with.

“H-human unhahahand mehehe! I demand you to or you’ll saHAHAFFER THE-!” But he couldn't finish that threat as the laughter cut him off. Luz’s hands were clawing at his stomach and had found a rhythm that was driving him up the wall.

“The great teen prodigy, taken down by a little tickling! From a human!” Luz teased the boy. “Wait until I tell Eda! Oh no, better yet! Wait until I tell Lilith!”

“N-not if I have anything to say a-about it!” Golden Guard growled as he finally managed to reach out and tweak at Luz’s side.

“Ah!” Luz let off a giggling yelp as her body faltered trying to keep the older kid pinned down. She tried to jerk towards the side to avoid his grab, but it was making her wobble, and threaten to tumble off of him. “Y-you’re just a sore loser that can’t handle thahat he’s being beaten by a human!”

Both of their staffs were in easy reach and both witchlings easily could have grabbed for their actual weapons, but neither seemed inclined to do so. If anything, they seemed to have forgotten their hostility only moments prior in the wake of this bizarre game of trying to out tickle the other.

“Beaten?” the guard scoffed through his giggles as his hands suddenly locked around the girl’s wrists in an attempt to overpower her. “Y-you’re giving yourself a generous compliment, human!” He shoved against Luz, who was also pushing against his arms now.

“I am, and I’m also gonna give you a dose of THIS!” Luz smirked, her hands darting up under the older teen’s arms. Her eyes widened in shock at the explosive reaction that invoked, and she watched him desperately dig his elbows into his sides to try and protect the sensitive spot. His kicking was just wild now.

“N-NAHAHAHA! S-STAHAHAP!”

Luz couldn’t help it. Despite the fact not a finger was touching her, she laughed genuinely. “Wooow, okay I didn’t expect you to go that nuts.” Found his worst spot it seemed. “I guess it has to be pretty bad if someone as proud as yourself is actually willing to beg for mercy!” That evil grin widened, like a mischievous younger sister. “And I’m not gonna give it.”

The sixteen year old was laughing helplessly now as he twisted about to try and get away from Luz’s mischievous and playful little pokes. She was evilly prodding and jabbing anywhere she could reach, from his tummy to his sides, and back up under his arms. “Do you give up yet?”

“I’m goHONNA FEED YOU TO A DE-DEMON!” the guard squealed, tears of mirth in his eyes. A flailing hand waved around until it found her tummy to poke, invoking a squeak from Luz.

“Ah! Ahaha, hey!” Luz grappled with the hands, and by now the two were just…a giggling mess. Both were just laughing, ticklish kids that seemed to have forgotten this was even a battle to begin with and were treating it as way more of a game now.

“You’re not gonna win this fight with me, dude! I’ve been having tickle fights with my Mami since I was little!” And had decimated everyone at the owl house at least once by now.

The teenager laughed as he kept trying to pin the younger kid. “Yeah? Well I’m the Golden Guard, so I’m stronger than you!”

“You sure about that??”

Their bizarre and adorable tickle battle went on for another good couple minutes, the two putting aside their animosity as they just let themselves indulge in being children for once, without thinking about the opposing sides they were on, or the trauma they’d been through. Both kids were breathless by the end of it. Luz barely even remembered she was supposed to be out here collecting mushrooms, or that she was essentially playing with her enemy.

“I…totally won that, human,” the boy panted out smugly, and he yelped a bit as Luz shoved him back down to the ground. He was still so caught off guard he hadn’t even seen it coming.

“You didn’t win anything. You jerk.” She rolled her eyes but after a moment offered a hand to help him up. “…Wait, what were we even trying to win?”

He seemed just as perplexed, eyes looking around slowly as if he was trying to find some explanation. A flustered look came to his face and his maroon eyes narrowed at Luz as she gave a small snort.

“Well regardless!” he went on haughtily, as if he hadn’t just been a giggling mess a moment ago. “I hope you’ve learned not to mess with a royal guard. Unfortunately it didn’t appear as if the younger teenager looked the least bit intimidated. In fact she merely smirked.

“Oh you mean the royal guard that was just giggling and squealing like a five year old girl?” Luz laughed as the teenager scowled in fury and his blush deepened. “Yeah, I definitely won’t ‘mess’ with you again,” the kid teased.

Golden Guard grunted a bit as his fingers twitched. A look of turmoil crossed his face as he kept staring at the human. It was no use. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore. Technically she hadn’t been before but he at least knew she was wary of his presence. …That wasn’t the case now.

“Well…” The prodigy hopped up onto his staff and began to rise up into the air. “This was a warning, you know.” The staff flew closer to her and the butt of it bopped her in the stomach. “Next time I won’t be so nice, human.”

“Luz.”

The boy frowned. “Huh?”

“My name, it’s Luz.” Luz crossed her arms and lifted a brow. “You could at least dignify me with my real name, you know.” She watched him blink. “So what can I call you then?”

The older teen turned away at her imploring eyes as he once again attempted to harden the proverbial walls of his armor that this stupid human had begun to chip at today. “Golden Guard,” he muttered, and didn’t miss the way Luz’s shoulders seemed to slightly sag in disappointment. After a moment of consideration, his staff lit up.

Before Luz realized it, she had a small handful of warping mushrooms and she looked to the boy.

“Consider it a small gesture of goodwill,” he told her simply and he ignored the tiny smile she was giving him. “The mushrooms are over populated this year anyway. …Don’t lean too much into this. My mercy was a one time thing.”

Luz laughed softly and gave her strange adversary a wayward smile. “Right. …Uh…thanks.”

“Try to keep yourself out of trouble for once…Luz.”

The kid stuck her tongue out at him, and it earned a small look of amusement from the other. “Yeah, whatever. See you later then, I guess.” And then he was gone. Luz’s grip on the small mushrooms tightened. “…Golden Guard.”

#toh #the owl house #golden guard #luz #toh fanfic #toh tickle #the owl house tickling #ticklish!luz #ticklish!goldenguard #ITS DONE #ENJOY

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onestowatch · 3 years

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Aidan Bissett Wants You to Know It’s Okay to Be Alone [Q&A]

Photo: Brooke James

Aidan Bissett’s sunny and effortless disposition contrasts the chaotic ode to classic rock that is his latest track “Dumped.” The introspective and cathartic nature of his latest offering speaks to age-old feelings of heartbreak while doubling as an optimistic reminder that cloudy days cannot last forever.

Releasing soft-spoken tracks followed by headbanging, classic-rock inspired hits, this young artist’s music truly feels alive, shifting and evolving from one release to the next. With a soulful dedication to “music first, lyrics second,” Bissett is steadily creating his own lane defined by a relentless drive for experimentation. We had the chance to talk to Bissett about his creative approach, his latest single, “Dumped,” and plenty more.

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Ones to Watch: So, tell me the story behind “Dumped?”

Aidan Bissett: Wow, that’s a good question. I wish when I wrote it, it came from like, I had just been dumped… Well, okay, I had sort of been dumped. I don’t know how to explain that, but let’s just say I was in a relationship, taking time off, in a sense. When we were writing it, it was me, my friends, Ryan and Sean, and we were writing in a zoom session for like three hours. It was not a good song, and none of the three of us wanted to say it was a bad song. So, we were like, “OK, we are going to go take a break for a little.”

Then I pulled my guitar off the wall and started messing around, because when I get bored, especially in sessions, I like to try and take my mind off things. I’ll play random chords and sing random lyrics, like ad-lib over them just for fun. So, I started playing like three chords that are all throughout “Dumped,” singing this hook line that—it’s going to sound really weird—“I’m taking dumps all the time.” The guy I was producing it with was like, “OK, gross,” but that actually could be really cool… what if we change it to “I’m getting dumped all the time.” And I was like, “Woah.” That’s kind of how it started and we were on a roll and wrote the whole song in two hours.

And the song does mean a lot to me, because I have actually been dumped, multiple times. It sucks, it’s not a fun feeling, so every time I listen to it, it is kind of an “f you” type of song. Like, “yeah, I got dumped but I’m better off on my own anyway.” I always like that feeling better than wallowing in sadness. So, for anyone who does listen to it, I hope that it helps bring you out of the mourn and into a new light.

In the music video, you are seen reading an “Idiot's Guide To Love.” What was the last book you read?

I do love reading, I’ve always liked reading. I have not, in the past year, read a ton of books, which sucks because I actually do like reading. Well, okay, my senior year of high school I read like 13 books but a lot of them were for school. But they were still good books! I’m in the middle of reading Dune, which is very good so far. So, hopefully, I can finish that before the movie comes out. But yeah, I do like reading… when I have the time to sit down with my ADHD mind.

“Dumped” is a noted sonic transition for you. Can you tell me about how you approach your genre-spanning sound?

I don’t really like putting myself in one genre. I’m in a certain lane in the sense I do indie-pop, I do alternative, but I don't want to do straight pop. I feel like it's such a box, and it’s so limiting. I just love exploring different sounds, so even from the start, I put out “Different,” and then the second song was “Worst Girls Of All Time,” which was a completely different sound than the indie-pop wave that “Different” is. So, me putting out stuff like this after “Communication” is me exploring new sounds. To be honest, the things I like to hear always change, the bands that I’m listening to are always changing, and I take a lot of inspiration from a lot of different bands. I just love trying new things. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but it just keeps me on my toes instead of just doing the same formula over and over again.

What are you listening to right now?

That’s a good question, it’s kind of all over the place. There’s this one girl, Remi Wolf, who I’ve been non-stop listening to… I have been listening to her for a minute. When she put out her first EP, I loved it. But now, she’s putting out these new tracks and Solomonophonic, her producer, he’s just incredible and her voice is incredible. They are doing so many things that just aren’t normal in this time of music; it’s just so her own lane. I find that really inspiring in the sense that she’s carving her own path and not following in the line of others.

I feel like I’m always listening to Wallows no matter what. I always have them ready to go. COIN. Role Model’s rolling out new stuff so I’m excited for that, he’s kind of taking a change in his own discography. [The] sounds that he is doing are definitely a lot different from his earlier stuff. This guy, binki. He’s actually opening for Role Model on this tour. Oh my gosh! His music’s insane, so cool. It’s got so many sounds going on, similar to Remi Wolf, there’s so much going on, you’re like ‘wow.. I’ve never heard something like this before.’

For those who don’t know, you write, record and produce your music all by yourself. Can you walk me through your creative process?

Yeah, I’m very musically-driven. Everyone has their own thing, I feel like a lot of artists, like the Olivia Rodrigo types, are lyrically-driven. I’m definitely music first, lyrics second. So, when I sit down to write something I try and get something I latch onto. I’m like, “Oh, this sounds cool. Lyrics could sound cool over this.” Anytime I go into a session or I’m recording by myself, I try to lay down some form of music, and then I’ll freestyle lyrics or freestyle melodies over the top, or pick a melody I like and throw lyrics over that melody. Whether that’s a hook or a verse, that kind of just depends on how I’m feeling. It’s definitely a bit unconventional compared to other artists. I feel like artists are a bit more put together when it comes to writing music just because I’ve only been doing it for like a year-and-a-half. But I have my own process, and it works. Every time I write something I learn something new. I’m excited to see, even a year from now, what my process will be… and even if it's completely different or efficient, who knows?

Tell me about the influence of music in your childhood and the decision for you to be a musician at a young age - you started playing electric guitar very young - what was your household like? Musical family?

My dad wanted the kids in our family, I have two other siblings, to play an instrument for two years during our young adult life. He wanted us to play piano before we got to pick, so we had two years of piano and then we had to pick an instrument. So, my sister went and played two years of piano and didn’t really stick with it afterward. Then, it was my turn and I was like, “Well, I don’t really want to play piano, can I play guitar?” And since I was the only one who asked, who expressed interest in a different instrument, he was like, “Sure.” I started in second grade and I’ve stuck with it the entire time. I took lessons for years, and that’s how I kind of got into the classic rock scene. My dad was a huge classic rock fan so he showed me all greats… and that was all I listened to for years. It definitely had a large impact on what I did. I would even play in little recitals, and I always played classic rock songs like AC/DC or Guns N’ Roses.

It wasn’t necessarily a musical household, like my dad isn’t musical, my mom isn’t musical. The reason he wanted us to play an instrument is because his mom made him play an instrument as a kid, so he was like, “You guys get to do that, too.” But it is true, one of us ended up using it.

What do you want people to take away from “Dumped?”

It’s an amp-up song. I want them to feel energized, to be happy with yourself. Getting hurt in relationships happens all the time, but it's okay to get hurt in a relationship. It’s kind of how you bounce back, and I want this song to be like a bounce back. Like, you hear it and, “Oh! This is me bouncing back! I don’t need to sit and cry anymore, because that’s not fun.” Sitting and crying is okay, everyone’s done it, but there’s a point that you reach, in that break-up phase, when the crying needs to stop and you need to go out and live and be the person that you are, independently. So, I would hope that it inspires you to be your independent, wonderful self again.

Is there anything else you would like to say about your music, or in general, that you want to take the chance now to say?

Well, I’m sitting on a lot of songs. So, I’m excited to get all the rest out, and again, everything is so diverse. All the music is so diverse, I just feel like each song is its own thing, which I really enjoy. I feel that’s really unique to my own music, where you’re getting something new every time. I’m moving to LA. That’s the other thing. So, if anyone sees me in LA, please stop me and say hello!

#aidan bissett #dumped #interview #pop #indie pop #alternative pop

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oliviermiraarmstrongs · 3 years

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mid-year book freak out tag

thank you @bloody-wonder for giving me an excuse to share my book thoughts!

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2021?

It’s gotta be The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood; I hear “feminist period novel about mentally ill woman unable to cope in upper-class society” and I am THERE! It’s like [Stefon voice] This book has EVERYTHING: repressed women, a decaying old house, a complex relationship of two sisters, a pulpy sci-fi story-within-a-story-within-a-story, criticism of capitalism and reactionary attitudes and politics, commentary on how conservative society shuns those it perceives to be “other” and a threat to the social order (poor people, socialists, “unconventional” women). It is EXTREMELY my shit.

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2021?

The only one I've read is Siege and Storm, so Siege and Storm! Shadow and Bone was captivating, if a little simplistic, but the sequel really fleshes out the characters, setting, and themes. It’s great to see Alina take a more active role, and I love the exploration of sainthood.

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To?

I’m really curious about Michelle Zauner’s memoir Crying in H Mart. Same with Axiom’s End, which I haven’t really been seeking out, but it’s been resting on my list since I like a lot of Lindsay Ellis’ stuff.

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2021?

5. Biggest Disappointment?

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood. I’ve been getting into Atwood, and I have a soft spot for female-centric retellings of myths, so this was on my list for a long time. It’s not bad; it’s decent as a character study and offers some good perspective on the hanged slave women from The Odyssey, but overall it came off as...bitter? And not in a good way. It’s reasonable to include commentary on how bad things were for women in ancient times, but after a while I’m just like “But there had to be a time when Penelope was happy, right?” But the biggest failing has to be the treatment of Helen. Why a story focused on bringing literary justice to silenced women also characterizes Helen of Troy as a manipulative, arrogant bitch who single-handedly ignited the Trojan War because she enjoys fucking people over, I’ll never know. Ironic that in the opening chapter, Penelope bemoans being used as a yardstick with which to judge other women, and then the book proceeds to do exactly that with her and Helen. Can’t let Penelope have a positive relationship with another woman! There could be some form of unreliable narrator at play, but there’s not much indication that that’s the case here. Even Homer had a more nuanced portrayal of Helen than this!

6. Biggest Surprise?

I suppose The Red Tent. I picked it up at a Goodwill because of my aforementioned interest in female-centric retellings. It’s not amazing, but I wasn’t really expecting it to emotionally affect me like it did. You spend so much time setting up Dinah’s family and this supportive community of woman within a patriarchal society, only to have Dinah abandon it all after getting betrayed by her father and (most of) her brothers. Hearing about how her family fell apart after she left and she never got to see her mothers again really gets to me. The book has flaws for sure - neither of Dinah’s romances are developed very well, and some of its themes can come off as gender essentialist - but I think it’s a nice exploration of female labor and traditions that too often get ignored.

7. Favorite New Author?

The only relatively new author I’ve been reading is Leigh Bardugo, soooooo... honestly I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t already been said, I got into the series pretty late. Great world-building, witty dialogue, a familiar type of story with enough interesting ideas to make it feel fresh. Check out Shadow and Bone if you get the chance. Sound of the summer.

8. Newest Fictional Crush?

You would think it would be Nikolai Lantsov since I just finished reading Siege and Storm and he seems to be the fan favorite... but nah, not yet. He’s fun, but he doesn’t hit me in that way (Though very sexy of him to just casually proposition Alina and Mal for a royal polycule, a la Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot; would love an AU where they accept his offer). However, I would let Zoya murder me. Every time Zoya is not in a scene I am asking “Where’s Zoya?” Also shout out to Alina, just because I would treat her better than all the men in her life!

9. Newest Favorite Character?

Gonna try to do this without spoiling too much, but Laura Chase in The Blind Assassin really resonated with me. Her personality reminds me a lot of myself, especially as an an autistic person, like the way she has her own way of thinking that makes perfect sense to her, but makes other people see her as odd and naive. I love how she’s set up in-universe as this Sylvia Plath-esque tragic heroine, with Iris spending the rest of the book interrogating and deconstructing, and in a way, reconstructing this image of her. Atwood you’re insane for this. I forgive you for the Helen thing now.

10. Book That Made You Cry?

I never got as far as crying, but the part in The Goldfinch where [spoilers incoming] the art heist goes wrong and Theo is alone in the hotel room and he’s spiraling and considering suicide and finally dreams of his mom… all that was too much for me and I had to put the book down for the night. This guy just can’t catch a fucking break.

11. Book That Made You Happy?

fucidjdjdj I didn’t read any happy books this year. Shadow and Bone and Siege and Storm because I read them really fast unlike my usual months-long reading schedule.

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw?

Predictably, Shadow and Bone. I basically bought and read the book less than a week before the show came out because I thought it looked interesting and wanted in on the hype (mostly because Jessie is cute 🥰). Honestly, the show improves a lot on the first book; the multiple storylines make it more dynamic and complex, the actors really help to make the characters feel more fleshed out, and Alina and Inej interacted for like three scenes, introducing an unexpected but thematically rich ship.

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year?

14. Most Beautiful Book You’ve Bought So Far This Year?

I impulse-bought this book of Romantic poetry at Barnes and Noble just because it was pretty and I had a gift card

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End Of The Year?

Besides finishing The Grisha Trilogy/Six of Crows duology/Zoya’s duology that I forgot the name of….I don’t know. I’m not a reader that plans in advance. I acquire books, finish whatever I’m currently reading, look through my stacks deciding what to read next, spend an hour doing so because I can’t decide if I’m in the mood for any of them, and either force myself to read one or buy/borrow a new one.

I’m tagging @betweenironyandsilver, @illuminaticns, @borispavlikovskys, @chdarling, @sctine, @mightyaubs, @excuseforadrink, and @trckstergods, if you wanna! Or anyone who wants to yell about books.

#sophia says shit #tagged as me #sorry for taking so long I write slow and am on vacation #but thank you! I don’t get many excuses to talk about books!

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modern-vellichor · 3 years

Text

Me and My Husband

Summary: You have to hide a failing marriage from the world, and then suddenly it all feels better again. Warnings: mlm, implied polyamory, failed marriage, explicit language, angst to fluff Pairing: Steve x Reader (Brief Steve x Bucky, implied Stucky x Reader) A/N: Me And My Husband, Mitski

You stood next to Steve, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. You rested your hand on his chest, your wedding ring glinting in the low light of Tony's party. You were playing the perfect married couple. You were talking to Pepper, and all she wanted to talk about was your perfect fucking marriage.

"Oh yeah, kids just aren't for us," you laughed politely. Steve smiled down at you, a fake smile, but only you could tell the difference.

You weren't sure where it all went wrong. It was always so perfect. It was messy and unconventional, but God, you loved each other. You were the couple that other couples envied. It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful. With his hair and his eyes and his gentle touch. He used to sketch you, keep photos of you in his wallet. He still does, but it's not the same.

It all just turned sour one day. You didn't see it coming. That's what hurt more.

Bucky was always coming over. You loved having him in your home, he practically lived there. And then all of a sudden he was sleeping next to your husband and you were crying in the guest room.

After a few weeks you got used to it. Steve was adamant that he was bisexual, and you understood. You let him be himself, you were no one to judge. The guest bedroom became comfortable. Nat would come over to comfort you. She would lay her head on your stomach and say comforting things, and tell jokes. She made everything feel better. The nights she slept over were the easiest, because at least you weren't alone in bed.

You begged Steve for a divorce at the start. But he just reminded you of what the team would think, and your family, and your friends. And you gave up on that idea.

Eventually it was the new normal. You and Steve were just awkward roommates. You still loved him, and he said he still loved you. You still talked, and laughed. You still cooked together, and watched tv together. You only played the couple in public. You even became comfortable with Bucky in your side of the bed. And then it got complicated again.

Steve excused himself to get drinks and Pepper turned to you with an excited expression.

"how's married life, you're still so young!"

"it's great! We're doing better, it's always been just me and him together"

You smiled at Bucky as you opened the door.

"Hey, Buck," you stepped aside to let me man in. He was tall and brooding, and honestly, you saw the appeal.

"Hey, Ste-" You shouted out for your husband, but stopped in your tracks when you turned around.

He was standing with nothing but a towel on, still wet from the shower. Your jaw went slack and you nearly dropped the cloth you were holding. He looked like a God, your God. You took him in for a minute, just watching with a love filled gaze.

"Yeah?" His voice echoed in your head as you snapped out of your daze. You blushed and stared at the floor.

"Uhm, Bucky's here," you mumbled, embarrassed. "You guys going out?"

"Nope," Bucky smiled down at you, and you suddenly felt very small. "Staying in. You baking?"

He was so quickly distracted by the smell wafting from your quaint little kitchen. You giggled at the man, he was so childish sometimes.

"Yeah, stop snooping in my kitchen. I'll call you when it's ready"

They disappeared into your - Steve's room and you broke down. You realised how truly fucked up this all was. You realised that you shouldn't love a man who loves another. You should be allowed to divorce him. People shouldn't be allowed to judge you. Your marriage shouldn't be fucking failing.

"How long have you and Steve been together, as long as I've known you anyway," Pepper giggled.

You prayed that Pepper would change the subject. You felt bare and alone without Steve by your side.

"We've been married for six years and we dated for four before that"

"Ten years?" She exclaimed happily. "That's impressive"

You nodded as you took a long sip from your drink and gazed around the party for your husband.

You knocked on the door to Steve's room. You balanced two plates of cake on your arm. Steve called out from behind the door.

"come in," it was muffled and he sounded distracted.

You fumbled with the handle and let yourself in. Bucky's face lit up at the sight of food. You placed the plates on the bed.

"doing anything interesting?" You asked, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

Steve nodded towards the tv.

"The Pianist? I love this film," you muttered quietly.

With that you left the room. You shut yourself into the guest bedroom and let yourself cry. Normally you would have called Nat and she would have made it okay. But it wasnt okay. It was insane. Your marriage had failed and you had just accepted it. You never even tried to fix it.

"You two must be so happy. You're such a beautiful couple, shame about the kids"

"We're happy by ourselves, Pepper," you smiled.

"so you two are in it for the long run, hey?"

"at least in this lifetime, we're sticking together. Me and My husband, we're sticking together"

You left your room when you heard Bucky walking towards the door. You walked into the entry way and waved him goodbye. Steve stood by your side, the two of you watched Bucky drive away before Steve shut the door. You smiled at your husband and began to walk back to your room.

"Y/N," Steve called out. His voice was hopeful and full of life.

You stopped in your tracks. You turned around to face him but kept your eyes trained on the floor. Steve held out his hand.

"C'mere," he muttered quietly.

You took his hand and he pulled you into his warm embrace. His hands wrapped around you, once cradled your head while the other rested at your lower back. You returned the hug. You buried your face into his chest nd wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed. It was nice. It felt normal. You felt loved.

"are you okay?" He mumbled into your hair.

"Sometimes I feel like I am an idiot with a painted face, in the corner taking up space..." You trailed off.

"But?" He coaxed, holding your even closer. His own way of letting you know he was there.

"But when you walk in, I still feel loved"

"jump," he mumbled.

And you did. He carried you all the way to his bedroom with your face buried in his neck. He laid you in bed and got in next to you, pulling the duvet up. His hands lifted to caress your face. And for the first time you looked him in the eyes.

"I love you." He stated firmly. "I really love you. You're my wife, you'll always be my wife. Maybe we just had a rough patch but I miss you," he confessed softly.

"I love you, too. so much," you whispered with a smile.

He pressed his forehead against yours. Your mouths were slightly open, you could feel his breath across your cheek. For a while you lay there, breathing each others air. It was strangely romantic. Then he kissed you. And everything felt normal again.

"Y/N! Steve!" Pepper called out, making her way over to you.

You were at a garden party. Steve had his arm wrapped around you. You held his other hand in yours as you smiled at Pepper. Bucky was standing on the other side of Steve. One of your hands slipped behind his back to take Bucky's, just out of Pepper's view.

"Hey, Pepper. Lovely to see you again," you smiled.

"How long has it been?"

"Only a year"

You smiled. Only a year. Only a year and you fixed your marriage. Only a year and you felt whole again.

"You look so nice, what have you been up to?"

"Steve and I actually got our vows renewed. And Bucky moved in"

"How exciting!" She exclaimed happily. She was always happy about everything you did. Pepper always made you smile, especially now things weren't falling apart.

"How about kids?" She asked softly. "Still off the cards?"

"Actually," you started and Pepper's face lit up. "We're reconsidering"

"Well, things seem to be really coming together"

"Well, it'll always be me and him together."

#steve fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers one shot #captain america fluff #captain america fanfiction #captain america fic #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x y/n #stucky x you #stucky

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nicb0723 · 4 years

Text

Find Your Worth

On Ao3 Find Your Worth

John Wick x Reader

Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.

Notes: Depression trigger warning and mention/thoughts of suicide

Word Count: 9,279

Chapter 1

This is a pretty lake.

You probably should take the time to come here more. There are sailboats in the distance and kids swinging at the playground on the other side of the blue water.

It’s pretty here.

It was pretty here. It was a pretty lake. You correct your own thinking, your own thoughts absentmindedly. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. You probably should have taken the time to come here more.

The picnic table you picked is far away from everyone else, like a private little island, except you can hear echoes of laughter and screams of fun as families splash in the water. The wood is hard under your ass and your feet tap on the bench as you wait, trying to be patient. The sun is hot on your back even as it slowly starts its descent in the late afternoon. The sun will be out for a few more hours. It’s two days before the Fourth of July and it’s been really hot, the days are long and nights short.

This would be a pretty place to watch the fireworks.

You breathe in deep, knowing that you probably won’t see any fireworks this year and that’s okay. You’ve made peace with it.

The sound of tires on gravel startle you out of your thoughts and chills run down your spine. This is it. Your skin tightens with anxiety but you’ve come this far. You’ve made your choice.

Steady, confident footsteps follow the car door opening and closing. The rocks under their shoes crunch loudly and the pace is slower as they approach your back. You don’t really want to turn and see whoever it is, but this is the last hard part. Everything else will be easy after this. It’ll be done.

They don’t say anything so you push your sunglasses up over your hair and rub down your face, fingers pressing hard over your temples. You’ve got a headache again. The dull pain gives you enough of a reason to turn your head and nod a hello towards the stranger.

The sun is behind the tall man, making you squint and you have no idea what to say. Maybe he’ll say something first but you wait a few beats and you know that won’t happen. He’s just standing there, looking at you. From your quick glance, you see that he has dark hair slicked back and his body is slim. He’s wearing far too many clothes for this heat, dress slacks and a turtleneck. Maybe he works in the city? Maybe this is his second job?

“Are you him?” Your voice doesn’t sound shaky like you thought it would. You’re slightly proud of yourself for that.

His voice, even though he spoke just one word, makes you shiver. “Yeah.”

“Okay great, um, hello.” You say awkwardly as you shift your body around to fully face him. He steps towards you slowly, coming more into view and his brown eyes are narrowed at yours. His strides are long and his arms carry a lot of strength, his hands and fingers twitch like they’re ready to pounce at any sudden movement. Maybe he’s military? No, but maybe he’s retired because he has long hair and a beard that probably wouldn’t be allowed. It really looks good on him though.

Whoever this man is, it’s not what you were expecting.

At all.

“Thanks for coming.” And now your voice does shake a little because this is a scary thing you’re about to do and suddenly your throat is dry. Did you really decide to do this?

He doesn’t say anything and continues his intense gaze. His eyes finally flicker down your body, it’s nothing but a quick assessment. He nods for you to continue and you sigh deeply. It’s now or never.

“Yeah okay, so I’m assuming you know why I called you?” You didn’t really call, you left a message with a homeless man in the city, who somehow had text you this location, time and day to meet.

He comes even closer and the sunlight shines over his face briefly until he’s in the shade. You wonder how old he is because his skin is smooth, except for the fading scab of blood on his forehead. “I understand you need a hitman.”

Oh, god. He seriously just said it outloud. Like it was nothing.

You clear your throat and sweat breaks over your skin. “Yeah. Yes, that’s right.”

He almost looks disappointed or concerned, you can’t really tell.

“For who?” He asks easily.

“Well, um. Can you tell me how much it’ll be first? I’m kinda curious.” You half heartedly chuckle at your own stupidity. What an amatuear.

“No.” He keeps his stare sharply trained on you, but something tells you that he really doesn’t want to be here, like you’re wasting his time with this. Like this is below him. “Tell me who.”

Moment of truth right here. You close your eyes, take a deep breath of air and face towards the water again. As you open your eyes you barely whisper, “Me.”

Silence. You figured as much. It’s probably not often a hitman gets hired to take out the person who hired him.

“Excuse me?” He asks incredulously.

You look at him again, this tall, dark, handsome stranger who might be the last person you’ll ever see again. “I said... me.”

“You?”

“Yes, me.”

His eyes drop in confusion and he shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. When he looks back at you they’re no longer calculating. You hadn't realized he was reading you until now, now that he looks at you with confusion and worry. “Why would you want that?” He finally asks and it startles a bitter laugh out of you.

“Why? I don’t think you want to know. You’d be here all night. Will you do it?”

For a second you think he’s going to say no and your mind races with what you’ll do. How the hell will you find another hitman?

“Tell me why.”

You think about avoiding the question again but he kind of scares you. So what if he knows? It couldn’t possibly hurt anything for him to hear about your depressing life, a life you so desperately want out of. “Why? Okay… well, let’s see...” You want to know his name at least and you raise your eyebrow in question.

He realizes what you want and he says his name, like he’s surprised you somehow don’t already know it. “John.” He says slowly, and it seems like he rarely has to introduce himself.

“Okay, John.” That’s probably not even his real name but it’ll do and you don’t really care. You rub your fingers across your temple again. The ache is starting to spread and you just want this conversation over with as soon as possible. “My grandmother just died. She was the only family I had left.” You pause and look over at John, but he’s just waiting. “She was in the hospital for almost a year. And in hospice for almost two years before that.”

Grandma was a fighter, that was for sure and you savored every single minute you could have with her. But...

“Do you have any idea how expensive hospital bills are? Funeral bills?” You don’t bother to wait for an answer, but you do see John look down, like he did know something about it. “I’ll have to pay for years, which would be fine but see I have a real shitty job. Doesn’t pay a lot at the local gas station.” You don’t add that it was the only job you could find that worked nights and let you be with grandma during visiting hours.

“And not only is working at the gas station bad enough, I have an even shitter boss. He likes to harass me, John. You know anything about getting your ass grabbed on a daily basis?”

No. You thought not. John is looking at you intently now.

“I’d quit but I have no real skills. I barely graduated high school. I love her, but taking care of grandma was a full time job and we didn’t have money for help. I thought I could afford the hospice but…”

You just couldn’t. You were in way over your head. No one taught an 18 year old how to take care of a dying guardian. No one taught you about credit cards and loans and interest and bankers taking advantage of you for years after you graduated. And now, over a decade later you’re still paying for every mistake.

Sighing, you shift towards John and let your legs dangle off the table. “Anyway, my boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, gets out of jail in a month.”

He looks at you expectedly.

“Oh I put him in there too. Domestic abuse and stuff, you know, the usual.” You cross your arms over your chest in a weak attempt to protect yourself. “So, if you don’t do this I’m sure he’ll find me and I’ll be tied up in a basement somewhere.” You bat your eyelashes, trying for some guilt. “You wouldn’t want that would you, John?”

He doesn’t speak after hearing you spill problems that a normal person could probably handle, but you’re tired. Oh yes. You forgot to mention that. “And I live across the tracks there.” You point out west, towards the bad part of town. “My apartment sucks and I haven’t slept in two years. Like, real sleep, ya know?”

Obviously he doesn't because John still doesn’t say anything. “The sink drips at night and keeps me awake. Drip. Drip. Drip.” You can hear the sound of the water splashing in your bathroom sink as you talk about it. The annoying sound that you’re now obsessed with because it repeats in your head over and over and over again for hours. All. Night. Long. Driving you insane.

“I can’t afford a repair man and the apartment manager could care less. So I don’t sleep. Well, sometimes I did while I was at the hospital with grandma, in a chair. Oh, and there's the dog across the alleyway from my living room that barks during the day too, so that’s nice.”

John is watching you squeeze at the back of your neck now, trying to ease some of the tension pulsing there. You don’t mention the chronic pain that your body is in and how your stomach hurts because of all the pain killers you take. You don’t mention that your car is crap and will probably die soon. You don’t tell him about your parents. You skip the part about being severely depressed. You don’t tell him about a lot.

“So, will you do it?” You ask again.

John pauses and opens his mouth but nothing comes out. You think for sure he’ll say no, but then you remember that this is his actual job and he needs money, right? He can’t really say no. You could go to the police and turn him in. You could threaten him… well, you could try to. You look him up and down again. Maybe.

“Um.” He starts off slowly. “I guess… why don’t you know, just do it yourself?”

Oh. You didn’t really think he’d care about that and you weren’t expecting to provide an explanation. “Are you a religious man, John?”

He shrugs and looks at the silver cross you wear around your neck. “Then you would know I can’t do it myself. I want to see my grandma in Heaven.”

John nods at that and shuffles his feet a little. It’s the first real movement he’s made since he got here.

“I thought about suicide by police, but I don’t want anyone else to get hurt…” You think for a few seconds before you lose a thought, wanting to say it before you forget. “Can I ask you something? I mean, if you decide to do it… like, I just don’t want to know when or how, obviously. I don’t want to know anything. I just want it to be done. I want it to be quick.” You swallow thickly, talking about your own death is really different than just thinking about it constantly. “I just don’t want anyone else hurt, like if you were to cut the wires on the breaks of my car or something? I could potentially crash and hurt someone in another car. And um… could you maybe not do it when I’m in the shower?” You smile weakly at your own request. “I mean, I don’t care if you like, come and do it in my sleep or whatever, but I have this thing while I’m showering… I’m at my most vulnerable, ya know and I just…”

“Yeah. I get it.” He walks a few steps towards you and puts his hand on the table, close to where you’re sitting. He has really long fingers and his knuckles are a bit bruised. There's a tan line where a ring used to be. He stands close to you now and he smells faintly of coffee. His body isn’t as rigid either, now that he knows you’re not a threat and just some small pathetic girl who can’t get her shit together.

“You do?” Relief floods you. Thank God. He understands. That means he’ll do it, right? “So, you’ll do it?”

John just stares now, his eyes soft and unblinking.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. You thought you had explained yourself well enough. What could he possibly be thinking about? It’s his job.

Looking away, he shakes his head. “This is just… not what I expected.”

“Oh.” Okay, that makes sense. You wonder who John thought you’d want to kill. He should still want to get paid though, but you don’t think that’d be the best thing to tell him. You feel like you’ll get scolded or yelled at for some reason. You decide to let him think and keep quiet.

His whole demeanor suddenly changes and he mutters under his breath, “Fucking Jimmy… fucking favors.” He folds his arms too, like you and leans his narrow hip on the tabe, casual now. You take offense.

“Look, I’m serious about this. I can’t keep living like I am. I know that it could be worse, okay? I know I could be homeless or I could… it could be a lot worse. But I’m just done. I’m tired. I want out. So just… please?”

John nods silently. Finally he answers as he stands up straight, broad shoulders squared and readies himself to leave. “I’ll let you know.”

You feel the panic tighten in your lungs. “Wait. What? You can’t tell me now? That’s bullshit!”

“That’s the way this works,” he says calmly. “I get to think about it and get back to you if I take the job.”

You’ve been planning this for months. None stop thinking about this very moment. The disappointment you feel is familiar though. Nothing in your life would ever be easy. “Yeah, okay.” You sigh sadly. “Could you at least tell me how much it’ll cost if you do decide?”

John unfolds his arms and puts his hands on his hips. “Fifty thousand.”

“Fift-- what? Are you serious?! That’s insane.”

He shrugs again and doesn’t say anything. He actually does look very serious. In fact, that could be a smirk on his pretty mouth.

You may not be smart, but you aren’t stupid either. “Fine. I’ll just get someone else to do it. This city is full of scumbags who need to make a buck.” Jumping down from the table you stand and you realize how tall John is compared to you. “Just leave. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

“No. No. Don’t do that.” The urgency that suddenly comes from him surprises you and it causes you to take a step back. “Just. Promise me. You won’t get anyone else, okay?”

You scoff in frustration. “Well what the hell else am I supposed to do? I don’t need all of this…” your hands gesture to his expensive clothes and for the first time you see the shiny classic car that’s parked a few yards away. You sigh loudly, unimpressed. Usually guys who have a car like that are complete douche bags. “Fancy.”

“Fancy?” John gives you a disapproving look.

“Yeah, you’re very fancy, I don’t know.” You’re pissed off and he seems to finally get it, putting his hands up like you’re a scared kitten.

“Okay, okay, fine. Look, I’ll do it.”

Call it a woman's intuition but you don’t believe him and it shows. “How much?”

John searches the ground, scrambling for an answer that won’t make you walk. “Three hundred.”

That’s not what you were expecting, but whatever. You just want to go and lay down before your shift starts at work. You don’t really have to go in, knowing it won’t matter in a few days, but you want to live normally in complete bliss of denial that this whole thing ever happened. When it’s your time to go, it's your time. Sort of.

“I want it to happen within a week of today. I don’t care if it’s tomorrow, tonight, or three days from now. But in seven’s day time… it’s done.” You reach your hand out for John to shake it. “Deal?”

He looks down at your hand. It’s like everything John does is precise, every move made is methodical. Your hands meet and shake twice, his fingers engulfing yours and you pull away quickly.

“How do I pay you?” Do you leave the money on your kitchen table or something?

John takes out car keys from his pocket. “I’ll contact you.”

“You don’t even have my phone number. You don’t even know my name.”

Now he really does smirk and you feel slightly dumb at questioning him. “I’ll be in contact,” he repeats. You have no doubt that he knows exactly where you live, your phone number, even your social security number. He probably knew all your information before meeting you today.

“Fine.” You grab your purse from the bench and swing it over your shoulder. “Thank you, I guess.”

John steps back towards his car and stops. “Just… one thing?”

“Yeah?”

His voice is soft, hopeful even. “Tell me if you change your mind?”

You shake your head no. “I won--”

“Just...” He stops you before the protest starts. “When I contact you, let me know then.” With that he turns towards the parking lot.

You can hear the roar of his car as you start to walk home. You did it. It’s done. You smile to yourself, the first in a very long time and it feels foreign on your lips.

The dog is barking again as you try to rest. Your headache isn’t much better, but the thought of a cold energy drink at work makes you get up and dressed.

It’s very rare that you look at yourself in the mirror anymore. The last time must have been months ago. Your hair is stringy and long, not having a cut in years. Dark, shallow circles engulf under your lifeless eyes. Your cheeks are sunken in but you put on a few pounds lately, sugar being the only thing to keep you up and going. It’s not a cute sight.

The only clothes you have now either have a hole or a rip somewhere. Your shoes are worn thin and probably contribute to the constant pain in your lower back.

You look decent enough and the thought that this might be your last night of work gives your stomach a sharp twist. John could come tonight. He could be in your apartment waiting for you when you got home. Will he have a gun? A knife? Maybe he’ll strangle… you need to stop thinking about it.

The small apartment is sticky hot when you lock up, and you’re glad for the short walk to the gas station for some fresh air.

Gary’s car is parked in front of the car wash and your heart falls. He really is the worst manager ever and even though you’re not really scared of him, he gives you the creeps. You don’t want to deal with his shit tonight, not after today, and you wonder how long he’ll be there since he’s only supposed to check in a few times a week.

“Hey,” You mutter to him as you walk briskly to put your purse in the back and grab the soda you stuck in the fridge on your last shift.

Gary’s smiling and leering at you. “How are you, sweetheart?”

Grimacing weakly you nod and glance at his bald head. You never really look at him and avoid all possible eye contact. You ignore the question though and move to grab your apron under the counter and start to stock the shelves of assorted candy and gum. Hopefully he leaves you alone today.

“I like that color on you.”

You hear his comment and close your eyes for strength. The door suddenly opens, signaling a customer and you hurry to the register to help. Gary must give up and heads to the back storage room.

The lady pays for her gas and a bottle of water but the register jams and you have to work your magic to get it open. The register is a piece of crap that’s way older than it should be and you’re surprised it still works, but you’ve mastered it and know every trick to get it functioning. You always have to teach the guy who works in the mornings and the other employees who work on the weekend how to fix it.

Gary finally leaves after you don’t pay him much attention and keep yourself busy. It’s a fine line between being rude to the guy and keeping your job. And although you could tell him off because John could technically come for you tonight, something tells you that you’re better than that. But barely, because you really don’t want any other girl to go through what you have in this place. Maybe you’ll leave a letter to corporate that John can mail for you after he’s… done.

You close up at midnight like usual and glad the night wasn’t eventful. Walking home is a different experience than any other night. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings, expecting a tall figure to approach you at any second. It’s slightly disappointing when nothing happens and you make it just fine.

There’s no one in your apartment either. You kind of thought John would be waiting in the closet, waiting for you to sleep or something, but he’s not here.

You lay in bed, restless. Should you even plan out your day tomorrow? John could slip in the middle of the night and you would never know. He said that he would be in contact, but you’re not sure how long you’ll have to wait. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess and it’s oddly quiet. So odd that you sit up a little wondering what’s going on. There’s no dog barking. You dare get excited enough to open the window, finally letting in a cool breeze that you’ve been longing for since the warmer months. You would always drown out the barking by keeping the window closed, but this feels amazing.

You creep into your own bathroom with the lightest of footsteps. Could this actually be happening? There’s no water coming from the facet. No sound of drip. Drip. Drip.

It’s silent. For the first time since you’ve lived here it’s relatively quiet and you jump back in bed suddenly exhausted from today’s big meeting. Images of John float through your mind and you close your eyes and finally sleep.

You wake with a newfound energy. How amazing it is to sleep well and get a full night rest. Your body feels lighter and mind alert. You take the time to stretch, breathing in deeply. You actually have time to do things. Usually you lounge around in bed before you have to get up for your shift, resting all you could. It feels good to pick up around the apartment, throw some things away that you don’t want anyone finding...well, after…

There’s a pep in your step when you get to work, plus Gary’s car isn’t in the parking lot. In fact, there’s a strange woman behind the counter bustling around, shoving papers here and there.

“Hi… are you new?” You ask. She’s a nice looking lady, with blue eyes and soft blond hair above her shoulders.

Startled, she turns and smiles. “Hi! No, not really. Well, I’m one of the district managers. Gary suddenly quit so I’m trying to figure out where everything is and what I can do to help. I’m Carla, by the way.”

A slow grin spreads on your lips. “Gary quit? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. Still flipping through a stack of papers that you recognize are the schedules for you and your co-workers. “Said he was moving across the country, I’m not sure. Now who are you exactly? I’m sorry, I haven’t met anyone. I came in to open up this morning and I’ve been here all day.”

You introduce yourself politely and offer that she take a break and go to get something to eat or go home. You can handle closing up, after all.

Carla nods and grabs her purse. “You’re sweet, thank you. I remember your name from the records the company keeps on file. Your cash handling skills are great and you’ve never called out. You’ve never had any warnings. How would you like a promotion today?”

You can’t do anything but blink at her.

She laughs warmly at your reaction. “Look, why don’t you think it over, okay? It’s actually not a bad gig. An assistant manager is what I’m looking for. You’d work under me, but you’d be in charge of all the scheduling and hiring. I’d need you to be full time but that means benefits and a raise, of course. There’s a folder on the counter about the training program. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Nodding, you go behind the counter as she leaves through the front door. You’re glad there’s no customers around right now because you just sink into the chair and stare, jacket and backpack still on. You think she must be joking and shake yourself out of it. The folder is blue and laminated with thick paper, very professional. You briefly look at the benefit section in the back. It’s typical medical, dental, vision… and mental health? Therapy and counseling included for a small fee.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ll have to tell Carla no tomorrow. If you have a tomorrow. You push the folder to the side and pay attention to the flow of customers starting to come in for the after work rush. It stays busy well after the sun goes down and you realize it’s Fourth of July, so it’s busier than normal. You briefly feel sad that this is how you’ll spend your last holiday.

After a quick break when it’s quiet you reach to check your phone. You have a text from an unknown number.

Did you change your mind yet?

You scoff and shake your head. Yet? Yeah right. You type out No and send it back, putting John’s name into your phone first. You wonder if he’ll destroy it after… or hide it with your body… ugh, there was a reason you couldn’t do this yourself. It’s morose.

You’ve already gone through every single emotion though. The turmoil, the grief, the anger, the shame, and finally the acceptance. There’s no talking you out of it now. You don’t have anything that would be worth something, so your stuff will probably be thrown out or donated. You do wonder about the debt and what will happen, but you just don’t think about it too much.

Your phone beeps again a few hours later, as you’re packing up to go home.

Relax. I’m not coming tonight.

A breath you’ve been holding without realizing escapes and you hadn’t known how tense you were the entire night. You think John might be trying to fool you, but you also don’t think that’s his style.

The car ride home is oddly smooth and your car seems a lot less bumpy than usual. Maybe that means it’ll break down soon, you have no idea.

You wonder what will happen to your car after you’re gone.

The next day you have nothing to do in the morning, but you need to do laundry so you head out early with your dirty clothes stuffed in a bag, swung heavily over your shoulder. You decide to treat yourself on the way to a sweet, rich coffee that tastes so good as you take a long sip. No one is around and you settle in a hard plastic chair to wait after you throw the first wash in the machine.

He could poison me, you think to yourself, staring at your coffee. That’d be a good way to do it. Nice and easy. No witnesses he’d have to deal with. No investigation. That’s what you’re paying him for, right? No messes to clean up.

The door to the laundromat swings open and here comes John himself, almost walking in slow motion in his dark suit, and you feel like you’ve just been punched in the gut. This is how he decides to do it? Now? At the laundry place? Where you’re wearing old clothes and wrinkled underwear? Perfect.

“Hi.” He stands over you, tall and brooding. You notice that he has a faint trace of a black eye and a small cut on his lip.

“This is happening?” You ask, still not really believing your shitty luck. This beautiful man seeing you in such a state of upheaval is embarrassing.

“No. Not right now. I wanted to see if you changed your mind.” John’s voice is stern, determined. His hair is slicked back, making him look intimidating, much more now that you’re both under fluorescent lights rather than the soft sun rays at the park.

Your eyes track down his body, taking in those shoulders and slim waist, long legs in a perfectly fitted suit. “Do you always dress up? Like every day?”

“What?”

You gesture to his clothes. “What’s with all the suits? I mean, you look very nice but this is the cheapest laundromat in the entire city.”

For the first time John really looks around. His eyes had darted past you to the backdoor as he walked in, but otherwise his gaze was completely on you. “I um… I have another job after this.”

“Oh. I didn’t know hitmen were in such demand.”

John clears his throat. “Assassin.”

“What?”

“I’m an assassin.” He says it slowly, making sure you understand. “Not a hitman.”

An assassin? That makes sense, you knew he was too fancy to be a hitman. “What’s the difference?”

Still speaking slowly he says, “A hitman usually gets one target. I get them all.”

“Do you like… shoot guys from a rooftop or something?”

“No, that’s a sniper.”

“Of course. I apologize.” What a completely ridiculous conversation you’re having right now.

He cocks his head at your words and raises an eyebrow.

You take a sip of your coffee. “What?

“You aren’t scared?”

“Of what?” You smile, almost teasingly. “You? No. I kinda knew you were in the business when I hired you, remember?”

“Oh, so I’m your employee?”

You swear he’s almost teasing back and it surprises you because up until now he’s been so serious. You shrug your shoulders though, looking him up and down again. “I mean, I guess. You must be really desperate for that three hundred bucks.” It comes out sarcastic but you can’t help it.

John presses his lips together, disapproving again and sighs. “Why don’t you call this off, huh?”

Sure, work has gotten immensely better and you can actually sleep through the night. Two huge changes all in just two days, but you still have a mountain ahead of you. “I have thousands of dollars in debt, John. I have an ex boyfriend who is literally going to hunt me down in a month. Changing my mind is not an option.”

He unbuttons his suit jacket and puts his hands on his hips, starting to pace.

You sip your coffee again. “I appreciate you asking, but I don’t see a way out so… a deal is still a deal, right?”

You watch as he doesn’t answer and thinks. He really is a good looking assassin. You feel bad that he has to see you in this state of disarray. Beautiful women are probably all over him.

John stops suddenly. “What's the ex boyfriend's name?”

“Huh?”

“His name? Tell me what it is.”

You usually wouldn't in a million years, but you totally lied before because John actually does scare you. “It’s Max. Max Brickson.”

John looks up at the ceiling, like he’s cataloging all the names in his head for something familiar but it doesn’t seem like he knows it. “I’ll take him out instead.”

“Huh?” You haven’t talked to many people lately, wanting to keep to yourself, but usually you can at least articulate actual words.

“I’ll take your money,” John is talking fast now and sits down in the plastic chair next to yours. “And I’ll kill him. Instead of… well, instead of you. Problem solved.”

“Um, problem not solved.” Your voice is squeaky. “What if he hurts you? No way.”

There’s that pensive, disapproving look again. With a flick of his wrist you suddenly see a very sharp knife in his hand. Without even looking he throws it smack in the center of the poison sign on the wall all the way in the back.

“Okay, stupid point.” You swallow thickly because that was awesome and frightening all at once. “But I can’t have someone killed. Are you insane? There’s a difference between doing it to myself and someone else.”

John is rattled with confusion. “But he hurt you? Abused you, probably.”

“So what? No, absolutely not.” You shake your head and cross your legs, giving John your own don’t mess with me right now look.

“Well what if I scare him off? When he gets out? I could come to your place for a few nights, see if he comes around and if he does…”

You narrow your eyes.

“I’ll just beat him up, I swear. That’s all I’ll do.”

He’s lying. You both know it.

“Yeah right.” The plastic chair creaks as you get up to put your laundry in the dryer. “Besides, that still leaves the bills, John. My back hurts, my feet hurt, I’m lonely, I have no one. I don’t have anything to live for. So just forget about it. The deal stays as is. I don’t know why you care anyway.”

The air is weighted with thick tension and he’s up, walking to get his knife that’s still sticking in the wall. He doesn’t say anything as he passes you and slams the door shut after him.

As far as visits to the laundromat go, this was by far the most exciting.

It’s been five days and you’re still alive. Yes, you’re less tired and yes, work has been better but still. You groan at the pile of mail on your table and decide to open the envelopes you’ve just added from emptying your mailbox, probably for the last time.

The first papers you open have red ink all over, littered with the words over due and late. You decide to leave them in a nice pile for whoever will find them, somewhat organized. The next envelope is thinner though and you have to look at it twice. Zero balance. Paid in full.

Great. Some sort of mistake. Something else to deal with. Although, you don’t really have to do anything about it. You toss it on top and clean the kitchen a little, read through one of the free magazines you got from work, but curiosity eventually gets to you.

After twenty minutes of answering questions about your account, the nice lady from the collection agency tells you that your balance is in fact, zero. Not only that, but the other account you have in your name is also at zero. They were both paid two days ago but she can’t tell you what happened.

You have to get to work anyway and you’re still thinking about it when Carla asks you what’s wrong. Telling her briefly about the situation you confide that you’re baffled, but she shrugs it off.

“Your grandma probably had life insurance. Mine did, and my father didn’t find out about it until after she passed. She probably knew how expensive all of this would be for you.” Patting you on the shoulder, Carla’s eyes are full of sympathy as she goes behind the counter to help someone.

You knew all of grandma’s finances though. At least, you thought you did. Maybe she was keeping secrets.

The front door swings open and Sam greets you, “Hey buddy.” He’s a new kid Carla hired a few days ago to help on your off days and he's here for training. He’s still in high school and seems really sweet.

Carla is texting away on her phone and tells Sam to put his stuff in the back and grab a water before getting started. Then she touches your elbow and whispers, “Do you think you could train Sam today? I know you told me no about the assistant manager position, but my daughter is having a meltdown about a boy right now. I’ll make sure to give you a bonus and buy you one of those coffees you like!”

You smile and nod. At least the day will go by faster. “Just the coffee will be fine,” you tell her and she shoots you a grateful look. She tells Sam what’s going on and flies out the front door, both of you giggling at the sight of her dress blowing in the wind.

The night goes really smooth and Sam is goofy, making you laugh more than you can remember. You learned shortly after Carla and you had a conversation a few days ago that Gary had been keeping you on nights alone, saving the salary of the extra person who would have been with you for at least a few hours before closing. He had been doing a lot of things wrong, like not letting you take lunches or refusing to pay you overtime. Carla was shocked when she looked at the logs and it had all stopped immediately.

You feel pretty proud at the way Sam gushes over how you know all the tricks to the register, especially when he locks it up a few times and you know how to troubleshoot it easily. You hope he remembers all these tricks because even the girls from the day shift have to call you sometimes for help.

Before you know it, Sam is leaving and you’re heading out. The ride home is short and your apartment quiet.

You sit at your kitchen table, eyeing the zero balance written in black ink you left on top of the pile of envelopes.

Not red.

Well, fuck.

Your life is kinda good right now. It doesn’t actually royally suck. Yeah, you still have to worry about Max, but you could always take John up on his offer. If you don’t have to use your entire paycheck to pay the credit bills, and you took the promotion, that’d leave you enough to start saving… and maybe buy some new shoes. Maybe you could go to counseling. Get your head back on straight. Maybe go back to school.

Your fingers are cold when you reach for your cell phone. You think that you might change your mind in the morning, but knowing a good sleep is in the cards for you tonight, you decide to just make the call now.

“This is Wick.”

“John?”

“Oh hey… how are you?”

His full name is John Wick and the thought barely processes before you continue to talk. “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?”

Of course he wasn’t going to let you off that easy. “Fine. I did change my mind. Don’t do it.”

You can hear him smiling through the phone. “This is the first job I’ve ever been fired from.”

“Ah, John. I’m sure you would have done an excellent job. Thanks for not… well, you know. Not doing anything to me yesterday. Or even this morning.” You tell him, tapping the zero on the folded bill with your fingernail. “I appreciate everything, in a really weird way.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He says softly.

“You gave me time. Things suddenly seem to be working out so… yeah.”

John’s voice is kind and you vividly remember him throwing the knife with such force in the laundromat. You’re sad that you’ll never see him again. You wonder if he wasn’t an assassin and if you weren’t such a wreck maybe you could ever be friends. “I’m really happy for you.”

You don’t say anything as you hang up on him. You can tell he’s not one for goodbyes anyway.

It takes a few weeks, but therapy is a good look on you. Things that were very black and white in your world suddenly had color. Smiling more and crying less, laughing instead of eating your feelings away. The new job is just challenging enough that you excel at it, but still have time for maybe taking some classes when school starts.

You did buy new clothes, new shoes, and a new mattress. You don’t have enough for a new car yet, but surprisingly it’s running just fine. Turns out your apartment manager only speaks Russian, and simply didn’t understand when you tell him things are broken. Now you have new light bulbs, and new shower head, and new carpet.

Your savings account is slowly growing too. You’ve gone out to lunch a few times with Carla and even helped Sam with his homework once or twice. Your confidence is building and you feel the strength in your mind and body. It’s amazing what can happen when you sleep and pain isn’t throbbing in your back, and the headaches seem to have gone away too.

In fact, you’ve taken up running and currently you’re at a good pace around the lake early this morning. The music is blasting in your ears and the sweat at your brow feels good. You feel alive.

And that’s when you spot him. You’d know that stride anywhere, John being on your mind as a handsome acquaintance instead of an assassin you hired… and then fired.

“Hey! I can’t believe you’re here!” You pull out your earbuds and catch your breath as you take in John’s appearance. He looks different in dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He has the cutest bulldog on a leash who is patiently waiting by his side.

“Hi!” He looks almost as surprised as you are. Almost. He smiles widely and puts his hands shyly in his pockets.

“What’re you doing here? You live close by?” You ask, still sucking in air. You’re so out of shape, but you learned in therapy that even ten minutes of movement is a milestone.

“Uh, yeah. I live in Mill Neck.” He points across the lake, towards the nice side of town. You live on the opposite side of the lake.

“Ah, of course. That’s cool.”

“You look nice. You look happy.” John says, still smiling softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Blushing you glance down at the dog and ignore his words. “Who’s this big guy, huh? Can I pet him?” “Yes, of course.” John replies. “I only got him a few weeks ago actually, still figuring out a name.”

“He looks like a pooch, don’t ya?” You forget John is even there as you crouch down and talk to the dog, who has a beautiful silver blue coat of fur and you laugh as he licks at your chin.

“I think he likes you.” John bends down too and gently pulls the dog away. “Pooch, huh?”

“Well anything’s better than hey dog .” You shrug and stand back up. “He’s really cute.”

“Yeah, I think we get along just fine.” John agrees.

You start to put your earbuds back in and give him a little wave, suddenly feeling awkward. You don’t want to intrude on his walk.

“I’ll be seeing you, maybe?”

John chuckles and bites at his lip. “Not if I see you first.”

What the hell does that mean? A huge flock of ducks fly down into the lake and you hear the leash pull as John lets out a low sound of a commanding heel, which makes you tingle.

However, it doesn’t faze the dog because he barks. Loudly. And you stop cold. You know the sound of that bark. It’s tattooed in your brain. You turn around slowly and now you shiver all over, but not because of attraction. You slowly stalk back towards John and you can hear him mutter to himself. It sounds like shit. It sounds like he just got caught.

“You stole the fucking dog across from my apartment.” Your voice is low and accusing, a statement because you already know the answer. You lean in close to John, your jaw ticking in anger. “You kidnapped a dog!”

“Shh. Look, come over here.” He leads you to a nearby bench and sits you down.

You feel a panic attack coming and you try to think of what you learned in therapy. The lightheadedness gets to you fast though and John pushes your head between your legs. You’d be embarrassed but you’re too upset. “Oh my God. You did everything, didn’t you? You… you…. Oh my God. I’m so fucking stupid.”

John sits down and tries not to crowd you, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. The dog seems unfazed and curls up at his feet. “He was starving,” John explains, his fingers lightly brushing your elbow. “That’s why he was always barking. He was chained up with no food, only rainwater to drink. No shelter. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

You look at the dog and even now through a panicked haze, you can see that his ribs are sticking out slightly. He’s happily panting and staring down the ducks, completely oblivious of your anxiety.

“Tell me what else. Oh my God, you made them give me a promotion? I couldn’t even do that by myself.”

John pauses and shakes his head. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh my God… did you kill Gary?”

“.... no”

“Oh my GOD.”

“I just threatened him.” John’s voice is loud now and he looks around guiltily. You glare at him to start talking and he’s almost whispering. “Really. I didn’t kill him. I went over to his house in the middle of the night when no one else was home and---”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Look, he needed to go. He really was a scumbag. Not kill worthly, but still. The town is better off without him here.”

You look at John in disgust. He’s telling you all of this so calmly. Another thought pops in your mind that makes you sick. “You paid off my debt, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t answer, just sits back on the bench and gazes out to the water.

“Tell me.” Your stomach turns, but you need to know.

He nods once, not looking at you. Avoiding your eyes entirely.

“You asshole.” You mutter, your hands forming into a fist. “You complete asshole.”

He catches you before you can punch his shoulder and forces your arm down with ease. You know he’s holding back his full strength, but you can see his muscles bulge a little under his tight t-shirt. It’s very distracting.

“I thought I was helping. I would have tried to help anyone in your situation. I’m sorry, I should have told you. I didn’t know how.”

Slumping, you sit back too. Well this is a good mindfuck. Your brain starts to function again and the cold sweat from the panic attack is fading. You stare at your new running shoes that are so comfortable. The new purple wristband that shows how far you’ve gone and what your heart rate is at. You even got your haircut at the expensive new salon in the city. It’s so shiny and healthy now.

“I can pay you back.” You whisper, not knowing how long it’ll take. You can’t really return anything you bought, but maybe you can pick up some shifts at work. Get a second job instead of going to school.

John laughs, but nothing is funny and it comes out humorless. “This is not how I wanted you to find out. I had no intention of you paying me back. That was not the deal.”

“Fuck the deal. The deal has changed and I didn’t even know it.” You tell him, still staring at your feet. “Are you really even an assassin? How is this possible?”

“Oh, I’m an assassin,” John says, like he’s been doing it for years. “That homeless guy you gave your number to? He’s an informant for the police. I did my undercover cop friend a favor, he twisted his ankle the morning we met and needed someone to take his place.”

“Uh huh…” You’re starting to feel really dumb now.

“I was never going to kill you.” John continues. “Or anyone, I was just there to get information. Usually when a woman wants a hitman they want parents or husbands dead for the insurance or inheritance money. And you were obviously not a threat, so I told my friend you didn’t show.”

“Obviously.”

John rubs his hands up and down his legs and you’ve never seen him nervous. “I just take care of really bad people, in case you were wondering…”

You weren’t. You were only thinking of yourself. Flooding feelings of shame come crashing down. How could you be so selfish?

“Bad people?”

John mumbles “yes,” and you start thinking about the money again. “I need to pay you back.”

He shifts on the bench and gently guides your chin to look at him. His touch makes you dizzy all over. “Can I tell you something and you really hear it right now? Like, really listen to what I’m going to say to you.”

You nod and meet his eyes, and it doesn’t look like he believes you, but he starts anyway. “I have plenty of money.” His tone is very soft and he’s speaking slowly, like you’re a child. “I don’t need your money.”

“You don’t need my money?” You ask, still not completely with it.

“I don’t need your money.” He confirms. “You’re not going to pay me. If you do, I’ll find a way to get it back to you.”

“Oh my God.” You sit up with a gasp. How could you be so oblivious? “Did you fix my bathroom sink??”

John looks guilty again, hands now falling in his lap. “You needed to sleep. And you need a new lock on your door, it was too easy to break in.”

“And you fixed my car.” You say in a daze, not really listening to him anymore.

“Well, it was easy to steal while you were at work and my friend is a mechanic. All it needed was some new tires and a tune up.”

Your eyes are wide and you blink to keep from screaming at him. “Anything else?”

“No. No, that’s it.”

As if it wasn’t enough.

You don’t remember leaving the lake. You barely remember John calling out your name, his fingers grabbing at yours to stay with him.

You do remember getting home and calling your therapist for an emergency session. It took three hours to explain it all. She tried to hide it, but she looked pretty horrified at your plan to hire a hitman. You’ve only seen her a handful of times anyway, and you hadn’t even breached the surface of your problems, let alone get to the part about John. She manages to calm you down, and gives you some coping skills to get through the rest of the day. She also asks if you still plan on hurting yourself, but you can confidently tell her no. You promise when you go home you’ll do some deep breathing exercises that you admit actually do work.

You think any sane person would thank John for doing all he did, but you’re too proud and it pisses you off. No one gets help like that. Everyone should fend for themselves. Fight their own fight. And you had, and you thought you’d figured it out. You didn’t need someone to save you. You were going to escape, however it had to be done.

At the end of another therapy session a few days later, you come to terms with it. You realize John is an adult and acted on his own will. You couldn’t have controlled him or his actions. For some reason he decided to help you and somehow you need to know that maybe you’re worth it. That’s later down the road though, you’re still not ready to see that yet.

You decide on a whim one night to text John that you forgive him and thank him for the things he did.

He sends you back a smiley face emoji and you melt a little more.

It’s only been three weeks since the day at the lake when your phone rings with a private number. It’s the officer who arrested Max and helped get him behind bars. He’s being let out tomorrow and Officer Sanders wanted to let you know as a courtesy. You thank him, your throat dry and he tells you to call him immediately if you need help.

You think about John’s offer at the laundromat, but can you really ask him to do something else for you? It’s a little desperate and you’ve become so independent in this last month that the thought really doesn’t sit well. Instead, you berate yourself for not taking self defense classes and briefly consider buying a gun when your phone rings again.

“Your ex is getting paroled tomorrow.” John tells you, before you can even say hello. “I’ll be at your place for a few days. No argument.” Gone is the guilt ridden guy at the park, the assassin is back and you don’t have the guts to tell him no.

“The couch is really uncomfortable.” You try instead and you can almost hear an eye roll.

“Be safe.” And John hangs up.

You lay down on your bedroom floor and reach under your bed for the baseball bat you hid there a long time ago. You could totally take care of yourself and practise a few swings, going a little too hard and somehow you end up with a good size bruise on the top of your foot.

Sighing, you sit down on your bed and come to accept that John Wick, the assassin, is just going to stay with you for a couple days. Not an issue at all. No problem. All very normal.

You tell yourself this over and over, but in the back of your mind you know it’s all lies and denial.

TBC Chapter 2

#John Wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #romance #fan fiction #fanfic #john wick x y/n #slow build #find your worth #chapter 1

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lgcrorin · 3 years

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hieeeeee, everyone ! 👋🏽 i’m doe ( any pronouns, 21+ ) and i’m here to introduce you all to my lovable, flirtatious airhead, miss lee rorin. she was born in ‘96, loves to figure skate, and was studying film at chung ang university. also—you may have seen her before as she was the lead dancer and visual of defunct girl group ( and brain child of @lgcyumi ) st☆rlight ! there’s some info about her under the cut, but she’s very much a work in progress, so i apologize for any lack of details. oh, and if you’d like to plot with us, let me know by stamping a ♡ on this post !

born oct 11, 1996 to a former figure skating duo, rorin was put on the ice at a young age. this isn’t something that she’d later go onto choose as a profession, but she’s about as in love with it as her parents are. it’s honestly the foundation of her dance skills, as well as her love of performing/competition—and all things glittery and girly.

her childhood was fairly average, to be honest. both of her parents now worked as like, coaches and instructors to the rising figure skaters of tomorrow, and she discovered love for a new creative outlet: theatre. she was still performing, but enjoyed taking on different roles in a variety of school plays and community musicals. it nurtured a need for praise, attention, and the warmth of the spotlight, and it was then when she decided on doing everything she could to be an entertainer. her grades were terrible, she hated school, and well, she always wanted to be involved in something more “artistic.”

thankfully, her family was in support of her. they, too, had more unconventional means of success, so it wasn’t like they would’ve ever barred her form exploring her interests. she started some acting classes when she was ten years old, and even had a few meetings with agencies, but no luck came out of it. it was a lot of failure for a few good years, so she decided to throw in the towel and just... exist on a smaller scale for awhile. she still did some theatre and was apart of drama clubs, but all that came to a halt when she was fortunately scouted by her former company. in 2013, she started to train w/ them.

she remembers her first trainee experience pretty... negatively. for one thing, she was scouted based on her visuals alone, and instead of being encouraged to do well and improve in singing/rapping, she was merely treated as a “face” and that was it. tw / dieting, weight mentions, body dysmorphia. she was put on strict eating regimes, workout schedules, and asked to maintain herself as best as possible. if she could naturally blossom into someone talented in singing and dancing before début, then great, but if she didn’t? the company thought that was okay, too. they had other plans.

at début with st☆rlight, she was insanely lost and felt completely inferior to her other members, and to other artists in general. luckily to her background in figure skating, dancing came a bit naturally to her, but she lacked in all other avenues. not only that, but her looks were now put out there into the world to be ridiculed by everyone—not just her company. it tanked her mental health, and the company’s issues didn’t help. after suffering for a year, her group disbanded, and she took some needed time off.

in order to occupy her time, her parents convinced her to go to school for film and theatre—her first true loves. she went along with it in hopes that it’d give her a taste of normalcy again, and thankfully, it did. from 2016-2017, she really worked on herself. self-care, self-love, she felt much more mentally sound. however, in 2018, she was scouted for a second time by legacy entertainment. this... threw her off, and she was insanely close to declining their offer to a audition. however, she took it as a sign of fate that it’s what she’s meant to do with her life, so she auditioned successfully and began to train once again. this time, though, she wants to approach it differently this time.

legacy has given her a chance to actually prepare for a début before doing so, and while she works hard, she tries not to get too involved or serious about it, too. this is what she loves, you know? she doesn’t want it to feel painful or sorrowful anymore. all she wants is to grow and learn, and fuck up a few times, sure, but just... in general, she wants to have a better time. that’s it. it’s that simple to her. lmao. i love that for her, though. she also wants to prove that she can still be an idol, and even an actress, if she wants to—and not only because she’s considered “beautiful” in the eyes of some people.

personality-wise? as mentioned, she’s a bit of an airhead, but in a way that many would find adorable. others would hate it, though. i was heavily inspired by pop-culture icons elle woods from legally blonde, sailor moon, cher horowitz from clueless, and the late media stars / actresses anna nicole smith and marilyn monroe! let’s hope i can exude all of that same energy with her. like with them, she has a stereotypical “dumb blonde” vibe but isn’t all that dumb. she has a really quick wit and is fantastic communicator. we’ll see how it goes, though. as mentioned, she’s still a wip, so i’ll be getting to know her more along with all of you. it’ll be a great time, i’m sure !!!

#* ( ❝ 𝓡. // int. )#* ( ❝ 𝓡. // mus. )#lgc:intro

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howaminotinthestrokesyet · 3 years

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Behind The Album: The Downward Spiral

The band’s second studio album was released in March 1994 from Nothing Records and Interscope Records respectively. The release represented a concept album from Trent Reznor detailing a person’s descent into depression and ending in suicide. He would combine the record with qualities of industrial rock, techno, and metal. Much like Broken, this stood in stark contrast to Nine Inch Nails debut Pretty Hate Machine. He first thought of the idea for the record while staying in a European hotel just after the touring Lollapalooza Festival in 1992. Along with the rest of the touring band, the singer had felt this very negative vibe towards their live performances. His original vision for the project was to explore a fictional character with major psychological issues. This fictional character in the end turned out to be Reznor himself as he used this concept to speak on his particular issues at the time in the lyrics. At this time, the Nine Inch Nails front man was at war within the group with Richard Patrick, while at the same time gradually becoming a much harder drinker. Reznor made a conscious decision to distance the sound on this album from the harshness and loudness of Broken. For that reason, he tried to minimize completely any use of guitars and synthesizers, but instead sought an atmosphere on the album of “ texture and space.”

Nine Inch Nails recorded The Downward Spiral at 10050 Cielo Drive in Los Angeles, which stood as the house in which Sharon Tate had been murdered by members of the Manson family. Reznor had first bought the house in 1992 during the recording of Broken. He named the studio that was built there Le Pig After what was scrawled on the wall in blood after the murder. He would later produce Marilyn Manson’s debut album there, Portrait of an American Family. Both the Nine Inch Nails front man and manager John Malm stayed at the house for 18 months while recording Broken and The Downward Spiral. Later in 1993, the sister of Sharon Tate, Patty Tate confronted Reznor about exploiting her sister’s death by recording at her sister’s former home. The encounter did affect him profoundly causing the singer to change his perspective. “For the first time, the whole thing kind of slapped me in the face. I said, 'No, it's just sort of my own interest in American folklore. I'm in this place where a weird part of history occurred.' I guess it never really struck me before, but it did then. She lost her sister from a senseless, ignorant situation that I don't want to support. When she was talking to me, I realized for the first time, 'What if it was my sister?' I thought, 'Fuck Charlie Manson.' I went home and cried that night. It made me see there's another side to things, you know?” Once again, Reznor would collaborate with producer Flood for this record, but it would be their last. They would both have major creative differences moving forward that could not be resolved. One example of these differences came in the song entitled “Just Do It” that did not appear on the finished album. The producer believed Trent had gone too far with that particular track based on the entire concept of the album.

Over the years, the album has been interpreted in a wide variety of ways that make it difficult to pin down. Some of these themes include nihilism, self control, self abuse, depression, and madness. The one interpretation that people did agree on unanimously represented the idea that the entire record is semi autobiographical meaning the fictional protagonist is Trent Reznor. That same person has gradually been going insane through the effects of drugs, alcohol, religion, society, and finally decides to end it all. Some accused Reznor of copying a well traveled theme of angst within grunge music only a few years earlier. The music on The Downward Spiral represented something new, unique, and very unconventional. As noted before, Trent incorporated several seemingly different genres into the record including technical, metal, rock, and electronic. He would regularly utilize distortion and other noises In unstructured ways that listeners were not used to at the time. This meant that the formula of following verse and chorus went out the window with Nine Inch Nails. Another unique trend on the album came with Reznor’s use of new time signatures that were off the standard beat. Another quality found within the music emerged with his singing as it alternated between whispers and screams. He did not rely on too many samples either for The Downward Spiral with the primary ones being one from the George Lucas film THX1138 and an Iggy Pop drumming sample. The singer has noted that the two primary inspirations for the album emerged in David Bowie‘s experimental Low and Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Nine Inch Nails released the tracks “March of the Pigs” and “Closer” as singles, while “Hurt” and “Piggy” did make it on the radio, but not as singles. He was frustrated by the fact that “Closer’s” lyrics were widely misinterpreted as a song about lust, but Reznor intended the lyrics as a theme of self-hatred. The song “Hurt” subsequently released in 1995 made reference to hurting yourself and an addiction to heroin. The track would get worldwide fame a few years later when Johnny Cash covered the song. Reznor would say this about it in interviews. “I wasn’t prepared for what I saw, and it really then, wasn’t my song anymore. Then I got a CD in the post. I listened to it and it was very strange. It was this other person inhabiting my most personal song. Hearing it was like someone kissing your girlfriend. It felt invasive.” As time passed, the singer would make the statement that Johnny Cash covering one of his songs probably meant more to him than winning a Grammy.

The Downward Spiral did suffer from numerous delays from Reznor. He had hoped to finish the album in 1993, but setting up the studio to his liking took longer than expected. At the same time, he was trying to educate himself on how to write songs vastly different from anything he had ever recorded. Another reason for a further delay came in the fact that halfway through the album he suffered a massive attack of writer's block. The record became a massive hit for the band as it debuted at number two on the Billboard charts eventually being certified quadruple platinum by 1998. In the first week alone, The Downward Spiral sold 119,000 copies. Some very early listeners of the record predicted that Reznor had affectively killed the profitability of the band with the release. The singer did not disagree with this assessment as he saw the commercial value of it as quite limited, so the huge sales surprised him quite a bit. Critics almost universally praised the album commenting on its brutal honesty, darkness, and offbeat sound. Robert Christgau of The Village Voice gave it an honorable mention, while the New York Times review found the music to be quite abrasive, but meant as a compliment. Jonathan Gold of Rolling Stone likened the album to cyberpunk fiction popular at the time. Tom Sinclair of Entertainment Weekly had this to say about it. “Reznor's pet topics (sex, power, S&M, hatred, transcendence) are all here, wrapped in hooks that hit your psyche with the force of a blowtorch." In the end, the record would make many best of lists ranked very highly. Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums Ever saw the release as number 122 in 2020. Spin Magazine’s Top 20 albums of the past 25 years gave it the 10 spot. The legacy of The Downward Spiral was felt by both Reznor, his touring band mates, and the rest of the music world. Its success would lead to fame and notoriety that the singer had not envisioned, nor was he prepared for it in a mental health way either. The group had to deal with rumors left and right referencing Reznor‘s depression, possible death, and even a crazy story that he had been friends with Jeffrey Dahmer. The record also led to countless imitators including Motley Crue. Reznor would later say that The Downward Spiral was an album, where the actual truth self-fulfilled itself, meaning all the darkness, depression, and other negative themes came true in his own life.

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rosemaidenvixen · 4 years

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Flipping the Script

Chapter 2: Enter the Trollhunter II

Ao3

Nomura had on occasion, accidentally allowed her car to drift too far to one side of the highway while driving; and as a result, had her tires go across the grooves designed to alert drivers of their precarious position.

The feeling was jarring and unpleasant, to say the least.

Amplify that sensation over a thousand times, add a neverending sharp turn, and that was approximately how it felt to be driving down the massive staircase.

Nomura rattled in her armor as the jagged crystal steps battered at the car. She was being dinged black and blue, but at least the seatbelt kept her from flying around.

Despite being on a redneck rollercoaster from hell, she wasn’t screaming, not even a peep. Nomura really wanted to say that this was because she never panicked and was always the epitome of grace under pressure.

In reality her diaphragm was paralyzed with terror.

This was in direct contrast to Strickler and Otto, who were wailing their heads off.

It was actually pretty impressive that neither of them had passed out from lack of oxygen by now.

For his part Otto had given up any attempt to control the vehicle and was now just along for the ride. Or maybe he was trying to control their wild descent, it was impossible to tell at this point.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you viewed things, they rounded a final corner and shot out of the staircase. Bouncing on the last few steps in a way that reminded her of a trampoline for all the wrong reasons.

The tires tore against the cobblestones as Otto slammed on the brakes. The car fishtailed, two out of four tires having gone flat on their way down.

But friction and physics were on their side and the car slowly, painfully, came to a stop.

Insane ride finally at an end, they all sat panting and shaking in their seats, still braced for whatever shock was sure to be coming next. So of course they all jolted when the rear bumper fell off with a loud clang.

Well Nomura and Strickler did, Otto slumped over against the steering wheel in a dead faint.

So they were alive, which was a definite plus, but now the car was totaled and Otto was unconscious. Those were things, things that she should probably deal with.

Still trembling from residual adrenaline, Nomura pried herself out of the car, clinging to the side to keep from falling over. Across the hood she could see Strickler getting out and going over to Otto’s door, checking him over no doubt.

Now that she had a moment to breathe, Nomura glanced around at her surroundings. They were in a stone city of some kind, buildings and storefronts carved directly into or out of the bedrock. All illuminated by a myriad of crystals that glowed every color of the rainbow. A glittering metropolis hidden beneath the foundation of Arcadia Oaks.

It would have been beautiful if not for the steadily increasing number of trolls gathering around the car, none of them looked happy.

“Humans? In Trollmarket?”

“Fleshbags!”

“What are they doing here?”

“Might be changelings...”

Angor was standing between them and the crowd, front and center, but the nervous expression he wore was not reassuring.

Right on queue the sword magically reappeared on Nomura’s back, she really hoped that didn’t mean she would have to use it in the next few seconds.

Before the crowd’s grumbling could escalate to shouting, a troll broke through the crowd and dashed around to join Angor in separating them from the mob. Shorter than most other trolls, green with six eyes and four arms.

Dictatious.

“Calm down everyone, no reason to panic,” his voice boomed in the stone corridor “Let’s not lose our heads…”

Nomura, ignoring the looky-loos for now, scurried around to the other side of the car to help Strickler pull Otto out. They managed to lift the bespeckled man out of his seat, only to stagger under his weight. Nomura grunted as she strained to support him, Otto wasn’t that heavy, but he wasn’t that light either, and his flopping limps and overall limpness did not help when trying to maneuver him.

As soon as all three of them were conscious and above ground, she was going to thank Strickler and Otto for all the times during college they dragged her drunk, unconscious body onto the couch and into the recovery position.

Stricker gave an uncertain glance at the troll standing off to the side "A little help...Angor?"

Looking glad at being given a way to help directly, Angor stepped over and plucked Otto out of their arms and into his as easily as a human might pick up a baby.

Meanwhile Dictatious was still trying to calm the masses “These humans are no intruders,” he struggled to make himself heard over the rising grumblings of the crowd “Please allow me to introduce our new Trollhunter and her...”

Half of his eyes swiveled over in her direction “These are your brothers,” he stage whispered “Correct?”

“I-- Yes,”

That was close enough to the truth that it might as well be. And besides, the whole truth was...complicated.

“Our new Trollhunter, and her brothers!”

His words seemed to have the opposite effect than intended, riling up the crowd even further rather than calming them.

Before Nomura could start to panic about the soon-to-be angry mob, a new voice boomed above the others.

“WHAT. IS. THIS!”

She felt, through the tremors in the ground, the new troll coming before she saw him. The crowd parted, making way for a massive, coal black troll to storm through. The newcomer was bigger than Angor and a lot bigger than Dictatious. He was nearly as big as Draal, hell maybe he was bigger. His only clothing was a kilt and scabbards holding twin swords strapped to his back. Horns curled around his face framing an ugly snarl with the fringes of the dark, matted mane running down his back peeking out. The only trace of color on him besides black was in his blazingly red eyes, which were laser focused on Dictatious.

“YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT THIS--” he stabbed an accusatory finger in Nomura’s direction “FLESHBAG, IS OUR NEW TROLLHUNTER!?”

Dictatious folded both sets of arms “Yes Bular I do, and don’t just take my word for it, the armor and the amulet speak for themselves,”

Bular snapped his gaze in Nomura’s direction and let out a low growl, she squashed the urge to flinch.

“She can’t be the Trollhunter! She’s not a troll!”

Dictatious met Bular’s gaze without flinching “I admit it’s unconventional, but the amulet has made its choice. Now there is nothing for us to do but accept it,”

Bular seethed, hands balled into fists, shaking with barely restrained fury. His eyes raked over Nomura’s silver armor and the amulet hovering above her heart “You have no right to wear that armor, human,” he spat, stomping in her direction, she wobbled and took an involuntary step back “I am Bular the Vicious, son of Gunmar the Glorious and the amulet’s rightful heir!”

Gunmar? Who was-- Oh yeah, Dictatious had said that he was the Trollhunter before her. Back up, he had a son!?

Suddenly Bular’s arm shot forward and his fingers closed around the amulet faster than she could react to.

“AND I WILL NOT SEE HIS LEGACY SULLIED!”

Just as he started to pull at the silver disk, the amulet hummed with energy and erupted with a concussive blast, throwing Nomura back to be caught by Strickler, and hurtling Bular into the crowd, who scattered away from the flying troll with gasps of shock and stunned looks on their faces.

If Bular had been mad before now he was profoundly pissed off. Roaring, he hurtled to his feet and charged back towards her.

Nomura snarled, shaking off Strickler’s attempts to hold her back, and stalked forward to meet the dark troll head on.

She knew in some part of her mind how stupid this was, going up against an eight foot tall stone monster that could snap her spine like a twig. But after everything she’d just been through today Nomura was done.

She had absolutely no fucks left to give.

The two squared off, mere feet apart.

“Listen well human--”

“No, you listen!” Nomura cut him off with a growl “I found this amulet nine hours ago and in that time I’ve been chased, punched, thrown, tossed, and threatened with death more times than in the rest of my life combined!”

She leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart, close enough to smell his halitosis, closer than she ever would have dared if she were less tired and pissed overall “This amulet has been nothing but trouble, and apparently giving it back isn’t an option. Believe me I tried,”

Their noses were almost touching now as Nomura pressed even closer, she could see Bular’s eyes widening “So if you want it so bad, how about I shove it straight up your--”

Strickler grabbed Nomura by the arm and yanked her back, probably trying to get her out of biting range “Let’s save the more colorful threats for another day, shall we?” he said, panic thinly veiled with a brittle smile.

But rather than bellowing or threatening her with limb shearing, Bular looked like he had been stunned into silence by her outburst. This lasted for a few seconds before he snorted and turned away “We’ll see what Usurna has to say about this,” he grumbled while walking off.

Nomura pulled herself free from Strickler and watched Bular leave through narrowed eyes. Picking fights on her first day as Trollhunter was probably a bad idea, especially since she already had one troll gunning for her, but Gunmar’s son or not, that guy was an ass. The crowd was dispersing now, trolls losing interest now that violence was no longer imminent and heading off in different directions. Taking advantage of the lull, Dictatious swooped in and grabbed each of them by the arm “Let’s move along, shall we,”

They hustled through the market, following Dictatious’s lead. Angor trailed after them, bridal carrying the unconscious Otto. Strickler kept gawking at all the sights and sounds of the troll city, Nomura was more concerned with the trolls constantly milling about, occasionally giving them the stink eye.

“So are we...safe here?”

“Oh yes,” Dictatious said animatedly “Trollmarket’s wards are impenetrable, no Gumm Gumm could ever set foot here,”

“No, I mean is it safe for us,” Nomura gestured to herself and the two men “Humans?”

All six of Dictatious’s eyes blinked “Oh, that is...less certain,”

Strickler narrowed in on that “What exactly does that mean, ‘less certain’?”

“Humans have never before set foot in Trollmarket, the fact that you are here is a tremendous upheaval to our way of life. And rapid change is not something trolls are accustomed to, and some may react...poorly,”

Despite the uneasy mood, Dictatious suddenly brightened and hurried ahead while gesturing for them to follow.

“Enough talk of such dire things. Master Nomura, it is time for you to see precisely what you’re fighting for as our Trollhunter,”

Hustling after Dictatious, Nomura turned and reached a clear area of the street that bordered a massive chasm. Looking up and following the troll’s line of sight, Nomura let out a gasp.

On the other side of the chasm was a crystal the size of a skyscraper. But even in spite of its size, this was no ordinary piece of quartz. The crystal glowed with soft, orange-yellow light. Something about it just felt warm, like coming face to face with the sun.

Nomura heard a soft gasp from behind her as Strickler experienced his own reaction to the crystal. Angor appeared bemused by their reactions, even as he shut his eyes and let out a pleased hum as the light of the crystal hit him.

“The Hearthstone,” Dictatious said with no small amount of pride “Source of strength and vitality for all Trollkind. As our Trollhunter, your sworn duty is to protect it and all the trolls who share in its warmth,”

Looking up at the hearthstone, Nomura felt an uncomfortable stirring in her chest. Magical amulets were a terrible way to choose public servants, she was standing by that, but it was obvious that this whole Hearthstone-Trollhunter gig was very important. And she wasn’t sure that she could be what they needed.

Luckily she was saved from her emotions by Otto starting to wake up. Golden eyes widening in alarm at the squirming human in his arms, Angor hastily set Otto down on the cobblestones as gently as he could and took a few steps back.

Nomura and Strickler hurried up to him as Otto groaned and twitched back into consciousness.

“I just had the strangest dream…” Otto sat up and straightened his crooked glasses “Nomura found a magic amulet and then trolls were-- Gott in himmel!?”

Strickler flashed him a sympathetic look while helping him to his feet “Unfortunately we are all very much awake, are you injured at all?”

Otto groaned and stretched “Nein...but I am going to need a stiff drink at the end of today,”

Nomura patted him on the shoulder “You and me both,”

Otto blinked and looked around “Where are we exactly?”

“Trollmarket,” Strickler replied, cutting off Dictatious who had opened his mouth in preparation to explain. He shut it and scowled, but allowed Strickler to continue.

“Apparently an entire Trollish metropolis exists beneath Arcadia, with no one the wiser, and Nomura has most recently been appointed as their protector,”

Otto snorted “Now that I find hard to believe,”

Nomura punched him on the shoulder “Asshole,”

Angor and Dictatious shared a puzzled look, the shorter troll raising a brow ridge in confusion “Is that a human term of endearment?”

“Dictatious Galaridgal!”

They all turned at the new voice booming through the stone streets.

A new troll strode towards them. She was about as tall as Angor, but broader. She carried a large glowing, crystal staff. Bioluminescent lines traced and curled across her stone skin, and her mouth was firmly fixed in a scowl.

“Dictatious Galaridgal. What in the name of Gorgus is going on? I had to hear from Bular of all people that our new Trollhunter--” she narrowed her eyes in Nomura’s direction “Is apparently a human,”

“Well, Usurna, you see--”

Apparently Usurna decided to skip over Dictatious and go straight to the source. Frowning deeply, the new troll strode over to Nomura “So, you are Trollmarket’s new protector?”

Nomura glanced down at the silver armor, not even bothering to conceal her eye roll “Looks like it,”

Usurna’s gaze narrowed “There is only one test for a true Trollhunter,” she turned and gestured with her staff “Come,”

An alarmed look flashed between Angor and Dictatious, but they said nothing as they fell into step behind Usurna; Nomura, Otto, and Strickler following.

Usurna led them to a stone alley off to the side, so narrow that even the three humans had to go single file. The alley widened and Nomura stepped out of the corridor after Angor only to freeze in her tracks and let out a small gasp, actions mirrored a few seconds later by Strickler and Otto.

They were heading down a narrow stone path that led to an arena circled by massive walls. On either side of the entrance a massive statue of a troll stood, expressions somber and weapons held at the ready.

Nomura gazed around in wonderment, adrenaline from her fight with Draal and the subsequent encounter with Bular melting away, as she followed the trolls into the arena. Even remembering how awestruck she’d been when she saw the golden gate bridge at age ten couldn’t compare.

The six of them reached the center of the arena, if anything the view was even more impressive from here. From this vantage point Nomura could see that statues of trolls standing atop massive pillars ringed the entire space.

“Trollhunter,”

It took Nomura a second to realize Usurna was talking to her “Yeah?”

She gestured with her staff to to troll sized footprints in the floor “Step forth,”

Before Nomura could walk over, Dictatious stepped between them “I understand that this whole situation is...unexpected, but could we not do this after Master Nomura has at least been trained in the basics?”

Usurna was unmoved “No, these are serious matters, and I do not wish to waste any time,”

Slumping in defeat, Dictatious stepped over to stand beside an anxious looking Angor.

“Now Trollhunter, step forth,”

Slightly more nervous now, Nomura walked over and placed her feet into the corresponding prints. Something shifted in the stone beneath her feet. With a rattle several large stone panels moved aside and a large, multi armed mannequin of sorts rose up from the floor.

“Behold the soothscryer!” Usurna pointed at the thing’s mouth “Insert your right hand Trollhunter,”

Nomura looked up, the dummy’s mouth was full of rings of sharps spikes “Yeah, no,”

“That was not a request,”

“Have you seen the teeth on that thing? I’m not putting my hand anywhere near it,”

A thin, painful looking smile carved itself into Usurna’s face “I am losing my patience Trollhunter, either you offer the soothscryer your hand, or I will,”

So apparently this was a non-option, fucking wonderful.

Nomura eyed the sharp looking apparatus uneasily “Strickler, Otto, can you guys give me a boost,”

Exchanging an apprehensive glance, the two of them came over and each grabbed a leg, lifting her to reaching distance of the hole. Eyeing the jagged interior, and once again cursing the events that had brought her here, Nomura slowly inserted her hand.

The machine clamped down on it.

Nomura screamed, she tried to jerk her hand out of the hole, kicking at Strickler and Otto in her mad flailing. They dropped her but the machine’s grip on her arm kept Nomura suspended.

Then the mechanism released.

Nomura dropped to the floor. Ignoring Strickler and Otto squawking as they broke her fall, she scrambled at her freed hand.

Four fingers and a thumb, all intact and moving properly.

Nomura went limp with relief, only to have Strickler elbow her in the side “Get off of me,” he groused. Angor and Dictatious scurried over to help them up

Meanwhile Usurna was still examining the mannequin that had almost made Nomura an amputee. She sniffed at it “Inconclusive,”

“Inconclusive!?” Nomura struggled to her feet, supported by “What the hell does that mean?!”

Usurna turned and started striding away “It means that the soothscryer needs more time to render its judgement,”

Nomura narrowed her eyes at the dismissive troll “So what, we just try again next week?”

Ursurna let out a chuckle “Next week? I doubt you will last that long human,” she paused “Oh forgive me, I doubt you will last that long Trollhunter,”

#Tales of Arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #role reversal AU #role swap au #zelda nomura #walter strickler #otto scaarbach #angor rot #dictacious galadrigal #bular #usurna #flipping the script #Trollhunter!Nomura #rmvwrites

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful comments and support! I love hearing your thoughts! Here’s the next chapter!

Chapter Two

Folklore. Stories passed down by generation involving legends, mythology. In the Balkans, such tales rose speaking of the species known as Dhampires. A creature born from a female human, fathered by a male vampire. Children of a forbidden union. A result that now Zoe Van Helsing had conceived.

Despite the force behind her punch, Dracula did not move a muscle. Not even offering a wince at her gesture. He did, however, stare at her rather perplexed, studying her gaze as if looking for some kind of falsity behind her words.

"Huh," he seemed to ponder. "That's quite an interesting accusation I haven't been accused of before."

"The tests don't lie, Count Dracula," Zoe countered. "And seeing as you are the only partner I've engaged in...relations with, there is no denying that you are the…" She hesitated. "The paternal genetic make up of my...offspring." Even the mere aspect of referring to the anomaly as a 'baby' was still hard to grasp. "Whether this was your plan all along or not, I am expecting."

He seemed to think for a minute, processing the doctor's words. Zoe wasn't sure what to expect next. Anger. Fear. Denial. But when his lips curled into what one might consider a borderline smirk, her own blood began to boil. Amusement.

"Fascinating," he commented. "Why, I never considered such a thing to be possible. In the centuries of science I've acquired, countless knowledge, the ability to procreate in such a way never passed by mind!" He chuckled, noting Zoe's darkening stare. "What a momentous occasion! I'd offer you some champagne but," the vampire looked her up and down. "Based on your condition, I hear that drinking alcohol is ill advised."

If she thought it would've caused damage, Zoe would've hit him square in the face again. But he was impervious to most sorts of pain. Too bad she didn't bring a crucifix with her. Or an entire bag. That would've provided some sort of vengeance.

"So, would you like to come in? I assume you were here to discuss things."

Dracula's voice pulled Zoe back to reality. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Just being in his presence was giving her a headache.

"No," she frowned. "I'm leaving. I don't...I don't know why I even came here in the first place."

As she turned to go, already heading towards the stairs, she heard Dracula's voice call out.

"Does the Foundation know?"

Zoe stopped in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat. Until that very moment, she hadn't even considered mentioning to the institution of her latest discovery. A laboratory that sought on studying every detail, every aspect of the vampire himself.

"I'd advise against it," he said. "You can never be too careful when it comes to places of science. Experimentation is a rather unpleasant thing."

The doctor didn't reply, finally finding the will to move again. Though she'd never admit it, Dracula was right. If someone found out about this, someone who knew what she did, the result might not be in her favor. Zoe hurried back to her car, throwing her purse into the passenger seat before taking off. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she could've almost swore she saw Dracula watching her through the window.

XXX

A wave of nausea overcame Zoe the moment she stepped into her home. This time, however, she was unsure if it was due to her cancer treatments or being pregnant. She exhaled, running a hand through her hair as she set her purse down on the counter. Exhaled. Stressed. She wandered into her bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress. Even the idea of changing into her pajamas seemed tiring. Taking off her jacket and shoes, she lied back on the bed, allowing her eyes to close. Perhaps she could escape this nightmare in her sleep. At least there was that luxury.

"Well, you've gotten yourself into quite an unfortunate situation."

Zoe's eyes fluttered open and she immediately sat up in bed. She looked around the room nervously, trying to locate where the voice had come from.

"Oh don't look so panicked, I'm not going to hurt you."

A figure stood at the edge of the bed, her long habit creating a shadow that stretched to the back wall. Zoe squinted, her eyes fixated on what she could now tell was a woman's face. Her features were striking. Almost familiar. Nearly too much so.

"Who are you?" Zoe whispered, clutching her comfortable. "And why are you in my room?"

"For someone so smart, I'm rather surprised you don't know," the woman smiled. "I am, after all, your great, great aunt," she paused. "Give a few 'greats'."

"Agatha?" The doctor asked, brow furrowed. "But how, I…"

"Not exactly in the flesh, but you are correct," the nun stated. "As to how, well, I'm assuming it could possibly relate to you consuming Count Dracula's blood. Seeing as he consumed me and you then drank from him, due to our lineage connection, our minds are connected."

"Are you saying you are a part of me now?" Things just seemed to keep growing stranger by the hour. "Am I...possessed?"

"Possession would suggest I have dark intentions. An evil spirit if you will," Agatha chuckled. "In my opinion, I don't believe that I am-though, others may see differently," she shrugged. "No, I'm more a voice inside your head. A legitimate one, you are far from crazy."

"I...still don't understand," Zoe mumbled wearily. "Is this real?"

"As real as your sexual intercourse with Dracula," she replied, folding her arms over her chest. "And the result of that. I'm still in awe you allowed yourself to be seduced by him. Rather unbecoming of a Van Helsing."

"I wasn't seduced," Zoe interjected. "I was drunk...off blood."

"Well, I suppose we'll both see what is to come because of that," the nun sighed. "Now, I'll leave you to your sleep. We'll stay in touch."

With that, the apparition disappeared leaving Zoe once more alone in her bedroom. Zoe massaged her temples, shaking her head. First a vampiric pregnancy and now being haunted by her own kin. Life had really taken a sharp turn. Closing her eyes, the doctor tried to fall back asleep. If there was a God, he'd let it be dreamless.

XXX

"8:00 P.M? I didn't realize you would be open so late? What happened to my noon appointment?"

Zoe placed around her kitchen, phone glued to her ear. She was just about to head out when she received a call from the doctor's office. Her once assigned time had apparently been cancelled and rescheduled without her knowledge.

"There was a change in the schedule," the nurse replied apologetically. "A fluke. But we have it set straight. Are you able to still come in even if it is at a later time?"

The doctor sucked a breath through her nose. "I suppose," she mumbled. "Has my oncologist been made aware of the change?"

"We've contacted her," the woman replied. "She is on board with it. We can move that appointment too to tomorrow if that is convenient for you?"

"I haven't much of a choice, do I?" Zoe sighed, sitting down in a chair. "That'll do."

"Great," the nurse answered, sounding more cheerful. "We'll see you at 8:00, Dr. Helsing."

Once the line clicked, Zoe put down her phone. If misfortune was a magnet, she was its attraction. Not having much planned besides her prior appointment time, she took to busying herself around the house. Cleaning the kitchen. Reading one of her novels. Enjoying a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich-an odd combination she chalked up to pregnancy cravings. By the time 7:30 rolled around, she finally gathered her things and headed out the door.

"I can sense your nervousness."

The doctor inhaled sharply, surprised by the voice. Glancing over, she noticed Agatha sitting calmly in the passenger seat. Her eyes remained fixed on the road, her expression curious as she studied the other cars going by. Having died in 1897 and seeing how everything had changed since then must have been interesting to say the least.

"Go away," Zoe muttered, pulling into the hospital parking lot. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I'm only trying to offer you some comfort," the nun stated. "I must admit, I'm rather excited to see what this is all about. I've always found vampires curious. What makes them tick."

"Right now, my main focus is figuring out what is going on with me," the doctor explained, shutting the door hard. "Now go, I don't want people to think I'm insane talking out loud to myself."

Much to her relief, Agatha threw her a look before disappearing. Holding on tightly to her bag, Zoe entered the clinic and took the elevator to the correct floor. Her heart was pounding, nerves on edge as she reached for the door handle of the office. When she pushed it open, her stomach dropped. There, sitting casually looking at a maternity magazine, was none other than Dracula himself.

"Oh, you're here, good," he grinned. "I hope you don't mind. I pulled a few strings, I thought you might want me here."

"You…" Zoe stammered. "I…"

Anger. Pure, red blooded fury rushed through the doctor's body. She tensed up, watching as the man eyed her with false innocence. Of course. She should've known. As she opened her mouth, uncertain what might come out, a doctor stepped out from behind a door.

"Dr. Van Helsing? I'm Dr. Clyde, I'm so glad you could make it. Ready to come back?"

Dracula smirked as he rose from his seat, placing the magazine down. Zoe was still in too much shock as she followed behind him into another room. Nauseated. The migraines. She found herself situated on top of a cot without even realizing she had. At this point, her body was on auto-pilot, alarm bells ringing.

"You must be dad," Dr. Clyde smiled, pulling a machine forward. "Congratulations!"

"Dad."

Zoe turned her head and saw Agatha standing in the corner, her eyes locked on Dracula's. The vampire didn't seem to notice, alluding to the fact that thankfully only Zoe could see the ghost. Still, it didn't help that two people she really didn't want present were.

"This is going to be a little cold," the doctor apologized, reaching for a tub of gel.

"Might I offer you my hand?" Dracula smiled, meeting Zoe's glare.

"That pencil might make a for a good stake if you use enough force," Agatha suggested, nodding to the counter.

Zoe squeezed her eyes shut tightly, secretly hoping that she was still back in bed and this was all just a dream. When the transducer probe made contact with her bare skin, she stiffened slightly. The doctor's eyes followed the monitor as the obstetrician moved the device about on her lower abdomen.

"Let's find that heartbeat, shall we?"

"Will it even have one?" Agatha inquired. "Do the offspring of vampires have that?"

Until that moment, Zoe hadn't really considered that. Now her own heart really pounded. She waited, watching the screen carefully when all of a sudden, the sound of thumping filled the air. Dr. Clyde smiled, studying the picture. Dracula too leaned over, clearly curious as to what was going on.

"The sac looks perfect," he commented, moving his mouse over it. "Measuring right...oh…"

"Oh?" Zoe exclaimed, a feeling of dread washing over her. "Why, oh?!"

"There appears to be two present," the doctor grinned, clicking over to a second blob on the screen. "Congratulations, Dr. Helsing, you're having twins!"

Fuck.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dracula on Netflix #Agatha Van Helsing #Zoe Van Helsing #Gemini

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themaskedwriter · 5 years

Text

Never Gonna Give You Up

Pairing: Peter Parker x Teen!Reader

Word Count: 1979

Summary: There’s a prank war going on that has to do with a certain song, but no one is owning up to it. The only people amused are Peter and his s/o that gave him the idea. Then Peter decides to turn on you, but you don’t really mind.

Warnings: Rick Astley, if that counts

A/N: I love prankster Pete, it’s just so wholesome

Clues: The color red on nearly any character is one of my weaknesses, I’m a Pisces and astrology is one of my many hobbies, and I call my hometown “yeehaw territory”

————-

“We’re no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of

You wouldn’t get this from any other guy”

Tony was confused. He did not remember adding the Rick Astley classic to his hard rock playlist, or any other playlist for that matter. But it was still being heard by friend and for during a raid on a HYDRA base, completely baffling everyone there.

All he wanted to do was kick ass and listen to AC/DC while he did so. Was that too much to ask? Apparently.

No matter what he did, what song he tried to skip to, the command was overridden and that cursed song continued to play. He couldn’t focus on fixing his playlist mid-battle, so he just worked around it and planned very satisfying revenge for whoever did this.

————-

Peter showed you some of the audio from the previous mission, Tony fumbling and cursing when his audio wasn’t cooperating and the rest of the team laughing or groaning in shared annoyance.

By the end of the audio, you both were rolling around on the bottom bunk of his bed in hysterical laughter. You had brought the idea up about using the song-that-became-a-meme to your boyfriend during chemistry class. Needless to say, it yielded terrific results. “Babe, that was absolutely genius!”

“Come on, you know you did the heavy lifting. Hacking into the Iron Man suit? That is absolutely insane!”

Peter’s smile took over his whole face as he let himself feel a little bit of pride for the accomplishment. Maybe it was time to step it up a notch. It was to impress you, after all…

————-

During target practice the next day, Clint’s day had started normally. He woke up a good two hours after everyone else and drank a pot of coffee, nothing unusual.

His bow and quiver were still safely stored in the weapons vault and they looked completely untampered with. Extending an invite to Nat and Bucky, the trio headed to the indoor shooting range.

Headphones on. Targets ready. Arrow notched. Arm pulled back. Deep breath in.

Fwoosh!

Thud!

“Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around

And desert you!”

“Clint, what the-”

“Turn it off, man!”

“I don’t know what’s happening!”

Clint has no clue why his arrow sang when it hit the target. Maybe it was a dud or something since he knew that he didn’t add that option to his arrows. An interesting dud, but a dud nonetheless.

“What do we do?!”

“Try shooting another arrow at it!”

Fwoosh!

Thud!

“Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie

And hurt you!”

“It’s happening again!”

“No shit!”

“Try another one!”

Before Clint could fire another arrow at the target, Nat snatched the bow from his hands. “For all we know, every single one of these arrows sing! No one is firing anything!” The redhead jumps over the barrier and to Clint’s target, promptly yanking the arrows out of the center of the target and snapping them in two.

The audio is distorted for a few seconds before crackling out, a couple sparks coming from the bugged arrows.

“That was an adventure. Who wants lunch?” Clint offers, giving up on target practice for the day.

“We literally just ate breakfast two hours ago, how are you hungry?” Nat raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“Doesn’t matter, let’s eat.”

————-

Since becoming an Avenger (kinda), Peter had been given his own lab that was connected to Bruce and Tony’s in case something went wrong. In this lab he had access to both Karen and FRIDAY, the AI’s being extremely useful to the teen for various reasons.

Sometimes he asked about certain formulas or the whereabouts of his mentor(s), but today he asked FRIDAY to show him the video feed from the shooting range.

You were perched on one of Peter’s worktables, legs dangling off the edge. There was a bowl of popcorn at the ready, just waiting for the show. Peter sat in the chair next to you and leaned his head against your leg, one hand rubbing it affectionately.

You both disregarded the small talk coming from the trio in favor of the reason you were watching in the first place: the latest prank.

At first, you both succeeded in keeping your laughter at an acceptable volume. The key words were “at first” because when Bucky told Clint to shoot another arrow at the first arrow, Peter lost it. The thing about Peter’s laughter was that it was contagious, and his laughter caused you to fall apart not far behind.

“Pete! Y/N! What in the world-” At the sound of the region’s voice in the lab, Peter hastily closed the video feed, hoping Tony didn’t realize what was going on.

“Nothing, Mr. Stark! We’re not doing anything! Just, uh…”

“Watching cat videos! You should have seen Snuggles when his claws got stuck to the curtain! Comedy gold!”

Tony gave the two of you an incredulous look. He didn’t know what you were up to, but he knew you guys weren’t laughing that hard at the demise of Snuggles. “Right… just keep it down a bit, will ya? Bruce dropped a beaker of chlorine trifluoride and now we have a new window straight down into the gym.” Tony left the lab as quickly as he arrived, leaving you be.

Once he was gone, Peter gave you a look that said “how did you think of that on the spot?!” because your boyfriend is literally the worst liar you have ever met.

You shot him a wink as you turned the video feed back on, not failing to notice how he shifts closer to you and wraps his arms around your leg, arms resting on the top of your foot. It took you a little while to get used to your boyfriend’s cuddly nature, seeing as he is more than willing to have any kind of physical contact, no matter how unconventional, at any given time.

————-

Neither of you kept track of how many times you played the footage over, but it was indeed more than a dozen.

But during about the sixth repeat, your boyfriend had an idea all his own, and decided to enlist the help of his mentor. He had been asking you for help with the elaborate pranks in your previous endeavors, but this was an idea that you couldn’t help him bring to life.

————-

“So why are you doing this song? Any… special reason for it?”

Tony was glad to help Pete with his plan, but the fact the teen had chosen this song made him realize two things: one, you and Peter were the culprits behind the hacking of his suit as well as the mods on Clint’s arrows; and two, Peter was completely and utterly in love with you, whether the kid knew it or not.

Peter’s cheeks tinted at the question, not wanting to give the whole truth but also not wanting to expose the both of you. So he settled for a middle ground and hoped that Tony didn’t completely see through it. “It’s a song that means a lot to both of us, and it’s also a promise of sorts.”

Tony could tell that he was a bit reserved about telling much more and so the tycoon let it drop, favoring to work in silence (well, almost silence if you count the Rick Astley hit playing occasionally).

————-

Friday night, and you were all alone. Everyone that was normally at home with you had something better to occupy their time, leaving you to your own devices. Peter was out in the city patrolling, Ned was with his parents at some sort of family get-together for the weekend out of state, and MJ had found a way to some protest upstate.

Right when you get home from school that afternoon, you began to marathon the latest season of GLOW with junk food on standby. This was one of the only shows you didn’t have a binging partner with, so there was no risk of offending any of your friends about watching ahead.

Just as the third episode was starting to get good, there was a thud against your bedroom window. You found that quite peculiar since you lived on the top floor of a Queens brownstone, so you decide to investigate.

Resting your laptop beside you, you move aside your curtains and try to see by the streetlamps whether or not there was an animal on the windowsill. Seeing nothing, you head back to your bed. Right when you pick up your laptop, you hear it again.

Of course.

Groaning as you set your laptop back down on the bed, you open your window once again and this time, you take a better look at your surroundings. You looked beside your windows and found nothing, but when you looked down, there was Peter in front of… a car?

When did Peter get a car?!

You were about to ask him that very question when your eyes caught a metallic glint that certainly wasn’t this random car. It was a boombox, and when he saw that you noticed him, he immediately picked it up and pressed ‘play,’ holding it above his head like it was Simba.

The familiar instrumental nearly made you fall out of the window in laughter. Nothing, however, compared to your amusement when your cheesy ass boyfriend decided to sing along.

“We’re no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of

You wouldn’t get this from any other guy”

That’s it, everyone else go home. Peter Benjamin Parker was the cutest boyfriend on the planet.

You could tell Peter was having a great time, his smile nearly taking over his face. He was wearing jeans and a sweater over his Spidey suit (you could see the telltale red on his hands and wrists and he wasn’t wearing shoes), and his hair was tousled from what you assumed to be his mask. ‘He must have stopped at your house mid-patrol,’ you realize with a smile.

“I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling

Gotta make you understand”

Before he gets to the chorus, he sets the boombox back on top of the car’s hood and begins to dance… if you could call it that. It was honestly just a very spot-on copy of Rick’s swaying thing that he did the entire video. You honestly didn’t care how he moved about; this was the cheesiest thing you had ever seen, and it was your boyfriend doing it! Peter, the biggest, cuddly dork you knew, was doing this for you.

Obviously he chose this song because of your pranking endeavors from the past few weeks, but it was more than RickRolling the Avengers.

“Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around

And desert you!

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie

And hurt you!”

Peter kept swaying and singing, completely ignoring the yelling and hollering from your neighbors about the noise. He kept his eyes on you as he sang along with the hit and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care about the people outside of your little bubble with Pete. Part of you dared one of your neighbors to call the cops because what were they going to do, arrest Spider-Man?

Once he finished, you immediately left your window and ran downstairs. Peter was leaning against the mystery car, just waiting for you to run up to him. You did, predictably, and instead of staying outside in the cold, you pulled him inside of your brownstone and didn’t let him leave your side the rest of the night.

#fic

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jacquiesims · 4 years

Text

Viper Canyon - Chapter Two

“Then by the power vested in me by the Church of the Watcher, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

December 1851

The sky was wonderfully blue and clear on that fine winter morning. Exciting things were happening in Viper Canyon and the entire town had arrived at the church bright and early, eager to get on with the celebration.

The church bell rang loudly over the canyon, filling the air with joyous sound.

“Thank you for joining us today for this joyous occasion under the loving eyes of The Watcher.”

Reverend Piggott’s voice was loud and clear through the church. He was a funny looking man to be sure, but his devotion to the Church of the Watcher was admirable and gained the respect of those in his congregation.

“We are here today to celebrate the union of these two souls – Verity Anne Langford and Joseph Benjamin Ebey – in holy matrimony.”

Beatrice and Winnie were delightfully surprised when Verity asked them to be her bridesmaids. ‘Oh, it would be such a shame to get married and not have you beautiful young ladies up at the altar with me…’ she reasoned. Privately, both girls thought no one in a hundred-mile radius could hold a candle to Verity’s beauty, but they were flattered all the same.

They would have all liked to wear new dresses for the ceremony but without a proper dressmaker in town it was impractical to attempt to get three fine gowns done in time.

Winnie and Beatrice were merely happy to have the chance to wear their best gowns from back home again – it reminded them of attending the parties and balls they were once used to.

Peter Langford, the boy who had traveled with his mother and the Hawkins family on their journey, had his blue eyes trained on the girls across the room.

He was brimming with boyish excitement, as well, honored to be a groomsman and even happier to be one alongside Beatrice and Winnie. There were no other girls their age in Viper Canyon, after all, and Peter was having a tough time trying to decide which of the two was the prettier sister – they were both attractive in different ways. He was hardly paying attention to his mother’s vows.

Mamma, better known to the town by her nickname, Dora, watched the ceremony with a small smile upon her face. Weddings never failed to remind her of her own – she was just a young girl when she married her Emmett, and she remembered how anxious she was on the very day. Quietly, she silenced a cough with a handkerchief, earning a sideways look from her husband.

Papa, as always, was steel-faced. He privately thought weddings a waste of time but was thankful that the event had distracted his daughters thoroughly enough that they’d managed to stop bickering for the past few weeks of preparation. It was also nice to have a day off from the mines to spend with his family – he could tell the hardships of their new life on the frontier were beginning to wear away at them.

Elijah had only ever been to a handful of weddings in his life. He had no taste for them. They seemed an extravagant waste of time and money for a piece of paper stating a couple was now legally wed. However, even he had to admit there was a certain magic to them.

It had been a long while since he’d seen everyone in town together. Several old faces had gone, and even more new ones had arrived to take their place. Even so, seeing everyone dressed in their best in the church filled him with a sense of kinship he hadn’t felt since moving to the west.

Even Viper Canyon’s resident business owners had turned out for the occasion.

Milton and Clarence Monroe, the father and son who ran the general store, were a reclusive duo. But even they were glad for the wedding – it had boosted their sales considerably, especially since everyone was bustling in for weeks, placing orders from the city, trying to find the best present for the newlyweds.

Timothy Putnam owned the Sidewinder Saloon on Main Street. He was a quiet man who always minded his manners and was happiest behind his bar. He’d come from the city, like most, and attending a wedding made him feel a bit like he was back at home.

Verity and Joseph had met in quite an unconventional fashion.

Joseph was a humble farmer who had moved to Viper Canyon some time ago, eager to start a simple life and tend to the land. He found, after starting his homestead, he was quite lonely and had no one to share his life with.

He’d heard of single men putting advertisements in the newspaper looking for wives to come from the east. At first, he was repulsed by the idea. It was almost like buying a wife. But the long nights with only his cows for company were beginning to take their toll on his mind. He thought he might go insane from loneliness.

Perhaps driven by that desperation, Joseph decided to put a humble advert in the paper. A few weeks later, he heard back from Verity, who enclosed a single photograph of herself for ‘full disclosure.’ He had never been taken aback by a woman’s beauty before. From her very first letter Joseph could tell she was a a good and gentle soul.

Through their correspondence, Joseph learned that Verity had been widowed after being disowned by her well-to-do family for marrying her husband, a man of the cloth. She had nowhere else to turn and was considering moving out west for a chance at a new life. Joseph had never felt more empathy for another soul than as he read that fateful letter. With that, they were quickly engaged, and the Langfords took their meager possessions with them across the trail.

“Joseph Benjamin Ebey, do you take Verity as your lawfully wedded wife, and hereby promise to love and cherish her as long as you both shall live, until death do you part?”

Joseph took a deep breath, unable to keep himself from smiling. “I do.”

“And Verity Anne Langford, do you take Joseph as your lawfully wedded husband, and hereby promise to love and cherish him as long as you both shall live, until death do you part?”

Verity felt a tear come to her eye. “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the Church of the Watcher, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As humble of a ceremony as it was, the room felt overwhelming joy at bearing witness to the first wedding – hopefully of many – to grace the chapel of Viper Canyon.

Mamma had taken the liberty of making a cake for Verity and Joseph. It was gorgeous, complete with all kinds of frosting decorations and orange blossoms made from marzipan.

After the newlyweds had cut into the cake, everyone helped clear the floor of pews to make room for the celebration. As unconventional as it was, there merely wasn’t room back at Joseph’s home to accommodate the entire town. Reverend Piggott was more than happy to allow the reception to take place in the church.

There was no better way to celebrate brand new nuptials than dancing. Reverend Piggott sat at the piano, plunking out cheerful dancing music as everyone filled the church with sounds of heavy heels and laughter.

Everyone except Emmett, Elijah, and Mr. Monroe.

“Ah, to be young again…” Mr. Monroe remarked wistfully. “If only these old bones weren’t so bothersome. I’d be having a jolly good time ‘round the piano with the rest of them. Say, you’re both two healthy young men – why aren’t either of you dancing?”

It had been a while since Papa had been called a ‘young man.’ He quietly chuckled to himself. “It’d be uneven if I joined,” he explained. “I’d rather let the younger crowd dance.”

Mr. Monroe nodded. “Ah, I suppose that’s true. How good of you, Emmett. What about you then, Elijah, what’s your excuse?”

Elijah cleared his throat. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

The old man clucked his tongue disapprovingly at Elijah. “What a shame that your youth is wasted on you in such a manner. I can’t fathom how you could watch something so wonderful and refuse to take part on account of having two left feet. You ought to feel ashamed.”

Mr. Monroe’s scolding made embarrassed heat crawl up the back of Elijah’s neck as he guiltily watched everyone dance from his spot in the corner. He felt like a little boy being chastised in school again.

They were having a jolly good time. Verity and Joseph were glowing with happiness as they danced with the rest of the group. It was clear for everyone to see that even though they’d gotten to know each other by exchanging letters from across the country, they made a fine match.

Elijah tried and failed to ignore Mr. Monroe’s withering glares, uncomfortably shifting positions each time the old man wandered into his line of sight.

Eventually, night fell, and Reverend Piggott indulged his congregation in slower music so they could all enjoy a waltz before returning home to the rabble of frontier life.

Verity and Joseph danced together, unable to take their eyes off each other, and Papa was happy to take Mamma’s hand for a spell. Beatrice had been the first to leap at the opportunity for a waltz with Peter, who obliged her with a cheeky smile.

The only girl left without a partner was Winnie. She was minding her business, politely waiting for Peter to ask her for a dance, when Beatrice had to swoop in and ask him herself – she had a special knack for ruining Winnie’s plans.

She’d heard stories from her friends back home about the disproportionate amount of men to women in the west. One girl had even told Winnie she could expect to see twenty-five or fifty men to one woman in the desert. Of course she hadn’t expected the ratio to be that unbalanced, but after being eyed up like fresh meat at the market from her corner of the church, it certainly felt that way.

She could feel the eyes of the single men in the room boring into her – all except Mr. Monroe, who was happiest watching everyone else enjoying themselves. She tried to melt into the walls of the church, but she couldn’t sink back any further. It wasn’t like the men in Viper Canyon weren’t universally kind and generous – she just didn’t consider herself to be interested in any of them. Her heart beat faster and faster as she heard heavy footsteps approach – but she was too afraid to look up through her eyelashes to see who was coming.

Elijah didn’t know what had gotten into him. Perhaps Mr. Monroe’s piercing looks and muttering under his breath about ‘wasted youth’ had burrowed under his skin a bit too deep. He wasn’t quite sure of what he was doing until he was suddenly bowing in front of Winnie, quietly asking her to dance.

Winnie looked at Elijah with wide eyes. “Why – of course, Elijah, I’d be happy to dance with you.”

It was an outcome she hadn’t seen coming. She was thankful and relieved it hadn’t been Clarence – the man carried with him a pervading odor akin to that of the pickles he sold in his general store.

Winnie and Elijah found a spot near the piano. Winnie wasn’t a particularly shy girl, but she found herself unable to meet his green eyes even though she could feel him looking down at her. His hands were large and rough around her own. He smelled like the dying embers of a campfire and hair oil. Winnie found it was a scent she quite enjoyed.

It had been a long time since Elijah had danced with a woman. The feeling was foreign but agreeable, nonetheless. His steps were a little rusty, but Winnie only smiled and shook her head, muttering that she didn’t mind when he stepped on the tips of her finest shoes. He was feeling a bit guilty for having asked Winnie to dance. She seemed to be quite accomplished as a dancer and he felt like he was holding her back from truly enjoying herself as she moved to avoid his clumsy footwork – Elijah would have gone as far as to suspect she was the one leading the waltz.

Winnie and Beatrice stayed behind to help Reverend Piggott restore the church to its usual layout. Elijah was on his way home when Mamma called from the Hawkins cart.

“Elijah,” her voice was buttery soft and sweet. “Elijah, dear. Do you have a moment?”

Suddenly, he felt uneasy. He noticed Emmett pretending to mind the road instead of meeting his eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

Mamma smiled and looked over her shoulder, watching Winnie and Beatrice inside the church, before turning to look at Elijah again. He had never really noticed how much Mamma looked like Winnie before. It was a little strange.

“Well, Winterfest is coming quite soon, and I was wondering if you might want to come to our home for dinner. I make a fine roast and it’d be a shame not to share it with you. It’s the least we could do after all you’ve done for us. If you don’t mind my saying, it must get awfully lonesome in that house of yours all alone, especially during the holidays.”

“Oh. That’s mighty kind of you to offer, ma’am, but I would hate to impose.”

“Won’t you, please?” Mamma asked. Her voice was pleading. “The girls would love it, I know. Winnie and Bea do so look up to you.”

How could he say no to that? He had nothing but the upmost respect for Mamma, who had taken the hardships on the trail in stride even with her delicate health. Elijah sighed and put on his best face. “Of course, ma’am. I’d be happy to come over for dinner. Let me know if there’s anything you need before then.”

“Wonderful! We’ll seen you then, Elijah. Get home safely, now.”

He tipped his hat. “Emmett. Ma’am. I hope you do the same.”

The Hawkins sisters floated home on a cloud. Winnie and Beatrice got ready for bed wordlessly, each still with her mind occupied by thoughts of the wedding.

Every few moments Beatrice dreamily sighed to herself, clutching her hands over her chest dramatically.

“So…” Winnie began, once they were both in their nightgowns and ready for bed. “I saw you dancing with Peter.”

Beatrice was beaming from ear to ear. “Oh, Winnie, he’s the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. He was so busy reading those guidebooks on the trail I scarcely got the chance to properly acquaint myself with him, but tonight we did nothing but talk and dance. He’s just perfect – smart, and funny, and an absolute gentleman.”

Winnie smiled at her little sister. It was rare that they could go ten minutes without fighting. She was glad tonight was one of the rare times they could bond. She usually only got Beatrice in a good mood after she’d received a present or good news.

“I’m so glad you’ve found someone you’re sweet on, Bea. You two made quite the pair in the church tonight.”

After Winnie put out their lamp, she began to crawl under the covers, unable to avoid her sister’s gaze. Beatrice had a look on her face that was uncannily like that of a scheming cat.

“Well, I saw you dancing with our trail guide. Are you sweet on him, then?”

Winnie scoffed. “Elijah? Please. He’s almost ten years older than I am and getting to know him is like trying to acquaint oneself with a rock. Not to mention my toes are a sorry sight after he stomped all over them tonight. Blow out the candle and get to bed, Bea.”

Bea only snickered to herself as she extinguished the flame of their bedside candle, plunging the room into darkness.

To Be Continued

Previous Chapter | Viper Canyon Index | Chapter Three

(Taking the pictures for this almost killed me. SO MANY poses and crashes during that wedding!!! Anyway as always let me know what you think! See you next week for Chapter Three.)

#ts2 #sims 2 #ts2 story #viper canyon #viper canyon story #viper canyon: chapter two

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mollymauk-teafleak · 5 years

Note

“I don’t care if they’re watching. I’m not done with you yet.” is giving me some serious Courtesan AU vibes

@soft-bram requested this too, so a fic for two lovely people

I call this fic, Caleb Realises He Has An Exhibitionist Kink

***

The inside of Marion’s brothel was a whole other world.

It was as if the whole place were made of light alone, barely tangible, always shifting and changing and dancing teasingly before Caleb’s eyes, crooking it’s finger to beckon him forward. He knew it was because Marion kept a flotilla of hanging glass lamps suspended at different lengths from the rafters. In fact, he’d sourced the resin glass for her in every colour he could produce in his lab and calculated the exact lengths at which to hang them to get the best effect. But even knowing this, the otherworldly beauty of it still stunned him, made him feel half cut before even a sip of the thick, molasses coloured ale he liked so much here had passed his lips. It made him forget everything beyond the heavy oak doors that muffled the sounds of song and laughter and love so well, bland and plain on the side that faced the street but carved into a vast scene of many lovers entwined around each other on the other face.

It made him feel like he could do something truly insane. Something wild and crazy and beautiful as falling in love for an hour.

Frumpkin had followed him in tonight. He did that sometimes, disappearing and reappearing as he willed, sometimes over in Jester’s lap, sometimes sat atop the bar, glaring at Marion’s cat Sune, sometimes with Marion herself, lying at her elbow as she scratched his ears, sometimes wherever he went in the fae realm when Caleb didn’t need him close by.

But now he was around Caleb’s shoulders, tail swaying lazily back and forth and paws drooping sleepily. Caleb petted his flank idly as he sipped from his tankard and turned the pages of his book.

His appointment with Mollymauk didn’t start for a while yet but he liked to sit in the brothel beforehand, enjoy the drinks and the atmosphere, so he always came early. It was probably good for him to spend some time around people, he reasoned, rather than staying sequestered in his lab with nothing but conical flasks of sulphurous powers and flickering flames for company. He’d gotten some odd glances at first, treating a brothel like a library, sat there with his drink and a different book every night, like he was some deranged lunatic who’d wandered in off the street and mistaken this pleasure house for a lovely, homely tea shop.

But now, of course, they were used to him and he got smiles and hellos and winks as the workers walked past. None attempted to proposition him, they all knew who he was here to see. Just the usual good-natured flirting; it was always a good idea to stay on the good side of an archmage. Even one as unconventional as Caleb.

He came upon him as he always did, almost like it was accidental. Like there was no rhyme or reason why someone as bright and bold and alive as Mollymauk Tealeaf could possibly have stumbled into Caleb’s grey little life. And yet here he was, in defiance of the way things should be. As if daring everything that held Caleb down to try and kick him out, flitting in and out too fast for it to right itself. One moment absent, the next suddenly appearing in the booth next to Caleb, his smile as bright as the sun.

“My little stray cat comes wandering back once again,” Molly hummed, practically whispering in his ear. That was how he always teased Caleb, comparing him to a ragged ginger tabby, always returning hopefully at the same time each evening, begging with wide, wheedling blue eyes for some milk.

Caleb grinned, blushing a little as he always seemed to do in Molly’s presence, setting his book down on the table. He kissed his companion’s cheek in greeting, noting how it was always soft and perfect without the need for any kind of make-up, “Good evening, Mr Tealeaf.”

The tiefling wrinkled his nose at the formality, “I’ve told you, sweetling, just let me know when you get here and I’ll come fetch you, you don’t have to wait around.”

“But I like it here,” Caleb reassured him, taking his hand, “And I don’t want to make you work when you don’t have to.”

His expression softened, less playful, “It doesn’t feel like work when I’m with you.”

It never failed to strike him, how easy it was being around Mollymauk. Everything that was always tight and tense everywhere else relaxed in an instant, he no longer scrutinised every single word before it left his mouth. Everything else was so exhausting, being with Mollymauk was freedom.

He looked nothing short of stunning tonight. The tiefling moved between dresses and trousers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, expectations and established roles less than a vague amusement to him, always managing to look gorgeous in whatever he chose. Tonight it was tight, clinging leggings made of a dark, silk like material that looked like it would be so nice to touch, a dark diamond pattern on one half and pinstripes on the other. His shirt was billowy and white with a black leather waistcoat over the top, high boots of the same material all the way up to his thighs, the whole outfit making Caleb think of a roguish pirate with a dangerous grin, come to claim him as treasure and steal him away. And, as always, he was wearing enough jewellery and precious metal to make a dragon envious.

“You look wonderful,” Caleb murmured, his words feeling muddy and clumsy as he tried to fit them together in such a way that they’d even come close to describing something as otherworldly as Mollymauk.

“You’re always so sweet, darling,” Molly smiled, resting a hand on the side of Caleb’s face, as generous with touch as he was with everything else, “You do know how to make a boy feel wanted…” His eyes, wide and red and demonic looking to people who didn’t know him, studied his companion’s face, an adorable little crease forming between his eyes, “Long day?”

Caleb bit his lip, there was no hiding anything from Mollymauk. He read faces, open or closed, as easily as he himself read books.

To call it a long day would be putting it mildly. He had come into the lab that morning to find a letter- not even a face to face conversation, a bloody letter pinned to the door- informing him that funding for his work was to be reduced yet again and all of his requests for new equipment from the last month had been denied. Bitterly, he knew it was retribution for the way he’d spoken out at the last meeting of the council. He always tried to keep his head down and say as little as possible, knowing anything he did say would be ignored or ridiculed, but when the Grand Mage had proposed his new cripplingly high tax on all non-human beings wanting to enter the city to live and work and escape the fighting in the empire, Caleb’s fury had overtaken his good sense. And of course, it had been for naught. The tax would be implemented anyway, the poor would continue to suffer, and now he was to be punished as well.

But he didn’t want to bore Molly with all of his woes, so he just sighed and nodded, “Yeah. A long day.”

The tielfing stroked his thumb across Caleb’s cheekbone, tilting his head as if to admire the view better, like Caleb was actually something worth looking at, “Well…you’re here with me now, sweetling. Nothing’s going to hurt or upset you here, not if I have anything to say about it.”

He had to swallow hard to clear the tightness in his throat. To most the words would sound foolish, the kind of thing you said to soothe a child who’d had a nightmare, not a grown man who’d paid for your time. But somehow Molly knew that it was exactly what Caleb needed to hear. And he said it without hesitation, with no judgement, making it clear that Caleb was allowed to want to hear it.

“Now…” Molly’s attitude shifted, lightened, turned back to his usual boyish, playful brevity, “It’s been far too long since I had you to myself.”

“It’s only been two nights,” Caleb chuckled, feeling better already.

“As I said, far too long. Practically criminal.”

He moved over, settling on his knees so he could seat himself comfortably in Caleb’s lap. Now he was so wonderfully close, his breath warm against his skin, smelling of coffee and sugar, his hands now both on his face, stroking back into his hair. His lips ghosted across his jaw, every so lightly, deliberately to make Caleb moan and want more which, of course, he did. Molly sniggered, delighted with himself, continuing to brush his fingers through his lover’s coppery hair and give him the most delicate, teasing kisses along his neck.

Messing around in the bar was far from uncommon, it was where the workers interacted with clients who hadn’t made appointments with a specific individual, so there would nearly always be at least one pair, or more than a pair, getting things started in one of the booths with gossamer curtains, or hell, even on one of the tables or up against the bar. At this point, the poor bartender just worked around them.

But Caleb had always been swept safely up to Molly’s suite, all the times he’d visited before. All the many times, at this point. The more Molly toyed with him, delicately, giving him just enough to wake up all those places inside him, those deep wells of want, but not enough for him to get anything but hot and bothered, Caleb began to notice. There were eyes watching them, mouths curving up into appreciative little smiles, eyebrows rising in interest.

And he liked it.

By now his blush had become a full-blown conflagration, probably looking ridiculous against his hair. Molly’s deft fingers had found the leather band that kept it tied away from his face when he was working, undoing it within a second so his hair fell loose like a curtain of wild, tangled fire. Caleb had realised very quickly why he’d been warned against ever playing cards with Mollymauk. His hands could be everywhere at once, fingers moving like they had minds of their own.

Caleb’s cock was like an iron bar, straining against the lacing of his trousers, well aware of the closeness between it and the heat rolling off the sweet valley between Molly’s thighs. It was just how he liked it, somewhere between pleasure and pain, the desire so strong it was too bright to look at, too burning hot to touch, like a scream bit between teeth.

“Molly…” he began, his voice strained and shivery. The request for them to move upstairs hovered at the back of his throat. Molly would do it within an instant if he asked, he knew that for a certainty, but…

“Hmm?” Molly tilted his head. Again, he’d read the thoughts behind Caleb’s eyes, pulling them free without any struggle. He saw the desire there, the way those eyes were making him feel, only increasing the fire in his chest. But also, the uncertainness, “My love?”

The offer was there, the willingness to let him choose.

Caleb swallowed hard, “Nothing…it’s just…people are watching.”

Mollymauk saw the decision made and grinned, his eyes sparking like two fires, devilish but still Caleb felt the sudden urge to put his hand in it.

“I don’t care if they’re watching,” he purred, voice low and carrying, no doubt audible to some of their closer audience, “You’re mine, Caleb Widogast. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Caleb could have melted then and there.

Molly’s hips began to roll, a long, slow movement like he was dancing, though to something certainly more risqué than the enchanted piano that played sprightly bar tunes of its own accord. The friction built slowly but surely, an agonising climb that had Caleb squirming and panting within seconds.

“They’re looking at you, y’know,” Molly whispered in his ear in a voice like thick red wine, “Seeing how glassy your eyes are getting…seeing the moans you’re trying to hold back…seeing how your fingers are digging into my shoulders…they all know.

“Oh gods…” the sound was strangled and fractured as it burst from Caleb’s chest. He could feel the slow, regular throbbing in his trousers, his own pulsing heartbeat.

“They’re only jealous,” the tiefling continued, not even breathless as he rutted against Caleb, all while keeping him pinned, “And who could blame them, sweetling? You’re nothing short of delicious but you’re mine, aren’t you? No one else’s. I can keep you dangling like this all night long if I choose.”

Caleb gave a loud keening noise, one that echoed a little further than he’d intended. The embarrassment wasn’t its own entity, it was one with the intense pleasure, the smoky edge of the heady cloud in his mind, inseparable, inextricable.

“I won’t, sweetling, I won’t,” Molly soothed, grinding down hard to make Caleb give a muffled shriek then pulling back, “I want to see your face when you finish. I want to see you make a mess of your nice palace clothes.”

“Trying…” Caleb groaned through gritted teeth, “Can’t…can’t get there…oh fuck, Molly…”

He wanted it so badly but it was just out of reach, it was maddening.

Molly bent closer, nipping his earlobe tightly, “Yes you can, sweetling. You can do it for me, I know it.”

And suddenly, just because Mollymauk said, it was so. Caleb pressed his face to the front of his shirt, toes and fingers and teeth clenching as he trembled his way through a sharp, hard won orgasm, just about managing not to scream.

There was a ringing in his ears as he came back down, a dizziness behind his eyes. But Molly was beaming at him, holding his face again with his thumbs stroking his cheekbones in that lovely way, and that was all that mattered.

Vaguely, Caleb reflected that he probably wouldn’t be able to sit here and read his book on evenings any more.

“Look at you,” Mollymauk simpered, grinning in sheer delight, “Naughty little thing, couldn’t even wait until we got upstairs. Come on, we’re going to have to get you out of those clothes and you’re going to have to make this up to me somehow…” He winked.

Caleb had never shot up the stairs faster in all his life.

#courtesan au #lemon #im still taking these prompts #widomauk #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #critical role #cr: caleb #cr: mollymauk

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