#c: nikita astakhov

[lordundying]

NIKITA ASTAKHOV. birds of prey/various.

but rhea was subject in love to kronos and bare splendid children, hestia, demeter, and gold-shod hera and strong haides, and the loud-crashing earth-shaker, and wise zeus. these great kronos swallowed as each came forth from the womb to his mother's knees with this intent, that no other of the proud sons of ouranos should hold the kingly office amongst the deathless gods.

—my ocs as mythological figures [1/∞]

[honeysidesarchived]

ASTAKHOVS + NAME MEANINGS

“after love, no one is what they were before.”

[honeysidesarchived]

🤨😂 for the wip asks! 💜

lici!! thank u so much for your patience <3 ily!

▸share a line that makes no sense out of context.

“A quality wedding dress is twenty-thousand dollars, Sionis,” Nikita ground out. “And now what the fuck am I supposed to do with a twenty-thousand dollar wedding dress?”

▸share your funniest line (or dialogue exchange)

— putting this under the cut because it became SO long i just have a problem not being the most verbose bitch on the block. taken from my enemies to lovers romya wip : ' ) also under the cut for a brief mention of: gore.

Varya considers the logistics of brutalizing Zsasz to death with the decapitated head of her would-be assassin. When she's decided that the amount of gore and blood would be too tedious to clean up a second time, she turns her gaze expectantly to Roman.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” he replies after a moment. “As I’ve only ever offered to assist.”

Varya turns to Vitaly and reaches into the box. Her fingers grip hair, and she hoists—with no amount of ceremony—the head of the man who tried to kill her in her own home, setting it with a sickening thunk atop Roman’s table. The man’s eye sockets are black and carmine-crusted, and his mouth hangs open limply. Leftover blood oozes from between his lips.

“Jesus fuck!” Roman nearly yelps. “Put that thing back!”

“Unfamiliar to you?” Varya needles. There is some satisfaction in watching Roman squirm. “Doesn’t strike a chord in you?”

“No,” Roman bites out, averting his eyes from the decapitated head. “Fuck, no. Put it away.”

“Someone made an attempt on my life last night.”

“What, with your sparkling personality? Forgive my glibness, Miss Astakhova, but I'm not shocked to hear you've driven a man to try and kill you.”