#and two ferals pissing each other off over who's got the bigger tail

[stormxpadme]

When I say I like the upcoming chapter, that’s why btw.

[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

[followthebluebell]

(1/2) Hi bluebell!! I have a cat behavior question for you. How do you tell the difference between like general interest/curiosity vs aggressive behavior towards other cats? I’ve had my cat for a year & she’s been living in the same place (my off-Campus apartment) so this is her home! Anyways, I got two random roommates this semester and they both have cats. My cat is double the size of both (not chubby- just big! and the other two are on the smaller side) so my cat sees herself as the alpha

(2/2) There’s been some hissing and sometimes she’ll charge them and puff up (especially if they try and go in my room when she’s not in there, or when they try and get on her cat tree). There’s been no fights or anything, just showing them who’s boss. ANYWAYS, she likes to watch them from a perch but sometimes she’ll like sneakily follow them and watch them around corners and I can’t tell if it’s aggressive stalking behavior or if she wants to play with them?

(3/2) I guess the general question is; what are the telltale signs of playfulness vs aggression? What should I be on the lookout for? Because she’s so much bigger than them, if she did decide to attack she could hurt them. (They’re all full grown FYI) any advise would be awesome!!!! I love when you talk about cat behavior         

Hello, anon! c:

Alright, so first let’s tackle some language here.  Your cat is not being an alpha; she’s resource guarding.  From three years of observing feral colonies, I’ve come to the conclusion that ‘alpha’ cats don’t really exist---- most of the ‘dominant’ or ‘alpha’ cats in colonies are actually just jerks or cats who don’t know how to communicate with other cats (typically, they’re pet cats who either got lost or were abandoned there deliberately, but I feel like I’m gonna veer WAY off topic and will have to talk about my observations in a separate post).�� I’ve also tried to step away from dominant vs submissive comparisons, because they don’t fully work; they imply a hierarchy that just... doesn’t really exist in cat groups.  Instead, I use the terms ‘assertive’ vs ‘passive’.  An assertive cat is one who tries to muscle another cat away from a food dish, for example, while a passive cat is likely to allow itself to be pushed away.

A cat who’s being a jerk isn’t behaving that way out of spite usually.  They do these things because they feel insecure and want to seem scary so they feel safe from perceived threats (in this case, other cats intruding on her territory, like her cat tree and your room).  Sometimes they’re jerks because they really don’t know how to communicate with other cats.  I usually see this in cats who were adopted very young by humans and were raised apart from other cats, or were raised with a very limited number of cats. 

You’ve already identified what triggers her behavior: other cats intruding on her territory (her cat tree and her room).  So you’ve got two ways to handle this: you can either try and encourage her to feel comfortable with their presence OR you can prevent them from intruding. 

So let’s talk about how to foster a comforting environment for your cat.  Feliway diffusers are very helpful in these cases.  I also encourage lots of hiding places and climbing areas, especially with cardboard boxes.  Cardboard is useful primarily because it’s cheap but it also holds cat pheromones really well.  Cats just love the stuff. 

Whenever the other cats are around, try playing with her or giving her a prized treat (be sure to share with the other kitties!).  This can help her connect their presence to Something Nice instead of something distressing.  They might never be buddy-buddy, but they can at least co-exist peacefully.

CURIOUS CAT BEHAVIOR: approaches with ears and whiskers pricked, tail is up.  Tail isn’t bushy, but may be slightly puffed near the base.  Cat’s movements are fairly steady, but will pause if the other cat appears distressed or aggressive.  Cat may chirp a few times (this is really interesting, because cats usually don’t meow to communicate to each other).  Cat will slowly blink at the other cat a few times in an effort to say ‘hi, i want to be friends!!’.

PLAYFUL CAT BEHAVIOR: often coincides with curiosity.  A very curious cat will purr and chirp at another and sideways hop towards them.  They may flop down on their side or back to invite the other cat to a wrestling match.  Their fur is usually flat but may fluff out slightly as they get more excited. This puff is generally even all over, although you might notice some extra puff at the base of the tail.  Tail may be held up or straight back--- if they’re playful stalking, it’s usually straight back, because they’re gonna use it for balance soon.

AGGRESSIVE CAT BEHAVIOR: cat is puffed out.  A truly pissed off cat will have their fur just along their back raised in a ridge.  One who is still pretty angry but not quite pissed off will be puffed out all over.  They approach rapidly with their tail low to the ground and their ears pinned back.  They growl VERY deeply and will hiss and snarl to try and warn the other cat ‘hey i’m bigger than you and i’m MUCH scarier and stronger, go away’. 

Like most animals, cat fights generally have a lot of lead up.  You’ll hear an impending cat fight before you see one, typically.  Remember, most cats don’t WANT to fight another cat.  Cat fights are dangerous and they don’t wanna leap into that without cause.

I hope this was helpful! c:

[upsmymindwanderedagain]

Story of The Ice Wolf

PART 15

OTHER PARTS:

PART 14    PART 13     PART 1

WARNINGS:  mentions of scars, blood, implied sex.

Hey fellas! First I’m sorry for the delay. I hope the wait is worth it. This is a 12K chapter, I hope you enjoy it.

I’d love to read your thoughts on the story.

“Oh oh Capwolf little wing-ed hell wants trouble” Barton calls. You were nursing your usual coffee mug before your main morning workout “what’s up kiddo?”. “You and me training room, now” she says sternly with a murderous scowl, as quick as she came in, she banishes. A loud whistle fills the kitchen “Anyone wants to bet?” Tony asks looking around

Just as Anika vanished Pepper walked in the common room "Ok is it my imagination or Anika just disappeared before me? I swear is bloody early for this". Tony quickly moves to Pepper's side to kiss her good morning "Is not your imagination honey, let's go to the training room and see how Anika destroys robowolf". ("The pup will kick big Wolf ass") Orion and Nebula chant in your mind before running ahead, you glare at their retreating forms. Loki walks ahead passing by you "Let's hope Valhalla's door won't open for you this dawn Wolf" he says with his trademark wicked smirk. You smirk back at him "Otherwise be certain I will hunt your ass for the next millennia acquaintance". Is not uncommon for the team to stay at the compound after a long or big missions given that the facility has a bigger medical wing than the tower. And after yesterday's mission which consisted on raiding a base hidden in the Pakistani mountains you all decided to stay at the compound after reporting the successful mission to Nick and Maria. All the avengers are gathered outside the training room, the thick laminated structural glass wall is the only division, but they have feedback from the inside. Slowly you walk in with an air of authority, sure you have an idea what all this is about but Anika tends to be quite theatrical "what's the meaning of this kiddo?" you ask casually. She rolls her eyes at the nick name "Come on old wolf don't 'kiddo' me right now" she says with a frown. You cross your arms tightly on your front your bulkier form appearing more intimidating over this past month you put up 10 pounds of lean muscle "Who pissed you off?". "You" she states with a big scowl. Muffled "Ohhs" and cat calls can be heard from the outside. When you turn around to glare at them Sam, Steve, Bucky and Barton salute you "Pleasure serving with you capwolf" after a few silent seconds of you glaring at them all of you burst out in laughter. You are still trying to catch your breath when you flip them off "I live with assholes". "Tell me about it. I want my revenge" she says her eyes shining with battle thrill. Your eyes widen in faked surprise "Is that so? You did not ask before" you say with a little hint of mockery you take off your hoodie, so you are left with your black sweatpants and long sleeve light grey rash guard muscles dancing under the skin tight cloth, the team begins to whistle and catcall as Wanda rolls her eyes muttering a low 'show off'. Pietro throws a pair of MMA style gloves and a wrap at you, Anika is already geared up. You do a quick job wrapping your left hand and putting on the gloves. Shaking and rolling your shoulders you loosen the muscles as you address her "Rules?" "Just don't kill each other!" Bucky shouts from behind the wall with a serious face both of you look at him before looking at each other to nod in agreement with a shrug. "I'm gonna kick your ass old dog!" she summons her wide white archangel wings. Anika is the first one to throw a right round kick, which you easily elude it backing your head a little with a half step back to avoid her wings, she quickly turns around with the momentum and throws a quick combo of punches jab, jab, hook with a swift move of your hips and head you dodge them all. "Is all you got brat?" you throw tauntingly at her as you shake your arms with guard down. She just smirks before stepping in again. As more punches are thrown. Fury, Hill and Zrinka with Fedor walk to stand with the rest of the team. "Is F.R.I.D.A.Y recording that?" Maria asks as she shakes softly her head at the girl's over confidence when she drops her guard to taunt you. *Yes ma'am* F.R.I.D.A.Y. Answers. "Want to bet?" Tony asks casually, Pepper just rolls her eyes before slapping him lightly in the arm. Before he Fury can answer your back is slammed against the glass wall, Anika’s knee collided in your joined forearms, her hands slammed against the glass simultaneously with your body. Before you push her off, she throws a wink at them. Fedor babbles happily he is not new to the sudden hard sounds as Zrinka usually hangs around while you all train. "Hundred to Wolf. The kid is reckless as always. Hill?" the man says as he puts his hands on his hips. "Same. Anyway the only one getting the high price is Wanda" Maria says shrugging with her arms loosely crossed on her front. Tilting her head Wanda asks "Why is that Maria?" she asks with confusion all over her features. "Because someone will need a good massage later" Nat answers with a wink "If you don't want the task "I can do it" she says with a slay smirk, Bucky glares playfully at the redhead before he pinches her above her hips making her yelp in surprise. Wanda's cheeks flare bright red. Before she can retort Anika is slammed against the glass wall wings wide open, the wolves wag their tails harder and Fedor shrieks almost in delight. "Will someone stop them before they kill each other? “Pepper says out loud with concern in her voice. The rest just shrug. After fifteen minutes of tight battle both of you have busted lips, Anika swung a good elbow at your face making a cut above your left eyebrow. It didn't take you long to return the favor, now she has a cut on her right cheekbone from a reverse circular elbow. Anika has several darkening bruises, her spandex shorts and low cut top letting them visible, the clothes don't let them show but you can feel your fair share she has become really strong. Anika's ragged breath is faster than yours but her sassiness doesn't lower as she dances and jumps a little taunting you "What's up old dog, You can't take a kid down? Should I call Wan to back you up?". "Speak for yourself birdy, you are eighteen years younger and you are winded out". "I'll leave you wind out and not from screaming my name old dog" she says with a feral grin, Pietro quickly covers his baby ears to chastise the young woman "Anika! Don't talk dirty in front of the baby!" "Such a responsible papa" Maria throws teasingly at him, Pietro just gives her the sassiest look before grinning lightly as he kisses his baby boy crown that is now in his arms the little boy's back flush to his front so he can see. The last round is harsher, this time she uses her teletransportation none of you holding back. The battle is thigh, she has become less predictable and more precise after training with all of you, she is an avid learner. She manages to sweep you off your feet but your muscle memory kicks in and you recover doing a macao move and you counter back with a tornado sweep. She is getting tired and is easier for you to follow her even with her speed (thank god you always train with Pietro). She goes for a superman punch busted with her teletransportation, but you sense it coming, you side step her right fist, tilting to your body to the right at the same time you throw a left upper cut to her exposed liver making her groan in pain. When she is pushed back by the force of your punch you tackle her to the ground, gaining the upper mount position for a ground and pound, but instead you force her on her left side for an armbar to her right limb. She tries to slap you with her wings but you don't lose the grip, your heavier body and moves are so fast that she has no option but tap out. You quickly release her arm, and roll backwards avoiding her wing, staying on seiza posture traying to catch your breath. "Holy shit, you still move fast old wolf. I thought I had you" she whines within her ragged breath, but she still laughs. "You almost catch me in that last punch. Sit on your knees to catch your breath" you instruct between pants. "Nah I'm good just like this". She says putting her hands under her head wings sprawled on the floor. --- "Holy fuck!" Sam exclaims, extending a hundred bill to Steve. "Wanda your girl still has the moves. Time to pay fellas!" Clint exclaims. "That was they 'training'?" Pepper asks having a hard time believing what she just witnessed. --- Two pair of boots catch your hearing even though the thundering of your heart fills your ears. "Are you done playing Y/N?" the harshness of his statement tries to hide the glee on his voice. "That boldness after I made you gain some silver Nick?". Maria stands in front of you extending her hand, slowly with her help you stand up. "That was a fine show of skill Wolf". Anika is not impressed with them not addressing her, mockery mode on she monologues "Are you ok Anika? Yeah thank you, do you need some help? No thanks I'm doing fine lying on the ground, beautiful view". Maria address her turning her head her body still facing you "You choose to stay there kid". "Hill has someone told you that you have a nice side profile view?" She says while she ranks her eyes from her face to her boots "I could stay on the ground forever" she says winking at Maria. Hill frowns and Nick hardens his stare on Anika. "Kid shut your mouth before agent Hill show you some moves that won't be pleasant at all".  "Really? For the record, I want to try some kinky stuff if you are up to agent Hill" she throws a wink at the older woman while she beckons her curling her index finger. "I'm regretting saving you kid" Maria says arms crossed and deep frown on her face. Everyone laughs at the annoyed statement. "That hurt" she says while putting her hand above her heart, "If you change your mind I'll be in the shower" she throws a last wink. Before Hill can try something she vanishes. Hill turns around to glare at you, you only shrug "I don't blame her". "Take a shower Wolf we have things to discuss" Fury orders. You nod and turn around to walk out, Maria still glaring at you, turning your head backwards you throw her an "As entertaining as that could be, I'm sorry Hill but you can't join me". "I'm going to kill you Y/N" she says with a deep frown as she uncrosses her arms. "Not if I reach her first" Wanda says eyes bright red you try to outrun her off the gym and you briefly do but using her powers she propels herself latching herself on your back like a koala, her arms around your neck in a head lock, you fake tumbling before going down on your left knee "Get off me you little feral red panda!". "Give up Wolf!" she grunts tightening her hold. "Let go or I'm rolling on the floor" you warn her 'sternly' her eyes shine in mischief "You won't" she states with singing voice. "Oh really?" you say playfully as you get on your feet, instead of a front roll you secure her arms and stroll up a few paces gaining momentum to swiftly do a double leg flip she shrieks in surprise when you land she laughs and leans forward to lightly nibble your earlobe "Ouch! Wan! Oow!" The rest just laugh at your playful banter. --- After a 'quick' shower your hurry back to the conference room. Fury and Hill are not the only ones there. Bucky, Nat and Barton are already there "What's up cap you had another round?" Clint throws playfully from his place sitting by Nat's ride side, Bucky by her left. "Shut it Barton" you throw at him with a tiny smirk. "keep personal matters to yourselves please... You all have done an amazing job training that problematic kid Y/N" Nick states with his usual stern face. "Thank you Fury, but she was deadly already. Did she apologized Maria?" you enquire looking at the woman. "She did, the sassiness and boldness against her sweetness is worth a whiplash"   the woman tries to keep her stern demeanor, but a tiny smile appears on her face. "That's Anika. However, we are not here for bets and discussing Anika, are you?". "Take a sit Wolf" Nick orders lightly and you relent sitting by Bucky's left. "You have a mission" He slides a folder towards you. "You have 36 hours max to execute the operation, leaving in three days by night, after Morse and Carter are back from their mission and catch some rest. You have available an untraceable quinjet, bring them alive". You grab the file to skim over the information the mission is in south-west India... You are hunting down a group of rogues: Hydra, C.I.A, ex-military, former S.H.I.E.L.D two of the people listed look 'familiar' but you can't really recall from where "What's the catch Nick? A Winter Soldier, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Mockingbird, Agent 13 and the Ice Wolf just hunting down some rogues" the last you say it more as a question than statement. "We saw what you did before your extraction" Fury set a grim look at you "Some of the agents you are hunting down were on Raft, the mission might trigger some memories". "And still you are trusting me to go and follow orders? I want blood Nick" you state in almost a growl. Fury sets you on a even harder scowl and leans his open hands on the table "This is a mission Wolf we are sending YOU because if someone can identify anyone else is YOU, there was a lot of cover up from the government". You chuckle a little "I've been having flashbacks from those months everything is blurry but the fucking pain is there, just as real as the day they cut me open, and you really think I will hold back?" "You are better than an animal seeking revenge Y/N, you are cold, precise and sharp when needed. If you wanted 'BLOOD' as you claim you'd have gone to that prison and slaughtered everyone already" he states staring down expectantly at you. You chuckle dryly as you shake your head softly, the man stares sternly at you "Have I ever told you I hate when you are right old man?" you say as you lean back lazily on the chair. "Never told me out loud but... you aren't that unreadable after eight years" He says as he stands tall again and shrugs. "I don't know if I should be grateful or freaked out by that Nick". "See it as we care about you, that would makes it less...scary for you" Maria says with a wink. --- You walk in your loft which is empty the rest are still hanging out in the compound. "F.R.I.D.A.Y can you ask the twins to meet me here when they are back, please". *Of course capwolf*. (Damn tin man and his damned humor). In your walk in closet, you push a panel hidden in the wall. A tall sliding shelf pops out, there are four metal cases with your gear and weaponry, the largest one at the bottom is forty inches long, three more of twenty-five inches are piled up. You take the one above the biggest one. Slowly you release the security clasps and put the code on the small touch window. After a soft click you open it. In the top lid your twin twenty-four inches wakizashis are secured alongside two military hunting knives. In the box, there's two twin barettas with the respective suppressors, three sets of maggs for each one. These weapons have the Ice Wolf symbol engraved, they are plain matt charcoal black. Unlike the other set of weapons this aren't for show off or intimidation this set is your 'hunting set'. Methodically you begin to check them over. You hear the twins entering but you make no move to hide the gear, instead you keep sharpening your sword. Unknown to you they exchange worried glances. Pietro is the first to ask "When do you leave?" you turn your head around to face him "three days by night time", his eyes speak a million words but he doesn't speak his mind instead he just states "I'll check your motorcycle and have it ready" with that he leaves the room. Wanda gets close to sit by your side silently she starts checking the maggs. Her soft voice halts the sharpening of your swords "Are you sure about this Y/N? I know you've been training harder, but I have also seen your nightmares and flashbacks" she turns around to set her gaze on yours "Are you ready to go without us?". This past month you've been in several missions but never alone, you have been with either alongside the twins and Anika or with the whole team. You briefly squeeze your eyes close "Wan I can't keep hiding behind you guys, I love working with all of you but... I need to be able to work alone again". She locks you on a stern look, she would never just read your mind, that doesn't mean she won't pressure a little to make you talk. You have an awful tendency of bottle up everything. "Wan... I need to do this. No one messes with the 'Ice Wolf' and lives to tell the tale, also... I barely have memories of what happened but I know they won, they broke me and almost kill me, as much as this is revenge this is also a power play, Hydra is rejoicing in the fact that they almost kill me" you sigh before you keep sharpening the swords. Wanda sighs in defeat "And that's why you have to kill them?, we both know than with this" she says nodding to the suitcase "Is not just kill them, that will be a bloodbath" she takes stops your moves taking your steel hand in hers. "I'm just worried, I know how hard is to wash off that much red" she speaks softly her bright green eyes beckon yours. You set the sword over the wet stone and shuffle a little to face her. Taking her hands in yours, "Will you be here for me?". She shuffles closer "I told you before babe, always". With your left hand you cradle her face, thumb softly tracing her cheek bone, wasting no time you lean forward to kiss her, the kisses are hard and slow her soft lips brushing against yours you let her set the pace. Someone clearing it's throat makes you drift apart. "Shall I come later? Clint says small smirk on his face, he doesn't miss the weaponry at display. Your eyes never leave Wanda. "Barton, what can I do for you?". "Is it true that you know chef Rachell from Collin's?" he enquires a little sheepishly. You tilt your head in curiosity before looking at the man "Yes I do, do you wish a table?" he nods "If is not much asking" he adds. "I'll get you a table Clint, better yet, I'll give the chef your number, set the date, the tab is on me". "Thank you Y/N, I'll leave you to go on with... Another round" he says throwing a wink before rushing out. --- After checking over the weapons you set the cases aside and hug Wanda from behind while she washes her hands "Hey baby what about you ride with me I'm going back to the compound to beg Cho once again before I lose a million". "You just want me flush in your back" she says with a smirk as you catch her eyes in the mirror. You lean in to kiss her jaw "Can you blame me? Besides you have an excuse to feel up my abs". "You are trouble Y/N" she says with a snort. "You love trouble little one" you lowly murmur in her ear and kiss her ear shell. --- Back in your days as Hydra you spied around the globe you've been many things, from scum to one of the most respected captains of the Russian army, you've been a killer, a mentor, a captain, a fight dog, you've been the 'good guy' but one of your favorite things is that you fill up the role of 'bad guy' effortlessly. Black clothes, check. Leather jacket, check. Dark sunglasses, check. A sweet ride? Check. Beautiful woman to ride with you? Double check. Both of you wear leather you opted for dark grey slacks and black leather motorcycle jacket with the wolf head yellow gold tread work. Wanda wears charcoal leather slacks with a scarlet leather motorcycle jacket the line work is gothic cross with back and gold thread and both of you wear combat boots, tactical shoulder dual holsters under the jackets, and combat  knives hidden on the boots, you all know better than get your guard down. As both walk out of the loft you whistle in appreciation at the view of her rear, you slap her cheekily, she smirks before sharply turning around to yank you down by the leather jacket to kiss you, but instead she just ghosts her lips her warm breath caressing un parted lips before running ahead. The elevator opens revealing the vehicles and motorcycle collection that the three of you have which is quite 'modest' today's selection is a nice sweet ride a Harley-Davidson Softrail Deluxe in pearl white and ice white of course the suspension was modified to withstand your weight and the seat is larger to fit a second passenger, your girl. Your ride helmets are AGV Pista GP R E2205 with polarized automated visors. On the go ride you take the handle Wanda behind you and absolutely feeling up your abs, another feature added to the helmets is the integrated comms that allow you both to hear and talk freely. As you ride in the outskirts to the compound surrounded by the forest you feel Wanda loosening her hold and her cellphone appears on your chin level you feel her body lifting off the seat to rest her head over your shoulder "Lift your visor" she orders "Trouble" your murmur but you do as she says pressing the button of the temple to lift the visor. "Come on Love! At least smile" she says playfully you try to stay cool and collected but can't really keep stern when you are riding and Wanda is standing on the bike trying to get a selfie, you smile broadly as she takes the pic and lowers herself on the seat again as you lower back the visor "Hold tight love" she puts the visor back in places and does as you requested and you speed up to the compound. After parking on the indoors garage you walk in the compound, you ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to call Cho in one of the empty conference rooms. As you walk to the conference room you see the recruits giving both of you side glances and fangirling until Hill calls them out of their bullshit, threatening them with a even harsher training session. Wanda and you only look at each other with knowing smirks and she winks at you, the fitting leather gives a good idea of what’s underneath. Wanda and you laze around in the conference room as Zrinka, Pietro, Costel and Anika tease the shit out of you in the group chat after Wanda sent them the pic. Sam W: what?! WOLF actually smiles?! Anika: Mommas on a joy ride you didn't take me with you </3 Silver Devil: Sistra I want my twin back in a single piece. Wanda don't get handsy in the bike! ;)          Too late Maximoff! ;) Mama Zrin: Pietro! Leave them alone, looking good guys! Romanoff: Wolf I wouldn't mind going on a ride with you ;)  Little one: Natalia back off! >:|          ;)) B: Don't you dare Natalia! Looking good guys. Next time let's ride together!          I'm sorry Buck, we don't play that way :) Stark: Roasted! Hahahaha. You've made my day capwolf. Sam W: CHARRED!! W.S: Come on Wolf! I didn't mean that. @Steve Rogers back me up man. Cap Rogers: You played yourself Buck... After a while you lit a cig which Wanda and you share. For your surprise instead of one set of footsteps there's three sets nearing and you know damn well who those belong to. Helen speaks up as she walks in "Y/N I told you I won't help you with that request" she says sternly as she pinches the bridge of her nose you notice the slight nervousness on her body language, she told Fury and Hill. You sigh a puff of smoke. "Y/N what's your deal with Ulysses Klaue? You know who he is, right?" Maria voices sternly. "He is an old business partner of ours. We made a deal with him and part of our pay is what we requested of Helen" Wanda says with an even voice as she takes the cig of your lips. Maria and Nick tilt their heads in disbelief if this wasn't that serious you'd laugh at the sight. "Enlighten us Wolf what was the deal about?" Fury asks with a little mock in his tone. "Intel, getting back something he stole and paying off an old debt". "And you expect us to let him enter the country and the compound with that enlightening answer?" Hill chimes in. "Getting him in is not trouble neither was bringing him to the compound" you state a little too boldly, Helen stiffens a little and the intensifying atmosphere. "What are you playing Wolf now you deal freely with international most wanted?" Nick throws as he gets closer to stare down at you. You shrug a little before leaning back on the chair "Come on Nick, you all know where I come from". "And that's past" He says sternly "Or do you still give reports to Hydra?" he throws hitting a sore spot. You get angry at that last low punch quickly getting on your feet to tower over the director, Wanda quickly grabs your left hand grounding you and keeping you in place with her powers "That's low Colonel, if that was the case I'd be stored in cryo waiting for a mission not dealing with PTSD" you sneer at him, at least Fury has the decency to show a little regret at the low blow as Maria adverts her gaze briefly. Clenching your jaw a few times you set to answer after taking back your sit, Wanda intertwine your hands calming you with her powers "I bought his last vibranium vial, I paid a reasonable price for it. The old debt was his lost merch when Ultron severed his arm..." you clench your jaw at the las missing part luckily Wanda cuts in again "The intel was Y/N's possible relocation to Raft". Nick sighs in contemplation and Maria paces a little, Helen just stands a little uncomfortable due to the whole situation. But the doctor has her own questions "Why offer him that Y/N?" Helen asks finally, curiosity shinning in her eyes. "I used it to lower the price of the vibranium. We also played a part on the loss of his arm and most important I gave him my word. I have a reputation to withhold... If you refuse my request I'll have to pay the last half of the original price and my word will become worthless" you say with a shrug. Helen looks at the two commanding officers, she wants to help is a good opportunity but she does not want to over-step due to the fact that Ulysses is one of the most wanted criminals. "Is he a liability?" Fury asks after pondering options. "Well he is bat shit crazy, prone to talk-back and say stupid shit, but he is not that bad. We've been doing business for years, he kept his mouth shut while I worked behind Hydra's back. As annoying as it will be we can keep him in line" you grab another cigarette to light up. After some pondering Fury finally relents "Make sure no one knows about this and tell him to keep his big mouth shut" Nick orders, he waits until you lit the cigarette to snatch it out of your lips "Stop smoking for fuck's sake" he keeps the Insignia on his grasp and walks out of the conference room. "You could have asked for one!" you shake your head in amusement and take out the package to take another, this time Maria waits until you grab one to snatch the package "Pleasure talking as always Wolf, director's orders" she walks out too. You grin as you shake your head in amusement Wanda laughs at the commanding officers blunt snatch of cigs. "Hey Helen can I smoke this or you'll snatch it from my lips?" you say lifting the roll between your fingers. "Nah I don't want your saliva on it" she graciously takes the tobacco roll from your grasp and walks to the door "Have him in my lab in a week time, nice chat guys" she walks out. Wanda laughs as she walks around to stand before you and leans in resting her hands on the arm rests of the chair "Since when a mortal can snatch something from the big bad Wolf?" she says kissing away your frown softly. "Since I can't kill for overstep" you say with a sigh before grabbing Wanda's nape to pull her down to kiss her deeply. Wanda straddles your lap resting her shins on the seat. The taste of the hard tobacco gets in the way of the kiss but neither of you mind. Her hands travel to your hair scratching your scalp as your hands travel up her tights to below her but cheeks to pull her flush to you, caressing her rear your hands stay at her lower back. The make out is bruising hard and yet controlled and slow you are getting a little carried away when a voice snap both of you from the make out. "For fucks sake Wolf! Go to your room" May exclaims with annoyance on her voice as she signals the door and then crosses her arms in authority. "You slay dog, you are corrupting the sweet innocent Wanda!" Skye throws in between laughter as she walks in, Jemma by her side with flushed cheeks. "Like you are better Skye, do I have to remind you how the tower shakes lightly after or during a party? F.R.I.D.A.Y can you tell us the last source point". *The last source point was the kitchen in the common room below the party level, the two participants in the intercourse were...* "OK OK! I get it that's enough F.R.I.D.A.Y" Skye exclaims in a mild panic as May glares at her in disbelief. After teasing the hell out of Skye and almost getting your ass kicked by mama bear May the two of you ride back to the tower, this time Wanda takes the handlebars you engulf her midriff completely with your arms. --- [Phone ringing] *My beloved Captain! Are you calling me to give me green light to cash the cheque? * You sigh in annoyance *No. I'm calling you to inform you that I want your ass in a week time at the coordinates I'm sending you*. *What the hell Wolf?! If you wanted to kill me at least do it where someone can find me* You slap the heel of your metal hand on your forehead *Ulysses that's an abandoned airport in Yucatan, Mexico. Get your ass there and we'll go for you* *I take you are giving me a ride back? * *Yes Ulysses, I'll take you back. Be at 01:30 am* *I'll see you there. Goodbye my lover* he sings the last part with his usual annoying banter. When you end the calls Wanda is snickering behind her hand, you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation, you begin to wonder if it’s better to loose a million instead of dealing with him. --- After a good tiresome afternoon of training and training recruits, Wanda is setting up a bath for the both of you however, you have your own ways to woo your girl and it’s been awhile since you last saw Rachell. [Phone ringing] *Hey chef, can you set a private in the garden tomorrow night?* *You don't have to ask Y/N, is 19:30 good for you? Is just you and Wan or Pietro is joining? * *Just Wan and I chef, I don't know if he wants to tag along*

*I’ll check with him. Do you have something especial in mind?*

surprise us* after bidding farewell you hung up. Wanda calls from the bathroom "Did I just hear you setting a date puppy?". "I will woo off your fancy dress tomorrow little one". "F.R.I.D.A.Y can you ready the red and black Veyron by seven" *Of course capwolf* After a few seconds Wanda's laughter fills the bathroom. You just sigh in defeat before you rush in the bathroom to attack her with tickles, she laughs freely as you scoop her and walk in the shower stall. Little mind note, change back F.R.I.D.A.Y protocols. --- You don't always do fancy, but when you do, you both do it damn right. You are wearing a Georgio Armani a grey palette tuxedo made by request with a silk black dress shirt (Take that Tony) the last touch to your attire is a soft black leather glove for your right hand. Wanda is wearing a Givenchy long sleeved wine red night dress with a low cleavage and black high stilettos, she kept her make up mostly natural, with smoky dark shade on her eyes making them even shine  brighter, red lipstick on point. You crock your right arm "Shall we my lady?"  "Lead the way captain" she says flashing you a dashing smile. ---  Unfortunately or luckily you need to pass outside the living room to take the lift to the garage area. You try to make your exit without catching any attention, but Natasha has other ideas. "Wan! Don't you dare to leave without flashing us a look" The rest of the team follow her line of view they all are left staring at you jaws hanging open. Bucky's serious expression changes to a full smirk "It's been a while since I saw both of you dress to kill" he says winking in mischief. Tony wastes no time to walk up to Wanda to kiss the back of her hand like the gentleman he is "Wanda you look gorgeous, looking sharp robowolf, from now on I expect no less in my parties" you merely roll your eyes "Not a chance Stark, now if you excuse us we have a reservation". Pietro with Zrinka and Costel with Anika came behind you "Y/N! Can I drive the lambo? Pietro is taking the Centenario" Costel half asks half whines, the young man is in a charcoal tuxedo, Anika is wearing a strapless black dress and high heels.  Pietro is wearing a white and silver tuxedo, Zrinka is on a forest green slim dress and high heels, Fedor is in Pietro's arms wearing an adorable bear onesie. "Sure young man, Anika you look gorgeous. secondly I hope you didn't asked for the same table Pietro, no offence". "Non-taken Wolfy, I know you want to woo that red dress off" Anika says throwing a wink at Wanda "I don't blame you, I wouldn't mind taking that tuxedo off though" Costel covers his ears "Come on dude, I don't want to know your wet dreams!" he whines. Pietro shakes his head in amusement as he glares at the young ones "No sistra, we asked the chef for separate tables I don't want to deal with those two either". Tony's brain gears begin to work "Wait a minute, where are you all going dressed like that? All the restaurants with that dress code need months ahead for a table...". "Collin's" Pietro says wide smirk on his face as aunty Nat walks close to take baby, Fedor he wastes no time diving in the redhead's arms "You look so adorable little man" she coos at the baby, with her back on Tony she dares to smirk she knows how you know the chef. Tony can't hide his surprise at Pietro's answer "How? Even I have to warn the chef days before". With a neutral face you state "Tony we own fifty percent of the restaurant. Now if you excuse us" you flash him a little side smirk before walking to the elevator. "Burn!" Sam hollers from the kitchen, you all might think Fedor is way more intelligent and awake than a normal baby because he started to gurgle happily in Nat's arms after Sam’s callout. "Fedor! that's betrayal young man, you are just like you papa" Tony says crossing his arms loosely indignantly but the baby keeps his toothless smile at him which makes the genius give in and smile at him "Lets upgrade that adorable onesie". "Tony No!" Steve, Bucky and Sam chastise him at the same time while Clint throws a "Hell yes!" the wolves rush to push Tony away from the baby. --- You chose to use the main entrance, nevertheless to say the clients waiting for their respective cars, looked surprised when the three luxurious cars came to a halt and the six of you step out of the Veyron, Centenario and black and copper Aventador. The hostess rushes to you, "Maximoff's a pleasure having you all here!" she extends her hand to Anika, "A pleasure finally meeting you Anika, my name is Lilian". Anika's eyes shine with the glint of trouble. Lilian is a beautiful woman her cat-like blue hazel eyes shine brighter due to her kind personality and welcoming energy, besides she and her wife are in a great shape "Kid don't flirt the dame, she is the chef's wife" You say in warning.

The young one rolls her eyes "That's a shame, however I'm not the jealous type" she throws a wink at the older woman. The five of you merely shake your heads is disapproval "My apologies Lilian, she is a little bold and a flirt".  "It's cute. Actually, Anika I'm not the jealous type either, however my wife is and as Y/N said she is THE CHEF" Anika gulps a little as the rest of you smirk. --- The garden is the most exclusive spot in the restaurant, there's only six tables. The space is divided by several waterfalls and ponds with islands of Japanese sand gardens, the natural elements give privacy to the tables, surrounded by beautiful flowers, the lighting is dim and warm, several rows of light bulbs hanging above give a starlight like environment. Wanda and you don't sit in the typical in front of each other arrangement both of you prefer sit side by side, Wanda by your left side to feed each other, in the moments between plate courses both of you intertwine your hands. Chef Collin's didn't took for granted your request, she personally cooked some fancy and elaborated dishes that are not on the regular menu along with ridiculously fancy appetizers, even the desserts were on point, she sent the most exclusive wine selection with each plate. As almost everyone knows who you are and Rachel's staff know you, you decided to take off the right glove the upgrade that they did allow you to take things and even use touch screens without the need of a glove, god bless Stark's and Shuri's genius tech. By the end of the dinner the one and only chef Rachel Collins and Lilian walk to your table, Stolichnaya Himalayan edition in her hand. "Hope you don't mind us crashing in for a toast Y/N" the woman states, she is wearing a black uniform jacket, she has her trademark hairstyle which is a pixie cut, the woman is 5'3" tall with an athletic build, as much as she loves food she loves training, mostly CrossFit. "Never my friend, take a sit" you say with a smile motioning to the empty seats in front of you. She starts pouring the drinks "I have to say Y/N you scared the fuck out of us, I thought we lost you, not just once but twice. I hope you don't pull another stunt like that again" Rachell says with a smile. "I hope that too my friend" you say with a smile After some clings from the glasses you drink the liquor. "By the way I left some Mamont and Kauffman bottles, and sokovian beer in the cars". "You are spoiling us my friend, thank you... However, I have a small request" you say casually, Rachel looks almost offended "Y/N you don't need to ask, what can I do for you?" she says leaning in a little. "A friend of ours wants a spot here, special date with his wife". You take a small card from your jacket name and number written down. She reads out loud "Clint Barton, Hawkeye right?" you nod taking another sip from the vodka "Make it special the tab is on me".  "One condition" you peek over the rim of the glass with curiosity, she goes on "Tell the kids to stop flirting with my wife and staff. I have enough trouble with my female staff trying to get close to Pietro. Now everyone wants Costel's and Anika's numbers, by the way what the hell are you feeding Costel with? He is so big If I didn't know better I'd think he is actually Pietro's kid". You can't help snort a little "Well he lives with a bunch of super soldiers and trains with us. Did Anika flirt with both of you already?" you barely hold your laughter. "Let me quote 'Sexy fit hottie in uniform, knows how to cook? And model wife to share, sign me up already' Costel burst out laughing" the woman says with a frown. Wanda jiggles behind her hand before speaking up "Please ask for something else Rachel, that's almost impossible. She can apologize to both of you though". Lilian cuts in before her wife "Nah is ok as long as she doesn't cross the line" she says waving her hand Rachel just frowns further. As you talk over the liquor you see something in Rachel's and Lilian's eyes, Wanda takes your left hand in hers ("Rachel wants to ask you on partnership for a third venue. Lilian is wondering about the scars on your left hand"). When a natural comfortable silence sets in you take the chance to tease the women "My friends talk, ask away or I'll ask Wan to read your minds". The two women are taken off guard and look a little sheepish, Rachel clears her throat nervously "I have an idea for a third venue I was hoping you three will hop in the train with me again" she says fidgeting a little with her glass on the right hand as Lilian tries to calm her down touching her left forearm. Wanda and you smile at her and rise and eyebrow teasingly, your woman makes the real questions "Do you have a location, concept and budget?". "Just like that?” Racchel’s face lights up in surprise “Come on guys at least make me beg or something, you are way too kind" She says between snickers "Yes I have, take a look" Lilian hands you the tablet, even though your new bionic arm has no issue grabbing things without risk you use your left hand by pure habit and you catch Lilian briefly inspecting the scarred flesh. The location is Chicago, the renders are astonishing the venue is sleek modern, everything states luxury and yet it gives a warm feel. It has several indoor gardens, the venue is bigger than this one, being the roof garden the most exclusive spot with several ranging in size tornado fountains... You whistle lowly in appreciation "This looks astonishing" you say out loud. "1,600,000.00 greens" Rachel states nervously. You snicker at the number "I was expecting no less" you say with a smirk, "Tomorrow I'm heading for a mission... Give us a week or so... Same deal, Fifty?". "Actually I was hoping you guys will put a sixty..." she begins to get nervous "...I-I could get other partners if that's too much..." as she rambles Lilian shakes her head softly before halting her with a kiss on her cheek. You lift Wanda's hand to kiss her knuckles as Rachel’s brain stops short-circuiting, Wanda smiles fondly at the nervous woman "Relax, we can ask Tony or the other's to hop in if we can’t make it".  You smile at Wanda's statement, money or business partners aren't an issue "The venue is dealt with, Lilian ask away" you say with a small smile. "I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't meant to stare" she says sleepily fidgeting with Rachels ring. "Is ok Lilian, I know this is not an easy sight to take" you state opening and closing your hands slowly, Wanda skims her hand over your left forearm to rest over your wrist, Wanda breaks the slight awkward atmosphere "I was hoping this stubborn woman will take some time off, but here she is heading to the field tomorrow" she says pinching your left cheek playfully, you  turn your head to bite her fingers lightly, before stealing a peek on her lips. Lilian lightly breaths out in relief and this time is Rachel’s turn to ease her down. "I'm sorry I need to ask, is that white gold?" she half wonders half enquires sheepishly. You smile broadly at her "It is, not my choice though. All of this was a gift". After the bottle is emptied, Wanda and you left the restaurant. Pietro and Zrin were still chilling around while Anika and Costel were stuffing their stomachs. The funny part is that the patrons waiting for their cars thought that Stark lend you the cars, if they only knew. One nice thing about slightly tipsy Wanda is that she gets quite forward kissing and nibbling your neck and jawline while you drive back "Keep that up Wan, we are not making it to the tower" she just smirks before easing back on the seat, well that didn't work as you planned. --- You kill off the engine as you kiss Wanda's forehead "let's see what Collins left and set our party on in the loft, I have plans for your dress code Maximoff" she blushes before smirking in mischief. There's two boxes, one wood box has the liquor and a unannounced boxed bottle of Stolichnaya, the second case is a wheeled metal suitcase with the sokovian beer buried on ice. Wanda peeks at the liquor at display "She definitely wants another venue" you raise your eyebrow in question, "What? Her mind was running miles per hour" you kiss her in the corner of her lips "You are trouble Maximoff lets hide this before the vultures take it away". --- After storing the liquor, you opened two beer bottles and walked back to the living room to sit in the sofa "Wan?" you hear her heels clicking behind you "Looking for me?" that husky accented tone makes your brain short-circuit. Next thing you register is her sitting across your lap. You give her one of the opened beers, with her free hand she unties the bowtie and unclasp the vest, "Eager much little one?" you tease peeking her lips "The less clothes, more comfy" she stated nibbling playfully your jaw. Both of you stay a while simply enjoying the beers and each other warmth, Wanda shifted to lean her back on your front and your right arm moved to lay across her hips. Wanda took the chance to fidget with the leather glove as she took it off the metal hand. Is almost the calm before the storm, when the beers are over, you put the bottles aside in the corner table, and waste no time trailing your hands under her dress, as you nibble her neck you ghost your hands over her thighs to lift her dress your left hand registers the lingerie set, you reach up under her breasts, effortlessly you guide her to turn around to straddle your lap you lean up to talk lowly in her ear "Maximoff I told you I have plans for your dress code" then you move down to trail your tongue and bottom lip from the bottom of her cleavage to her jawline, then nibble her ear as her breath hinges softly, her hands skim from your shoulders to tug your hair, you  grab her by her tights just below her but cheeks without halting your ministrations you stand up to move to the built in personalized big bed. By the door Wanda eases back down to walk ahead to stand by the bed she gets rid of the dress using her powers to be left standing only in stilettos and gear belt lingerie (Fucking lucky bastard). ("Will you stand there looking captain? Or you will actually do something?") she beckons you curling her right index finger, eyes shining light red and full of lust. --- You wake up with a numb feeling on your left arm, as your mind tries to race you register the soft breathing on your neck, that makes you relax again, you lean over a little to kiss her head, then you turn towards the clock in the night stand it marks 04:31 , you whisper a low and husky "Little one" you sense her wake but she keeps her eyes close, "Wan my arm is numb" you feel her kissing softly your clavicle and lowly she murmurs "Sore, can't move" you laugh a little "That's not a problem" you lift her with the numb arm to have her lying over your front, she yelps in surprise "Y/N! Not fair your chest is cold" she slides back to your left side burying herself further on your warm skin "Shit! sorry little one" you grab the comforter to cover the right side of your chest to set her atop again, you set your left arm on her lower back, both nod off again. --- Your slumber is interrupted by the comforting smell of food and the sound of something frying. The clock marks 7:45 (She must be anxious). You put on a pair of black short jogger pants and a grey sports bra, as you move and fiddle with the clothes you feel a sting on your back but you ignore it, as you walk out you notice that the dress shirt is missing. You walk to the loft's common kitchen, in the counter are some of your favorite foods ready, Wanda is standing by the stove, her front towards you but she plays fool, you quickly make your way behind her, she is only wearing the black dress shirt, her long hair on a messy high bun. Resting your chin on her shoulder you proceed to slid your hands under the shirt, hands gracing over the scarlet lingerie. "Y/N you'll make me burn the food, take your coffee mug and sit on the bar stool" you stop your wandering hands under her breasts, and whisper in her neck "What if I want something else for breakfast darling?" her movements stop, you keep my hands at place and start kissing the crook of her neck, nibbling her neck up to her jaw. "Y/N! Oh god my eyes, not again" Pietro says dramatically turning around, Anika comes behind him "Piet, what’s going...Oh god! Y/N! that was something I never wanted to see! my innocence is fucking gone" she exclaims dramatically covering her eyes, Costel just turns bright red and Covers his eyes. Zrinka walks in covering Fedor's eyes with her right hand "Come on you bunch of whiney babies, it’s like you have no idea about sex". You put a last kiss on Wanda’s head before addressing them "what the hell are you all doing here?" clear annoyance in your voice but you can't be mad is good having this normalcy. "Well your girl called us for breakfast. But I see you have other ideas. Is it safe to sit in the bar stool? By the way the over grown pups are with Bucky" Anika says as they walks close. "I'm sorry babe, I should have warned you". Wanda says going back to cooking. "Is ok little one" after kissing her temple softly you turn around to grab five mugs of coffee and pour one. "Oh my god! Wanda are you a shifter?!" Anika screams. The green-eyed woman tilts her head in confusion as she cooks “No, why are you asking?" "Look at wolfy's back and tell me you didn't shift into a tigress or something" she says pointing behind Wanda. Pietro starts laughing out alongside Zrinka "Sis, you over did it" he exclaims within laughter, the brunette's eyes widen in realization. You try to look at your back but you can only catch the beginning of a scratch mark starting at the top of the left shoulder, however that's not the only one you can feel the sting of other starches in different places. "That bad?" you muse with a wide smirk.  "I would say that good instead babe" Wanda says winking at you. "Oh my god, guys let's have breakfast somewhere else" Pietro says motioning to stand up. "Nah I'm good, Wanda's food is worth having to hear them flirting and witnessing their sex marks" Anika says with a shrug as Costel hangs his head backwards doing dead whale noises. Zrinka just jiggles as he pulls Pietro back on his seat. You leave a coffee mug by Wanda's side with a kiss on her cheek and sit beside her and put a mug holder and the jar of fresh brewed coffee. "What else did you do last night guys?" you ask at the young ones, Fedor motions grabby hands at you and you scoop him from Zrinka's arms and cradle him with your left arm avoiding your cold right side he begins to play with the metal scales on your chest. Anika shrugs "Well nothing as exciting as you two clearly" she says waggling her eyebrows "The chef left some sokovian beers in the lambo, but not her number, we went to the beach to drink some". Your eyes widen as you sip the beverage "Anika I told you to be careful were you drink, I know that you didn't have that problem in Hydra, but now you are an Avenger" you say with a light frown "Costel?" "Don't worry Y/N we went outskirts, no witnesses, it was just a couple of beers". Costel says in their defense. Wanda sets the last plate and sits beside you "Anika Y/N is right, just be careful. Let's enjoy the breakfast".  "Yes mom". After the ridiculous amount of food is gone Pietro clears his throat grabbing your attention "So sistra, I was thinking..." "Oh no that is bad" Costel teases him with a smile. Pietro glares at him while Zrinka tries to hide her smile behind her napkin. "... we need a new SUV, one not so big, but faster to ensure a swift scape if needed... As he rambles on you lift your eyebrow in annoyance, Wanda rolls her eyes and gives her hand to Fedor so he can play with her rings. You cut off Pietro "If you want the Urus buy it yourself, you are a big boy Piet pay for your shit". "ROASTED!" Anika exclaims pointing at the silver haired sokovian as she laughs, Pietro glares at her as Costel loses it almost spiting his drink. "Aw! Come on baby I told you, don't be a grumpy" Zrin says kissing his cheek. "Besides you'll lose the maximum speed after you bulletproof the SUV" you point out the small detail looking at him, as you feel Fedor slapping your upper chest lightly to grab your attention. "I would have asked Shuri to coat the SUV in vibranium" he says with a shrug.

You are cooing at the baby when Pietro’s statement makes you snort "So, you don't have money to buy the vehicle, but you have money to coat it in vibranium? You are unbelievable Piet". --- Wanda and you spend the morning chilling out in the common living room, both wearing sweat pants and S.H.I.E.L.D shirts. Fedor stayed with you both lounging on the big sofa watching movies and eating a mix of junk food and fruits giving him some smashed soft fruits. Pietro and Zrinka took the chance to go ahead and do a trip to the mall for baby stuff. The wolves went with Anika and Costel for a jog in Central Park. Fedor is quite easy to take care he is calm and easygoing, he is quite engrossed by the metal on your body so he usually plays with the metal scales or even explores the uncovered scars, which is soothing for your soul that he is by no means  afraid of you, he likes to have your metal arm around him so he can pat and feel the metal scales. When he is in Wanda's arms he plays with her rings and necklaces, he loves grabbing her attention and get a view of the smoky shapes Wanda makes with her powers making him gurgle and shriek in delight. Wanda is cuddling on your left side as the baby plays with the cross charms of her necklace your arm is over your woman’s shoulders, when he gets bored he starts to wiggle to change positions and lay with his belly on Wanda's shoulder, you feel his tiny hands tugging your shirt to pat and scratch lightly the scar tissue as he inspects it, but he gets a better idea and you end up with your bicep drenched on baby slobber. "My love, you'll end up being his teether if you let him keep mouthing your scars" Wanda says as she tilts her head up and watches Fedor sucking your bicep as you discuss with Wanda the pros and cons of letting Fedor do that, Peter walks in shyly and stands the beside the T.V. He smiles fondly before speaking "Slobber suits you Ms. Wolf" you catch the nervousness of his voice, which now is odd after your first encounters he has become more at ease with you.  "Hello Peter, what can I do for you?" you ask with a small friendly smile, is not every day that he comes to you for help usually Papa Tony or Grandpa Steve has everything covered. He scratches the back of his head a little before crossing his arms nervously "Can... Can we... Maybe talk for a second?" the last part has such a hopeful tone that kind of worries you. "Sure young man" Fedor protest a little when you shift your arm from the spot and lean forward in attention, Wanda shifts him to lay him on her arms again his back on her belly, hands around his middle and he begins to play with her rings. You look at him expectantly with a teasing smirk, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Why can't I join all of you in the big missions?" he asks in a rush and breaths out in relief. You briefly side eye Wanda, clueless of how to answer that. You know that Peter always want to prove himself specially to Tony "I'm sure you asked Tony and Steve that. Why do you want my answer?" you enquire in confusion prompting him to rub his face in annoyance. ("Wrong answer puppy, everyone is doing that to him"). "Why you all do that to me?" he exclaims a little exalted "You take Anika on big missions, she even goes with you guys. That's not fair! I train as hard as her, we are almost the same AGE!... Come on someone has to give me a better answer!" As you follow his outburst you see Fedor getting upset, not because he is afraid of Peter or the shouting, he is upset due to Peter's distressed outburst. "Peter..." he keeps going "Peter! calm down" you raise your voice slightly and yet with a heavy commanding undertone. "I'm sick of calming down! I'm sick of all of you treating me like a fragile thing! I could stand my own against YOU and Mr. James!" (time to show some respect then). You stand up bluntly, startling Fedor lightly. Walking up to Peter with a tight and commanding demeanor he immediately shuts up and loses a couple of shades of color. "Oh my god" he covers his mouth with his palms in surprise as he steps back slightly "I'm sorry captain". You fold back your arms to your waist line to retrieve the two handguns hidden on your waist line and take off the safety. You keep one on your right and give him the one on your left. He shakily takes it and keeps the muzzle to the floor. You raise yours at him "Shoot me or I shoot you" you order coldly. His eyes widen "What?! NO! Why?!". "Three, two..." He quickly puts the safety back and drops the gun, you see his breath getting ragged "I won't shoot you!". "I gave you an order, shoot or I shoot you. Life or dead situation, Hydra got me back in asset mode there's no back up for you. I'm the one in the path of saving Tony. If you don't shoot me I kill both of you". You hear Tony's hurried steps entering the room alongside Steve, Natasha and Bucky the last two flanking Tony. Wanda took the chance to move away Fedor secured with a red bubble. You show no trace of faltering when you shift your gun to Tony the bullet path is straight to hit above his arc reactor if you pull the trigger. Peter gets visibly anxious. "Y/N! The fuck are you playing to?! Drop that gun!" Steve exclaims, before Tony. ("Buck and Nat are ready"). "Shoot me Parker! Three, two, one" you shoot but instead of firing at Tony you move the trajectory at the last second towards Bucky who catches the bullet with his metal hand. Still you scare the shit out of Peter. In a millisecond after thought he launches himself at you with a well-placed and hard as hell right hook at your temple, you barely dodge it leaning back. Instead of hitting your temple there's the distinguishable sound of something breaking and you feel the bone and cartilage of your nose breaking. Well you have to admit the kid is absolutely strong and fast, besides you never foresaw him launching at you. The punch sends you to the floor belly down, he almost knock the shit out of you which is no easy feat. With ragged breath Peter is standing with his arm still crossed in the direction of the punch. When he snaps out of his stunned panicked state he realizes that Tony is safe and sound, Bucky simply uses the kinetic energy of the arm to turn the bullet to dust, his hand opens to reveal the dust remains with a tiny smile on his lips. "Well that should be lesson enough, don't you think Nat?" Steve says with his arms crossed over his chest and motioning with his head towards you. Natasha smirks and walks a few steps to kneel beside you, as Wanda still covers the baby's eyes with one hand shaking her head softly in disapproval "I told her it wasn't a good idea". "Oh my God!" Peter exclaims when he realizes he indeed punched you and hard. Wanda smiles softly at him and uses her powers to calm him down, her warmth smoky energy waves wrap around him like a hug "Ms. Wanda I'm sorry". You lift your upper body leaning on your right forearm your breath is a little ragged "Don't sweat it kid, indeed you can pack a punch" you state with a snicker before forcibly breathing out through your nose, staining further the floor in crimson, you feel blood pouring down your nose and slipping on your throat. "That's disgusting Wolf" Nat says with a hand on your shoulder with a broad smirk "F.R.I.D.A.Y could you please call Dr. Cho tell her our beloved Wolf needs cosmetical fix before we head to the mission tonight". *Right away miss Romanoff* Her request makes you snicker a little "You are enjoying this, aren't you?" you shift to sit on the floor breathing through your mouth. "Is not every day that someone almost knocks the shit out of you Wolf" Bucky says trying to keep his smile at bay. You see a handkerchief appearing before you with alongside a "That, was stupid robowolf" the genius can't keep the smile from his voice, you take it with your left hand "Thanks tin can". "I'm serious robowolf" you smirk at him before using the handkerchief to stop the blood. "Any explanation Wolf?" when you turn left towards Tony, Steve and Wanda, Fedor gurgles happily at you shaking his chubby hands and legs "At least someone is having a blast". Peter kneels in front of you, his eyes speaking volumes of worriedness and regret, your voice is a little muffled by the pressure applied to stop the bleeding "Kid, don't sweat it. It might have not been the best way..." Steve frowns before cutting you off "It was stupid Wolf". You give him a mighty eye roll that makes Peter smile shyly "As I was saying. What I put you through is what can happen in a mission Peter" his eyes snap to lock in yours "The enemy will explode every weakness and every chance to put you off balance and make you falter with no regard of using those who you love to break you". "Yes you are strong, yes you've been through a lot, but you have never killed in absolute cold blood. Those big missions you are so desperate to prove yourself in, they have no survivors". "But I thought... Does Anika... What?" "Anika wasn't trained by the Avengers Pete, she was trained in Hydra, killing is just a skill set to master. All the ex-Hydra and this red head" you motion at Nat "We do the dirty work it has to be done. Clint and the others don't doubt either". You put a reassuring hand on his shoulder "We love having you as an Avenger Pete, we might be selfish but allow us to preserve that good heart of yours” you say as you put your metal index finger above his heart “Believe me you are not the same after your first kill". You see him relax a little "So… I'm good enough? You all weren't sugar coating that I'm bad?". You give him a smirk "Pete, sugar coating is Tony's and Steve's thing not mine. Besides you are the friendly neighborhood spider-man" you say the last thing with a little groan as you stand up you give Peter a hand. "I'm sorry Wolf, for the punch" Peter begins to babble you stop him pulling him in a half hug, making him stop. "Pete I kind of deserved it, let's say this makes us even". After the hug is over Bucky hands you your guns with the safety on, you nod at him in thanks and tuck them back in place. "Give me a hug love" you open your arms at  Wanda she scrunches her nose in disgust "Hard pass, you'll left us sticky bloody" Fedor has other ideas and makes grabby hands at you "Don't even think about it Wolf" she says putting up a smoky barrier. --- By the time you reached the lab the bleeding had stopped. Wanda and Fedor hang out with you until Cho arrives, "Y/N... Puppy" Wanda's voice snap you out of the train of thought you were lost in while you are sitting in the exam table. You still get angsty and anxious in the labs the last nightmares you've had showed you flickers of labs, blood and pain. Now is not surprise the why your brain reacts this way. Even though you wish to deny it the brief choking sensation that give you the blood pouring down the back of your nose and throat almost give you a panic attack. Unknown to you Wanda followed your train of thought as she skimmed her left hand through your hair. "Take off your shirt, I'll help you clean up before Helen arrives" with Fedor resting on her arms she moves to retrieve the medical kit. You take off the shirt and leave it in your lap. Wanda comes back, she is about to hand you Fedor when he begins to gurgle happily at the door, the two of you turn around to the sight of Helen, Fury and Maria walking in. Fedor motions grabby hands at Maria and the woman loses her stern demeanor and walks up to take the baby dives in nuzzling briefly on her neck, before leaning back to stare in her eyes. Maria hands you a new uniform shirt before securing him in her arms. You eye the shirt, it indeed is your size "How do you know my size ma'am?" you wiggle your eyebrows playfully but you soon regret it with a stab of pain in the bridge of your nose. "There's a data base with your measures Wolf" she says with a frown "You aren't that lucky" you smirk at her come back. "I think you'll be his forever crush Maria" Wanda says, she cradles your cheeks softly her warm hands soothing you and close your eyes, she begins to softly rub off the dried blood of your face. "Why do you say that Wanda?" the deputy director in current baby duty asks tilting her head a little. "He loves your eyes" Wanda says with a hum as you enclose her with your arms. Maria blushes faintly at the answer and looks down at Fedor who is staring at her attentively, Nick gives her a small teasing smile "Just like his father" he says shaking his head before he locks you in a hard stare. "Don't look at me like that Nick I can't turn around" you say lightly without opening your eyes. "Wolf can't you refrain from doing stupid shit for one miserable day?" the director half states, half muses. "I have my days. The kid got the point though". Nick pinches the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh in annoyance "Helen will she be ready?". Helen is setting up her equipment, without looking away from the screens she answers with all seriousness "Well I can't repair her stupidity, but her nose will be ready". You snap your stare at her making Wanda roll her eyes at you "I have a huge need to feel offended Helen" you say with a frown. "Get over it. Keep frowning you'll get wrinkles" Helen says with a teasing tone. Anika, Costel and the wolves rush in and the young adults burst out in boisterous laughter at the sight of your broken nose. Costel accented voice is the first to tease "Man! Peter packed you a hell of a punch!". Anika goes next "Come on old dog! That's a shame to the family". You lock them in murderous scowl "Director can I get a window to hide two bodies?" the man just side smirks a little. You feel Wanda's hands moving back your face towards her "No killing family Y/N" she says with a stern face "Now you two you better run before I show you why the 'scarlet' in my code name". The two young adults gulp heavily before rushing out, the wolves wag their tails at they rushed backdown ("The big pups run fast"). After a further scolding from Nick and Maria due to reckless behavior while Cho helps you with her tech. The earful lecture ends when the commanding officers leave the lab.

A/N:

Hey fellas! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

I keep the question, is anyone interested in the prequel?

By the way now we are one away from 99, holy shit! that’s awesome!

As always my inbox, asks are open for you all if you want to chat or know a little more about this universe of the story.

[2bitnoir-blog]

Kitten Island

                                                               1.

First he noticed the noise.  Tiny eeks, like squeaky baby birds.  Birds were all over, different birds, and they squeaked but not like this.  

The veranda was long and low.  Jutted out the back of the house like an afterthought.  Stubby tree ferns squatted the length.  

At the tank-stand end a rabid bouganvillea threw purple and green up onto the corrugated tin wave of the roof. Unsatisfied and still reaching it tried to hook tendrils onto the sky.  

There was a bald spot of ground by the back door that was dead and smelled of piss.

Straight from dim indoors, his eyes squinty.  The bright was broken glass.  

Almost afternoon now, his morning was wasted.

Splat flat on the lawn, he listened.  Slim grass tongues licking his toes. Bright yellow dandelions smearing sunny paint onto his face.  

Wondering at the sound.

Sunlight stenciled prison bar shadows onto the dirt through the cracks in the boot-worn boardwalk. The noise came from somewhere under.  

He crawled closer.  

Many indignant insects in his face.  Buzzing and clicking and skittish.

He could see movement like the swirling grey on black when he closed his eyes at bedtime.  Something moving in the underhouse.

                                                               *

A stray thought to be turned and examined like something found. Could he make the same sound?  

He had a talent for it.  For mimic. He could give the three-bell ‘all’s well’ signal to the rosellas.  Match the laconic caw of the greasy black crows.  

Maybe this was another he could do.  A new one.

He drew his lips across his teeth and squashed his tongue.  It was a kind of squeaky-yowling he made in the back of his throat.  It was “Yew, Yew…”

Wrong.

Close, but not the same.  

He shushed. Listened.  

No noise. No movement.  No swirling grey, just black.

He pressed his fingers hard into the corners of his eyes.  Scrubbed at his eyeballs, a trick to bring the sparkling fairy goldies.  Friendly twinkling lights, sometime companions that came when he stood up too fast or sat too long on the toilet.  

They didn’t appear.

A cloud blotched the sun, shat dim light over all.  

He waited for it to fly by in the sky.

Frogs gronked down by the creek.  Blowflies farted and zoomed. Cicadas tore strips off the air.  

His heart thudded.  Distant marching soldiers, louder the longer the cloud lingered.  

He tried again.  “Eew, Eww…”  

It was closer.  Almost there.

He worked the sound around.  Chewed on the shape of it.

                                                               *

“Ehew. Ehew…”  He had it.  Spot on like a lyre bird, or near as.  

Again. “Ehew. Ehew…”  

He waited.

Nothing. Just screaming insects because it was so hot.  

He drifted for a while under the warm and blue.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm...  The afternoon hummed.

                                                               *

“Ehew. Ehew…”  

Piercing, the noise stabbed the still.  

He was swimming, swimming in the creek with the platyp-.

“Ehew. Ehew…”  

Awake now and aware.  Under the ferns, with a crook neck and itchy mosquito bites.  

He responded.  

“Ehew. Ehew.”  

Two blue eyes peeked out at him through the gap in the boards.  He saw them and they saw him.

“Ehew, Ehew…”  

It wanted something.  He wasn’t afraid though.  It was something good.

“Ehew, Ehew…”  He spoke to it.  

“Ehew, Ehew…”  It answered.  

This was great.

It was joined by another.  Then another.

They too said “Ehew, Ehew…”  

“The bloody heck?”

Grey on black swirling.  Blue eyes peering at him through the cracks.  

“Ehew, Ehew…” he said.  

“Ehew, Ehew…” the underhouse things said, then ventured out into the day.

                                                               2.

Raggedy kittens, as many as the fingers on his hand.  They blinked flinty eyes.  Tried to focus on everything at once, swaying their little heads.  

Grey tabbies with stripes like tiny tigers, crooked tails hoisted.

Impossibly cute.  

Fragile magic, delicate and exposed.

The boy grinned from happy.  “Ehew, Ehew…” he said.

                                                               *

They looked at him in unison.  It was funny. Then they looked at each other.  

They were wary of the stranger who spoke kitten.  

He was like nothing they knew.    

Tempted to flee, follow instinct and scatter, run, hide.  

He made his new sound, rising like a plea.  “Ehew?”  

The kittens stared at him, afraid to move and afraid to come closer.

                                                               *

He could wait.  

He would wait.

He could smell the sweet grass, the moist earth slightly cloying.  

He thought about all the things that lived and grew and died there.  

Slugs, seeds, caterpillars, weeds.  

Harlequin beetles, grasshoppers and lizards.  

Butterflies, stick-insects, bugs, lots of different bugs.  

Bugs in your face, bugs in your eyes, eat a horse manure pie.  

Too many things to count.

                                                               *

A cold shock dabbed briefly his hand.  Silk brushed past his elbow like a whisper.  

He lay still as a dead rabbit.  

A wet kiss in his ear, startling.

The kittens were there, soft and suddenly all around.  Jumping, climbing, scrambling over him. Scratchy claws catching in his t-shirt. Paws poking into his back, trotting down his spine. Whiskers swiping his nose and tickling his legs.  

An adorable patchwork menagerie, stuffed toys come wonderfully to life.

“Ehew, Ehew, Ehew, Ehew, Ehew, Ehew, Ehew…”

                                                               3.

A head picture flickered, took form, played like a movie.  He was the hero, the star, an idea that literally moved him.  

Carefully so as not to alarm, he sat up.

The kittens looked up at him wide-eyed.  

He slowly stood.  They were unsure, but still squirming on the grass.  

Then he moved quickly.  He didn’t look back lest the magic vanish.

                                                               *

The shed was peeling weatherboards on an exposed wood frame and a dark mouth yawning.  

Shabby white sheets nailed to an elephant’s skeleton full of spiders.

Hanging waving cobwebs and the strong smell of rats.

Moldering piles of junk almost to the roof and sprawling across the crammed gravel floor. Stuff and more stuff.

There were lead pipes and a bicycle pump.  

Gamey horse blankets, horse ropes and leather bridles, horse medicines, horse shoes, horse stuff.  

A metal bucket, a selection of birds nests and a big tractor tyre.  

An untouched packet of ratsac and a half-full bag of super-phosphate.  

A butcher’s knife, a fishing pole, a kerosene lantern.  

A bunch of thick maroon books, pages slowly fleeing their bindings.  

A stringless tennis racket, a box of nails, a mangy or moth-eaten fox’s tail.  

A bunch of empty plastic bags, brittle and disintegrating.

                                                              *

It was resting on its side close to the back of one of the smaller piles.  

Woven by some deft hand, the cane basket Mum used to haul fruit up from the orchard.

Peaches, pears, apricots, apples.  Whatever the coddling moth or possums hadn’t got to first.  He was pleased; it would be ideal.  

He grasped the handle and hoisted.  

It felt good in his hand and smelled faintly of lemons.  

It was dusty so he wiped the inside of it with his shirt.  Now he was dusty too.  

That shirt would be big trouble later with Mum.

Sunlight fingers felt through the cracks in the shed wall.  Motes swished in the shards, swirled, slowly fell.

                                                               *

The flattened patch of grass by the veranda was empty when he returned.  

He sat and called to the kittens.  “Ehew, Ehew…” he said.  “Ehew, Ehew?” he asked.  There was nothing.  

“Ehew, Ehew…” he said louder.  “Ehew, Ehew?” he asked louder.  

The emptiness ached a bit, so did his stomach.

He called until at last they answered, little mouths opening to show little pink tongues.

Little inquisitive faces poking out from the gloom.

                                                               4.

“Ehew, Ehew…”  Up from inside the basket, a swinging pendulum from the crook of his fingers.  Rock-a-bye-babies, his responsibility now.

Panicked blue eyes, they couldn’t get out.

He couldn’t see Mum.  That didn’t mean she wasn’t watching, but he didn’t think so.

There was no yell to “Get here right now.”

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but she wouldn’t understand.  

She would take the kittens away.  Hurt them, kill them.  

Ferals.

This was no place.

He carried the basket like a secret up the garden path.

Grey concrete pavers, fragrant roses along the way.  

At the end a wrought iron gate, ornate but exhausted.  Old paint flaked off like dandruff.  

Its hinges complained bitterly when he shoved through with his hip and into the back paddock.  

It was ill, he should show more respect.

                                                               *

He wasn’t supposed to be in the back paddock, there were bulls.  

He couldn’t see any but Mum said so.  He’d never seen any but the fear was there all the same.  

Bulls were all big horns and snorting fury.  

A lone crow wheeled above and decided on the bony remnants of a gum.  

Brooding and dreadful it sat in judgement.  Then with a flap and dismissive “Waark…” it was gone.

A cockatoo shrieked and for a second he thought it was Mum.  

No, not her.

Just a bird.

The sun baked the side of the hill.  The air wavered in the heat.

Thump, thump, thump.

His feet determined thumps in front.  

Over short crunchy stubble, summer-scorched pasture parched and beaten.  Mainly kikuyu, some dock here and there.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The kittens weeped, their eyes pleaded.  

He made the sound to them.  “Mhew…”  It didn’t help.  

                                                               *

Reaching the base of the hill, he approached with caution a crowd of scotch thistles, most standing taller than him.  

They were menacing, alien things.  Huddled in groups, dire needles sharp and glinting.  

Vibrant purple crew cuts sprouting from faceless heads held together in nodding conference, watching, whispering.

He picked his way through, feeling an occasional quick sting to his legs.  They tried to grab the basket but he wouldn’t let them.

He was relieved when they thinned out and he spotted the creek fence, bedraggled posts struggling to stay upright under the constant duress of standing.  Two strands of barbed wire hung red-brown and speckled with bird shit, drooping like a low clothes line.

                                                               *

He stooped and lifted the top wire, careful of his fingers, careful of the tet-nus.  

Tet-nus meant big needles in his belly Mum said.  Doctor’s needles, bigger and sharper than even thistles.  

The kittens begged him to stop.

He squatted through into the rudely lush foliage edging the blasted paddock.

It was a riot of green.  

Patches of clover, milkweed and waving bracken.

Long grass probably full of snakes.  

Bunches of turnip gone wild, a hang-over from earlier days when the farm was still being properly worked.  

Sweet yellow wattle.  Ragwort, also yellow but sour.  

Clumps of slicing razor tussock, innocuous enough but with hidden bastard blades.  

He couldn’t see the water, but he could smell it.

The only way down was a steep narrow cow-track scar worn into the slope by generations of hooves.  He used his free hand to grasp tufts of whatever; anything to steady.  

He dug in his heels and slipped straight onto his arse, still holding the basket but quickly sliding out of control.  

A jarring stop at the bottom and he saw the goldies at last.  

It felt wet where he was sitting.  The kittens were frantic, spitting and trying to climb out.

“Ehew, Ehew…” he said to them.  

“We’re here now.  Calm down. Don’t cry.”

                                                               *

He stood on the edge of the squishy bank and dipped his toes just into the water.

The intrusion stirred the silt.  

Brown clouds drifted.  

He stepped in up to his ankles.  

Brown clouds billowed.  

The basket was heavier now than when he’d left the yard. The handle seemed to strain in his hand just from the sheer weight.  

Paddling water-clocks tilled the surface and left expanding Vs in their wake.

They paused occasionally to make the crazy ticking circles that gave them their name.

Weeping willows trailed golden strands from above, languid in the drowsy breeze.  Tangled limbs embraced, rubbing and knocking, their gnarled bark skins as tough as tonka.

Friendly guardians of the creek, his favourite trees by far.  Tall and stooped like Grandad, nicer even than oaks or poplars.

He would sometimes swing on them with a big handfull of their hair, out over the water, feet kicking, before returning safely to shore. Sending haphazard leaves spiralling down. Miniature yellow gondolas that settled to drift untethered, race trills and currents, or float helplessly caught on some piece of jetsam.  

The sky, blue like no other colour, reflected up at him from the water.  

It was a mirror.  In it he looked small and weak.  

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair.  

He looked at the wriggling kittens.  They were small and weak too.  

It was easy to get lost watching the water.  

Time flowed gently down the stream.  The creek was beautiful, but not to be trusted.

There were deep holes with snags where kids could drown.  

Slippery black eels hungrily patrolling the depths, bellies white and fleshy.  

Crayfish with snipping claws and beady eyes on stalks in hollow-log lairs, scuttling under shelves of wormy willow roots or flipping their tails and shooting backwards through the murk.  

Mesmerising sounds, hypnotic ripples, boggy traps of sucking quickmud, dangerous crossings…

Once in winter he had seen a platypus playing.  

The water was brown and fast, right up the sides of the creek and spilling over.  

Mum told him falling in meant dead as dead so to stay away.  

The platypus was rolling on its back, bobbing and diving, having fun in the speeding flood.  

Dead was dead though, so he’d just watched until eventually it bobbed under and didn’t come back up.

                                                            5.

The bridge to the island was a half submerged root, like a pale wet bone reaching.

The island itself no more than a bump.

Two slow roads flecked with whitish foam flowed around.  

Cress and water-weeds fringed the shore.  Baby gudgeons bulleted, flashed, sucked at the waving strands.  

Fishbone ferns gave an impression of solidity, alongside blanched drifts of disintegrating leaves.  

Piles of wattle baubles - no longer golden but gritty soaked orange.

                                                               *

He tried not to think and just did.  

He walked the root.

He jumped at the end, planted his feet and landed with a splotch.  

He stepped forward. He hadn’t fallen in.  

Tawny water seeped shallowly into his left-behind footprints.

                                                               *

At last they had arrived.  Kitten Island.  

A place away from all the bad things in the world.  

A place he could visit any time he wanted.  

A place where he could watch them grow, his beautiful secrets.

Tenderly he tipped the kittens out of the basket.  They toddled onto the ground, lost and frightened.  They were not where they thought they belonged.

He was sure they were wrong though.  

They would be happy here, safe and privileged and private.

                                                               *

The way back was easier without the weight of the kittens in the basket.

It felt so much lighter.  

He felt so much lighter.

                                                      Epilogue.

After a sweaty night he wakes still tired.  

Rags of lucid dreams.  Something about his stuffed toys attacking him, circling with bared teeth.

Then he remembers the kittens and leaps from the bed.

                                                               *

A hurried bowl of coco-pops and a disapproving scowl from Mum.  

He smiles and tells her he’s going outside to play.  

“Alright,” she says. “But stay in the yard.”

He steps off the veranda into a scalding wind.  

No noise from the underhouse.

The insects scream about the heat.  He doesn’t care, lets them scream.  

He feels a sort of thrumming anticipation, the twitching tug of a line running to his guts and pulling at his insides.  

How happy they will be to see him.  

They’ll purr and rub his bare legs with their chins.

Little darlings.

A blowfly buzzes by.  Fat and slow, patrolling for a feed or somewhere to lay its eggs.  

It diverts to the plum tree, attracted by the soggy bombs that sticky the ground dark red with juice.  

He avoids going over there this time of year.  Hates the disgusting feel of the plums under his his bare feet.  Imagines walking across a field of bloody eyeballs.

Spring is better.  Petals cover the ground in pink snow.

He makes his way up the path and through the gate.  It’s still sick and lets him know.

                                                               *

Mum is wrong, the back paddock has no bulls.  

He isn’t afraid.  He’s yelping and rushing forward, his feet quick thumps in front.  

Thump, thump, thump.

Whacking the thistles with a picked-up stick, laughing.

Through the fence, the green curtain, sliding down the slope easily.  

His heart drums fast-marching soldiers.  The blood sings sugar in his ears.  

Nothing could be better.

The creek is a shiny silver worm, a dark mirror over which iridescent dragonflies skim and linger.  

The weeping willows groan and sway in the hot gusts, tossing leaves to the cool water below.

He looks to the island and his smile sinks like a clod thrown into a dam.  

It sinks like Mum’s smile when he’s again broken something.

“Ehew, Ehew..?” he asks.

Kitten Island is empty.  

The kittens are gone.