#those are the ones I’m thinking of here but I’m sure people who ar emote into other Grian ships could make it about those

[braxiatel]

Thinking about Grian from a shippy point of view, I think it’s really easy to misunderstand his character.

The thing is that when Grian likes someone he Likes them. Capital L.

Mumbo, Scar, BigB, etc. When he falls he falls hard and he becomes obsessed with the objects of his affection.

And here is where a lot of people get him wrong (and to be clear I’m thinking about this because I am trying to improve my characterisation of him and can see places where I’ve made this exact mistake in the past). The thing is, Grian is self aware and he is trying sooooooooooo so hard to appear Normal about the object(s) of his affection. At all times he is - if not physically then mentally - doodling his name next to his crush’s name surrounded by hearts, but he can’t have them knowing that. He would walk into hell for them but he Will complain about it the whole way. He will wither away without their attention, but will go no further than to coincidentally happen to do so in the place they are most likely to find him.

And that, I believe, is the crux of why getting his character right is difficult. He cares so deeply, leading some people to think that he is all lovey-dovey and not at all guarded with his emotions, but at the same time he is trying (albeit badly at times) to hide his affection, leading another camp of people to take him at face value and think he doesn’t care.

I don’t have much of a point other than how interesting it is, and perhaps a hope of seeing it featured more in fanon

[thejudgingtrash]

11. “...did you just sniff me?” for percabeth pretty please 🙏🤍🤍🤍

Heya! I’m finally here to come back to this request 😄😄 It took me only a little bit in comparison to other requests, but I'm here!

Also since @percyheartsannabeth, @skaterannabeth and @not-optimistic-petrol-biscuit had asked about fluff. Here you go... Kinda? 😬 Anyway. Here's a monster sneak peek into may I introduce you to my beloved wife? 😋

It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to pump out 11k words. That's a record for a single session in one day (with like two breaks). And yes, that is still not the entire chapter. Here are roughly 9,2k for you to consume!

TW: alcohol, overbearing relatives not minding their own business, a tiny section talking about domestic abuse and Athena and Frederick Chase ain't shit but that's nothing new. Poseidon too, for once. Enjoy!

may I introduce you to my beloved wife?

(*absolutely not proof-read, my bad)

Annabeth sighed. You can do this. You can do this. You’ve already finished the week. Think about the money. Think about the move to California. Push through this day and next week, think about the money and the minute you’ll hand your termination in. She wanted to splash some water up her face, but the makeup that tinted her lips in a luscious rose and added some bronze to her high cheekbones was too expensive to be washed off and hastily reapplied.

It was pre-Dionysus Day, which meant it was merely the calm before the storm. The first sparkling sip of an impending disaster waiting to rollover the roomy Greek villa Percy forced her to stay in. Well not really forced. Forced and bribed her to stay in. That made it sound slightly better. Just think of the one-hundred seventy-five dollars he’s going to transfer into your bank account for your new start in California. I should renegotiate. California is also expensive. Make it two-hundred fifty thousand.

The tall blonde looked at her reflection in the mirror. A young woman full of life was the first thing she had seen in the morning but now she looked tired and annoyed, just how she felt. Something crashed in one of the dozens of rooms next to her and people laughed. Annabeth sighed again. It was the only thing she could do, otherwise she would scream like a banshee, making sure that at least Hermes and Prometheus would check her, if it wasn’t for Percy stuffing socks into her mouth to make her shut up before they got to her. The majority of his Greek relatives had been lovely if not terribly nosy and overbearing. It was the opposite of her family. His was warm and chaotic and for the most part welcoming. Hers? Cold, apathetic, disapproving of everything she did. She had no family in comparison, and neither would she want to compare this wholesome messy bunch to the cold-hearted Athena Pallas and the monster that was Friedrich Chase.

Annabeth respected Hera and Hestia, she definitely side-eyed Aphrodite who was cheating on her husband and she would definitely stay away from Zeus. Crossing paths with him occasionally in the New York office of Atlantic INC. was terrible, seeing him openly be flirty and loosen up during a forced trip was way worse.

This was a bad idea and I have a terrible feeling about this. The burgundy wrap dress that hugged her skin was soft and light but in the Thessalian heat it felt like a sticky cocoon caging her. She wasn’t a beautiful butterfly, ready to burst out and wow everyone. Neither was she a moth drawn to a flame. She was a bug that had been sprayed by Percy with a pesticide, wrapped in toxic chemicals which were slowly dissolving her body, piece by piece.

A knock shoved the horrendous image inside of her head aside. “Yes?” she asked with a firm voice. Too firm with a hint of annoyance, but she was not a professional actress and could not switch her emotions off as she pleased. She was a junior marketing manager for Christ’s sake. Not for much longer. Only two more months…

Percy opened the door. “Are you ready?“ he asked with his usual pleasant baritone reaching her ear.

He wore light linen pants that hugged his legs loosely and a light blue shirt with the first buttons opened up. She could see his defined chest and the swirls of black hair peeking through. The hair was styled into a disheveled curly mess which suited him way better than the gelled back corporate look and he forgot to trim his beard like the day before. Annabeth couldn’t deny what she saw – her tormentor was a very attractive man.

“Do you want to bail?” His sea-green eyes darkened a shade. Worry flashed through them.

Annabeth exhaled sharply for the last time. “I wish I could but then I’d leave you without a fiancé,” she smiled through the pain.

Her glance found her reflection again. The topknot was still intact, and a few strands carefully framed her heart-shaped face. She looked perfect on the outside and she wanted to commit manslaughter in the inside.

“Let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and stretched his hand out. It seemed like Percy was the one that would rather bail.

Annabeth took it without any complaint. She was the happy girlfriend soon-to-be-wife and holding hands was way better than being forced into kissing him during Sports Day. The Theodoropoulos family truly had planned activity after activity during those two weeks in winter.

“Oh!” Sally peeked into the bathroom and saw her son holding Annabeth’s hand.

“There you are! Is everything okay, mija?” she asked with her sweet Dominican accent and looked at Annabeth.

Annabeth automatically smiled back. Sally was the mother she never had, and it broke her heart crumble by crumble by the sheer charade Percy and she were forced to display for the next six days. Sally Jackson deserved the best. She certainly didn’t deserve being deceived and lied to by her terrible son and his tag-a-long coworker.

“Yes, Percy was just making sure we’re arriving on time.” Annabeth got on her toes and placed a soft kiss on Percy’s stubbled cheek. It tickled but by now she had gotten used to it.

He rolled his eyes, smiled at his mother, nonetheless. Sally’s eyes sparkled and she clapped, clutching her hands tightly. “You don’t know how proud you’re making me, mijo,” she then said teary-eyed.

“You finally found a great girl and she is standing next to you.” Sally wiped a tear away and the awful feeling that sat on Annabeth’s chest and made everything heavier, amplified by a thousand times.

This was way worse than being referred to as the woman that would bear him three to five children presuming with the first one sired on this current vacation by Ares. Yes, Annabeth wanted two children at max, but not definitely now. She was twenty-eight and in the prime of her life! Note: Percy would certainly not be the father of said two children. Unruly blond waves and a mischievous grin blitzed through her head. Pale blue eyes came back from the deepest pit of her memory. Luke. Fuck no, that was even worse than Percy. His betrayal… Annabeth tried to shake the memory off and focused on the ongoing situation in front of her.

Sally truly hoped her son found love and not a quick fling. Oh shit, Annabeth thought and looked up to Percy whose face expressed similar thoughts. His conscience nibbled and guilt flooded his body.

“Mamá,” Percy began and released Annabeth’s hand in order to grasp the older woman’s shoulder.

Sally brushed his large hands off. “No, no! Off you go! You younglings should be downstairs celebrating your reunion with the entire side of Poseidon’s family.”

Annabeth appreciated the fact that Sally was invited and flown out each winter holiday by the Theodoropoulos’. Despite having been divorced from Poseidon for over twenty years, she was still a popular and welcomed guest, not just because of her son’s attachment to the Greek side and his tied division of the Greek family company.

Sally gave each of them a last smile before entering the women’s bathroom. Percy exhaled and pinched his nose. After ten seconds he released the nose and looked back at Annabeth. “Ready?” he asked a final time. Annabeth nodded.

The loud singing, yelling and talking that had been muffled by the bathroom hit her by a tenfold. The place had all the Mamma Mia vibes without the fun singing four days ago. Not anymore, as drunk relatives hit up the shore with loud music and talked loudly in their Pontic Greek dialect.

As the couple descended the stairs and walked through the parlor, a new wave of guests arrived at the same time. Three people that have just entered early adulthood looked up to them. Two men, one blond with a stoic face and bronzed skin, the other was shorter with spiky black hair and a beautiful grin on his lips. The woman next to him was the tallest out of the trio and possessed a high ponytail that would leave Ariana Grande dying out of envy. The dyed lilac hair swung around and nearly reached the middle of her thighs, meaning the hair was even longer without its tight prison on top.

“Thanatos, Zagreus, Megaera!” greeted Percy and gave each one of them a rib crushing bear hug. They looked pleasantly surprised at seeing Percy being accompanied by a pretty woman his age. It seems like the proposal didn’t reach all of the ends of the Greek world.

They fell into a short conversation in Greek and Annabeth smiled politely next to Percy as she fell entirely out of place. The evil Duolingo owl didn’t prepare her for this experience. Neither did her mother bother teaching her at least their Athenian dialect properly. She could introduce herself in Greek, order a beer, say goodbye and that was it. Thank you, Athena. For nothing again.

“Oh, you must be Annabeth,” Megaera eyed her carefully and Annabeth had the feeling that she could split her open with her hands. Weirdly enough, Annabeth was kind of into it. Megaera wasn’t only as tall as Percy but she was clearly the one with the toughest workout regimen as she displayed her muscular legs and defined arms with a short cocktail dress only a few shades darker than her hair.

“Yes,” Annabeth squeaked. She nearly added a ma’am towards the end. Megaera cocked her dark eyebrow. She had an aura that demanded respect.

“Interesting to see the woman who captured Perseus’ heart. It seems that he did develop a good taste after all. Calypso was as pretty as the crescent moon flower but sadly as dull as his corny jokes are.” Megaera’s deep smirk was a stamp of approval as her eyes roamed all over Annabeth.

“Hey!” Percy interrupted and placed a firm hand on Annabeth’s waist, as if he was trying to mark his territory.

“You have your own toys right to your right,” he then added with a playful tone.

Megaera actually laughed and waved dismissively. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for more.” A clear offer which left Annabeth’s face turn into a fiery tomato red.

“Anyway, we have some catching up to do,” Thanatos proposed as Zagreus and he silently watched the conversation blossom. He sounded as reserved as he looked.

“Indeed,” Zagreus agreed, surprising Annabeth with a posh English accent. “Father will murder me if we miss out on his moussaka. It’s to die for you need to try it, Annabeth, at least before Hephaestus gets ahead of himself.”

Annabeth laughed. The Theodoropoulos did have their positives. “I will, Zagreus,” she nodded.

“Oh please, if aunt Sally gave her go for you to stay here, you’re as good as family. We’re Than, Zag and Meg for you,” Zagreus offered.

“Annabeth is already my nickname but thank you for the kind offer!”

The three new guests went on to join relatives and friends at the party which seemed to get more chaotic by each passing minute as the volume seemed to increase.

“My cousin Zagreus from my uncle Hades’ side,” Percy explained as the three went out of his sight.

“Are they friends? Or…”

“Pretty sure they’re polyamorous. You know, I don’t know, and I honestly don’t really care, I see Zag once every twelve months at max. Just don’t stick to Meg’s side for too long otherwise she’ll turn you into her fiancé.” Percy’s tone suggested that he was not joking.

“Oh.” Annabeth didn’t know what to think of it.

Percy closed his eyes as if he was making a silent prayer, before his sea-green met Annabeth’s light gray ones. She smelled like lemon with a hint of lavender, instead of roses like normally. Delicious. If it weren’t for the fact that it was Annabeth.

“So, listen. You know I’ve talked about Dionysus Day and how his birthday brings out the worst side of everyone.”

Annabeth nodded as Percy went on to explain.

“Pre-Dionysus Day is basically same with the only exception that my great-grandmother’s house is filled with the entire family. Yes, we’re expected to eat, drink, laugh, drink, dance, drink, reminisce on our past, drink, make fools out of ourselves in order for them to take blackmail pictures and drink some more, but no matter how much they want you to open up… try to control yourself. Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Annabeth’s stomach started to churn, and her knees slightly gave in. “Look, I’m truly sorry for the mess that I’ve caused,” Percy looked directly into her eyes and tried to ignore the rosy streaks across her flushed cheeks. “And my relatives can be overbearing. But if we manage to stick through this night and the next one tomorrow, we’re as good as done with playing games.”

“Fine,” Annabeth gritted through her teeth. She had agreed to the terms and condition. She didn’t need a reminder of the stupid decision she made two months ago.

“Let’s go.”

She placed her hand on the doorknob that separated the parlor from the huge living room. Percy followed her as she opened the door. A wave of laughter, wine, ouzo, discovered secrets, cigarettes, sweat and fun hit them.

“Oh wow, someone should open a window.” Percy suggested as he coughed. Luckily cousin Metis had the same idea. No, aunt Metis. Or was it Thetis? Why did Percy need to have so many relatives with similar names again?

“Oh, Annabeth, look at you!” Aphrodite had snuck up behind them and surprised the fake couple by hugging each of them and nearly spilling the expensive Greek vintage in her hand on Percy’s shirt. The red alcoholic liquid carelessly swirled in her glass and more than often seemed to want to escape from her clutch.

“Aphrodite, be careful!” Percy reminded her as she dug her fingers into his arm. Her nails were as fake and bought as was the bond between Annabeth and Percy.

“Oh, please cousin, you should learn how to loosen up!” She laughed, but it sounded more like the shrill sound a bird made when it got nearly hit by a car. The high pitch made Annabeth slightly frown.

“Take your girl upstairs and show her all the Zorbas moves you got!” She wiggled her badly overdrawn eyebrows.

Aphrodite had always been the poster child of perfection. She knew how to dress her curvaceous body the right way, she knew how to apply the perfect touches of makeup on her face and she was the most graceful being Annabeth had ever met. Seeing her so disheveled left the blonde American content. It showed that Aphrodite wasn’t one of the gods, she was a mortal mess like they all were. That, and it was kind of funny seeing the abrupt transition from oozing perfection to looking like a rough mess after a couple of glasses of wine.

“If you know what I mean, you two know what I mean, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy answered. Unfortunately, they did.

“That reminds me, this is such a pretty dress that you got!” Aphrodite’s eyes widened and she tugged at Annabeth’s sleeve that went slightly over her elbows. “Percy needs to bring me a couple of those the next time he visits. Oh wait! You’re about to marry, Annabeth can take me shopping. I want to visit New York next summer. When was your wedding again?”

Panic filled Annabeth she tried to stutter a lame excuse like they had done the entirety of the stay. Aphrodite’s brown eyes found something else to focus on in the meantime. Her hand went out to poke the tall blonde’s chest as she went on to pull on the thin fabric.

“You should show the men what you got! Free the girls!” Aphrodite yelled over the loud music, pushing Annabeth’s C cup to its limits. “Let Percy stand in the corner with that stupid frown, all jealous and depressed while you’re out on the hunt!”

Percy did not look amused especially since he tried to pull Annabeth away.

“Yeah, just like that!” Aphrodite’s glass pointed directly at his face as Annabeth tried to shove Aphrodite’s fickle fingers aside. “Oh, if I were just a little bit younger and not tied to your cousin…”

“You mean cousins,” Percy corrected and made a step backwards as Aphrodite’s dreamy and drunk dazed focus shifted from Annabeth to him.

“Aphrodite, leave Percy and his future wife alone,” Hera arrived to save the stressed couple and rolled her eyes. “Go harass Hephaestus and try to be a faithful wife for once in your life.”

She still looked like she had a massive stick shoved up her ass by the way she stood entirely straight next to them, but Annabeth appreciated the gesture. If Hera didn’t like Aphrodite much, Annabeth would rather join Team Hera than stand alone by the bleachers and under Aphrodite’s charmspeak. Aphrodite pouted and stomped with her feet twice as if she were a toddler and not a grown woman marching towards her forties. Then she stormed off and ran into the arms of her lover, nother husband to spite her mother-in-law and embarrass her even further.

“Malàka,” Hera cursed and lost her cool for one second, before clearing her throat and focusing on the already tired fake engaged couple in front of her. Not even Hera seemed to be averse from drinking a glass of wine or two. “You two definitely need a drink.”

Annabeth agreed with her for once.

She pointed at the bar behind her, which was managed by Dionysus and his wife Ariadne. The number of relatives ganging up on them and demanding new drinks was frightening. Surprisingly Dionysus kept his cool and shoved drinks in people’s hands at an impressive speed.

“Yeah, let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and took Annabeth’s hand again.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked him. She knew from Thalia that Percy rarely ever drank and that his family was to blame for most of it. Percy seemed stiffer and graver than usual as well. As much as she disliked his jokey nature and easy-going demeanor he displayed at work, she’d much rather have that Percy by her side right now. Dionysus Day and the day before seemed like it was hell on earth for him and walking through it each year must take a toll on him.

“Yeah, let’s just each grab a glass of wine. Let them be happy about me shoving this disgusting stuff down my throat.” He thanked Ariadne as she prepared two glasses of the same vintage Aphrodite seemed to have inhaled earlier.

“Thank you.” Annabeth took her glass and sniffed. The wine smelled sickly sweet with a hint of the bitterness that the fermentation process had left. The glass in her hand weighed surprisingly heavy, not because of the wine itself but because of the golden swirls decorating it. The glass transitioned from the crystal-clear transparency into a deep black. A lyre surrounded by a bigger laurel wreath decorated the middle section and a golden snake was wrapped around the stem. The golden rim gave it a nice finish.

“Into a fruitful night,” Percy darkly mumbled over the music. He was really not looking forward to it, which confused Annabeth immensely. She didn’t understand why he pushed himself through this if he really didn’t like the drinking activities. He surely had his reasons, hence her not starting a fight with him over it. It was his family and their tradition after all.

“Into a fruitful night,” Annabeth instead repeated.

Issuing a weird toast as well. Percy Jackson was clearly not a drinker. Their glasses clinked and each of them took a sip. Thankfully grandma Rhea made sure they were well-fed before the festivities began.

“Fuck,” Annabeth muttered. A fine vintage as well. Not as sweet as she thought, it left a hint of sweet cumin as the lingering aftertaste. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass, but she didn’t bother to care as she took another gulp. The wine was nearly finished. She slowly started to understand why ancient civilizations went crazy after this stuff.

As she looked at her so-called fiancé, she saw that his glass was already empty. A grimace rested on his face as well.

“Err, Percy?”

“What?��� The dark brooding look on his face was no more.

“Shouldn’t you take it easy?” Annabeth carefully asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I am,” he stated and cocked his head towards his cousin who was still busy playing the barkeeper but kept an overall watchful glimpse on the guests that flooded the gates.

“Dionysus saw me drink. Most importantly he saw us have a drink. That should be enough for me, but if you want some more, be my guest.” He shrugged.

Annabeth felt that she should probably drag his mopey ass out of the party, but it was way too early to leave. “Fine,” she said and asked Ariadne for a refill. Annabeth went in for another long sip. She should definitely stock her wine cabinet once she was back at her shitty apartment. Before the glass reached her lips again, Hermes snatched it away and chugged the remaining wine.

“Hermes, what the hell?!” Ariadne grabbed the glass and pushed her husband’s cousin away. The bored postman was back with his shenanigans.

“My bad, dear wifey, but I’m on a mission here to abduct sweet Annabeth,” Hermes winked and placed his hands around Annabeth’s shoulders.

“What are you up to?” Out of all of the relatives she’s met so far, Annabeth was convinced that everything Zeus had ever sired was a mistake. Zeus himself was a mistake.

“Can you stop being German and boring for once?” he joked. Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. She did not like this one bit. She turned her head around and saw that Percy had been pulled into a conversation by Hypnos and Morpheus. He had completely forgotten about her. Great.

Hermes guided her through the crowd, towards the middle of the room. They had to dodge chairs, drunk relatives, a sofa, chatty relatives, the coffee table and dancing relatives before they made it.

“There she is!” greeted Achilles the confused marketing manager.

Paris, Helen, Patroclus, Hermes and Achilles stood in a circle around a table. Dozens of shots of all sorts of colors were displayed. Annabeth had a terrible feeling about this.

“What is this and why are you pulling me into this?” Annabeth asked and did not like the mischievous grin they all shared. She wanted to go back home and cuddle with Daedalus on her sofa and push his cat ass out of the way before the next steamy Outlander scene hit the screen. Yes, Annabeth was that much of a single that seeing some on-screen action was the best she could get. She hoped that the mangy cat didn’t bother Thalia all too much while she was staying in Greece. She owed her so much already.

“Well, I stayed in your country,” Paris started. “And they have a weird tradition with ouzo. They don’t drink it the way we do, watered down and slowly at lunch and what not…”

Annabeth was still American for the most part and had nothing to do with Germany. The last time she stayed there was nearly thirteen years ago. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Germany. Friedrich Chase lived in Germany. And she fucking hated Friedrich Chase. Therefore, she hated Germany. Things that would never change. Okay, Hamburg was a cool city and she was glad her father moved to Cologne. Should she feel the urge to travel back to Germany for a week or less, she’d go to Hamburg, take ten thousand pictures, and post them on Instagram the minute before she was boarding her flight back to New York. Helping her to enrage her stupid father was all Germany had to offer.

“Germans do ouzo shots,” Patroclus cut to the chase. “And since you’re the newest member of our family…”

“And German!” Paris and Hermes added simultaneously.

“We’ve decided to play this little game,” Achilles added.

“What’s the name of the game?” Annabeth asked. She was only slightly curious. Emphasis on slightly.

“Last man standing. Oh sorry, ladies. Last person standing,” Hermes corrected himself as he placed four shots in front of each person. That was way too much hard liquor to handle. But if she did Jägermeister bombs in her sophomore year of college without any issues, this should be fairly easy.

“What are the rules?” They all looked at her in silence. No rules. No prize. Just drink.

“Oh wow.” The urge to roll her eyes and walk off came back with a force.

“I think I’m going to pass,” Annabeth said and already turned to her right.

“Why?” Helen asked innocently. “Need your man to look after you? The one who’s having an amazing time back there with his third glass of wine?”

Foul game. Annabeth’s head shot to the right. Helen was right. Percy was laughing and looked like he was having a great time chatting with Oceanus and his wife Tethys. Tethys refilled his glass as her husband and Percy broke into laughter once again.

If that’s the case…

“Fuck it, I’m in,” Annabeth agreed. She swallowed the bait and she knew it. There was no reason why she should feel upset about Percy opening up all of a sudden. He desperately needed it. Why she wished to be a part of that, Annabeth did not know.

“Great!” Helen threw her brown mane over her shoulders and grabbed the first glass.

“Για μας!” they all yelled and chugged the liquor. Gia mas, the Greek toast, was repeated every time and it seemed to brighten the mood, despite resting heavily on Annabeth’s stomach. Her college days were over, but she was glad she resisted coughing repeatedly.

Patroclus clutched his stomach after the second shot, Helen ran out after the third, Paris and Achilles were laughing maniacally after the fourth and Hermes mysteriously disappeared after the first one. Annabeth was the last person standing. She placed the crystalized shot glass back on the table and examined the messes around her. The only thing that had happened to her, were that more golden locks escaped from her bun and her lipstick needed some reapplying as she left marks on each glass.

Annabeth tried to take a step away from the table and felt how the world slightly shifted around her. The fact that she would curse and hate herself for her behavior in just six hours, was something drunk Annabeth gladly put aside. The headaches that definitely would haunt her for the rest of the trip didn’t matter, she won and that was all she cared about.

“Hell yeah!” she yelled as all inhibition faded away, leaving pure and raw life force behind. Unbeknownst to her, Annabeth had moved right into the circle of dancers.

“Perseus, get your bride before she breaks her legs!” someone laughed. Was it Iapetus? Or was it Hyperion? Who even cared at that point?

The next two hours were a blurred mess. A blackout slowly crept through her mind, leaving foggy memories behind. Annabeth felt how she was dancing with people and how people were laughing. Were they laughing at her or with her? Did it really matter? Why was her hair repeatedly slapping her face, didn’t she tie it up?

She danced with different people, men and women. She really hoped that the guy that looked like a naked Danny DeVito with longer black hair was not Zeus who had lost his shirt and pants. Who was the guy with the sea-green eyes again? Why was he clapping and laughing whenever she was busting a move next to Hermes? Was he important? Why did he remind her of work? The shots might have been a short-sighted idea after one and a half glasses of wine. She probably overestimated the amount of food she had consumed at dinner prior. Wasn’t she supposed to try someone’s moussaka?

“There you are! Ares, stop dancing with her for once. We’re about to leave.”

Ugh. Ares. Not Zeus, but still yucky.

Sea-green eyes. Percy, of course. How could she have forgotten the asshole that brought her into this whole mess? He seemed fairly sober, didn’t he have a glass or three of wine? Annabeth was certain, she’d be able to drink him under the table. His height and his build might put him at an advantage, but if he wasn’t used to drinking, she might have a fair shot.

A rock song was the next song that appeared. Percy wanted to drag Annabeth off the dance floor.

“Oh no!” Aphrodite intervened with a shrill screech. “Give the two lovers some room to show each other affection!”

Hera actually raised her glass for once to show that she actually agreed with one of Aphrodite’s wild ideas. Someone fumbled with the playlist and a Greek slow jam roared through the old speakers.

“Are you guys fucking serious?” Percy muttered under his breath. But roughly eighty pairs of eyes were all but watching the soon-to-be betrothed and waited for a romantic dance which reminded Percy more of the horrors that the eight-grade dance was.

Annabeth drunkenly hiccupped and looked at him in surprise as she felt one of his hands around her waist and the other one taking her hand. They rocked as if it was the final dance at prom. Annabeth barely remembered prom. Oh right. Her mother had forbidden her from going. She never attended prom.

A casual glimpse through the crowd showed her that people were actually filming this nonsense and some women were actually cooing. Did… did they seriously think this back and forth with sweaty clothes on was romantic? Her eyes found Percy’s again.

“So…” he began.

“So…” she repeated.

“Careful!” he warned her before twirling her through the tight circle. People screamed and applauded. A camera flash blitzed through the darkness twice.

“Oof,” Annabeth groaned. Her stomach and equilibrium did not appreciate that sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again,” Percy swore. The rocking motion made both of them sleepy. Annabeth suppressed a yawn, rested her head on his shoulder. Percy could make the perfect comfy bed, if he wanted to.

Percy, sensing that people were awaiting some action from either of them, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up. Annabeth’s eyes widened. Is he going to kiss me in front of them? Again? her panicked brain asked. She was turned into stone, not by Percy’s distant cousin Medusa who had eaten most of the truffles, but by the tenderness of his actions. He was one solid actor.

Percy placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before moving on to a temple. Annabeth blushed and buried her heated face in his chest as he released her. Intimate, soft and sweet. The screaming relatives disrupted their comfortable silence yet again. The slow song came to an end and the next upbeat one invited everyone back to the dance floor. Annabeth released herself from Percy’s tight embrace and just bolted. Damned be nausea. A wave of coldness hit her. She felt something she didn’t like the minute Percy had softly kissed and soberness woke her at a start. What was it? Anger? Disappointment? Longing? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know.

“Annabeth!” Percy shouted, but the amount of people standing in his way made it more difficult for him to keep up with her. His hand brushed over his own lips.

Annabeth opened and closed doors left and right. The kitchen, the dining room, the smoking room. She hasted through the first floor until she found another lost soul in the fireplace room. Why the villa had a fireplace room in the first place, she did not know. It had been super-hot the entire time but what Annabeth understood as heat and what native Greeks deemed as hot temperatures didn’t have to correlate.

Great-grandmother Gaia’s humming faded away. The eldest of the Theodoropoulos looked up from the pair of socks she was knitting. When she came to find out the intruder was Annabeth, joy spread over her face.

“Come, come!” The broken English that she softly spoke reminded Annabeth of her own grandmother. She hadn’t seen Elsbeth Lilienthal-Chase since she had left Germany. And since her mother didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, she didn’t have a phone number to reach her with. The only way would be through that asshole Friedrich Chase, and the only time she’d willingly let someone contact that man was if she had been six feet under and he would be forced to show up for one important family event for once.

“I was unable to sleep. Parties aren’t something for me. I’m too old and boring for my children and their children,” Gaia sighed as Annabeth took a seat on the green sofa next to the light blue armchair. All of the cushioning seemed to have been made by Gaia as the socks had the same pattern as the pillow that Annabeth leaned against. Balls of wool surrounded the older woman as if she sat on a field of fresh tulips.

“Drink, drink! You need water. I’m pretty sure you danced a lot.”

Annabeth kindly took the offer, grabbed the carafe and poured herself a little bit of water into a small glass. The water was surprisingly cold and refreshing.

“My children deem me crazy,” Gaia continued. “The war with the ottomans. Deportation. Fleeing and seeing death everywhere. Losing my father in the chaos. Then the big world war after that twenty years later. They don’t want to listen to the same stories. They only want to have fun. So, they sent me away.”

Annabeth felt terrible for the old lady. It looked like she had been through hell and back in her youth. She didn’t look like she needed much, only someone to listen to her.

“I won’t bore you much,” promised Gaia.

Gaia’s tanned leathery hands continued working on the little socks. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, dearie. We have plenty of acetaminophen and other hangover remedies. Tomorrow will be even worse, because Dionysus wants to celebrate his birthday with even more wine,” the old woman laughed, and her green eyes twinkled full of life.

“I also was young once…”

The two sat in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Gaia’s humming or Annabeth refilling her glass of water.

“So,” Gaia began.

“So?” repeated Annabeth.

“You are the woman that tamed my little Perseus,” the older woman grinned.

Oh no.

Annabeth had a lump in her throat and drinking water to solve it, didn’t work. She wasn’t just lying to Zeus and his wife. She was lying to an entire clan, from the youngest to the oldest members. What Percy and she were doing wasn’t right, neither was it fair. Sure, Percy’s shitty uncle didn’t help much by forcing him to marry the next person, but did the rest of the family deserve to be deceived as well? No, they didn’t, and that truth rested heavily on Annabeth’s narrow shoulders.

The fact that Gaia looked so much like her great-grandson was crazy. They possessed the exact same shade of sea-green. It was passed onto Rhea, Percy’s grandmother, and then Poseidon, Percy’s fucked up father. Always full of intelligence and calculation. Shifting easily from delighted and full of life to the crashing anger of a storm. Power and knowledge were key features of Gaia’s eyes.

“How did you meet my sweet Perseus again?” Gaia innocently asked but Annabeth knew that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind her question.

“At work,” she honestly answered, and Gaia smiled. The old lady was able to sense the truth.

“He’s not my direct boss, but we run into each other a lot. And we hated each other from the moment we saw each other.” Annabeth remembered how she accidentally spilled her hot coffee all over his shirt. She had been public enemy number one from then on.

“He’s an excellent boss, as much as I hate to admit it. He knows his ways around and is passionate about the ocean and its inhabitants. Definitely more passionate than me, I’m just there for the money. He actually wants to make a difference. And he’s extremely annoying, might I add.”

Gaia burst into laughter and needed a minute to calm down. Annabeth cracked a toothy grin. “Ah yes, I can see how you fell in love with him.”

Doom. Uneasiness. Discomfort. The lump in Annabeth’s throat grew bigger and bigger. Why was her vision so blurry all of a sudden? She looked down at her dress. Dark dots appeared. More sprinkled across her lap as Annabeth realized she was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabeth sniffled. “I… Percy… I…”

Gaia put her knitting utensils aside and set herself upright in the armchair. “Oh no, what is going on, Annabeth?”

The calming hand on her back did not help the young professional at all. No, Gaia’s honesty and curiosity made it way worse.

“Percy and I… we’re not engaged. We did it because Zeus-” Annabeth tried to confess, but Gaia brushed her off.

“It’s okay, Annabeth. I know,” the old woman smiled.

The tears that smeared her foundation or rather what was left of it ceased to fall. “You what?!”

Shock widened Annabeth’s light gray eyes.

“I knew from the minute you stepped into my house. I’m pretty sure Rhea knows as well.”

Annabeth’s jaw fell open. “B-but how?!” she stuttered and felt like an utter and complete idiot. The first few days had been rough and difficult, but now she thought that Percy and she conveyed the illusion of being a happy couple.

“You were scared of everything including him the minute you arrived,” Gaia warmly smiled. The infectious warm smile of a grandma looking out for her little chicks. Was Annabeth now one of them?

“I knew something was off with that sudden engagement of yours with the way you two behaved. Either you were pregnant, or it was a ruse. Since you are heavily drinking and paper thin, it was clear that there was no pregnancy. You young people truly don’t eat enough anymore,” Gaia shrugged, patted Annabeth’s knee and went back to knitting the sock.

“But now… it all makes sense. You do feel something for each other. Even if you are blind to it for now.” She continued to hum. “I just hope that my dear Perseus will be the young and carefree boy he was all those years ago one day again. And I do believe that you are the key in finding him hidden underneath all those layers and walls he had put up due to his father.”

Annabeth didn’t even close her mouth during the elder’s monologue. Did Gaia seriously connote that she… that Annabeth Chase… might feel something for her soon-to-be boss? Madness. Absolute madness. She took everything she had thought of the friendly old woman in front of her back. Maybe her relatives did have a point, when they decided to brush Gaia off due to her old age.

Annabeth? And feeling something for Percy? If that something was hatred and the utmost rage, absolutely yes. But… anything else? She would receive a hefty sum on her bank account and would put in her two weeks the minute she found a better job in California.

“You know… there is a tale I’d like to tell about men.”

And Annabeth would prefer to place the glass back on the table, throw the heels away, storm out and run to the next airport.

“They are stupid vapid creatures,” Gaia carried on.

Annabeth snorted behind her glass. “That is certainly true,” she agreed and earned an honest grin from Gaia.

“My dear husband Ouranos with whom I had all of my dear children decided one day that one woman was not enough. And that twelve children were not enough.”

Twelve children?! Annabeth's womb just twisted and turned in protest. The shocked expression on Annabeth’s face made Gaia chortle loudly.

“Oh yes, back in my day we were all very fruitful,” Gaia affirmed.

“That sounds horrible,” Annabeth interjected.

“Oh, only the birth part and the eighteen years after it,” the older woman dismissed her which made Annabeth in turn laugh again.

“My father was a farmer and he had one piece of advice: never let someone toy with you. You are not a doll; you are a person with morals and dignity, a person with feelings and dignity. Let no one, especially not a man, treat you like a commodity or something to kick around. Well… when dear Ouranos left me and sought our neighbor with bigger breasts… I taught him that lesson. And I did so with my father’s trusted knife that I hung on the wall afterwards.”

There was no knife displayed on the wall. It was a fucking scythe. Large, frightening, brutal. A golden great long sickle with jagged teeth rested on the wall as if it were ready to cut you up into one thousand pieces. Was there really dried blood stuck on the teeth or was Annabeth’s drunken mind making things up?

“The minute our youngest turned eighteen he took off and was never seen again. And now, should a person, in that case my Perseus, not know how to treat you properly, you know what to do,” Gaia advised and took a sip out of her own glass.

“Uh… you mean threaten to cut his genitals off with a large and sharp family heirloom?” Annabeth’s eyes widened again.

“No, dearie…” Gaia gave it some thought. “Well maybe so, dearie,” she then went on. That made Annabeth chuckle again.

“But demand absolute respect from him. Don’t ask him for it. Demand it. I don’t know how but he has dragged you into our family and expects you to play the perfect fiancé. This will eventually blow up in his face and he will drag you along with him. Teach him a lesson, however.”

“You know what? I will!” With Gaia’s official blessing, Annabeth was all smiles and scheming new plots. If the head of the family gave her the approval of kicking Percy’s ass, she definitely would.

Steps echoed in the fireplace room and Annabeth and Gaia’s heads turned to greet the intruder. They didn’t even realize the door opened and closed again.

Gaia’s younger twin who still had some black streaks in the braids marched into the hall, curious about what the two women in front of her were previously talking about. Gaia’s youngest daughter Rhea had joined them. The large blue floral dress made her seem like she never left the late 1960s and the two long braids only added to that sentiment.

“Mamá, what is going on? By the way Percy is looking for you, Annabeth,” Rhea informed her grandson’s alleged fiancé before taking a seat in front of her and grabbing one of the many balls of yarn in front of her mother. Rhea then went on to play with it as if she was a six-year old.

“Oh no, Rhea, Annabeth and I were just chatting about love and life,” Gaia batted her eyelashes.

“You see, I gave Rhea the same advice about her disgraceful husband when he went out to seek another woman.”

Rhea rolled her eyes behind the large pentagonally glasses. “You and your stories about the scythe, mother,” she sighed.

“I have to make sure the younger generation knows!” Gaia huffed. “I won’t be here for much longer and then-”

“We'll regret all the things we’ve said and done to you, I know mamá, you have been telling me this since I was four years old and spilled my apple juice,” Rhea completed her mother’s sentence.

Rhea’s attention shifted to the smiling blonde in front of her. She grew to like Percy’s fiancé. She had a fire within herself and a backbone, all great things to handle a Theodoropoulos man.

“But my mother is right when she says that the scythe is a trusted tool. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades did scare Kronos with it after he tried some foul things with their sisters. Treated them worse. Did overall horrible things. He never wanted daughters, only sons. Didn’t seem to accept the fact that it was out of my hand.” Rhea squished the ball of light blue yarn in her hand.

“My children were always looking out for me and I will be forever grateful for them. I do hope that you will have the same feelings and love for your children.” It was clear who their father was supposed to be.

“Yes, I hope so as well,” Annabeth squeaked. Did it get hotter in here all of a sudden?

The door opened, and a worried Percy stepped into the fireplace room. “Oh, there you are,” he sighed as he immediately sighted Annabeth’s blonde unruly curls. He had been running from the basement all the way to the roof searching for her. Relief washed over his face like some shower gel from a cheap commercial. Only then did he realize that Annabeth had been cornered by both his nosy grandmother and his even nosier great-grandmother.

“Whatever they’ve been telling you, it’s a lie, it’s wrong and it never happened!” he warned her as he took a seat right next to her.

“Oh please, relax,” Rhea rolled her eyes and threw the wool at her grandson. “We have been talking about mamá’s scythe.”

“Hey!” both Percy and Gaia complained. At least they hadn’t dished out embarrassing stories of him taking off in diapers at night.

“This is expensive! You young people show no respect towards others' belongings,” Gaia cursed.

Annabeth took the blue yarn and placed it back on top of the pyramid of other colors.

“Thank you!” Gaia smiled before she focused on finishing the sock.

“You’ve found your fiancé, Perseus. Now go off back to celebrate and let us old people reminisce about the past and talk.” Rhea lazily waved at them whilst Gaia didn’t even look up from her craft.

“We will,” Percy said while getting up and casually dragging Annabeth along. He kissed both Gaia and Rhea on the cheek, Annabeth threw a hasty “See you in the morning!” over her shoulder before the couple left.

“Are you okay?” Percy asked as he pulled Annabeth aside for a small breather.

She nodded. “It’s just a bit overwhelming with the amount of people that either want to take pictures of us, hope I remember when their youngest kid’s birthday is, or they tell me they hope we have our first baby preferably in less than a year.”

Percy blushed. He didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, men are mostly left out of the baby talk until their mother’s saw that their best friend’s children had their first grandbaby. He truly didn’t have any intention of having a child before the age of forty. He had to save a business from his damned uncle, run and manage said business and preferably find a woman he tolerated enough to marry before he could even think of children.

Percy apologized again. “One week,” he promised her.

“One week,” Annabeth repeated and nodded.

“We’re going in, you’ve missed the high of the party with your talk with my yai yai, but that’s perfectly fine. The first have already left, let’s just mingle for ten minutes or so before we can-”

The door flung open. “There they are!” yelled Hermes who was followed by Zephyrus and Hercules.

None of them had any intention of letting the party stop before five in the morning. It was merely two. The minute Hermes had his sights on Annabeth, he knew that he had found his best drinking buddy aside from Dionysus himself. Oh no, Annabeth thought and rightfully so.

The minutes of calmness and rest next to Gaia did their wonders because Percy and she were thrust back into the party at full force. She didn’t exactly remember when the blackout happened, but it was roughly thirty minutes later. She was drinking, she was dancing, she was completely making a fool out of herself. The hair? A mess. Annabeth herself? Don’t even think about it. She had been dancing with Hermes and Patroclus, Aphrodite accidentally stepped on her foot one time when Ares approached her.

Percy broke his own promise and accepted a fourth glass of wine from Dionysus who insisted on it. That glass was his doom. The last droplet touched his tongue and his world turned into a flashy mist, his consciousness was broken into pieces, fragmented and sprinkled across the floor. Where he was, when he was and who he was were things he couldn’t remember. The only thing that popped up in his mind were waves of solid gold. Was it hair? Could hair truly move like that and possess that texture? And a whiff of lemon with a hint of lavender crawled up his nose. It was an odd combination, but it felt safe and like home. He liked this smell. Where did he smell this before?

Percy didn’t care, he had other matters to attend to. The first thing on the docket was finding the bathroom, he had drunk way too much. The house had weird rules in regard to bathrooms. Was it the left side or the right side that the young men could use? Why did his uncle Hades have to break two sinks in a span of a week when he was sixteen again? Why were women and others allowed to do whatever they wanted? His great-grandma and her weird plans were always set to make him fail somehow. Things that she had thought of decades ago still bore fruit today.

Percy stumbled upstairs and turned right and prayed the doors he was opening were empty bathrooms and not relatives making out. That was just what he needed. The first door he opened was of his great-uncle Oceanus and Tethys who had a face mask on her face and pink curlers up her hair. At least the old people still knew how to behave. He hoped his mother had left the party hours ago. He apologized and closed the door. The next one was an empty bedroom, his even maybe. No, his bedroom was on an entirely different floor. Or was it?

The next bedroom was closed off thank god, but from the sounds on the inside it seemed like cousin Eos and her newest catch Orion had some fun. Disgusting, Percy thought before he moved on. The next door was what he was looking for. A bathroom. Lit up, clean and empty. Empty if it wasn’t for this one woman who was clutching the brims of the polished sink. She was tall, the golden hair equaled a rat nest and her red dress seemed to have witnessed a lot.

“Ugh,” she muttered and looked into the mirror. Her eyes found his immediately.

“Percy?” she turned around.

Oh right. He was Percy Jackson, thirty-one, single, hopefully the new CEO of Atlantic INC., he had a fantastic apartment in the Upper East Side with an amazing view and he was in Greece to impress his family with his fake fiancé in order to secure his father’s legacy. His fake fiancé being Annabeth Chase, a woman he loathed, had to pay a little hush money and hoped would leave the company fairly soon after.

“You’re in the men’s restroom,” Percy then stated.

Annabeth looked around. No, it was not the same bathroom she used in the morning. Oh yeah, Gaia’s weird bathroom rules.

“Honestly who cares?” the junior marketing manager complained. “A toilet’s a toilet, no matter who uses it.”

Percy shrugged. Annabeth had a point but it wasn’t their house so they couldn’t dictate the rules.

“I wanted to retouch my makeup, but I didn’t find my makeup bag.” She walked steadily to Percy, but it was clear to both of them that she had her fair amount of shots in her system.

“Yeah, it’s probably in the other bathroom. Wait, let me use the bathroom for a second and then we can head back to our room and you can look for your makeup.”

Annabeth nodded and waited on the outside while Percy was tending his business. After drying his hands, he opened the door and found Annabeth yawning in front of one of his yai yai’s paintings. It showed the scythe from the fireplace.

“In all honesty, your great-grandmother is an amazing woman. I admire her. Showing kindness and strength each day. How old is she?”

“Turning 106 next October,” Percy smiled at her. “She always said she wanted to live long enough to see her favorite descendants find their own happiness, whatever it may be.”

The softness in his voice made Annabeth’s heart ache. She turned her head back to the painting. She was a nobody. She had no family, no traditions she could upkeep. She didn’t even have a steady relationship in the past five years. Fucking Luke Castellan. He also had to take that from her as well. Make her suffer. That’s what Athena, Friedrich and Luke all thought at the same time. And they all had nearly reached their wicked goal if it hadn’t been for her stubbornness and will to eventually blossom into something else. The first step towards that something else resided within her move to California. She wanted to leave everything and everyone behind and start a new life, somewhere where no one knew her.

A thumb brushed over her cheek. Annabeth looked up to Percy. She hadn’t even realized she was sobbing again.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” Percy assured her. His hands found her sides, pulling her into a soft hug.

A true fiancé level hug. Annabeth had never felt that comfortable within a man’s reach. Percy might have been an awful and annoying coworker, but he truly cared about his fellow people. The way they slowly rocked and kept hugging each other reminded her of the school dance work they had put on the floor earlier. But this time it was real. This time there was no one taking pictures or yelling into their ears, or the demand to see a kiss.

Annabeth rested her face in his chest and Percy leaned his head on hers. It was like they had been made for each other. A welcoming scent greeted Percy. Lemon and lavender. The person stuck in Percy’s crumbled mind had been Annabeth. She was his anchor in the havoc his relatives had created in such a short time. He took a deeper breath. It felt reassuring.

“Did you just sniff me?” Annabeth laughed as she pulled away from him.

“You do smell good!” he defended himself with a stupid grin on his mouth.

“Oh, wait you’re super drunk,” she giggled again as she saw his widened pupils that had pushed the darkened sea-green iris away.

“Well, look at you,” he retorted.

They looked at each other. Aside from the bumping music and the noises people made downstairs it had been completely silent. He missed her warmth; she missed his comfort. Neither would have guessed that a simple embrace could offer so much. Neither would have thought they would take it to the next step within a split second.

One last look. A last time sea-green and light-gray met before each set of eyes closed and their lips met with a brutal force in the middle. Their teeth clacked but it didn’t matter to them. What mattered now, was the moment. Forgotten was the alcohol, forgotten were the troubles of past, present and future. Forgotten were the friends and relatives in the building and back in New York.

So... what do you think? 😄 Like I said, this is not the entire chapter 🤷🏾‍♀️ I honestly feel bad for cutting the chapter off because it's really getting more interesting from that point on 💁🏾‍♀️ I'll probably continue working on this once I've published the next act of The Fool 🥳

Also Greek people, if something seems off with this (aside from random English at times lol) hit me up, I definitely have to do more research!

[withlovefromolympus]

hello! favorite deity and pairing (whether romantic or platonic)? 💖

(i think you're fav pairing is heph/dite, but who knows?)

Hi omg I’m so excited to answer this!! I love all the deities pretty equally tbh! (Aphrodite might be a favorite, she’s just so cute *cries*)

As for fave pairing… your guess is right! Oh my god is it that obvious?? Is it because of my pinned… If so, that’s a little embarrassing since I’ve only been here for two weeks but yesss I think they’re so cute together 🥺 I also ship Ares & Aphrodite btw…I just love these two more… i don’t want to be obnoxious and make it a whole big deal on one post, but can I make it a whole big deal?? I really do love unconventional couples — don’t many people? isn’t that part of why Hades and Persephone are so popular as a couple?? — like c’mon: the feisty, dramatic, emotional, and bright-eyed goddess of love with the serious, socially-awkward, calm, hard-working god of fire?

He loves her not because of her looks — he personally understands that looks aren’t all to a person — but because he sees that her heart is so big and loves how she spreads love into the world. He doesn’t mind her larger-than-life personality at all and wants to hear her ideas/takes her seriously, unlike many of the other gods, and thinks it’s adorable how she likes pretty little things…he tries his best to give her those things- Her outer and inner beauty inspires him (she’s his biggest muse that way) and that’s a big part of why the items he creates are all beautiful? The idea of what his life would be like didn’t originally have her in it because he couldn’t fathom being in the presence of / worthy of someone so flawless, but he soon couldn’t imagine life without her laughter and smile, and even after a thousand years of marriage his heart still beats faster from just being around her than it ever has from the exertions of his labor…

And she loves him (she’s not as shallow as everyone says she is!) not because she pities his deformities/looks/outcast status, but because she admires the outpour of immense passion and dedication he puts in his work. She’s happy to have found someone who doesn’t mind her short temper and mood swings, and if anything, he loves her all the more for keeping his life interesting. and he’s a little rough on the outside and not the easiest on the eyes, sure, but but he’s gentle and thoughtful and kind and slow to anger, and while not the most skillful of lovers, he’s great with his hands (of course he is, he’s the greatest blacksmith in all of history), and she has to laugh when he kisses her neck or stomach because his beard tickles her soft skin. And shit, Ares is strong, but working all day in a forge will get you muscles too hmm

Ideally, they love one another very much, and he understands her innate inability to sleep with only one person, so they have an open marriage. I like to imagine that she’s the sunshine into his soul and he’s her steady constant in a world full of constant change, a team sharing a bond nobody saw coming or thought was possible, but love works funny that way :)

[smndragon]

GODS AND HOW THEY AFFECT PEOPLE PT 2

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED IM SO TIRED

Okay, so we established this is a possibility that they associate and gift their talents and eyes to people living. If you haven't seen that post it's on my master list/pinned post.

Gotta thank @i-would-marry-thunderhead though they didn't try they helped me find a missing piece on what I was looking for.

More thanks to @medusa12346 and @tulatodivine for helping me find the click to read more thing, I'm new so😶

It's not random. As planets rule zodiacs, it's know some gods rule them, and it's not just planets as not all mythology and religion is based on planetary stuff. For example, if Ares rules mars and Mars rules Aries. People with Aries in their chart are gifted some of the small things Ares has.

So here are the planets and what they rule along with some things the gods may gift you Greek and Roman style. If you would like other gods please ask I'm not well versed in many others it's been a while since I've researched.

Links (minor searching sorry it's late I also may have to finish readings tommorow though I do have to go somewhere so sorry): Wikipedia gods and planets ruling with this link there is also more religions and gods with planets so if you're interested look into it.

More on the planets and gods in longer versions

What zodiacs the planets rule

Let me clarify Wikipedia is not always trustworthy but my research will be short tonight.

Preferably they will be within the big 3 but there are also minor things to look into I can't remember all of a sudden I REMEMBER

Basically depending on if it's the sun, moon, or ascendant. These emotions could come out at certain times or moments

SUN:

Apollo seems to be talked about with the sun but it also looked like Helios was the main with Apollo helping out at times or more often so they'll both be here ig: like said they rule the sun and the sun rules Leo (guessed it lol ily guys) some gist given to you Leo charted people you may be gifted with the ability to partially know if something is a 'yes or no' you may get deja Vu at times as signs from Apollo. You are also of course gifted with the ability to look good in gold. Other things could be his beauty, tanned skin, gut senses, nice legs, running and etc I can't remember

From Helios you may be gifted with good sight and vision, strong feet I feel idk?, And so far strong connection to growing things (will maybe add more if found)

OKAY this is gonna be a while.

MOON:

Artemis and Selene (of course her) rule over the moon which rules over Cancer. Possible talents and gifts are animal connections, animal eyes watching over you as companions, medical knowledge, natural medicines also, Excellence in athletics Kirk archery and stuff to do with jumping.

Selene gifts you oohhh it's possible you could slide some Helios gifts here to because they're siblings apparently. I see youth, strong arms, strength (not overboard remember), elegant style in clothing, and the moons watch during the night.

To clarify, there also things to think of like planet aspects and fuck the numbers the tilt or some shit uhyy yeah that will tell how strong these abilities may be.

MERCURY: all this got deleted guys ughhh

Hermes rules mercury which is both surprising and not. Mercury rules Gemini and Virgo (who is also associated with Chiron). Possible gifts include running, determination, medium abilities (determined by what I stayed above also on strength), probably funny ass jokes. Fly, you're just gonna be fly af. Hermes was a very important god to me, he also signifies glory, domination, and success full filled to me so yeah. The ability to soother the people around you with either your voice or your touch, clear or nice voice.

VENUS: WHY ARE THERE 3 HERE?!!??!? I wanted to include the goddess Venus but we'll see😭

Aphrodite rules Venus understandably, Venus rules Taurus and Libra I believe. Possible talents and gifts are of course beauty, loved eyes, this so kind weird but musical talent, telepathy (little), birds as helpers (as in messengers to the clouds or many realms), possible skill for design.

I saw a name called cypris but I'm not sure that's true I looked into it just a bit and found someone named Cypress I don't know if they're related but I believe it's possible? Other names are Cyparissus or Kyparissos. They were liked or loved by Apollo. It's not big but what I read was interesting.

There was also a Cytherea, this was probably an alias or second name given or that of Aphrodite, knowing this there was also a place called Cyprus which leads me to believe Cypris was another alias or typo.

MARS:

As talked about before. Most of us know they rules over Mars, mars rules over Aries. Possible gifts could include determination (he may have been a little cowardly which makes sense as an Aries sun with my shyness), strength, talent in art or drawing idk why I just feel that, piano (also applies to Sagittarius ppl honestly), understanding languages also possibly? Crafty with tools and objects, tactic smart in small ways.

JUPITER:

I saw the name Dias which I wasn't sure on, Dias I believe is another alias and modern name for Zeus. Zeus rules Jupiter and Jupiter rules Sagittarius so thats also no surprise. Gifts and talents may be swimming, science, young literature and old, an eye for good things, blessings through touch (more on a topic I'll bring up later not strong here), dancing, hunting, generosity, a promise of children. I feel many people with Zeus or Ares in their chart may have been accused as witches in those centuries. (Random) that'd all I get right now

FOUR MORE

SATURN:

It said Cronus, I knew him as chronos (hit chronological order) which may have been wrong. He can go by that cronos, or kronos. He rules Saturn and Saturn rules Capricorn which also is understandable with relations between them. Talents and gifts may include: I feel like y'all may have thought you were telekinetic when you were younger💀, I see ginger hair here also, sticky fingers (stealth), time control (as in good with keeping time on track), perception of lies (the man was fooled right? True but I feel it's still smth small), faithfulness (also crazy uh), a gift of great smell, good taste in food choices, I feel like he raised a bunch of hand holders 💕💕 idk why I just do. That's all here

URANUS:

It says Ouranos which makes me think of Ouran highschool host club for some reason, I really would like a season 2. But it's funny cause I didn't know him and he seems pretty interesting though it seems like a minor role if he's the heavens personified that's some big stuff. He rules Uranus which rules Aquarius, possible talents and gifts could be (BLINDING LIGHTS IS PLAYING THIS IS GOOD UGHH I LOVE THIS SONG) alright back to it. Talents like, singing, clairaudience, intuitiveness, a love for curiosity and knowledge, liked skin and proportions, natural attraction, believable, natural leader when younger though maybe not as grown idk.

NEPTUNE:

Of course ruled by Poseidon. Idk why I still add the planets it's the thing above🤦🏽‍♀️ I just make this harder on myself. Neptune rules Pisces. Gifts and talents could be creativity, building, imagination, pull towards earth, swimming, attraction to people also (in a way that your looks capture people as Pisces is beautifully soft), strong senses of the eyes and ears, technology, either quiet or loud voice.

PLUTO:

The official one for Greeks is Hades, there was a name before called Plouton or Ploútōn another name for Hades. Pluto rules Scorpio, also guessed. Gifts and talents may be excelling in curricular concepts like philosophy, leadership (you guys can lead double lives but you're good rulers ngl kinda manipulative at them tho), you guys could probably background check me through connections with ppl lol, people confide in you often this is good cause I feel you feel loved by this, risk takers (Hades is kinda 'out of the circle' which leads to thoughts that Scorpios like to explore and be chaotic because of this at times they're finally free on earth), down to earth or way up high one way or another no in-between, natural ideas that people can't help but fall for, the ability to be unnoticed when wanted, stealthy, quick under pressure. you guys make this world more enjoyable over all there's not much ik you guys are just amazing to me for some reason.

END

that's all there but more to add on are things like blood line theory, if you are a natural descendant of a god (not by literal blood just chosen exactly by them) then there's a chance your abilities will be stronger and you will make a more greater imprint on the world. Not all of these were used for good. They cna be used to any advantage.

I believe asteroids also have something to do with the gods so if you would like to hear something on that please ask!

All in all this post took about 2 hours and 30 mins or close which isn't bad. Sorry if anything was missed and please share your ideas on this I love hearing them!

Coming back to say I'm surprised Hera wasn't here I was looking forward to her

[sbd-laytall]

Okay, so @whythefuckdoiexist gave me an ask about Frankercy Headcanons, I believe, but because of my stupid fingers, I accidentally deleted it. Anyway, here are some of my Frankercy Headcanons. I know they’re not great but yeah.

Frankercy is the duo who get together fairly quickly. You wouldn’t think that because Percy can be quite oblivious to his own emotions, but I like to think that they get attached pretty fast. Like, I swear to God, the instant they meet in Son Of Neptune, they are a ride-or-die dynamic. Some random kid goes up to them with a lady in his arms? Fight the monsters chasing them. Same kid is getting interrogated by Reyna? Stand up for him. That same damn kid needs someone to look out for him? Immediately volunteer to help.

Percy loves to make Frank blush. It’s one of his favorite things to do. Through small moments, Percy starts to bring Frank’s confidence up. This little headcanon stems from this moment in Son Of Neptune:

“What about you, Frank?”

“Archery,” he muttered. “They don’t like that either, unless you’re a child of Apollo. Then you’ve got an excuse. I hope my dad is Apollo, but I don’t know. I can’t do poetry very well. And I’m not sure I want to be related to Octavian.”

“Can’t blame you,” Percy said. “But you’re excellent with the bow—the way you pegged those gorgons? Forget what other people think.”

Frank’s face turned as red as Dakota’s Kool-Aid.

Poseidon LOVES Frank. (Of course, to Poseidon, anyone’s kid would be better than Athena’s spawn.) Frank tries to be respectful, but Poseidon loves teasing him and joking around with him.

Frank also gets along with Paul and Sally great. Of course, Sally nearly gives him a heart attack when she makes a very risky joke in front of him (Percy gets some of his humor from Sally, I don’t give a fuck) and she reduces him to a stuttering mess.

Percy hates that he’s dating the son of the war god, but learns to tolerate it. I mean, it’s Mars not Ares, but they both still totally suck, okay. Poor Frank just wants his dad and his boyfriend to stop glaring at each other.

Frank and Percy are really overprotective over one another. Percy hates the thought of losing someone else. He has nightmares a lot. He doesn’t get clingy, but sometimes he gets the irrational urge that if he takes his eyes of someone, they’ll turn into dust or leave or worse.

As for Frank? Sometimes when they watch a movie and Percy falls asleep on him (which he does every time cause he is one sleepy boy and he can’t fall asleep without someone else at his back because he needs to feel safe), Frank has the urge to wrap Percy in blankets and just take away somewhere where the Gods can’t touch them (of course, he can’t because they’ll never be able to escape the gods and fuck, it hurts thinking about the fact that none of them will ever get happy endings).

Frank and Percy are impossible to win against because (A) they’re powerful as fuck and (B) they’re brilliant strategists. So, if they end up teaming up at Capture The Flag, the other side is inevitably going to lose.

They’re not one for PDA, but when they’re alone, they love to cuddle. (It’s their way of reassuring the other that they’re there and they’re not going away any time soon) Sometimes Percy wakes up with a bulldog lying on his chest and all he can do is laugh.

Hazel maintains that she was the first one to start rooting for them, because she was there for the beginning of the ship, guys.

Frank gets used to Percy because he’s a n easygoing guy, which means that sometimes he forgets what a powerhouse Percy is, but then he gets reminded when they’re up against a monster. Frank doesn’t feel fear, but awe. His boyfriend is amazing! This headcanon stems from this moment in Son Of Neptune:

Then Percy Jackson had arrived.

Sure, Frank had seen kids fight monsters before. He’d fought plenty of them himself on his journey from Vancouver. But he’d never seen gorgons. He’d never seen a goddess in person. And the way Percy had controlled the Little Tiber—wow.

Anyway, I just love them so much because they respect and love one another so much and I think that their friendship deserves the world. Thanks for the ask!

[harryspet]

secret service | bucky barnes

[Warnings] secret service!bucky x reader, reader is vp’s daughter, bodyguard!bucky, agegap, noncon/dubcon sex, brat tamer bucky, dominant x submissive, rough sex (wear protection kids!!)

A/N: this is for @nsfwsebbie​ ‘s dream fic challenge. Happy b-day sab! this is @mypoisonedvine​ ‘s dream fic and the prompt was “I would love anything dark bucky, especially if he starts out all nice and stuff but then he's all manipulative and it gets worse and worse until we're in heavy dub con/non con territory”. hope you enjoy bb!

In which a political trip to London allows you to be reunited with your favorite secret service member, Bucky Barnes. 

taglist: @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything​ @saharzek​ @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet​ @what-is-your-wish​ @marvelslut-musicalnerd​ @brattypeony​ @hermayone​ @buckysugar​ @mandiiblanche​ @cherienymphe​

word count: 3.9k 

main masterlist

“You’ll need to be on your best behavior this weekend. We can’t have an incident like last year.”

You didn’t meet your mother’s eyes as you looked out the window of the private plane. Surprising to most, this time you spent watching her read her millions of paperwork was the most time you spent with her. Your mother cared for you but she was not warm. You didn’t believe a warm person could make it so high in the government. Being the daughter of the Vice President, you saw the kinds of dirty, manipulative politics that went on behind the scene. 

You wanted little part of it but, here you were, about to land in London for an important public event. 

“Y/N? Are you listening?” She continued to talk despite your lack of an answer, “That means you tell your agents when you’re going somewhere. I don’t care if you’re only walking down the hall to the ice machine, you tell them. You’ve known this since you were a little girl, I don’t know why you always give me a hard time.”

“I’m already here alone, Mom. Must you torture me further by suffocating me?”

“I know you must think it’s fun to rendezvous with some foreign prince but I must ask you to keep your legs closed for this trip and listen to your security.”

Your mouth parted. She thought of you as some whore but the truth was that you were far from the persona she forced upon you, “You don’t know me at all. And Alden isn’t a prince, his father is a prince. He’s just a duke,” You faked a smile and she scowled at you. 

You weren’t expecting her next words, “I have a surprise for you when we land.”

You paused for a moment, trying to read her face. She was perfect at disguising her true emotions and, as her daughter, the thought that you didn’t really know your mother was saddening, “A surprise? I thought you were lecturing me.”

“You won’t listen unless I bribe you, Y/N,” Just as the words left her mouth, the pilot spoke on the intercom. The plane was beginning its descent and in a moment you’d be landing. One of your mother's assistants had to approve all your outfits for this trip. After some discourse, you decided on a light pink dress for your arrival look. It hugged your curves the way you liked but it reached down to your knees modestly as your mother preferred. 

When you were finally stepping down the stairs to the plane, watching your mother wave to the press, and the diplomats ready to greet her, you realized what your surprise was. Two sleek, black cars waited at the end of the red carpet and the sight of the man standing in front of the second one made your heart race. 

It took everything in you not to run to him. His dark hair was styled neatly, his arms folded over his nicely pressed black suit and a soft look of happiness was displayed on his strong face. He was just like you remembered him, the earpiece in his ear and the gold pin on his lapel reminded you of his position. 

“This is my surprise?” Your mother turned to you with a grin. 

“I know how much you like Agent Barnes, maybe you’ll actually listen to him. You’re going straight to your hotel room, I will see you later tonight.”

“Of course, my beloved mother.  Like all teenagers, I love sitting in my hotel room and doing nothing while I’m on a trip.”

You watched your mother walk away from you, going to the first car while you approached the second car. Your speed picked up as you neared him. He opened the door for you, winking, “Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach. I repeat, Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach.”

Everyone the secret service protected had a codename. You’d been a proud girl scout for most of elementary school and then middle school when your mother went from Senator to Vice President. The name stuck and you thought it was annoying now that you’d grown out of that phase but you liked the name on his lips. 

As you carefully slipped inside the car, you were beaming and, as Bucky slipped in beside you, you had to wait to pounce. You attacked him with a hug as soon as the doors closed and none of the crowd could see you through the tinted windows. You felt his hand against your back, hugging you tightly and it was then that you realized how touch starved you had been. 

Everyone you came in contact had to go through your guards and that was often an intimidating process for most guys. Even though you had started college, you decided to avoid boys altogether because of this. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Your eyes were wide even as you pulled away from him, “How?”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, “Well I can’t tell you all the details since they’re top secret but, let’s say, my mission didn’t take as long as predicted.”

Your eyes narrowed at him in curiosity, “So you killed the bad guys and they let you come back to play babysitter?”

Bucky shook his head, giving you an amused look, “So crass. I see nothing has changed,” He leaned over and, for the briefest second, you thought his face was leaning into yours. Instead, he had reached over to grab your seatbelt as he safely secured it around your waist. Your cheeks heated up and you found yourself looking into the rearview mirror where you could see the two agents sitting in the front seat, “I apologize for being gone so long.”

“You didn’t miss much,” You said to console him, “Just senior year which was nothing special.”

Seeing him now made you think about meeting him those six years ago. He was so young then, just having served in the Army, but somehow aging had made him look even better. You had a feeling he was just as king and loyal as before. You were just a middle schooler at the time, hormonal, and constantly fighting with your parents about your lack of freedom. Maybe you hadn’t changed much either. 

You watched him fasten his own seatbelt as the car began to take off, “Nothing special, hmm?” He cocked his eyebrow, “What about prom? Graduation?”

“Oh, it was effectively ruined by my arch-nemesis. He stole my spot as Salutatorian, my prom date wouldn’t stop talking to him about nanotech for the entire evening, and guess who got into Stanford for early admission just like yours truly?”

“Little Peter Parker?” Bucky chuckled. 

“He’s not so little anymore,” You crossed your arms, pouting, “He’s only jealous that my mother was chosen as Vice President and his uncle was chosen for the lousy Secretary of Labor position.”

“Seems he must like you a lot to follow you to Stanford. To move all the way across the country,” You gave him an incredulous look, “C’mon, princess, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” You rushed out your words, trying to ignore that feeling you got when he called you princess. If anyone else had said that, you’d probably feel disgusted but … you couldn’t help but think that term of endearment had changed its meaning. The truth was that you never thought Peter liked you and now you were worrying that your lack of social awareness had caused you to ignore the warning signs, “The last person I want to talk about is Peter Parker, Bucky.”

“Fine,” He folded his hands in front of him, sighing. 

“Besides,” You side-eyed him mischievously, “I have someone far more important who feigns for my attention.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky leaned in. 

“A duke,” You finished.

Bucky’s face seemed to fall, “I can’t imagine you as a duchess,” You couldn’t imagine yourself as one either but you liked the excitement that Alden brought you, “And your mother informed me of what happened last year. I’ll probably lose my job if something like that occurs again.”

“You’d tattle on me? I thought we were friends, Bucky.”

“That was when you were a harmless little girl. Now, you’re …” His eyes seemed to roam over your face then they fell to your neck but they moved back to your eyes before they could travel any lower, “You’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?”

You reached out to tap his cheek playfully and smirked, “I missed you.”

+

You weren’t sure exactly what holier-than-thou charity that these rich people had gathered in ball gowns to donate to. It was probably a minuscule fraction of their wealth and they most likely were only here to keep up appearances. Still, you enjoyed a chance to dress up. 

You moved through the historical museum in a red ball gown, admiring all the expensive artifacts, as Bucky escorted you. You expected your mother to be with you during the event she’d forced you to attend but it seemed that she was once again too busy. You would’ve felt lonely if Bucky hadn’t been there. The other agents kept their distance, wearing tuxedos to blend into the rest of the crowd as they watched you from a distance. 

Every now and then your conversation with Bucky would be interrupted by a message coming through his squiggly earpiece. 

He looked quite handsome tonight and by the outline of his biceps against the fabric of his tuxedo jacket, you could tell he had bulked up over the last year. 

“Madam Vice President had a run-in with the Prime Minister's wife. Turns out they’ve been dying to talk. She’ll meet you once the auction begins.”

“Oh, an auction, is that what this is? What endangered species are we saving tonight?”

“Funny,” Bucky added sarcastically, “... I don’t see your prince around. Perhaps he found another famous daughter to entertain for the night.”

You gave him a venomous look, “That cannot be possible when I look like this,” You emphasized your glamorous look that had taken nearly five hours to get on, “Now, would you please escort me to my table? I’m sure he’ll come and find me once you’re not standing beside me like a big tree.”

The truth was that you had no idea if Alden even remembered you from last year. He did make out with you but who knows how many famous daughters he had tried to entertain before. You hated how right Bucky seemed. 

Bucky didn’t add anything to your harsh words as he escorted you into a large ballroom. It was so elegantly decorated that the room smelled like money. Blue stripes of light wavered through the room making it feel like you were in the middle of the ocean. You couldn’t help that the feeling of drowning that she experienced was a bad touch on the organizer's part. 

Of course, your mother’s table was right near the front of the room. As Bucky pulled back the white chair, you took a seat, not meeting his eyes, “You’re dismissed, Mr. Barnes,” You spoke over your shoulder. 

To your surprise, he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “You cause any problems tonight, princess, and you deal with me.”

Your mouth pinched into a thin line as you were left speechless. When you looked back, he was already walking away, taking his position by the far wall. You looked away quickly, mentally cursing. So much for having the upper-hand. You slouched in your seat, looking around the hall which was now flooding with people. 

A few people you vaguely remembered having a conversation with approached you to talk. Hollywood celebrities, European politicians, and even famous designers hoping to get you to wear some of their designs. Lately, the paparazzi loved to follow you as you walked to class and gossip sites loved to talk about what you wore. 

Everyone was so busy trying to get your attention that you hadn’t noticed someone slip in the seat beside you, “You look like you need something to drink,” You were a bit startled but you immediately recognized his voice. It seemed a year had made him more handsome as well. With one hand he grabbed yours and kissed it and with the other he handed you a glass of champagne. 

“Your grace,” You greeted him, accepting the glass. You had almost forgotten that you could legally drink here. Despite that, you knew it would be improper to your mother. That’s why you took a sip, “Thank you so much-” You winced at the bitter taste but continued to sip. 

The young duke was tall and red-headed, his face peppered with adorable freckles. His royal get-up was even more attractive. 

You looked back at Bucky who was staring intently, “Is a night of fun in the cards for us?” You turned back to the Prince. 

“I’m not supposed to rendezvous with royalty anymore. My Mom was not happy with me.”

He leaned back casually in his chair, his leisurely nature was surprising to you, “Is she usually happy with you?”

“Touche,” You took another painful sip, “Still, I’m not supposed to leave this table and I’m supposed to go straight back to my hotel room. No funny business.”

“No shenanigans whatsoever?” He frowned and you wondered why the British accent was so heavenly, “You must, at the very least, keep me entertained through whatever ceremony this is-”

“An auction, your grace.”

“What endangered species are we trying to save this time? It won’t be enough money anyways since they decorated this place with literal diamonds,” You smiled as you saw him reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask, “Something stronger, perhaps?”

+

Bucky tapped his foot, starting to tune out the voice in his ear. 

The room was now full of socialites, Madam Vice President had been escorted to her seat, and now the auction was beginning. The Vice President hadn’t so much as hugged her daughter so Bucky doubted she had noticed you were drinking yet. The young Duke would refill your glass with a clear liquid every time it ran low. 

You were now giggling and laughing with him as a serious speech was given. You had to be at least six shots in. You played with his hand in your lap, leaning over to whisper in his ear, as you had the time of your life. 

Bucky didn’t panic, only made a quick decision, “Girl Scout is in need of some rescuing. Clear the exit.” 

Bucky scanned the room and his men began to follow his orders, as he approached your table. Before you could take another sip of your drink, his hand was on your shoulder. Your mother flashed him a concerned look but Bucky gave her a look to tell her not to worry. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed yet that you were about to go off the rails. 

“Want some?” You smiled lazily as you lifted your glass. Bucky took it from you, setting back on the table. 

“I think you need to use the bathroom, Miss Y/L/N,” You gave him a confused look. You wondered why he was being so stern with you. 

“Nooo, I think you have the wrong woman, officer,” Bucky grabbed onto your hand, urging you up from your seat, “Let me deal with this rude man, your grace, I’ll be back soon.”

It seemed the Duke was in a similar, drunk state and simply replied with, “Return soon, my darling. I shall wait for your return-” You couldn’t respond because Bucky was trying to pull you away. Luckily, Bucky hadn’t managed to cause a scene but he knew you’d end up getting blackout drunk and embarrassing your mother if you continued. 

Agents flocked around the two of you as you were guided out of the room. You almost tripped on the long skirt of your dress though Bucky easily caught you. You held onto him, giggling, “You couldn’t make it one night, could you?” You walked through a long hallway, staff carrying large plates of food passed and stared. 

He brought you to the bathroom which was ginormous in itself, chandeliers hanging across the length of it, and completely empty, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, officer.”

He leaned against the wall, “Walk around. Splash water on your face. Sober up.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the sink counter, as you stared at your makeup. As if you would ruin your makeup to “sober up”. 

You pouted, staring at him through the mirror, “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Bucky. Only my mother.”

“Your mother is my boss. When you upset her, she’s upset with me,” Bucky was terse, and you wondered where that soft side was starting to disappear to, “You shouldn’t be drinking anyway.”

You huffed, hating that this conversation was starting to ruin your buzz, “I’m not a child. Don’t tell me you never had a sip of alcohol before you were twenty-one.”

“You think you’re more mature than you actually are,” You couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face, “You’re not drinking for fun. You’re drinking to spite your mother.” 

He moved closer, his hands behind his back as he sunk his words into you like a knife. You turned to him, taking a challenging step toward him. He towered over you but you clung to that anger and turned it to what you thought was confidence. 

You grinned up at him, reaching out to play with the buttons of his jacket, “I thought you knew me better, Bucky,” You looked up at him with longing eyes, “I’m not a little girl anymore and you know that. You look at me differently. Your eyes linger on places you shouldn’t even be watching.”

Bucky grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, “Stop,” You knew you had touched a nerve. 

“See, I know these things now,” You teased, “You like it when you can swoop me up and save me.”

“It’s my job, Y/N,” He spoke sternly. He was still holding you despite his words. 

“What is it that you really want from me?” You pressed yourself closer to him, “A kiss maybe? Or something more forbidden?”

His eyes were dark with lust and you watched them linger on your lips at the mention of a kiss. What exactly did you want from him and what hole had you just dug for yourself? The alcohol was giving you courage but you weren’t actually sure how to finish what you started. 

Bucky decided for you. He turned your body quickly, pressing your back into him, as a hand tightened around your throat. He faced you toward the mirror and the two of you were illuminated with bright lights. Your eyes widened as you watched him lean into your ear, “You’re such a brat ….”

Maybe part of him wanted you to mess up. Maybe he wanted a reason to get you alone with him and away from the royal douche that you were talking to. Maybe he let you get to this point ... 

“Bucky, what are you-” His hand tightened around your throat and you felt your knees go weak. 

He shushed you, “You asked what I really wanted. I want to punish you, princess,” Shivers went through your body as his warm breath tickled your ear, “I want to fuck you speechless so you can’t talk back with that smart little mouth of yours anymore.”

You started to struggle against you but you felt his fingers tighten around the sides of your throat. His hands were so big that they wrapped perfectly around your neck, “Hands on the counter,” He loosened his grip but only so he could push you forward. Like instinct, your hands held the sink counter. You turned your head to look back at him but he grabbed your hair, forcing your face forward, “Look forward, I want you to be able to see your pretty face while I fuck you.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” You forced out shakily as you felt the back of your dress being slowly unzipped. Through the mirror, you watched as he carefully took in the view of your body, “Please don’t hurt me-”

“Have I ever hurt you before?” He interrupted you, his hands traveling over your bareback, “I’ll always protect you, princess. I just think, if I’m going to keep doing my job, we need some new rules.”

The straps of your dress fell down your shoulder, exposing your breast. Again, as you tried to look away, he forced your face towards the mirror again, “Don’t be shy now,” He pulled down your panties, slapping your now exposed bottom, sending a stinging pain through your skin. 

There was aching between your legs and part of you feared what he’d discover when he took a closer look. As you watched him undo his belt, a dark look in his eyes, you knew that he was going to push you all the way. He slapped your ass again, watching your body convulse as you tried to run from the pain. Surprisingly, his intimate touch only made that aching grow. 

Upon closer examination, Bucky did discover the wetness between your legs. You bit down on your lip as his fingers roamed over your sweet spot, rubbing your sensitive bulb. You bent over further, allowing him more access which caused Bucky to smirk. 

Something switched in him once again because suddenly he was pouncing again, positioning himself behind you as he pushed you further against the counter. He wanted you to see his face as he entered you, roughly grabbing your hair as he teased you entrance with his hard, throbbing cock. 

“Please…” 

“Please what? You want me to fuck you?” You closed your eyes, unwilling to answer, only to receive another smack to your bottom, “Don’t worry about what you want, princess, I’m making the decisions here.”

He stretched you as he slowly entered you and you tightly wrapped around his member, “Fuck, Y/N,” He cursed, moving deeper inside of you. At that moment, he was all that could feel, and all that consumed your thoughts. He moved torturously slow in and out of you and you gasped every time he sunk his entire length within you. 

“Bucky!” You cried out, your mouth wide as you gripped the counter for dear life, “Ah, t-t-too big … p-please. Ah!”

He moved faster now, reaching around to grab ahold of your breast as he thrust inside of you. You called his name again and that only made him speed up his pace. He was torturing with his ferocity and now you wished he’d go back to taking it easy on you. You watched in the mirror as he split you apart, taking whatever innocence you had left within you, “Good girl, princess,” He praised you, “Taking my cock. So. Good.”

He was moving too fast now. With each thrust, he was hitting the right spot and sending pleasure in cascading waves through your body. You couldn’t take it, already tightening around his cock as you orgasm. You tried to run from it, trying to pull your body forward but he grabbed your arms, forcing you back onto his cock. Tears stung your eyes as he went even deeper. 

When he finally came, he grunted hard, his moaning deep and heavy. You were defeated, conquered, though you didn’t understand why being violated could feel so good. 

You leaned against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily, before pulling up his pants and tightening his belt again. He adjusted his earpiece before looking at you over again. Shaking, you were pulling up the straps of your dress.

“Sober now?” He asked, a wicked smile on his face. “Let’s try yes sir and no sir from now on. Understand?”

“Yes… Sir.”

+

i love the whole secret service concept so i hope you enjoyed it too!

[cursestothemoon]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love

i.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Read the summary here

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 2569

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

(i found the picture on google, there is a name on it but other than that i am not sure who owns it. I do not.)

The leaves, newly fallen from the on coming of Autumn, crunched under the feet of hurrying students. Hogwarts had begun it’s new school year, witches and wizards were hurrying from boats and carts to get into the castle and catch up with friends. Just outside of the dining Hall was a sea of students, chattering with friends, everyone staying in clumps of like colors.

Gryffindors stayed with their own, as did Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs were the ones to intermingle the most, having friends in almost every house. Then there was the house of Salazar Slytherin, a proud bunch, robes of green tightly knit together leaving no room for outsiders or stragglers, not that the other houses (excluding Hufflepuff) thought highly enough of the green and silver house to make friends.

Y/n L/n, a proud member of Slytherin stood proud with her friends and housemates. Her chin was held high, a playful smirk painted delicately on her features as she listened to Blaise Zabini give a recount of his summer holiday. Blaise had always been a nice boy, his mother was a beautiful woman who was familiar with the front page of many high end wizarding fashion magazines. Then there was Lily Webberforth, another pureblood from a family of wealth, she was in Y/n’s year and a cherished friend.

“Father said he’d be purchasing a new peacock for the manor, though he couldn’t decide between albino or not.” Draco informed.

Draco Malfoy had wormed his way into the group during second year, a good kid...when he wanted to be, but absolutely snotty otherwise.

“Y/n, how about you wear my jersey for the first game of the season?” Adrian Pucey asked, arm slinging around Y/n’s shoulders making her internally cringe.

She was never a fan of being touched and Adrian seemed to be all for it when it came to her. They were in the same year and he’d been trying to convince Y/n to make it official since third year. She preferred to play with him rather than commit to him. It was easier that way, being able to differentiate her feelings from an early age, she knew she didn't particularly like him, but they had a few good nights and now she can’t shake him. He had become rougher over the years, harsh and controlling with an affinity for blackmail.

“No my clothes are just fine, Pucey, thanks.” She shrugged off his arm as Lily snickered at the exchange, finding joy in giving Adrian a look that told him ‘better luck next time’.

Adrian, not the biggest fan of rejection then turned to Lily in hopes of getting a jealous rise out of Y/n.

“What about you, Lils? You’ll wear my jersey won’t you?”

Lily shook her head, “I’m on the team with you, clear why you're not in Ravenclaw isn't it?”

Y/n laughed at the comment and moved to stand next to Lily, away from Adrian. Luckily, he got the message, for now, and left to find Marcus Flint.

“Have you seen the twins yet?” Lily asked, leaning closer to Y/n to make sure she wasn't overheard.

The girl gave her a questioning look before asking, “Why would I go looking for them?”

“Their hair’s come in nice, looking a bit shabby last year, remember?”

“Yeah, they’ve finally cut it?”

Lily shook her head, her eyes glowing with excitement, “Even better, it’s grown out a bit longer. Real nice looking, George looks rather well I’d say.”

“I always figured you had a thing for him.” Y/n laughed.

“Oh please, you and I both know that you love how much attention Fred gives you.”

Y/n tried to respond, really she did, but she was both out of words and interrupted by Lily again.

“Look, here they come.” Her voice was quite as she nudged her head in the direction behind Y/n.

Y/n turned slowly, in no rush to give Fred Weasley the satisfaction of having him know they were talking about him. When she did finally meet his eyes she couldn’t help but agree with Lily, his hair had grown out quite handsomely and he seemed to have reached an impossible height, well over the six feet he towered at in the previous year.

“Ladies.” They greeted simultaneously, Fred eyeing Y/n as they neared.

She gave a silent nod to them as Lily vocally greeted them with a reserved, “Hey.”

“News is that the first match of the season has our houses against each other. Shame isn’t it, Poppet? You can’t cheer for me.” Fred asked, arms crossing in front of his chest and lips stretching to a smirk.

Anyone could tell Fred was proud of his large frame, as a beater he worked hard for his toned arms, and thick biceps but his height was a complete natural gift bestowed upon him by the gods and he wouldn’t waste their generosity.

Y/n snorted, “Oh yeah, makes me feel empty inside when I can’t cheer for you, Weasley.”

“I know, no need to tell me. I fill you right up don’t I?”

The comment made her sneer at him, but she was unable to say anything back as her house was called into the Great Hall for the beginning of the year feast. Fred watched her leave as George poked fun at his inability to charm his way into her heart with innuendos and sarcasm.

It annoyed Fred, it was common knowledge that you had been with a few guys, some people even going as far as giving Y/n an undeserved title for it. Unfortunately, common knowledge happened to be a common rumor made by people who disliked her. Fred didn’t know this however and her constant rejection made him wonder, what did all those other guys have that he didn't?

Y/n and Fred had a back and forth relationship, neither being afraid to throw jabs at the other with the underlying tone of flirtiness yet both of them knowing the line not to cross. Fred thought she was ethereal, the way she seemed to glow as she walked through the halls had him weak in the knees. Her voice was buttery and soft, a velvety quality that seemed to grasp onto each of his heartstrings. Fred was head over heels for her and he hated it so he used sarcasm and a condescending tone to combat his feelings. Over time this developed into a false belief that he really didn’t like her, she was cunning, sly, and so easy to hate when he couldn’t love her.

--

Lily and Y/n sat in potions class, potion already brewed and completed as they gossiped in hushed tones and watchful eyes.

“So, anything new with Weasley?”

Y/n didn’t need a first name to know who her friend was referring to and she groaned.

“No, and there never will be.”

A loud groan emitted from Lily’s lips, “When are you gonna stop lying to yourself? I can see right through you.”

“There is no chance, no way that I’d ever fall for him.”

“You’d never fall for him or you’d never let yourself?”

The following silence was just as good of an answer as any, and Lily gave her a smug looking knowing she had won the argument.

Class ended shortly after that exchange, Y/n and Lily now having a free period chose to hang out in the room with the goblet of fire, watching as people put their names in. It was only last night that Fred and George had voiced their complaints quite loudly at the age restriction and Y/n was excited to rub it in Fred’s face that she was of age. Of course she wasn’t going to put her name in the goblet, she had better things to worry about than some tournament.

Lily and Y/n entered the hall at seemingly the wrong time, seeing as Fred and George had run through the doors leaving the girls in their dust. The whoops and hollers from bystanders made Y/n roll her eyes much to Lily’s amusement.

“How can you not be annoyed by their arrogance?” Y/n asked incredulously.

Her friend shrugged, “They are amusing.”

Y/n ignored the comment as they neared the twins.

“It’s not going to work.” She sing-songed loud enough for them to hear as she walked by.

Fred and George heard the comment and made a b-line for her and Lily. Fred plopped down behind Y/n, his face turning to meet her eyes, George doing the same to Lily.

“You don’t think that, do you Lily?” George asked Lily with a feigned look of childlike innocence.

“Come on, Poppet, have a little faith in me.” Fred said, a sarcastic look of pleading falling over his features.

For extra effect Fred jutted out his bottom lip making Y/n laugh at his ridiculousness, and oh how he loved to have her attention to himself.

“It’s incredibly dimwitted.” Y/n answered.

Lily nodded, “See that there?” She pointed to a white line around the goblet as she continued, “it’s an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself -”

“Meaning something as pathetically dimwitted as an aging potion isn’t going to get past it.” Y/n finished.

Fred tsked as he shook his head, “That’s why it’s so brilliant.”

“Because it’s so pathetically dimwitted.”

The twins stood up abruptly and Y/n’s eyes followed Fred’s figure. The way his jaw flexed as he drank the potion and his hair flopped when he jumped down from the bench with George made Y/n lose grasp on her emotions for just a moment.

He was good looking, she couldn’t deny it. Fred Weasley seemed to be built by the gods, his hair burned as that of Ares’, and his face chiseled to the likeness of Apollo. But Y/n had been there and done that with pretty boys, all of them were the same and wouldn’t give in to another one. She refused to let herself fall for him, afraid of the repercussions of really loving him.

The fire let out an angry growl that brought Y/n’s mind back to that room and what was happening, with good timing too as she then watched George and Fred get thrown a few feet in the air and land away from the age line. They sprouted long grey beards and got into a tussle on the floor.

The sight made Y/n giggle before she quickly regained her composure and acted as unbothered as possible making Lily roll her eyes. It would’ve been a fairly enjoyable time, regardless of what Y/n would’ve told Fred, but Adrian Pucey walking into the hall made her shrink in her chair as she grimaced.

“Go, don’t think he’s seen you yet.” Lily whispered, eyes trained on the other Slytherin.

Y/n nodded and hugged the walls as she made her way to the door, hopefully, unseen. She celebrated too early, and her face fell as she heard the unmistakable tone just as she made it through the doors.

“Running away from me?” Adrian called, his smirk evident in his words.

She stopped, turning to look at him as she spoke, “Don’t be so surprised. You ought to have realized by now your company isn’t wanted.”

“Come on Y/n, give us a chance. You know you want to.” He said coming closer to her.

“Really, Adrian, I don’t.”

Adrian reached out to pull her under his arm and forced her to walk with him, the act making her tense up but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned closer to her ear, his breath hitting her skin making her incredibly uncomfortable.

“You’re mine, you know that don’t you? And no fucking ginger is going to get in my way.” He growled.

“You’re disgusting.” She spat, eyes burning with the anger of Hephaestus’ greatest fire.

Adrian laughed as he leaned closer to Y/n’s ear making her give an uncomfortable shiver, “Careful, darling, your feelings are showing.”

--

“Miss me, poppet?”

Fred Weasley’s voice was chipper and cheery as he greeted Y/n in their first class of the day. He had just woken up and it showed, his red hair looked as though it was hastily brushed through with his own fingers and his eyes still a bit puffy. He looked positively endearing as he took a seat at his table with George, just behind Lily and Y/n.

“Ridiculously.” Y/n mumbled, not looking up from her Herbology book.

“We’re only a few weeks in, what could you possibly be studying for?” Fred asked as he leaned over his desk to catch a glimpse at what you were looking at.

You glanced at him momentarily before looking back at your book, “Just giving myself an idea of what to expect.”

“Not a bad idea.” George said, considering doing it himself.

Fred gave him a funny look before turning his attention back to the girl in front of him, chin resting on his hand propped up by his elbow on the desk. She wasn’t paying attention to him, instead focusing on the book in front of her. She was slightly to the side allowing Fred the perfect view of her face without giving her the satisfaction of knowing he was staring at her.

Y/n’s hair fell in gentle waves down to kiss the top of her hips, she had fring that framed the length of her face and parted in the middle that was incredibly voluminous. Her eyes were focused with intense determination as she read, face relaxed as she was completely absorbed in what she was doing. Fred noticed early on that she rarely laughed, a genuine, eye crinkling, giggle but instead always had a look of unbothered casualness. He couldn’t understand this, not in the slightest, seeing as he was sure he had smile lines forming already.

He wanted to know more about the ethereal Slytherin, he craved it with everything in his being. Something about her drew him in, held him in place and refused to let him go.

Deep in thought, Fred failed to notice her eyes now looking at him with a curious glint and her hand coming out to poke him with her index finger.

“Alright, Weasley?” Her eyebrows were furrowed and Fred shrugged off the bubbly feeling he got in his gut.

He smirked, “Aw, do you care about my well being? Georgie hold me I may swoon.”

George laughed and shook his head at his brother, Lily joining in on the laughs as she watched Y/n’s face contort to one of distaste.

“Oi, Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend.” Lee Jordan, a close friend of Fred and George’s called from his table on the other side of the greenhouse.

Fred gave a short chuckle, his defenses coming up instantaneously as he tried to ignore the burning of his cheeks. And maybe if he hadn’t been so keen on putting down any and all rumors of him having feelings for Y/n he would’ve noticed the shy smile that graced Y/n’s lips as she turned her face away from the boys.

But alas, he didn't, and instead opened his mouth to shout over to Lee.

“My standards aren't that low, mate. I’d just as soon shag a goblin, Godric knows they’d be less bothersome.”

Taglist

@freddieweasleyswife​  @anywherebuthere​ 

[stumacherstan]

Ares x goddess!Reader Part Two:

past!thanatos x reader

As you looked down at the casualties of your city, you sign yet again. “I suppose I haven’t been the best partner these past decades.” You uttered to yourself as you dramatically sat down on the temple, your legs dangling.

Your skin raises as a familiar coldness enshrouds you. Your body’s discards it and goes back to its regular temperature. You smile gently but don’t turn back. “Hello Thanatos.”

“Hello (Y/N), it’s been awhile.” The God of Death looked around. “I certainly didn’t expect the city of refugees to look like this,” he glanced at you, “nor expected it to survive.”

“I have to have tricks up my sleeve every now and then. You know me.”

“Knew.”

You didn’t dare flinch at the words. “Well, thank you for doing your job I suppose.”

“It’s the same old thing. Somebody has to.” Thanatos breathed in as he felt each soul descending with his presence. He had other places to be like always, but he did quite miss his time with you.

“It’s quite ironic isn’t it (Y/N)?”

“Don’t you dare finish whatever you are going to say.” You internally seethed as the hypocrisy that you were slowly becoming aware to.

“I’ll say this, I miss you.” He came up behind and his hand lingered on your shoulder. Thanatos felt a tinge of pain hit his heart when you shrugged him off. “However, I know you’re very much in love with him despite this difficult time. Don’t make the same mistake I made with you.”

You winced at those words. You couldn’t handle losing Ares too. He made you feel a different type of way than anyone else ever could. He had a part of you and you him. You looked over your people and saw them handling themselves.

You needn’t hold their hand for everything. You were a Goddess, not a babysitter. For the most part they took care of themselves so why were you wasting your time with them instead of your supposed husband?

The intense feeling of guilt pooled at your stomach. Your dear Ares must feel so neglected. You rubbed your temples again and sighed loudly.

“Thank y-“ As you turned, your old dear friend was already gone. He had done his job and left. “Well, time to find my beloved.”

________________________________

You stood before your grand shared home. People see Ares as prideful and arrogant, so you would assume the house would be large and grand. On the outside it was with its beautiful marble stature and complimenting staircase to the door.

Yet it was just a mini mansion you two enjoyed. Not as big as the other Gods homes. Ares likes a smaller space that has enough for his foolery. You smiled softly as you thought about how he crashed through the second story trying to prove a pint.

You entered and took a big whiff comfort and warmth. ‘It’s been awhile hasn’t it,’ you smiled bitterly to yourself. You looked around and giggled at the paintings, sculptures, and pictures of you and your dear husband. Such happy simple times. When did you become distant?

Your hands clasped each other’s tightly. You knew he was home, and you knew he knew you were home. “My sweet husband, your darling wife is home!” You called out the old saying you would say every time you came home. When he would come home he would say, “My darling wife, your sweet husband is home!”

Ares was still upset about the whole ordeal, but he would never deny you of your kiss of life and love and tight hug or protection. Or so you would call it. Thinking about it made his heart flutter. He finally walked down to you, and felt all those emotions from he first saw your beauty.

His breath got caught in his throat, his stomach was doing cartwheels, he’s sure he was having heart palpitations. Oh dear, you took his breath away. You were as gorgeous as the first day he met you. You didn’t change one bit.

Ares glided to you and hugged you tightly, dipping you like in those cheesy romcom moments and kissed you passionately. He carefully stood you both whilst your lips danced together. He didn’t want to pull away, but you did first; almost making him whine. Then he saw your eyes that held the sky and universe together.

“As beautiful as ever.” Ares breathed out.

You flushed slightly, “you’re just as charming.”

You couldn’t help but feel giddy being in his arms. His beautiful sunset orange eyes held so much passion and love for you that you felt exposed under it. A certain emotional vulnerability was being shown and felt that you hadn’t experienced in awhile. You did miss your husband during those years after all.

You laid your head on your chest. “I’ve missed you so much, even if I didn’t show it. Carry me to the couch? Somebody wore me out today.”

Ares chuckled as he lifted you with ease just like your wedding day. “Oh did they? Do I have to go and fight them for challenging my lady?”

You playfully swooned at his words and your fingers danced on his face. “You would do that for me?” You batted your eyes up at him innocently.

He carefully sat himself on the couch and adjusted your position to be gently laying on him. “I would do anything for my beautiful wife, anyone who dares strife with her shall have a problem with me.” He started twirling/twisting your hair with his fingers.

“How romantic!” You cheerfully giggled. You let yourself get comfortable and sighed on his chest. “However my dear, you need not strife with such a person. I handled it, you know me.”

“Ah of course of course, you are more than capable of taking yourself. I know.” Ares looked down at you with love. The feelings of bitterness and anger disappeared as you two chatted as if nothing happened. As if he wasn’t the one to fight you.

As looked upon him with the same passion in your orbs, you knew that at some point the discussion had to be talked about. You gently rested your hand on his chest as you cuddled deeper into his arms. “Ares...”

“(Y/N)...”

As stubborn as ever. “I-“ you shoved your face into his chest. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was muffled.

“What was that?”

“I’m. Sorry.”

“A little louder.”

“I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“Ares...”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for, being an uncaring spouse. I didn’t realize how long the time had passed, and I didn’t consider your feelings. I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize how much we had drifted. I still really and care for you, please remember that. And i should’ve-“

Ares shushed you and gently patted your back. “You and your communication skills.”

Although you had no room to pout, you still did. “You’re not the one to talk.”

“Maybe so, but even then. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“We had our fight. Now we are here together.”

“I suppose so.”

“Should we go to my mother for counseling?”

You snorted loudly. “Please.”

“You’re right. We can work it out together.”

Comfortable silence ensued. The both of you reminiscing of old times, how it use to be. When he was your mighty God of War and you were his healing Goddess of Peace. Two peas in pod with delightful season of chaos.

“I really do love you. I promise, from here on out, we will spend more time together.”

“That’s all I ever wanted. I’ve missed you so much.” His arms squeezed you lightly and he buried his nose into your hair. “I’ve missed this.”

You choked back tears. “Oh by the stars, I love you so much.”

Ares hushed you with a soft kiss sealing your fate with him once more.

Two beautiful powerful Gods in love.

[mightymorphingayagenda]

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

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

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

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

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

Humourless. 

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

“This is the part where you-“ 

“Shhh.” 

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

She’d made Eris wait almost a day.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cue phase two of the plan.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a threat?” 

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

Eris said nothing.  

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

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

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

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

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

She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.  

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

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

Who’s your daddy, now?  

- 

She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.  

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

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

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

Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway… 

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

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

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

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

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

He meowed again.  

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

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

Cassian’s jacket.  

Uhg.  

Now she was thinking about him again.  

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

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

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

He purred.  

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

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

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

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

Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.  

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

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

Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.  

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

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

Not a man. A boy.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her screaming.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Her mother’s last words.  

 Ten numbers.  

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

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

 Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.  

 Like a phone number.  

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

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

 “Здравствуйте.” 

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

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

“Who is this?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go down for murder.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Woof,” Nesta had said dryly. 

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

 “You offering to adopt me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until Feyre had moved to the city.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That and the fact they were really very good.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You told me to give him a chance.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ever heard of the third date rule?” 

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

Feyre sighed.  

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

“So why did you send him my way?” 

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

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

Nesta rolled her eyes.  

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” Nesta said.  

“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.  

“Well I’ve been smoking.” 

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

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

“He only smokes them on special occasions.” 

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

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

“Oh so you did hear me?” 

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

She hung up.  

“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.  

Fuck.  

Her being mad at him had been a cop out.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

 — 

 Cassian had ignored her calls.  

All three.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All work and no play?”  

Cassian looked up from his desk.  

“I can fix that,” she said.  

He’d never looked more handsome.  

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”  

Rude.  

Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.  

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

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

She turned to find him watching her.  

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

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

“You’re still upset about that?”  

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

“Oh really?” 

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

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.   

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

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

“You don’t have a clue what I want.” 

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

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

It was all very conflicting.  

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

Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.   

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

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

“You’re right,” she said.  

Cassian blinked.  

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

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

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

“Nothing to do with you.”  

He shook his head, laughing bitterly.   

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

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

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

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

A weighted silence settled like snow between them.   

Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.  

“Shit.” 

His head fell into those large hands.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta slid of the desk.  

“Go on,” she instructed.  

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

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

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

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

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

“I can tell.” 

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

“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”  

Cassian swallowed.  

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

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

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

“If you say please.” 

“Please don’t screw around with me.” 

Nesta faltered.  

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

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

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

Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nesta-“ 

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

“Someone could come back-“ 

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

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

“Nesta-” 

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

“I want you,” she purred again.  

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

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

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

“You want me,” he breathed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I’m saying you could be in me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, yes, please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More,” she demanded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words sent her over the edge.  

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

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

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

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

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

“Then get on your knees.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Down boy,” she purred.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.  

“Cassian,” she keened.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gasped softly, grinding deeper.  

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

“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.  

“Let me take care of you.” 

“Cassian.” 

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

Nesta smiled.  

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

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

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

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

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

“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.  

It was so good.  

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta whined softly.  

“Cassian…more…” 

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

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

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

“Oh!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She turned her gaze to him.  

“Shame.” 

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

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

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

Cassian grinned.  

“You like Italian?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lethal,” he whispered.  

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

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

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

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

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

Their second date had been incredible.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Make you blush like a-” 

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

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

“Says the military man.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was so a line!”  

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

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

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

Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What would you rather we talk about?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta sighed sweetly into him-  

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

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

He fished out his phone, and declined the call.  

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

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

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

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

Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.  

“Yes please.” 

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”  

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

“Congratulations.” 

Cassian grinned.  

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

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

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

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

“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.  

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

“Please do.” 

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

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

He pulled back abruptly.  

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

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

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

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

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

“But I-” 

A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.  

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

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

“More romantic than that sentence?”  

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

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

“How have you already failed?” 

“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.  

“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.” 

“So you’ve said,” she blushed.  

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

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

“You’re so mean,” he grinned.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you decline my call?” 

“Yup.” 

“Bastard.” 

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

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

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

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

He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.  

“That why you’re calling?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.  

“Fine, your stropping-” 

“Fuck off.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hang on a minute-” 

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

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

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

“Alright, alright Don.” 

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

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

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

Cassian sighed heavily.  

“This a secure line?” 

“Always”. 

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

“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.  

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

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

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

“Lucien?” 

“Turns out the kid’s his.” 

“Fucking hell.” 

“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.  

Rhys went silent again.  

“We could always just kill Eris.” 

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

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

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

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

“Dick.” 

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

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

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

“I’m fucking Persian!” 

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

“A fanabla!”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.” 

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

“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.” 

“Nesta’s no Feyre.” 

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

“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.” 

“See you then.” 

 TAG LIST

@featherymalignancy

@sleeping-and-books

@my-fan-side

@hearts-of-persephone 

@witchling13

@theoverlyenthusiasticwriter

@typicalmidnightsoul

@sezkins79

@thebitchupstairs

@fourshizzle149

@monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies

@yikesitsmaddie

@jjellybean

@thronesandstars

@mis-lil-red 

@rhysandsdarlingfeyre

@cf-mist-and-fury

@breezy-freezy 

@dayanna-hatter 

@anishake

@candid-confetti 

@goldbooksblack

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper

@justgiu12

@twansy17

@caotica-e-quieta

@singinginthedarktimes

@carebear1339

@keshavomit

@januarystears

@bookstantrash 

@illyrianshadowhunter

[yashashveeroy]

Hey hey hey, friendo I'm here as quick as I could be lol

Libra Sun

Pisces Moon

Scorpio Rising

Have a great day friendo and hugs 🙈🤗🤗😂😂😂

Hello my dearest @the-cosmic-gentle-giant Friendo!! 🤣🥰💜✨ (you really ate up the opportunity I must say💀🤣✋).

Please read the Rules regarding my “Asks/Big 3 interpretations” here before reading this piece of work.

Note: I often write intuitively for these interpretations. Not everything has to resonate with you. I may come off blunt or mean as well but I have no intention to do so.

Libra Sun:

Tell me Ruan, do you often feel like an alien in your own surroundings? Do you often find yourself looking for something but you yourself do know what it is? I somehow see that you have a lot of love to give but you have to remember to only give it to those who are deserving. Your sense of solitude is quite different. Every time you may want to spend some alone time, you might end up thinking about calling someone to spend that alone time with you. But you know, because you are so different, people want to know you. Some may try to come in contact with you just to take advantage of the goodness in you. Funny thing is, sometimes you fail to understand that there’s something bad in people too. After all, when Venus meets the sun, she blindly sees beauty and opulence in everything. You’re not the typical libra sun, you might love to socialise but it has to happen within your limits. Things have to be done your way. Do you have chosen family? I ask you this because I sense that you feel better about yourself around those who are your close knit friends or who think just like you do. And oh my, you certainly have a pull to you. Now I’m not aware of your sexual preferences but I will say this, your looks aside, people of many sexual identities may be attracted to your heart, your character.

Pisces Moon:

Pisces moon, a beautiful placement to have, at least according to me. Since it’s rulers are Jupiter (traditional) and Neptune (modern) it works quite well with the energies of the Moon. I’ve always viewed the Lunarian and Neptunian energies as similar in nature. Both rule intuition, creativity, empathy, emotional growth etc. I see Pisces moon being very harmonious with their spirituality. I mean, coming from from a Vedic Pisces moon herself, I can guarantee it. It may have taken time for you to realise that a few things that happened during your childhood, had a major impact in your spiritual growth and beliefs in your later years. Coming face to face with the occult may have been uncomfortable at the beginning but eventually you fell in love. I somehow see that your spirituality also influences your creativity, especially with the energies of Jupiter guiding it along. Eroticism or Erotic Arts maybe of your liking. When Venus (libra sun) is paired with Neptune (Pisces moon) there’s an itch to make the private, public. After all, the world to you is a facade in itself, isn’t it? So you might often think to yourself “why is there a need to hide such normal, human thoughts and behaviours? we are all sexual in one way or the other!”. Are you a hopeless romantic as well? Confirm it for me. Venus along with Neptune gives you this unusual power to romanticise things when you’re at your worst. It helps you in a way. And it surely makes you optimistic when it’s most needed.

Scorpio Rising:

Now I will say this, the moment I saw that you have Libra and Scorpio in your big 3, I fell in love. I admire this combination so much. I’ve said it a countless times before and I’ll say it again, to have Libra and Scorpio placements in one’s natal blue print, gives them the power to create and destroy & to love and hate. Somehow for you I sense that these powers are used in your personal transformation. For you, your there’s no such thing as being “consistent” or even being the same person you were yesterday. But you see, that’s the irony, because it’s where you are most “consistent”. Transformations are a part of you, they’re unavoidable. It’s something you are known for. You get what I’m saying? Ohhhhh and I will say, you never do anything half heartedly. Because of this deep rooted devotion in whatever you do, you also strike luck (Pisces Moon ruled by Jupiter(traditional)) in your work or findings. Are you into the fine arts? Confirm it for me. Venus, Neptune, Jupiter and Pluto are all indicators of an artist to me. One may question me and ask “why Pluto?”. Think of it this way, art is very transformative in nature and it can be dark in many ways. People often fail to see this Plutonian side to the fine arts. Our style of painting, drawing and designing has transformed and changed so much compared to the old days. Ruan, are you a big softie? Something tells me you are. Now obviously you might hide it but when you do reveal it, it makes you full, a complete version of you. It’s so adorable oh my gosh!!! I’m guessing you sometimes give good advice as well. This came to me out of nowhere but I had to write it: Remember, in this lifetime, you are learning lessons through yourself. You’re responsible for it all. Look deep inside yourself, your soul. You will always find the answers you’re looking for. Yes it can be tough but being self aware is the greatest gift of all. And karma is always about give and take. Learning to accept will take you far. But this doesn’t mean that you accept the bits that hurt you too. Use your voice.

I hope this interpretation resonated with you and that you also enjoyed reading it! Leave me feedback through comments!🥰💜

Love, Roy.

[escapewithbts]

Unexpected Envy (Part One) - Jimin

———————————————

The back of your throat burned as you downed the last sip of your vodka martini. It was already your third of the evening but you had no plan on stopping anytime soon.

Someone else did, however.

"Hey, do you think maybe you should slow down a little, (y/n)?" you best friend Jimin said into your ear from his seat on the couch next to you.

So controlling, you thought. Who is he to tell me to slow down?

In fact, Jimin's words just made you want to drink more.

"Actually, I think I'll have another. I'll be right back," you told him, standing up and walking away before he could protest.

As you made your way to the bar, you glanced back and noticed his worried expression follow you. You knew his words were out of care, not out of judgement, but that almost made it worse.

You see, you were a walking stereotype. You had fallen in love with your best friend. At first you avoided telling him, too afraid of his reaction. But you thought you saw signs. Thought maybe he felt something, too. So you went for it. You wanted that whole "best friends fall in love fairytale ending" crap.

But you didn't get it. You told Jimin how you felt about him. A week ago to this day as a matter of fact. But it wasn't a fairytale ending. It was a nightmare. He had said the words no one confessing their feelings wants to hear... "I just want to stay friends", along with a "You deserve someone who can focus fully on you" but "I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship because you mean a lot to me". Straight out of a Rom-Com.

What they don't show in Rom-Coms is the hurt. The one who gets rejected cries and eats chocolate ice cream while listening to sad music and watching classic romance movies.

But in reality it's not like that. No, you were so heartbroken you could literally feel the ache in your chest; it had been like that for a week straight. You could hardly sleep. You wanted to go back to the time before you had said anything, when the idea of you and Jimin happily in a relationship was just a figment of your imagination.

You couldn't stop being his friend, though. Not having Jimin at all was worse than not having him as your significant other. So through all the pain, you had to smile, had to pretend like it wasn't that big of a deal. Just play it off and act like you were fine with the fact that you and Jimin were only ever going to be just friends.

But as the week went on it was getting harder and harder to pretend like nothing was wrong, especially since you weren't only best friends, but also roommates for the time being. Jimin was letting you stay with him at his penthouse apartment while you got settled in Seoul from moving abroad. It made everything so much worse, having to constantly see him. And Jimin wasn't stupid. He was almost annoyingly observant, always on alert and aware of what the people around him were feeling. He could tell things weren't okay.

Which is why he invited you to his music label's year end company party. They had rented a club just for the talent, their management and agents and some staff, and everyone was allowed to bring a plus one. So here you were. Jimin's plus one.... but only ever as a friend, of course.

"A vodka martini, please!" you shouted to the bartender over the music blasting through the speakers.

You adjusted your black dress that stopped just above your knees and showed off your shape perfectly. At least you felt like you looked good on the outside.

Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see who it was and became face to face with a member of the band TomorrowxTogether. You remembered his name to be Yeonjun, you had met briefly but only in passing whenever you were at events with Jimin and BTS.

"Hi, you're (y/n), right?" he asked, giving you a warm smile.

You smiled back.

"Yes, and you're Yeonjun. I think we've met a couple times."

He nodded.

"That's right. Did you come here with Jimin-hyung?"

You answered with a nod as the bartender placed your fresh drink on the counter next to you.

"Ah okay, okay, I thought so. He's a really great guy, I look up to him a lot. He's also very handsome."

You chuckled politely, impressed by his obvious fluent English.

"Yes, he is."

Tell me something I don't know, you thought.

Yeonjun looked down shyly and continued,

"I hope it is not too bold of me to ask, but is Jimin-ah your... ar-are you two, you know... together?"

Your stomach flipped and you immediately had to take a big swig of your martini.

No, but thanks for the reminder.

You smiled at him the best you could, trying to radiate confidence even though the question had caused the opposite effect.

"No," you said flatly, "We are just friends."

There was that ache in your chest again.

Yeonjun's face lit up at your response. It was cute, in a puppy-dog sort of way.

"Great, well then, I was wondering if maybe... you'd like to dance with me?"

This was perfect, exactly what you needed. A nice distraction from the man who didn't want you who was waiting for you back at the booth. Yeonjun seemed kind enough, and you had just enough liquid courage running through your veins to not care about making a fool of yourself on the dance floor.

Jimin who?

"Yes," you set your fourth empty glass on the bar and smiled, "I would like to dance with you."

Yeonjun took your hand and lead you out to the dancefloor. The music was so loud you could hardly hear yourself think, but you preferred it that way. You and Yeonjun made your way towards the middle, shifting through dancing bodies all around you. You faced each other and starting moving back and forth to the beat.

"I'm not a good dancer!" you yelled to him.

He smiled sweetly back at you.

"It's okay! Just follow my lead!"

He then grabbed your hand in his and twirled you under it, then wrapped his arms around your waist from behind before spinning you out away from him. Your hair swung around you, and you threw up your free arm before ending up back in Yeonjun's arms. You continued dancing this way, him taking the lead and keeping you close while still being respectful. You were having so much fun, and for the first time in a week none of your thoughts consisted of Jimin.

"You're a great dancer!" you shouted to Yeonjun as he twirled you around again.

"I've had a little practice!" he yelled back, earning himself a giggle from you which caused him to grin.

All of a sudden, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a red blazer shuffling through the crowded dance floor and heading towards the two of you. You knew who it was.

You felt a warm hand on the middle of your back. The mere contact made your heart pound.

You and Yeonjun stopped dancing. Why did it feel like you were both suddenly in trouble?

"Ah, oh, hello, Jimin-hyung!" Yeonjun smiled and bowed deeply at the older boy who had appeared in front of him.

Jimin nodded his head back at him but his face showed no emotion.

"Yeonjun," he replied curtly.

Then he turned to you. The look on his face caught you by surprise. His eyes were dark, his face looked so stoic it almost frightened you. He didn't look like the happy, caring Jimin he usually was. You weren't sure what he was feeling, but he looked almost evil, and dare you say... sexy?

Stop! You scolded yourself. You had to stand your ground.

"(y/n)-ah..." he began, staring straight into your eyes and cocking his head, "it's getting kind of late, don't you think? I'm leaving now and I believe I am your ride."

You noticed Yeonjun's face turn into panic, fearing he disrespected his older hyung by keeping you. But you were your own person, Jimin brought you here but he didn't own you.

"Then go, Jimin, it's okay," you wrapped your hand around Yeonjun's forearm and stepped closer to him, "I'm having a lot of fun with Yeonjun so I think I'll stay."

Jimin didn't take his eyes off yours. Yeonjun shifted uncomfortably but couldn't stop the sheepish grin from appearing on his lips at the mention of you having fun with him.

"But how will you get home?" Jimin asked, clearly impatient.

You waved your hand.

"Oh I'll just take a taxi or something, don't worry about it, I'll figure it out."

There was a pause as the two of you stared at each other. You knew what Jimin was thinking, he was your best friend after all. You could tell he was not happy with you staying here without him, almost like he was telepathically urging you to come with him. But he couldn't fight your independence and knew it was pointless to try. You watched his face fall briefly, like a look of sadness, but then a signature warm, eyes-almost-closed Jimin smile appeared and he reached out to shake Yeonjun's hand.

"Okay, okay, well then you take care of her, Yeonjun," he said in Korean, "She's my best friend, you know."

You internally winced at his use of those words. Yeonjun bowed.

"Yes, of course, Hyung."

Jimin turned back to you. He looked a little defeated, and the side of you that cared about him so much more than you have ever cared about another human being suddenly felt badly about him leaving without you.

He leaned in to you so you could hear him better, his full pink lips barely grazing your ear. Your whole body broke out in goosebumps.

"Just... be careful, (y/n)-ah." he whispered, before stepping back and giving you a smile.

Then he lifted his ring-covered fingers in a wave and turned, disappearing into the sea of people.

*

Part Two

Masterlist

[youwontlikethisblog]

Betty, My Betty! Part 2.5 (Hopefully the last one)

Alrighty, I think this will be my last post for tonight? This morning? But it is still in the same vine of Armando being possessive so he is the main subject of this breakdown but I will also be discussing Mario a lot here so this in an attempt to be the final post regarding this episode will be a lengthy one.

Again I accidently bought the bootleg version of the novela so some scenes and episodes are missing as well as the chapters aren't titled.

We are in the same episode of Armando reacting to Betty having a boyfriend.

Right now Betty is exiting her office, she just hung up the phone with Nicolas who warned her that they needed to pay a loan to the bank because their 24 or 27 days were up.

Mario is leaning over Armando's desk and Armando is leaning forward as they are both discussing and whispering (that part is so short you can't really pick at what they're talking about but you can imagine what it is. I'm assuming that while Mario was telling Armando not to question or judge Betty on her personal life that Betty was in her office on the phone with Nicolas and when Mario leaned forward to talk to Armando Betty was about to end her call so they are essentially talking about how to go about finding out who Betty's boyfriend is) something I cannot hear. As Betty fully exits her office Mario moves from being up front to in the back of the room by the doors that take us to the meeting room. He looks Betty down and up as if checking her out.

This small frame(I don't know if when they were whispering it was them arguing over Mario's proposal of the plan or if Mario hadn't proposed it yet and it was just them talking about how to find out who Nicolas is because again, since this bootleg version isn't the complete one some scenes are missing so I could be wrong about this one! but the episode I saw on NBC showed the exact same scene so I'm going by the first "(red)" in the paragraph above) allows us to depict Mario coming up or starting to scheme the plan.

We know Mario Calderon will screw anything that has legs, wears skirts, and breathes and consents that is(<-hopefully). Every woman who has had a seggsual relationship with him has said so. Marcela warned Paty about it before they got involved so I'm assuming that in this scene Mario is checking out Betty to see if it's possible for someone to really love(lust) her and if not than he needs to figure out a plan and a way to convince Armando to follow through said plan.

When you're writing a novel you write down the key points you want to make but as you imagine certain scenes you really delve into detail of characterization. You make sure that whatever happens in that scene that your characters behave as themselves. So you really spend time getting to know your characters. This is a general rule of thumb for any creative writer. The plus of being a novelist or writing literature is that you can really go deep into details and write scenes in really long poetic ways. I don't know how to write scripts but I've read some from TV shows I've watched and they are written differently than a novel. Scripts have more dialogue than poetic descriptions and they are usually blunt with what the writer wants from each character in that scene.

For example: (Take this with a grain of salt I don't know how to write scripts I am going off based on how I've read them)

Ana walks into the room. The camera focuses on her face. There's lighting outside and we see the lighting flash on her face.

Julian turns to see her. He is surprised to see her. He thought she was dead. He stands up slowly. The camera focuses on his face and then Ana's.

She smiles at him, tears forming in her eyes.

"Is that re-really you?" He stutters. He then walks slowly towards her.

In a script you write where the camera goes, where the actors move, the facial expressions, the mood of the room, and so forth. Yes directors do have a say on how they choreograph scenes and actors can add their own two cents but script writers have a pretty good idea of everything that is going on the scene and why it is. If in novel writing(that's not the correct term) we focus a lot on how the reader will imagine the scene and being able to correctly and artistically discribe it as well as how they will understand it because we are not focusing on visual cues like script writers but rather focused on using words to be able to paint a inner visual picture than in scripts the writer usually focuses on tone and movement. The same rule still stands though; show don't tell.

Why do I even bring this up?

This helps us understand that what is shown here isn't just an accident. We aren't being fed what we're told, we are being fed what we see. What we see is the final vision of the writer. Fernando Gaitan was the only one to write this novel and he wrote every detail with the intention of it to mean something.

I have no doubt that the actors added their own flavor as they are excellent actors and the reason why we were able to fall in love with these character. The directing is amazing as well. The scene cuts, the frames, and the choreo are amazing(tho some stills are funny and y'all know which ones) but the writing has a lot to do with it. If anyone is a script writer or knows what that's about correct me if I'm wrong!

I say this because what we are being told and shown is that Armando had feelings for Betty and not a crush like Betty did. He actually cared about her, as a friend. I know many don't agree with that because Armando was a crappy boss. We see them always interact as boss and employee but the reason why I continue to bring up the fact that he started to blur those lines is because we were being told and shown that.

Armando is mechanical. He is emotionless to the outsiders. As he once told Betty that she probably thinks he is a man of ice and later on in the future we see Betty daydream telling Marcela that she knows Armando acts like he's got a heart of stone but deep inside of him he needs a lot of love. However Armando isn't a man of iron and he tells that to Betty himself.

We are told this but what are we shown?

We are shown an erratic, often driven by emotion, and neutronic person. Now the people he has surrounded himself with aren't the most loving and welcoming people. They are pretty judgy and stuck up. So often the emotions he shows and knows how to distinguish well are anger, frustration, and most of all being erratic with the emotions mentioned above. These emotions drive him. The people around him think that he is a man of stone and that nothing moves him. However we then meet a woman who isn't like that at all or like any of the people he has surrounded himself with.

This person is kind, loving, respectful, and sweet to everyone. She loves her job, loves her friends, loves her family and secretly loves her boss. In a very poetic way Betty is color in an otherwise black and white world. She brings warmth to Armando and because they work so closely, how is he not supposed to be affected by this? How is he not supposed to be changed and moved by this?

He is an awe of her morals, of Betty's qualities and her general presence and though we aren't bluntly told this by the characters themselves we are shown this and it's not by accident and not by mistakes of post production.

Take a break if you need it.

It isn't an accident that we see Mario so much in these scenes just standing in the background taking it all in because he truly is the mastermind behind Betty's downfall. He truly mapped out and planned the way to seduce Betty and how to manipulate Armando and didn't even care if it hurt her or his best friend. What he cared about was that his best friend remained President because titles mean everything to him. As we saw in the past when Armando and him were arguing over the deal with the Panamanian fabric seller, while Armando focused on how it not only affected him and the major shareholders but everyone, Mario reminded him that he was also a minority shareholder, but a shareholder nonetheless. Armando's inner turmoil was that he was jeopardizing the livelihood of not only the company's shareholders, and his family but the entire company's employee roster while Mario was more focused on himself, telling him that he too had a lot to lose but not understanding what really weighted down Armando's shoulders.

Think about it, Mario in a sense is a leech. He gets the crumbs of women Armando doesn't want. If I'm not mistaken in the spinoff Eco Moda Mario himself says that women only ever showed interest in him because they wanted to get close to Armando. Mario lives off of the crumbs of Armando, not only with women but socially. Armando is one of the major shareholders of Eco Moda, he's attractive, charismatic, and an important figure in society and not only among the Fashion world like Mario is. Mario Calderon wasn't going to let his best friend lose the title of being President for anything because than it would be bad for him. It would be bad for his reputation to have been his close friend and accomplice to Armando while also being a part of a disastrous presidency term in the company.

Mario is charismatic, one could even say a lot more than Armando seeing as I myself even like him even when I know all of this about his character. I find him funny, charming, and at times endearing but of course that's when you look at him on a surface level.

Mario Calderon is despicable. He is downright selfish and egocentric down to the bone. He maps out this plan so easily because he knows his two victims well. He has seen Armando's disagreements with Marcela, he has witnessed first hand Armando's change towards Betty and silently observed Betty's interactions with Armando. He himself has thrown out his conclusions on Betty's actions by a simple snip bits of conversation that he's either been in the room to hear or heard from Armando himself.

Who better to make Betty fall in love than Armando? Because Betty has those feelings there and who better to do be the one to do this than Armando? Not only because those feelings are there but because Armando can stomach the job. The man who is confused about his feelings and behaving erratically and emotionally driven than Armando?

Because Armando proposes for Calderon to do it. At first Calderon is grossed out by the idea but Armando presents everything telling him he isn't the boss, that he has no morals and he was perfect for the job. Mario agrees with all of that, even asks for a bigger percentage of shareholding and Armando agrees. This gives us the understanding that Mario would be willing to seduce Betty.

I realize this contradicts my own personal opinion that Armando agreed to do this because it meant he was saving Betty from Nicolas but lets remember that Armando was afraid to face those feelings and he wasn't even aware that they were there. Here Armando and Mario weren't talking about love, as he thinks Betty is so in love with Nicolas that he is her eternal love and that Nicolas would take advantage of that and poison her against them, they are talking about seduction, meaning seggsual. Which I've said before Armando thinks lust is love and therefore that if he ain't wanting to jump they bones in that instant that it cain't be love therefore my mans thought he had no feelings for Betty(idk why bc we do get two scenes where he checks her out briefly (I am sure of this because it's the episode where Betty tripped and was limping and when Mario brought it up Armando asked if she didn't already walk like that, if he had been noticing her walk than he would have been aware of the limp but his eyesight went from the top of Betty's head all the way down. Do with that information what you'd like :)) and where he gets jealous when Charlie Zas kissed her cheek(someone once said that they were celos de jefe and excuse me ma'am jealousy is jealousy and a normal boss would not feel that. If my boss or manager ever did that I woulda done been fired in that instant))

Take a break if you need it.

Okay return back to this scene.

While Calderon does this mila second rundown of Betty, Armando and him share a stare. Either Armando wants the room to himself or is looking at him for a confidence boost. Then Mario nods and lets him know he'll leave them be.

Armando sticks to the script by not removing his trust from Betty. Instead he encourages her and congratulates her on doing things well.

In this scene while Betty has been entirely focused on the work at hand and being professional Mario was busy assessing the situation while Armando... is hard to read here. He is keeping himself composed rather than being emotionally driven or erratic or neurotic. In truth he is showing one of his best traits so far, composure. When he is sure of what he wants to happen Armando is really good at keep composure, feelings at bay, and controlling the situation. Something he later loses as he begins to get more lost and confused in his own feelings and understanding them.

Betty here is endearing, honestly I find Betty endearing at all times lol. She's super cute and such a good sport since her character is written to capture your heart, not by sympathy but by empathy. Again just like Armando how are we not supposed to be affected by such a sweet character? Constantly putting her feelings aside for Armando's, who hasn't done that? We empathize with her because at some point or another we've been her and ironically it's the exact same reason why we sympathize and empathize with Armando because at some point or another we've all been there where we let the worse get the best of us and we've learned to live with it and deal with it same as he.

As Betty starts to leave the office Armando calls her name, stands up in a slow but steady way showing us that he is the one in control in this situation. His tone is controlled but not enough where you don't hear that resent.

"Betty you didn't hadn't told me you've got a boyfriend"

Betty looks taken aback by this behavior of his. As she stares at him a bit shocked and rocks on her feet, seeming uncomfortable with this but also worried.

Armando proceeds to say "and that that boyfriend is Nicolas Mora, your friend from university. The one you've got in Terra Moda" Notice how now there is a waiver in his voice and he no longer is being as composed or in control of his emotions. As he for split seconds allows those emotions of jealousy and possessiveness to sweep through his tone of voice.

In this scene Armando isn't so much giving us body language as he is stiff, showing nervousness and discomfort himself, often we see this whenever Marcela is interrogating him but he is giving us tonality in voice.

Again the sequence as he names the list of what and who Nicolas is shows priority. First, Nicolas is Betty's boyfriend, that guy she's talked about who she went to university with, and she's got him working in Terra Moda. His priority: Betty has a boyfriend. He knows who said boyfriend is and he knows what he does.

Betty tells him that she doesn't have a boyfriend: "Ay ay no Doctor, eso no es cierto." Betty normally has a waiver her voice whenever she's nervous or scared so it's not unlike her to have it here, she smiles and chuckles nervously. In translation what she says is lost so by interpretation this is what she said "Hmm? No sir... um that's not true."

Armando's tone is now accusing her. He seems angered by Betty's "denial" as he tells her "It's not true? I heard it-" we then get a frame of Betty's reaction. She is truly concerned over this as we later find out at the end of the day that she was worried that it could cause Don Armando to build distrust towards her. Again we are shown that Betty is keeping it all professional whilst Armando isn't.

"I heard when Bertha told you, right in front of me. [Y'all] started gossiping, didn't notice I was there. You both forgot about me, no Betty?"* He is shaking as if agitated and he sports a cocky smile because he feels like he caught her in her own lie.

[*]This could be taken in a double sense. In his eyes Betty was so excited about hearing that her "eternal love" called her that she forgot he was in the room and in a figurative way, Betty forgot him.

Betty's understanding of his behavior is rational. He's upset that she withheld vital information from him after she told him she had nothing else to hide(when he interrogated her the previous night) and this is related to a professional work related situation.

Armando now sports similar traits to that of Marcela when she is looking for reasons to act out on her anger. Armando is agitated as stated before and while Betty goes to explain herself Armando grabs his glass of whisky, not taking his eyes off Betty and drinks(cantinero, otro whisky!(Now his behavior here is very interesting because as he grabs the glass to drink from it he takes in a deep breath. At first I interpreted this for anger but after seeing it a few times I realize it's panic. While at first he was composed and sure of what he was feeling which was anger, now he is faced with uncertainty from feelings he doesn't recognize and he doesn't know where this conversation is going to head or how he'll react or feel so he enters panic mode)). She tells him that it was something the cuartel came up with because she once mentioned Nicolas and since then they haven't gotten it out of their heads that he is her boyfriend "I don't have anything with him."

Then relief starts to wash over him as Betty's final words are reassuring him that she doesn't have a boyfriend. In this frame Armando no longer has a drink in hand and he doesn't seem as tense as before.

"Definite? We're sure of that?"

Betty chuckles and nods and his tone of voice returns to being soft spoken and calm, even hopeful as he tells her "Okay, okay it was only curiosity." (What kind of curiosity tho?;))

Betty leaves his office and has a slight smile and was on the brink of a daydream when Sofia interupts her from doing that.

I have this dumb theory where Aura Maria and Freddy are in some way a parallel of Betty and Armando except that Aura Maria takes on the role of Armando while Freddy takes on the role of Betty and if y'all want I'll write a post explaining this.

Take a break if you need it.

Skip a scene we've got Armando interacting with Freddy. Usually everyone pays the burnt of Armando's anger and in this scene he looks anything but angry. He actually humors Freddy which allows us to know that after that conversation with Betty, he has one less problem(you know the one that topped all the others). He then laughs at Freddy(I find it ironic that Freddy told him that what Jenny and him have is strictly professional at which Armando laughs and repeats the same thing. The reason I find it ironic is because we as an audience know that what J & F have is not strictly professional and the conversation Armando just had with Betty wasn't strictly profession. In other words, Fernando Gaitan has a good sense of humor) and tells him to show him his lil dancy dance and leaves to go to Mario's Office.

When he enters his office he informs him he spoke to Betty about that infamous boyfriend.

"What did she say?" Mario asks.

"Well no, that she doesn't have a boyfriend." his smiles and says happily. He the catches him up on the gossip.

While Armando is now showing an array of emotion and excitement Mario is poker face, fidgeting with his pen and studying Armando.

He tells him "You know what this means? That I'm a happy man!" he chuckles and looks around the room as if really taking in the news and letting the relief settle in. "What a relief, finally some good news today, ah" he says the final part as if he were an italian chef. This lets us know that Armando is truthfully relieved to find out that Betty, his Betty is single and that he is still her special man.

In the previous post I talked about how Armando went about listening his excuses to start drinking early that day and how he basically went going from his smallest problem to the biggest one as he says that the one that topped all of his other problems was Betty having a boyfriend.

See, all his other problems were a cause of stress and anger, emotions he is very familiar with so they don't disconcert him however, jealousy or fear of losing Betty, are new territory for him that alone freaked him out but the fact Betty had a boyfriend was enough to just push the boy just close enough to the edge he needed a drink so early in the morning because it was anguish.

Mario tells him he has never seen him so relieved and happy to find out a woman doesn't have a boyfriend to which we pan out to see Armando roll his eyes and slouch against the chair, annoyed at Mario's insinuation once again.

Mario reminds him of the last time he saw that same expression on him which was when he found out some woman was separated from her husband. Armando then tells him not to diminish the good news because it meant Betty hadn't ommited any information from him.

To really bring this post to the full potential of it being analytical let us break this down.

Why was it important for him that Betty not omit information from him? Especially relating to something so personal and intimate of Betty's life outside of the office? (Again the argument that this is only about Eco Moda and Terra Moda are disproven in the previous post).

[EDIT: Sometimes as I write I've got two ideas at the same time and forget to finish writing them. It wasn't only important for the reasons mentioned below but because he does in fact want to know more about Betty as he later tells Bertha the same thing].

Armando went through the five stages of grief.

Anger, denial, anger, denial, more denial, and then moving on.

He did not accept that Betty had a boyfriend therefore when she told him she didn't he fully believed her, didn't ask more questions.

For Armando Betty's character means a lot. I don't mean the individual personification of Betty as a fictional character in this novela I mean as in her inner self and what she represent. To him Betty represent stability, comfort, unconditionality, honesty, and most of all fidelity and loyalty and the last three qualities are what he is always naming. If she withheld something from him it would mean that Betty was no longer that. She no longer would be an object of reassurance and comfort but like everyone else she'd become an unpredictable and untrustworthy individual in his life. Some one more that he needed to keep at arm's length or pretend around.

Armando has gotten a taste of being around someone who doesn't judge him when he is himself and doesn't hold it over him when he makes mistakes based on his neurotic nature or anger issues. Instead he has been around someone who understand he's like that, someone who is patient and knows how to call him out on it and how to handle his erratic behavior so he has learned to let his guard down little by little and found a niche of comfort in his assistant but if she lied to him it would take all of that away. It would be betrayal in his eyes.

That's why it was so important to him that Betty didn't keep secret from him. Especially seeing as they were forming a friendship that was based on honesty and respect towards each other. This explains why that was important to him. It's important for him to have trust in her.

However we ain't kidding anyone because his reaction was possessive over Betty because Betty has given all of these things to Armando, who has never really received them without some fine print, and he doesn't want to share her with anyone else. This is possessiveness and it is not love or romantic. It is a toxic trait because not one person belongs to someone and Armando feels that Betty belongs to him. Be it romantically, platonically, or work related, a person is a human being and they do not belong as an object or property to anyone.

Armando is a very emotionally immature individual and this shows us that.

Mario then proceeds to be his classical self, which is to sow the seed of paranoia in his best friend as he starts to point out that her friends wouldn't be saying that if Betty hadn't given them a reason. His hands clasped in front of him show a position of power. Right now he is holding the cards and he is well aware of that.

Right as he see the reaction he wanted from Armando he leaves him to ferment so to speak in the paranoia he has left in him. Armando becomes nervous all over again and susceptible to it.

He is left with himself and he says "Y quien es el.." now if you're hispanic or latino you'll find the humor in how that scene ends as he starts to sing in a sorrowful tone a very romantic and a song that I'd say most listen to when dealing with a break up "y en que lugar se enamoro de ti?"

Which translate to "And what is he like? and in what place did he fall in love with you?"

I won't read too much into that as I'm sure it was written in for humor or added in for the humor effect as we've had some pretty heavy emotionally driven scenes in this episode but I do think it's an ironic placement of humor.

Now to bring the final scene that I will be discussing regarding Armando finding out about Betty's boyfriend we come full circle with Armando asking Bertha about it.

He acts charismatic, composed and professional to get Bertha to talk to him.

"The subject is the following: I've got a long time working with Betty and It's just until now that I find out she's got boyfriend. Do you know who he is?"

"Well like really know? No, because she's so reserved"

He then with a pierced mouth nods. Again those feelings are creeping back up. I get it. He's feeling paranoia, distrust, betrayed, hurt, offended, scared, jealous, possessive and angry but this proves what I mentioned about Armando having his guard up at all times because he doesn't show any of this to Bertha, at least not enough where she picks up but because we as an audience are given so much detail regarding his character, we can.

Quickly he asks her "And you don't know how long she's been dating him?" brings us full circle again. The same tone he had with Betty when he told her that he was in the same room as her when Bertha said that she had a boyfriend, minus the smirk and actual reaction of his, once again proves that Armando knows when to show his reaction and how to be in control and composed.

Bertha proceeds to tell him the "actual" story in which she tells him "dating dating? No, but he does have her eating from the palm of his hand because she's stupidly in love with him." and we hear Armando gasp and say "No." we then get a frame of his face which shows us... the opiset of happiness, joy, relief, tranquility, peace, serenity but with someone trying to be composed.

Bertha tells him that Mariana read her the cards and said that he was Betty's dream man and that he was going to change her life and she was going to change his life. I don't care for that but for the sake of this breakdown I'll mention it.

We know that Betty's dream man is Armando, not Nicolas. However everyone else thinks it's Nicolas. Armando's facial expression shows someone once again panicking.

He not only finds out that Betty has boyfriend, now it turns out she didn't just omit something from him but lied when he asked her and to top it off she so happens to be stupidly in love with him and on top of all of that he is Betty's dream man and to finish it off, he will change her life and she will change his life in the mildest of riches, meaning with Betty becoming the sole owner of Eco Moda and Terra Moda, making her rish rish $$$.

This is when it no longer is just about his mixed up feelings for Betty but now the entire livelihood of his family and everyone that works for Eco Moda.

Eco Moda is Armando's pride and joy. He does love that company which is why he started that scheme in the first place because he didn't want to lose it, let his father down, prove Daniel right, and throw away 30 plus year of his father's work and life time(Also as we're told because of his goals). The company means a great deal to him and in ways he's not aware of yet, so does Betty.

However someone is aware of this, not to the deep knowledge that Armando has regarding whatever he thinks he is feels towards Betty but they've got some sort of idea regarding this and they innact and come up with a plan to secure the company, the presidency, and his statues and reputation.

Step one: Tell Armando that he needs to make Betty fall in love with him to secure the company. Women in love will do anything for the one they love therefore if he beats Nicolas to the goal we secure the company. It worked with Paty(he's stupid so his logic doesn't work)

Step two: Convince Armando that he is the right candidate for the job. If that doesn't work, manipulate him with paranoia and make him fear Betty. If that doesn't work, tell him you were sure that Betty was in love with him before you found out about Nicolas.

Step three: Tell Armando I will be in charge of all the corny details because he will freak out and get way over his head and ruin the plan.

Step four: make fun of him.

Step five: Go on a trip and write a letter that explains the entire plan in detail and leave it on my desk without telling my secretary to not let anyone touch it or go near it except Armando so that she can go into my office, and I know how she likes to be nosy, and she can then think it's in the wrong office and give it to her assistant who takes care of all of his stuff, literally, and she finds it, reads it and does exactly what I was afraid of and made my best friend afraid of as well and that will then bring her downfall, his downfall, therefore the entire company's downfall.

Step six: never realize how stupid I am or take full accountability for it and apologize sincerely for all the wrong and harm I have caused.

Obviously I'm not saying Armando is innocent or that he didn't do anything wrong. He did. He allowed his best friend to manipulate him when he said he wouldn't listen to him again(the panama thing), he allowed his best friend to make fun of Betty and was a coward to admit his true feelings not only to himself but to his best friend. He was a willing(felt guilty for it but nonetheless willing) participant in the plan.

By now breaking down these past episodes and scenes allows us to understand where Armando was coming from so we can sympathize just a bit for him and his confusion and how he was so easily manipulated by Mario, however this doesn't mean he isn't guilty. At the start of it he too to some degree thought no one could love Betty, (yes we later find out that he did care for her as he tells Mario that he feels endearment for Betty and he looks relieved to find that out. I will be breaking down that scene when I get to it) because of her physicality (I already talked about this but when the time is right I will go into deep detail regarding this part of Armando's character).

It is eleven AM. I have been writing this post for the past seven hours and I am beat and tired. I hope this makes sense.

Once again, 'til next time.

HAHAHA OKAY I FORGOT TO ADD SOME COMMENTARY ON THE REST OF THIS SCENE.

[Edit:

Bertha proceeds to tease Armando about him liking gossip and being Nosey. He gets annoyed at her but in order to get the information he wants he stays composed and tells her that he just wants to know about Betty.

"It's not that[I like gossip], it's just that this is about someone who is really close to me everyday-who I work really close with- and truth be told I am a little curious about Betty's life. You know, one just imagine her a little ugly and with boyfriend...? You know? Why don't you tell me the whole thing?"

At first he is a being defensive while trying to justify the fact he is being nosey. His tone then changes to endearing as he tells her "truth be told I am a little curious about Betty's life." and his face goes along with the tone as he says "you know, one just imagines her a little ugly-" he catches himself and say "and with boyfriend...?"

Overall what we have learned here is that Armando is really good at dismissing his feelings on the spot, suppressing them, and running away from them(I too do that and it's a pain in the butt). He does this as a sport.

Bertha then tells him "The thing is that Betty doesn't like it much for you to know about her private life." and this again offends Armando as he straightens his face and stares at Bertha in shock and as Bertha says "How is it, Sir..." and he quickly sits down to listen to her. "that this morning when we left your office she pulled me aside and told me that she didn't want you to know about her intimate life?" he rubs his chin, eyes still on Bertha and whispers "Really?"

Armando knows that Bertha can't tell half a gossip so instead of asking her to keeping telling him, practically begging her to tell him the whole scoop he manipulates her by saying "If this is going to cause problems then don't tell me. Let's leave it as is, Bertha, thank you." his tone is somber to tug at her strings, how could she possibly leave this man curious over this juicy gossip? and how could she not tell the whole story? Especially because it's her boss?

Bertha chuckles and tells him that she, of course is going to tell him, that she is dying to tell him. Armando then tells her "Well then if this is between us two it doesn't leave the planet, go on, tell me how did it go?"

Armando starts to bit his nail as he listen to Bertha start from the beginning.

She tells him word for word what Mariana said about Betty's dream man. She's obviously describing Armando, but to everyone else that's Nicolas, so the impression or idea that Armando now has of Nicolas is that he isn't some loser or nerd or some nobody but he is an important man who is the type of man woman lust over. They will have an intense relationship that will be strong and that the man is fundamental for her life.

This describes a man that is both important and that will be for sure in Betty's life.

Now Bertha goes on to describe the man Betty told them about. He is desired by woman,tall, handsome, strong, isn't rich but has money, has a big car, and his name is Nicolas Mora. However Betty clearifies that she has nothing going on with him, that she just likes him and she feels a strong attraction to him but that nothing has happened between them.

Then Mariana tells her that something will happen because it will change both of their lives.

Take into account that though Betty's life in a personal aspect hasn't changed much in the professional aspect it has. She's got a respectable job, a boss who values her work ethic and her enough to hand over his company which means she's could be rich. She's abandon some of her morals to collaborate with her scheming boss and is doing things that aren't morally correct.

Armando's life has changed not only professionally but personally. For one he's begun to let his guard down and given more of himself to a woman he isn't in a relationship or knowingly attracted to, his relationship with Marcela is only getting worse and Betty is usually the center of their biggest fights, he has now built a friendship with said woman built on trust and respect, something he has never done with any other woman and of course professionally he has sunken his and his family's company into debt.

I'd say Armando's life is changing a lot and that's not even the peak of it. Betty's life is also changing a lot and they haven't even started dating.

Armando is aware of how Betty's life is changing on a work related level so he obviously believes everything Bertha is telling him because he knows things she doesn't know.

Impatiently and annoyed Armando tells Bertha to explain what she means by "it's going to change their lives." which again since he "knows" things Bertha doesn't, therefore Tweedledum has sowed the seed of paranoia and Tweedledee has given it the perfect terrain for it to flourish so Armando is now listening to Mario's voice that Betty could turn against them though the important thing to note here is that Armando isn't mistrusting of Betty instead he is really mistrusting of Nicolas, because again, who could really fall in love with "ugly" betty. Except that's a joke on it's own because the idiot was already having feelings for her.

They are interrupted by Guti Guti and this is where I will end this post.

Truthfully until next time. ]

[trashyswitch]

Oh For Fox Sake!

Michael didn't expect to be given a completely separate job besides the technician job he signed up for in Circus Baby's Pizza World. Now he's sitting in an office with animatronics hunting them down. One of the animatronics happens to be another foxy abbreviation. But this one...gives him many mixed emotions...

This fanfic was suggested by an anonymous person on Tumblr. Whoever you are: I hope you enjoy!

Also, I had no clue what gender to make Lolbit. So, I just gave Lolbit the pronouns they/them/it and followed it throughout. Please let me know if I mistyped anywhere! I'll try to fix it right away.

Michael was sitting in the small private office that had been hidden in the side of one of the PizzaPlex’s auditoriums. He had been working at the Pizzeria as a technician, and was just now given a few security guard shifts. This office was surprisingly a little bigger than the vents. It was also much more darker, and had PizzaPlex merchandise hidden on the table. It even had a black fan roaring away on the desk. Learning from general online rumors, every office that was built within every building made by Fazbear Entertainment, would have Fazbear merchandise and a fan. Some person named [Fitz-coward] on a public chat room called it the ‘Fazfan’. A few other people had given their own opinion on the ‘fazfan’ and even made jokes about it. It was kinda funny at first. But now that it had relevance on a personal level, it actually made sense.

It’s amazing what a few bouts of curiosity will lead you to find…And those poor guys...They’ve probably dealt with so much fear after that job.

Michael checked the tablet and checked the cameras that were available to him. He had to keep an eye on a couple specific animatronics such as Ennard, Funtime Freddy with tiny Bonbon, and Lolbit. Michael hadn’t even heard of Lolbit until this point. Who in the heck was Lolbit?! Only when he saw the orange animatronic staring at him through the hall camera, did he get his answer. It looked to be a twin version of Funtime Foxy. But was it Foxy’s brother? Or sister? What gender even was it? Now that he thought about it: What gender is Foxy?!

Michael heard sounds coming from the left hallway, and noticed that Lolbit was back with its jaw open and ready to crush. Michael bit his lip and closed the door on it. Out of this room! Begone! Scat! Leeeeaaave! He was not in the mood for Lolling around.

Hehehe...Lolling…

Michael looked at the hallways and groaned. Ennard’s broken body was on his way too. Wonderful… Michael kept his hand on the open door and made sure to leave some time to close it on the evil monstrosity. Michael looked over at the other hallway, and noticed that Lolbit was gone. So closed went the right door, and open went the left. Ennard was now locked out, and Lolbit was long gone.

Michael smiled and checked the right door to make sure Ennard was unable to get in. When he was sure, Michael relaxed slightly.

One thing Michael noticed was just how quickly the day seemed to be going. It was already 3:30 and the animatronics were being at least a little more behaved. It’s weird and usually worrisome whenever he does anything involving the animatronics. Whether it’s a loving animatronic like Funtime Freddy and BonBon, or a vengeful animatronic like Ennard, Michael didn’t wanna have anything to do with either. He’s seen enough of the animatronics behaviour to say “I’m out”.

And yet...here he was: back at it again with more shifts.

Hearing sounds, Michael closed the left door again. But suddenly, an ear-deafening bang overwhelmed Michael’s ears.

A few seconds later, another loud bang went off.

...And another.

One last bang filled his pain-filled ears as the huge metal door he closed earlier, started to fall in front of him. Michael shrieked and covered his ears, watching in horror as the huge door came crashing down just inches in front of him. Michael was visibly shaking from the super loud noises. His ears were ringing as well. It was like a gun just went off beside his ear multiple times!

Just as the metal sound slowly stopped echoing throughout the room, some loud and boyish laughter filled the office. “HOHAHAHAHAha! Now I bet you weren’t ex-xpecting ME, now WERE you? OhOHOHOhahaha!” a manic voice asked.

Michael widened his eyes in horror as he scooted to the corner of the room. “No...NO!”

“Oh YES! HAHAHAHAhah! You-u RECOGNIZE ME! DONTCHA?” They asked.

Michael grabbed his flashlight and started flashing it nonstop into the animatronic’s eyes. “Get out of here! This is MY private spot!”

Lolbit walked closer and hit the flashlight right out of his hands. “Su-Such a BAAABY…” Lolbit muttered out loud. “Hmmm...Maybe try ha-A-A-arder next time! HAHAhaHAHAHaha!” It suggested.

“I DID try harder! YOU’RE the one who broke the door down!” Michael argued.

The animatronic looked down and chuckled awkwardly. “O-Oh yeah! I forgot about tha-A-at!” It reacted.

Michael sighed. “Just please Lolbit...Go.”

The animatronic smiled and walked closer and closer to Michael just to spite him. “Since WHE-E-EN could you tell ME what to do? You’ve got qui-I-I-ite the NERVE!” Lolbit reacted.

“Yeah, I do! And I learned it on my own, thank you very much.” Michael added.

“My My! Such a ta-A-A-alker! I wonder: Does that mo-0-O-outh of yours have a benefit?” Lolbit asked.

“Sometimes. I could use it to lead you away so that I don’t end up dying tonight.” Michael reworded.

“HAhahahAHAHAha! Be ca-A-areful what you wi-I-I-ish for~!” Lolbit teased.

Michael raised an eyebrow.

Lolbit knelt down and picked up Michael by the armpits. Michael shrieked in horror and quickly started wiggling and fighting it. “HEY! GET OFF ME! LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!” Michael shouted.

“Haaaaa...And what will you do-O-O if I DON’T?” Lolbit asked with a sly voice.

“I’ll-I’ll tickle you!” Michael shot back without even properly thinking.

Lolbit widened its eyes and stared at Michael.

“Y-Yeah! I’ll do it! I’m not afraid to tickle you!” Michael added, adding wiggling fingers as he went along with it. “Unless you’re not ticklish…”

Lolbit stared off into the space within Michael’s eyes, and only blinked once out of awkwardness...Then, the fox full on dropped Michael where he was. Michael grunted as he landed on his butt onto the slightly dusty ground.

“Ow…” Michael muttered. “Wait, really?” Michael reacted suddenly. Lolbit turned right around and started to speed walk their way outta there. But Michael quickly pulled himself together and grabbed Lolbit’s foot. “Gotcha!”

“aAAA-A-A-AAAH! HEY! I LET YOU GO!” Lolbit yelled at him.

“Yeah, and that made me curious!” Michael replied. “I might’ve been originally joking when I said that. But the moment you dropped me and tried to run, I HAD to find out if animatronics were ticklish.” Michael told it. “Or, if they can simulate being ticklish.” Michael added. “Same difference in my opinion.”

Lolbit leaned against the wall and shook their leg. “Get off me-E-E!” it yelled.

“No way!” Michael replied. He took advantage of the exposed foot and skittered his fingers on it. “Tickle tickle~”

Lolbit shrieked with voice glitches in between, and threw Michael right off the leg with a strong kick. Michael went flying, and ended up hitting his back against the wall on the other side of the office. Michael groaned and laid on his back for a moment, trying to make sure he didn’t break his back or injure it further. When Michael could feel his legs and see his feet reacting to his movements, Michael sat back up and stood. “Ow...All that because you’re sensitive?” Michael asked.

Lolbit pointed at him. “Stop that!” It ordered. “O-Or I’ll get you back!” Lolbit warned.

Michael looked at himself and smirked. “Sounds like a sacrifice worth taking in my opinion!” Michael sprinted up to Lolbit and dove for them. Lolbit shrieked like a freaking witch, and tried to run away. But Michael had an unfair headstart and had managed to grab hold of its orange and white tail! “LE-e-ET GO-”

Michael managed to shut up the fox with a single squeeze to the side. It helped that Lolbit came with curvy, dented plates on both lower sides! Cause otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have been able to squeeze there.

“HEheheEHEHEY! HAHANDS OHOHohohOFF!” Lolbit yelled.

“Why would I do that when I have a ticklish fox in my arms?” Michael asked back. “This is fun!”

Lolbit shook their head. “IHIHIS NAHAhahaAHAHAT!”

Michael chuckled. “A little reminder that you kicked me across the room just a couple minutes ago. You are much stronger than me. So if you really hated it So MuCh…” Michael moved his fingers up to the middle ribs- “You could easily stop me.” Michael concluded.

“IHIHIT’S A-A-AGAINST MY COHOHODE TOHO HUHURT YOHOHOHOU!” Lolbit yelled.

“Is it now?” Michael asked. “It’s against my code to damage you even minorly! We both have the same laws.” Michael admitted. “And yet: you’ve kicked me already. So you would’ve already ‘hurt’ me. But notice this: no one gave you a controlled shock for throwing me. Therefore:” Michael moved to Lolbit’s orange belly. “Yooouuu kinda like it~”

Lolbit squealed and doubled over. Sensing they were gonna fall, Lolbit pushed Michael out of the way and allowed itself to flop onto its side. “Nohoho...Nohoho moho-O-ohore.” Lolbit begged.

Michael fell a bit backwards, but didn’t hit the ground very hard this time. He got up and looked at Lolbit with interest. “You...saved me.” Michael reacted.

“You’re a hu-U-U-uman! Of COURSE I saved you!” Lolbit opened its jaw. “Ihihi-I-I would be in big trouble if I-i-I damaged you under my care.” Lolbit admitted.

Michael smiled at that. “Thanks for saving me from being crushed.” Michael told it.

Lolbit giggled. “Are you ca-A-alling me fat?” Lolbit asked jokingly.

Michael widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “NO! NO WAY! I would never call you fat! ESPECIALLY intentionally!” Michael reacted loudly.

Lolbit bursted out laughing. “HAHAHAhahahahAHAHA! Yohohou’re so GULLiBLE! It’s HI-i-ILARIOUS!” Lolbit reacted, leaning over and laughing towards the ground.

Michael smirked. “You wanna laugh, huh? Alright! Let’s laugh.” Michael crawled back up to the fox and grabbed the ankle. Lolbit’s giggles quickly paused and were replaced with shrieked of artificial fear! “Wa-A-ait!” Lolbit yelled.

Michael started tickling the underside of the feminine-looking foot almost right away. Lolbit started kicking their other foot and covered its snout as it laughed with glitches in between. “HEHEHEHE-e-EHEY! NAHAHAT THEHEheheheHEHEHERE!” Lolbit protested.

“Why not? Ticklish foot, much?” Michael teased.

“Whahahahat dohoho YOHOhoHOU THIHI-i-IHINK?!” Lolbit shot back.

Michael gasped and paused for a moment. “You’ve got quite the NERVE!” Michael reacted, referencing Lolbit’s words from earlier. Michael even made his voice slightly scratchy and higher to make it sound similar to Lolbit’s for the next words: “Such a BAAABY…”

Lolbit bursted out laughing more. “AAHAHAHAHahahaHAHA! THAHAT WA-a-AHAS TEHEHERRIBLE!” Lolbit reacted.

“Oh! Was it now?” Michael reacted. He moved up to Lolbit’s cute, flat and decorated toes. “It couldn’t have been THAT bad, could it?” Michael teased.

Lolbit threw their head back and started letting out fits of glitchy cackles. “NOHOHOHO-o-o-OHOHOhohoho! TOHOHO-o-O MUHU-H-H-huhuHUHuch!” Lolbit yelled to him.

Michael just laughed with them. “Wohohow! Your laugh is going all over the place! It doesn’t know what it’s doing!” Michael teased, pausing his tickling to show them. “It’s up here! Then it’s down here! It goes from SO LOUD, TO super soft...soooo soft...And THEN IT JUMPS UP AGAIN!” Michael teased much more dramatically.

Lolbit shook their head back and forth and kept kicking their other foot. “IHIHI CAHahahahaAHAHAn’T HEHE-e-E-e-EHEHELP IHIhihIHIHIT!” Lolbit yelled back.

“Well duh! Of course you can’t help it! It’s like my snorting! I can’t help it either! But it’s still funny!” Michael added.

Lolbit gently pushed Michael away with its foot on his chest. “Ohohokahay, thahat’s ehe-E-ehehenough.” Lolbit ordered.

“Ey ey, captain.” Michael replied with a salute.

“Hehehey now: I ain’t the captain around here.” Lolbit sat up and looked at Michael. “Foxy is the legenda-A-ary captain aro-O-O-ound these parts!” Lolbit mentioned.

“Really now?” Michael reacted.

“Yeah! AhehEHEHEhehehe! Indeed he is! He’s a version of the original! A family of Foxy’s! I’m more of a-A-a second-in-command!” Lolbit admitted.

“You’re still important though. I think you’re still important.” Michael mentioned.

Lolbit’s ears perked up. “Hey! Thanks ki-I-id! You’re quite swell yerself!” Lolbit replied.

Michael smiled. “Thank you.”

The two of them sat in silence for a bit. It was a good silence, though a little uncomfortable. They just didn’t really know what to say. Lolbit’s break-in was a success, and Michael’s questions were already answered.

Though there was one last question…

“Hey Lolbit?” Michael asked. Lolbit looked up at Michael and lifted their ears up a little. “How come I haven’t seen you until now?” Michael asked.

Lolbit’s ears and snout both fell at that question. Lolbit tapped their orange fingernail on the ground as they came up with an answer. “Well...Foxy wa-A-as adored more by kids. Kids L-L-loved a purple and pink fox better than an orange fox.” Lolbit replied.

Michael’s curious face morphed into a hurt expression.

“And I didn’t mat-AT-atch the other guys.” Lolbit added.

Michael frowned at that. “Well, Circus Baby doesn’t match the general aesthetic either.” Michael added.

Lolbit looked at Michael out of the corner of its black, void eyes. “Circus Baby is-s dangerous. She-E broke the rule. She no-NO-no longer entertains.” Lolbit admitted.

Michael hummed curiously. He began to wonder what exactly Circus Baby did to get so badly in trouble. But, knowing his father and his motives…

Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t know the specifics.

Lolbit looked back up at Michael. “I ha-A-ave a question.” They told him. Michael looked up and gave Lolbit his full attention. “Is it tru-TrUE that you snort when you laugh?” Lolbit asked.

Michael’s eyes widened as he processed the question. Oh no…

Michael quickly tried to scoot back and run away. But Lolbit was one step ahead of him. Lolbit had grabbed Michael’s ankle and had pulled him closer. “Hey now! HAHAheheheHaHA!” Lolbit put their hands around his waist. “You’re not go-GOing ANYWHERE! HEheheHEHEHEE!” Lolbit declared, laughing themself silly as they used their dark eyes to scan for tickle spots. “You had your at-AT-attack! Now it’s MY TU-TURN! AHUHUHuhuhUHUHUUU!” Lolbit declared proudly. Lolbit immediately started out with quick scratches on the belly. “Tickle tickle s-security guard~” Lolbit teased.

Michael squealed and covered his mouth in an attempt to prevent any laughs or snorts from coming out. Lolbit noticed this and immediately pinned one of Michael’s arms above his head. “AhahahaHAHAHAAA! No che-CHE-cheating on my watch!” Lolbit declared. “And just for that:” Lolbit started tickling in Michael’s now vulnerable armpit.

Michael threw his head back and LAUGHED! “BAHAAAHAHAHAhahaha! NAHAT THEHEHERE! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!” Michael yelled.

“Oooooh! Why not? HEHEHEhehehe! Ti-TI-ticklish armpit, much?” Lolbit teased, saying the same thing Michael used on him. “I guess you could sa-say THIS ticklish spot is u-UNDER investigation~” Lolbit said as the fox poked its finger further into Michael’s armpit.

Michael whined. “Thahahat Whahahas TEHEHEHERRIBLE!” Michael complained.

“Wo-Would you say it was punny?” lolbit asked. Or maybe…” Lolbit poked Michael’s shoulder- “Huuuumerus~?”

Michael shook his head and pushed against his snout. “STAHAHAHAP!”

“Wow! I didn’t know my jo-jokes were so…” Lolbit moved their fingers to Michael’s ribs and started digging and skittering. “Riiib-tickling~! AHAHAhahahahaHUUUU!”

Michael threw his head back and cackled loudly with snorts mixed in.

“Oh WOOOW! You really DO SNORT! You-ou must be the life of the PARTY! Or maybe even the life of the PORKY~?” Lolbit teased.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!” Michael shouted at him.

“HAHAhahaHAHA! Why would I do that when I could ke-keep making animal jokes?” Lolbit asked rhetorically as they moved their metal nails up and down the ribs. “Be-Besides: Fazbear Entertainment should have made me-ME a parrot! Cause I am a HOOT! I KEET you not!” Lolbit teased.

Michael growled and shook his head. “IHIHIHI HAHAHAHATE THEHEHEM!” Michael shouted. “THEHEHEY’RE SOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAD!”

“Hate them?! But look!” Lolbit poked his mouth. “You‘re smil-iling! And you’re laughing at them! And tha-that with your piggy snorts mixed in, is a real tweet~! Ahahaha!” Lolbit joked.

Lolbit narrowed its eyes and brought its snout closer to Michael. “Ohoho...Excuse me- does it look like I ha-HA-have a black beard to you?!” Lolbit reacted all sassy. Michael giggled more at the fox’s reaction. “Ooooh...You’re trying to toy with the robot! I seeee says the blind man!” Lolbit reacted. Lolbit started tickling Michael’s sides this time. “And I feeeel your fingers, says the nerveless Nellie~” Lolbit added.

Michael yelped and groaned through his new fit of laughter. “HEHehehehey! *snort* THAHAhahahat’s nohohohot- *snort* hohohow ihihihit gohohohoes!” Michael protested.

“Ohoho alright. Ihi-I suppose that pun was a bit of a stretch.” Lolbit decided before finally letting Michael go.

Michael went limp and started panting right away. There were still phantom tickles plaguing him, causing him to giggle and squirm through his shallow breathing.

“I suppose I should be band from funny boneville?” Lolbit finished off.

“Ihihi will shohohock you.” Michael warned with an uncontrollable giggle.

“Ohohoho! How enlightening! Perhaps even frightening!” Lolbit teased.

Lolbit finally stopped with the puns the moment Michael squeezed their sides. There were just too many puns all at once. Perhaps they would be all over now…

No fox were given during the making of this Fazfan-fic. Are these puns bad enough for you, anon? XD

[mimicutie]

Pit is Autistic - A “Brief” Analysis

Kid Icarus: Uprising is my favorite game of all time, and one thing I love about it is the characterization of Pit. Specifically, I see him as autistic. Of course, this is just a headcanon of mine, but I wanted to write out a little discussion explaining why I see him as such as well as show some of the autistic traits he demonstrates in Uprising (and the occasional reference to the Guidance conversations from Smash).

(fair warning, this is not very brief)

Difficulty Understanding Words and Jokes

It’s made abundantly clear that Pit isn’t the best at picking up sarcasm or jokes. At times, he struggles with understanding words, phrases, and context. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 11.

Pit: Good! There are survivors! Palutena: They’re a stubborn bunch hanging on like that. [...] Pit: Uh… stubborn? Palutena: Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.

Here, Pit doesn’t understand what Palutena means by “stubborn.” It’s pretty common for autistic people to struggle understanding parts of speech, such as words being used in different contexts than what they’re used to.

Medusa: Hmm… Now this is a little… bizarre. Pit: I know right? The mouth on that guy! I’d never talk like that! Medusa: That’s not what I meant. Palutena: Sorry. He can be a little… thick.

Once again, Pit is misinterpreting the situation. He doesn’t understand what Medusa is alluding to, thinking that she is talking about Dark Pit’s brash behavior. Palutena’s last comment hints that it’s very common for Pit to misunderstand people like this.

Pit: I’m Pit, servant of the goddess Palutena. I’m here to defeat Dark Lord Gaol. Magnus: So you’re here for a slice of the pie too? Pit: Huh? Pie? Where?

Chapter 2 has several examples of Pit not picking up on obvious jokes or idioms, and here’s one. Pit takes the idiom literally, not understanding what Magnus really means at first.

Viridi: Pit certainly is devoted to you, Palutena. Hades: Only because she squeezes his head wreath when he doesn’t follow orders. Palutena: You mean like… THIS?! Pit: No no no no no! You’ll squeeze my brains out! … (sigh) Why do I always fall for that?

In this example from Chapter 15, Palutena is clearly messing with Pit, but as he stated, he always falls for her jokes. Even though it’s clear she is just teasing, Pit can’t pick up on the fact that she isn’t being serious. He consistently struggles with understanding tone.

Pit: This is so annoying. Lady Palutena, help me out here! Palutena: Deploying the Palutena Super Sensor… Pit: I didn’t know you had a super sensor! Palutena: Hee hee. I don’t. You know I like to make stuff up. Pit: I can’t believe you’re messing with me at a time like this!

This dialogue from Chapter 13 is just another example of Palutena clearly joking while Pit does not pick up on it. Even though Palutena has done this time and time again, Pit still struggles to tell when someone, even a person he is incredibly close to like Palutena, is just messing with him. These are just a few examples. Pit commonly struggles with understanding language and tone throughout the game.

Using Words Differently

We can see that Pit has his own unique vocabulary with his own creative phrases like, “Calamaried!” “Re-defeated!” “Pulverazed!” and so on. Pit also makes LOTS of noises throughout the game, all of his “woohoo”s and “woah”s and whatnot. It’s just how he communicates, even if it's a bit particular or different.

Expressiveness

Pit is excitable. Like, really excitable. Sure, he’s a fun video game protagonist, but he’s always very happy-go-lucky and upbeat in a way that reads to me as autistic. Just look at how he jumps in excitement!

And when he gets the Three Sacred Treasure?! Gifs can’t really do the excitement in this scene justice. (link in case tumblr embed isn’t working)

Additionally, while Uprising doesn’t have a lot of cutscenes with Pit just standing around talking, in the ones where he does he is usually very expressive, using his hands to talk and whatnot. Added with his excitability, I feel that this shows us that Pit is so expressive and emotional because he’s autistic!

Extra Help

Pit needs more help with understanding things in comparison to others. Palutena often goes out of her way to guide Pit, whether it be giving him directions or explaining how to defeat an enemy. While Palutena’s advice does work as a guide for the player, it’s clear that Pit needs the help more than someone else his situation might. The clearest proof we have of this comes from Chapter 22.

Palutena: Watch out for that heart-shaped crystal barrier! You see, it’s— Dark Pit: Reflecting my shots back at me, right? Palutena: Well… yes. Dark Pit: I got it, so stop telling me what to do! 

Palutena is expecting Dark Pit to be like Pit, where she needs to explain to him what’s going on and offer her guidance. However, Dark Pit was able to figure out a strategy to defeat Pandora all on his own. Palutena is very aware that Pit needs a bit more help and prepares accordingly for him.

Accidental Rudeness

Many times throughout Uprising, Pit is shown speaking “rudely” towards gods or characters who have authority over him.

Pit: Oh, great! You’re the guy I’m looking for. Listen, I have a favor to ask you. Would you mind if I borrow your chariot for just a little while? Chariot Master: Your foolishness is matched only by your rudeness. How dare you charge in here, flinging unreasonable requests at me? [...] Viridi: You can’t really blame him for being upset. That was kind of rude.

Here, Pit is talking to the Chariot Master very casually, treating him like a friend despite the fact he is breaking into the Chariot Master’s tower and asking him for a precious artifact. Pit doesn’t see it as rude but Viridi and the Chariot Master clearly do. He is breaking an unwritten social norm by talking so casually to someone of high authority. Autistic people often misinterpret social situations or don’t act appropriately, sometimes resulting in “rude” behavior. There are several examples of this throughout the game, such as in Chapter 24…

Pit: You know, the Three Sacred Treasures weren’t exactly durable. Can you please make sure that this new weapon won’t just fall apart? Dyntos: Palutena, you’d be wise to put a muzzle on your chicken.  Palutena: I apologize for him. Again. Pit: I… I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to be rude.

To Pit, he is just stating a fact. However, it comes off to Dyntos as Pit being rude or even insulting his work. This is something that autistic people often do; they are blunt or honest about something, which is again mistaken as being rude.

Pit is also seen being more blunt when under emotional stress, such as in Chapter 20.

Pit: I trusted you because I knew you were on the side of justice, and… and light! But something is blocking that light now. This isn’t the real you. Viridi: Someone cue the strings… Pit: Would you mind holding the commentary for two seconds, Viridi? Phosphora: There are goddesses you’re talking to here, Pit. Watch your tone. Pit: Butt out, Phosphora! The goddess of light has turned dark. Skyworld is destroyed! Everything is wrong, and it’s up to me to make things right! Palutena: Oh, Pit. You’re just as naive as ever. Pit: I’m not naive!

Phew. This scene is pretty noteworthy to me because throughout the game, Pit is never really that angry or upset. He does show hostility, but he never really snaps at anyone, much less gods, like this. But when his home is destroyed and Lady Palutena is not herself, his emotions get the better of him. He doesn’t even seem to care that he is being “rude” to Viridi. I definitely see this moment as Pit having an outburst because of the stressful situation he is under. 

Scripts / Scripting

The most obvious example of Pit using a script is with his “rally cries” that he prepares before fighting enemies. Look at the idol description for this AR Card.

He practices his rally cries a lot in order to be prepared for battles with bosses. Pit even mentions practicing his rally cries in a later chapter.

Pit: Cells of Hades, hear my words! And, um… see my actions! Uh… something, something… I’m going to rain death on you! I can’t remember all the words, but that’s the general gist. Hades: My innards have so longed to hear your battle cry. How could you forget the words? Pit: I didn’t have time to rehearse. I’ve been busy fighting evil, okay?!

While some may see the rally cries as meaningless fun, I think it could be seen as Pit having a script that he likes to fall back to when facing enemies. 

His many references and quotes to video games could be seen as scripting, too. There are lots of instances in Uprising, and especially in Palutena’s Guidance, where Pit quotes famous video game phrases or imitates sounds. Which leads me to…

Special Interest

Pit’s special interest is video games. While Pit’s very vast knowledge of video games could just be because of Uprising’s fourth-wall breaking style of humor, I think it could also be seen as Pit having an intense interest in games. He references various video games such as Metroid, Nintendogs, and Super Smash Bros. in-game. He seems to enjoy bringing up video games or referencing video game mechanics whenever he can, which is very similar to how autistic people enjoy bringing up their special interests in conversations whenever possible. Additionally, while the Palutena’s Guidance conversations aren’t 100% accurate to canon, Pit constantly references and alludes to various video games in them, such as quoting Reyn in Shulk’s conversation or Peppy and General Pepper in Fox’s (which ties back to him scripting). It’s clear that he loves video games and talking about video games!

Pit: Those Aurum troops are doing their best Game and Watch impression! Viridi: Check out the gaming IQ on this guy! You’re a regular video game historian!

See, even Viridi is impressed with his video game knowledge! :D

Sensory Issues

Throughout the game, Pit seems to have an obsession with hot springs. It is never outright explained why he loves them so much, but I’m led to believe it is because of sensory reasons. Many autistic people use extreme temperatures to help soothe or calm themselves, such as cold showers or hot baths. It can often help with sensory overload. Hot springs, similarly to hot baths, may be a way to help soothe Pit and keep his sensory issues to a minimum. 

Pit’s habits with his tunic seem to hint towards sensory issues, too. He doesn’t like to be without his robes, stating that he keeps them on even when he’s in the hot spring. When his clothes seemingly get messed up in Chapter 21, he gets upset, exclaiming that it’s his only tunic. Wearing the same clothes or same types of clothes/fabric is pretty typical for autistic people, and Pit wearing the same tunic everyday is similar to that.

Additionally, Pit’s habits with food could be because of sensory differences. He very well could be hyposensitive to food and tastes, which is why he eats a lot and doesn’t seem to care about what he eats (as long as it isn’t vegetables, according to the Revolting Dinner short ;D ) . 

Small Social Circle

Pit doesn’t have a whole lot of people he can rely on. Before Uprising, the only person he seems to have any affinity for is Palutena. Other than that, he doesn’t seem to talk to anyone else. We don’t have a clear picture on what his relationship with the Centurions is like, but based off of the Revolting Dinner short and Chapter 17, he only really talks to them when he’s working as the Captain of the Army and not as a friend.

While yes, Pit is the only angel left in Skyworld, I still think it’s important to bring up that Pit only really has Palutena to rely on. By the end of Uprising, he has Viridi and Dark Pit as well, but his only clear and completely positive relationship is his mother-son bond with Palutena. I see this as Pit struggling to really befriend others. He’s had over two decades between the original game and Uprising to befriend the Centurions, but again, he only really has Palutena. It’s pretty typical for autistic people to have very small social circles, consisting of just one or two friends. Palutena seems to fit the role of mother and best friend for Pit, and she even remarks that he should make more friends in Chapter 4. 

Working Alone

This is a small one, but still something that I think is worth pointing out. Pit seems very adamant on accomplishing his missions on his own, telling Dark Pit on two separate occasions (Chapter 9 and Chapter 21) that he can handle the situation by himself. Similarly, it’s common for autistic people to prefer working by themselves rather than with others. Paired with the previous point about having a small social circle, this just reads to me as Pit not feeling too comfortable in situations with others.

Conclusion

There’s a few other points that I feel I could bring up but overall I think these are my main points summed up (and yes, I said summed up. this used to be over 2500 words) ! Thanks so much for reading! If you have any other traits that you think Pit has that I didn’t mention, feel free to share them, I’d be more than happy to hear! ^_^

[theoriginalladya]

Slán leat  (Goodbye)

So this morning, Caleb Shepard’s muse grabbed a two-by-four and belted me upside the head out of nowhere with this piece.  I’ve half thought about writing one since posting this drabble a while back and mentioning the idea of a memorial post-war, but until today, I had no idea how it would play out.  This, apparently, is how it plays out.

On AO3 here

Summary:  Two years after the end of the Reaper War, Caleb Shepard finally faces what he can no longer avoid ...

Setting: Alliance HQ, Vancouver; two years after the war

Characters: Caleb Shepard, Abby Williams, Kaidan Alenko, Major Coats (David Anderson, Ashley Williams, other NPCs)

Tags:  grief, hurt, comfort, angst, character death, mourning, memorials

~~~

Dark grey clouds hang low over the Vancouver skyline weeping slow, steady tears.  Appropriate, Caleb Shepard thinks, otherwise ignoring it while huddling deeper into his jacket and leaning heavily upon the cane Kaidan wouldn’t allow him out of the apartment without.  As if you know…

He pauses, tilting his head, almost hearing the voice on the occasional gust of wind.  It’s one he’s never forgotten, no matter the years that have passed or the fact that death claimed him once.  Just a hint of a whisper, drifting droplet to droplet before splattering at his feet as they tease and taunt.  

Sentiment?  For me, Skipper?  I’m touched …

Days like this push him to his very limit anymore; pain of all sorts dogging at his heels, physical, mental, emotional. Almost as bad as those days right after London, when it wasn’t a sure thing that he would survive.  Without Miranda around to lend her expertise this time, he nearly didn’t.

Slowly, carefully, he continues to make his way across the grounds toward his destination.  In all honesty, he doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to face the inevitable he has successfully ignored; but time is no longer on his side, and avoidance is impossible now that he is here.  It’s been two years since the end of the war, and though loathe to admit it, he knows he can no longer hide from his duty.  Two years.  It seems like forever ago, the last time he was here, yet this time he has freedom to search for old friends and faces rather than face punishment for fulfilling his duty.

As he draws near, he discovers the memorial is far larger than last time; instead of taking up the central courtyard outside of Alliance HQ, Vancouver, newer panels branch out to form a maze, circling around, folding back upon itself while creating space enough to hold its weighty burden. Caleb’s chest aches to think how many names are now inscribed here.  

Still, he knows exactly where to locate the first, and makes his way through the pattern.  It takes several minutes, perhaps twice or three times what it normally would without injury.  Still, he finds it easily enough – his memory is as strong as ever was, thankfully – and eases down on one knee while using the cane to hold himself steady.  His hair is plastered to his face, covering his eyes, but his is still able to peek through without much difficulty.  He scrolls down the list of names until he finds it, stretches out his left hand, and lets the tips glide lightly over the engraved marble surface.

Gunnery Chief, Ashley Williams – Virmire

A hint of a curve pokes at the corner of his lips, sad yet hopeful, as he whispers, “We did it, Ash.”

He doesn’t expect an answer – the dead don’t talk after all, not unless he’s joined them – so he is a bit startled when a voice so similar to the one he remembers replies, “That we did, Skipper.”

Peering over his shoulder up into the falling rain, he finds her; solemn dark brown eyes staring back at him, dark hair twisted into a regulation knot at the nape of her neck, dress blues soaked through, N7 designation shining brightly despite it all.  Caleb pushes awkwardly to his feet, relying on the cane for leverage, and opens his arms to her.  “That we did, major,” he agrees as Abigail Williams walks into the embrace and holds tight.

When she steps back after the greeting, Abby smiles and leans up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.  “I was hoping Hackett would talk you into coming this year,” she murmurs as she glances around the area.  They are alone for now, though others will likely show later, especially if the rain diminishes.  “Where’s Kaidan?”

Pushing his hair out of his eyes and taking some of the excess moisture with it, Caleb replies, “I came on ahead.  He’ll be along in a bit.”

Sharp eyes narrow on him, searching.  “Ghosts calling you?”

He sighs as he avoids her knowing gaze, nodding. “Aye, something like that.”

Without additional comment, she loops her arm through his and they start down the path to his next destination.  “Haven’t you learned, sealgaire, visiting ghosts should never be done alone?”

The chuckle that escapes has an edge of pain to it, but he eventually finds his voice.  “Haven’t you learned all Irishmen are stubborn to a fault?”

They take their time walking the trail, finding each and every person on Caleb’s list.  Most are clumped together by date or location, but a few are found on their own or with others he does not know.  When they find the rest of the crew of the SR1, he is startled to find his own name among them, the N7 designation setting him apart from the rest of the crew.  His breath stutters and Abby’s arm tightens in support until he waves her off with a nod. They move on only after Caleb takes a step backward, straightens to attention, and salutes.  Abby follows suit.

The rain still streams down from the skies above as he searches for the last two names.  With a knowing smile, Abby finds the way unerringly.  The wall for these individuals is filled with Ns of varying levels, but the ones he needs are near the end.

Captain, Rosa Morales-Minton, Elysium

It is impossible to differentiate tears from rain drops as they slide down his cheeks, as fingers tender and aching from the cold trace the letters of her name.  To his left, Abby says quietly, “Did I ever tell you, I met her once?”

His voice is a rough whispering rasp as he replies. “No.”

“They had a memorial – a quiet one, only a few people allowed in – for the crew of the Normandy after she went down. I was here finishing OCS when I saw the gathering, recognized some of your surviving crew, so I snuck over.”

Caleb huffs softly, managing a lopsided grin.  “You’ve definitely earned that infiltrator badge. As for the rest?”  Sighing, he shakes his head.  “The Alliance followed the Council and kept the Reapers quiet.” His eyes roam beyond her, down the path, at the walls upon walls upon walls of names.  “They too afraid of what they did not understand.  How many more could have been saved if they’d listened?”

Abby tightens her hand around his arm.  “She was here, that day, too.  So much pain and sorrow in her eyes, but she was here for you.  We spoke briefly afterward.”  She smiles up at him, sadness in her eyes, but a brightness in the smile and memory. “She loved you like a brother, Caleb. Did you know?”

Caleb’s eyes close, his fingers twitching over her name yet again even as he nods.  “She was one of the best.”

A heavier weight settles over his right shoulder. Caleb isn’t startled, and he doesn’t have to open his eyes to recognize who stands there in support.  As a result, his grief eases just a bit as the burden is shared.

“Not your fault, mo shearc,” Kaidan reminds him gently.

Caleb pulls his hand back from the wall and rests it atop his husband’s on his shoulder, squeezing gently in response.  “I know, mo ghrá.  I know.”

Another set of booted steps nears, stopping as they come within range.  “Ceremony is starting soon,” Coats announces, his hand settling around Abby’s shoulders. When Caleb glances over, he nods. “We should probably head over.”

“Just a moment.”  Caleb shifts his position so he can reach the last name on his list, two rows over, a few lines higher.  

Rear Admiral, David Edward Anderson, London

“Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.”**

As before, Caleb takes a few steps back, straightens, and offers a final salute to the man who helped change his life.  Kaidan, Coats, and Abby join in.

They turn away moments later, Kaidan sliding a hand into Caleb’s free one, and Caleb gives the wall one last, long look.  “Slán leat,** old friend,” he murmurs, his steps already moving away.  “One day, perhaps, we’ll meet again….”

~~~~ 

** Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam = May his soul be seated on God’s right hand. (God rest his soul)

** Slán leat = good-bye

[lilac-den]

Hello dear author! How would the ROs react if they came home from a mission to find the MC asleep in their bed snuggling one of their shirts? Thank you!

Cracks knuckles. . . I’mma assume relationship-stage. . .

Zeus: The mission had been tough, as with many other mission. Zeus is a soldier, a dedicated fighter. No iota of complaints have ever crossed their mind.

But this time? It’s the first they ever feel irritated to have this mission drag so long.

Zeus is a clean-cut method for the company to utilize - a top weapon agent in their arsenal. But even they can’t stomach the haughty attitudes of those who belittle the responsibilities at work. That, and the fact they’re also the reason they have drag the mission far longer than it should.

Even Ares was scowling over the governmental agents slacking their asses off. If it wasn’t for Zeus and co, this mission would have gone for a week instead of five days straight. Zeus has already made a promise to spend the whole weekend, and they plan to keep that promise.

The keys rattle and click against the lock, allowing Zeus to step into their apartment with an exhausted sigh. God, they smell. It won’t do good to visit their beloved in such a state. Stripping their suit jacket off, they made their way into their room...

Only to blink upon the sight before them.

There was [Name], all curled up on their bed with their shirt in their grasp. What was once a neatly clean bed, with settled and smoothed out sheets, is now all wrinkled about and the sole chaos in a room of the organized structure.

A light tinge warms their torso.

It’s so strange - that seeing something that disrupts their usually fixed atmosphere be so fulfilling. It’s as if the exhaustion of the mission is lifted, all for the thought of peace with their lover’s sleeping, quiet state.

Zeus allows themselves to step closer, sitting onto the edge of the bed and reach out to brush their forehead. Brows knit, most likely from the feel of their gloves, before beautiful orbs blink open.

“Good morning, [Name],” Zeus says, monotonous and stone-faced. An issue with those who try to approach them, Zeus doesn’t excrete ‘emotional reveal’.

But [Name] flashes that smile - sleepy but joyful. Was it from having a pleasant dream? Or perhaps [Name] believe their dream is of this moment.

“Welcome home...”

Regardless, Zeus knows the yearning they felt for [Name] is mutual.

Hermes: “Fucking assholes, thinking they’re so brilliant...”

The unsettling curses flow out of Hermes as natural as a raging river, their fingers frustratingly flipping through their set of keys as they frown, only to click their tongue and flip once more in reverse.

The mission has taken a massive toll on Hermes - sure, it’s a success but it would have been three days earlier if those scientists from the governmental branch have more brain cells. They completely disregarded Hermes’s suggestion and simply went ahead with their own ideas, singling them out.

Clearly, that didn’t turn out well due to how that simply put them through a grueling demotion and put Hermes in charge of the issue. While there isn’t any other problem to be found, Hermes has grown irate at the time that’s been wasted to the point each of the scientists couldn’t even dare to make a peep of gossip.

The only pro coming out of this is the fact Hermes had earned some vacation days - specifically this weekend.

The idea of spending the weekend with [Name] provides some small mood boost; it had been the only thing that kept Hermes going with those so-called top-notch thinkers.

But when Hermes steps into their apartment and enters the bedroom, they eye the body that lies on their bed.

Pajamas adorn the frame of their beloved, with a small note of bedhead and a black, very familiar T-shirt wrinkling in their grasp as they smile obliviously in their sleep.

[Name] fits so perfectly on their bed, Hermes almost forego taking a short shower just to climb in. Curse outdoor bacteria.

Thankfully, [Name] didn’t wake up while Hermes was showering - considering how it’s massively early and Hermes has spent last night driving back home, being the night owl they are, they could sleep like the dead.

A common thing their beloved has mentioned during their brunches.

Dressed in their sleepwear, Hermes climbs into the sheets, careful not to move the shirt away from [Name], and wraps their arms around [Name] to let themselves settle into the comfort of their own bed.

“Hng...” Hermes’s ears perk at the sound that erupts after merely five minutes before they feel the body in their arm twitch, “Oh...Hermes, when did you come back?”

A sigh leaves them and they find themselves sinking into the softness, a heavy load of exhaustion upon them. Who knew the sound of their voice can make them crumble to instant relaxation? “Just now.”

A gentle touch on the head. “Tough mission?”

“Mm.” Hermes gives a noise of confirmation, relying on the stroking sensation through their hair for its warm properties. The body shifts, which leads to Hermes’s brows knitting together.

“Haha...!” A soft laugh escapes their beloved, a sound that leaves them fuzzy with delight. “Did you miss me too?”

“You took my favorite shirt.”

[Name]’s voice has a pause before concern fills it. “Am I not allowed to?”

The remembrance of [Name] cuddling with their shirt resorts to Hermes tightening their embrace. “Consider this punishment.”

A short laugh leaves [Name] again. “Seems more like a reward.”

Hermes gives out a sort of grumble and leans in without another thought, burying their head into the crook of [Name]’s neck. [Name] doesn’t speak another word, but the fingers that pet along their hair turn into a hand stroking from scalp to the back. A satisfied noise escapes with a minuscule smile.

Clearly, the one getting a reward here is Hermes.

Dionysus: “God, what a week.”

It’s one thing to go undercover as a hotel staff - it’s another to carry that role and attempt fixing most of the problems in said hotel. First had been a Frenchman and Englishman arguing over some preference of which country is better (Ironically - the Frenchman believes England is better while the Englishman believes France is better). Then, there was a lack of staff, which means more tasks to do than what most usually do.

It doesn’t help that Dionysus was in that situation because of some corrupt billionaire who couldn’t stop keeping it in his pants. Including the rare virus, he had spread to his ‘friends’.

It was just an absolute mess. Dionysus wasn’t sure how they’ll stomach seeing another messy bed.

After unlocking the door to their apartment and entering it, they lock the door behind them and head for the bathroom in their bedroom; Dionysus could go for a relaxing bubble bath. But when they step into their bedroom, they freeze with wide, shock eyes.

Lying on their bed, with a vibrant orange PJ shirt in the grasp of familiar hands, is the librarian in all their sleepy glory. Dionysus has always left their curtains open, so the sunrise’s rays are already shining into the room without making contact with the librarian’s blessed face.

Their heart melt. They smile widely and step closer to the bed. Bending down, they plant a kiss onto their beloved’s forehead, something which leads to forcing a groan out of their sleeping beauty.

Eyes blink towards Dionysus, blearily taking them in as the first thing they see - something Dionysus plans to keep doing.

A dazzling smile courses through their lips, flashing beautiful teeth. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Mnngh...” [Name] groans out, grabbing the blanket and curl out, though not turning away from Dionysus and simply rub their cheek into the shirt’s fabric. “No morning - too early...”

A humorous laugh leaves Dionysus as they bend down to leave a dozen more kisses. “Not even for some breakfast?”

A pause. An eye peeks open. “...Mngh.”

In translation: Always for food.

“Alright, I’ll make some animal pancakes.” Dionysus begins to move, but blinks from the slight tug on the end of their suit jacket. Turning back, they spy the hand that clings to it before lifting their head to face the smiling beaut. “What’s wrong?”

A wide grin appears and the librarian lifts themselves up, planting a light peck on Dionysus’s cheek. “Welcome home.”

The poor soul’s heart implodes from the cuteness overload.

Ares: “Fucking pansy shits, acting like kids with scissors...”

Ares just isn’t taking any more shit from the governmental branch. It’s bad enough they’re given weapons - now they have people wielding them, flailing about with a magnum, refusing to take better maintenance with them. If it wasn’t for the fact this was an undercover mission, Ares would have wiped their asses with armor-piercing rounds from an AK-47.

They make their way into their apartment, dumping their duffle bag onto the end of the coat hanger as they strip off their jacket, frustratingly untying their tie. It doesn’t make shit better when they had to have a long drive under the hot, fucking sun and get home just as night falls.

They couldn’t even visit that cadet of theirs on the day of their return - fucking bastards.

“I swear, I’m gonna beat the shit-” Their words stop short upon stepping into their room to eye the form occupying their bed.

The little hacker actually took over their bed.

With their shirt.

In their PJs.

Did they miss Ares that much?

“...Heh.”

A shark-like smile appears on their face and they step into the bathroom. Even after their shower, the cadet is still sleeping. Fully dressed to sleep with dried hair, Ares sighs and climbs into the bed before wrapping their cadet’s body.

“Fucking sap.” Ares mumbles, closing their eyes as a brief smile appear on their face.

???: The apartment door opens and closes without missing a beat, the figure tiredly stepping into the dark flat despite how it’s early morning.

Footsteps tread silently to the bedroom. And there, ??? makes the discovery of the figure on their bed, the brief moment of alerted panic shifting to a calm fulfillment; should have known their tweety bird misses them.

??? steps closer to the bed, reaching up to gently squeeze the bridge of the librarian’s nose. Watching their nose wrinkle, ??? nearly snort with amusement before kneeling onto the ground and fold their arms onto the edge of the bed, resting their chin on their folded arms to continue admiring the blissful sleep of their lover and how that smile - that bright, dazzling smile - make the world whole once more for ???.

(Bonus)

After a decent amount of time, ??? finally moves. They pull one of their larger drawers open and pull out a trumpet. They don’t really play instruments; it was mainly to annoy a notable friend of theirs. Licking their lips with eyes glinting with devious intent, they open their mouth...

Needless to say, ??? enjoys their method of waking their early bird.