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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Part Sixteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n:

***

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

In Cassian’s arms, Nesta is shocked for all of a second before melting into his heat, kissing him back with just as much tenderness and joy as he gives her.

Fireworks go off, illuminating the scene around them, but he doesn’t hear or see any of it. Confetti poppers are popped, sending glitter and paper flying everywhere, and still he kisses Nesta.

It’s not until the fireworks show hits its crashing climax that Nesta flinches, breaking away from his lips.

She hates loud noises, Cassian remembers. He stupidly considers covering her ears against the noise for her, but then her shoulders relax, and she comes in again for a deeper kiss. His hands tangle in her bronze hair, and when they next break apart, he remembers the words he’s been holding in for so long. “I love you,” he says against her mouth, imprinting the shape of the words onto her lips. Her answering grin is bright enough to match the moon.

For a single moment, they are a perfect couple. No secrets, no baggage, no outsiders to judge them. And then the fireworks die out and the confetti falls to the floor, and the lights seem to turn bright enough to burn the eyes. The party returns to normal, and so do they.

Nesta is clutching Cassian’s wrist, looking like she has something she needs to say, but then her gaze drifts past his shoulder. To where her sisters and his friends are. She looks up at Cassian nervously. “Can you—”

“Deal with that?” he finishes for her, referring to the friends who had surely seen everything. “Yes.” It’s his responsibility to bear in the first place. Nesta doesn’t owe anybody except her sisters an answer.

Nesta looks torn between feeling guilty and grateful. “I should be there with you.”

Cassian can’t help but be awed. Nesta, who can’t have dinner without knowing what’s on the menu at least two hours ahead, has no idea what to expect from his friends. And still she’s offering to face them with him.

He takes her hand and runs a soothing thumb down her racing pulse, then her sweaty palm. “Go back inside,” he tells her, placing a kiss on her fingers. “I’ll find you when I’m done.” He might put a little sensual promise into his words to ease the nerves lacing her body, but he doesn’t know if it helps. She nods and stalks off.

Cassian stays where he is and leans his arms against the wooden balcony railing, staring into the clear night while the rest of the guests slowly trail back into the warmth of the cabin. He and Nesta will have to clean up this whole mess of confetti and streamers tomorrow, and they’ll have to do something about the new wine stain he spotted earlier on the couch—

Feyre storms up to him first. “How long?” she demands.

He looks sidelong at her. “How long, what?”

“How long have you had feelings for my sister?” Her cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold or rage Cassian can’t tell. This isn’t the question he expected from her.

“Since the day you told me to pick her up from the middle of the woods,” he answers honestly.

Feyre turns impossibly redder. “And how long have you been together?”

“Since Thanksgiving.”

Feyre looks seconds away from attacking him. “I trusted you—”

“Darling.” Rhys has come up behind her, Mor and Elain trailing him. Azriel watches coolly from the door, likely only there to see the drama unfold.

Rhys puts a hand on Feyre’s back, and she ignores it. “I trusted you to take care of her, to live with her, because I knew you would never take advantage of her like that. Because I believed you wouldn’t do exactly what you’ve just done,” she seethes at him.

Cassian stares in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about right now?”

“I’m talking about how you’ve had a hard-on for Nesta this whole time, in close quarters with her, and never thought it was worth mentioning to me.”

“I share one kiss with my girlfriend and that’s what you jump to? That I preyed on your adult sister? You really have no other questions for me?” His voice raises with every sentence, and a few guests lingering on the ground below glance up toward the balcony.

“What else am I supposed to believe?” She’s nearly shouting at him. “You didn’t tell me anything. You lied to me, knowing that Nesta is—Nesta.”

“For good fucking reason, I’m starting to see.”

“Cassian,” Rhysand says warningly.

Cassian didn’t hear him. “What is your real problem with Nesta, Feyre? Where is the problem in me loving her and her loving me? Do you think she’s incapable of making decisions for herself, or is this another thing where you’re jealous she has a life outside of you?”

“That is not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” he demands.

“You know!” She stabs a finger at his chest, chin quivering. “You know how she is, how she feels and sees things differently than most people, and how her history with men isn’t great. And you still thought it was okay to drag her into a relationship. Why else wouldn’t you tell anyone about it, if you didn’t feel it was wrong?”

Cassian’s face turns colder than the frozen air around them. “I don’t know who you’re talking about right now, but it isn’t your sister,” he says. “It’s not my fault if you don’t know her the way you thought you did. Take that up with her, not me.”

Feyre’s breath steams in the air before her. “I will,” she fumes. She spins on her heel to leave, but Cassian catches her by the wrist.

“After you cool down,” he demands. “You’re not ruining her night.”

Feyre stares him down for a long moment, and eventually shakes his hand off her wrist. She walks back inside, waving Rhys away when he tries to follow. Elain, who Cassian forgot was there, stares at him before going inside as well.

Rhysand turns back to Cassian with ice in his violet eyes.

“Don’t start,” Cassian says, tired. “She doesn’t need you fighting her battles for her.”

“That’s not what I was going to talk about,” he says. “You lied to us.”

Mor bundles deeper into her white coat. “You really love her?” she says quietly.

Azriel steps into their little circle beside Cassian without saying a word. Supporting Cassian in silence.

“I liked having something I didn’t have to share with everyone,” Cassian says, the admission feeling heavy on his tongue. “And I don’t regret it. It was nice while it lasted.”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Mor mutters.

“So,” Rhys gestures at the spot where Cassian and Nesta kissed, “that’s it? You’re dating Feyre’s sister now, with nothing else to say?”

“This isn’t a damn group decision,” Cassian grits.

“That’s not what we meant,” says Mor. “But you’ve been hiding an entire girlfriend up here for months. We have questions.”

“Then I’ll hold a Q&A session later,” he says sardonically. “But since we’re on the topic of Nesta, I do have something to say.”

Mor and Rhys look taken aback.

Cassian straightens up. “You don’t have to like her. You definitely don’t have to be friends with her. But I expect all of you to respect her, even Amren. If it’s not something you would say out loud about Feyre or Elain, then it won’t be something you say about Nesta. You will be on your best behavior around her, and you will not upset or scare her away. Is that clear?”

Az snorts. “Yes, General.”

Cassian cuts a sharp look in his direction. “That applies to you, too. Don’t toy around with her.”

Az grows solemn and nods.

“Is that it?” Mor raises a brow.

“You might find it harder than you think.”

She scoffs. “Well, if I had known I was bitching about your girlfriend this entire time…”

“You wouldn’t have changed,” Azriel interjects. “You’d be even worse.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. I can play nice.”

Cassian looks to Rhys.

“I haven’t spoken a word to her in years,” Rhys grumbles.

“You will respect her, even when she’s not in the room.” He doubts Nesta will be happy to have shit talked about her when she isn’t in a sex-driven haze.

Rhys looks away. “I can’t believe you even have to ask me such a thing,” he mutters. “She’s with you now, of course I’ll lay off her.”

“And you’ll stay out of the sisters’ issues,” Cassian adds.

Rhys smiles wryly. “When did we switch jobs? You want to be boss now or something?”

“If we’re done here, can we go the fuck inside?” Mor groans. “I’m freezing. And I’m holding you to that Q&A session.” She points a finger at Cassian.

He allows himself to grin, feeling truly light for the first time in months. It isn’t a band-aid solution to everything, but it’s better than lying to his family for the rest of his life. Mor and Az head back inside, and Cassian and Rhys trail them. It’s not until Cassian reaches the door that he remembers—

“What was it you wanted to tell me earlier?” He turns to Rhys.

Rhys looks startled, then uncomfortable. “I don’t think it’s the right time for it anymore. You might not want to hear it at all.”

Well, now Cassian’s curious. “Just tell me. I want to know.”

Rhys holds in a sigh. “Fine. Let’s talk inside.”

***

It’s almost two in the morning when the last guest goes home, and Feyre has no excuse left to idle around.

She finds Nesta in the kitchen doing dishes, her back turned to Feyre. Her heels have been discarded, her hair is tied up out of her face, and her sequined dress sleeves are pushed up her arms so they don’t get wet. She looks so… at home. Like this kitchen and the rest of the cabin is undeniably hers.

It reminds Feyre that it wasn’t Cassian kissing Nesta that felt like a punch to the throat. It was when Feyre saw Nesta break away, smile brightly, and kiss him back.

Feyre carefully approaches the island and clears her throat. Nesta doesn’t hear her over the sound of running water. Feyre tries again harder, but swallows the wrong way and ends up in a coughing fit.

That gets Nesta’s attention. She spins around to find Feyre hacking like an idiot, and shuts the tap off. “What’s wrong with you?” she says.

Feyre coughs one final time, her throat scratchy now. “Water. I need water.”

Nesta’s eyes nearly roll out of her head, but she grabs a clean glass and fills it up, handing it to Feyre.

Feyre chugs half the glass and sets it down with an exhale. “I was trying to say,” she starts after an awkward moment, “that you look very settled here.”

“I am,” Nesta says without pause.

“And you’ve probably heard about my—argument with Cassian by now.” Cassian, who is no longer just Feyre’s friend, but Nesta’s boyfriend. Someone Nesta loves, if Feyre heard correctly in her fury.

“Unfortunately, wooden walls carry sound pretty far.” That’s all Nesta bothers to say before turning the sink on again, resuming her dishwashing.

Feyre used to think Nesta’s lack of words meant she had nothing to say. Now she suspects there’s a storm of words raging in Nesta’s head. Too many words to even try to string together coherently, so she stays silent instead.

“I wanted to ask for your side of the story,” Feyre says. “I didn’t even think to consider your feelings before I went off at Cassian, and I might have made—some assumptions.”

“You implied that I was too weak-minded to make decisions for myself and that Cassian took advantage of my weaknesses to get me into his bed.” Nesta’s tone is flat, her eyes on the plate she’s scrubbing.

Feyre winces when she hears it out loud. “Yes, I did that.”

“Why should I tell you anything?” Nesta says. “You clearly have no problem believing what you already believe.”

“I can’t know how you feel about things if you never tell me, Nesta,” Feyre tries to defend. “I’ve been going off my assumptions for years because you don’t share anything about yourself. If I had misconceptions about you, you never corrected them.”

“And that’s an excuse to not ask me about my feelings? To not come to me when you have concerns about my life?”

“I’m coming to you now,” Feyre says. “That’s the whole point.”

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Feyre adds, “I know that we don’t know how to communicate without offending each other. So for five minutes can we just put the defensiveness aside and talk about this?”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about.” Nesta rinses the last glass and shuts the water off, going to dry her hands on a towel.

“I’ll start then: Why didn’t you tell me about you and Cassian?”

Nesta stares at the countertop. “If I answer that question honestly, you’ll call me cruel.”

Feyre hides her flinch, and decides she doesn’t need to hear the answer. Deep down, she probably already knows it. “Alright. When did you start liking him as more than a friend?”

“October. Do you want cake?” Nesta turns toward the fridge in search of dessert.

“I’m good,” Feyre says. “How did you—fall for him?” She’s had all night to think about these questions, but it still sounds impossible saying it out loud. Like two worlds colliding in the weirdest way.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Feyre repeated for the third time that night, sequestered with Elain touching up her makeup in one of the bathrooms. “Does it make sense to you?”

“I can see it,” Elain said flatly. “Nesta’s emotional, and Cassian’s emotionally intelligent. If anyone could put in the work to understand her, it’s him.”

Elain didn’t show a hint of feeling since she watched Cassian sweep Nesta into his arms and kiss her like a hero from a romance novel. When Feyre later asked Elain if she wanted to talk to Nesta with her, she curtly refused and proceeded to leave the party early.

Now, Nesta busies herself by digging through the fridge. “He’s kind. He’s unfaltering. He’s easy to talk to. It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot.”

“Is that it?”

Nesta shuts the fridge, cake in hand. “Why don’t you ask what you really want to ask, Feyre?” She yanks a drawer open with a little too much force and grabs a fork.

This, Feyre hasn’t practiced for. But she needs to find a way to voice it. “I never knew… after Tomas, I didn’t think you would trust a man again. I didn’t trust a man with you again.”

Nesta whips her head to glare at Feyre, and Feyre shrinks away from her near-feral stare. She spoke too much. She fucked it up already.

“What do you know about Tomas?” Nesta says lowly.

“It doesn’t take a genius to know that Tomas was shit. I never liked him. I was so happy when you left him.”

“And what?” Nesta drops the cake onto the island with a thump. “You thought he broke me? You thought I’d never find love again?”

Feyre looks down, playing with her nails. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe, Nesta,” she says quietly.

“And I’m trying to tell you I don’t need your protection. I never did. You do not get to assume what I’m fit for and what I’m not. You do not get to pretend to know me when you’ve never made an effort to understand me.”

“Made an effort?” Feyre can’t believe Nesta’s words. “All I’ve ever done my whole life is make an effort—to talk to you, to be close with you.”

“No,” she says firmly. “You only ever tried to make me do things your way. You wanted me to be more like you. I always came over to your place, I always participated in your parties, I always did the things you wanted to do even when I hated it, because that was me making an effort for you.”

The words take a long time to sink in. Feyre finally swallows. “Do you always have to be so cruel?”

“I’m not being cruel. This is just me. The person you see is the person Cassian fell in love with, and he likes me just fine. You’re the one who’s never liked me.” Nesta’s chest is heaving. “Yes, I am well aware of my flaws, and yes, I’m putting in the work to get past them. That’s what therapy is for. But until you look at your own issues instead of being personally offended by mine all the time, I can’t speak to you without wanting to scream.” She’s trembling as if she’s holding in a shriek right now. “I can’t keep bearing the weight of it—of our past, of everything you want that I can’t give. You won’t let me move away from it.”

Her words ring in the silence.

Feyre’s face is cold, and she touches it to find tears on her cheeks. “I didn’t know…” She blinks, looking away. She suddenly wants to be anywhere else but here, where all she’s good for is torturing her sister. But Feyre is twenty-one years old and she’s getting too old to keep this hateful thing between her and Nesta alive. She reaches for the cake and takes off the lid. “Get me another fork,” she sniffs through tears.

Nesta stares at her for a long moment, then does what she asked. Feyre wipes her eyes.

They sit across from each other at the island and dig in without bothering to get plates. Feyre takes a bite and makes a face at the sour taste, nearly spitting it out. “What is this, lemon?”

“Yes,” Nesta says, stabbing her fork into the cake. “Lemon is for guests.”

“Implying you have different types of cake lying around?” She points to the fridge.

“Chocolate is for Cassian. You can’t have it.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Shared cake, Feyre thinks. How long until they sign up for coinsurance?

They eat in silence for a few minutes, but Feyre’s mind whirls the entire time. She has to speak first, but she doesn’t know where to start.

The beginning might be good.

“I…” she speaks hesitantly, “didn’t mean to make you feel responsible for the past. That wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

Nesta doesn’t look comforted by her words. “You think Dad wouldn’t have let us all die in our pile of bills if you hadn’t stepped up?”

True. Feyre used to drown in bitterness over it: working forty hours a week and then some just to keep the family alive, and receiving nothing in return. While Nesta escaped to the woods to read all day and Elain flirted with boys in mall parking lots, Feyre carried the brunt of reality on her shoulders. It wasn’t until their father died and she got out of that town that she realized—if it was anybody’s fault, it was his.

“I think we all did our best to survive,” Feyre says. “Especially you. But if it’s moving away from me and Elain that you want, I can’t give it to you.”

Nesta looks unsurprised. Before she can argue, Feyre states firmly, “I can do things your way. I can come to you. We can learn to meet each other halfway.”

“Then you’ll be disappointed when, even after all that work, I still find you annoying as fuck.”

Feyre actually laughs. The sentiment still stings, but… “We’ll just have to see how it goes.” But what if Nesta never does like her? The thought nags. What will she do then?

Nesta narrows her eyes at Feyre. “And what about Elain?”

Her absence in the kitchen suddenly feels pointed. Feyre twirls her fork. “We’re not as close as you think, you know. I don’t always know what she’s feeling. You might have to figure her out on your own.”

Nesta looks like she would rather die.

A knock sounds at one of the kitchen entryways. Feyre turns to see Cassian leaning against the wall, looking warily between the two sisters. “I hate to interrupt,” he says, “but can I see Nesta now?”

It still startles Feyre: he’s here for Nesta, not her. That’ll definitely take some time to get used to.

“For sure,” Feyre says, getting up from her seat. She looks back at Nesta, wondering about how much more they need to say to each other…

From the look on Nesta’s face, they’ve done enough for tonight. “I’ll be calling, then,” Feyre says.

“Can’t promise I’ll answer,” Nesta replies.

Of course. Feyre turns on her heel to leave, but stops before Cassian for a brief moment. “I’m so sorry.” The words flow a lot more easier with him than they would with Nesta. “I said some terrible things outside—please forgive me.” She’s genuinely terrified at the idea of losing Cassian over her battle with her sister.

Cassian smiles down at her, not his usual grin but something gentler, more understanding. “There’s nothing to worry about.” His eyes dart to Nesta for confirmation of this, and he must like whatever he sees, because he looks back at Feyre and ruffles her hair. “Glad you’re feeling better, kid.”

***

Once Feyre leaves and Cassian can hear her and Rhys getting ready for the limo drive back home, he finally allows himself to approach Nesta at the island. Rounding the counter to where she sits, he wraps her into a hug.

For once, Nesta doesn’t question his unsolicited affection. She leans in and wraps her own arms around his torso, resting her head against his stomach. “Where were you this whole time?” Her voice is muffled in his shirt.

“Nowhere,” he plays off easily. “Just talking to Rhys about work stuff.”

The conversation lasted much longer than Cassian would have preferred, but by the end of it Cassian’s stance was firm.

“It’s a year-long project based in Milan. It would technically be a promotion for you, and you would work on-site the whole time. I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to get out of the cabin,” Rhys said.

“By sending me out of the country?” Cassian scoffed.

“With the way you’ve been avoiding us lately—I know now that it was about Nesta, but when I heard about the position, you were the first person to come to mind. Taking time to yourself, traveling on your own, making a mark without having your entire family attached to your hip… It sounded like something you needed, so I recommended you for the job.”

Rhys was scarily accurate, because those were all things that Cassian wanted. He and Nesta made lists about places they wanted to visit all the time. But doing it like this?

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to Italy.”

Rhys looked away. “That’s what I thought you’d say. You’re still in the honeymoon phase with Nesta.”

“Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t go. A year away from home? What are you thinking?”

Rhys raised his hands in defense. “Look, you don’t have to go. I can give the position away to someone else. But you’re the most qualified and deserving person on the team and we both know it.”

Even now, Cassian knows it. Unfortunately for Rhys, that won’t get his answer to change.

He smiles down to where Nesta hides in his arms, visibly exhausted after the night she’s had. “How did your talk with Feyre go?” he has to ask.

“I thought I was being pretty generous. I didn’t even call her a hypocrite for half the things I wanted to.”

“Does that mean it went well?”

Nesta sighs against his chest. “I think we reached some sort of understanding. Though I’m not sure if that makes me a bad person, for giving her hope of a better relationship between us.”

“I think it makes you a strong person,” Cassian says honestly.

“And what if I can’t deliver?”

“You can’t find out until you try.”

Nesta looks up to meet his eyes, and for a short second he’s overwhelmed by need. “Say it again,” he breathes.

Her brows furrow. “Say what?”

“What you said in the truck. I need to hear it again.”

“Oh, that.” She looks embarrassed. “Iloveyou,” she mutters quickly.

He pokes her. “Say it like you mean it, not like you’re announcing you have syphilis.”

She glares, but clears her throat and gets serious. “Cassian. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

His heartbeat stutters at the earnestness on her face. “Since when?” His lips spread into a grin.

Her face drops. “Yeah, this is really putting a damper on my feelings right now.” Nesta starts to squirm out of his arms.

“No, wait—” He tries to stop her.

“I’ll help you clean in the morning, okay?” She yawns, heading for the exit. “Good night, babe.”

“I was kidding—” He starts to follow after her, shouting, “Where are you going?”

***

Nesta wakes late the next morning with a solid warmth pressed against her back. For a second, it disorients her. She never wakes up before Cassian.

But she turns around and there he is, dead asleep while the sun is already high in the sky.

She reaches up on instinct to brush his silken hair out of his face. He’ll be pissed he missed his six a.m. workout, New Year’s Day be damned.

Putting on her glasses from the nightstand, Nesta carefully eases out of bed and crosses the room to pull the curtains shut over the wall of windows. When she’s satisfied that the room is dark enough, she tiptoes out of it.

The downstairs is still a mess from last night. Nesta wrinkles her nose at the sight of it. Discarded champagne glasses scatter the living and dining areas, and whoever snuck in those damn confetti poppers left a mess on the hardwood floors. Platters of long since finished food lie on random surfaces.

“Even the rich and sophisticated party like pigs,” she mutters to herself, stepping over a discarded throw pillow to reach the kitchen. She needs coffee and a hose to scrub this place down—

“Good morning.”

Nesta yelps, spinning toward the figure near the sink she didn’t see while coming in. “Fucking Christ!”

Azriel doesn’t blink, holding an apple in one hand and a paring knife in the other. “We’re out of coffee.” He looks like he just rolled out of bed, sweatpants and all.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta demands. “Where did you come from?”

“Ah, about that,” he says casually. “I never left.”

“You slept here?”

“Do you have breakfast? Because there isn’t even a box of cereal in this place.”

“Azriel,” Nesta forces his name out. “Start answering my questions.”

He has the decency to look sorry and blushes. “I needed some time away from Velaris. I figured the cabin would be empty since you moved out and I brought some of my stuff over last night.”

“So when I found you upstairs…?”

“I was staking out a room to stay in.”

Nesta has so many questions she almost forgets to be upset. But it’s hard not to be upset when she’s standing in front of a near-stranger in only Cassian’s shirt. “Does Cassian know about this?”

Azriel carves out an apple slice and shrugs dismissively. “He will soon.”

Her stomach churns with familiar anxiety. “But you can’t—” She wrings the shirt she’s wearing in her hands. “You can’t do this.”

“Why not? It’s my brother’s place.” His eyes dare her to disagree. “In my defense, I didn’t think you’d be living here when I decided to move in.”

“I don’t live here,” she says. In fact, she’s supposed to return to her apartment tomorrow. “But I spend a lot of time here and I didn’t get to prepare for—” she waves her hands in Azriel’s direction, “you.” It’s a wrench thrown in the gears of Nesta’s carefully calculated life.

Azriel raises a dark brow. “Do you need to prepare for me?” He pushes an apple slice into his mouth.

“Yes!” This is a change she had no say in, and those are the worst kind of changes.

Azriel puts the apple and knife down and leans against the counter. “Prepare for me, then.”

“What?”

“Before Cassian gets up, take the time to get used to the fact that I’m going to be around for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Nesta pales.

“A month, tops,” he promises. When Nesta doesn’t look reassured, he says quietly, “Go on. Do what you need to do to get comfortable.”

“But I barely know you,” she says. Well, Nesta knows Azriel is the pretty brother and the quiet brother, but now she’s starting to think he’s also the weird brother.

That’s three things they have in common, at least.

“Uh...what do you want to know?” He tries to sound nice, inviting. Nesta uses that awkward tone all the time.

It actually brings her some semblance of comfort. She sits down carefully on a barstool and asks, “Why are you really here?”

“I’m avoiding someone,” he answers without hesitation.

“Who?”

“Nobody of interest to you.” They’re doing rapid fire mode, then.

“Do you know how to cook?” she says.

“No. Do you?”

“No.” A loss on both parts. “What are you good at?”

“Minding my business.”

Nesta narrows her eyes at him. “Like you were minding your business outside Cassian’s room last night?”

He makes the slightest wince. “That was an unfortunate incident where I toyed with you. It won’t happen again.”

She doesn’t know why, but she believes him.

“What won’t happen again?”

Nesta turns to find Cassian trudging into the kitchen, looking only half-awake. He notices Azriel. “Oh, hey bro.”

Azriel nods. “Hey.”

Cassian is about to drop a kiss onto Nesta’s head when he freezes. “Wait.” The look on his face makes Nesta forget her earlier discomfort; she laughs out loud.

Peering all the way up at him from her seat, she says, “Your brother is moving in. I am reacting to this like a well-adjusted human being.”

He raises his brows. “Are you now?”

“I didn’t freak out one bit,” she says, trying to spare Azriel from her boyfriend’s overprotective wrath. Cassian doesn’t buy it.

He looks at Azriel and tilts his head toward the living room. “You wanna talk?” He leaves before the other man can answer.

Nesta shrugs apologetically at Azriel’s stunned face. “I did my best. He’s going to give you a lecture on boundaries now.”

“No, he’s not,” Azriel grumbles as he starts following after Cassian. “He’s going to beat my ass.”

***

a/n: when in doubt, write a flashback scene in italics

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara9 @lanyjoy-13

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic

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spooky-z · 4 years

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FACT CHECK

3.6K

Maribat by @ozmav

Of all the investigations Alya had done in the name of journalism, finding out that Chloe Bourgeois and Marinette Dupain-Cheng were dating had been... disheartening.

Lila had told her she noticed the strange behavior of Chloe and Marinette, suspecting that the two were together, but Alya dismissed the idea because Chloe and Marinette dating? This could only be a joke.

But it was when Alya also noticed the behavior of the two girls and decided to investigate, that the truth came out.

Lila was right. She would never doubt her best friend again.

Knowing that the Queen of Hearts and Gremhilde were in a relationship came as a shock to Alya, but knowing the reason for that relationship was indeed sad.

Because fake a relationship to get Adrien's attention? That was beyond pathetic.

Alya knew that Marinette was jealous of Lila for being close to Adrien, and possibly was dating the model in secret - the Italian was being difficult to drop the word, despite the continuous blush being all the confirmation that the journalist needed -, which she feels sorry for the designer.

She also knew that Chloe did not love Adrien, but she was unhappy with the fact that the boy was no longer her private toy and that he had despised her in favor of true friends.

But setting up a crazy plan to get the boy's attention was a new level of insanity for both girls. They needed to understand that no meant no.

It was no surprise to Alya that Chloe acted in retaliation, but Marinette with Chloe? Alya felt sorry for her ex best friend.

Alya hadn't told the class yet because she didn't want to humiliate Marinette in front of everyone, but she told Lila, because she deserved to know the truth.

She was sitting in her place in the classroom, next to Nino and behind Adrien and Lila. Mlle. Bustier had given them free time, as long as they didn't leave their seats and keep the conversation low.

Chloe's snorting laughter echoed through the room from moment to moment, Marinette trying to control the blonde and Sabrina looking like she wanted to fall into a fit of laughter. The three problems of the Mlle. Bustier’s class together.

"It's sad, you know?" Lila sighed at her. She and Adrien facing Alya and Nino's table so they can talk. "They force themselves to act like they're happy just to get attention."

"What do you mean, dudete?" Nino questioned confused.

"It's kind of obvious that they keep doing these things to get their attention." Lila had a sad look in her eyes. "If they weren't so mean to me, I wouldn't mind being friends with them."

Alya felt her heart ache for her best friend. She suffered so much at the hands of the three and yet there she was, wanting to make friends with her bullies.

"You don't have to feel guilty, girl." She squeezed Lila's hand on the table. "They don't deserve your friendship, do they, Adrien?"

The boy had a complicated expression on his face, but he nodded cautiously. "Sure..."

Alya did not understand certain behaviors that Adrien had. Of course, the boy lived for years trapped in the ivory tower that was the Agreste mansion, but she thought that after hanging out with them for so long, he would have come out of his shell, but it looked like she was wrong.

At least, from what Lila said, he was much more open to her when they were alone. She hoped that this would soon change in relation to her friends.

▫▪▪

The next day, she was casually checking her blog, noting the decline in her popularity, before checking OTS-OnTheSpot. The blog that had debuted in the news world, being the rival of Ladyblog.

Alya was increasingly irritated by Ladybug's clear preference for the new blog over Ladyblog. Of course, the person - because nobody knew who it was and Max was unable to track the IP - obviously had better equipment than Alya, who only worked with the phone, but for Ladybug to betray her like that, it had been a slap in the face.

Somehow OTS got the best photos, the best videos, the best interviews, but no one ever got a glimpse of who the journalist was. Not even Chat Noir - she had asked - knew who the person behind the blog was, since he had never been interviewed before.

That was the other problem she had with OTS.

The person clearly focused on all miraculous and non-miraculous heroes, except Chat Noir. In fact, the times the blog touched on the cat hero's name, it was to mock his behavior in the middle of the battle. Not to mention, they were clearly a RoBug shipper - Robin and Ladybug - which, in Alya's opinion, was an insult to the black dots hero.

Everyone knew that LadyNoir was the real couple there. Chat Noir had confirmed in the last interview that Alya got of the hero.

She was wallowing in self-pity when Lila hurried into the classroom, drawing everyone's attention. All but Chloe who was messing with the phone, Nathaniel who drew on the tablet and Sabrina, who wrote something on a notepad. Marinette as always, late.

"Alya!" Lila ran to her. "You will not believe what I just saw."

The girl rose quickly from her chair, her journalistic senses on alert.

“What was that girl? Is it an akuma?”

With that, both Chloe and Adrien turned to the two.

The Italian shook her head in denial.

"No. It's Marinette.” She takes a deep breath, catching her breath. "Marinette was kissing a very scary guy in front of the school."

"WHAT?!" Alya shouted. "Are you sure it was her?"

Lila nodded frantically. "Absolutely sure. When they walked away, I saw her face and I also heard him call her name.”

Alya sat back in her chair in shock. Incredulous that Marinette would do something so dirty just to get attention.

"I think she realized that the plan with Chloe wouldn't work and tried to get attention in another way." Lila sighed. Only Nino and Adrien being able to hear their conversation.

The DJ frowned in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

Adrien was pale, but he didn't open his mouth to say anything.

"We found that-"

"MARIN!" Chloe squeaked in the background, running into Marinette's arms.

Alya and Lila were suddenly silent, watching the scene unfold. Alya had a sour taste in her mouth, disgusted by the way Marinette managed to act like nothing was happening. As if she weren't dirty.

"Hey, Coco." The brunette said, hugging Chloe. "Sorry for the delay, I had some things to resolve."

Chloe moved away from her; hands clasped together. "No problem." She smiled. It was rare for the class to see such a sincere smile coming from Chloe. "Come. I want to show you something that Timochi and I found earlier.” And he pulled the girl up the stairs, greeting Sabrina and Nathaniel on the way.

For a moment, Alya considered leaving this problem alone.

Sure, Marinette and Chloe deserved to be exposed to their friends, but technically neither was doing anything wrong. None attacked or did anything to harm Adrien, so no damage was done.

But then Alya remembered the smile that Chloe had shown when she saw Marinette.

This was not a fake or staged smile. That was a genuine and affectionate smile. Then Alya came to the conclusion that Chloe did indeed liked Marinette, while Marinette was only using the blonde as a springboard to reach Adrien.

The journalist might as well have ignored this discovery and let Chloe break her heart, as a vengeance for everything Bourgeois had done against them, but she failed. Alya was a fair girl. She couldn't sleep peacefully knowing that Marinette was playing with someone's feelings.

Even if that someone was Chloe Bourgeois.

She got up from the chair, facing the back of the room and Marinette. Lila had long since moved away to her chair beside Adrien.

Alya was furious.

“Marinette, aren't you ashamed of yourself? Act like nothing is wrong. I didn't know you could be that cold and calculating.” She caught everyone's attention again, especially Marinette.

Marinette sighed, her elbow resting on the table, she laid her head on her palm. There was an air of boredom around her. Chloe, Sabrina and Nathaniel with unimpressed looks on their faces.

“What did I do this time, Alya? I knocked Lila down the stairs? I hit Lila with a piece of wood? I stole Lila's ideas again?” The disinterested tone irritated the journalist even more.

"No, although all the statements are real, I am not talking about that." Alya spat. "I'm talking about you being a fake and dirty person, who's using Chloe in your sordid little game."

Everyone in the classroom began to whisper fervently, curious about the newest drama in the class.

"What?!" Chloe said without a voice. The expression on the blonde's face was pure disbelief.

Marinette raised an eyebrow, moving from her relaxed posture to a stiff one.

"What are you accusing me of this time, Alya?"

"I'm talking about you and Chloe dating and you cheating on her with someone in front of the school!" Alya shouted angrily.

Marinette whistled, unimpressed.

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

“I know everything, Marinette Dupain-Cheng! Don't you dare deny it!” The girl sidestepped Nino's hand, who was trying to calm his girlfriend. "I know about your silly plan to pretend to be dating Chloe just to get Adrien's attention and that Chloe likes you!"

Marinette stared at Alya without reaction and Alya celebrated it, believing she had won the argument.

That, of course, until Chloe, Marinette, Sabrina, and Nathaniel fell into a fit of violent laughter. Scaring all the students and leaving Alya surprised.

"What are you laughing at?!" Lila stood up to defend Alya. "It is true! We know everything!”

Sabrina was the first to compose herself, wiping away the tears that had escaped by the force of laughter. "Really? What else do you know?”

"I don't understand what you're laughing at!" Alya snarled, before turning to Chloe. “You should be thanking us for exposing Marinette. Hello, is she cheating on you!?”

"Alya, dear and innocent, Alya." Nathaniel sighed. Some laughter still escaping. "Where did you get that Chloe and Marinette are dating each other?"

Alya snorted indignantly at the mockery. "What are you talking about? Lila-“

“Oh, of course. Lila.” Chloe rolled her eyes. "The most reliable source of news you can find." The acidity in the words did not go unnoticed by anyone.

"Hey!" Coming from offended Lila.

"Sure, you're not wrong to assume that Chloe and I had something, since well, we dated for a while." Marinette started.

“Aha! So, you assume you were in a relationship!” Alya pointed.

Marinette raises an eyebrow. "Everyone here knows that, Alya." She sighed tiredly. "Chloe and I dated for a while at Collège, but we broke up before Lycée."

"What...?!" Alya murmured. "But you hated each other!"

"... They are telling the truth, Alya." Nino looked away, intimidated by Alya's anger. “You and Lila didn't know that because you entered Dupont at the Lycée, but the rest we did. I think Adrien, too, since Chloe and he are childhood friends.”

“Okay, so, you guys dated. But how do you explain this sudden approach now? You obviously hated each other.” Alya insisted.

Chloe snorted impatiently, maybe even a little irritated by Alya's attitude.

“It's called maturing, Alya. Do you know what is this?" The blonde crossed her arms. “Marin and I talked and came to the conclusion that we still like each other enough to become friends. That fighting wasn't getting us anywhere.”

“It still doesn't explain why you are so lovey-dovey. Let's be rational here, this love is at least suspect.” Lila pointed. There was a calculating air around her.

"Friendships are different for everyone, Liela." Marinette replied dryly. “I was never a person to curb my feelings whatever they are. I like to show my friends how much I appreciate them and they do the same for me because that's how friendship is. The support is mutual.”

"But waiting for you to understand this can be too much, since you probably don't know what it is like to have feelings other than pride, envy and dislike." Chloe waved her hand dismissively.

Lila's eyes flashed dangerously, before changing to a painful expression. The crocodile tears running down her cheeks.

“Why are you like that, Chloe? I tried my best to be friends with you, but you seem to hate me!” She sniffed and Alya was next to the girl, trying to comfort her. "If I were that bad, I would have already exposed your plan to get Adrien's attention, since you and Marinette are obsessed with him-" She brought her hands to her mouth, an expression of regret on her face. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm so sorry!" She went back to 'crying'.

Everyone in the room turned to look at Adrien's expression, who seemed lost. Eyes wide, mouth open. He looked in Marinette's direction as if trying to assemble a 500-piece puzzle.

Chloe murmured an 'oh please' tired of all the drama. Marinette didn't seem at all shaken by being exposed in front of the boy she loved. Nathaniel and Sabrina were just enjoying the show, while eating the macaroons that Marinette had brought.

"You don't have to apologize, Lila." Marinette replied calmly, making Lila swallow the fake tears and look at the girl. She realized that her attack had no desired effect. "My feelings for Adrien died the day he asked me to take the high road and let you lie." She looked at the model who looked chastened, before turning back to Lila. "I understood what he meant by that, but the fact that he prioritized your feelings over mine, killed any traces of love I had for him."

Alya gasped in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

Lila's eyes widened in panic. "Is nothing-"

"Oh, that's right." Marinette shook her head condescendingly. “You still believe that everything Lila says is true. Even the most absurd things.”

"Again with that story, Marinette?!" Kim complained angrily. "We know you made this up because you were jealous of Lila."

Nathaniel made a confused sound. "Why would Marinette be jealous of Lila?"

"Because Lila and Adrien are dating!" Alya screamed at the boy's lack of awareness.

“Alya! This was supposed to be a secret!” Lila hid her face with her hands.

"WHAT?!" Adrien got up from the chair surprised by the new information. "We aren’t-"

"... But Marin, haven't you been dating Damian since half of Lycée's first year?" Sabrina asked confused.

Marinette sighed at the whole situation.

"I am. But it seems that people still live in the past.”

"You don't have to lie to us just because you're ashamed, Marinette." Lila said sweetly. "We don't judge anyone here."

Chloe got up from her chair, clapping her hands on the table. "OK, that's it." She picked up the phone and dialed someone, everyone froze thinking she was calling the mayor. “Timo, please come and get us. I'm sick of having to share the same air as a bunch of imbeciles.” The person on the other end seemed to agree, because soon Chloe hung up and picked up her things from the table.

Marinette, Sabrina and Nathaniel soon following the blonde's example.

Sabrina had a thick folder in her hand, where it dropped heavily on Max's table. Chloe, on the other hand, left a pile of paper on Lila's and Nathaniel's on Alya's. Marinette came down the stairs in calm steps. Never failing to face the two girls.

“At Max's desk is a compilation of all Lila's lies. We managed to put this together in less than two hours, as her lies are not really good.” She started. Lila swallowing hard behind Alya. "At Lila's table and yours, orders to cease and desist on behalf of Prince Ali, Jagged, Clara, XY, Bruce Wayne, Style Queen and of course, Ladybug."

"WHAT?!" Lila and Alya shouted together.

Marinette didn't even blink at their reaction.

"I didn't intend to do anything against you, as we are in Lycée's senior year and I would finally be free of your mental games, Lila." She looked at the Italian. “But today you really pissed me off. Because in addition to accusing me of plotting to gain Adrien's attention, you accused me of being unfaithful and that is something I do not admit.”

"Dudete, don't you think you're being a little extreme?" Nino tried to ease the situation with Marinette.

The girl snorted in mockery, going back down the stairs, towards the door. And at the door, there was an unknown and scary-looking boy standing against the wood.

"Think on the bright side Nino: at least this way, your girlfriend will learn to check the facts first, before posting on her failed blog and Lila will learn to keep her lying tongue in her mouth."

Alya snarled in anger.

"And how do we know it is not a trick?"

Marinette stopped beside the boy, her hand resting on his broad chest and turned to Alya.

"Now Alya, just a search on google refutes all the bullshit that Lila has been spitting on you." She raised her eyebrow and the girl soon did as she was told, growing pale with every second she remained looking at the screen. “See how easy it is to check the facts? The internet nowadays, huh. Who knew?” She laughed as if she had told a very funny joke.

Adrien frowned at the girl's behavior, disappointed that she had done that. He thought they were in this together, but apparently, he was alone.

"Marinette-" The blonde tried to speak.

“Oh! I remembered something." She hit her fist against her open palm. "Lila, there are police and immigration agents waiting for you at the school door."

The entire class rose from their seats, still shaken by Marinette's revelations and Markov's confirmation that, yes, Lila was a dirty liar.

"... What?" Lila murmured weakly. It seemed that all the blood had left the Italian's body so pale she was.

"Did you think that willingly helping an emotional terrorist would not have consequences, Lila?" Marinette tilted her head innocently. "Wow. You are really deluded.” She hissed in shock.

The Italian fell without reaction to the floor. She had been defeated at her own game.

"Emotional terrorist...?" Adrien gasped. "Hawkmoth?! Was Lila helping Hawkmoth?”

“Yeap. We have evidence in videos, photos and audios. Not to mention that he admitted earlier today when the heroes invaded his operational base.” Marinette waved excitedly.

Adrien froze at the information. "But, but-"

"How do you know all this?!" Alya demanded.

“Didn't you know, Alya? I am OTS.” Marinette replied cynically, a bad smile on her face. "Ladybug gave an exclusive interview to my blog that must have aired two minutes ago."

Everyone was quick to pick up their tablets or phones to do what Marinette had said.

"You-you-" The journalist stuttered without knowing how to react.

“Now I have to go and let the law enforcement officers do their job. Bye!" She waved as she followed the boy from before, away from the classroom.

It was only when the officers entered the classroom to drag Lila out, that Alya realized what she had done and said.

She was a terrible journalist.

BONUS:

"... Cheers to the miraculous team, Robin, Red Robin, Super Boy and Spoiler!" The group of friends shouted, pounding the crystal glasses against each other.

“Another cheers for Lila Rossi having her ass delivered!” Chloe shouted excitedly, making friends laugh and accompany her.

"Today was a day of victory so let's celebrate as long as we can." Marc said snuggling up to Nathaniel who was almost dozing, despite all the noise.

"You had to see Alya's face when we threw the facts in her face." Sabrina hugged Stephanie, a little drunk on champagne.

"We saw it, Rina." The blonde replied, amused by the girl's behavior. "Timbers installed hidden cameras around the classroom for that purpose."

"What I thank my love for." Chloe told the boy, who was hugging her. "If it weren't for you, we would only relive that moment in memories."

"You're welcome Queenie." Tim kissed the girl's cheek affectionately.

"When are we going to visit Chat Noir, Hime?" Kagami asked Marinette. The two were curled together, with Damian on Marinette's back and Kagami between her legs.

"It would be a good idea for us to do this as soon as possible, so that he doesn't have time to use the ring for something bad." Damian kissed Marinette's head while his arms held Kagami against them. "Who knows what's going on in that boy's head."

Marinette sighed thoughtfully. Half melted between her lovers. "Tonight, we will approach Adrien Agreste."

"I hope he doesn't throw a tantrum." Jon groaned from where he was lying with Luka. "I don't have the patience to deal with him."

"I think he will be too distracted by his mother's return to react negatively." Luka murmured, another who was almost asleep. “Adrien may have a closed mind in some ways, but he is not a bad kid. He just needs someone to guide him on the right path.”

"I hope Emillie is that someone." Nathaniel replied sleepily.

All of them agreeing with the boy.

[tag list]

@saays-bitch @xxmdsxx @nicknnie @iamablinkmarvelarmy @damianette-is-life

#maribat #kagadaminette #ml x dc #chlotim #luka x jon #stephanie x sabrina #ml salt #adrien salt #lila salt #lila bashing #alya salt #nathmarc

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Safe In Your Arms

Day 4, Story #2 is by @whenihaveyouromione

Title: Safe In Your Arms

Author/Artist: firethecanonsfanfiction (also rafa-rafaelx and whenihaveyouromione

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Prompt: cuddling

Summary: Ron and Hermione find each other immediately after the war.

Rating: T?

Trigger Warning(s) (if any): mentions of canon death, war and injury

Thank you to adenei for betaing!

The setting sun over Hogwarts was not its usual beautiful, picturesque image that Hermione had once enjoyed watching. Tonight, it was dark. There was no joy from watching it slowly set. The sky wasn’t an orange, or a purple, or even a dark blue. It was just black. Bleak and black, like how she felt.

She remembered sitting in this very room and peering out at the rolling hills and mountains and the still lake as the sky drifted between oranges and purples, before it eventually settled into a deep, starry blue.

Many nights she’d stayed awake to complete homework, or study, or go over notes to make sure she’d understood what they’d learnt that day.

Given what had just happened, it almost seemed laughable. What she’d give to go back to the simpler times where her biggest concern had been whether adding an extra sentence to an essay would boost her mark up to one hundred and ten percent.

She was tired. No, that was an understatement; she was exhausted. Drained of energy, surviving on the smallest amount of sleep, yet her brain ticked overtime as she relived every moment of the past twenty-four hours. This time yesterday they were sneaking into Hogwarts, readying to commence for the last battle. This time yesterday, she had no idea whether she’d even live to see the sunset tonight.

Many hadn’t, but she had. She might not feel like it right now, but she was living, she was breathing… she was alive.

And so was Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna… they were all safe and well.

She’d come up to Gryffindor Tower without the notice of the others. They were too busy grieving for their fallen brother. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she didn’t see Ron or Harry until the morning, or perhaps the next morning.

After it had happened — after Voldemort had died — Harry had just about collapsed. He didn’t speak, he didn’t move. He just sunk against the wall and stared, speaking to no one.

Many times in the hours that followed, Hermione considered going to him. Did he need comfort? Did he need his friends? But she thought Ron was right. He said he thought Harry just needed time. So, time would be what she’d give him.

She’d spent some of her time helping to fix superficial wounds on students and others, but when she could do no more, she joined the Weasleys. The family huddled together, all with tears rolling down her cheeks. Even Ron, who she’d rarely seen cry before; even he seemed unable to control his emotions.

For a while, she sat with him, holding his hands to offer comfort. But he needed to be with his family, not her. So, she’d come up to the only other place that brought her comfort.

And there she’d stayed, watching as the sun sank lower into the sky until it disappeared all together. Soon, the first full day without Voldemort would be upon them. What were they going to do?

She’d just contemplated the idea of heading up the staircase to return to the bed she’d not slept in for over a year, when the sound of someone climbing through the portrait hole had her turning.

She knew who it was the minute she saw the tuft of red hair peek through the hole, and she couldn’t help but smile a little. It was small, but it was a smile.

“Hey.”

Ron looked utterly defeated. It was the first time she’d looked at him properly. His tears had dried up, but his face was covered in scratches he’d refused to let her heal. Dirt smeared every inch of skin, and his clothes were torn.

A real warrior, she couldn’t help but think. He’d been amazing.

“Hey.” The word came out choked and she realised she hadn’t spoken in hours.

“I wondered where you got to.” Ron seemed to hesitate for a moment before taking the five steps he needed to reach her.

“I just needed some time to myself,” she answered. “To think.”

It seemed to be enough for Ron, for he nodded.

Hermione gazed up at him and their eyes locked for longer than what she’d usually be comfortable with. He’d always looked at her in a way that no one else had; as if he truly understood what she was thinking and feeling. He didn’t always have the ability to express that understanding in a dignified way, which had frustrated her for years, but she knew that he got her. Better than most, anyway.

And maybe she understood him, too, because she knew what was going through his mind as they looked at each other. In the midst of all that had happened, with everything that had unfolded over the past twenty-four hours, she’d kissed him.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, something that she really hadn’t put much thought into, but something she didn’t regret. She’d wanted to do it for longer than she cared to admit to herself, and it had felt like the right time. If one of them were to die that night, at least they’d die knowing how the other felt.

Finally.

Staring at him with such intensity made her want to kiss him again. But she refrained, knowing that both of them smelt of blood and death. Nor did either of them probably have the energy to so much as bring their faces close enough to each other to actually do it.

It was Ron who broke the gaze, turning to the window she’d been looking out before he’d found her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“No.” It was the honest answer, but one he’d understand.

“Neither.”

Hermione offered her hand to him, and he took it. She smiled, and he returned it, though it was pained. “I’m so sorry about Fred,” she whispered. “I can’t believe —”

“Yeah… yeah.” He squeezed her hand, and then he tugged on it lightly. He indicated the armchairs by the fireplace that she, Ron and Harry had spent much of their time sitting in. She followed him willingly, both of them somehow managing to squeeze onto one.

She was rudely aware of how poorly he smelled, and then felt shameful over the fact that she must have been the same.

But he didn’t seem to mind, for he placed an arm across her shoulders, drawing her to him. Her head fell against his shoulder and there they stayed. Hermione didn’t know for how long, but she was woken to sunlight and the feel of calloused fingers running through her hair. And she was very, very warm.

Blinking, she lifted her head slowly. It was still just the two of them. Had anyone else come in? Were they in the dormitories? Or had she and Ron been alone the whole time, asleep and comforted by each other?

It then occurred to her how easily she’d fallen asleep in his arms. She’d laid her head against his shoulder and she’d been out… just like that. How safe she felt. How… loved.

She blushed at the thought, which seemed silly given all that had happened between them.

“Did you sleep?” she asked quietly, looking at him.

He nodded. “Yeah. A little.” He was looking at her in that way again. Like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. Was now even the right time to talk about… them? It seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. They had plenty of time to talk about them.

But all she could think about was how easy it had been to fall asleep beside him, and how she didn’t want to ever lose that feeling.

She reached a hand to his cheek, running her fingers gently down it, feeling every bump, every scratch, every bit of dried blood. And her heart swelled with love for him. She loved him so very much, and wasn’t now more important than ever to be with those that you loved… and who loved you?

Ron seemed to be thinking the same, for he lowered his face towards hers. She allowed his dry and chapped lips to brush against hers for a few moments before she kissed him back. His grip on her tightened, his free hand running up the side of her face, entangling into her hair.

There wasn’t as much desperation this time. No fear that they might die, no thrill of the first kiss.

It was better.

When they broke away, slightly breathless, Hermione couldn’t help it. She laughed, and so did he. It would take a long time to heal from this, but at least she had one small ounce of happiness to take with her. One that filled a big piece of her heart.

She settled back against his shoulder and he returned to stroking her hair. Soon, this peacefulness would disappear. Soon, they’d have to return to a reality that was far darker than the one that was on this armchair. But for now, this numbed all the pain. And it was what they both needed.

As she closed her eyes once again, feeling herself drifting into another peaceful sleep entangled in his arms, she heard him murmur against her.

“Don’t let this be temporary, Hermione. I need you. I love you.”

She was too tired to respond, but when she woke again, she’d tell him that she needed him, too.

And she’d tell him that she loved him.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione #tw: canon death #tw: mentions of war #tw:injury

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padfoot-and-prongsie · 3 years

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Sneaking Around || Fred Weasley

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 4.3k

Requested: No, but feel free to send some in!

Summary: Your Slytherin friends would never approve of your boyfriend, but then again, who said they had to know?

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, Umbridge, Slytherins being bullies, sexual innuendos

Disclaimer: I did not make this gif, credit to the lovely person who did

A/N: School has certainly kept me busy, but this is finally up! This fic was written for @theweasleysredhair 9k writing contest with the trope “secretly dating” and the prompt “I could kiss you write now”. I hope ya’ll like it <3

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS ARE JUST FINE :)

The throng of students going back to the school was filled with loud chatter over the results of the Quidditch match, but you weren’t joining in. No, instead you were frantically scanning the crowds the moment you stepped out of the locker room, hoping you could catch a glimpse of red hair.

Montague was beside you, a sickly grin on his face despite the loss. In his and Malfoy’s opinions, the match had been a success, as last they saw George Weasley and Harry Potter they had all but been dragged off the pitch by McGonagall.

“Try to aim a little better next time, L/N,” Montague said. “With Weasley defending the goal it shouldn’t be that difficult to score points.”

“Well tell Goyle to get a bit more accurate,” you snapped back. “I can’t do anything with fucking Spinnet on me the whole time.”

Though it hurt to spit that out, Montague didn’t notice. None of them ever did. You really would deserve an award for the incredible acting you had done over the past year.

Montague made a face. “There’s only so much I can do with that oaf. Just step it up, L/N.”

You mock saluted him as he walked away, before quickly restarting your search for the all to familiar Weasley.

But once more you were stopped short when Malfoy caught up to you on the grass path back to the school.

He was quietly humming Weasley is Our King under his breath, an action that made you desperately want to punch him in the face. He already had a wad of cotton shoved up his nose from the last person who did that, and you could see some light bruises beginning to form on his arms. If he was in pain, he didn’t show it, though you had a feeling he would have the act ready for dinner that night.

“I’m looking to add some new verses to the song, any ideas?” he asked, falling into step beside you.

You shrugged hoping your shoulders weren’t as tense as they felt. If he had asked you last year you would have had a long string of words to call the Weasley family, but now you could hardly bring yourself to even hum the tune.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered, hoping he would get off your back.

Draco didn’t take the hint. “I need some rhymes for ugly and loser,” he said, a sadistic smirk on his face as he brought up the words that had sent Potter and George over the edge.

“How about you’re a real loser so talking to you is quite a snoozer,” you muttered, “and I know you’re already to begin with quite ugly, but you need to upgrade your fangirls, they’re a little to fugly,” you finished, eyeing Parkinson a few yards away who was bouncing up and down on her toes as she waited for Draco.

“Fuck you,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “You're terrible help, you know that right?”

You ignored him, not even bothering to look back as he stepped off towards where Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle were waiting. Merlin you hated Draco Malfoy and tried to make that plenty obvious when he was around, but for some reason he kept coming back. At least you managed to take a few jabs at his ego. You were rather pleased with your little poem, if you did say so yourself.

You were all the way up to the castle when a small paper bird fluttered over to you, it’s delicate wings flapping wildly as it battled the wind. It landed gracefully on your palm, neatly unfolding itself to reveal the scrawled out message inside.

7th floor, back corridor, behind the tapestry of the One Eyed Witch

8 o'clock

It wasn’t signed but by now you were well familiar with the messy handwriting and a smile lit your face as you thought of the Weasley you had been looking for earlier. Glancing quickly over your shoulder to make sure Draco and his goons were far enough away, you hastily shoved the parchment in your pocket and continued on your way.

By now you were well used to the odd meeting choices, the cramped alcoves under the stairs and the dusty long forgotten classrooms. Yet as unpleasant as they could be sometimes, the exhilaration of sneaking around, the thrill of not getting caught, left your heart racing.

You could hardly focus during dinner that night, trying your best not to send too many glances over to the Gryffindor table. The red and gold were all in different stages of gloom, their eyes dull and smiles non-existent ever since they heard the recent news about the state of some of their best quidditch players. Potter, George, and Fred had both been banned for life on Umbridge’s orders, which had led to a buzz of glee around the Slytherin table as they gossiped excitedly over the news.

You did your best to sound just as thrilled, laughing over the Gryffindor’s bad fortune, pitying Malfoy when he dramatically limped over to the table, and snickering with the rest of them as Pansy and Draco worked on more verses to their song. But anyone who looked close enough could see the white of your knuckles as you gripped your glass of pumpkin juice, they way you had to restrain yourself from crushing the glass as they laughed at the expense of the Weasley family.

By 8 o’clock you were so fed up with the Slytherins that you were more than happy to flee from the common room, pounding up the many flights of stairs to reach the seventh floor.

You followed the instructions you had been given, navigating your way through the halls until you found the large tapestry that had been mentioned.

You slowly pulled it aside and immediately got hit by the strong stench of dust and mold. But you didn’t care about the smell, for almost instantly a strong pair of arms were wrapped around you and let out a giggle as you were spun around, before pressing a kiss to Fred’s lips.

Fred Weasley was grinning back at you, the light in his eyes that had been lost at dinner back as he took in your smiling face.

He kissed you again hard, pouring all his frustration and stress that had built up in the last week into it as his mouth moved roughly against yours.

When you pulled back for air, you were finally able to take him in. His cheeks were flushed red, and his hair had already taken on a tousled appearance from your fingers running through it. Fred’s eyes were bright with happiness as he looked back at you, his lips quirked up in the Fred Weasley smile you loved so much. But as you glanced down, you could make out the subtle hue of bruises forming on his arms from where Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had been gripping on to him for dear life to prevent him from attacking Draco just hours earlier.

Fred followed your gaze. “I got banned you know,” he finally said, the sadness creeping back into his eyes.

“Yeah, I heard,” you replied downheartedly.

“I didn’t even do anything to that prat,” Fred continued. “If I knew that hag would ban me anyway I would have punched every inch of Malfoy’s fucking body.”

You could see the anger spike in his eyes and you quickly placed a hand on his chest.

“Calm down, Freddie,” you said softly, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. “I should have made them stop,” you whispered, “all I did was sit there and watch, I feel horrible.”

“Don’t apologize love, there’s nothing you could have done without anyone getting suspicious.” Fred said, absently running his hand through your hair.

“Suspicious of us?” you laughed. “I think we do a rather good job if I do say so myself.”

Fred’s smile returned. “Yes we are pretty secretive,” his lips quirk into a smirk and he pressed his mouth against yours. “Abandoned classrooms, ducking into alcoves,” he whispered against your lips. “There’s something sexy-” at that word his hands slipped lower, giving your bottom a squeeze “- about sneaking around.”

“Are you groping my ass?” you asked, humor dancing in your eyes.

Fred’s smirk widened and he placed another kiss on your lips. “What would you do if I was?”

“I’d tell you to stop wasting your time talking when you could have me up against that wall,” you whispered, biting your lip.

Fred’s eyes darkened in lust. “You really are little Slytherin, so coy at getting what you want.”

You smirked. “What can I say? That Sorting Hat picked right.”

“It sure did,” Fred agreed huskily, walking you back towards the wall.

As your body pressed against the stone you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and dragging his mouth down to meet yours.

Needless to say, you and Fred snuck out forty five minutes later, well passed curfew and both looking rather disheveled.

“Don’t get caught going back,” Fred whispered, glancing both ways down the hall.

“I won’t,” you assured him. “Besides, if I do Umbridge will probably get me out of it, she seems to have taken a liking in me.”

You gave him a pointed look. “It’s you I’m worried about, one bad step and she’ll expel you.”

Fred shrugged. “I’ve stopped worrying about that ever since she came to town.”

You sighed. “Just don’t do anything stupid yet, okay?”

“Okay okay,” Fred agreed grinning. “Just for you I won't.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. “I’ll see you later.”

Fred pulled you in to kiss you once more, then let you go, being sure you were well down the corridor before he himself snuck off in the other direction.

You managed to make it back to the Slytherin common room undetected, only running into Mrs. Norris, who you stunned, then slipped by before she came to. The Slytherin common room was still bright with life at 9 oclock on a Saturday night, but no one questioned you when you walked in. Most students had snuck out past curfew their fare share of times, so they wrote you off as being no different then themselves

Doing your best to hide the grin on your face that usually came after being with Fred, you slipped upstairs to the girl’s dorms. Only one of your roommates was there, sorting through her trunk, but after exchanging pleasantries she left to go downstairs.

Falling onto your bed, you let out a sigh, the smile finally getting to appear on your face. Merlin this boy was going to be the death of you.

You had met Fred at the beginning last year after you both landed yourselves a week's worth of detention with McGonagall. At the time you had thought the redhead was the biggest prick you knew, and in turn, he saw you as a stuck up brat. Somehow though, amidst trophy cleaning, quiz grading, and classroom organizing, you had taken a liking to him. There was something about that easy smile and stupid sense of humor that got to you, and in turn, your quick wit and dry sarcasm had left him smitten.

It had been over a week after your time together in detention when you had seen Fred again, this time when he had come up behind you during passing time and, with a firm grip on your wrist, proceeded to pull you behind a statue in one of the more quiet corridors of Hogwarts.

“What the hell are you doing Weasley!” you had hissed, frantically looking around to make sure no one was near.

Instead of answering, Fred had gently placed his hands on either side of your face, fixing you with an intense gaze that left your heart racing.

“What are you doing?” you had whispered again softly, unconsciously stepping closer to him.

“For some idiotic reason, I can’t stop thinking about you,” Fred had said.

“Really?” you’d breathed, your heart starting to pound more fiercely.

“And for some even more idiotic reason,” Fred had continued. “I really want to know what it’s like to kiss you.”

The speed of your racing heart increased and you unconsciously found yourself glancing at his lips

Fred noticed, a smirk spreading across his mouth. In one flourish of motion you were pressed against his chest with his lips only inches from yours.

“But our houses,” you had whispered, looking up at his dark eyes.

A smirk had slowly spread across Fred’s face. “Who says anyone has to know?”

And then he had kissed you, hard, and from that moment forward you had completely and utterly fallen for Fred Weasley.

“Professor Umbridge wants to see you in her office,” a voice behind you said, causing you to jump violently, dropping the book you had been reading.

Turning in annoyance, you glared at Draco, who was behind you snickering.

“Prick,” you muttered under your breath, reaching down to pick up your book with the intention of continuing it.

“She really does want to see you,” Draco said.

Instantly you froze, your mind drifting to Fred.

“Why?” you managed to squeak out.

Draco gave you a suspicious look. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “She wanted me to round up a good lot of us. Your name was on the list.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay then,” you said, getting up from the couch, your demeanor returning to normal again. “Her office?”

Draco nodded. “I have to go tell Zabini and Montague, but I’ll meet you up there.”

“Sounds good,” you responded, stepping past him to leave the common room.

When you reached the office of Professor Umbridge, you were rather surprised to find its door ajar. Tentatively pushing it open, you were greeted by an extremely pink room and at least fifteen other Slytherins looking just as confused as you were.

“Ahh, Ms. L/N, thank you for coming,” said a high pitched voice that made your blood boil.

“Of course Professor. Thank you for inviting me,” you replied, a fake smile on your face.

She let out a little giggle. “Oh do I have a treat for you.”

She quickly ushered you over to stand with the rest of the group, then, once Draco showed up with the rest of the recruits, quickly clapped her hands for attention.

“I have received some shocking news,” she started, a grave look on her face. “It seems Harry Potter has formed a club. A club which wasn’t approved by me, and a club to teach others illegal and dangerous magic.” She paused dramatically.

For effect, you raised your eyebrows in surprise, though inside you were suddenly filled with a deep sense of dread. Anything Potter was involved with had a high chance Fred would be there too.

“Now, from a source we have learned where these meetings are being held, and it turns out there is one tonight. You all have been chosen by me to come stop this atrocity and give proper punishment to those involved.” Professor Umbridge's sickly smile widened. “Your services will be greatly rewarded by the minister himself.”

Around you, you could feel the Slytherins buzz in excitement, their smiles widening at a chance to get the Gryffindor's into trouble. Your smile was equally wide, but inside your nerves were piling up.

“They’re on the seventh floor, in the left corridor, across the painting of Barnabas the Barmy,” she said, jumping up and down on her stubby legs, a look of glee in her eyes. “Go catch them.”

There was a flourish of movement as everyone made for the door, pushing up the stairs and trying to be the first to catch the wrongdoers. You too were pushing to the front, but not because you wanted recognition from the ministry, but because you desperately wanted to be the one to catch Fred in hopes that you could find a way to get him out unscathed.

As you reached the seventh floor, it seemed the Gryffindors had been given a heads up, as swarms of people were running out of a doorway you had never seen before. Upon closer observation, you realized that there were far more than a few Gryffindors, as Umbridge had suggested, but in fact there were more than fifty people from a wide range of houses sprinting down the hall.

“Get them!” Umbridge shrieked from behind you, and you instantly took off, shoving your way through the chaos.

Fred and George ran from the Room of Requirement, for once not joking about their predicament. Behind them, Harry was quickly running around, trying to usher everyone out as a mob of Slytherins filled the corridor.

Together with George, Fred ducked down one of the side corridors, hoping he could make it to the boys bathroom that was only another turn away.

But before he knew it, his legs locked together and he tumbled to the floor, quickly shouting at George to run as he tried to squirm away from his captor.

Fred felt a hand grip tightly to his shoulder, pulling him up from the floor as another jinx whizzed by him towards his brother. George managed to duck it, but from behind Fred, Montague came running by, his wand in hand as he chased the other redheaded twin.

Fred reached for his wand to hex the Slytherin, but someone behind him got to it first, shooting a jinx that caused Montague to stiffen up, before falling face first on the floor.

The grip on Fred tightened, and he felt the spell on his legs release as he was suddenly able to walk as his captor pulled him down the other hallway.

Fred, sensing an opportunity, kicked his left leg back, trying to throw the Slytherin off balance, but they easily dodged it, dancing out of the way of his weak attempt at escaping.

“Merlin Freddie, that’s the thanks I get?” they asked, and Fred quickly turned in surprise to see you looking at him in amusement, a smirk playing at your lips.

“Love?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to save your arse,” you replied, a slight grin on your face.

Fred looked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time. “Damn that was so hot,” he breathed, “I could kiss you right now.”

Your heart gave a little flutter, but you tried to keep your expression neutral. “Let’s put a pause on that for right now,” you said, as Ernie McMillan ran by with Theodore Nott hot on his heels.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Fred grinned.

You rolled your eyes, then glanced around the hallway, but amidst all the chaos you hoped nobody had noticed your quick exchange.

“Just do me a favor and look pissed off and try to put up a bit of a fight,” you instructed. “I know a place where we can hide.”

Fred didn’t respond, instead quickly reverting his expression to one of anger as he pretended to pull away from your hold, though making sure he didn’t do so hard enough that you couldn’t drag him down the corridor.

Once you were out of sight of the madness of the main hall, you pulled Fred in after you into one of the secret passageways he had shown you last year. It was cramped and not well lit, but the tunnel was suited well enough for the two of you to stay in until the corridors cleared.

“Were you the one who hexed me back there?” Fred asked the instant the passage was sealed.

You shrugged. “I had to make it look convincing.”

“But why? Couldn’t you have just let us run off?” Fred pressed.

“Crabbe and Goyle had circled around to block that end, I couldn’t risk you going that way,” you replied.

“George went that way though,” Fred said, his eyes filled with concern for his brother.

You sighed. “There wasn’t much I could do in the moment,” you admitted, “I was more focused on you. I did jinx Montague for him, so hopefully that gave him enough of a head start,” you added with a laugh.

Fred grinned. “That was a rather good one.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” you said, amusement dancing in your eyes. “It’s probably the highlight of my year.”

Fred put on a face of mock hurt. “You mean I’m not the highlight of your year?” he asked dramatically.

You rolled your eyes. “You make a close second,” you teased.

A smirk creeped across Fred’s face and he suddenly pulled you up against his chest, his lips brushing against yours.

“Let’s see if I can get myself into first,” he said cockily.

It wasn’t until after the Easter holidays when you saw Fred again, and this time, due to a new Educational Degree (number twenty nine if you were being exact) you had a silver I hooked to your robes and about the same amount of power as the teachers.

“How’s that Inquisitorial Squad going for you?” Fred asked, the moment you stepped into your latest meeting space.

“It’s so stupid,” you complained rolling your eyes. “It just inflates Malfoy’s head more than it already is and gives Slytherins a chance to pick on everyone.”

Fred wore an amused smile on his face. “It seems you’re taking advantage of this new found power too,” he commented lazily.

“Zacharias Smith is a twat and everyone knows it, so I don’t particularly care how many points I dock him,” you stated bluntly.

Fred snorted at your response. “Bloody hell I love that about you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Love what?”

Fred laughed, pulling you towards him so he could kiss you once on the lips.

“How when somebody pisses you off you are so determined about getting back at them,” he finally said.

“Most people say it’s one of my worst traits,” you managed to get out as Fred’s lips began attacking your neck.

“It’s actually rather adorable,” Fred hummed against your skin.

“Fred?” you asked quietly, a thought suddenly popping into your head.

“Yes love?”

“Was there something you needed to talk to me about?”

Fred detached himself from your neck to properly look at you.

“It’s just that you said you wanted to see me and we only just got back two hours ago,” you stuttered quickly, suddenly feeling you had gotten the wrong idea. “Not that of course this isn’t a good reason,” you motioned between the two of you.

A slight smile spread across Fred’s lips. “Your two observant for your own good,” he said jokingly.

“What is it then, what’s wrong?” you asked, every possible reason filling your mind.

“Nothings wrong,” Fred quickly reassured you. “But you told be not to do anything stupid yet at the beginning of the year,” he paused, “that ‘yet’ has finally come.”

Your eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

“Harry needs some help, so George and I offered ours, though I doubt we’ll get through this without being expelled,” he said, pausing to gage your reaction.

Your eyebrows had shot up and your jaw dropped. “What?! Why would you do that?”

“Because love, George and I don’t see the need to continue our education-”

“But what about-” you tried to interrupt.

Fred held up his index finger. “Just give me a minute to explain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, though your face still held a look of concern.

“We bought a shop,” Fred continued, “Harry gave us his Triwizard winnings so we bought one in Diagon Alley. You’re the first person that knows, and well, we were going to wait until after this school year but now with Dumbledore gone and that hag taking over the school, you’re the only reason left for me to stay.”

Fred looked you in the eyes. “That’s why I had to ask, can I do one last stupid thing? I am so in love with you Y/N, and you know that and if you want me to stay I will, and I promise nothing will change. I’ll be happy either way because I have you. I just knew I could never leave you here without first asking if you would be okay.”

A swell of love for the boy sitting across from you filled your chest and the concern had left your face. In its place, a single tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at the boy who had just told you he would leave all his dreams behind for you.

“Of course you can go Fred, I could never hold you back from that,” you said, letting him pull you against his chest. “But what about-” you looked up at him “-what about us?”

Fred grinned, kissing you once on the lips. “We’ll get to finally be together,” he answered softly. “There’s a flat above the shop, George has his space, we’ll have ours.”

“But George doesn’t know about us,” you protested. “What if he doesn’t-”

Fred cut you off by placing another kiss on your mouth. “If I have to marry you with only the two of us and the official at the service, then that would be enough. I don’t care about what he thinks about you and me.”

“Marrying me?” you whispered.

Fred interlaced his hand with yours. “The moment you graduate if you want love. Then we’ll never have to be apart for more than a second.”

You looped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard. “I love you so much Fred Weasley,” you whispered against his lips.

“And I love you a thousand times more,” he replied, his mouth barely leaving yours.

Fred tugged your thighs and you jumped up, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist.

“Now,” Fred said, and you could feel his smirk against your lips. “Why don’t we make this a night to remember.”

Taglist: Ask to be added! @missmulti @girl-next-door-writes @28cnn @thedarlinghufflepuff @rocket-svt

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spade-riddles · 3 years

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Submission: Adjusting expectations

Okay, guys. Wading in here where it’s possible no-one wants me, but … here goes.

We - Kaylors - are in a hard place right now. People feel hurt, they feel hopeless. They feel like they were led on by the likes of Spade. I’m not here to invalidate any of the feelings that come from seeing Karlie and Taylor play out this charade.

But I think we (collectively, as a fandom) need to take a breath and ask if any of this is really as bad or unfixable as we think it is. Because, for me, the recent stunting is hard to stomach but not truly surprising. On some level this is how I expected Karlie and Taylor to handle both the birth of the baby and the launch of the rerecorded albums. As much I wanted to believe in the idea of spring breaking loose and bringing with it a fervent revolution … I could see the pieces still in play on the board and I doubted it was coming.

I think the problem is that there was a split between the optimist and pragmatist sides of the fandom, over the last year or so. To be clear - I’m not judging the optimist side of the fandom. Not at all. Taylor has pulled wildcard moves before, and emotions run so high in all this, especially with a baby involved now, that I don’t blame people for wanting to believe the best. But it reached a stage where some of the things people were trying to talk themselves into were just wildly unrealistic. And when that happens, of course you’re going to get hurt. It’s inevitable.

But let’s really look at this for a second. We should have known that neither Karlie nor Taylor was going to be shaving her beard in March. Ditching Jerk right after or just before the birth would have been too soon for Karlie. It’s not unusual for a celeb marriage to fizzle out within a year of the birth, but before the baby even arrives? That would be weird, and would draw attention just when it seems Kaylor don’t want it. They just had a baby. That’s an adjustment in itself, and Karlie is suffering enough social media hate on top of that. I wouldn’t blame her for just wanting to take a break and lie low during this difficult time. And unfortunately, for Karlie, that means maintaining the status quo of the situation she put herself in with Jerk. She may be doing the bare minimum to maintain it, but if she wants to avoid attention, she has to make it seem like everything between her and her “husband” is normal. And that she’s trying to make it work, which I believe will be important later. Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships.

Toe wasn’t going anywhere either. Taylor had relied on him so heavily during the promotion of Folklore, with the William Bowery narrative, that she was almost backed into a corner. She had to give some allusion to his air quotes “creative input” and their so-called happy relationship, or her failure to do so would have become the story and overshadowed her night. The headlines would have either been break-up speculation or complaints that she didn’t give him his due. We think the cutesy coverage after she named him in her acceptance speech was bad, but negative headlines have a far longer shelf life and can take on a life of their own. They would have been worse. Whatever we might think of Taylor’s actions, Folklore is one of her best albums and she deserved to have her night.

So, on to the announcement of the birth. This is a tricky one, and again, I completely understand why people reacted so badly against it. It was everything we as a fandom said we didn’t want. It was Jerk using the baby for personal good PR. But I have to be honest here. I always thought we were kidding ourselves believing he would NEVER be seen with the baby or implied to be the father. I do believe Karlie is doing her damnedest to minimize the digital footprint of his involvement and keep her actual baby out of it. But he was always going to get to bask in the glow of playing daddy for a while. It’s the trade off Kaylor made when they used him to shore up their closet.

This is also why I increasingly suspect the timing of the announcement got the green light from Kaylor too. If Jerk was always going to be assumed to be the father of Karlie’s baby, then there was always going to have to be a birth announcement that incorporated him somehow - unless the girls were ready to answer awkward questions, and it doesn’t seem like we’re there yet. So the best way to minimize the damage is to have his moment of glory overshadowed by a bigger win for Taylor. It worked pretty well actually. Even on Kaylor blogs the stunt was mostly buried by Taylor content.

I know a lot of fans feel gaslit by all the hints, but I do think there’s a possibility Taylor really didn’t grasp how hurt Kaylors would be. From her perspective, she “fed” fans three times over that night. She gave us a beautiful performance, a gorgeous red carpet moment, and a win to celebrate. I think it’s possible she really didn’t realize the double whammy of stunting that night would make it all feel worthless for many.

Taylor is in an awkward position. As a consequence of Kaylor retreating into the closet, the support base for them has shrunk. (When I use the words “Kaylor fandom”, I refer to this support base.) I would say Kaylor fandom consists of two parts. There is a silent portion, who observe events and comment anonymously, but don’t say anything “on main”. And then there are the small corps of true believers, who think Karlie and Taylor are still together and the baby is theirs. This latter group do most of the actual talking about Kaylor, but they tend to be pretty battle-hardened. They’ve been around for years, they never believe any of the stunts and their capacity to be hurt by them is, as a result, pretty limited. These Kaylors criticize sometimes, but they tend to fall back in line eventually and mostly adopt a “let’s wait and see how this all shakes out” approach. The problem is that I would say these “chilled” Kaylors are the minority. For their own sanity they curate their blog experience and often don’t post the more negative anons they get. Which is fine, but if you were looking at it from the outside, I could see how it might create an impression that the fandom as a whole can roll with the punches. And for a lot of the silent majority, that’s not the case.

But again, I can see how Taylor might not necessarily know that. She went quiet after the Grammys, when I might have expected more celebratory posts from her. If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t expect the backlash. I’m especially noticing a backlash against her for allowing Karlie to take so many hits while her own reputation has never been better. And I can’t defend her on that one, except to say I hope she has a plan. But I understand where people are coming from when they say the songs aren’t enough and actions speak louder than words. It’s tough to watch.

Still, we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming. We should have known Jerk wasn’t going to be out of the picture immediately after the birth. This is one of those things nobody likes, but maybe we all just have to be patient on. I don’t see Karlie busting out of the closet to admit her marriage was a fake, or testifying to the FBI. I think she’ll just let her marriage quietly fall apart, as many real marriages did during the pandemic. And for that to work, she needs to make it look like didn’t throw away a family unit lightly. Hence the “I tried” post, the social media break, and the suggestions of spending time with Jerk’s family. All of this can be spun later into a narrative of Karlie having tried to make it work, only to never really be accepted. The hate online affected her mental health and she gradually realized how unhappy she’d become and decided she needed to break free and find her old self again for her baby’s sake. This is the most likely narrative for Karlie’s freedom and it’s one that could work - but it’s going to take time to unfold. Personally, I’m giving it a year. If we don’t see a separation by then, and definitive moves to a reunited Kaylor, I’ll be bowing out. I’ll still know what I believe the truth to be, but I won’t see the need to devote my energy to defending it. ,

Meanwhile, the masters rerecords are about to be released, and Taylor has invested a lot in their success. Because of this, I can’t envision her coming out until at least the big three (Fearless, 1989, and Red) have dropped. She might drop hints, but I don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Even the order of the album releases seems to confirm this. She’s breaking out the big guns first.

I’ve seen people speculate that because Rep can’t be rerecorded until 2022, Taylor will hold off on any coming out until then. And I’m not so sure of that. Yes, people listening to the album for clues would give Scott and Scooter money, but if we’re being honest, a fair amount of people are probably listening to those albums already, regardless of the drama. Those sleazeballs are profiting from Rep, full stop. But if Taylor profits more, from her bigger albums, she still wins. And she can still put out a Taylor’s version of Rep with vault tracks and collabs, to seduce people away from the Big Machine version in early 2022. Honestly, I think there’s a good chance Taylor would consider this is a worthwhile trade-off anyway, if it meant she got to live a more open life with Karlie - and most crucially, begin to repair Karlie’s reputation. As children get older and the world begins to leave the pandemic behind, it becomes harder to live behind closed doors. I guess we’ll find out how Taylor finds the reality of such a life, and what she considers worth sacrificing to step away from it.

All this to say: I can’t predict the future more than anyone else, but I don’t think the situation we’re in now is irreparable, and if we’re being really objective, I don’t think it’s even surprising. I do think Taylor should give us something, if she wants to keep us around. No-one can live on a complete absence of hope, and as I’ve stated, letting the fandom dwindle to this extent has its own dangers. But I think we also need to keep our time frames realistic, even if it means rejecting lifelines like the Spade riddles. We shouldn’t expect Karlie to be free of Jerk for around a year, and we shouldn’t expect Taylor to do anything much beyond general music promo until at least the big three have dropped. Sucks to say it, I know. But at least this way we won’t be disappointed, and if Kaylor do pull a wild card and move towards freedom, we can be pleasantly surprised.

Just my two cents.

___________________

Well written and fair arguments on our reactions and expectations. I had typed up more, but I will let others post their comments before I chime in.

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stardustprompts · 3 years

Text

the dragon republic - r.f kuang sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !! some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw : drugs , suicide mention , illness , addiction , death , murder , nsfw , language

‘I’m telling you, you’re not in any state to be useful.’

‘get out of bed and stop being such a brat.

‘you will learn to control yourself, and you will start protecting them.’

‘you think you’re on the brink of madness, you think that this moment is going to be when you finally snap, but it’s not.’

‘eventually you learn to exist on the precipice of insanity.’

‘it should have been you. you should have died.’

‘revolution is fine in theory. but nobody wants to die.’

‘you can stop pretending to be my friend, because I know that’s all you came for.’

‘you’re dead. I saw you die.’

‘all you want is to get your revenge. but you could be so much more. do so much more. you could change history.’

‘can’t I be happy? I’ve missed you.’

‘of course you’re in on this madness. what did I expect?’

‘you’re frightened all the time. you think everyone’s out to get you, and you want them to be out to get you because then that’ll give you an excuse to hurt them.’

‘fuck your pain.’

‘you asked how large my sorrow is, and I answered, like a river in spring flowing east.’

‘if you just keep breathing, I’ll tell you a story.’

‘you spend your whole life chasing after some illusion you think is real, only to realize you’re a damned fool, and that if you reach any further, you’ll drown.’

‘you don’t have to suffer alone, you know.’

‘you’re so strong. whatever you’re seeing, whatever you’re feeling, it’s not as strong as you are.’

‘she thinks it’s funny to watch her prey squirm before she kills it.’

‘she knows what drives men, and she takes their deepest desire and makes them believe that she is the only thing that can give it to them.’

‘I don’t need your fake sympathy.’

‘I know nothing. I help no one. let’s leave it at that, shall we?’

‘you are my greatest weapon. do not disappoint.’

‘you’ve been feeling the pull, haven’t you? it’s consuming you. your mind is not your own.’

‘does it ever bother you? that you are only a pale imitation of ____?’

‘are you insane? you want to live, you fucking hide.’

‘I know you’ll fight her to the end. but I hope you realize you’re going to go mad trying.’

‘I would never lie to you.’

‘I mean, sometimes I think maybe I can stop, maybe I can just run away. but what I’ve seen—-what I’ve done—- I can’t come back from that.’

‘when you have the power that you do, your life is not your own.’

‘people will seek to use you or destroy you.’

‘you can’t do it alone. I’m all you got. you have to trust me.’

‘you don’t know how to fix me, do you? you never did.’

‘good men are dead because of you. I hope you know.’

‘I saw how you were hurting. that looked like torture. I thought you might be relieved.’

‘you’re always talking about ____ like he was some great hero. but he wasn’t.’

‘I’d die before I let anyone hurt you’

‘you can’t keep me safe, so you might as well let me fight.’

‘I like you better. aren’t you flattered?’

‘how does it feel getting a taste of your own medicine?’

‘it’s like I’m frozen in one moment. and no one knows it because everyone else moved on except me.’

‘I can’t figure out who’s right or wrong, and I’m the smart one, I’m always supposed to have the right answer, but I don’t.’

‘I just wanted it to be over. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want to hurt them, not really, I just wanted it to end.’

‘I suppose it’s not easy going to war against friends.’

‘___ made her choice. she just happened to be dead fucking wrong.’

‘he’s still grieving. and there’s nothing you can do to make that hurt less.’

‘you know what your problem is? you have no impulse control. absolutely zero. none.’

‘you have to fight for something, you can’t just—just live your life like a fucking coward.’

‘it’s not about who you are, it’s about how they see you. and once you’re mud in this country, you’re always mud.’

‘I stuck with you because we thought we’d stay together. we’re always supposed to be together.’

‘it sounds like you’re saying that people have to die for progress.’

‘war’s different when you’re not struggling for survival.’

‘your secret is safe from ___, if that what you’re asking. but I don’t understand why you’re lying to me.’

‘I’m not stupid. I know what I saw.’

‘don’t sentence us to death just because you’ve been humiliated.’

‘she’s telling the truth. you’re just not listening because you’re terrified that someone else is right.’

‘cant give orders for shit, but you love taking them.’

‘I realized that he’d gone crazy and that something had broken and that that path was just going to lead to his death.’

‘did you think he’d fall in love with you if you just did what he asked?’

‘don’t lie to me. I know what you’ve done.’

‘we / I don’t need your permission to exist.’

‘you’re little children, grasping in a void that you don’t understand for toys that don’t belong to you.’

‘he dared to threaten us / me. he deserved what he got.’

‘would a simple thank-you suffice? or did you also want a hug?’

‘you think it makes you strong, but it’s going to destroy you.’

‘I didn’t think it was worth scaring you when I couldn’t do anything about it.’

‘you weren’t going to tell me I was going mad!’

‘she promises you peace when you know you ought to be fighting a war. that’s worse.’

‘no one has to die. you can have everything back. everyone. no one has to go.’

‘he only has as much power as you give him.’

‘you can tell me everything I hate about myself, but I already know. you can’t say anything to hurt me more.’

‘I loved an idea of you. I was infatuated with you. I wanted to be you.’

‘I loved you too. do you believe that?’

‘it’s alright to cry. I know what you saw.’

‘our dead don’t leave us. they’ll haunt you as long as you let them.’

‘that boy is a disease on your mind. forget him.’

‘he was brilliant. he was different. you’d have never met anyone like him.’

‘this is why we are polite to our allies.’

‘we’re soldiers. we’re always about to die.’

‘I want it more than anything. but I can’t ask you to do this for me.’

‘you are going to kill him. and then nothing will save you.’

‘if you love him, then you can trust yourself to protect him.’

‘you have the same eyes. angry. desperate. you’ve seen too much. you hate too much.’

‘all we have is this story unfolding, and in the script of this world, nothing’s going to bring ___ back to life.’

‘I can’t look at you and not see him.’

‘we’re fighting for something good. something worth fighting for.’

‘I have to do this. otherwise I have nothing.’

‘i’m going to tell you a story. I want you to just listen. and I want you to believe me. please.’

‘I don’t think I can die. i’ve tried.’

‘when you have this much power and this much is at stake you don’t fucking run from it.’

‘I’m scared for you. for both of us. I can’t help that.’

‘if you stay here you’ll die for nothing.’

‘you’re my sister. how could I not remember you?’

‘holy shit. you’re going to die. we’re all going to die.’

‘you never think, do you? you always just pick whatever fights you want, whenever you want, and fuck the consequences—-’

‘if you die, I die.’

‘we’ll keep surviving until we’re safe and the world can’t touch us. one enemy at a time, agreed?’

‘you don’t know anything going into a battle. you only know the stakes.’

‘I had a dream. you died.’

‘I just want to make things right between us. what’s that going to take?’

‘I really am sorry. please, I don’t want us to end like this.’

‘please—- you have more enemies than you think you do—-’

‘you taught me the meaning of fear. nothing more.’

‘I know what kind of person you are— you betray those who help you and you throw lives away like they’re nothing.’

‘we are precisely the same, you and I.’

‘we’ve acquired more power than any mortal should have the right to, which means we have to make the decisions no one else can.’

‘the world is our chessboard. it’s not our fault if the pieces get broken.’

‘would you really do things differently, if you had another chance?’

‘tell me you wouldn’t have given up everything. tell me you wouldn’t sacrifice everything and everyone you knew for the power to take back your country.’

‘you don’t understand the stakes, because you don’t know the meaning of true fear. you don’t know how much worse it could have been.’

‘I’m sorry I hurt you. but I had a plan to protect my people, and you simply got in the way.’

‘____ discards allies without blinking when they are no longer convenient, and if you don’t believe me when I say you’re next, then you’re a fool.’

‘you need me far more than you need them.’

‘you think that he’s invincible, but he is more fragile than you think.’

‘I know that he’d throw himself off a cliff for you. please stop trying to break him.’

‘a puppet to the end. when are you going to learn?’

‘I know what you told him. now I want you to tell me the truth.’

‘have you ever considered being less of a pretentious fuck?’

‘do you have any idea how much trouble you are?’

‘do you want someone to rearrange your face? because I’ll do it for free.’

‘I just don’t want the world to break you.’

‘don’t you dare puke on me.’

‘if you’re trying to drown me, then you’re being a little obvious about it.’

‘why do you always think someone’s trying to kill you?’

‘I feared you, I hated you, and that never really went away.’

‘you can’t beat that thing. you have no idea what you’re up against.’

‘this is what happens when men are fool enough to toy with heaven.’

‘chaos is clever. it can disguise itself as rational and benevolent. it can make us merciful. but in the end, it must always be hunted down and destroyed.’

‘if you’re going to kill us all then you’ll have to kill him, too.’

‘he’s not the one we’re trying to save.’

‘you’ll be alright. it’s not as bad as you think it is.’

‘I’m supposed to be a soldier! what the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

#literature prompts #literature sentence starters #the dragon republic sentence starters #the dragon republic prompts #the poppy war series prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #rp sentence starters

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thesimperiuscurse · 3 years

Photo

08.04

It’s The Kingston Legacy’s sixth anniversary, so here’s a throwback post to celebrate! Last month I forced myself to reread the entire legacy, and while I stopped, clicked off the tab, and emitted a soundless scream of pure cringe numerous times (I wish I was kidding)—the past generations are actually not as terrible as I remember. I think enough time has passed for me to detach myself from the childish storytelling and look back in nostalgia.

Thank you to my fellow Wordpress writers who have come along the journey, some for many years now, through every high and low. It’s astounding how much has changed in the legacy from when I was 15, and 21. Follow me down the (very) long memory lane, as I reminiscence about each story and my perspective on them now ❤

Generation 1 — Fern (2015)

To my shock, I found myself genuinely enjoying Fern’s story. I think this was because the first generation was purely me commentating on gameplay, and not trying to write a story (that’s when the cringe began). I was inspired by one of the original stories, Alice and Kev, to make a homeless sim and document her struggle for a better life: Fern, a snobby aspiring writer. Reading this, a huge wave of nostalgia hit me, and it reminded me of how wonderful Sims 3 gameplay is. Although I’m long past it now, there’s real heart and life in the design. I think it speaks about the rich personalities and quirks that I could write a whole life story off it. It was super fun making Fern camp out at Old Pier Beach, stealing from townie picnics and roasting apples on the fire, finding little ways to scrounge money, giving her a makeover in the salon, watching the townie dramas unfold around her. Although she faced homelessness two times and a shitty first husband (yeah, fuck off, Xander), Fern grew into a strong and independent yet sweet and gentle character, in love with the ocean like her great-granddaughter comes to be.

I never actually addressed this, but she (and her love Christopher) passed away in the story between the end of Gen 3 and start of Gen 4. It just felt weird to make it a big deal because they never died in game—still ‘alive’ and well, scattered across different backup saves and the bin.

Generation 2 — Briar (2015)

Briar’s story was strange, because it was half gameplay and half story, which meant that there were things that just did not... make... sense. She was quite an ‘unreliable’ character to follow because of her Insane trait. The plot revolved around her as a fresh detective, investigating supernatural phenomena in Sunset Valley. Her character arc was almost the opposite to her mother’s: a naive, optimistic, silly girl hardening through trauma into a cold and ruthless police chief. Ash’s death was the one moment I felt true sadness in this legacy, because he did really die. Imagine me actually getting emotional over my characters, lmao. Wild.

Also, Max is OP. To this day he is one of the best male characters in my legacy, a healthy and supportive best friend (to husband) in stark contrast to the following generation.

Fallen Angels — Cherry (2016-2019)

Yes. It’s this generation. Square the fuck up, Cherry. I will fight her any day. Old readers will know of my pure hatred for this story. It’s been about two years since it thankfully ended. My verdict now?

It’s not quite as horrifically shitty, Gabriel and Lilith being a lot nicer than I remembered (Gabriel’s only a bit of a dick at the start), but it still has glaring problems, such as the pacing and clumsy handling of sensitive topics. The story would have been far nicer if it focused less on Cherry and Luc’s relationship and their respective issues, more on the found family and her relationship with Gabriel (which was rushed due to me despising the story by that point). During the first chapters, I was cringing spectacularly at the combination of Luc’s initial jackass behaviour and Cherry’s whining. Toxic as FUCK. I had to skip 3.8 and 3.9 entirely. These two (because of my own shameful mistake) tainted the generation in my eyes, and even though all of the characters grew from their toxicity, I can’t really see past that guilt to the better parts of the story.

Jade has been telling me for years that this story isn’t all bad, and upon forcing myself to reread, I can see what you mean. I’m sorry LOL. Something that pleasantly surprised me was the writing quality (just the prose, not the actual story mechanics... lmfao), and Raphael, who made me smile every time he appeared. Every single careless, sarcastic line of his was a banger. The pictures are something else I like, too. Many of them stand up to the best ones in En Pointe—the fiery, gritty, industrial tones of Bridgeport just hits different. The world was rich and immersive, which is missing at the moment in En Pointe because of me being too lazy to build a proper Los Angeles world, but Act III is set in Boroughsburg so I’m excited to get back into the city scenes. 17 year old me wasn’t mature enough to tackle dark themes, but at least the visuals for them were nice, I guess. The atmosphere of the story I really enjoy. It’s just the toxic characters and way-too-angsty moments that ruin the whole thing for me.

En Pointe — Evangeline (2019-)

And here we are now! The early chapters are kinda painful to read because 1) Mako looked so ugly and 2) the dialogue was so clumsy and generic. I sighed in relief when Chapter 5 came around, because it was then both of those aspects really began to improve. Eva’s voice was simple, with her punchy remarks, much less romantic and descriptive than Cherry, so it was interesting to see her voice becoming more complex and layered as I more understood her character. Also, me visibly struggling with the natural lighting and only getting a handle on it 7 chapters later has me shaking my head.

I’m already beginning to identify issues with the story, mostly with character arcs and pacing. It’s a strange combination of fast pacing (spanning half a year in 8 chapters) and Eva becoming surprisingly comfortable with Mako’s touch due to their unusual pas de deux circumstances. It’s curious how real life time actually played into the pacing of the story—because of the slow publishing schedule, less time has passed in the story as real life, so it’s almost as if the time jumps were made up by real life time, making the jumps feel not too strange. Reading consecutively, however, Evako’s relationship growth doesn’t feel slow burn... a little underdeveloped, in a way, despite their lengthy conversations. I think that’s because of Mako being such a reserved and mysterious character, and that I’ve unconsciously come to rely on Tumblr to give more depth to the characters/relationships. Luckily, pretty much everyone who comments on the story also follows me here, so this dual-platform storytelling is okay, I suppose. I want to post more of #Mishako since there just isn’t enough time to explore their bromance in the story!

At the moment I’m not happy with the story, but it’s fine. I’m learning. There’s more than half the story to go, which means plenty of time to reflect upon the issues and improve. I’m really looking forward to Eva and Mako’s character arcs in Act III. At the moment their relationship is based on their natural chemistry and respect for each other, and since they are yet to face trials their bond isn’t super deep, but Evako are still my favourite couple in the legacy thus far, and feel much more real than any character I’ve written before. It’s been very interesting for my aro ass (and being way more logical than emotional) to figure out a dynamic that is actually compelling to me, because most of the time when I look at romance I’m just like 😐🤨 I’m liking it so far but we shall see how everything unfolds, because I have barely any idea what’s going to happen beyond Act II, lmfao.

That’s it for my incredibly long throwback! I hope it was at least nice for the OG readers, and interesting for anyone else who managed to battle through this essay, haha. This family has been an integral part of me growing up, as a person and writer and artist (what I’ve developed in visuals I apply to architecture), learning a great deal of awareness about real life through story research, which is pretty cool now that I think about it. I’m aiming to finish En Pointe by the end of 2022. I’m excited for what unexpected changes are to come!

#wordpress is being annoying like tumblr right now #they're trying to sneakily integrate the new site design into the old #pretty sure a lot of people don't like the new one #why can't i view media by month #now i have to scroll through a million pictures to find old ones #why is it selecting several when i just want to open one pic #fuck youuu #anyway #very busy week #lilaremonn #thesimperiuscurse

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dapandapod · 3 years

Text

Longing for you

Written for the Witcher Bog Fluff Battle! The prompt was: Dancing! It’s 1821 words, and I gave myself feelings. Here on Ao3, enjoy <3

The ballroom is sparkling in all its glory.

The chandeliers are newly polished and gleaming in the candlelight, the dance floor big and filled with couples of all shapes and sizes.

Jaskier lives for this.

Lives for watching the happiness on their faces, the subtle seduction of a wanted partner, the romancing of a loved one. The small touches, the twirls, the dramatic lifts and dips. He always get a front row view, best place in the house; on the stage.

With him on the podium is a small ensemble of other bards, playing various instruments and harmonizing with his words every now and then.

It is a lovely night. The only thing that is missing is a partner of his own.

Oh how he longs to dance, to be out on the floor. To have a hand in his, to lead or to be led through the intricate moves, someone's heartbeat close to his. He is aching with it, honestly, and the good thing with that is that it adds an extra flair to his music.

Or so he’s been told. Repeatedly.

So he holds on to that ache and longing, pouring it out for the ballroom to enjoy. This is a very well paying gig after all, and they certainly can use the money.

They, as in him and Geralt. They picked up the pieces after the mountain. Used words, talked about it, and things are as they were before.

Alright, no. It’s better, more like an actual friendship.

The barbs don’t sting anymore, and there are smiles now. Finding Ciri probably helped. She is with Yennefer right now, learning how to handle her magic.

So Geralt and Jaskier set out on the road again. And if Jaskier wasn’t so hopelessly in love with his witcher, everything would have been perfect.

Jaskiers eyes search for Geralt in the crowd, knowing him preferring to be a wallflower on these kinds of nights.

This song has no words, lucky for him, because when he spots that white mop of hair, Geralt is already watching him.

His chest flutters, flips, tingles, and he can’t help the small smile on his lips.

Geralt is standing closer than he expected, and Jaskier can see him break into a soft smile too.

Fuck, he is a goner.

His cheeks burn, so he breaks the stare, takes a breath, and looks back out on the crowd. Fuck he wants to be there. He wants to dance with Geralt, knowing full well it will never happen.

Not only because he is always the entertainment and rarely gets the opportunity, but because Geralt would never. Especially not with him.

Another bard comes to take Jaskiers place and hour or so later. It is going to be a long night, so they are taking turns. That’s what it is when royalty marries.

The second Jaskier leaves the podium he goes to find Geralt. How can he not? His throat is parched, so he should probably find himself something to drink too.

Geralt is where Jaskier saw him last, leaning against the wall. Only, there is a lady there now. A small, petite lady with big eyes, with a hand on Geralt's arm. And he is letting her.

Jaskier frowns.

And when Geralt smiles down at her, Jaskier knows he can’t go there.

So he turns, and finds himself a drink.

Too weak for his state of mind, but a blessing for his throat. He can’t look back. Won’t.

He feels raw, having poured out his longing in his music again. It’s not as obvious as it could be, this time, but he still feels exposed.

Suddenly he feels so alone.

In a sea of strangers, he finds himself standing on the edge of it all. Watching the couples twirl, and a pang of longing punches him in the gut.

This will not do.

Jaskier drains his drink and gives it to a bypassing servant and sets his aim for the gardens.

The garden is equally magical. Small lanterns are hung everywhere, some with colored glass, lighting the pathways and hedges.

Out here it’s calmer.

Some people are strolling arm in arm, some sit and whisper on benches. Jaskier takes aim towards the gazebo, where a single bard with a violin plays for the dancers there. He leans against a pillar, arms crossed and head leaning against the cold stone, and pretends. Pretends that he could be among them.

He is so lost in this fantasy that he doesn’t notice someone approaching. He startles when Geralt's arm touches his, and looks up to see Geralt standing right next to him.

“You disappeared.” Geralt says, nudging him again. That is a thing they do now, touching.

“Yes. You seemed busy, and I decided I needed some air.” Jaskier says, half truths and almosts on his tongue.

He looks away, studying the man playing violin rather than the dancers.

“You sang really well today.” Geralt says, and that’s new. Jaskier looks back at him with big eyes and mouth half agape.

“I- uh… Thanks.” Jaskier unfolds his arms and stands up straight. “You look nice tonight.”

And yes, he really does. Once again, Jaskier managed to squeeze Geralt into some finery, the doublet has golden details that brings out his eyes. Jaskeir especially likes it because of the barely there floral pattern, hidden around the waist. And Geralt, for once, didn’t protest when Jaskier presented it. Just draggin a finger over the fabric and put it on without complaint.

It felt oddly intimate, and Jaskier feels like he in some secret way marked him as his. His witcher, even though he knows full well he is not. Geralt is his own, and never someone else's. Not even Yennefers.

And now those golden details does its job, the small lanterns and the golden threads makes Geralt look otherworldly. Jaskier swallows thickly, ignoring the pitter patter of his heart. Why does he keep doing this to himself?

Geralt tilts his head questioningly.

“What’s wrong? Are you sad?” Geralt asks.

Ah. So something is showing on his face after all. Geralt has gotten better at picking up those things from Jaskier, for good and for bad.

“It’s nothing.” Jaskier says, smiling despite himself. “I just never get to dance, is all. Is what it is to be a bard sometimes.”

They stand in silence for a few beats. Jaskier watches the dance, slow and gentle and intimate, the violin achingly sweet.

“Do you want to dance?” Geralt asks. Jaskier looks back at him quizzically.

“Yes?”

Only when Geralt takes his hand in his does the coin drop.

“Oh you meant with- oh.” Jaskier mumbles when Geralt leads him out on the floor and then stands to face him. “Do you know how to…?”

Geralt smirks, and it punches the air out of Jaskiers lungs. It doesn’t feel real, and then Geralt's hands snake around his waist.

“I have been alive for a very long time, Jaskier.” he says, and leads them through the steps. Jaskier lets his own arms rest over Geralts, so close to his shoulders. It feels too much almost, but it’s tempting.

Together they dance across the floor, so much smoother than jaskier had anticipated. Their eyes never stray from each other, and Jaskier can feel himself smiling. Again it strikes him, how unreal it feels. Almost enough to make him want to pinch himself.

“Having fun?” Geralt asks, and the gentle smile is painful, so painful. Jaskiers fingers curl in the fabric of Geralt's doublet.

“Yes. Thank you, Geralt, for doing this for me.” He says.

“My pleasure.” Geralt says back, pulling him just a little closer, and oh. Jaskier draws in a shuddering breath.

“Geralt?”

“Jaskier?” The way his name falls off Geralt's tongue. It’s intoxicating.

“Why are you dancing with me?” Jaskier asks, despite his fears, despite the terror of being left again.

“You wanted to dance?” Geralt says simply, tilting his head in question again.

“Yes, but you don’t? You never do? And you could have danced with the lady inside?” And Jaskier has to look away now, finally. He can’t look at Geralt when he asks, he can only be so brave.

Geralt doesn’t reply at first. They dance, fluent and flawless, turning among the other couples.

“You don’t know?” Geralt asks, so quietly Jaskier isn’t sure he was meant to hear.

“Don’t know what?” Jaskier dares a look, and Geralt's eyes are fixed on him, his arms tightening and pulling him just a little closer.

They are almost touching now, only inches separating them. He steers them to a corner of the gazebo, out of the way of the other dancers, and stops.

Geralt draws in a breath, as if preparing to say something hard, still holding Jaskeir close. Jaskier can’t breathe, his eyes unwillingly dropping to those parted lips so close to his, and then back up to those amber eyes.

“I care for you, Jaskier. I care about your happiness, about your smiles, everything that makes up you.”

“Geralt.” Jaskier breathes, burning, shattering, breaking and healing all at the same time.

“I love you.” Geralt says and Jaskier feels his eyes sting, his chin wrinkle. Fuck.

“I wanted you to know, because… I’m not the best at words, but I don’t want to lose you again.”

Brave, brave witcher. He looks terrified, with every word he looks terrified but determined, and Jaskier can’t help himself.

Finally he lets his hands slide up over those shoulders, wrapping around them, and then he leans in.

Geralt meets him in the kiss, pulling him flush to his body. It’s hard to breathe, all the feelings contained in his chest fighting to break loose.

The kiss is short, just like Jaskiers breath, and instead he presses his forehead to Geralts, just to be close.

“Fuck.” Jaskier whispers, trying to piece himself back together. “Fuck.”

Geralt smiles and nudges his nose against his. One of his hands to cup Jaskiers cheek.

“Ever the poet.” He teases, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck off.”

“Alright.” Geralt says, and makes to pull away, but Jaskier grips him tightly.

“No.” He whines. “No, stay.”

“As long as you’ll have me.” Geralt says, and leans his cheek against Jaskier.

“Say it again.” Jaskier begs.

“I love you,”

“I love you too. Have loved you for years."

They stand there for what seems like ages, closely together. Eventually they have to part, Jaskier has to get up on the podium again. But this time, when he sings, the aching is another. He can’t help but to watch Geralt, where he waits by the wall, watching him.

And when the night ends, the sun rising above them, Geralt and Jaskier retreats, ignoring Jaskiers room in favour of Geralts. They hold each other close in sleep, sweaty and warm, but not letting go.

Waking up makes Jaskiers chest ache for an entirely different reason.

Love.

#bog fluff battle #fluff #so much fluf #geraskier #dancing #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #witcher geralt #jaskier #jaskier the bard #julian alfred pankratz #witcher fanfiction #i gave myself feelings

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robinrunsfiction · 3 years

Text

It’s A Love Story - Part 5

Part 4

“Is everyone ready to go?” Gerard called to his bandmates as he closed the back of the van. It was the afternoon of the battle of the bands, and a nervous excitement was running through all of them.

“Let’s go!” Frank cheered as everyone started piling into the vehicle, but (YN) lingered back.

“Oh nooo, we have to sit together,” she smirked as Bob and Mikey got into the furthest back row of seats. Ray already riding shotgun, even though he was next to useless with a map.

“Damn,” he replied with a smile as they got into the middle row.

The van was an early Christmas/birthday/graduation present for Gerard from their grandparents. Even though they weren’t going to be at the battle of the bands, they fully supported their grandsons’ dreams, and after a few emphatic dinner table discussions, they agreed to buy the band something to get around in, on the condition that all of the boys get their high school diplomas.

“Do you know where we’re goin?” Bob shouted from the back after they’d been driving what felt like forever.

“We passed that sign like three times now,” Frank chimed in.

“Yea, we just gotta go north and then… wait, no! This is the exit! Take this exit!” Ray shouted as Gerard swerved to catch the exit ramp at the last possible second. Shouts and grumbles of annoyance came from all passengers as they held on for dear life.

“Oh shut up,” Gerard said, glancing back.

“Gee! Brake!” Ray shouted, pulling Gerard’s attention back to the traffic they were about to crash into.

Gerard slammed on the brakes just before he slammed into the station wagon ahead of them and Frank threw his arm out protectively in front of (YN). As Gerard sat rattled in the driver’s seat, Ray glanced back to check on the bandmates. That’s when (YN) realized that his eyes were transfixed on where Frank’s hand had ended up on her knee. She froze, not knowing what to do.

“Everybody good?” Ray asked, still seeming to be focused on the other guitarist.

“You guys good?” (YN) asked turning to Mikey and Bob behind them, in hopes it would pull Ray’s attention away from what Frank was doing. That’s when she caught Frank’s eye. She glanced down at his hand before nodding slightly toward Ray. Frank’s eyes went wide as he snatched his hand away.

“Close one,” (YN) whispered to Frank when they were back on their way.

“Sorry,” he winced.

“It’s fine,” she smiled.

When they finally arrived at the venue hosting the competition, they were given a schedule of when they’d go on, as well as a table where they could sell merch, meet the other bands, as well as any potential fans. (YN) set up the box of CDs that had been recorded in the garage, and arranged the shirts that she’d designed and felt her nerves starting to build. She hoped the competition would go well for the guys, which would drive people to look at the merch. If her shirts were liked well enough that fans would buy them, it would prove to the guys that she could be a help to My Chem and she could remain involved.

The guys were one of the first bands to perform that evening, and to say they crushed it would be an understatement. The crowd was in a frenzy, and as soon as they were done a ton of the spectators came over and bought merch. That’s when (YN) noticed the girls lingering off to the side, watching the guys talk to their new fans. Once the crowd dissipated, they swooped in.

“Hey,” the first girl purred, grinning at Gerard. “My name’s Veronica, and I just wanted to say you guys were really amazing up there.”

(YN) tried to keep from obviously rolling her eyes as the girls blatantly flirted with her brothers and friends. However, she was pulled from her thoughts when she heard one of the other girls ask if they’d ever consider dating a fan of the band.

Frank smirked and shot (YN) a glance. "Only if she'd been a fan from like day one, ya know? Like very clearly not just into me because of the band."

"Oh," the girl pouted.

"I mean, I'd be cool dating a fan!" Ray chimed in.

That's when an idea popped into (YN)'s head. "Hey Gee," she said, getting her brother's attention and pulling him away from the group.

"What’s up?"

(YN) had to do her best not to start laughing at her evil idea. “I don’t think you should be talking to these girls.”

“Wait, why not?” He asked, clearly confused.

“I see the way they’re looking at you and I can imagine what they’re thinking and it’s gross. They’re just interested because they wanna get with a band member, they aren’t actually interested in you as a person, and I’d really hate for you to get a reputation in the scene,” she smirked.

Gerard opened and closed his mouth a few times, speechless. “Not fair!” He finally blurted out.

“I'm just looking out for you,” she grinned evilly before he rolled his eyes and marched off.

After the remaining bands played, the judges deliberated, and the MC eventually returned to the stage to announce the winners. The crowd didn't go as crazy for any band as they did for My Chem, so (YN) had a good feeling, but she was nervous anyway. The third, and then second place winners were announced and then MC called for a drumroll before announcing the winner.

"And in first place," the MC paused for dramatic effect and (YN) thought her heart was gonna pound out of her chest. "My Chemical Romance!"

(YN) screamed with delight as everyone started to hug each other in celebration. Frank turned to her and she wanted to grab him and kiss him, but she could only smile before they ran up on stage. The MC handed them a trophy as the other bands came up to congratulate them.

A few more people came up to buy what was left of their makeshift merch, and (YN) imagined what kind of real merch they’d be able to make with the prize money. When everything was gone, she picked up the empty boxes and followed the venue’s instructions on where to dump them out back. A few people were lingering around the back of the venue, smoking, talking, or loading up vans, but she didn't recognize anyone until Frank stepped out the backdoor. Letting out a squeal of delight, she ran over to him, unable to hold back any longer.

"Oh my god that was amazing!" She said, throwing her arms around his neck as he lifted her up in a hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks babe!" He grinned as he returned her to her feet and kissed her hard, the adrenaline of the show, and winning still coursing through him. (YN) leaned into the kiss without a second thought.

"What the fuck?!" The shout cut through the cold late autumn night.

(YN) and Frank immediately jumped apart, as Gerard stalked toward them from where he’d been loading the van, with Mikey close behind. The other people who had been lingering around all turned to watch the unfolding scene.

"Frank, I thought of all the guys in school I could trust not to go after my sister, it would be you!" Gerard snapped, his finger in Frank’s face.

(YN) felt her blood start to boil. "Gerard! Stop it!” She snapped, pushing his hand away from Frank and stepping in between them. "God, this is so stupid! I love Frank! We're together and he has been nothing but sweet and kind and respectful and if I wanna keep dating him, then I’m gonna! Besides, you know Frank, you know he’s a good guy who isn’t gonna take advantage of me, or spread rumors, or anything else you’re scared of happening. Like who else could you possibly want me to date?”

Both Mikey and Gerard seemed to soften at her words, as silence hung between them. “You’re right,” Mikey finally conceded with a shrug before turning to Frank. “I’ve known you forever, and trust you to be good to (YN).”

“Thanks man,” Frank replied, relief evident in his tone.

"You love him?" Gerard asked, still hesitant.

"Yep," she nodded, still defiant.

"And you really love (YN)?" Gerard asked Frank.

"More than you can imagine."

Gerard nodded, considering his words. “Fine. But if she tells us you ever do anything to upset or hurt her,” Gerard started, his finger back in Frank’s face.

“You’ll kick my ass, I know,” Frank nodded, his hands up in defense.

“No, I’ll help (YN) kick your ass,” Gerard smirked. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Mikey and Gerard made their way back toward the van, but (YN) and Frank lingered behind.

(YN) turned and grinned at Frank before burying her face against his neck. “Oh my god! It happened, it finally happened! Life just got so much easier,” she laughed. "I don't think I've ever felt so relieved!"

"I’m just so happy that I can tell everyone how much I love you,” he grinned when she pulled back.

Just then Ray came out the back door that they were standing next to, guitar case in hand. The look on his face when he saw Frank’s hands on (YN) waist made (YN) immediately start giggling.

“Wha- what the hell is this?!” He asked, clearly confused.

“Remember that girlfriend that Tucker ratted me out for having a couple months ago?” Frank asked.

“Yea?”

“Hi,” (YN) grinned as she waved at him.

“But Gerard said-”

“Doesn’t matter,” (YN) cut him off.

“No stupid rules could keep me from being in love with (YN),” Frank said, almost more to (YN) than to Ray, as he pulled her closer.

She grinned at him, before leaning in and kissing him hard. She could have sworn she heard Ray muttering about being the last to know everything, but she didn’t care. Everything had finally turned around for her, and she didn’t have to hide her love for Frank ever again.

#frank iero x reader #frank iero fan fic #frank iero fan fiction #frank iero imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Dangerous and Divine - Part 10

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 In case you hadn’t guessed, this is my ‘Real Love for Russo’ AU. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. A little voyeurism. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

His eyes looked huge as he gazed at you, “I, uh... think I’ve fallen in love with you.” He stroked your cheek, “And it scares the shit out of me.”

You realised you must look like a fish, your mouth had dropped open in a big O. No sound came out of it though, as your brain had frozen solid when you’d heard Billy’s words.

He looked at you, worried frown on his face, “I know! I know what you’re gonna say. It’s too fast. I think it’s too fast too! - but I can’t help how I feel. It’s like I’ve run into a wall or something. Can’t stop thinkin’ about you. Wanna be with you all the time. Wanna make love to you all the time.”

You scratched the bristly hairs under his chin, running your fingers through them and into those on his neck. Still trying to think of what to say.

“Uh, I...” you stuttered, thinking ‘good start, “...Billy, I really like you. I’m enjoying being with you, and I’ve definitely got feelings for you. Already. And it scares the living shit out of me too. Not sure exactly what they are just yet,” you smiled at him, and were relieved to see him smile back. “But, yeah, I think I’ll hang around so I can find out. If that’s OK with you.”

He was still smiling, and leaned over to kiss you softly. “That’s more than OK with me. We can both be scared together.” Your arms went round his neck, your lips dotting little kisses onto his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his lips. “Yeah - let’s do that.” His eyes were still closed and a happy little smile had appeared on his face.

Oh, and Billy?” Dark eyes opened slowly and looked at you, “You know how we didn’t use a condom?” A tiny little frown on his brow, “Yeah?” “There won’t be any mini-Russo’s running around, don’t worry. I’m on birth control.” He chuckled, “Okay, I suppose that’s good to know. Wouldn’t have been a problem if it did happen, though.” You burst out laughing, “Really? Not a problem for you, so you say, but have you thought about how it might’ve been a problem for me?”

He sat up a bit, “Well... no I guess I didn’t. Would it be that much of bad thing?” You lay down and stared up at the ceiling. After a moment or two of silence, you hummed and said, “Well, having kids is not in my immediate life plan, but I’m not ruling it out.” Billy perched his chin on your shoulder, and you turned your head to meet those deep dark eyes again. He grinned, “Okay, I hear you. Guess it’s not in my plans right now either. But I have to say, we’d make beautiful babies.”

You smiled, “Maybe... but you still aren’t getting me pregnant and locking me in the kitchen!”

Billy had just laughed, giving you more of the puppydog eyes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After Billy had finally enjoyed a very pleasurable joint shower the next morning - he’d been fantasising about that ever since that time she’d locked him out of her bathroom - he’d dropped her at the Chelsea café before heading out to Anvil. He had a huge smile on his face as he thought back to the two of you playing around under the warm water of her rainfall shower, having immense fun and indulging each other with erotic pleasures.

But then his smile faded a little bit. His mind had moved on and was now playing over their conversation from the previous evening. Should he have told her how he felt? Not that he’d meant to, to be honest, but his sex-drowsy brain and loved-up mindset had let his mouth just blurt it out. It wasn’t like he was lying or anything, he’d just not planned for it to happen that way or at that particular time. She hadn’t said she was in love with him, but he was very pleased that she’d actually admitted she had feelings for him, which was good enough for him for the time being.

He was making his second cup of coffee by the time Frank arrived, so made him one too. The two buddies lounged back in their chairs, sipping at their caffeine hits, and Billy started catching Frank up with the dramas of the previous day, who listened with an increasingly amazed look on his face.

When Billy got to the bit about Madani’s visit to Anvil and what she’d done as soon as she arrived, Frank swore out loud and said angrily that he shouldn’t leave it like that, he should report her. Billy sighed, “Now’s not the time, Frankie. My girl’s got the right idea, she wants to wait till the case is done and then we’ll see. Madani’s crazy mad enough right now without us stirrin’ up more trouble for her.”

Frank grumbled, “Even more unhappy havin’ to work with her now. She’s a loose cannon.”

Billy shrugged, “You know we don’t have a choice, Frankie. And it was my dumb idea to lead her on in the first place.” He looked over at him, “This hotel meet tomorrow should bring this whole fuckin’ thing to a close.”

Their case was coming to a head. There had been shady goings-on back in Afghanistan when the two friends had been in the Marines, involving black ops and drug-smuggling which had led to Madani’s then-partner getting killed, and Billy getting his Anvil funding from CIA bad guy Rawlins. He was dead now too. And Madani was determined to get his remaining accomplices, one way or another. Homeland was using an undercover agent to lure them into a trap with the promise of selling them video and phone tap evidence, and Homeland had agreed to work jointly with Anvil on it.

Frank and Billy had insider knowledge which was crucial to keeping the undercover agent safe from discovery. They were originally arrested after the gun battle which ended Rawlins’ life because Anvil had muscled in on the confrontation between him and Homeland, and Frank had killed Rawlins in the course of it. Once the remaining two accomplices were under arrest - tomorrow hopefully - Homeland had promised Billy and Frank that all pending charges against them would be dropped.

Frank frowned, looking like a huge irate teddy bear, “It better,” he said darkly.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were immersed in paperwork, but your mind kept wandering. It was a busy little bee. All the stuff that had happened yesterday... it was a lot to take in. Madani’s two visits to you, her full-on assault of Billy, and then... Billy and what he’d said. Yeah, those three little words.

You could tell by his eyes when he’d said it that he’d surprised himself. At least he was as scared as you were. Did you love him? Really not sure. You definitely had feelings for him, that was for damn sure. When Madani had told you she was seeing Billy, you could have cheerfully murdered her. And again, when Billy told you what she’d done to him.

He’d told you this morning that in all honesty, if you hadn’t been in his life, his prior persona would have just let her carry on with it. You’d appreciated that he was being completely truthful with you, about that and also about stopping her in her tracks. He’d actually seemed quite shocked about how she’d behaved. And really not looking forward to seeing her again.

But he’d also told you that the case should be coming to a close tomorrow, and he couldn’t wait for it to be done and dusted. He also said he had a surprise for you which he’d tell you about tonight.

A smile crept onto your lips as you thought about seeing him that night. He was going to pick you up at your place and then head over to his, as he was cooking you dinner this time.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was flitting around his kitchen area, tea towel over his shoulder, wooden spoon in hand, picking up and moving pots and pans around his cooker, and basically just being a domestic god.

You were sipping wine, sitting at his kitchen table and watching this vision unfold in front of you, as you’d been told that you weren’t allowed to help. He looked edible, never mind the food - which smelt delicious. Billy was making pasta with meatballs in a tomato sauce, joking that it wasn’t quite as fancy as the lunch you’d made for him. And he’d also sliced fresh crusty bread with some olive oil and balsamic vinegar alongside for dipping.

“How’d it go with Mizzzz Madani today?” you asked, drawing out the “Ms” mockingly, dying to know what had happened. You could hear his sigh from where you were sitting. He looked over his shoulder at you, running a hand through his hair and frowning as he did, “Uhhhh... how can I put it? Really. Fuckin’. Awkward.”

He turned back to the food steaming away on the cooker top, continuing, “She just literally glared at me for the whole briefing. Like if she’d had knives with her, they’d all be stuck in me right now. Didn’t speak a word to me the whole time.”

“You know, Billy - that really fuckin’ annoys me! She’s the one who created the whole situation.”

Again a sigh, “Well, like I said to Frankie before the meeting, it was my dumb ass that thought leadin’ her on was a good way of getting her to keep us in the loop.”

“Yeah, you’re right but listen, she escalated this beyond reason when she stalked me and jumped you! You know what, Billy, once this is done and you and Frank are free and clear, I’m going after her ass.”

Billy started dishing up, chuckling as he did so, “That’s my girl!” “Billy, I reckon she thought I’d crumble when she marched into my café with her power dressing and big shiny badge. She picked the wrong person to piss off!” Strolling across to the table, Billy put the two plates of food down along with the cutlery, leant in and kissed you long and slow. “Mmmm,” he grinned, “yeah, she really did!”

His eyes softened, and he whispered, “I love you.” “Oh Billy,” you whispered back, and kissed him. Then you drew back, looking down at your dinner, “This looks and smells amazing!” “Stop changing the subject,” he grinned, sitting down and starting to eat. “Now that I told you, I’m just gonna keep saying it to you, and one time you might say it back to me!” You stroked his jaw, dragging your fingers through his beard, “You big sap.” He nodded, “Uhuh.”

“Now, tomorrow...” he continued, “...we’re finishing this thing. Can’t tell you details, but we’re gonna be based in one of the big hotels downtown. I’ve booked a room. Can you bunk off work to spend some time with your boyfriend? Sexy times in a fancy hotel room before he goes on his mission... and afterwards?”

You smirked, “Might do. If he makes it worth my while.” Bigger smirk from him, “He will, you can bank on it.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had dropped you home after dinner; he had to head back to Anvil as he, Frank and their team needed to get prepped for the next day. You felt quite giddy when you realised he’d taken time out just to make you dinner. Maybe you did love this guy!

You texted Jake & Jen to say you’d decided to take the next day off, but they could of course get in touch with you if need be.

Jake: No problem, have a great day off 😌

Jen: Lucky you!!!! 😉🥵

You laughed at Jen’s reply, cheeky woman! She’d guessed exactly what you’d be up to on your day off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Packing an overnight bag after you’d showered and dressed very early the next morning, you made sure to include some pretty lingerie. Billy was in for a treat.

Speak of the devil. Your phone chimed with a new text.

Your Boyfriend: I’m outside your place, my angel 😘

You: Do you have to be on time, all the time? 🙄😌

Your Boyfriend: Ex-Marine, darling 🥷😉😘

You: OK big boy, I’ll be down in 5 😘

Your Boyfriend: 🍒🍆😈

Twenty minutes later, you were driven into the hotel’s underground carpark in Billy’s SUV (no Wraith today!) and he asked you to wait in the car until he came back for you. Once he returned with the keycard, he took you up to the lifts via the fire exit stairs, so you wouldn’t have to walk through the lobby. Very cloak and dagger, you thought.

The hotel room was very fancy indeed, all boutique hotel chic. You’d just put your large tote bag down beside the bed, when two arms grabbed you, spun you round and threw you onto the bed. Billy nuzzled into your neck, making low growling sounds. His hands got busy unfastening your shirt, so you started on his, both of you kissing each other’s skin wherever you could reach it.

Billy groaned, “Angel... sorry, this is gonna have to be a really quick thing, m’nearly due to get kitted up for this fuckin’ op.” “That’s okay,” you gasped, “just get your clothes off, Russo.” He grinned, sitting up on his knees and stripping off his shirt, followed by his boots, jeans and CK boxer briefs. You were just lying there, eyes drinking in that fine body of his, until he took hold of his erection and gave himself a few strokes, stiffening even more. That snapped you out of your trance, and you sat up and stripped off your clothes quick as a flash.

You and Billy then kind of leapt on each other at the same time, and you found yourself tumbling backwards again onto the huge bed with Billy on top of you. He slid two fingers gently inside you before finding your clit and rubbing at it hard with his thumb. He was kissing your neck and then your breasts, licking your nipples roughly, making you give little squeals.

His fingers left you, and you felt him move his hard cock between your legs with his hand. He pushed inside with one big thrust and you gave a big, deep sigh at how good he felt inside you. Hearing Billy sigh out your name as he buried himself in you, you thought you also heard a click. Billy was kissing you hungrily and had started thrusting into you at a pretty fast pace. All thoughts of anything else went out of your head.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah Madani had calmed down quite a lot over the last 24 hours.

She’d drunk herself into oblivion when she’d got home after leaving Anvil, and had to sit through that excruciating briefing with Russo and Castle the next day nursing a raging hangover. Did she regret what she’d done? Any of it? No, she didn’t.

To put it mildly, she wanted Billy Russo, and had thought she was going to get him. While she knew that she’d lost her head over him, that she’d looked so desperate when she’d jumped him in his office, she really didn’t give a shit. Madani had decided to take a shot at getting him back, and she’d taken it.

It hadn’t worked. That had really surprised as well as humiliated her. What did that bitch have that she didn’t? Anyhow, yeah - he’d kicked her to the curb, so she was just going to have to take it on the chin and move on. Not that she was happy about it, and easier said than done.

She’d decided to hunt Russo down in his room and go over some last-minute details with him. And if she was honest, maybe see if being in a hotel bedroom with him changed the dynamic any. The hotel manager had given her a master keycard as she was Agent-in-Charge of this undercover op. She was going to go in unannounced she decided, well she was the boss on this op after all. Maybe Russo would be in the shower, she mused to herself, with a pleasurable thrill.

As she opened the door and walked in, about to call out his name, what she saw did not please her in the slightest. Billy Russo’s naked tight ass thrusting up and down, him sighing and groaning out loud, lying in between a pair of legs, and she could just guess who they belonged to.

Wanting to turn round and get the hell out of there, Madani found herself rooted to the spot. It was like car crash TV... she just couldn’t bring herself to look away. So, she stood there and just watched.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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please-return-to-villanelle · 4 years

Text

Cold Turkey

S3E8 recap

What do you want Villanelle?

I’m looking for a new challenge.

Villanelle tries to retroactively accept Carolyn’s job offer to work for MI6, but with a slight twist. She no longer wants to kill. She is looking to start over. Carolyn isn’t convinced that Villanelle has any useful skills outside of assassinating and turns her offer down. By seeking out Carolyn, Villanelle was taking a real step of her own accord to actively remove herself from the Twelve rather than simply runaway.

I can change.

You’ve infected her with your disgusting lack of ambition.

The Villanelle that Dasha and Konstantin are discussing is the Villanelle of the past. The one whose life was not altered by Eve Polastri. In this conversation, Konstantin chastised Dasha for almost killing Villanelle with her brutal training tactics focused on discipline while Dasha jabs back by blaming Konstantin for giving her no structure. In other words, Villanelle almost died because of Dasha’s method of strict rule while Konstantin made her lazy due to his method of no rules. Neither handler gave Villanelle what she needed and BOTH of them imposed what they wanted upon her. She seems like a disappointment to them now that she is breaking free of her chains and becoming her own person, which is something neither Dasha nor Konstantin is capable of doing.

As I mentioned in my S3E7 recap (post), I think the portrayal of Dasha was meant to depict what Villanelle’s life may have been if she continued working for the Twelve for the rest of her life. This would have been a life of isolation (Winners win alone) with the illusion of freedom to do as she pleases, so long as her bosses are happy.

I wish my son was here.

The death of Dasha is Villanelle’s worst fear, and ironically, the end Dasha predicted for Villanelle; one in which she dies alone and without someone who loves her.

FINALLY, we arrive to the long-anticipated Villanelle and Eve reunion where they both “Wear it down” (post).

What I love most about this whole scene is both Villanelle and Eve have their walls of emotional armor down the entire time. Neither of them entered the ballroom with their masks on. The cheeky and overly confident façade of Villanelle is not there and the delusional MI6 agent façade for Eve is gone.

They came just as they are: Eve and Oksana.

This entire scene looks and feels like the past: the ballroom dancing, the clothing of the dancers and Villanelle’s 60s outfit, the lighting, the music, and the decorum. It’s almost as if this is a fantasy moment where time stands still; and in this moment, Oksana and Eve share a moment of honesty about the past and future.

Do you ever think about the past?

All of the time.

Eve can tell immediately that something is deeply bothering Villanelle and so her offer to dance serves as a temporary distraction but also as an opportunity to find real peace.

I want to feel carefree.

Well dancing will do that.

The freedom they are discussing here is emotional freedom. Both Villanelle and Eve have their own internal demons they are battling and neither have been able to find peace on their own.

Dancing is not my thing.

Mine either, but it’s good to try new things.

The origin of the word dance came from the Latin word saltare which means to “leap with emotion”. What Eve is offering Villanelle is emotional support by “letting it win” in order to quit their self-destructive habits of repressing their feelings around each other. In other words, they are actively giving into their emotions to feel and deal with it together rather than keep it all buried inside.

They both fumble at first, this is something new after all, but then they begin to talk openly with each other as they sway in sync. While staring at a happy elderly couple, Villanelle asks Eve is she wants to be like them. What she is really asking here is: Would a long, normal and carefree life make you happy?

Eve honestly replies no. Why?

We’d never make it that long. We’d consume each other before we hit old age.

Eve’s reply is significant because she envisions her life with Villanelle in it and associates her with happiness. In her brain, she re-framed the question from “Would I be happy” to “Would we be happy?” For Eve, to be happy means to have Villanelle but she recognizes that this situation of teatime dancing in the fantasy ballroom is not sustainable for them. Eve understands that happiness means becoming fully consumed mind, body, and soul by Villanelle which may not allow them to live a long life with the danger and chaos they always find themselves involved in.

I’ve killed a lot of people

Villanelle said these exact words to her mother. In this instance she was rejected, told she had a darkness, and instructed to leave.

With Eve, she was immediately accepted without hesitation and held in a loving embrace.

I know.

When she dances with Eve, she is Oksana. No pretense, no cheeky jokes, no lies. She is just a girl dancing with her wife, because this scene proves they are married, but when Eve leaves and she turns to talk to Rhian, Villanelle the mask is back on. Now she is cheeky, the pretense is back, and the game of lies is on.

Rhian leads Villanelle away to take her to see Helene in order to, once again, play by another handler’s set of rules.

Come a long little sheep.

Villanelle is determined to maintain her autonomy and have the happy life that Eve envisioned for the two of them. Killing Rhian to have her dream life takes its toll since murdering is no longer something she can disassociate from.

I’m sorry.

Villanelle now feels things when she kills. This was the cost of learning what love means and opening herself up emotionally. She is now capable of feeling love and happiness, but this means she can also feel pain and loss. This kill was a milestone for her because we see this balance of Villanelle the assassin and Oksana the woman.

Interestingly, Eve (aka Tallulah Shark) has a similar experience at the betting parlor and with her exchange with Konstantin. She osculates from not a nice lady to innocent and caring throughout both of these scenes.

I think this was significant in depicting how both Eve and Villanelle are capable of attaining balance between their darkness and light. More importantly, they are most at center when they together both emotionally and physically.

Now I know many of you are wondering: What was the point of Geraldine?

I think her point was literally to annoy the emotions out of Carolyn. She was annoying to us because that’s how Carolyn felt also.

Carolyn has been a spy for decades and has learned to separate her work life from her personal life. The death of Kenny was what forever merged these two aspects of her life; but the death of her son alone was not enough of a trauma for Carolyn to willingly “let it win” by succumbing to her guilt in order to feel this great loss. She needed someone to pry these feelings out of her unwillingly.

That’s what you say it’s about, but what’s this really about?

So, in a way, Geraldine is the therapist Carolyn never asked for but desperately needed in order to find peace with the death of Kenny which she achieves in her final scene with provocation from someone else she cares about: Konstantin.

Konstantin has betrayed literally everyone in his life including his own family. What’s interesting about this scene is that Villanelle is watching this whole exchange without any knowledge of Eve and Carolyn’s investigation into Kenny’s death. In fact, she seemed to have no knowledge of Carolyn and Konstantin’s past.

Villanelle is witnessing this relationship for the first time unfold and she realizes that Konstantin, someone she considered a friend/ family, is using Carolyn’s love for him against her. It’s truly a fascinating detail.

I feel like the series has drawn many parallels between Carolyn and Konstantin’s relationship to Eve and Villanelle’s. Both couples are literal enemies to lovers. Much like Dasha, this is a glimpse into what Villanelle and Eve’s future relationship might look like if they continue their current career paths. Their relationship will dissolve into nothing more than transactions and lies all centered around work.

What Villanelle doesn’t know, is that Konstantin has used Carolyn’s feelings against her to save himself before. Let us recall the car driving scene from the previous episode. He flat out lied about what he was discussing with Kenny in order to save himself from Carolyn’s inquisition and reckless driving. Konstantin has no rules set and no set of morals. He just wants to stay alive.

Winners win alone.

Once again, Konstantin shamelessly chooses himself above all others. He plays his last hand by telling Carolyn he loves her to influence her decision making by tugging at her feelings.

In this moment it clicks for Villanelle. This is the type of behavior her mother showed her and her siblings. She manipulated the feelings of those that loved her and used them to manipulate them into doing her bidding or boasting her ego. With this realization, Villanelle saw that her mother was not her family, and neither is Konstantin.

He only called out to her when he was desperate and blatantly ignored her own calls of desperation throughout their entire relationship. She also witnesses Carolyn spare Konstantin. Instead of killing him out of anger and she let him go out of what little love she still holds for him. I believe this was a parallel to Villanelle shooting Eve in Rome out of anger. I think Villanelle recognized the difficult choice Carolyn made and why it’s so important for her and Eve to walk away from all of this if they want their happy life together.

Cold turkey.

Eve is not fully prepared to let all of this go. To her, fixating on the Twelve means fixating on Villanelle. So in this moment, I think she panicked and fled because she can’t comprehend how to live that life without Villanelle and the Twelve consuming her. She craves the excitement, the darkness, and chaos that comes with Villanelle.

You’re so many things.

Eve comes to a place of acceptance and finally admits to Villanelle that they are the same and that she wanted Villanelle in her life all along. The cost was blowing up her own life; but Eve never truly wanted that life. She only became passionate and fully alive after Villanelle came crashing into her life.

Wear it down.

Since that 30 second meeting in the bathroom, Villanelle and Eve were forever changed. They briefly saw the monsters in each other. Neither recoiled. They continued to pursue each other and are finally at a point where they can fully see one another for exactly who they are. They were both seeking the relationship they now have. It’s not a normal relationship like the couple in the fantasy ballroom, but it’s the real connection they have both been yearning for.

Help me make it stop.

At the end Villanelle offers Eve a solution to stopping all the pain, chaos, and darkness that comes with their unique relationship.

She is suggesting that Eve has to quit her cold turkey.

Villanelle is presenting them both with the opportunity to cut ties with their consuming relationship and attain their individual freedom that they have both been trying to attain throughout this season.

Ultimately, neither one is prepared to quit cold turkey. In the end, they choose to remain tethered by the red string of fate that binds them. They choose to view each other as equals and mutually consume each other to attain their version of love and happiness.

It’s new challenge they willingly face together.

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