#his ears should also be bigger but then they CLIP IN TO HIS HAIR so like. sigh

[multifan2022]

Fearless 6

PART 1 PART 5

Masterlist

"The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight." Your voice rang out through the shooting range, as Four passed guns out to each person. You caught the way Tris tried desperately to make eye contact with him. Trying to not feel satisfaction when he didn't look her way. "Thankfully, if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that."

Christina chuckled a little before looking your way, "Can you teach us the tuck and roll? It was flawless." You blushed slightly at the praise, something you weren't use to. You nodded and laughed a little "You will all develop your own way of getting on and off without completely fucking yourself up over time. IF you pass, so stay focused." 

"Initiation is divided into three stages. We will measure your progress and rank you according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time."

You watch Four as he stops behind Peter, a gun in his own hand, the same one everyone in the room is holding. "We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear," says Four. "Therefore each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way. The first stage is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third, primarily mental."

"But what..." Peter yawns through his words. "What does firing a gun have to do with...bravery?" Four flips the gun in his hand, presses the barrel to Peter's forehead, and clicks a bullet into place. Peter freezes with his lips parted, the yawn dead in his mouth. "Wake. Up," Four snaps. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it."

He lowers the gun. Once the immediate threat is gone, Peter's green eyes harden. You dont even try to hold in the laughter that bursts from your lips at his face. You were sure if the gun had been pressed any longer he would've shit himself. You only laugh harder when his cheeks turn bright red. 

"To answer your question...you are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you are prepared to defend yourself." Four stops walking at the end of the row and turns on his heel. "This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch Y/n." When he turns back to you, he winks before walking to lean against the wall next too you. 

You face the wall with the targets on it—one square of plywood with three red circles on it. You stand perpendicular to the target with your feet roughly shoulder width apart. Holding the gun in both hands, and fires.

 The bang is so loud it should hurt your ears but they are dead to the noise now. "For a right handed shooter, the left hand holds the forestock, elbow pointing down. The right hand holds the grip, elbow pointing out, but not exaggerated." You explain while demonstrating what you mean. 

You turn and fire a few more times, each time just making the hole at the center bigger. All their heads crane to look at your target, most in awe, while Peter just looks more pissed. "Its your turn, Four and I will be around to fix stances and answer questions... As long as they arent stupid." You say looking directly at Peter and then with a small smile at Christina. 

Watching Tris try to shoot is.. painful. She has almost emptied the clip and hasn't hit the target once. While you're in a terrific mood (wonder why) you know she will grate against that. As you walk towards them you hear Will, the Erudite boy speaking too her. "Statistically speaking,you should have hit the target at least once by now, even by accident." He is blond, with shaggy hair and a crease between his eyebrows. 

Hes struggling enough as is, he doesn't need to be correcting anyone. "Is that so?" You say sarcastically as you step between them. You lean to the side and look at his target, which he has only hit once. Looking back to him you try to keep your voice flat, it doesn't work but you tried. "Maybe you should worry about your own target kid.." 

His ears turn pink on the egdes before he turns back, Tris shoots one last time catching the end of the target.. Barley. 

She turns back to him with a smug look on her face, "Guess I got it". You scoff but before you can speak Will says "So you see, I'm right. The stats don't lie." Again you scoff, this time rubbing the muscle that connects your shoulder to your neck. 

"Will.. Sweetheart... Your Erudite is showing.. Tuck it away for me quick yeah?" You say before turning your back to him and clapping your hands together once. "Tris.. You hit the target once.. Barley hit the target once.. If that was a person it would barely qualify as a flesh wound. Depending on how big their clothes are it wouldn't even be a flesh wound.. Do NOT get cocky. Do something half ass right because your angry does not mean anything." 

Walking away from the two you can feel her eyes on you. When you look ahead Four is staring back at her, you roll your eyes before addressing the group. "In the field, the chances that you will be angry are slim. It is more likely that you will be scared, nervous or anxious. None of that should matter as a Dauntless. Your bravery and courage should overshadow everything. So when you do something in anger and it somehow comes out correct, don't take it seriously."

"Take it seriously when you can pick up any weapon and use it as an extension of yourself.  Guns, swords, bow staff.. A metal pipe you find laying around, you need to be able to pack everything besides your job and your life away." You look around refusing to look at Four again, when you see that they all have finished the ammo that has been provided you dismiss them for lunch.

 You take your lunch break in Toris chair, the stinging sensation of your new tattoo present as the ink sinks around your thigh. Tori chuckles and rolls her eyes as you roll to your stomach to get it finished. Some would be ashamed, laying here in your underwear but not you. The finger bruises on your thigh bring you nothing but joy. 

"So.. you and Four still going with this whole friends with benefits thing?" Tori asked while lining everything up. When the buzzing restarted it stung a little more than normal, due to the tenderness of your flesh. You nod and close your eyes allowing yourself a small moment of peace before having to deal with Eric who you know will be at training. 

"I dont see why you two dont just admit you have feelings for each other and get together. Spare us all the long drawn out drama." You smile at Toris bluntness, she always has such a way with her words. 

"My feelings aren't the only ones in this scenario, we both know Four doesn't like me like that. I'm just enjoying it while it lasts." You wait while Tori wipes your leg down, before standing up and handing you the shorts that will now be covering very little of your legs.

Tori looks at you incredulously "That boy has just as many feelings for you as you do him. Your both stupid. But I will be here, the ever wise old lady to hold your hands through whatever drama you both cause."   

You laugh again, feeling free for the first time in a week. The feeling is fleeting though as Tori opens her mouth and asks "How is Tris?" Your face falls and you sigh loudly, "Shes making it hard. She cant walk one line, one minute shes practically hiding behind the others begging to not be seen. Then the next shes in Fours face yelling. She cant shoot but when she clipped the edge of the target she acted like she got a bullseye first shot. I don't know how to deal with her if I'm honest. Im not Tori Wu." 

The dark haired woman in front of you steps up and cups your cheeks. "You are strong Y/n, you can do this. You have too. I don't know what but something is happening, you need to be prepared for it." 

After answering a few more of her questions, all about the new girl you tell her you need to go. Really you needed to go ten minutes ago, but who's counting?? 

When you step into the gym you take a breath to apologize for being late. But when you see Four pressed up behind Tris, his fingers pressed against her stomach as he 'instructs' her you stay quiet. Instead just making your way through the punching bags watching. Stopping only to correct Al's stance, without touching him, before walking away. 

Your showing your weakness by caring so much for him. That voice crows in your head as you keep walking. At this point you've been there a half an hour and Four hasn't noticed. When you stop next to Christina you can feel Tris's eyes burning into the back of your head. "You're doing everything right besides how you're making a fist." 

Christina stops looking down at her hands before releasing her fingers and looking back at you. You smile and congratulate her in your head, if shes silent that means shes learning. Just as you hold your hand up to show her how you want her to do it you hear Tris mumble 'How many ways are there to make a fist?' 

Taking a calming breath you slip into work mode. The mode that sets you apart from the others, the one with no feelings, no worries. Just a solid perfect work ethic. "Your wrapping your thumb around the end of your hand leaving it straight when it should be down. Wrapped over the first knuckle of your pointer finger." 

Showing  her what you mean, you watch her do it and see the annoyed look on her face. You laugh a little before continuing "I know its uncomfortable, but I promise dislocating or breaking your thumb is a lot worse. Plus once it becomes a habit you wont even think about it." You catch a few other students fixing their mistakes around you, which is encouraging. 

"Next your stance is pretty good, but I prefer having a more solid base. You stand squarely facing your target, then drop the foot on your dominant side back and out to an angle, 30 maybe 40 degrees. You should keep your feet a comfortable distance apart, but the exact difference is a matter of personal preference. Some people are taller and can keep their legs further apart like myself. But your on the shorter side so you'll want to be closer." 

The entire time you speak to her you show her with your body how to move. That small voice in the back of your mind is screaming about how you can teach without touching them. How that means Four wanted to touch her, he never touches people. You keep talking over it, trying to be the perfect teacher. Trying to show yourself why you are here. 

"Now the last and most fun part." By this point over half the class is listening to you. Four has stopped walking around and is just watching you teach, but you're studiously ignoring him.

 "The first thing to remember is that the punch should go straight forward, rather than out to the side. The idea is to send your fist out and bring it right back to its original position, with as little extraneous motion as possible.If you flare your arm out, like in the movies, your target will have plenty of time to avoid or block the strike—and you're going to leave yourself wide open to getting a punch in your own face."

"The full punch motion stems from turning your hips." After demonstrating again you watch as Christina does it, smiling at her and offering her a high five. You turn to watch the others and feel pride bloom in your chest as they all start performing the task correctly. 

"Good job Tina.. Peter, Al and Will.. You are all doing well. Keep it up, that's how we work our way up the board." You saw the shock on everyone's face as you congratulated Peter, but you needed to be as unbiased in the 'classroom' as you could. If he failed it wasn't going to be said that you had it out for him. 

You were not going to tarnish your reputation, because of some spoiled brat whose parents told him he was better than others. He would fuck up, and you would be there to catch him. But until then you have to do your best to treat everyone equally. Even Tris. 

After ten more minutes you dismiss them for the night. Reminding them when they need to be in their dorms and not to go out without someone. You make your way out in front of the group, still trying to avoid what is sure to be an awkward conversation with Four.

~

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@coolestgirlhere @everydayisordinary @hannahbeezz @cat-lockwood @parkmiraesworld @leclerc13

Boring part, sorry guys! Ill try harder on the next chapter!

[prisonhannibal]

hi there! i’ve just seen some of your posts about your traditional jewellery and it’s stunning. i apologise if this is inappropriate to ask, but would it be offensive if someone not from your culture were to wear it? if it is okay, do you have recommendations for stores where people can buy them? they are really beautiful :)

thank you for asking! short answer no it’s not offensive, long answer it depends on how you do it.

I’d say the most important thing is that you have to buy from actual sámi people and supporting their businesses, not “lapland native jewelry” stuff on etsy and definitely not weird tourist shop knockoff shit. A lot of real sámi jewelry and duodji (handmade crafts like leather bags and bracelets etc) will be expensive because it’s usually handmade, most jewelry is silver, and it’s often made by people who do it on their free time next to another job. a lot of them i’ve bought from will have like one or two pairs of each earrings not mass produced stuff so it’s expensive. It’s good to support sámi businesses :) I see a lot of sámi jewelry makers say that everyone can wear their stuff.

I think you should probably avoid stuff that’s very specifically for the gákti, because most of us think people who aren’t sámi shouldn’t wear a gákti unless it was given to them as a gift. That would mean stuff like the risku (the big brooch we wear on the liidni or the chest of the gákti) and i’d also definitely feel weird about people wearing wedding jewelry if they’re not sámi. same thing with other gákti accessories not just jewelry. If you’re not sure you can ask! Be careful about rings because they can have different meanings like marital status.

I’ve gotten most of my jewelry from people who have booths at festivals and markets, and most of them don’t have online shops unfortunately but I think you can email them to buy from them? I don’t remember all of them, but the earrings i’ve posted are from lilleli and so are most of my favorite earrings but i bought those from her in person. Bigger stores you can order from online would be for example juhls and tana gull og sølvsmie, and the hair clip I posted a picture of is from erica huuva who has a lot of very beautiful stuff i’ve bought from there several times and it’s always beautiful ❤️

I make my own earrings for fun and i’ve given them away to non sámi people lol

[those-late-night-feels]

Stargazing

Summary: You and Loki have been nothing more than friends in order to protect your heart. But when Thor makes an announcement, you realize your heart will break anyways.

A/N: Clearly I enjoy writing these angst filled drabbles. Please let me know what you think and if I should continue this one. I need the feedback!

The grass tickled the back of your knees while gazing up into the night sky. Any common onlooker would have assumed you were stargazing, and perhaps you were, but you were also wondering if he was anywhere in that great expanse above. 

"Loki, where are you?" you whispered to yourself, a habit started a month ago when he hadn't returned. It had been three months since he had stopped by to inform you that he and Thor were to leave on a mission to another galaxy, assuring you that he would be back before you knew it, but after the first month came and went, you started to wonder if he was ok. Would you have heard if he was injured? If he was dead? You assumed someone would tell you, but just in case, you tended to lurk around during meetings and debriefings. 

Eyes watering, you wiped away the side of your face. You most definitely were not crying over him, you told yourself. Loki had become a very close friend, but never your lover. On nights when you were working late, he would make sure to escort you back to your apartment safely, kissing your hand before you went inside, but was never invited inside. Not because you didn't want to, but because you didn't want to open your heart that much to him, only to know how it would end. He was a god and you were a mortal. When Natasha would raise her eyebrows at you and him together, you rolled your eyes back and swatted her. He was a perpetual flirt, but that was the end of it. 

Looking up into the night sky reminded you of the time he had brought you out to the balcony of Stark Tower, a plethora of blankets and cushions propped up to lounge on, and two cups of tea steaming on a side table. Curled up in your own personal blanket, he pointed out constellations and stories from his life out there in other worlds. He felt so much bigger than you, and in that moment, you felt so insignificant and small next to this fascinating god. Staring more at him than the stars, wide-eyed and jaw-dropped, he told tales of him and Thor in battles with other worlds. 

"Wow, Loki, I think the most fascinating story I could tell you is my trip abroad during college."

He laughed gently at your embarrassment and reached over to tuck a wisp of hair behind your ear. "You are more fascinating than you give yourself credit for, y/n."

Knowing he was just being kind, you tried not to roll your eyes at him. "Right, I'm sure they will be writing history books for centuries to come about Pepper Pott's assistant from small-town middle America."

"Maybe not history books, but there could be volumes of poetry written about the beautiful mortal that bewitched a god."

A cool breeze blew through and you hesitated at his words, pulling the blanket closer around. Oh, he had a silver tongue indeed. But then, the reality of the situation hit and you cocked your head to the side with an incredulous look on your face. 

"I think you're confusing me with one of your chambermaids, Loki," you said, and pushed him to the side to get more comfortable, snuggling him in the process. He hummed in response as he wrapped his arm around you, and you asked him to tell you more about the stars.

Often you would think back to that night, how much of what he had said was truth versus an awful attempt at wooing you to his bed. Truth or not however, he was out there and you were stuck on earth. 

It was six more days before news had spread of a rainbow bridge spotting, and social media clips confirmed it. He and Thor didn't stop by the Avengers compound immediately, and you didn't see Loki for another few days. You tried to distract yourself with extra work; your apartment was as spotless as it had ever been and Pepper was nearly running out of tasks for you. 

When you finally heard Thor's booming laugh through the halls, you were coming back from a coffee run and found the two gods in a briefing room talking with half the Avengers team. Leaning against the doorway, you caught Loki’s eye before anyone else had noticed. "I know you're both gods and all, but three months isn't exactly 'be right back' time for humans."

His eyes were warm and a hint of a smile formed on his lips for a moment, but as Thor wrapped his arm around his adopted brother, he cringed again.

"Yes, well," Thor said with a slight laugh. "We came to be quite busier than expected. Some of us more than others."

Loki blinked hard in annoyance. "I don't believe they all want to hear you drone on about the boring details, Thor. Perhaps you should go up to meet with the rest of the team."

"Alright, alright, and tonight we celebrate!"

Sam scoffed. "Not that I don't enjoy a good party, but I don't think we need to celebrate every time you guys return to Earth."

"Well, that, and Loki's betrothal," Thor explained.

The room erupted in shock and celebration. But the noise was silenced by the ringing in your ears. He cringed as his gaze met yours, a concerned look on his face as others rushed past you to give their congratulations and you tried to comprehend the words you had just heard. Like an idiot you stood there, trying to play it off cool. Here he was, the person you couldn't stop thinking about for the last three months, even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself, and the moment he came back into your life, you were hit like a ton of bricks. Faking a smile, you slipped out of the room, hoping your exit was unnoticed and started walking. Past offices, past the main lobby, past the entrance. If anyone had called out to you when you left, you didn't hear. Leaning over to grab onto your knees on the busy sidewalk, you took in a deep breath, choking down a sob to hold it together. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a park downtown. On a bench in the shade, you questioned why this hurt so much. From the beginning, you would not allow yourself to give into his flirtatious advances. And he certainly had made it difficult. His close interactions, his little gestures, the slight touches here and there. How he’d look after you during Tony’s numerous parties when you’d drink a little too much and become clumsy. It was the only time you would allow yourself to let your guard down with him, a little liquid courage. Brazenly flirting with him, he would smile and his eyes would go dark, knowing there was more truth to your words than you were letting on, but shockingly he would not allow your advances to go any further than those words. He’d watch you all night, making sure you were taken care of, that you drank enough water, that you weren’t taken advantage of, but at the end of the night, when you asked him with a pout why you had to go home with Natasha instead of him, he’d put your jacket on you and whisper in your ear, “Because my dear mortal, if I am to take you home, I want you to be fully conscious and of a sound mind for the things I would do to you.” 

Like a deer in headlights, you’d look at him, swallowing hard, and he’d kiss your cheek, whispering goodnight. In the light of the morning sun, you would kick yourself for how you acted, and your guard would be up again.

You shook the self-pitying feeling from your body, decided you were better than this. If this was what had been written in the stars, then so be it. You poured a large glass of wine that night and took a long bath, melting any cares away. The wine glass was half finished and the tub drained when he knocked on your door. Tightening the bathrobe wrapped around your body, those lustrous blue-green eyes met yours.

"Shouldn't you be out celebrating?"

He followed in behind you, shutting the door while a kettle was put on the stove. "And why exactly would I do that?"

The lack of response was deafening, choosing not to risk saying the words and breaking down. You would not cry over him.

"You disappeared after Thor's ill-conceived announcement."

Tea and hot water were poured into cups, adding a splash of milk to yours. "I wasn't in a celebrating mood."

He ignored the cup of tea offered to him on the table, staring only at you. "And what kind of mood are you in?"

A knot formed in your stomach and your eyelashes fluttered. He wasn't doing this now. Not when you were this vulnerable. When your emotions were running wild. "I don't think that's of any importance, Loki."

Your voice wasn't as strong as you had hoped and it was the sign he needed to take a step closer. The tea leaves floating in the cup swirled in a circle. "My darling, it is more important than you realize."

Frustrated, you breathed heavily, staring down at the carpet, too much of a coward to look him in the eye. "This isn't fair, Loki. You… you're… I'm not some prize to be won for a night before you are married!"

Irritation and grief pulsed through your veins. His fingers brushed under your chin, tilting your head to meet his eyes. His brow was furrowed. "Do you think that is what you mean to me? A prize to be won?" You didn't respond. "I have told you before, y/n…. I am enamored by you."

His thumb brushed up your jawline and your eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his touch. You felt him lean in closer. 

"And yet, you are betrothed."

He let your chin go in frustration. "This betrothal is a political contract between worlds, for alliance purposes only. I don't even know who she is. This isn't love, it's words. I am a god and I have a duty… " He paused and looked at you. "But it's not love."

Your gut turned, a pain in your chest from his words. Your brain swirled, not sure how to process, what to do. But what matter was it to you? He said it himself, he was a god….

“I think you need to leave, Loki,” you whispered. Turning toward the front door, you placed your hand on the knob. He paused, but followed behind you, hovering.

You could feel him there, his proximity making your breath catch in your throat. As you turned to him, your lips collided with his, and an aching moan left your throat. It wasn’t an accident, whether it was him leaning in, or you faltering forward, both of your bodies had been drawn to each other. Lips stayed still as he inhaled deeply. Hands were frozen, afraid to take things further or break apart. Trembling, you felt his mouth open slightly, on the precipice of losing control and allowing him to ruin you.

When you finally pulled away, lips pink and swollen, he looked down with such desire and wanting. You felt your robe start to give way and you grasped onto his hand violently. His eyes roamed from where you clasped his hand up to your face. “Tell me to stop.”

But you couldn’t say another word to him, afraid that if you opened your mouth, it would turn into a “yes,” a “please,” a “don’t stop.” So, you opened the door and let go of his hand. 

[cloudbattrolls]

Glass Among Murk, Part 1

Ginger Mycoba | Present Night | Bukit Berongga

This drabble is preceded by Conquest, Set Forth and followed by Glass Among Murk, Part 2.

Ginger was really tempted to turn around right as their convoy pulled into the hazard site, a hilly area near the city of Selatak. It was as hot as an overcrowded hospital and muggy on top of that, but luckily, their armor was enchanted to disperse the worst of it. They only mildly sweated underneath the gray metal at the moment. 

The real headache was the Fleet officials there at the edge of the perimeter, stiff and starched as dried fish, which meant everything was about to suck for at least a solid two hours. At least the trio was wearing face masks; not every official did. 

They probably shouldn’t have ridden Dunny in, his hooves gently clopping against the muddy earth, but they needed the space. As much as they liked most of their employees, the vehicles they traveled in weren’t especially roomy in terms of living quarters, and Ginger was bigger and taller than everyone else. 

Their staff all got out of their way like it was second nature. Which was helpful, except when it wasn’t.

If only these losers would move themselves, Ginger thought, sighing and urged Dunny forward. They then dismounted a few feet from the fleet trolls, their horse’s white tail swishing back and forth as they did. The officials stood around a small table, the portable kind that fleet armies used all the time. The armies and Ginger’s crew, who also had to set up and take down their facilities on short notice.

“Mycoba.” Said one curtly, an indigo who seemed to be in charge judging by the fanciness of her outfit and the various pins on her shirt. Also her scowl, an authoritative one belonging to someone who had too much to deal with or else not enough to keep her occupied.

“Hi.” Replied the hemoanon, not having any clue what her name was. These people should put on tags.

This made her scowl more, either from the lack of formality or because she just didn’t like what little of Ginger’s face she could see between their helmet and face mask. They’d sympathize if they didn’t know they were going to enjoy whatever she had to say even less.

“We have evacuated Bukit Berongga as best we could.” She said in a clipped voice, her accent not quite local but not too far off. 

Ginger knew this area, though not well; they’d been here about two dozen sweeps back for an outbreak stemming from the place’s corpse disposal traditions. Not a bad spot, if a little weird; the local religion revered the art of calming the dead, due to the unusually large amount of ghosts in the area.

“How many alive?”

“All of them.”

They paused, and put a hand against Dunny. 

The indigo seemed amused, though the hemoanon couldn’t see her mouth. It was her posture, her eyes, the way she leaned back slightly; her ears, like theirs, weren’t really big or flexible enough to show emotion. Plus, they were mostly covered by her long hair.

“Yes, Mycoba, all of them. They’re certainly ill, and what’s more, so is some of the wildlife…but we can’t tell from what. They don’t get better, no matter what we prescribe, but they don’t get worse. Their symptoms are all eerily similar to each other across castes, which shouldn’t happen.”

No, it seriously should not happen. What had Thrixe been doing to cause insane stuff like this?

Their mount flicked his ears, his white tail going at the flies that kept trying to bite him. The indigo eyed the plague-scarred equine with obvious dislike. Ginger couldn’t exactly blame her, but Fleet tended to frown on dismissing an entire animal into thin air even more than the animal itself.

“This is why we called you.” She said pointedly. The implication was clear: they wouldn’t have if there was any other option.

“I thought it was for the pleasure of my company.” Rumbled the horseman. “Feeling a little unloved here.”

She rolled her purple eyes. “You’re lucky you can’t be replaced.” 

Yet. The unsaid word rippled behind its audible sentence.

“Speak with Arvist, he can debrief you on what we know of the disease.” She said, waving a hand to gesture at a cerulean man looking distinctly wilted from the heat, his horns cut unusually short. “Go to Ngatal if you require supplies or further information about the hills themselves. Do not send for me unless it’s an emergency.”

The last Fleet troll was an olive, to Ginger’s mild surprise, as the indigo woman walked away into a nearby tent and they were left with her two subordinates. The olive - who didn’t seem to be a man or a woman - flipped her off as she turned away and the hemoanon smiled behind their mask as the cerulean vainly tried to push their hand down.

“Hey.” Said Ginger, genial, as the two spun to look at them. 

Arvist looked frightened, his pointy ears narrowed, while Ngatal seemed annoyed, given their stance. Maybe it was lingering annoyance at their boss. Manager. Whichever.

“What do you want?” Said the olive sharply, hair cropped almost to their skull, light clothing worn over a slim build with a small chest. What skin Ginger could see looked pretty scarred, while the cerulean didn’t have a mark on him as he flapped his hands at his coworker, muttering at them to please stop. Interesting duo.

“It’s fine.” Assured Ginger. “If I wanted people to be happy to see me, I’d sell ice cream. Though that might not work.” They added, deadpan and thoughtful.

The olive paused, squinting at them with what was probably suspicion.

“Are you going to cull these people?” Ngatal demanded, prickly, arms crossed and curled horns tilted slightly forward.

Ginger shrugged.

“Hope not.”

The cerulean laughed nervously.

���I wasn’t kidding.” They said dryly. “I don’t want to, but I have to examine them first. What are their symptoms?”

Arvist fumbled in his sylladex for a clipboard, one reminded them of Leshwi’s own. The olive had wanted to come with them, but they’d asked her to stay until they came back, not wanting to potentially expose her to some unknown germ, even with protection. She had been less than thrilled, but Ginger could manage the greenblood’s disapproval if it meant she stayed behind. 

I’m not a pupa, Ginger, she’d said impatiently. I can handle a new disease.

Hope not, or I’d get in trouble for buying you booze most holinights, they’d replied, deadpan.

She’d half laughed, half sighed, then given them a skeptical look.

What’s the real reason you don’t want me there? She’d asked, point blank. 

They appreciated that about her. Some trolls got too fidgety and nervous around them, others were passive aggressive or spiteful. 

If she didn’t die at some point - always a big if - they had no idea how much longer she’d want to be their assistant. Some of them didn’t last all that long, if they didn’t die first. 

Leshwi had lasted sweeps. Great on the professional level.

Bad for Ginger personally. 

Humor me, they’d replied, neutral as usual. I’ll tell you later.

The look in her olive eyes had expected a very good explanation when they got back.

—-

After some discussion with Arvist and Ngatal, Ginger set off toward the field hospital, seated on Dunny again. It was further than they’d originally expected, but apparently, the indigo - whose name they had been told and still couldn’t remember - had placed herself and her staff as far as possible from the sick trolls and the staff looking after them while still being in contact range.

It wasn’t ideal terrain for riding. The Hollow Hills - Bukit Berongga in the local language - lived up to their name, and they were climbing one right now. Ginger kept leaning to adjust their center of gravity so Dunny could carry them better, heavy as they were. He might be supernaturally strong, hardy, and calm, but they still didn’t want to put extra strain on him. 

He wasn’t pure magic; just enhanced from a baseline horse - as far as they understood it, anyway. Their skills in enchantment began and ended on objects, with living beings distinctly above their skill level. Especially ones that had been around since the first Mycoba, thousands of sweeps ago.

They kept their reins loose, but not dangling as their white mount clip-clopped closer to the highest point, pressing down lush grass with every step; didn’t want him to catch a hoof. Especially because once they cleared the top…

…well, once they cleared the top they let out a low whistle of mild awe as they looked down on the field hospital and the state it was in.

The whole place was covered in mud and overgrown foliage, carpets of heart of Sufferer and other plants they didn’t know creeping from the ground and drowning out the earth below. The white of the medical tents could hardly be seen under the grime clinging to them, the weight of it pressing the material down a bit. 

Sure enough, as the indigo had said, there were also animals moving sluggishly and strangely through the mire - small deer and wild pigs, a few smaller animals they didn’t know the names of. They stopped and started jerkily as they waded through the plants and muck, and appeared to be coughing just like the trolls had been reported.

Something was wrong here. Something had been different here for a long time, their senses told them, now that they were reaching out to look for it. This activity wasn’t wholly new. Traces of a similar energy had been sunk into the hills for millennia…

…but what exactly, they couldn’t tell. 

If only supernatural awareness functioned like scientific instruments did, they internally grumbled, cautiously riding Dunny down. They’d have to dismount before long - this terrain was no good for him - and they’d have to start reducing the plants. Not much they could do about the mud for now.

Ginger pulled a list of the local flora diseases out of their sylladex, one prepped for them by their staff. 

Wasn’t a good idea to introduce something foreign, even if it was isolated to one area. They could stop the generation of anything they introduced, but not its subsequent spread from biological momentum. Wouldn’t that be handy, but the point of being Pestilence was - in theory - to do the exact opposite. 

Xanthomonas was a good first bet. Classic immune system hijacker; the plants couldn’t keep growing if they were blighted from the inside out and their defenses had been overwritten. Any rogue bacteria now had immediate ability to go to town rotting the plants.

Ginger nudged Dunny down, and as their horse’s hooves made his careful way toward the mess of greenery, every hoof print in the mud left curling strands of yet more bacteria, twisting and rising away into the air like silver thread. Seeking food and shelter, the microbes immediately latched onto the feast waiting for them. 

Before the pair had even made it to the bottom, the plants had already been reduced by a quarter. Consumed leaf, stem, and flower before their very eyes, small patches of ground were visible again beneath the still-thick swaths of herbiage.

Dummy snorted and tossed his head as they got to the edge of the plants and close to the tents, his ears flicking as he stopped in place. Ginger frowned behind their facial mask as they felt his muscles tense beneath their saddle.

“What’s wrong, buddy?”

The horse couldn’t talk. He wasn’t really that much smarter than a regular animal. But he almost never got nervous.

The sense of difference hummed at the edge of their senses again like a heat haze, a difference only compounded by this unnatural spread, not started by it. Bukit Berongga. What was different about this place? Ginger could sense Thrixe’s power, but underneath it was…

…more eldritch remnants, of the same exact aspect, they realized with shock. That was why the disease - and plants - were growing so fast. But these other bits of power were old - ancient - so they must be deep underground, normally inactive. They could detect them only faintly, like roots branching out deep, deep below the dark earth.

Another Varzim had been here once.

He meddles with the world. Just like his ancestor.

Just how much did Cyvell know about this? Or was this a coincidence?

The hemoanon set their jaw, and urged Dunny forward.

Only one way to find out.

[starfall-spirit]

A Court of Twisted Wisdom

Summary: See ACOTW Masterlist

Chapter IX: Carynthian

Ayla

Two males.

One golden-haired, the other wine red.

The three of us stood in a triangular formation, our blades pointed to the true center, directly over a large black bowl. My hands were burning where I gripped the hilts of my favorite weapons but I couldn't drop them. Yielding the blades made for a dark future.

~~~~

I woke with a groan as an obnoxious banging clanged through my room. "What the hell?!"

In my cocky father came, banging a wooden spoon and steel pot. "Rise and shine, kid. It's time for celebration."

"Celebrating what?" I snarled, misting his current weapons of choice.

"I'm offended!"

"Be glad it was the pot and spoon and not you," I retorted. I'm lucky he doesn't care that I'm mouthy.

"Children, play nice," Uncle Az drawled from the doorway.

"Dear Uncle, please tell my loving father to take his celebration elsewhere so I can sleep."

The culprit grinned. "Well, Az, I guess little miss I-reached-the-top doesn't care about initiation day. You wanna go tell Rox she's—"

I scrambled out of the bed, practically falling on my face. "I'm up! I'm up!" I shoved my father back over the threshold, slamming the door on both of them so I could get bathed and dressed. I was finished bathing in fifteen minutes and when I returned to my room I found a new set of leathers, this one adorned with silvery swirls through the black, the design seeming more formal than the everyday training leathers. I could also see the cut of the armor was different, showing a bit more elegance. A slip of paper rested on top of them, the scrawls of Uncle Rhys' handwriting present.

Ceremonial leathers, custom-made a few weeks back. I knew you'd make it. Wear them with pride, Carynthian.

Still in a robe, I sat to brush and braid my hair before sliding into the black and silver outfit on my bed. It fits like a second skin, of course. I grinned before flouncing out of my room to meet my family for breakfast. I plopped down between Mor and Nyx. "Well, aren't you in a good mood," my cousin commented, passing me a large bowl of fruit salad.

"Should I be in a bad one?"

"No. I just figured considering—"

"A lot of people got hurt on the mountain. I'll hold my head as high as any other survivors there today. Where's Rox?"

"Getting dressed, I think," Nyx informed me, only a second later whining, "You're gonna outrank me now."

I smirked. "Brains versus brawn, dear cousin. Brains versus brawn."

My father snickered at my retort, a proud Carynthian himself. "Well-spoken."

~~~~~

I had no doubt that there would be questions throughout the camp. I had returned earlier by winnowing in with Rox, begging the question of if I belonged here anymore. When I flew in, making a steady landing the camp was dead silent. I didn't need any gift to know what was running through their heads at that moment.

"They're flying."

"Initiation leathers."

"Here with the High Lord, spymaster, and general."

Uncle Az squeezed my shoulder before leaning down. "Get in the line up, girls. Keep your heads high. If any of the males near you so much as think of touching you they'll be dealing with their worst nightmare."

I nodded, following his order and standing to the right of an abnormally tall warrior. "Glad to see you're still with us."

I eyed the male to my left, noting the trademark hazel eyes and dark hair of most Illyrians. Two oddballs in a bigger group, Rox and I had taken after our mothers from ears to hair to eyes. "Pardon me?"

"Everybody knows what happened up there." My stomach twisted. No. Not everything, I told myself. Only Uncle Rhys knows. I cocked my head, keeping my expression neutral even as two more warriors came up beside Roxanna in my right periphery. "Clipped and killed on Devlon's orders."

He was on the mountain too. Likely a good way lower than we had been, seeing as we were the only two to reach the stone. He just heard rumors. Before I could respond a firm hand fell on my shoulder, making me jump. Az showed no emotion in response to my reaction. Good. I don't need pity. "We're doing initiation by rank. You're the last ones. Head down to the end."

I nodded, a bit relieved and also praying the conversation wouldn't start over as I moved down the line from the back side. As I stepped into place the initiation began, the voice of our High Lord ringing through the camp. I noticed Roxanna straightening slightly, now to my left. There was a big difference between our father and uncle and our High Lord. "Do you pledge to serve your court and its legions by air and ground from this day forward until you enter eternity?" he asked the first warrior, referencing Prythian's death prayer.

"By my life and honor I vow to serve, High Lord."

"I name you Arktosian."

Down the line he went, naming the Arktosian before moving on to the Oristian. Only three this year, including the male I'd spoken to a few moments prior. "Do you pledge to serve your court and its legions by air and ground from this day forward until you enter eternity?"

The voice that responded chilled my blood, snatching the air from my lungs. "By my life and honor I vow to serve, High Lord." I masked my terror but just then my uncle chose to look in my direction. He could still read me. Not mind to mind. Just reading me like a book.

He's one of them. He didn't die that night.

"Tell me," he began to improvise, throwing a blanket of tension over the camp, "just out of curiosity, what was the most monstrous thing you did when getting through this Rite."

"Pardon me, my lord?" Not your typical initiation question. Even Aunt Feyre was giving her mate an odd look.

"No one comes out of there without killing, but some other activities you've been named guilty of are most definitely not required." The tang of the male's fear filled the area around us. "Ayla, come here."

I stiffened at the command but stepped forwards and across the few people between myself and my head attacker. Roxanna had kept the same mask on as I had, but I'd identified the male's voice. I faced the male and that night hit me all over again. Phantom bruises had my body throbbing and the memory of him thrusting into me nearly had me loosing my new-found power on the bastard. I gave a firm nod in a double confirmation. "Take your place again."

I obeyed, starting towards the end of the line. "Has she told you what she did to us in return? Abuse of her inheritance is what I'd call it. Hardly sportsmanlike. At least things started out fine. I wouldn't mind another round of—" He fell to his knees, roaring in agony. The smallest thought had the bones in his wings shattering. Not a few clean breaks. An agonizing destruction that left the bones in thousands of fragments. "You bitch!" he spat. "You heartless bitch!"

One last thought snapped his neck, my face cold as he slumped to the floor. All eyes were on me yet mine only went to my uncle's. "Can we continue now?"

He nodded once, showing no opinion of my violent behavior even as I looked past him to see the shock of my gathered family. There were now two warriors between him and me. One. I took a deep breath as the male nearest me was named Oristian.

"Roxanna." I couldn't hold back my tiny smile. She was the only one he addressed by name, the same pride he'd had for Nyx radiating between them. It was obvious, but the crowd had expected their High Lord to have a favorite today. "Do you pledge to serve your court and its legions by air and ground from this day forward until you enter eternity?"

"By my honor and my life I vow to serve."

"I name you Carynthian."

Her right hand twitched as a swirling pattern appeared on the back of her hand, tiny symbols I didn't have time to study woven between the diamond-shaped mandala of shadows. My uncle took the last few steps to reach me.

"Ayla. Do you pledge to serve your court and its legions by air and ground from this day forward until you enter eternity?"

"By my honor and my life I vow to serve. On my family's names I vow to defend our court until my last breath." I barely caught that upward flick of his brow at the breaking of the traditional vows. But that shock was simply replaced with greater pride.

"I name you Carynthian." A physical chill shot down my spine, seeming to be the complete opposite feeling others had described when their tattoos appeared. Still I was thrilled to know I now had a mark to show I had survived the Blood Rite. Uncle Rhys turned to the crowd. "May our newest warriors serve with pride. Let the festivities begin."

Previous | Next

~~~~~

Tag List: Message/ask/comment to be added or removed.

@goddess-aelin // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @faeriequeensuriel

AN: I know this is a day late. I forgot last night. Sorry. I'll try to get the promised Renaissance chapter out by tonight, but it's gonna be a busy day.

[darkfinch]

so I was going to ask if you'd ever played stardew valley as quinn, as well as just making the character on there? because it's a thing I've been considering on-and-off myself - but now I definitely need to know if you've ever created rabbit on there, because "grouchy hermit befriends junimos, runs errands for evelyn, is world's best forager" is… surprisingly plausible and very very good. and also if you have and if you like you can show him to us. :3

so i have this problem where. okay. hi i have mental illness. i have this problem where if i put a fictional character i like into a video game, i get Genuinely Very Sad for them if i can't make their favourite people Also be in the video game, so i played a couple of days with quinn living his best farm life and was like. this is the wrong eliot. this is not the true grandma. linus is not rabbit and i'm sad about it

for similar reasons i. would love to make grouchy rabbit have farm adventures but the fact that his specific favourite kiddo could not visit him..............heartbreaking alarming 0/10 i just cannot do it i have several unwellnesses about the whole thing. would love to give him chickens tho

i DID make rabbit in the SIMS 4 (my video game of choice), but i had a similar issue of just. oh good great good so i also need to make babusia and her house of murder infants AND the butcher of kiev so he can have hitter hangouts AND a quinn (AND an eliot for quinn, AND a parker and a hardison for eliot) AND hope that the game doesn't generate a terrible storyline for them while i'm not looking. sigh. so i did not do that

(here's rabbit in the sims. they will not let me make him look Gaunt And Tired enough theyre CENSORING me:)

[english8muffin]

Vogue morning routine

Y/N Y/N/L’s guide to effortless natural makeup

Summary: you are asked to do the Vogue Beauty Secrets video and your two boys decide to join the party

Word count: around 2000

Warning: none, just pure floof!

I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language (+ this is my very first fic)

HEADLINE Henry Cavill’s new girlfriend, designer Y/N Y/L/N reveals her everyday morning routine in recent Vogue video: Y/N Y/L/N shows off her secrets to the perfect fusion of European and Asian beauty.

You stood in the spacious bathroom of the hotel room, only wearing a big, fluffy, white robe, that was actually Henry’s. But since the man was in the gym, you took the opportunity to lend it and bathe yourself in his musky smell, that calmed your nerves. Last night you started panicking, thinking you would probably look stupid for the entire world to see, luckily Henry and Kal tried to calm you down with cuddles and kisses.

This was the first ‘interview’ you would do, being such a young, successful entrepreneur really caught the attention of the media. When you first started your small online shop, you never would have thought you would end up here. Five years later, with a steady income, the job you always wished for and the man you had a crush on since the first time you laid eyes on him. Being a creative, it really made your heart soar with happiness, seeing all your products, your babies, in new homes where they would make others happy.

You were really proud of yourself. Henry was as well, and he made sure you and everybody around you knew. You were apprehensive at first, being with such a well known actor, who was also much older than you, it made you nervous of what people would say, what the media would say. You didn’t want to tarnish Henry’s image. You knew there were people with a much bigger age gap, but still, people were ruthless. So you both decided to take it slow, being careful with going out in public and social media posts.

You stand in front of the large mirror, which had a camera attached to it and open up your makeup bag. Right before you went into the bathroom, you made yourself a nice cup of tea, trying to stay calm. “Hi! I’m Y/N and today I am going to show you my everyday makeup routine,” you say with a smile, “I am not a dermatologist so please don’t take what I say too seriously.”

You grab a small white washcloth and hold it up, so it was in the frame, “First, I am going to wash my face and put on a few drops of serum,” You dampen the cloth and wipe it over your face and neck. You put a few drops in the palm of your hand and pat them into your skin. “Now I going to use my jade roller to massage the serum into my skin. It’s quite funny seeing so many people use these nowadays. In ancient China they were mostly used by the elite to keep there skin ageless. They would call jade the Stone of Heaven. It’s really helpful for the people who wake up with a puffy face like me,” you chuckle.

Somethimes you’d wake up with puffy cheeks, which led to Henry calling you his chubby bunny in the morning.

“Just a quick tip, and this is for everybody, make sure you always use SPF. I personally use SPF 30 and this one is shine control, since I tend to get an oily skin, but you can also use a regular one or a foundation with SPF in it. Believe me when I say your skin will be thankful.”

You grab the small tube of sun cream and show the amount you’ll use. You even convinced Henry to wear SPF everyday. At first he said he didn’t think it would make such a big difference, but when he realised you were going to be the one to put it on him, he was convinced about its benefits and adamant to wear it everyday. After working the thick cream into your skin, you put on some lipbalm and rummage through the pouch in front of you. When you find the product you’re looking for, you hold it up. “Now, I am going to put on a bit of concealer, this one is from Maybelline. After this, I will use a lighter shade under my eyes and on my acne scars that I have here,” you point and circle around the small cluster of scars on the sides of your cheeks.

Before blending out the concealer, you smile at the lens and put in two bright yellow hairclips, to keep your dark locks from falling into your face. “I probably should have done this at the start,” you laugh. The nerves creeping up a little. It wasn’t that you where a shy person, but knowing thousands of people will watch this, did something to you. You were always a very easygoing person, who could talk with pretty much everybody. But knowing people were going to watch you do something so intimate in a way, and would probably comment on it, scared you a little. While you would be 100% yourself, doing something as mundane as getting ready. If they didn’t like you now, then they probably won’t like you later. And that was what made you so afraid.

The bathrobe falls a bit down your shoulder, but you ignore it, since your hair fell down your shoulders in big waves. “Okay, brows. I used to block them in really dark when I was younger, but now I try to keep a light hand. I’ll use this Got 2B Glued as a brow gel afterwards. The tails of my eyebrows tend to move if I don’t use a strong enough gel. If you’re Asian you will understand the struggle.”

You quickly finish your brows, put some bronzer on your face and eyelids and take out your liquid eyeliner. “Am I the only one that acts like I’m a beauty guru whenever I do my makeup? Like, I’m just acting as if I’m used to this, right now, but to be honest, I was really nervous to do this video for Vogue,” you admit, “they will probably regret asking me,” you chuckle. You finish your eyemakeup with curling your long lashes, thanks to your mother’s genes, and add a coat of mascara.

You take in a deep breath, excited to show everyone the product you had been waiting for. “The next thing I am really proud to show you guys, because I designed the packaging. This is the new limited edition blush and highlighter palette from Dior, which they created for Lunar New Year!” You beam with pride, holding up the elegant looking palette. It had a darker toned glossy finish and the borders were the traditional Chinese looking frames, which were 3D and were surrounded by a wild variety of peonies. In the middle of the lid was your Chinese calligraphy in big golden brush stokes that said ‘year of the Ox’, the clasp was designed so it resembled an antique Chinese coin and on the side hung a jade charm.

“You can pre-order this palette now, I think they will put a link-thingy in de description. I wish you all a happy and blessed Lunar New Year, 祝农历年新年快乐牛年大吉!”

Just as you’re about to add some blush to your cheeks, the bathroom door creaks open and a curly-headed, sweaty Henry pops his head in. Fresh from the gym, and were you thankful for his new intense workout, because he was truely a sight to behold. A cheeky smile graces his handsome face when he spots you in front of the mirror, only wearing his robe, which made his grin widen.

“what are you doing in here? Are you hiding from me? Playing hide and seek is it?” he teases and rakes his large hand through the tousled curls, but just as he’s done speaking, he sees the camera behind you, and blushes. “Oh, I didn’t know you were filming, I’m sorry darling,” he smiles and gives a small wave in the direction of the camera. You led out a giggle, cheeks turning red already, if he’d keep this up, you wouldn’t need to add blush. You couldn’t focus anymore, he looked so attractive, only wearing his black gym shorts and a tight dark blue tank top. Damn that camera, otherwise you would have jumped him. Henry, thought the exact same thing. Seeing you, only wearing his robe and your hair still a bit wild from this morning’s cardio, made him hold back a moan. Those two cute, yellow clips in your hair could have fooled him, because you were anything but innocent.

Before he’s about to close the door again, he blows you a kiss. But his actions are stopped when a big bear makes his appearance. Bolting past his dad’s legs, Kal comes into the bathroom. Henry tries to catch him but misses. The black and white akita excitedly sniffs his head around the sink, trying to see what you were up to with all the stuff lying on the marble counter.

“Kal!” Henry whisper-yelled, trying to stay hidden behind the door. But you could still see his massive body crouched down behind the wood. It was rather funny, seeing the large man so panicked about getting his dog to listen. It kind of reminded you of that one video from BBC were a professor was being interviewed and his baby and nanny showed up in the background. While Henry tried to get Kal’s attention, the dog just sat next to your legs, and smiled when you pet him behind his ear. He was your good boy.

You both knew there was no other option but to keep Kal here, once he saw you do your makeup, he wanted to watch and get his ‘makeup’ done as well.

Henry also saw the look in Kal’s eyes and let out a sigh. Might as well stay with his two loves. He stood up from his position and walked to you, wrapping his sweaty but oh so save body around your figure, and placed a prolonged kiss on the exposed skin just by your shoulder. So far for taking it slow… He pressed himself thighter against your back, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and intertwined your hands, slowly rocking you two back en forth. “You look beautiful, my love,” he whispered, so only you could hear it, at least you hoped the camera wouldn’t pick that up. You let out a little giggle, like the inner schoolgirl you were whenever he was around you.

“Kal loves when Y/N does his makeup as well, don’t you boy,” Henry explains with a smile and looks down at the bear by your bare feet. Kal gives a small ruff and sweeps his tail eagerly. “Did you show them what you made,” he asked you with a wide smile, and looked straight in to the camera, “she worked really hard on that design, so I hope you all like it,” he declared proudly.

You ended up doing your makeup routine with your two boys in the background. Henry left for a few minutes to shower in the second bathroom your hotelroom had, and came back clad in a pair of light jogging trousers and a sweater. Even though you were inside, it was still a bit too chilly to walk around in short sleeves, being mid-winter and all. He just sat on the small wooden bench by the door, still in frame for everybody to enjoy and behold. His hair now damp. He was reading in a book and patiently waiting for you to get ready, occasionally looking up and laughing when you would wet your hands or Kal’s special makeup brush in the sink and pretend to do his makeup. The dog would bark excitedly and give you kisses. “Wow Kal, you look so pretty,” Henry told the big floof with the chuckle.

“Okay, this was my -somewhat- everyday makeup routine! Thank you guys for watching this chaotic mess, hope you laughed a bit, bye-bye, 再见!” How do those vlogger end their videos? Smash like and subscribe?

Behind you Henry looked up from the pages of his fantasy book and arched his brow, “Hey! No shout-out for your special guests? See you all next time!”

WOOHOO!! This is my very first fanfic, I really hope you enjoyed it. Liking, reposting and commenting would mean a lot to me! If you do repost this, please do not edit or copy my work. I worked really hard on this.

Much love, Nahmi xxx

Masterlist can be found HERE!

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[melancholymetropolis]

Skin

Summary:  Business Man Todoroki has been unconsciously neglecting his wife, due to his enormous workload. So, she decides to surprise him at home office.

A/N: Thank you guys for all the love you shared on my first piece! I didn't expect so many people to be so into it! If you want to commission me for a story, click here!

Warnings: This is pure filth with a dash of fluff at the end. Maybe, angst, if you squint. Reader is, also, plus sized! Shoto is a cocky little bastard, but a total simp for his wife. 

Pairings: AgedUp!Todoroki Shoto x Black!Reader

As I grabbed my bonnet off the nightstand, my eyes caught a glimpse of the clock. 12:34 AM. I sighed and looked at the neatly made bed. My husband was supposed to be on the other side, pulling back the sheet and climbing in along with me. But, like most days, he was still in his study, waist-deep in work. Frustrated, I walked to the closet and took a long look at the present I had picked up earlier that day. I was supposed to wear it the following day since he had claimed I would have his undivided attention this weekend. However, my patience had been wearing thin and I was seconds away from throwing myself at him in my birthday suit. Knowing Todoroki, he would’ve found it by the morning anyway and ruined the surprise. 

Before I could change my mind, I stripped out of my oversize cotton shirt and underwear. I threw the items in the hamper and unhooked the lingerie from the hanger. I slipped my legs into the lace cheekies and snapped the garter belt around my waist. After I shimmied into the strapless bustier, I rolled the thigh high stockings onto my legs and clipped the garter belt onto them. I tossed the bonnet on the bed and untied my boxed braids from its messy bun. I slipped my feet in the marabou lined heeled slippers and shrugged on the matching black, silk robe. I rolled on my homemade Love Potion scented oil and fluffed my eyelashes with mascara. I added a little bit of sparkling lip gloss and headed out of the room.

On the way to the study, I had tried to convince myself that what I had done was incredibly stupid and childish. But, I simply debunked that statement with “YOLO” and continued on my journey. The door to the study had been partly ajar. Through the crack, I could see Todoroki typing away on the laptop as if there had been no tomorrow. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open a little more. I knocked twice on the frame and waited for him to look up. He didn’t.

“I promise I am almost done, I just need to type this last statement and I will join you in bed,” his eyes were glued to the computer. “Just five more minutes.”

I looked down at my rose embroidered bustier and back at him. 

Should I just wait until he finished? He did say it wouldn’t be that long.

“Okay, darling?” he quickly shot a look over to me, before resuming his work on the computer. Suddenly, Todoroki stopped typing and stared at me. His mismatch eyes washed over me ever so slowly, taking in every detail. He took his sweet time to meet my eyes again and a smirk fell on his lips. “Lock the door.” 

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. I turned the lock to the left and looked back at him. The laptop had disappeared, along with the papers from on top of the desk. Todoroki loosened his tie and pulled it from his neck. He pushed his body away from the desk and leaned back in his swivel chair. 

“Come here,” his voice dropped an octave as his eyes darkened. 

I squared my shoulders and lifted my head. I stared directly at him as I took small steps toward the desk. I brushed my hands along the outside ridge before I walked in between his legs. I scooted my rear on the empty space on the desk. 

The Japanese man closed the distance between us and looked up at me. His fingers glided down the base of my thigh before wrapping around my heeled foot. Todoroki slipped the shoe from my foot and dropped it on the floor. He repeated the action with my other foot. His long fingers kneaded the stocking covered skin on my thigh. 

“I don't know if I should be pleased by this action or angered by it," his smooth voice dressed my ears. 

Todoroki had a way to speak with such authority and pose that it infuriated me. When he wanted to, he could switch on an Alpha persona and command my undivided attention. His voice would get deeper, huskier, and, when he spoke, it sounded as though it vibrated in my earlobes. The feather-like touches on my skin shot electricity through my skin as his gentle humming gave me goosebumps. Todoroki was well aware of how sexually attracted I was of him and would use these tactics against me. Sometimes even in public. The amount of underwear I ruined because of this was laughable. But he didn’t care since it meant that he would see me in new lingerie every so often. 

“Why would you be angered by this, baby?” I asked shyly.

Todoroki opened my thighs just a tab bit wider and scooted his chair closer. “Because I know—” he undid the knot on the belt of the rob. “I am gonna have to explain—” the silk slipped from my shoulders and fell on the desk. “Why my report is missing—,” Todoroki sat my heels on the arms of his chair and pulled my pelvis to the edge of the desk. “In the morning,” his hand kneaded the soft skin between my thighs. His fingers inched closer to my lace-covered womanhood and his eyes flickered to mine. The Japanese man placed his thumb on the moist area and drew small circles upon it. I took my bottom lip in between my teeth and nibbled on it. The skilled muscle slid to the top of my vulva and found the throbbing, sensitive bud. Todoroki drew bigger circles on that spot and my mouth fell open graciously. 

With a smirk on his lips, he mimicked my facial expression. “There we go. That’s the face I want,” he said as he leaned closer. “You like that, princess?”

“Mhm!” I hummed with a nod. I leaned backward on my hands and let my head fall back. 

Pushing my legs further apart, Todoroki rose from his seat. His lips left hot kisses from my navel and up my bustier. His tongue slid up my cleavage to my collarbones. My husband sucked the skin on the crook of my neck tenderly, before nibbling the skin on my neck. The bites increased until he reached my jaw. With one hand still on the sensitive bud, he found my lips. Leaning on my left hand, I laced my fingers in his hair and gave it a slight tug. I opened my mouth, greedily taking his tongue in my mouth. Todoroki flicked his thumb faster. My moans increased to desperate pants. I pulled my lips away and rested my forehead against his. I looked in his eyes as I whimpered under his touch. My legs began to shake slightly as my walls clenched against themselves. The seat of the cheekies was drenched in my arousal and clung to my vulva. My husband moved the digit faster and tingles ran through my body. My toes curled tightly as my pants became louder. I squeezed the root of his hair tighter; I never broke eye contact with him. 

Todoroki smirked deviously and removed his finger from the bud. 

“Why did you stop?” I whined with a frown.

He chuckled and unbuttoned his shirt. “Because if I don’t bury myself in that sweet cunt soon, I’m afraid I'll burst,” Todoroki said as he unbuckled his belt. 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” I replied with a tired giggle. 

Todoroki pulled his trousers and boxers down in one go. His member sprang free and bobbed a little. My walls clenched in anticipation. He stepped out of the pants and kicked them to the side. My husband looked down at my clothed core with the same anticipation I had. He unclipped the garter belt from my thigh highs and gripped the edge of underwear. He gently pulled the fabric from my hips and down my legs. Todoroki tossed the panties to the side and placed my legs back in their original position. He rubbed the tip of his member from my bud to my core before sinking himself into me. I inhaled sharply and exhaled with a low moan. The familiar sensation of him stretching my walls was always such a turn on. 

His mouth fell open and a groan poured from his mouth. “Fuck...”

I slowly rocked myself against his hips, hinting that I was ready for him. 

Todoroki started off with deep, long strokes. Savoring every moment of the transaction. Quiet moans left my mouth. The stimulation from earlier still stirring the depths of my being. The pleasure in my body had been reaching its limit and I knew my husband was nowhere near done. 

Bored with that position, Todoroki leaned back just a bit to lift my legs from the desk and rest them on his biceps. He gripped the edge of the surface I was on and began ramming himself into me. The breath in my lungs had gotten stuck in my throat and I forgot to breathe.

“Oh. . .  shit . . .” My mouth formed a large ‘o’ shape and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. 

“There’s the face I want,” he said cockily. 

I leaned back on my hands and threw my head back. “ So. . . good. . .” I grunted as I bucked my hips to meet his.

“Look at my naughty, naughty wife,” Todoroki mused lowly. “Desperately. . . ready to become undone.”

“Ugh~~~,” tingles began to flood my body. Stars flashed behind my eyelids as my legs began to shake again yet again.

Todoroki lifted my legs higher until they reached his shoulders. He continued his steady, but deep pace. His long, ebony locks began to cling to his forehead. Eyes drilling holes into my body. Todoroki slid his hands along the desk and gripped the edge near my shoulders. His member pushed deeper into my, brushing my cervix tenderly. My back slowly fell against the desk, and, to avoid an injury, Todoroki supported my neck with his hand. With hooded eyes, I looked up at him.

“I love you . . . so much,” I whispered as my toes curled tightly.

“I know,” he said with a wide smile. “I love you, too.”

The tingling stopped and a chill ran through my body. My back arched into his abdomen as my eyes rolled back. My mouth stretched open and hips pulsed against his. My nails dug into the wood of the desk. An elongated groan left my lips and I saw white. Todoroki continued to stroke in and out of the smooth canal, chasing his own finish. That actually, ultimately, further stimulated the sensitive area and elongated my climax. 

"Oh. . . My. . . GOD!" The whimper increased to high pitched shrieks. 

Todoroki drops one of my legs from his shoulder and hooks it around his waist. He tucked his arm through space my arched back made against the desk. He lifted my back from the surface, digging the bones from the bustier into my back. With my lifted leg in the air, I used my right hand to grip his shoulder as I lean forward, My left hamstring tingled a little at the position, but I pushed through it. 

“Thank God for Yoga,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh shut up— shit!” Todoroki resumed his deadly rhythm in the middle of my sentence. 

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” he replied between pants.

The potency of that new position had been lethal; each stroke caused his abdomen to briefly brush against my sensitive bud. The overstimulation caused my legs to shake violently, after a short while. A build-up of pressure found its way in my lower belly and gave off a warm sensation. I dug my nails into my husband’s shoulder and threw my head back. Incoherent words left my tongue, as water gushed from my core and onto the silk garment beneath me. Todoroki’ stroke came to an abrupt pause and a silent scream left his lips. With closed eyes, he gripped the edge of the desk tightly and pushed himself in me one more time before oozing into me. He caught his breath and ran a hand through his hair. A shallow laugh left his mouth as he pried his eyes open. Todoroki lowered my leg from his shoulder and rested a hand on my neck. Thumb on my cheek, my husband lowered his mouth to mine and gave me a passionate kiss.

I hooked my arms underneath his and placed my fingers in his hair. With his other hand flat against my lower back, he arched my body into his and deepened the kiss. He moaned against my lips.

I pulled away from the embrace and chuckled, “You never took off the bustier.”

“I didn’t want to break it,” he gave my lips a small peck. “I actually liked this one.”

“Oh. really?” I said with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t like the pink one?”

“I mean, it was nice,” Todoroki kissed along my jawline. “But, it is something about you in black. It does things to me.” He nipped the sweet spot on my neck and a shiver ran down my spine.

“Noted,” I replied with a groan. 

“But, it really doesn’t matter what you wear,” Todoroki kissed his way up my neck and raised his head to meet my eyes, “You could wear a garbage bag and I’d still rise for you.”

“Garbage bags are black, honey,” I concluded with a cheerful glint in my eyes.

“Oh, you’re right,” Todoroki said with a laugh. After a few seconds, he paused his laughter. “I just remembered. . . I have a surprise for you, too.”

“You know I hate surprises,” I groaned. 

“But, you’re gonna like this one,” Todoroki untangled our limbs and pulled away from me. He reached into a drawer and pulled out two pieces of paper. He handed them to me. 

“Plane tickets to. . . the Netherlands,” I read aloud. 

“A two-week romantic getaway,” he declared with a nod. “I have been promising you quality time for a while now, so I decided to take off of work for a little while.”

“Looks like I gotta buy some more lingerie, huh?” I questioned with a grin.

“A whole lot more,” my husband said before pulling me in for another kiss.

[ohyeah0]

Word count: 1k +

Warnings: smut, swearing, prob bad writing💀

Draco malfoy x OC

You can always imagine yourself instead 💚

[I miss us]

Btw first time writing smut so comment on tips I should use next time I write it💚🤍🖤

———————————————————————

how many years?

how many years had it been ever since the decided to split up?

9 good years gone.

not that azalea and draco didn’t love each other. they were mad for each other and while they were together not a day not and hour went by without the two together. they were Romeo and Juliet. that’s how everyone else saw it. the love they held for each other never ran out, nor did separate because of an argument. it had all happened drastically.

“mom, I’m leaving now.” azaleas thoughts were cut when her fifteen year old walked out of her room and walked towards the door. dressed in tight fitting jeans and a cropped hoodie with her hair clip in her hair she looked just like her. her eyes were the same grey-blue color with platinum blonde hair, just like her dads. “sure hun. have fun.” she hardly got out the sentence before marcelo had walked out.

the hair clip thing. the one thing that she really loves about draco was how he had a few habits to annoy her and get on her nerves. sure she screamed at him when he did some of these things but secretly her heart grew bigger whenever he did it.

☀︎︎flashback

“you look cute.” draco whispered from behind azalea who was currently talking to theo in the slytherin common room. before he could answer he had already slipped his hand into her hair and taken out the hair clip that was keeping her hair in its bun. azalea turned to watch him slip it into his pocket where he probably had a large collection stored away. he grinned at her before walking away leaving her hair sprawled across her shoulders.

☀︎︎end of flashback

through the course of their relationship the two had also done some pretty scandalous stuff. hogwarts was always strict when it came to relationships so the two always had to keep it secret. only a few people had the privilege of knowing what was going on. even when it came to sex the two had to be secretive. before draco had the private dorm they would meet up in broom closets or empty classrooms for a quick fuck session which was enough until fifth year when their hormones got the best of them and they began to take bigger risks. empty hallways and the slytherin common room where their favourite places to take risks. when they heard someone walking down the corridor it ignited a thrill within them. it seemed to make the sex better and more enjoyable. they also explored each other’s kinks. finding a partner who could please her like draco was almost impossible. anytime azalea had sex with a stranger she would reminisce things that her and draco used to do. that’s what kept her sane.

☀︎︎flashback

“ahh---- fuck Draco just like that.“ she grunted out while draco drove into her faster. the sound of skin on skin was very audible in the empty hallway and even though classes would end soon and people would flood out of their classes soon they didn’t care. draco brought his mouth down onto her neck, sucking a hickey onto the soft flesh among many others he had placed a while ago. “shit, better hurry up whore before everyone walks out and sees what a mess you are.” that had azalea moaning louder that Draco had to take his hand and smash it over her mouth.

“say my name.” he grunted into her ear.

“draco.” She managed to whisper, earning a slap on her ass cheek.

“louder baby, you know how much noise you can make.” with that he also began to thrust into her harder that it took everything in her willpower to stop herself from sliding down the wall she was pressed against.

“shit draco! don’t stop. please don’t stop. keep going.” she suddenly screamed as she came while draco continued to chase his high.

☀︎︎end of flashback

Gosh she missed the sex. never a day was it bad nor boring. they always tried something exciting to do with him. something new.

suddenly there was a knock by her door and she ran up to open it.

“did you forget some—.” she asks before stopping midway when she sees who is standing there.“draco malfoy in the fucking flesh.” she mumbles and extended her hand as a sign for him to walk in.

“always nice to pop by ain’t it?” he said not bothering to greet her. that was their habit. they still met up occasionally even though their marriage has ended nine years ago. they usually went to each other when they needed comfort. no one would never be able to understand both their issues like they did.

“where’s marcelo?” draco asked taking a seat on her couch.

“left a few minutes ago. you missed her.” she replied leaning against the archway that led into the living room. she would never get tired of seeing him. his messy hair and his eyes. and his scent,gosh his scent. it had always done thing to her.

she walked towards him and sat herself right next to him and laid her head in his lap.

his hand slithered down towards her head and subconsciously began to play with the medium length of hair. they had done this before. during cuddling when they were married they would do this all the time. her hair would always end up a mess and all over the place by the time he would stop doing that.

☀︎︎flashback

Azalea dropped her bag by the stand near the door and in clipped her hair walking towards the living room. the first thing she saw was their six year old asleep on the couch. Draco was on the couch clearly not hearing her as she walked in.

“How was work.” he asked turning to look at her and push out his arms as a sway of calling her.

“good. same bullshit as always.” she muttered climbing onto the couch and setting her head in his lap. his hands wandered down to her bed of hair and began tangling it up.

“malfoy don’t do that okay. you know my hair when it’s in knots..” she argued but nevertheless let him do it.

“oh shut up. you know you love it.” he said stroking her hair more until she fell asleep .

“i miss us draco. so much.” she whispered against his shirt.

“same here zalea.”

[lea-panthera]

Here's the second part!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Chapter 4: Gone

Alya rushes to the Dupain-Cheng bakery excitedly. She’d deciphered a new part of the grimoire, one that had detailed the possible upgrades for the Fox Miraculous, and she couldn’t wait to tell Marinette.

She pulls the door open and stops at the counter where Mrs. Cheng is giving a customer some change.

“Hi, Mrs. Cheng! Is Marinette home?” Alya asks, bouncing in excitement.

“Hello, Alya, dear. She should be in her room,” replies Mrs. Cheng good-naturedly.

Alya thanks her and runs up the stairs. She opens the trapdoor and lets herself in.

“Hey, girl!” she sing-songs, closing the trapdoor. “You won’t believe-“

She realizes that Marinette’s not in her room and deflates slightly.

Maybe she’s patrolling today, Alya thinks. She’s going to sit on Marinette’s chair when she spies something on the desk. Her eyes widen in horror.

“No,” she says aloud, running over to take a closer look at the ladybug earrings on the desk. She takes them and watches with growing horror as the studs turn amber and Tikki flies out with a somber expression on her face.

“No! She wouldn’t!” Alya cries, backing away from Tikki. She falls to the ground.

“Alya…” starts Tikki.

“NO!” Alya yells. She looks at the kwami. “She’s coming back. She has to come back!”

Trixx flies out of Alya’s purse to see what all the commotion’s about. The kwami looks at the earrings, Tikki, and the kwamis who have exited the miracle box, before putting it all together and gasping. 

Wayzz puts a hand on Alya's shoulder. "Perhaps the note the guardian left you will explain things a bit better."

Alya looks back at the desk. Two small folded pieces of paper are on it, one labeled "Alya" and the other labeled "Cat Noir". She picks up the one labeled with her name, unfolds it, and begins to read.

To my dearest friend Alya:

I know this is sudden, but I needed to leave for reasons I can’t tell you(at least for now), and I don't have much time. I’m not sure when or if I’ll come back. I need you to do damage control in the meantime. Tell the reporters and media that Ladybug has left for an urgent secret mission. Take any Miraculous related stuff in my room and hide it in yours. Continue keeping my identity secret, but you can tell Cat Noir(he’ll probably figure it out anyway when both me and Ladybug disappear at the same time). Please give him the note on my desk with his name on it. I’ve also left Tikki and the ladybug miraculous behind, because the world will need Scarabella again.

                The situation is much bigger than you can imagine, Alya. Keep the miraculouses safe. I know it’s a lot to ask you, but I trust you. You’re my sister in all but name and blood, and I know you can do it. I have faith in you.

Love,

Marinette 

Alya presses a hand against her mouth to stifle a sob. “Sh-She says she doesn’t know if she’ll be back. Is she…is she leaving forever?”

Tikki looks away. “We don’t know. And we were forbidden from talking about where she went and why.”

“I don’t get it,” Alya sniffs, sadly clipping on the ladybug earrings. “She was fine today at schoo-“

She stops as she realizes something. 

“This isn’t about…Lila, is it?”

Tikki tries to say something, but all that comes out of her mouth is bubbles. The kwami hangs her head. “I can’t confirm or deny anything related to her disappearance, Alya. I’m sorry.”

Alya gets up, wiping her eyes. “It’s okay, Tikki. Besides, Marinette wouldn’t have left behind the ladybug miraculous and run away just because Lila won’t stop tormenting her. She’s stronger than that.”

Tikki smiles softly.

Alya turns to her. “Tikki, spots on!”

She transforms into Scarabella, tucks the miracle box under her arm, and opens the trapdoor leading to the balcony. She looks at Trixx. "Hide in my hair."

Trixx does so, and Scarabella jumps out the trapdoor and off the balcony. As she races home, she types out a message to Cat Noir, holding back fresh tears.

Chapter 5: The Message

"Plagg, you're on your sixth wheel of camembert already," Adrien says exasperatedly. 

"So?" asks the kwami, taking another bite.

Adrien shoots him a deadpan look. "Keep up the progress, and you'll go through your stash before I can refill it. That means possibly an entire day of cheddar for you."

"Hmph!" harrumphs Plagg, and he turns his back on Adrien, looking out the window. Then he frowns. "Hey, isn't that Scarabella?"

Adrien runs over to the window just in time to see the red-and-black-spotted hero run across a nearby rooftop and jump over to the next, carrying something under her arm. A very familiar something.

Adrien gasps. “Isn’t that the Miracle Box?”

Plagg swishes his tail. “Yep.” He gulps down the rest of his camembert.

Adrien narrows his eyes. “This cat smells a rat. Plagg, claws out!”

“Aw, come on!” Plagg moans as he’s sucked into Adrien’s ring. Adrien transforms into Cat Noir and is about to jump out his window when he hears a ding from his baton, indicating that he has a message. He opens up his screen to read it.

From: Scarabella (sent five minutes ago)

Meet me on the roof of Tour Montparnasse ASAP

Please.

It’s urgent.

Cat Noir’s frown deepens, and he heads toward the indicated spot. 

When Scarabella arrives, he’s pacing back and forth. He looks at her, his expression neutral. “I got your message. What’s going on? Where’s Ladybug?”

Scarabella bites her lip and swallows hard. Pull yourself together, Scarabella.

Cat Noir’s expression changes to one of concern. “Scarabella? What’s wrong?”

That does it for her. She bursts into tears and hugs him tight around the waist. “She’s gone!” she sobs. “She’s gone and I don’t know where!”

“W-w-what?” Cat Noir gasps, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her back to look him in the eyes. “What did you say?”

“Ladybug’s gone,” she weeps, covering her face with her hands. 

“No,” Cat Noir murmurs, letting go of Scarabella and taking steps backward. His eyes are wide with horror, disbelief, and shock, and his claws run through his hair, making it seem wilder than it was before. “No! She can’t be gone!”

He races off the roof and jumps over to the next rooftop. “My Lady!” He bounds over to the next roof, and then the next, and so on, crying out for his partner.

“Cat!” Scarabella yells after him, her voice hoarse from her own sobbing. “Cat Noir!” She takes out her yoyo and swings after him, landing right in front of the frantic hero. “Cat, she’s not here.”

“She’s here! She has to be! I just need to find-“

“CAT NOIR, YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME RIGHT NOW!” she screams. Cat Noir stares at her, shocked. 

“Do you think I didn’t look for her already? She’s my sister in all but name, Cat Noir,” Scarabella cries. “I looked for her for two hours. I’ve scoured the entire city to find her. All your usual places, all her secret getaway spots, every single nook and cranny in Paris. All of them, and she wasn’t there.”

Hearing this, Cat Noir sinks to the ground, weeping. “Why? Why? Why did she leave? Why did she leave me?”

Scarabella’s heart breaks for him. She sits down next to him, rubbing his back as they both cry. By the time their sobs reduce to sniffles, it’s sunset. 

She opens up her yoyo, pulls out Marinette’s letter to Cat Noir, and gives it to him. “Here. Read this.”

He takes it from her, wiping his eyes.

To my wonderful, brave, selfless, dorky partner:

Let’s make one thing clear: I’m NOT abandoning you, Cat Noir. I’m just temporarily(as far as I can tell) leaving because of…outside circumstances. Don’t worry about me. I can’t say any specifics for now, but based on what little information I’ve been given so far, you’re likely to be pulled into this mess at some point anyway, so you’ll find out soon enough. There’s so many things I want to say to you, kitty, but so little time. 

       But first: I need you and Scarabella to tell the media and reporters that Ladybug is currently on a secret mission. I’ve given Scarabella permission to tell you my identity, and I’m giving you both permission to exchange secret identities as well. Be there for Scarabella, like you’re always there for me.

        I feel like I never gave you enough appreciation, kitty. Nor did anyone else, really. But here it is:

Cat Noir, you’re the greatest partner I could’ve ever asked for. When I nearly quit being Ladybug after my initial failure with Stoneheart, it was you who encouraged me to continue wearing the mantle. Despite our fights and my rejections, you have stayed by my side ever since the beginning. I used to think you were just an outrageous flirt, but, over time, I’ve learned to see past your playful exterior and I’ve found one of the kindest, sweetest boys I’ve ever met. And I believe that if I hadn’t already fallen for someone before I discovered that side of you, I’d be head over heels in love with you, too.

Love,

Your Lady

Cat Noir has to bite his lip to prevent himself from sobbing again. He looks up from the letter to Scarabella, his breathing ragged in his effort to hold back more tears. “Who is she?”

“Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

-End part 2-

[britishassistant]

Consider for the Supervillain AU: Yuu is currently playing Hostage for one of the Dorms when they hear a crashing sound from another room. Thinking it’s one of the RSA boys, they decide not to engage Prefect Time.

Turns out, it’s one of the other NRC villain teams pulling a raid on their current captors. When said raiders spot Yuu as a hostage, they take them along and end up protecting them.

After getting out the Villains base, the Raiding Team and Yuu take a quick breath at a designated rendezvous point.

Playing the role of Innocent Hostage, Yuu thanks the Raiding Villain team for Saving them.

“‘Save you’?” They say. “More like...’under new management’”

Yuu can’t even finish a word before they felt themselves getting regagged again (maybe in a different style to reflect the dorm that just ‘saved’ them). Yuu knows that they’re going to get a major headache from all this nonsense

Bonus points for the villains being petty and sending a picture to the Villain Dorm that just got raided of not only the stuff they stole but one adorable Hostage as well they found along the way

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Something’s... off today.

Yuu’s sitting in their cell in the lair, shuffling and reshuffling a deck of playing cards to try and pass the time.

They were trying to subtly gather information about Royal Flush’s latest heist from Ace and Deuce while playing Go Fish, but then both minions’ phones went off. The pair of them grabbed their weapons and left, promising that whatever was going on would take no more than five minutes.

That was ten minutes ago.

Maybe it’s that “Champion” hero again, trying to reclaim that topaz Royal Flush stole two nights ago. He causes enough collateral damage that his presence would certainly warrant a call for all hands on deck, especially if Niko Niko Neko has decided to lend him some help. Poor Ace of Diamonds still has a fractured collarbone from the heroes’ last “collaboration”, though at least Seven of Spades finally has the cast off her foot.

The cell block is soundproofed, so even if the reporter strains their ears, they can hear nothing of what could be going on in the rest of the base. The sound of cards flipping between their fingers is doing little to settle their nerves.

Yuu’s arm brushes against the brim of their fedora.

No. No need to be hasty. It’ll look too suspicious if The Prefect appears from the cells and it turns out to just be the RSA heroes saving the day after all. Plus the haphazard stitches from where Ace’s throwing cards cut into their ribs still haven’t healed enough that they won’t get pulled if Yuu starts running around willy-nilly, and then how will they explain the blood? There’s no need to jump to conclusions. There probably isn’t anything seriously wr—

A loud crash echoes from the entrance to the cell block.

Yuu stands, shoving the deck of cards into a pocket of their blazer. They rush to the bars of their cell, trying to peer through and see what the source of the noise is.

Thick plaster is rolling in from the entrance, obscuring their vision. They think they can glimpse the sight of the door, a twisted mess of wood and metal lodged in the opposing wall.

What in the name of the Great Seven could’ve—?!

The reporter’s blood runs cold at the sound of a low, rumbling growl.

It almost sounds like a dog warning an unwelcome intruder, if that dog were much, much bigger than even a Great Dane had any business being.

Not a dog then. Yuu exhales, and calls out in their most level voice. “Hello? Is someone there?”

If it’s a monster, it can probably already smell them if it’s growling like that, and the bars should provide some measure of defense if it attacks so Yuu can figure out how to subdue it enough to run. If it’s not a monster...

The growl grows louder, but also...less, somehow? As if it had changed outputs or something, like going from listening in stereo to through headphones.

A figure becomes visible through the dust and gloom. One that’s as tall and built as Yuuken is. Oh dear.

An angry looking man with white hair in a rough-and-tumble outfit looms in front of the cell, arms crossed and one pointed ear on the top of his head flickering. A beastman, probably some kind of canine if the growl was any indication.

The reporter fights the urge to swallow nervously. “Excuse me, but you aren’t one of Royal Flush’s minions, are you? Who are you? Are-were you being held captive too?”

The beastman doesn’t answer their questions. Instead, he barks, “You’re that reporter, right? The one who gets captured a lot.”

Yuu’s mouth flattens into a line, but they nod. Oh Seven, they hope that’s not what they’re becoming famous for. “Well, I am a hostage here, and I am a reporter for TWST local news. Yuu Radcliffe, and you are?”

The beastman grimaces, looking even angrier at the admission. “Get back.”

They obligingly let go of the bars and back up a few steps, shuffling away a few more when another growl ripples out the man’s chest. They tilt their head as he seizes the bars they were just holding. Wait, what does he think he’s—

There’s a hideous shriek of metal as the beastman’s muscles ripple and the bars bend apart like they’re no more than wet clay. The reporter can see indents of his grip left from where he pushed at the steel.

Yuu feels a little lightheaded, staring blankly as the beastman steps into the cell. They do startle when he pulls what looks like a small black sack out of his pocket, holding it out to their head. “Hey, what-?!”

“You wanna get out of here?” The beastman says brusquely. “You wear this.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Yuu’s gut, but the way he’s brandishing the sack makes them think he’s not about to take “no” for an answer. They doubt they could outrun him at this range, given that he’s blocking the new exit out of the cell. The reporter reluctantly takes the bag and pulls it on over their head, wincing as their field of vision goes dark.

They can’t help the yelp they make as they’re suddenly scooped up by a pair of unseen arms and held a little too tightly for comfort. Yuu contemplates trying to squirm out of his grip, and then remembers what his hands did to the steel bars. Instead they just try to make themselves as small as possible as the beastman starts to run.

It’s disconcerting, hearing so much noise after being stuck in the soundproofed cellblock for so long. Screams, yells, cries, and howls, the sounds of a battle they can’t see raging around them. Yuu thinks they hear their name being called out once, but it’s drowned out as the beastman picks up speed and the scent of roses and strawberries is replaced by the fresher, more noxious air of the city outside.

Their ride takes so many twists and turns that Yuu can barely keep track of where they are relative to Royal Flush’s lair, let alone where they’re headed. They honestly feel a little motion sick by the time the beastman slows down, and releases one arm to push open what sounds like a creaky metal door.

It feels like a wall of heat and noise hits the reporter in the face. There’s lots of loud complaining and ribbing from what sounds like a large and rowdy group of people, and the grip of the man carrying them gets tighter, tucking them closer to his chest.

One voice rises above the rest. “Oi, Jack-kun, what took you so long? We were beginning to think you’d run off with our little guest there.”

“Jack-kun’s” hold tightens again at the sound of that voice, to the point where Yuu is beginning to get worried that they’re going to end up like the bars on their cell back in the lair. His voice is clipped as he bites out, “Had to lose a tail, senpai. Got sidetracked.”

The world tilts oddly and it takes the reporter a moment to get their feet under them and not stumble as they are finally, finally set down. One of “Jack’s” arms remains clamped on their shoulder, steadying them and preventing them from moving too far away from him.

“Well, you’re both in one piece!” The new voice comes closer. “Now let’s see the reporter who went and got Royal all bent out of shape, huh?”

They wince when the bag is pulled off their head suddenly, blinking in the sudden light. The face of another beastman swims in front of their eyes before their gaze finally focuses, greyish eyes and dyed blond hair with much more rounded ears perched atop it. The glimmering orange jewel the size of a canatloupe he’s clutching in one hand isn’t exactly helping any with how it keeps refracting light into the reporter’s eyes.

The same orange jewel that Royal Flush stole from the pier two nights ago.

The sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach only grows.

“Well, I don’t see the appeal.” The beastman declares. “Maybe that midget just has weird taste.”

“Ouch.” Yuu forces a thin smile onto their face. Play along, keep calm, keep the levity up. “You’ll hurt my feelings at this rate.”

“Hey, truth hurts.” The beastman shrugs, spreading his hands wide. “Woulda thought a nosy journo like you would know that by heart, with all the dirt you dig up.”

“You would think so.” Yuu chuckles weakly. “Well, thank you all so much for rescuing me from Royal Flush’s lair, in any case.”

The ears on Jack’s head flatten slightly, and he glares at a spot on the floor by Yuu’s feet.

Well. That’s disappointing. Unsurprising, given that everyone here is also in an outlandish form of uniform without being clowns, but disappointing all the same.

“Shi hi hi hi hi. Oh, I wouldn’t call it ‘rescued’.” The beastman chuckles, grinning unsettlingly wide. “More like...under new management.”

Yuu stares at the minion.

“Wow. Wow.” The reporter tells him flatly. “I hope your boss pays you well to say stuff like that.”

The beastman shrugs again, grin not diminishing in the slightest. “Four figures, with holiday bonuses and healthcare. It’s a pretty good gig.”

Yuu tilts their head in acknowledgement. It’s better than their current working conditions, they’ll give him that.

“Ah, before I forget. No point in a good raid without a celebration photo, right?” The blond man pulls out a smart phone and waggles it in one hand. “That’s what that selfie junkie of Royal Flush’s likes to do, right? Jack-kun, you get in too.”

It’s sad that this barely makes it into the top five most surreal selfies that Yuu has ever taken. Even when the senior minion orders Jack-kun to curl a hand around their throat, gripping tight enough to make their breath go short, while the blond man holds the jewel up by their face in a place of prominence. “Make sure to look nice and menaced now, kay~? Shi hi hi hi hi.”

The camera flash goes off, once, twice. Then the phone comes down, and the hand comes off the reporter’s throat. They try to suck in a series of deep breaths as discreetly as they can.

“Great expression there, really selling the unwilling captive shtick.” The beastman pats their cheek condescendingly, thumb moving over the screen of the phone until there’s the ping of a Magicam upload. “Ok, let’s get your hands and legs tied and hood back on. Oh, and I’d watch your mouth when I meet the boss man, if I were you. You’ve got an audience with the King, after all.”

“Do you get a raise every time you spout off a line like that?” Yuu grumbles as the deeply frowning Jack is handed a length of rope and begins looping it around their wrists.

“Not yet!” The beastman calls back jovially as he strides away, admiring the topaz in his hand and barking orders to all the other henchpeople milling around.

“...Sorry.” Jack mutters by their feet as he finishes the tight knot binding their ankles together.

“It’s okay.” Yuu murmurs back, as he picks up the bag to place it back on their head. “You're just doing your job, right?”

And they’ll just be doing theirs, the reporter thinks to themselves as the darkness descends again and they’re hoisted up over the minion’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

Maybe they’ll finally get to learn why the topaz is so important to both Royal Flush and their current captor that it was worth staging a raid on another supervillain’s lair to get it. At the very least they’ll have the opportunity to interview this “King” to uncover his side of the story...

That is, if he doesn’t somehow work out whose biological child they are first.

[mightymorphingayagenda]

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

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

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

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

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

Humourless. 

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

“This is the part where you-“ 

“Shhh.” 

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

She’d made Eris wait almost a day.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cue phase two of the plan.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a threat?” 

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

Eris said nothing.  

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

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

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

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

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

She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.  

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

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

Who’s your daddy, now?  

- 

She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.  

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

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

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

Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway… 

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

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

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

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

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

He meowed again.  

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

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

Cassian’s jacket.  

Uhg.  

Now she was thinking about him again.  

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

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

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

He purred.  

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

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

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

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

Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.  

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

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

Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.  

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

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

Not a man. A boy.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her screaming.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Her mother’s last words.  

 Ten numbers.  

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

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

 Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.  

 Like a phone number.  

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

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

 “Здравствуйте.” 

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

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

“Who is this?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go down for murder.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Woof,” Nesta had said dryly. 

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

 “You offering to adopt me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until Feyre had moved to the city.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That and the fact they were really very good.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You told me to give him a chance.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ever heard of the third date rule?” 

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

Feyre sighed.  

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

“So why did you send him my way?” 

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

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

Nesta rolled her eyes.  

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” Nesta said.  

“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.  

“Well I’ve been smoking.” 

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

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

“He only smokes them on special occasions.” 

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

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

“Oh so you did hear me?” 

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

She hung up.  

“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.  

Fuck.  

Her being mad at him had been a cop out.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

 — 

 Cassian had ignored her calls.  

All three.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All work and no play?”  

Cassian looked up from his desk.  

“I can fix that,” she said.  

He’d never looked more handsome.  

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”  

Rude.  

Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.  

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

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

She turned to find him watching her.  

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

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

“You’re still upset about that?”  

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

“Oh really?” 

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

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.   

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

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

“You don’t have a clue what I want.” 

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

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

It was all very conflicting.  

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

Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.   

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

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

“You’re right,” she said.  

Cassian blinked.  

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

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

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

“Nothing to do with you.”  

He shook his head, laughing bitterly.   

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

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

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

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

A weighted silence settled like snow between them.   

Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.  

“Shit.” 

His head fell into those large hands.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta slid of the desk.  

“Go on,” she instructed.  

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

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

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

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

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

“I can tell.” 

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

“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”  

Cassian swallowed.  

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

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

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

“If you say please.” 

“Please don’t screw around with me.” 

Nesta faltered.  

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

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

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

Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nesta-“ 

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

“Someone could come back-“ 

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

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

“Nesta-” 

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

“I want you,” she purred again.  

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

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

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

“You want me,” he breathed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I’m saying you could be in me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, yes, please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More,” she demanded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words sent her over the edge.  

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

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

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

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

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

“Then get on your knees.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Down boy,” she purred.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.  

“Cassian,” she keened.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gasped softly, grinding deeper.  

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

“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.  

“Let me take care of you.” 

“Cassian.” 

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

Nesta smiled.  

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

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

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

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

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

“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.  

It was so good.  

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta whined softly.  

“Cassian…more…” 

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

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

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

“Oh!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She turned her gaze to him.  

“Shame.” 

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

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

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

Cassian grinned.  

“You like Italian?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lethal,” he whispered.  

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

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

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

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

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

Their second date had been incredible.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Make you blush like a-” 

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

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

“Says the military man.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was so a line!”  

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

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

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

Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What would you rather we talk about?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta sighed sweetly into him-  

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

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

He fished out his phone, and declined the call.  

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

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

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

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

Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.  

“Yes please.” 

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”  

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

“Congratulations.” 

Cassian grinned.  

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

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

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

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

“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.  

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

“Please do.” 

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

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

He pulled back abruptly.  

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

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

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

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

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

“But I-” 

A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.  

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

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

“More romantic than that sentence?”  

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

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

“How have you already failed?” 

“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.  

“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.” 

“So you’ve said,” she blushed.  

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

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

“You’re so mean,” he grinned.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you decline my call?” 

“Yup.” 

“Bastard.” 

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

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

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

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

He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.  

“That why you’re calling?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.  

“Fine, your stropping-” 

“Fuck off.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hang on a minute-” 

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

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

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

“Alright, alright Don.” 

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

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

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

Cassian sighed heavily.  

“This a secure line?” 

“Always”. 

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

“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.  

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

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

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

“Lucien?” 

“Turns out the kid’s his.” 

“Fucking hell.” 

“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.  

Rhys went silent again.  

“We could always just kill Eris.” 

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

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

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

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

“Dick.” 

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

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

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

“I’m fucking Persian!” 

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

“A fanabla!”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.” 

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

“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.” 

“Nesta’s no Feyre.” 

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

“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.” 

“See you then.” 

 TAG LIST

@featherymalignancy

@sleeping-and-books

@my-fan-side

@hearts-of-persephone 

@witchling13

@theoverlyenthusiasticwriter

@typicalmidnightsoul

@sezkins79

@thebitchupstairs

@fourshizzle149

@monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies

@yikesitsmaddie

@jjellybean

@thronesandstars

@mis-lil-red 

@rhysandsdarlingfeyre

@cf-mist-and-fury

@breezy-freezy 

@dayanna-hatter 

@anishake

@candid-confetti 

@goldbooksblack

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper

@justgiu12

@twansy17

@caotica-e-quieta

@singinginthedarktimes

@carebear1339

@keshavomit

@januarystears

@bookstantrash 

@illyrianshadowhunter

[yn-x-animeboy]

Jungkook x y/n (as a famous artist) Pt.2

pArt 1: here 

pairing: reader x Jungkook

genre: fluff, romance, for entertainment purposes

BTS x Fem Reader

sinopsis: You are a popular artist in America, pretty famous, loved and well-known by the general public (actually you were one of the top 10 artists in the world but you are pretty humble and naïve to realize your popularity), one day during one of your fan meets you talk about how much you love BTS, and not only how you wish to meet them and work with them but how Jungkook is one of your celebrity crushes. During the meet you fangirled with other ARMYs in the crowd; video clips of you fangirling and talking about BTS at your meet where posted and reposted all over social media. This obviously broke the internet because you were not only a famous singer but you also were always accepted and loved by ARMY and this made a lot of people happy. Suddenly it felt like everyone wanted you to meet the seven handsome and talented idols and collaborate, but you could only wish, you believed they didn't even know who you were...or so you thought

Part 2- BTS x Y/N You went to bed, turned your phone on silent mode and looked at your ceiling,  replaying that fake scenario you talked about a few hours ago, oh how you wished it could become real. Finally dozing off and resting for the work-packed day you had tomorrow; unaware that your social media was currently going crazy and how they yearned for your new weekly EPISODE to come out.

While you were peacefully sleeping social media platforms like twitter and instagram where going crazy all over the world, headlines with titles like: “Y/N FINALLY CONFESSES”, “Y/N AND JUNGKOOK RELATIONSHIP WILL SAVE 2021”, “ARMYs BIGGEST FEAR… Y/N+J&K''. People demanded the episode of the leaked videos to be uploaded as soon as possible, even though it was the middle of the night were you where; your international fans where active and ready for some content after watching the “leaked” videos; they exploded your teams’ contacts; your team left with no other choice but to actually speed up the process and upload said EPISODE; your manager contacted the main editor and offered him two days off if he could finish the video that same night. 

The episode was uploaded at around 2 am; meaning in Korea, the video went up at around 4pm.

4:00 o’clock in the afternoon, a beautiful day outside Seoul. The guys were currently about to shoot a new episode of RUN BTS; on set,  the guys were standing in the middle of a room as some hair and makeup staff fixed their appearance. Cameras were being set up around them by the camera crew. Staff spread around the room doing their respective tasks. The guys did have their cell phones with them but they were all turned to airplane mode so they wouldn't disturb the shoot. Just like you, they were unaware of what was happening on their social media platforms.

“ACTION!” the director started. RM lead the opening line “1,2,3…”, “Dallyeora Bangtan!” (RUN BTS!) they all said in unison, and the episode began. behind the cameras, staff were learning about the ``BTS x Y/N'' ordeal as the seven boys were filming. The “Hybe Corporation '' (RIP big hit) would normally would see this type of situation as a negative thing for their Idol Star Group’s image, immediately clearing  up any misunderstanding and false info that was being spread online; but the head of the company, Bang Si-hyuk, decided to first watch the video himself and look into it this time. 

Again, the head team would’ve even ignored this situation, but this time it was different. Bang Si-hyuk actually knew who you were, and was surprised when he saw your name pop up. After a quick meeting the next step was decided for BTS in regards to this situation. “Just to make sure, the boys are still shooting right? Bang Si-hyuk asked his assistant, “Y-yes sir, they are in the middle of a game, no news have been broke to them”; Bang Si-hyuk nodded and looked around the room of people that attended the emergency meeting, “Okay so, like we agreed, we will surprise they boys with this, they are big fans of y/n, and I really do like her too, she is a good girl who goes well with BTS. SO... after their scheduled shoot, send them to the other room and let them react to y/n’s episode highlights, and tell them what is happening, I think this could be the beginning of something good” Bang Si-hyuk concluded the meeting at that. Staff quickly went and prepared everything.

After shoot the guys were expecting to get into their assigned cars and go home like they normally do when they are done on set, but they were stopped by staff; “Guys okay so you are done with this episode, please now direct yourselfs towards the meeting room, the company has treated you to some refreshers, snacks and drinks; you will be told what to do'' The small woman stepped aside to let the boys go to where they were asked to go. The guys didn't think too much of this, brushing it off as a probable “catch-up” meeting.

Once they got to the meeting room they sat on one side of  a wooden table, a laptop sitting in the middle, and a single camera behind the table. Jungkook took a seat in front of the laptop, Jimin to his right and Suga to his left; J-Hope, V, Jin and RM sitting in higher chairs behind them in that order, with a clear view on the computer.  They all looked at the staff for answers, this was not one of their weekly meetings… The staff allowed them to have the promised snacks, instant noodles and beverages for this. One staff member told them what they were going to do “Okay so before you all go home we need you to react to this video, it is only a couple of minutes long, we have edited it and cut some parts out; you are allowed to eat and loosen up; you can react as you wish and add any comment as well, any questions?” They shook their head as they had done this before so many times. 

The video started and a preview came on screen, it was your intro music, on screen a quick preview of your complete episode was shown. The boys immediately recognized the images, they had seen your show many times before. “Oi, it’s y/n'' Jin immediately said as soon as your face appeared on screen, “Is this a new episode?” JImin asked out loud, “Wait what day is it? they normally go up on Friday, did we miss it?” Taehyung spoke, mouth full of spicy noodles, J-Hope and RM reached out and cleaned Taehyung’s face with napkins  as if he was a child, before he made a bigger mess. 

“Hello everyone welcome to another episode of…. f** I don't even know what we call these videos, jajajaja” “Wait what?... jajajajaja omg guys thank you, I'm so sorry, yeah you heard them, welcome back to y/n’s camera roll, I can’t believe I forgot that, anyway today’s episode is a little different……” Your introduction from the episode played on screen, making the boys chuckle at your genuine personality “hahaha gwiyeoun” (haha cute) Suga added, J-Hope agreeing with him as he gave Suga a piece of the food he was having. Kookie was currently watching the screen not even blinking, he hadn’t taken a bite out of his noodles or a sip out of his banana milk, Jimin noticed and pointed at him looking back at the guys with a silent laugh, they all knew Jungkook was your biggest simp.

The video continued, they kept adding comments and watching with interest. The staff had actually reedited your original video to make it shorter and show the parts where you mention BTS.

“Hi, y/n, can I ask you another question?” you nodded and signaled him to proceed; 

“I saw that you liked an instagram post about BTS a while back uploaded by a fan account and I also saw that you actually follow their personal twitter account. ALSO in your behind the scenes video for your music video shoot you can be seen in the background dancing the Boy with luv choreo. So I wanted to ask if you were an ARMY and if you know them personally? and like should we be expecting a collaboration soon?”

You chucked at his talking speed, curious questions and great detective skills.

Jimin reached over and paused the video before they could hear what you answered next. “No way….Omg what she says she hates us” Jimin said. “Imagine if she said she hates us, is this why you guys are making us watch this?” Suga looked  at the staff. “Can we keep watching hyungs…” Jungkook said looking around at the others, a bit desperate to find out what you said next. “Oi, wouldn't you want to know guki…” Jin teased him, wiggling his eyebrows and slapping the back of his head playfully. Before Jungkook could fight back RM reached over them and pressed play, preventing a ‘playful’ fight among the youngest and oldest member to take place.

“OMG hahaha I love you so much, what an amazing question, Okay so first off no I don’t know them personally and sadly no plans of collaboration are on sight. Oh wow I have never been asked if I liked BTS before, I’m excited hahaha. Yeah I am an ARMY, I love them so much I am one of their biggest fans, and they are also one of my biggest inspirations when it comes to work ethic and professionalism, listening to them or watching them gives me motivation to keep doing what I love, which is this. 

anyway I am rambling I should stop; you guys can say y/n stop whenever I start rambling okay? hahaha''

As this part of the video played, the guys seemed to lean closer to the screen as you spoke. Once you finished your answer they paused the video again. RM stood up with hands on his head; Jin and J-Hope held on to each other with their mouths wide open looking at the screen; V was still sitting in the same spot, frozen, as if he was paused in time along with the now paused screen; Suga stood up with his hands on his mouth bouncing his knees lightly; Jimin reached to RM behind him and stretched his arms out with a ‘Did you hear that?’ expression; Jungkook leaned over the table and pulled the screen closer, he was smiling from ear to ear letting out a small “wow” under his breath, then he replayed your answer to listen to it one more time, rereading the subtitles under the video making sure he did not miss any words.

 “OMG NO WAY, NO WAY DUDE” Tae came out of his frozen state and held on to Jungkook's shoulders shaking slightly; They all looked at eachother surprised, they couldn't believe that ‘the one and only Y/N’ was an ARMY. They composed themselves and played the video to proceed once the staff told them there was more. 

The video resumed: 

“Guys should we actually talk about BTS for a bit? hahaha” you asked your fans

A girl spoke after: “Can I ask you a BTS question then? Okay so, who is your favorite member?

“Well first off, I don't have a favorite member. I really mean it when I say this. I love them all equally and I love them all as a group. I don’t prefer one over the other or like one better.  I really do support them equally. I mean there is nothing wrong with having a bias, as long as you also respect the other members, hope that all made sense lol” Everyone seemed moved by your support towards them and nodded.

Again the boys reacted, they were so surprised they paused again and walked back and forth making sounds of excitement; They loved the way you answered the question and were so moved by your love and appreciation towards them and the way you saw them as a group. They felt like jumping and celebrating. They sat back down again to keep watching their favorite american artist talk about them some more.

Your episode was again cut and it skipped to another question: 

“Y/n so you don’t have a favorite, but do you have a crush on any of them?, like if you could date one of them right now, which one do you pick?” A fan asked.

The guys chuckled at the question, they thought there was no way you would answer such a question.

“okay...well...Like I said just to be clear I don't have favorites amongst the group members, but I do have a type…. I consider one of them to be my celebrity crush”......

“So in that case, if I had to pick someone that I would date in real life...i would say…. Jungkook” 

The. Guys. Went. Nuts. Jungkook immediately stood up and lifted his hands up in the air as if he had won an award, he paused the video and started smiling like crazy; his cheeks tinted in a redish pinkish tone, he covered his face as he was at a loss for words, he knew he was seen as attractive by female and male artists, he even knew of a couple of well known idols who had admitted to having a crush on him; but this was different, he had considered you to be his celebrity crush for years now, ever since your debut in america when you were just 15 and he was 16; he was a big fan of yours; he knew everything about you, he loved your music, he thought you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, he even had a picture of you performing as his wallpaper currently; he constantly watched your videos and wished he could someday date a girl like you. 

A staff member spoke, taking Jungkook out of his trance state: “How do you feel Jungkook?” He lifted his face from his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes were glossy and his smile wide. “I-I don't know what to say, I can’t believe it,” he said as he sat down looking  at the pause screen, looking at your still image. His hyungs patted him on the back; Jimin turned his head to the staff as he was rubbing JK’s back with one hand, “You know Jungook has had the biggest crush on y/n for so long now” Jimin told the staff. The other members agreed and nodded. Jungkook looked up and spoke to the staff: “Yeah I remember listening to her debut song for the longest time without really thinking about who the artist was. When her first studio album broke records I decided to look her up, I watched a video of her talking about the album and her experience as a new artist and I think ever since then I have had a crush on her; she is my ideal type”

“Why is she your ideal type?” a staff member in the back asked JK. “Ha. um. well  I think my ideal type of girl is someone who is funny and has a bright and cool personality; someone who as soon as they step into a room they immediately light it up; someone who is goofy and isn't afraid to become a joke or mess up; A confident person; someone who isn't too girly or too boyish; someone who likes to learn new  things and from who I can learn new things too; someone who is younger than me; Someone who loves dancing and singing a lot, etc. And y/n is kinda all that and more tbh; He rambled, the guys were all used to his ‘secret fangirling over y/n’ habit, but the staff was taken aback; they only thought the guys thought highly of you as an artist, but this… they felt moved. “Ay ay, stop drooling, lets keep watching hahaha” Suga poked at JK’s side and pressed play.

The video time skipped again: “...I love that question, and your scenario is so cute, you should write a tumblr post about it, well yeah I obviously have created fake scenarios in my head about BTS, past crushes, fake arguments even hahaha, there are so many BTS fake scenarios in my head…. hmm oh I know which one, okay so this fantasy of mine is about how I would meet them irl and work with them, I will make it quick”

“Okay so, my literal fantasy is to one day meet them at a talk show, you know how hosts like to surprise their guests with something/someone they like?, I believe Ellen has done it multiple times where she surprised a guest with their idol or celebrity crush, you know?” The group nodded, invested in your fake scenario “Well i would be invited to like the Jimmy Fallon Show, where he would just randomly surprise me with BTS. Then I would be given the opportunity to introduce myself and tell them how much I love and support them. I would also be able to show them my korean speaking skills, I learned Korean and Spanish back in school and I have never been able to actually use either them, lol, anyway...well after that we would all become really good friends, and we would collaborate and put out one or multiple songs for you guys. I mean that's basically it, I wish I could meet them, and become their friend and write songs with them, even produce songs with Suga or RM if I could'' 

“What???? does she speak korean?” 

“OMG Jungkook is she speaks korean marry her” 

“OMG I wanna meet her now”  

“That's so cute” 

“She is so cool” 

The guys added and all looked adoringly at the screen; RM and Suga also commented about how they would love to work with someone like you and produce a ton of music together and that they wish you all could collaborate in the future too.

_____

And That is how the boys learned about the video and your view on them….not only that they also  learned about your embarrassing fantasy and celebrity crush…. After finishing their day at work, they went home and watched your episode complete this time. They felt like they accomplished something so important by just leaning your perception on them. Jungkook also felt that but he was even more excited than the rest, his celebrity crush had admitted to crushing on him back, he knows that the chances of meeting you or even having a friendship with you were probably non existent. And even if they did meet you, the idea of dating you in real life seemed impossible to him due to you both being artists, under strict and powerful companies, living opposite sides of the world, in different time zones even; but he was still happy, and the guys too; they all went to bed wishing they could someday meet you.

----

Part 3- Jimmy Fallon Show ------> here

ily:) Xx, plis give me a lil’ <3

[queenofspades20]

Dog walk

Synopsis: Just a little something inspired by my dog's antics today. Didn't meet anyone out of it (sadly), but was pretty funny. I'm sure I looked ridiculous. Could be seen as an AU or not (no mention of missions or anything).

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: some curse words, mostly just fluff.

Y/n ran into the door after getting home from work. She saw her sweet dog on the couch.

“Hi, Baby! I missed you so much today,” she said, as she walked over to pet him. Loki twitched his tail and adjusted his body, letting her know that he was excited she was home, but, as per usual, refused to get up.

Y/n sat next to him, petting his ears. She leaned down and kissed the top of his fluffy head. After a couple minutes of giving Loki some attention, Y/n got up.

“Okay, Bubba. I’m gonna change real quick and then we’ll go for a walk.”

Loki looked at her with interest at the “w” word, but didn’t move. Y/n went into her bedroom and changed into some workout capris and a tank top. She made her way back to the front door, where Loki’s harness and leash were hanging.

“Come on, Bear. Let’s go for a walk.”

Loki huffed and moved so his front paws were on the floor, while his hind legs were still on the couch and he stretched.

“Oh, good stretch. Come on, now. Let’s go.”

Loki’s back legs hopped off the couch and he sauntered over to where Y/n was standing. He allowed her to put on his harness, staying still. Once it was clipped into place, Y/n grabbed the dog bag dispenser and keys from their hook and led Loki out the door.

The walk went as it went every day. Loki sniffed and did his business, taking his time. They made their way around their neighborhood, Loki stopping frequently to smell each blade of grass. When they got halfway around the neighborhood, Loki decided he no longer wanted to walk and sat down.

“Okay then,” Y/n said, looking at her dog. This was a regular occurrence during their walks. Luckily, she wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere, so she decided to sit down next to him.

Loki immediately got excited and started sniffing her hair, trying to take a bite.

Y/n couldn’t contain her laughter as Loki then started to rub his body on her back, like a cat would. Luckily, this was not the first time Loki decided to show affection, so she was able to brace her body as he threw his against her body.

“Silly boy. What are you doing? Are you looking for butt scritches?” As she said this, Loki moved his butt towards her face, demanding pets. His tail hit her in the face. She moved her head, laughing. Y/n reached over and started rubbing his back. Loki started dancing from side to side, just lifting his back legs, enjoying the attention.

Bucky and Sam were walking around a neighborhood, where Bucky was thinking about buying. He wanted a change from the dark apartment he had been living in.

“What do you think, Buck?” Sam asked, looking around.

“It’s quiet around here, but not bad. I like it.”

They had just looked at one of the places for sale. It was just perfect for a single person. The price was pretty reasonable and it was in an area where there were plenty of restaurants and things to do nearby.

“I think you should get it if you like it. The realtor said they’re pet friendly, too, so you can think about getting something.”

“What would I get?”

Sam looked over and saw a woman with her dog. They were practically wrestling, though the dog was clearly in the lead. “A dog would be good.”

“Dogs are scared of me.” Bucky hadn’t noticed the woman yet, engrossed in looking at the details the realtor had provided.

“I doubt that.”

“A dog would never want to get near me.”

Sam tapped Bucky on the shoulder and pointed to the woman and the dog. “I bet that dog would.”

Bucky saw the pair playing. He smiled at the sight before him. “Yeah right. I’m sure that dog would attack me before I got too close to its owner.”

“Dinner says the dog wouldn’t attack.”

“Fine. I’ll go.” Bucky grumbled. He was sure the dog wouldn’t let him near the dog or its owner.

As he made his way over, he was struck by how pretty the owner was. Probably married, he thought to himself. When he was about 20 feet away, he made himself known.

While he expected the dog to jump in front of its owner, not what actually happened. The dog jumped and tried to run away, pulling the woman back, almost causing her to fall flat.

“Loki! You scaredy cat!” Y/n yelled, laughing. She pulled him closer and rubbed the top of his head. “You’re fine, Bubba. He’s not even that close to us.”

Bucky felt horrible. “Are you okay?”

Y/n smiled at him. “Yeah. Not the first time he’s done that. He’s easily startled. Definitely not guard dog material. Is there something I can help you with? I’m assuming you wanted to speak with me.”

Bucky thought she had the kindest eyes he had ever seen. He felt himself flushing. “I was wondering if I could pet your dog.”

“Sure! Just walk a little slowly and it helps if you crouch down when you get closer. He’s not a fan of people bigger than him,” Y/n said with a laugh.

Bucky moved forward and did as she suggested. He crouched down. Once he did, the dog inched his way towards Bucky. Bucky held out his hand. “It’s okay, Buddy. I won’t hurt you.”

“Go ahead, Loki. Make a new friend. He just wants to pet you.”

Bucky kept his eyes on the dog. “Loki?”

The woman smiled at him. “He’s a bit chaotic and every once in a while, I’m convinced he’s dead set on world domination. Just gets that look in his eyes. Seemed to fit. That, and he actually answered to it. He wouldn’t answer to the name he came with.”

Bucky looked at the woman with a bit of confusion on his face.

“Shelter dog,” she clarified. “The shelter asked me if I was going to change his name. I told them I was thinking about it. And the woman doing the paperwork was just like, ‘good. Cuz he won’t answer to the one he has now.’ Kind of made up my mind for me,” Y/n said with a laugh. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

Bucky smiled at Y/n. “I’m Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky. Are you new to the neighborhood? Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Uh, I’m thinking about buying one of the units that’s for sale.”

“Well, it’s a great area. Not crazy expensive, plenty of things nearby, but also pretty quiet.”

“I was noticing that.”

There was a lull in the conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Bucky kept petting Loki, when Loki moved around Bucky and started to sniff at his hair.

“What the . . .” Bucky started. He felt a cold nose on the back of his head. It wasn’t unpleasant, but was definitely a weird feeling.

“Um, so I think he’s going to scent mark you.”

Bucky looked terrified. “He’s going to what?” Bucky tried to turn around to face the dog, but the leash was preventing him from fully turning around.

“So, like when a cat rubs its body on your legs, Loki likes to rub his body on your back. He rarely does it. He must really like you.” Y/n looked surprised. She moved her hands down the leash and stood up, trying to pull Loki closer to her without it hurting Bucky or Loki.

Bucky felt a mass of weight move against his back. He caught himself before falling.

“Loki, stop,” Y/n said sternly. “Shit, I’m sorry.” She managed to get Loki to move further away from Bucky.

Bucky just laughed. “It’s okay. Not what I expected when I came over here. You said it’s cuz he likes me.”

“Well, he’s marking you as his.” Y/n moved to look at Bucky’s back and winced. “I’m sorry. Your back is now full of dog fur.” She made to brush some of it off.

“It’s fine.” Bucky felt a sudden surge of confidence. He had thought Y/n was pretty. “If you wanna make it up to me, you can let me take you to dinner one night, maybe show me around the area?”

Y/n looked surprised. She had never had someone come on to her like that before, but she couldn’t deny she was interested in the gorgeous brunette. “I can make it up to you by letting you take me out? Shouldn’t I be the one paying?”

“I’m old fashioned.” Bucky waived off her comment. “So, what do you say?”

Y/n smiled. “I’d like that. Let me give you my number and we can set up the details.”

Bucky unlocked his phone and held it out to Y/n. Y/n reached out and quickly put in her number, sending herself a text. She heard a R2-D2 beep, letting her know the text had gone through. She handed the phone back to Bucky, who saved her number.

“I sent myself a text, so I know not to ignore your call. I tend to not answer unknown calls.”

“Smart. Well, I’ll be seeing you soon then.” Bucky leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Bye, Bucky.” Y/n had a slightly dazed look in her eyes, surprised by Bucky’s kiss. She bit her bottom lip, trying to contain the giant smile she felt coming. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

Y/n turned away and led Loki on to walk more. Bucky made his way back over to Sam, who was smirking.

“So, where are you taking me to dinner?”

Bucky looked at Sam. “Normally, I’d have a comment, but as I got a date with a beautiful dame, I’m gonna let it go.”

Sam smiled victoriously. They made their way over to the car. “Let’s go to dinner and you can tell me about her.”

[sokkas-honour]

Mako and 47

so my 47 is bonfire by childish gambino and yeah i don’t feel very comfortable with this so i’m using number 48 if that’s alright

(can we be friends?) - mako x reader

pairing: mako x reader

wc: 1.2k

warning: none :)

taglist: @missmorosis @biqherosix @draqondance

could you be my best friend?

lets hang out every weekend

“makkkoooooo.” you dragged out your friends name as you stepped into the pro bending gym, minutes after the sun had risen. on any other day of the week, your brother would be accompanying you to his team’s practice but it was sunday so they had the day off.

you quickly scanned the room and pouted slightly when you realised the fire bender was still up in the loft of the arena.

“in the last month you’ve only been late once, proud of you for keeping your streak up.” you spun around a smile on your face as soon as you heard his voice and were met with your best friend.

“well someone’s got to be here on time, you’re a minute late.” you teased as you embraced your friend, giving him a little extra squeeze when he wrapped his arms around you.

“we don’t even have a set time y/n, we literally said right when the sun rises.” he laughed while he placed his on your shoulder in order to return the squeeze. you could feel his chest shake with the laughter making you smile a little.

“yeah well you were still late for our sunday breakfast, and you live in this damn arena!” you exclaimed as you both separated. you looked up at him with a teasing sign and he simply rolled his eyes.

“come on, i’m starving.” he grabbed your hand and just like you did every weekend, you went down to the local fire nation bakery to get breakfast and watch republic city wake up.

we’re driving every night

stare at people that we like

you waited outside the cactus juice bar for mako to finally come out. he insisted on going to the bathroom before you two went out for your weekly night drive around republic city on your motorcycle. you stared at the sato mobiles pass in front of you, the stretch between each of them becoming bigger and bigger as everyone went home for the night.

“okay! i’m here.” you were broken out of your trance as mako closed the door to the popular bar behind him, wrapping his signature red scarf around him.

“took you long enough.” you teased. unbeknownst to you, the firebender had taken extra time to fix his hair and eyebrows to try to impress you, he did it every week when you’d spend the day together. he would never express his feelings for you in order to not only preserve your friendship but his friendship with your older brother, hasook, who just happened to be his teammate.

he rolled his eyes and gave you a small punch in the shoulder, unaware of how to react to that which just made you laugh at how emotionally dumb your friend was.

“im driving.” he exclaimed as you started to sit in the front of your motorcycle. you rose an eyebrow, knowing that he’d see it thanks to the street lamps providing some sort of light in the night streets.

“hasook will kill me if he finds out but show me what you got big boy.” you excitedly said. he’d driven it once a couple of months ago when you first started your sunday tradition but as soon as your brother found out, he gave you an entire lecture as to why only you should drive it and that mako would probably crash it, oh well.

you threw him the extra helmet before clipping yours on. he mirrored you then took his place in the front as you scooted backwards to give him space. while he gripped the handles tightly, you unconsciously had a tight grip around his own waist.

before starting the engine he noticed your grip around his waist and wondered why it was so tight, were you really that scared of his driving

“you know you don’t have to suffocate me.” he joked, slightly turning his head back to see a small blush dust your cheeks as you mumbled an apology and loosened your embrace. he immediately regretted saying that as he realised that he kind of liked your tight embrace as it meant that you were closer to him.

the sheer embarrassment of that moment made you want to cuddle your head into his back but your helmet prevented you from doing so. you closed your eyes as he started the engine and drove off.

within minutes you felt a serene sensation overcome you, the wind of the night air was cool on your skin and was an incredible and relaxation sensation.

mako shot a glance over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the state you were in and his heart felt warm. god did he wish he knew how to tell you how beautiful you were and how much he loved spending time with you. he would give everything up if it meant that he could look at you, feeling completely free, forever.

could you be my best friend?

ill tell you all my secrets

“can i tell you something?” you asked, tearing your gaze away from the stars and turning your full body to face him.

he kept his eyes on the sky but bummed as a way to let you know he was listening. his heart rate picked up slightly at the question, unsure of where the conversation would lead.

“sometimes i wish hasook would just, i don’t know, stop being so protective of me.” you confessed, a sigh leaving your lips at the thought of your brother. you continued your rant. “like, first of all, the story with the motorcycle. it’s mine and i trust you to drive, why does he get to dictate who drives it. he’s also said he didn’t fully appreciate our weekly meet-ups, as if it had anything to with him! you’re my best friend, i get to do whatever i want with you and he shouldn’t get a say!”

your voice had risen higher then you’d like to. with a cringe, you rolled back onto your back to mirror mako looking at the stars. mako contemplated what to answer, he didn’t want to seem against you but he understood where your brother came from. he did have to admit that the best friend part made his heart warm but also made it hurt, he’d never be more than a friend in your eyes.

“it’s fine, you don’t have to answer, i just needed to get it off my chest.” you finally said after silence had fallen between the two of you, slightly embarrassed at your stupid feelings.

“no, no it’s okay.” mako reassured, turning his head to admire your side profile as you looked at the stars.

“i understand where your brother is coming from though, i feel the same way about bolin. if anything would happen to him, i just don’t know what i would do.” it was now his turn to confess, his eyes searching for a sign of your understanding.

you turned to face him once again and met his eyes as a smile crept up on your face.

“it’s funny because i think it’s cute how protective you are of bo, but detest hasook for acting that way.” you giggled, a sound that made mako grin from ear to ear.

god was he head over heels for you. you both would end your time together by riding out of the city and find some grass to stargaze on. some times, the stargazing was silent and simply content with enjoying each other’s presence, other times, you both shared your secrets and whatever was on your mind. he wished he could tell you this secret that he held so close to his heart.

one day he would, one day he’d be more than your best friend, that’s what he liked to tell himself.

could you be my best friend? can we be friends?

[obeymeluv]

Red String of Fate

Something a little different! Drabble lead + headcanons! I really like the idea of being connected to someone, so have this~

Also: very long, so I only did a few of the brothers. I tend to do them in order but I tried to jump around for variety’s sake since I published a partial post the other day.

Features: Lucifer, Mammon, and Asmo (short-ish, but for a reason. Makes sense when you read the lead-up),

I have to get to bed. Need to get up early for studying + a morning class. Really love this idea so I’ll be working on something unique for the rest of the bros :)

Casual conversations about soulmates and bad dates inspires Asmo to find your one true love. He swears up and down there’s a book that can do it. Being a lover of love and feeling like it’s his duty to see you off into the best of hands—the hands made to hold you!—he sets out to find the book. Legend says Cupid pricked his finger while writing out love lists with his enchanted quill and threw the dirty pages away, deeming them unusable. Instead of being discarded, they were salvaged by another and turned into a book that would answer any love-related question the reader had.

All it would cost is a drop of blood.

Cupid, who was very serious about his task of uniting hearts and forging bonds, felt insulted by the book. He felt cheapened and could not see the joy it would bring before his arrow was destined to arrive. In a fit of rage he threw it from the heavens, assuming it would disintegrate before landing in another’s hands.

He was wrong.

The book circulated for centuries, making its way through humble and haughty, poor and princely. Some say it even inspired the most romantic of playwrights. It was kept by a family of matchmakers for generations before their home was pillaged and burned by a spurned heart. Traded out of guilt or in a desperate moment for silver or food (Asmo didn’t remember which), it ended up in the hands of a scholar. He sat with his crush and read the book, the two asking it hundreds of questions and finding themselves quite content with each other.

After the two got married, they were convinced it was a lucky charm of sorts and passed it along to their friends. Once those friends found their true loves, it started a chain of giving. When one family had all of their children married off, they would pass the book on to someone else. The book spent a fair amount of time collecting dust when one person lost their soulmate too soon and didn’t open it for about five years, convinced it would stay blank. A new love came into their life and they were so moved by the magic, by the joy, that they donated the book to a thrift shop.

Asmodeus lost the history after the thrift shop. Too many people went in and out of it, too much time had passed. All he knew is that it ended up in the hands of a witch who made serious money off of love potions and romantic divinations. One of her grandchildren—a quarter succubus and three-quarters human—had donated it to RAD’s library.

He should’ve just texted his friends about the damn thing instead of researching it like Levi does his events. Should he be proud of all the effort? You could be, but he was kind of put off by all the work. It was shabby and beaten, hardly bigger than a typical planner. Definitely unassuming and definitely looked like it’d seen some things. Asmodeus was expecting something gorgeously gilded and velvet.

Hopefully a peek into your future would make up for all the disappointment. “I bet it’s me.” he touched a finger to his soft lips with a giddy smile, little ring glinting in the light. He practically skipped out of the library and back to the House of Lamentation. At the very least, he’d get to go on and on about how he found it and how grateful you should be that he cares for you so much to do so!

Asmodeus whisks you away into his room, the bed already set with pillows that were both aesthetic and luxurious. Nothing too out of the norm for him, but he wanted something that complimented the romantic undertones of this little endeavor. He coddled the two of you in a plush pink blanket before cracking it open and guiding your finger along the edge of the page. The red soaked in, ink blossoming in a faint pink that turned a brilliant scarlet.

The book grew warm, almost burning as the scarlet began to sear and shimmer on the page. You heard him hiss and grabbed the book as he started to squirm and scoot out from under it. You’d barely grabbed the book when pinky-red smoke exploded violently in your face. It didn’t burn or have a taste but it was surprisingly thick.

“What? No names!” Asmodeus had finally swatted away enough of the smoke to see a blank book. “It’s supposed to be names!” he scowled, kittenish fangs threatening to poke at his lower lip.

“Maybe there’s been a revision,” you blinked distractedly, talking more to yourself than him. Nope, still there. You wagged your finger at Asmodeus, showing off the bright red string tied around it.

His oncoming rant receded immediately, eyes shining a gorgeous and unmistakable pink. “Let’s see where it goes!”

To Lucifer:  

He’s in the middle of doing paperwork (shocker) when he finds a vibrant red string tangling in his pen and catching on the lines

Tries to shake it off (very undignified, glad no one saw it)

Puts his pen down to pick at it and untie it. When that doesn’t work, he slips the opposite glove off with his teeth and lets his demon aura come out just enough to turn his fingernails into claws

That didn’t work either

Physically tries to pull the string off and begrudgingly stops when he realizes his finger might come off first

A huffy, annoyed man

Takes an awkward pic with his D.D.D and sends it to Diavolo, wanting to know if it’s a prank

Diavolo swears it’s not and Barbatos suggests it could be the red string theory, that thing some humans believe in.

Could it be true? Does he have a soulmate? Could he, being a fallen angel? Demons had soul mates?

All the questions swirl and he just leans back in his fancy padded chair to absorb it all. There’s something beautifully sad and...comforting...at the thought of demons having a soulmate, someone made just for them

Lucifer doesn’t really think that a soulmate’s at the end of the string, but he tells himself it’s a walk for the sake of his health, to stretch, and sets off to find the string

The eldest is quite surprised to run into you and Asmo, the string clearly tied around your finger.

“A bit overboard, don’t you think, Asmo?” Lucifer’s a little aggravated by it. What is this, a set up?!

His little brother swears against it, holding up a beaten book not even Mammon would waste money on.

Apparently, the string disappears when the soulmates touch their fingers together. Lucifer rolls his eyes and tries to soften his scowl as he presses his finger to yours.

You’re both surprised when the string thickens until it resembles a ribbon, kinking in the shape of a heart before disappearing in a burst of pinky-red smoke that has your fingers tingling

Lucifer says nothing, silently stunned and heart yearning at the tingling in his finger. It’s warm, like your love.

To Mammon:

IS IT ONE OF THE WITCHES?! IS THIS A TRACKER?!

First reaction: “OI! What the hell?!”

Also shakes his finger

Immediate second reaction is to chew on it and try to get it off

Ends up sucking on his tender finger like a baby because he basically chewed on himself instead of the string

Texted all the sorcerers and witches he knew. They all deny hexing him or mentioning him in potion-making.

He’s surprised to find he can still move around with the string. It’s not straining or limiting him, so he goes in his closet of magical seals, peeling a few back to reveal a sizeable hoard of stuff he’d stolen over the centuries (including some stuff he had on him from the Fall).

He tries daggers of all sizes and types. They don’t cut the string, either

When nothing seems to work, he marches towards the source, wrapping it around his fist with a grumble.

He pulls on it at random just because it’s a minor inconvenience and he couldn’t get it off.

Mammon notice that it runs under Asmo’s door and he yanks on it really hard, hoping he’s tearing thread off of a sweater or something. Annoying ass little brother!

When you yelp he freezes. Brain hasn’t quite kicked in yet and he yanks it again to check the reaction. Another yelp, and a thick thud behind the door.

Sounds like you’re involved somehow. Oops.

Turns out you had a hard time coming out of the room because he wound the string too quick (and weren’t strong enough to tug it back to yourself)

Asmo’s in the middle of lecturing him as he squishes your poor little face, scowling and lamenting that MAMMON is your soulmate. MAMMON, of all people, who’d been smacking you against a door for the last few minutes!

Now Mammon’s interested and needs the story

Gets a biiiig shit-eating grin when he realizes what’s happened.

Takes your hand with his usual fanfare of ‘’Course I would be! I’m their MAIN man! Their BEST man!”

The string seems to tie your hands together for a brief moment before exploding in a burst of smoke and Mammon’s still grinning like an idiot.

He doesn’t let go of your hand

To Asmodeus:

He’s waving that smoke away when he feels a new, subtle weight on his finger

Whatever it is, it’s flitting and ticklish. He can feel it catching on some of the fashion rings he wears

Asmodeus doesn’t know whether he wants to purr or squeal. He did something that hurt your human ears though.

Didn’t realize it hurt your ears until after the noise bottoms out to a lower pitch, and immediately cups his hands over yours ears, sliding them up into your hair while he showers the crown of your head in apology kisses.

Makes a video clip to send to the bros in a group chat and has to redo it several times because they can’t really hear his words over the smug purring and clicking

It warms his heart to know he has a real soulmate. Asmodeus really struggles with the concept of genuine, non-sexual love.

He figured the most he could ever get was platonic love or brotherly love, but this is a whole new thing for him and he’s honestly blown away

For a brief moment he feels like Heaven’s Jewel again, so treasured and special. It almost makes him cry

He’s lowkey crying.

100% takes advantage of the fact that your fingers are tied together until you touch fingertips. You guys giggle quietly and cuddle close as he loops the string around his finger so you put your arm around his neck

“You don’t need a string to make me touch you, you know.” you tease him, wrinkling your nose in that cute human way you have

“I know,” Asmo gives you an Eskimo kiss that turns into a few butterfly kisses on your mouth, leaning over you and into you.

Totally uses the string as an excuse to cuddle you and turn down any activities the bros want you to go to. (”Can’t, they’re kind of tied up.”)

Let this baby bask in his sure thing, okay? He really needs it, and you know he’s good for it

Gives you hand kisses and cuddles into you

Gets the bright idea to try to bottle the smoke that’ll erupt when you touch fingertips. Sacrifices his most beautiful perfume bottle to immortalize this moment

Catches the littlest bit, so thin that he has to hold it up to the light to see it.

Complains about probably swallowing most of it during that attempt

Is now even more shameless about demanding his cuddles and attention because you guys are destined lovers.