#how the hell does just putting on a costume make me emotional GOD THIS SHOW

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Haunted House

modern!aemond x reader

A/N: i love this kinktober/halloween request so i hope i did it justice! pls send in more halloween themed requests!!

TW: smut, throatfucking, choking, orgasm denial, mask kink, knife kink

wordcount: 1,376 words

“Hey, um Y/N?” Aemond stumbles a bit as he tries to catch up with you.

You turn around with a smile on your face. “Hey, Aemy.” You say sweetly. He knows his brothers would tease him endlessly if they heard the nickname but it just sounds so perfect falling from your lips.

“I was wondering if you had plans this weekend? I’m working at the Blood Red Keep event in the haunted house and thought you might like to come out and see it?” He asks, a little nervously.

“Yeah that sounds like fun! I’ll see you Friday then?” 

“Y-Yeah, Friday.” You give him another big smile before making your way to your next class.

Aemond blushes as you walk away, watching your ass sway under your short little skirt.

~~~

On Friday, Aemond stands in his costume, ghostface. His fellow actors dressed as other famous horror movie killers as well, ready to jump out at anyone wandering through the haunted house. He knows the moment you step inside because he has Joffrey at the door, waiting to inform him of your arrival. He has a bouquet of dead roses waiting for you in a vase for after he scares you. He also gave his coworkers a request to not let anyone come in behind you for an extra few minutes. What he didn’t plan on was you walking through the doorway with a date.

His blood boils when you walk into his scare room on the arm of Cregan fucking Stark. Aemond loses control of his emotions and he picks up the vase, hurtling it across the room so it shatters against the wall in front of you. You and your date both jump.

“Seven Hells, they did a good job with this house.” Cregan murmurs, still slightly frazzled.

“I feel like it almost actually hit us.” You say and Aemond hates the way you seem to cling to Cregan even more now

“Yeah, let's go to the next room.” Cregan takes you by the hand and begins to lead you away. Ghostface steps in front of you, brandishing a long, ornate dagger. “Uh maybe back the way we came?” He pushes you in front of him as you both walk fairly swiftly to the only other exit. 

Aemond grabs Cregan by the back of his collar and holds the dagger to his throat. “Wrong way, Stark.”

“Gods, that’s actually sharp.” Cregan gulps but still obviously thinks it’s for show. Aemond pushes him to the first exit he blocked and you try to follow but he puts an arm in front of you.

“Not you, princess.” He says darkly.

“Cregan?” You call out. Oh how Aemond hates the way you call out for that mutt when you’re scared.

“I’m sure it’s just a fun part of the experience. Go with it.” He grins and you nod so you let Aemond take you up the stairs.

“I thought we weren’t allowed upstairs.” The blade becomes pressed to your throat.

Cregan was right, that does feel sharp. You think to yourself.

You get shoved in a bedroom and ghostface locks the door. It doesn’t look like the rest of the haunted house.

“C-Can I just go back to the normal part of the house? I don’t need any extra experience.” You say frightenedly. 

“You know, when I invited you here, I didn’t expect the plus one.” Ghostface says.

“Aemond?” You sigh out in relief. “Gods, you really had me getting nervous there.”

“What’d you bring him here for?” He asks harshly, the voice changer still on.

“What?” You feel a bit nervous again.

“You’re here for me, not Stark.” He steps towards you. You step back.

“Can you take the mask off, Aemond. It’s kind of freaking me out.” You say softly as you step back again, hitting the wall.

“Were you trying to make me jealous, hmm?” He puts a finger to your chin.

“N-No.” You whimper.

“I had this whole night planned out. I got roses, was gonna ask you out. Thought you’d like the cute sentiment but that’s not actually what you want, is it? You don’t really want to be treated like a princess.” He’s so so close to you now.

“Aemy, i’m sorry. I-I didn’t know…” You trail off when his hand wraps around your throat. 

“If you’re so sorry then get on your fucking knees and prove it.” You feel awestruck by the words. Aemond has never been anything less than a gentleman to you. You can hardly believe he’d speak to you in such a manner. “Now.” You’re shaken out of your daze by the command and drop to your knees. You look up at him, still shocked and confused as he tosses the cloak and begins to unbuckle his belt. “Good girl.” He says almost tenderly before he releases his hard, long cock from the confines of his jeans. “Now suck.”

“But-” You’re cut off again.

“Girls who act like sluts get treated like them. Now suck my cock or go back downstairs and continue your silly little date.” It isn’t even a thought for you before you take him in your mouth, not easing into it at all. “Seven Hells, I went through all that trouble treating you like you walk on water when all you actually wanted was a nice, big cock down your throat.” He smirks down at you. His mean words almost make tears spring to your eyes but that doesn’t seem to bother him.

You gag around him as he takes away your control and begins to thrust into your mouth, grabbing the back of your head to keep you firmly in place.

“You’re just a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” He teases cruelly as he fucks your throat. “I could almost cum right now, but I think i’d rather do that inside you.” He pulls you back up by the hair and shoves you against the wall so your chest is up flush against it.

“Mmm, Aemond.” You whimper out as he hikes your skirt up to your waist.

“Be quiet, slut.” He says, sliding your panties to the side, proud of how wet they are. 

He plunges himself into you, sheathing himself fully inside. His hand comes back to your throat and he squeezes gently.

“Gods, you’re so tight.” You try not to whine at how harshly he begins to thrust in and out of you. You never knew somebody would be able to hit so deep. “I bet that stupid mutt could never fuck you like this.” He says cockily as his hips slam against yours.

“Never…” You murmur out, hands pressed against the wall as he squeezes around your neck a little tighter.

Aemond keeps fucking you hard and you don’t know if that or the choking is making you more lightheaded. He gives your pearl a little rub and you get closer and closer to your peak. Though, he finishes first, pulling out to cum on your thighs and you’re surprised that he didn’t fuck you through it. You expect to feel his fingers back on your pearl but you never do. He just zips his trousers back up and begins to straighten you up.

“Did you truly think i’d let you finish after you acted like such a brat?” You hear his real voice now as he takes off the mask. You blush when you turn and get to properly see him.

“Well I… I thought.” You don’t know what you thought.

“I’m going to go pull my car around. If you’re a good girl for the rest of the night, i’ll eat you out nice and easy back at my place, okay?” He says and you can’t comprehend how he sounds so casual about it. You nod in response. “Wonderful. Now, go stumble back downstairs and tell Stark that the date is over. If I ever see his hands on you again, i’ll break his jaw.”

“O-Okay.” You say timidly, a dumb expression on your face.

“Good, i’ll see you in five, baby.” He then presses a little kiss to your lips and slips out the door, leaving you desperate as you try to figure out what in the Seven Hells you’re going to say to Cregan.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

[cuntylestat]

heyy do you have a loustat fic rec list? would you mind sharing some faves?

yes of course! i haven't delved deeply into everything so i'm sure there's more out there, but i really like these. they're a mix of show fic (starred) and book fic.

begin again In which Louis and Lestat clobber each other with their respective baggage, argue in various locales, and make their own happy ending.

and back to the river* Fucking hell, Louis thinks.

the long way home Louis has a secret, something he’s never told anyone since childhood. Lestat has just moved into Pointe du Lac when Louis receives a mysterious letter. And now he’s on the brink of losing it all. Set after Louis’ turning when he and Lestat are living at Pointe du Lac, canon divergent.

go fetch god* He falls in love with a man. He loved the man because he answered a prayer Louis had been sketching in the dark, on his knees, hands down his pants that he couldn’t look at for fear of loving. Dying too, but mostly loving. They don’t go calling love fool’s gold for nothing. The very apple of Eden had a sheen to it.

objects of devotion 1999. After months on the run from the Talamasca, Louis just wants to spend Christmas in New Orleans with Lestat. Will either of them ever manage to say what they actually mean? Featuring religious imagery and a trip to Montgomery Ward.

tinderbox (or: a history of fire in colonial new orleans) [wip] 1794. Pointe du Lac lies in ashes. Lestat, desperate to keep Louis with him at any cost, tries something he's never tried before: he talks.

the devil's in the details Claudia is never turned into a vampire. Instead, Lestat and Louis end up raising a human child. A study on age and family life.

the souvenir 1908. Louis and Armand are traveling through Europe. Louis seduces a young man who reminds him of Lestat.

fear death by water (what the thunder said)* Louis puts down the knife. Claudia leaves the nest. Lestat endures.

dress up Seven scenes across canon. Costumes: what they hide and what they don't.

all our yesterdays New Orleans, 1985. Lestat, struggling with change, comes home to Louis and an unexpected gift.

the house of atreus [wip] In the summer of 1860, Claudia raises her knife to kill Lestat. This time, Louis makes a different choice.

reading between the lines “Yes?” Lestat interrupts, savoring the noise of frustration Louis lets out. “Would you have me promise to spend eternity by your side? Is that what you want?” Louis looks away sharply, but Lestat won’t have that—he grabs Louis’s jaw and turns his face, dragging those pretty eyes back to meet Lestat’s gaze. “Is it a horrible thing to want?” Louis whispers. “Don’t you want it?”

there's vertigo in my soul at your name* Louis, in all his self loathing, convinces himself that the bite never happened. It's all a nightmare but the real nightmare is the life he wakes to and just how much he hates himself. AU from season 1 episode 1, when Louis and Miss Lily leave Lestat's home.

these devils of yours, they need love too* “Kill her,” Louis demands as his furious eyes burn into Lestat’s. He wants to melt those eyes and the look of them, to turn them into nothing but a memory to be forgotten. “Do it. Prove to me how much you love me, Lestat." Louis finally does what he's wanted to for years: He asks Lestat to kill Antoinette.

on brûlera toutes les deux en enfer, mon ange* In that exact moment Lestat's expression shifted. He stopped, narrowed eyes scanning Claudia's face, then running up and down her body. 'They dared…' Lestat's voice changed as well. Instead of the mocking tone from before it was cold with fury. So cold that Louis could actually feel the temperature in the room dropping. 'They dared to hurt what's mine.'

the visit* Lestat’s mother drops in for an unexpected visit to Rue Royale. This leads to all kinds of new emotions in the Du Lac-Lioncourt household. A coming of age tale from Claudia’s perspective featuring the one and only Gabrielle de Lioncourt.

retour à vous Although he’d overseen its restoration over the past few months, it still shocks him each time he sees the New Orleans apartment again. It truly looks like their old home — the environment of their happiest days together recreated with all of the modern comfort of the present era. What truly makes him stop in his tracks each time, however, is the feeling that for the first time since Claudia twisted the knife in his heart, this place they so long called home is free of ghosts. Besides, no lover of his will live in some rundown Garden District house overflowing with vines and insects. Lestat loves the Queen’s Wreath and bougainvillea as much as the next man, but he won’t have Louis continuing to dwell in that dark little place. No, it’s time that they had a home again. A home together.

parce que c'était lui, parce que c'était moi* “So,” Daniel says, huffed on an exhale, and the book makes a telltale thump as it's placed on the nearby coffee table. “You finished burning the body. Then what?” Then what? Then we left, he wants to say. We took our bags and we walked out of that courtyard and we boarded the train and then the steam liner. We left that city, that life, behind to seek freedom and answers across the Atlantic. We didn’t look back, he wants to say. He does not say it.

i clutched your arms like stairway railings, and you clutched my brain and eased my ailing* Lestat and Louis in December 2022, working through their many problems one day at a time, while trying to enjoy life, and love, together.

[hayden-christensen]

I didn’t think I’d get the opportunity to put it back on again. So, this is a pretty neat thing, you know, all these years later.

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN Costume fittings for Attack of the Clones (2002) and Obi-Wan Kenobi (2022) | Obi-Wan Kenobi: A Jedi’s Return

[mxonigirimiya]

Some Bunny Loves You

Happy Easter my dears!

Character: Mirko

Gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Wc:628

Tags: reader is called wife and wearing a dress, but no other gender specifiers are used.

Written in a haze of very gay emotions

"Does it really have to be me? Feels corny." Mirko rolled her eyes while Hawks tried not to laugh. The commissioner's office felt cold, the wooden desk in front of her in perfect condition.

"You haven't done any community service Mirko." The commissioner was blunt with her words.

"Because my community service is kicking villain ass."

"Yeah well that isn't the only form."

"But the Easter Bunny? It feels like you guys are just being lazy."

"But it literally only means I change my costume. Hawks was Santa! Santa doesn't have wings."

"Would you rather me be Cupid?" Hawks turned to his side to face her with an eyebrow raised. 

"Actually, yes."

"And what community service could I do on Valentine's Day?"

"Help pets in rescues get adopted, because 'puppy love', give cards to hospital workers or people in nursing homes, planting a bunch of flowers in community gardens are just a few ideas."

"Well, what if I had a date?"

"You, having a date? I doubt it. Plus if someone is mad that you're not able to go on a valentine's day date because of community service, how are they gonna react when you have to leave because of a crisis?"

"Fair point." 

"We have an incentive for you." 

"And what would that be? Because it'd better be one hell of an incentive."

"That'd be me." You walked in with a flowing white and pink dress and a bow tie, although the first thing Mirko noticed was the pristine white bunny ears on your hair. The band was hidden in your hair so it looked like it was naturally yours. Mirko ran to you and lifted you up, spinning you around.

"I thought you'd be gone longer!"

"Yeah, well things got solved quickly and they roped me in to help."

"Thank God. I would feel so dumb wearing a Easter Bunny thing by myself. I would have done the community service at another time."

"Well, let's get you ready." Mirko took the costume hung on the doorknob and went to change, you quickly going after her.

"I can't believe they used my wife against me."

"You know you can't resist me." She stopped to turn around and pulled you into her chest.

"How could I when you look so good all the time?"

"Well, if you behave today, I'll show you a surprise I have for you when we get home." 

"Oh yeah?" Her face moved closer to yours, her pupils dilating.

"I think you'd like it a lot."

"You sound real confident Bunny."

"Of course. I know how to please my wife."

"You certainly do." She kissed you harshly, your lips moulding together before she put her forehead against yours. "Can't wait to see it."

"You won't be disappointed." How could she, when you have a bunny tail and a cute leather collar with a leash on it at home, waiting on the bed for the both of you to come home? You pulled away from her and made your way to the single stall bathroom, and she stared at your retreating figure, thinking only "Oh, she's so gonna get it when we get home" before following you to the bathroom. After all, she had to make up for the last week you were gone on a mission. Clearly you forgot how to behave while you were gone with all the lewd images you sent while she was on duty. But most importantly, she has to show you how much she missed you, because there was no way to put it into words. And if she can't use her words, she lets her actions to ALL of the talking for her. Besides, she didn't really plan on you two doing a lot of talking tonight anyway. 

[miraculous-trinity-leo]

Whacky Gotham, Goofy New York, and Chaotic Paris.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Chapter 5: Then Let The Games Begin

•—–—–·†·–—–—•

Soooo, the Batfam is panicking, Gotham's confused as to why Iron Man is flying over Gotham like a madman, and Maria is with two of Gotham's Sirens (but only Ivy and Harley know this) having a wonderful time playing with Bud and Lou.

Let's start with the Sirens.

Harley is watching over Maria and Tikki as they sleep with Bud and Lou, Ivy walkes over to sit next to Harley, handing her a cup of tea.

"So, what's the diagnosis?" - Ivy

"She has some sort of trauma, has class issues... and handles more than she should, but still does everythin', on top of bein' a hero. She's been through some sh-t Pam." Yeah Harley may have found out Maria's a hero (if the tiny god and magic were anything to go by).

"Is she alone?" - Ivy

"No, thankfully, she has supportive parents, and friends that aren't little sh-ts. I think they're also heroes, she also has a lot, and I a mean A LOT of pent up emotions, she doesn't show anythin' negative, only positive things. She seems to shrink in on herself if she thinks she does somethin' wrong. Pam, we both know there's a limit to how much crap a person can take before they snap, and she's such a sweet kid. There has to be somethin' we can do to help her Ives." Ok she found out alot, but in Marias' defense, they have trustworthy souls, and they were the only other people (besides her friends) that she talked to about it, yes she had her Maman and Uncle to talk about hero stuff, but for the stuff her class does, she only ever vented (without being negative) to her friends.

"Her class is visiting the Botanical Gardens in three days, and it's a 2 part tour, so we can see just what's going on. If it's bad then we scare them a bit, if it's bad bad... they can handle a few slightly poisonous plants right?" - Ivy

"God I love the way ya think Ives, do ya think she can stay with us? I mean look at how cute she is with Bud and Lou... Oh my god, she's cuddlin' dem, and ya gave her a flower crown, how'd I miss that?! Where's the camera?"

Harley took a picture to remind her of this wonderful moment. As Ivy and Harley looked at the picture, they both promised to keep Maria safe, and maybe become sorta kinda-ish parents to her while she's in Gotham.

•—–·Now back to the Bat-Chaos Bat-Cave·–—•

Tim took over the chair and was now searching the possible locations with Jarvis, Damian was sitting on a different chair, trying to act cool, but he wouldn't stop looking over at Tim, to see his progress. Bruce was talking over the comms with Tony. Dick and Jason, weren't helping (they kept feeding each other worse and worse ideas of what could have happened to Maria). Then they heard Jarvis speak.

"I have found the most likely area Ms. Dupain-Cheng would be in. Her phone died about 56 blocks away from her hotel, if we don't count kidnapping, or murder, she would have thought about asking for directions, but may have decided not to considering the city she is in. So that leaves us with a possible 15-25 mile radius from her last known location. I think it best to divide into groups of two, have Oracle stay and update you if anything on security, and or traffic cameras happens. Bruce will be with Tony, Dick will go with Tim, and Jason will go with Damain to search within the area. Stephanie and Cassandra will search around a 5 mile radius near Wayne hotel." as Jarvis continued to explain the other details, the Batfam began to suit up, Batman met up with Iron Man, and they took the North area, Nightwing and Red Robin took the East area, while Red Hood and Robin searched the South. Steph and Cass were on foot in civilian clothes, searching the West area they were assigned.

They searched for the whole day, and came up with nothing. Until Oracle saw a video from a traffic cam around 9pm, 15 blocks away from where her phone died. She called it in and everyone went back to the cave. Once everyone was at the Bat-Computer, Oracle pressed play, the cameras didn't have sound, and it wasn't close enough to see if she was ok.

They watched as she went to an overgrown parking lot and sat down. She was looking down at the ground, and that's when they spotted two figures round the corner and spot her. They watched as the two figures approach Maria, and saw the startled reaction she had. They realized it was Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy that were talking to her, then they saw Maria collapse. They watched as Harley made sure she was ok, looking over to Ivy before looking back to Maria and picking her up. The last thing they saw, was Maria being carried away by two of Gothams' most dangerous rouges, but now they knew where to look next.

•—–· Back to Ivy and Harley ·–—•

Harley continued to take adorable pictures of the children.

"God, they're so f-ckin' cute!" - Harley for the 20th time

As Ivy continued to watch while caring for her plants, Catwoman walked in.

"Hey girls, got the stuff for movie night, so what are we- Holy mother of cats! He adopted another f-cking child didn't he! Where the hell does he keep finding them?! 7 was ment to be the god DAMN LIMIT!!!" - Catwoman

Maria jumped at the sudden shouting and may have accidentally summoned a yo-yo (one made useing creation magic and protection magic) before saying.

"Tikki where's the akuma?! How long was I out?! Forget it Tikki spot-" she then realized she wasn't in Paris, and seeing a new face, she also realized she just spilled her secret to another person within the same day... kinda

"Fffffffffffudge sunday that fell on the pavement!" - Maria shouted in baker profanities

"That's not how ya curse sweetheart. It should go more like-" Harley was cut off by a vine Ivy had summoned.

"Harley, cursing makes the plants sad, you know this." - Ivy said removing the vine

Harley just walked over to Maria and whipsered it in her ear.

"You're supposed to say it more like this, ' ..... .... ... .. ....... .. ... .....' ok?" - Harley ended with a big smile

"... I will never see this world in the same frickin' light ever again." - Maria

"ehh close enough." - Harley

"Can someone please tell me, WTH is going on here, on our special girls day off?!" - Catwoman

"She is a new member of the Sirens as of today, and as a member, she's unda our protection, so effective immediately." - Harley

"Cool." - Maria

"Harley." - Ivy

"Wut... first things first, if she is going to join, she needs to be very flexible, know how to fight, and be incredibly intelligent." - Catwoman

"She beat Ed's @ss with a gun pointed at her, and solved every riddle with ease, so I'm positive she'll be an amazin' addition to the team." - Harley

'God she sounds like a new mother now' "But we don't know how good her flexibility is." - Catwoman

"I know, hey Maria, ya wanna do some tricks with me, of course we need to stretch first, but do ya wanna give it a go?" - Harley

"Sure." - Maria

Ivy and Catwoman sat down on a couch a few feet away from where Maria and Harley stood in the empty part of the building. They started out with stretches, and to Catwoman's surprise (and Harley's delight) Maria copied Harleys streches perfectly.

"Ok, now that that's done, we'll start with some cartwheels, then move on to flips, then handsprings and so on." - Harley

Maria gave Harley a nod... and they were off... literally, Harley did a cartwheel into a handspring, and a few backflips, Maria executed it flawlessly. Harley did some more complicated gymnastics tricks, and Maria did it, Harley did triple backflips going into a cartwheel, into a summersault, and Maria did that perfectly as well. This went on until both Harley and Maria were slightly out of breath, both having massive smiles on their faces.

"Ives, please let her join, she's like a mini me." - Harley then hugged Maria and they somehow both tripled in cuteness as they both did puppy (or Puss In Boots style) eyes at Catwoman and Ivy.

"Sure Harley." - Ivy said walking over to give Harley a small kiss on the cheek.

"Okay... but she doesn't have a costume yet, and she still has to think of a name for herself." - Catwoman

"Is a mouse good, like a mouse themed costume, that or a Turtle themed one. What do you think Harley?" - Maria

"Mmmm, I like that with the mouse you can always toy with Cat, ya know, cat an' mouse stuff, turtle seems... weird even fawh Gotham, so personally I would pick mouse, just because of the cheesy jokes you could do." - Harley

"Very funny, ok then, give me a moment."  Maria then reached out her hand, her eyes then started to glow an icy blue, and a small portal opened in front of her, she reached in and pulled out a small pendant necklace. After she put it on a small mouce appeared and greated itself, Marias' eyes going back to normal after closing the portal.

"Hello I'm Mullo, nice to meet you all."

"Omg omg omg, It's soooo f-ckin' CUTE!" - Harley

"Best to assume all of them are extremely cute Harls." - Ivy

"What the Hell did I miss in the week I was gone?!" - Catwoman

"Ehh, not much, oh but Iron Man did fly aroun' Gotham a few times earlier this mornin' like a madman." - Harley

"Oh sh-t." - Maria

"Maria are ya ok? That was ya first official proper curse in my presence." Harley said looking over to the girl.

"He's gonna kill me." - Maria

"Wait, what do you mean Marigold?" - Ivy

"... He's my Uncle, and I never got to text him I was ok, since my phone died before I met you." - Maria

"Hey, I'm sure he'll understand, now what are we watchin'?" - Harley

"I think we have more important matters other than movies at the moment!" - Catwoman

"Ok, Me Myself and Irene it is." - Harley

"No! You basically kidnapped Iron Mans' NIECE!!!" - Catwoman

"Technically, she fainted and us bein' the good Gothamites we are, decided to take her with us, to make sure she was a-okay." - Harley

"I'm ganna need more than just a six pack of soda to get me through this... Just put the movie on already." - Catwoman

Catwoman sat at the far left end of the couch, next to her sat Ivy, then Maria, and then Harley, Bud and Lou by their feet. All of them sharing one big blanket (Becuase if Iron Man did show up, or any of the birds, then Maria was in a protective burrito and they may not see her right away) and they started the movie.

•—–·–—•

"Oh god, the poor cow." - Maria

.........

"Hahahaha, he stuck a whole f-ckin' chicken head in that guys @ss" - Harley

"The poor chicken." - Maria

"Maria you don't want to see this part." - Ivy then lightly covered her eyes for the ehem, chicken extraction.

.........

"Anyone up for another movie?" - Harley

"That depends." - Ivy

"Any suggestions Cat?" - Harley looked across to the other end of the couch to see Catwoman already sleeping.

"She took her cat-nap already? Seriously?" - Harley

"... What about Pirates of The Caribbean?" - Maria

"I'm good with that." - Ivy

And they started the next movie, Maria was happy, it felt like when her maman and papa would sleep with her when she made a pillow fort. It was a loving atmosphere, it felt safe, and nothing could ruin it. Marias' eyes became heavy, and she leaned her head on Harleys' shoulder, falling asleep after a few minutes.

Ivy paused the move looking over to see both Harley and Maria sleeping, soon Ivy also fell asleep in the comfortable silence.

…………………………

Around an hour later Maria woke up in a panic, she had a nightmare, and kept looking around frantically for someone with tears running down her face.

"What's the matter hun?" - Harley said looking around to see if someone had gotten in. When she looked back at Maria she saw that she was crying.

"What happened?" Harley asked in a kind voice that was filled with motherly love.

"I, just *hic* had a bad dream that's *hic* all, I'm fine." - Maira said trying to wipe the tears away.

"You're ok, I promise nothin's goin' to happen to ya as long as Ivy and I are here, ok hun?" - Harley hugged Maria, and she could feel the girl let out a few more sobs, and quick breathes.

"Thanks Maman." Maria didn't even realize what she had said, it just felt natural for her to say it.

"You're welcome hun." 'Omg I'm gonna cry, she called me maman!' Harley rubbed small circles over Marias' back, and began humming until she fell asleep, she continued to hug Maria until she also fell asleep.

•—–· Back to the Chaos Bat-Cave ·–—•

"What do you mean she's with two of Gotham City's Sirens?!" - Tony

"Tony, calm down, I'll call Selina, she can talk to them and get this all sorted out." - Bruce

"Your fiancee is a Gotham Siren too?! Why didn't you tell me?!" - Tony

"Why isn't she picking up? And unlike some people, this family doesn't like outing our secret identities... on live TV." - Bruce

"Oh well excuse me for not keeping my secret identity a SECRET!" - Tony

"I'll try calling her one more time." - Bruce

"Bruce, it's 3am. Who in their right mind ever stays up this late.... aside from this family." - Tim with a giant coffee mug in hand.

"... I'll just call her one more time." Bruce then connected it to the Bat-Computer so everyone could hear.

•—–· Back to the Sirens ·–—•

Catwoman's phone is ringing like crazy, waking everyone up, including a tired, annoyed, and confused Selina.

"Wth does he want at 3 in the morning?!" - Selina

"Just answer it so we can keep sleepin'." - Harley still hugging Maria

"I'm putting it on speaker, so you lot can testify against his @ss in court, for disturbing the peace."

•—–· Over to Batsy ·–—•

"Selina I need to ask-"

"WHAT THE F-CKING HELL DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ABOUT A GOOD NIGHTS REST!" - Selina

"Oooooh, she sounds pissed Bruce." - Jason

"I'm sorry to call you at this hour, but we need to find a girl that looks just like every single one of my other kids." - Bruce

"Bruce... I thought we agreed that 7 kids was. the. f-cking. limit." - Selina

•—–· Back to the Sirens ·–—•

Selina looked over to Maria before muting the speaker.

"Do you want them to know you're here Kitten?" - Selina

"... I'm tired, I haven't had coffee, I have no filter, so f-ck it, act like you never saw me today, and let them drown in chaos. " - Maria

"I think I like filter less Maria." - Harley

"Okay." Selina shrugged her shoulders and then un-muted her phone, putting it back on speaker mode.

"Where was she last seen?" - Selina

"She was last seen with Harley and Poison Ivy, I want you to see if she's still with them." - Bruce

Selina looked over to Maria and Harley, both of them shook their heads with mischievous grins.

"I've been with them all day, and I haven't once seen a girl that looks like your kids. Now can I go back to sleep, and forget this ever happened?" - Selina

"WHERE IS MY NIECE!!!" - Tony

"Oh, hey Tony, didn't know you were there, don't know who, or where your niece is, but good luck trying to find her. Oh and Bruce, I'm shutting my phone off so you don't keep calling till the butt crack of dawn. And congrats it's now 4am. you owe me a lunch date, uh-ba-bye." Selina then hung up her phone and turned it off.

"That went pretty well if you ask me, now I'm going back to sleep." - Selina

•—–· Back to Batsy ·–—•

The room was silent for a few minutes before Jason spoke up.

"Does that mean that Pixiepop ran away and is even more lost now?!" - Jason

"Oh god, what do we do, what if she got hurt?!" - Dick

"What if she got kidnapped?!" - Jason

"What if she's with a big time Gotham Villain?!" - Dick

"... What if she got more coffee?" - Tim

"Oh Hell No" - Jason/Dick

"... Lets all go to sleep, and when we wake up, we'll head over to their base and double check. She could've just said that because I called her at 3am." - Bruce

"But my niece is still out there!" - Tony

"You're going to sleep Tony." - Pepper then dragged Tony to his room.

•—–· Back to Maria ·–—•

Selina went to a different part of the building, where Maria assumed the bedrooms were. Ivy had gone to the greenhouse to be with the plants, and now it was just her and Harley left on the couch, and she couldn't sleep.

"... Harley?" - Maria

"Yeah hun?" - Harley

"I can't sleep." - Maria

"Well, watcha wanna do till ya get tired?" Harley asked sitting up a little straighter to get a better look at Maria.

Maria gave a sly smile, and looked Harley in the eyes "Want to go free-running on the rooftops?"

"... Alright, but lets get some coffee, and a snack in us first." - Harley gave her a side hug, before getting up to go make the coffee, and grab some snacks.

After they had their coffee, they climbed to the roof of the base. Harley was in her outfit, bat in hand and ready to do some bonding.

"So, how does ya outfit work?" - Harley

"Like so, ready Mullo?" - Maria

"Yes Maria" - Mullo

"Ok, Mullo, Get Squeaky!" A bright light flashes, and when Harley could see again, Maria was in a dark gray suit, wearing black knee high boots, with a strip of pink at the knee, and black elbow length gloves with the same pink strip at her elbow. Her mask was a slightly lighter gray on the top part, and pink on the bottom. Her hair was pulled into two buns with pink ribbons that faded to gray, and to black at the very tip. Her jump rope around her waist forming a tail going just below the back of her knees.

"Just when I think ya can't get any more adorable. So what should I call ya?" - Harley

"You can call me Multimouse." - Maria

Soon they were racing and doing tricks off different roofs, they were really enjoying themselves. From one of the roofs they heard a commotion in one of the alleys, when they looked down they saw a man holding a woman at gunpoint.

"Not good, seems like he's got issues, probably lost his lover, most likely has additions to drugs and alcohol, and seems to be a little tipsy." - Harley

"I've got a plan." - Multimouse

…………

Multimouse droped a little way behind the guy, grabbing his attention while Harley got the lady to safety.

"You know there's a help center two blocks from here that would be more than willing to help you." - Multimouse

The crook just raised his gun to her trying to keep it steady as he spoke.

"Give me all your money little girl, or else I'll hurt you."

"1. That's not how you hold a gun. 2. That is no way to treat any girl. and 3. Instead of money, I'll give you my jump rope." - Multimouse

"Why the hell would I want your jump rope, that thing looks worthless." the crook lowered his guard enough as Multimouse pretended to hand over her jump rope, only to use it in a quick motion to dismarm the man, as Harley promptly knocked him out with one swing.

"Lets neva have ya at gunpoint again, okay hun? I'm afraid my heart can't take it." - Harley said while tying the crook to a lamppost.

"Sorry, but it was the best idea I could come up with at the moment, besides, any guy with a gun would feel like they have the upper hand if they're facing a random little girl with a jump rope, rather than Gothams' Harley Quinn with a bat." - Multimouse

"Sadly I'm just too popular with the kiddos on the street." - Harley

…………

They continued to stop a few more muggers on the way back to the base, and when they got back they peaked around the corner to see the whole Batfam plus Iron Man talking with Ivy and Selina.

"How much you want to bet we can get back out before they see us?" - Whispering Multimouse

"... Lets try hidin' in the kitchen." - Whispering Harley

As they tried to sneak by (still in their costumes) Selina just walks over and draggs them to the group.

"Here, now let me sleep!" - Selina

"Dang it Selina we wanted tah see just how long we could hide out in the kitchen!" - Harley

Selina did a double take now realizing they both went out.

"... You didn't." - Selina

"We wanted tah go free-runnin'! So what?" - Harley

"She could've gotten hurt Harls." - Ivy

"My suits magic, I am invulnerable to bullets, normal magic, swords, knifes, anything staby staby, and I can withstand any temperature in it." Multimouse said with a slight pout.

"Hold up, is she a magical girl?" - Red Hood in the background

When Selina let go both Harley and Multimouse went behind Ivy for protection.

"We can still make a run for it." - Harley whispered to Multimouse

"... Ok, I'll meet you on the roof." - Whispering Multimouse

Harley gave a nod as she slowly inched her wasy closer to the door that lead to the roof, as she saw Iron Man approach Multimouse.

"Please get out of your suit, we need to talk about why you're here-" - Iron Man

"Multitute!" - Multimouse

Harley then saw Multimouse shrink into dozens of tiny little versions of herself as her clones spread out in all directions, one of which was heading right for her.

"Wth, you never told us she could use magic!" - Red Robin

Harley picked her up, and slipped through the door without anyone noticing.

"That was great, but how do ya get back tuh normal size?" - Harley

"Simple, I just merge back with my clones." As she said this, all her clones came back, and she merged with herself, becoming normal sized again.

"Where to?" - Multimouse

………… So now The Batfam is trying to find many long gone Mini-Multimouses, and Harley seems to have disappeared with her. Harley and Multimouse are now running over the roofs, heading for Wayne Manor.

"So why are we going to Wayne Manor?" - Multimouse

"Because, Batsy will neva think of lookin' for us at his own home, at least not fawh a little while." - Harley

When they arrived at the Manor, Multimouse de-transformed as Harley knocked on the door.

"Ms. Quinn, Ms. Maria, pleasure to see you here, please come in." - Alfred

"Are any of the bat-birds here?" - Harley

"Ms. Barbara, Ms. Stephanie, and Ms. Cassandra are the only ones here at the moment." - Alfred

"Do ya think you can keep us bein' here a secret from Batsy?" - Harley

"Harley? What are you doing here with Maria?" - Barbara

"It seems that Ms. Harley and Ms. Maria are now playing hide and seek with the rest of the family." - Alfred

"Did someone say hide and seek?" - Steph

"Yes, so could we maybe try and keep this a secret from everyone else, please?" - Maria

"Sure, it was starting to get boring around here. We can all hide in the living room no one ever use. Barbara you show them the way, I'll get the food/drinks and boardgames." - Steph

"Is this alright with you Alfred?" Maria

"It's all right Ms. Maria, you can hide out in the old living room." - Alfred

"Thanks Alfie, ya the best." - Harley

"Thank you Alfred." - Maria

"Ok then, follow me." - Barbara

…………

In the old living room, Harley, Maria, Barbara, Steph, and Cass began to formulate a plan.

"Ok, so the best way for them to never find you is to have your phone off, stay away from any and all cameras, and show your face to no one." - Steph

"So, do you have anything in mind that you might want to do?" - Barbara

"Can we put them on a wild goose chase?" - Maria

Cass nodded to Marias' suggestion approvingly.

"I can hack a few traffic cams to help with that." - Barbara

"We can also throw in some useless hints, to throw dem even further off our scent." - Harley

"Good idea Harley." - Barbara

"Thanks, but how long do ya think we should make it last?" - Harley

"As long as Maria wants it to." - Barbara

"Then let the games begin." - Maria.

•—–—–·†·–—–—•

Chapter 5 complete. Hope everyone is stayin' safe, Rockin' those Positive Vibes, and havin' an absolutely wonderful day. BUG-OUT 🐞💮🐞

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜Tag List〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

1st Place★: @animegirlweeb ☕ , 2nd Place★: @jumpingjoy82, 3rd Place★: @zalladane, 4th Place★: @jayjayspixiepop, 5th Place★: @arty-shadow-morningstar, 6th Place★: @smol-book-nerd, 7th Place★: @irontimetravelflower, 8th Place★: @fandom-trapped-03, 9th Place★: @meme991001, 10th Place★: @buginetye, 11th Place★: @blackroserelina, 12th Place★: @jessigurl-design, 13th Place★: @adrestar, 14th Place★: @moon5608, 15th Place★: @little-bluestar, 17th Place★: @myazael, 18th Place★: @our-preciousss, 19th Place★: @wolf2118, 20th Place★: @nyx-in-line, 21st Place★: @kking13, 22nd Place★: @lunerlover2024, 23rd Place★: @moonlightstar64, 24th Place★: @corporeal-terrestrial, 25th Place★: @kashlyn, 26th Place★: @tbehartoo, 27th Place★: @heart-charming, 28th Place★: @solangelo252, 29th Place★: @t1dwarrior-of-earth, 30th Place★: @lady-phoenix-of-tardis, @lupagrimm

[taki118]

Go Watch the Venture Brothers

So just heard the complete and utter Bullshit news that Adult Swim has cancelled one of (if not the best shows) they have the Venture Bros. This series is one of those shows that for WHATEVER reason never got to the level of fandom Rick and Morty has even though they’ve been at the genre parody game longer and in my opinion better. 

The series is about Rusty Venture former boy adventurer and failing super scientist who in an attempt to keep his head above water in debt goes around with his two boys Hank and Dean, and bodyguard Brock on misadventues while various legal archnemisis go after him, such as the Monarch. 

So if you never watched or never heard of this 7 season series let me give you a break down on why you should, 

1) Art Style & Animation

Venture bros is one of those rare Adult aimed animated series that that really truly tries to utilize their medium to the best of their abilities. Season 1 had like such a small budget and corners had to be cut so it can be a little hard to watch at times. 

But with each passing season they get a little better, a little more fluid, go just a little harder and it truly feels rewarding to watch. Like seeing an artist you follow online improve over the years. Like they COULD have stayed with the choppy and stiff animation from season 1 it fit right in with its fellow adult animated shows but it didn’t. They strove for quality to have something that matched the story they were telling.

2) The Writing 

Venture Bros has some of the tightest and consistently great writing of ANY serialized show I’ve seen, adult, animated or other wise. Wanna know why? Cause it’s all done by TWO people (save for like one ep each season where one other person is allowed to touch their baby). Yeah TWO people and they work their asses off every season to interject, humor, refrences, parody, plot and character development in equal measure. 

3) Character Development

Um yes in case you were wondering that’s right an adult animated show has CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT  that holds as the series goes on. Not to give spoilers but characters will go through changes in alignment, relationships will develop and change, some characters will go through negative arcs where they are straight up unbareable for a season before coming out the other side even better than they were before. There is no end of epsiode or even end of season reset. Characters, settings, and dynamics all change over the course of the show and it feels just so god damn good.

4) Story Development 

Just like the characters the story of the Venture Bros grows and changes each season. Things that are set up even as early as season one are paid off as the series goes on. Like not to be that bitch but you know how RIck and Morty teases an overarching plot ALL THE TIME but like will often just spit in the face of fans hoping for more than like one episode a season addressing it? Yeahhhhhhh that doesnt happen here, fans are consistently rewarded for putting the time in to rewatch and really think about what happened in the series. Characters that are seen in the background or are just referenced by other characters will be brought in to be recurring characters, things that start off as a small detail or gag will be given larger relevance and each time they do this you get that “OH I remember that from last season! So thats what it was!” The writers WANT you to rewatch, they WANT you to analyze and they WANT you to theorize, and they give you a show that gives back the time you put in.

5) Parody & Reference 

This series does a great thing with parody. They make real characters  who are just as enjoyable as the characters they parody, they make story lines that both poke fun at the absurdity of the media but shows the writers love for it. So often parody and references are just used to mock the thing but with Venture Bros you feel the love and care so when you know the thing being parodied you can laugh but feel good about laughing cause they are never laughing at a thing maybe you cared for in your youth but rather laughing with it.

And it’s never just one thing. When they parody a thing its often layered with other things to make it even more unique. Scooby-Doo is overlayed with famous criminals, Laura Croft is mixed Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, GI Joe is given the look of the Village People and so on. They never go for the easy joke or reference. Hell theres an episode that starts with them reciting the lyrics to David Bowies Space Oddity for really no reason other than they could. They weave these things in naturally with their setting and characters so nothing feels out of place. Like if you dont catch a reference or parody you dont feel like “I think this isa reference to something?” like a LOT of things do not just adult animated shows. You arent taken out of the moment cause it all feels so natural. 

6) The Characters 

God damn these characters, I could go on for hours about these characters. From main to one off these are some of the most likeable characters you can find. I mean it when I say I can’t think of a single character I wish they had cut cause they are all so well created. Even the ones I hate i have fun hating cause they were made to be that way. I’ll be good though I’ll only talk about my absolute top faves.

- The Monarchs

You ever sit and wish villain couples could have functional  healthy relationships? Well look no further than Malcom Fitzcarraldo aka The Monarch and Dr. Shelia Girlfriend (yes that is her last name). The Monarch is a high strung impulsive saturday morning cartoon villain whos tendency to over react is only matched by his unspecified hatred of Dr. Venture. And Dr. G is his nonsense partner in crime who will cut a bitch if they don’t play by their admittedly weird rules. Both characters are great on their own but are better together. Though that doesnt mean they always get along. Like a real couple they have their ups and downs they fight, break up, make-up and grow stronger in their relationship with each season. 

- Shore Leave

Ok ok so I want you to imagine James Bond, mixed with GI Joe simmering in a cocktail of the most flamboyant gay men you have ever seen and you have one of my favorite gay characters/characters in general. Shore Leave is a member of OSI (the shows SHEILD/GI Joe parody organization) he’s loud, brash, flippant, sassy and highly competent at his job loving every second of getting to beat bad guys down within an inch of their life. I love seeing him play off the stoic Brock and the two have this great brotherly dynamic that’s never called into question. He also gets to have a very cute romance with Al the Alchemist (who is also great). I could talk about this man all day.

- Dr. Rusty Venture

They did such a good job with this man. He’s a self serving, sexist, perverted, whinny, self important asshole and yet you feel pity and genuine sympathy for him and want him to succeed. You can see how Dr. V was given a raw deal by his father who seemed to care more about his adventures than his sons well being and how this molded him into the bitter man he is today, but on the flip side you can see where he chose to use that as a crutch for his worst behaviors and impulses. Seeing him slowly grow and change and be an actual good father to his boys while all the while still be a giant dick is actually really great. 

- Dr. Byron Orpheus 

Ahhhhh Dr. Orpheus part Dr. Strange Parody part busybody stay at home dad, he’s just such a delight. Dr. Orpheus is a divorcee, with an unfulfilling job of maintaining order to the cosmos (which isnt as hard as one might think), and uses his magical ablities in ways most of us would (ie menial tasks and home chores). Overly dramatic and affectionate Dr. O is a delight whenever he appears, but he’s at his best around his daughter and old friends The Order of the Triad. 

Again I can go on but all these characters ranging from main to recurring are crafted with the utmost care for you to want to see them succeed or fail, to see them again even if you know it’ll never happen, and want them to cross paths with other characters. 

The Venture Bros is one of those series that I will ALWAYS recommend even to the pickiest of humor tastes. But if you don’t believe its as good as I said or don’t think the concept is to your tastes I’ll recommend a few eps that I think best show off the base idea of the series without giving much away. In terms of plot and spoilers, though somethings wont make a lot of sense. 

- S1 ep10 "Tag Sale – You're It!" - Dr. V is having a yard sale so of course all manner of costumed weirdos show up.  - S2 ep5 "Twenty Years to Midnight" - basically a fetch quest around the world to save the planet with daddy issues - S3 ep2 "The Doctor Is Sin" - Again daddy issues but with one of the best recurring characters and a great showcase of the series deeper emotional plots - S4 ep6 "Self-Medication" - Really embraces the parody as Rusty goes to a former boy adventurer support group.  Anyway the show is 7 seasons with 80 episodes, please go watch it. I will never forgive @adultswim​ for cancelling what was to be their final season. And in closing GO TEAM VENTURE!

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

re: your last ask about the time travel shenanigans—holy fuck yes please more of this. like, not only is it funny as hell, which i appreciate, but it's also a. more c!thomas and b. points to just how interestingly both the plot and characters of this series have grown over the years and i am ALL for it

"Janus!" is the first thing Thomas exclaims when he sees the Side Formerly Known Exclusively As Deceit rise up where Logan would usually stand. Which just might be a mistake, if Janus’s expression is anything to go by.

Okay, in Thomas's defence -

This is a really, really weird day, even by his standards. Because, like, Logan's currently standing in front of the stairs, and that's not where Logan's supposed to be, and his shirt and tie are all wrong. And had had been grinning. Openly. He had been openly grinning when Thomas had first woken up and looked in his wardrobe and realized that his favorite t-shirt apparently doesn't exist anymore and all his clothes are a half-size smaller than he's used to but also they still fit and - okay, no, back to Logan. He'd gone downstairs and tripped over a chair that wasn't supposed to be there and called out Logic. And he'd been about to ask him what's going on and why everything feels so off and also why Logan's standing in Virgil's usual spot instead of over to the right of the stairs. But then he'd noticed all the aforementioned Very Weird Clothing Things. And he'd stopped and said, "Uh, Logan?" and Logan's grin had dropped and he'd stared at Thomas for a full ten seconds then whispered, "what the fuck," with great emotion.

And then Patton had shown up with a ridiculous amount of pun-riddled cheerfulness that Thomas had been able to clock as sixty-percent fake within about half a second. And his clothes had been all wrong, too, and after a lot of confused, borderline-incomprehensible yelling at each other, Roman had showed up and added to the chaos.

"I am scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it!" Thomas had declared at some point, which had been the cue for an ominous music sting somewhere to Thomas's right that made everybody jolt in terrified unison.

"Did somebody say scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it?"

"Virgil, thank god!" Thomas had practically yelled, and just about thrown himself across the room to get to him - before pausing midway and allowing his brain to process... wrong hoodie. Wrong amount of eyeshadow. "Wait. No, hang on, is this - "

"FUCKING WHO," Virgil shrieked, leaping backwards half a flight of stairs, which had led to another round of confused yelling, with Thomas trying to assure them all that he's fine he hasn't had some sort of strange head injury or whatever, he's just really happy to see Virgil and no of course that's not weird, what do you mean who's Virgil, that's Virgil right over there, Roman please put down that sword things are already out of hand -

And at some point Thomas had got it into his head that the most reasonable course of events was to summon the one person who always seems to know everything that everybody else doesn't, which brings everything up to speed, more or less. Roman had gone, "Thomas, what are you doing," and Thomas, feeling slightly manic at this point, had said, "I'm trying to summon a demon, obviously," because the best way to get hold of a certain someone probably is blatant lying, and boom, instant Janus.

"Jeee-sus Christ on a cookie-shaped canoe, what is he doing here?!"

"Janus!"

So, Janus pops up, he looks literally the same as he always has (except maybe with shorter hair? Wait, they all have shorter hair, including Thomas, wait a second -) with his half-snake-face and his hat and gloves that cosy-looking capelet of his. And although his expression reflects faint bewilderment and that very particular 'wait, what' emotion that results in being pulled abruptly away from something you were busy with, he looks so normal that Thomas thinks for a moment he might be the only sane person left.

But then Janus makes a series of start-and-stop noises of incomprehension, and gestures wildly towards Virgil, who's crouched midway up on the stairs behind Logan, looking like a cornered wild animal, and snaps, "Why for the love of everything that's holy would you tell him my name?"

"You think this is me?" Virgil retorts, hands going up to grab desperately at the bars lining the side of the staircase. "I don't understand anything that's going on! He somehow knows my name! He's - he's being nice to me!"

It suddenly occurs to Thomas that this might just possibly be a time travel sort of thing. It would explain the clothes shift. And the altered layout of his house. And the fact that when he'd checked his phone this morning it had told him it was 2016, and also it hadn't been his phone, it had been the one he'd broken a few years ago in a tragic piano-moving-related accident.

...Okay, yeah, this is absolutely a time travel thing.

"Is somebody going to explain why Thomas ruined all of our heartfelt name reveal moments in one fell swoop?" Roman demands. "I thought we agreed we were going to do them gradually and draw them out as long as possible for dramatic effect!"

"I agreed to none of that," Virgil snaps from his position halfway up the stairs.

"Yes," says Logan, "yes, I think we all would like to know what's going on. Thomas? What's going on?"

"Uh - " Thomas, who has just come to a rather startling realization about time travel and also about how shitty his Sides' taste in costumes were pre-wardrobe change, doesn't really have a prepared answer for this. "I have... I am - I just - "

Thomas struggles for words. Really struggles. And everyone's just standing there, watching him with expressions that range from terror to confusion to suspicion, and they all look so weirdly young in a way that's hard to pin down. It's the clothes. It's probably the clothes, or maybe it's the way they hold themselves. Roman, carelessly confident, without a doubt in the world. Patton, still wearing a fixed dad-grin, politely baffled and looking back and forth. Logan, who hasn't been systematically beaten down and pushed back over the course of many, many years. Virgil, who's basically just a ball of grey-and-black anger and acerbic anger at this point. Janus, who's... Janus. Who's looking at him in a way that Janus has never looked at him before.

And Remus is probably lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, too, doing whatever Remus does, and - would Remus be any different now, four years prior? Thomas hadn't had any significant problems with intrusive thoughts, not back then... or, well, back now. Maybe he's calmer, maybe Thomas could actually talk with him. Try to work something out, try to understand.

But wait, he's still got to give the Sides right here and right now an answer.

Hm.

...Thomas has been through a lot in the past four years. Not, like, fantasy protagonist a lot, but more like a extended psychological journey of self-discovery and mental health crises. Now, he wouldn't trade any of this for the world, because he's learned a hell of a lot about himself in the process - but also? The Sides have put him through a lot of horrifying realization-type things.

Which is why he absolutely one hundred percent deserves to do what he's about to do next.

"I," says Thomas, with an extraordinary amount of confidence and self-assuredness, "am psychic."

And the dead silence holds. Now even Patton is staring at him in disbelief. Janus has graduated into outright horror, his face twisted up into a oh god no I am somehow responsible for letting him delude himself this far expression.

"Thomas!" Roman gasps, almost instantly lighting up with genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so proud, we've been working on this for years. Tell me, does this extend to telekinesis, or just somehow knowing all our names and nothing else?"

"What?" Janus says. "What - no. No, you can't seriously be going along with this - what? That... what? That doesn't even make any sense?" He turns wildly from left to right, and - okay, it's very enjoyable to see him out of his depth, to be perfectly honest. Thomas likes Janus a lot, knows he has his best interests at heart, but the whole courtroom thing had been a major dick move. This is satisfying. "Are any of you getting this? Does anyone here understand what's going on?"

"I'm psychic," Thomas repeats doggedly. "I acquired magical psychic powers and now I know all of your names and tragic backstories. Surprise! I unlocked my full potential and the ninety-percent of my brain power that I wasn't using."

"That's - that's a widely-perpetuated and wildly incorrect myth," Logan says weakly.

"Nope. Turns out it's true, and I was only using ten percent of it, and now that I've gone full big-brain, I know that Patton's repressing all his bad feelings because he doesn't want to bother anyone with them, Virgil acts all scary and menacing because he thinks it's the only way that I'll ever listen to him, and Janus is secretly a huge dork with a heart of gold - uh, yellow, I guess."

"How dare you," Janus breathes, looking horrified.

"Wha - " Patton suddenly looks very pale indeed.

"Also, Roman, you're my hero; Logan, please never stop smiling like that ever again, it's literally my favorite thing in the world and if you ever stop being enthusiastic about teaching me things I will cry - and Virgil, I love you."

Virgil lets out a choked little noise like he's just been punched directly in the stomach.

"I love all of you," Thomas adds, an afterthought. "I never say that enough. Janus, that goes for you as well. You're right, I need to take care of myself more."

"I'm - " Janus is still looking around at everyone in complete disbelief, but now his gaze fixes onto Thomas, his eyes wide. "I'm what?"

Thomas is now on a roll. An extremely cathartic sort of roll. "And Remus -"

Everybody immediately panics. Virgil and Logan's hands both immediately leap up to clasp over their mouths, which seems to be a reflexive reaction on Janus's behalf. Patton lets out a deranged-sounding high pitched giggle that edges into genuine hysteria.

"Brother? What brother? I don't know what a brother is!" Roman says loudly. "I've never had a brother in my life! Thomas, your glorious psychic powers are malfunctioning. Have you tried turning them off and turning them on again?"

" - I'm not going to lie and say I love him, but -" Thomas stops abruptly, and staggers  backwards to catch himself on the couch as a thought strikes him out of literally nowhere. "Son of a bitch -"

"Does being psychic make you swear a lot?" Patton asks weakly. "Because, uh. Not sure I like this side of you, kiddo - "

"Logan," says Thomas. "Logan, what's the date today? This is so, so important, what's the date."

"It's... October," Logan says, very slowly. "October twentieth. 2016?"

"Holy shit," Thomas whispers, and then says it louder, "holy shit. Okay, listen. I was going to sort out all of our collective psychological issues in one impressive emotional speedrun, but I've realized we have something much more important to do." He pauses, and takes in a very deep, shuddering breath. "Guys. We can save Vine. Excuse me. I've just realized I’ve got to make a lot of calls."

[smallerinfinities]

mad woman: iii (nessian)

a/n: *taps mic* does this thing still work? OH hey! hello! yes, this fic is properly old now and probably everyone thought I abandoned it but joke is on everyone including myself lmao...turns out I love these two..and after acosf well I would 10/10 die for them. so here we go! a ride to be sure! people do be getting naked!

warnings: 4.8k of smut (like woah). language. guilt. 

Nesta wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing.

It had seemed like a good idea. Everyone in certain social circles knew the truth about Hewn City. Knew the dance club for the front it was for the shadowy bowels beneath. Here, she had thought yesterday morning, here she could be on even ground with him.

Him.

Cassian's hand was still in hers as she led them both down the long hallway toward room 3B. His words before hadn’t completely hidden his reactions to her clothes, her face, her body. She smiled to herself remembering the slight widening of his eyes. He probably thought he hadn’t reacted, but she knew. All men are weak. Just put on a dress and show some thigh and she knew she’d get his attention. Even if it was probably all for show. Cassian was a fine actor.

She thought back to four days ago. Or was it five, she thought. They had started to bleed together after the bender she’d gone on after wishing Cassian death on the phone with Amren.

Feyre was in her apartment for the second time in a week. An unprecedented occurrence. If the judgment in her eyes was any indication, she had come to check on things. Baby sister coming to her rescue. How rich. She stood on the carpet again, with her perfect heeled sandals and her tidy camel trench coat. Thankfully, she’d left the hat at home this time. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest as she surveyed the room.

“I see you’ve already made yourself at home again,” she observed, picking up a half-empty bottle of gin, “I’ll send Alis this afternoon.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my fucking apartment, Feyre,” Nesta cringed at the lingering slur in her voice.

“So you can drown yourself in this shit alone?” She held up an empty bottle of vodka in her other hand. “Nesta, it’s only been a few days since I was here the last time. Can you even stand right now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nesta sneered, settling back into the couch cushions. She couldn’t, but Feyre was a bitch for even asking, so she spat back, “At least I cope with my problems legally, High Lady.” In a fantasy world, smoke would have curled from her lips when she exhaled those last words.

Feyre stilled, breathing evenly. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was containing her rage or accepting the shame she had to be feeling.

“I see you gave Amren a call.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Nesta was surprised. Amren had seemed like one of Feyre’s inner circle, no matter how much money the High Lord and Lady may have given her.

“No, I told Amren that what you did with her number was your business,” she wrung her hands. She was….nervous. How odd. Feyre Archeron was a lot of things, but nervous was rarely one of them.

“Well,” Nesta exhaled, the anger fleeting like wind taken out of her sails, “yes, I called. Everything was very cryptic until someone showed up here who was not a therapist and started taking his clothes off. Honestly, what were you thinking, Feyre?!”

“I…” she hesitated, sinking down on the other end of the couch with Nesta, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I don’t know. I was desperate. I just want you to feel something again, Nes.” She hadn’t called her that since they were children. Nesta felt a little pang in her chest. I need another drink. “I know it’s...unconventional, but it really does help. Rhys and I...well, you know there’s a lot of stress involved in our lives.”

“So you fuck it out with strangers that you pay to keep silent??” Nesta asked incredulously.

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot seedier than it actually is, but,” she huffed, swallowing back some kind of emotion, “yes. There’s a lot of….relief, if you just give into it. Amren knows what she’s doing.”

“Are you and Rhys having problems?” It was the only explanation Nesta could understand for this. I mean it was one thing to hire a hooker if you weren’t getting any, but from the forced lunches and “sister dates” that Elain made the three of them go on, Feyre had always seemed to have a very active sex life.

“Oh, God, no,” Feyre visibly relaxed, caught off guard by even the implication. That made Nesta’s stomach relax. She hadn’t even realized she cared. “Rhys and I are fine, stronger even. There is power in giving up power, especially when you grapple with it on a daily basis. But this isn’t about me or Rhys.” Feyre leaned over and reached out to take Nesta’s hands, but stopped when Nesta visibly tensed at the mere idea of contact. “I’m really not lying when I say I think a little relief would help you.”

“Why do you insist I need help?” Nesta ground out through her teeth.

Feyre sighed and stood. There was something settling over her face, deep in her eyes. Sadness. “Suit yourself, sister.” She stood and, to Nesta’s surprise, took a swig from the half-empty gin bottle she’d pushed in Nesta’s face earlier. Her face screwed up in a grimace, “Jesus, how do you drink that shit?”

“I don’t even taste it anymore.” Nesta looked off, toward the window. Toward the empty corner where the wedding dress had hung for months. She’d taken it down that night after he had left.

That bone-deep sadness returned to Feyre’s eyes, “Alis will be here this afternoon.”

She left without another word.

Nesta sighed, catching Cassian’s attention, but she said nothing. She kept a steady flow of booze in her veins after Feyre left for three more days, sometimes just laying in bed for hours while the world spun. She saw Tomas, saw Elain, but most often she saw hazel eyes and bold, dark lines inked across a broad, tanned chest. Those were the torturous hours, when the desire would rise in her, when she would feel something just like Feyre said. Even if it made her soul burn. He was haunting her. He’d left her alone, angry and wet, for what? Because she refused to accept his “help”? Wasn’t this all just fucking anyway? What difference did it make how she responded?

The frustration had overwhelmed her until she finally realized that it didn’t matter how much she drank, he wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t chase him into a whiskey-soaked oblivion like she could the memories of her fiancé and her sister. He was real. He was still breathing. He was making her life a living hell.

He was going to pay for it.

So, she’d called Amren back. Had made him meet her here of all places. Had put on a dress and a pair of heels and more makeup than she’d been planning to wear at her own wedding. A costume. A mask. If he was going to “help” her, at least it wouldn’t seem like her that he was helping. She’d fuck him out of her life on her terms. Just once wouldn’t damn her to hell, right?

Nesta had never been to Hewn City before. Clubbing had never been her style. She was more of a library, bookworm kind of girl. But now that she was here, she kind of liked the secrecy of it all, the discretion everyone had whispered about. It made her feel like a character in one of her books, a different kind of escape than booze offered, with the rouge-tinted lights and shadowy, padded hallways. She could be anyone here. She would be anyone here. Anyone but herself.

“I think this is it,” Cassian’s deep rumble sounded behind her. They stopped in front of a painted black door, the marker flickering “3B” in the light of the candle sconce behind them. Nesta fit the key into the lock and turned it.

The room was cooler than the hall, but she wasn’t sure the temperature was what made her break out in gooseflesh. There was a massive four-poster bed in the center of the room covered in black satin sheets drawn back against a deep crimson comforter. Only a handful of hanging exposed bulbs lit the space, giving the boudoir decoration some industrial finishes. It was like a scene out of some vampire film noir. The light reflecting off heavy restraint cuffs at each corner of the bed only heightened the effect. A dark armoire loomed in the corner. Nesta was sure that if she opened it, she would find any number of instruments with which to tease and taunt Cassian with. This place was a sex dungeon and she had paid to be a mistress tonight.

Cassian’s mistress.

Nesta took a deep breath and settled into this new character, some confident woman who knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to take it from a willing participant. She sauntered over to the foot of the bed and leaned back against it to look at him. He was so quiet tonight, looking around the room like she had, taking it all in.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nesta proded.

“No,” he hesitated, stuffing his hands into his front pockets like an embarrassed school boy rocking forward on his toes. It only lasted for a second before he hid it behind a smirk, “no, just a little….confused?”

“About what?” She crossed her feet at the ankle and let the deep slit on her dress fall open, revealing almost every inch of her long legs. His eyes widened momentarily before he cleared his throat. Was he….nervous?

“Well, uhh,” he was stammering now, the false bravado unable to keep up with the situation unfolding in front of him, “if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what to do.”

“You mean, Cassian, self-proclaimed sex therapist, doesn’t know what to do?” The teasing in her voice blushed his cheeks pink, “well, color me surprised. I thought it would have been clear by now.”

“It’s not that it’s...you’re…” he cocked his head, “different.” His eyes followed every inch of bare skin from her painted toe to the top of the slit an inch below her hip. “Something changed.”

Why does he make this so damn difficult?

“Yes, well,” she replied, biting her bottom lip for effect, “I decided that I want you to help me.” His head straightened.

“Do you?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, emphasizing the size of his biceps. His nervous energy cooled in seconds, giving way to something else, something that had been simmering beneath the ice.

“I do,” she slipped back a little farther onto her palms, tilting her head back. She was a predator, setting a pretty, needy trap for him. If he got off on a savior complex, she’d play the part until she got what she wanted. “I just want to feel normal again.” She smiled internally as she watched her words wash over him. Watched him take a few deep breaths, watched him move for the first time since they walked in the room.

He kept his body closed, his arms a barrier between the two of them, as he stalked forward. Nesta stopped breathing, feeling his gaze shift from confusion and questions to calculated assessment. He paused in front of her and bent down, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her slim waist. The space between them was thinner than the air atop the mountains in Illyria.

“I think…” he looked her in the eye, no blinking, no touching, just a wisp of mint from his mouth, “that’s a load of bullshit.”

A rush of fury, so white hot it blinded her, licked down her arm. She raised her open hand and ripped it through the air.

Only to be caught in an iron grip.

“Ah, ah, dear Nesta,” his lips curled up on one side, “I like a little pain with my pleasure, but not without my consent.”

All she could do was stare him down as she huffed, imagining the breath leaving her nostrils in puffs of hot smoke. A caged dragon in pretty clothes begging to get out. But hell would freeze over before she moved first. She could feel the tension between them, feel the electricity pulsing through him where his fist gripped her wrist. Maybe it was her pheromone-laced delusion but she thought he might want this as much as she did. He wanted her challenge, her adamant wall. He wanted to break her, remake her. Little did he know that you can’t break what’s already broken.

Just a character, just a role to play...

“Oh, come on, Cassian,” she tried to free her hand but he remained hard as stone around her wrist. He hadn’t pinned her legs though. She slid one bare leg up the inside seam of his jeans. The muscles flexed and contracted underneath the well-fit fabric, higher and higher, until she reached the apex. He hissed. A feline smile spread across her face when she felt it, felt him, hard and begging for her. “I think you want this a little more than you’re willing to admit, more than you’re allowed to admit.”

His nostrils flared, barely imperceptible, but even the smallest changes in him drew her notice. Why? It was a question she didn’t want to even ask herself, but it kept coming, night and day. Why did this night feel like the edge of a dangerous cliff? Why did his agreement to come tonight feel like more than just a business arrangement? Why did the tension between them feel like her only anchor to this life? She pressed harder into him, needing to move, to get this over with, to fuck him right out of her head.

“Nesta.” His voice brought her back from those questions that haunted her like the inked lines hidden underneath his t-shirt. So close now, so close to her fingers, her mouth. She looked up at him, aware of her knee still cradled between his legs.

“Cassian.” Her voice practically sang. The song of his own personal siren.  

He was so still. If he hadn’t said her name she wouldn’t have been sure he was even breathing. He placed his hand between his groin and her knee and stepped backward. His pupils were wide, endless pools, black as tar and eating at the hazel surrounding them. He was drunk on the lust, drowning in it just like she was.

“Take off that dress before I rip it off.”

A bone-deep shiver ran from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes at the command, reaching back up to settle between her thighs. She flushed from the heat of his gaze on her skin as she stood, reaching behind her neck to loose the three pearl buttons between her pride and her desire. Fuck it. The dress pooled at her feet.

The corner of her lip tugged upward when she heard his breath catch. She wasn’t wearing anything under the dress. Lingerie had felt like too much and her regular cotton cheekies would have been too conspicuous beneath her close-fitting dress, so nothing had been the only choice. The right choice if Cassian’s jeans had anything to say about it, clearly growing tighter by the second.

Nesta backed herself onto the bed again, digging in with her heels to push herself toward the headboard as gracefully as she could while burning alive. And she was burning under his gaze. Every flick of his dilated pupils, from her bare legs, to her full breasts, to her smooth stomach, to her glistening cunt, she burned. When her head thudded against the carved cherry wood headboard, his eyes finally met hers. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat.

“See something you want, Cassian?” she asked, struggling to keep her tone innocent, indifferent.

“Depends, Nes.” She ignored the heat that pooled at the nickname, especially when he said, “what are you offering?”

She bit her lip at his words. And spread her knees open for him. Now, come and take it.

He went wholly still as pink creeped into his tan cheeks. He was fucking blushing at her cunt on display for him. A filthy thought entered her head and before she could shut it down, she reached between her legs and traced a finger over her slit. The low lights flickered in the reflection off the wetness laced there before her finger disappeared….

Right between Nesta’s wine-colored lips.

His eyes tracked that finger in and out of her mouth as she sucked and swirled her tongue around it, moaning at the taste of her arousal, the eroticism of the gesture. She released her finger with a pop and smiled wickedly at him.

“Want to taste?”

Cassian moved swift as a thunderclap, as if her words were paddles jumpstarting his heart into quick, heavy beats. He pulled off his shirt. Those thick, black lines of ink that haunted her dreams were on full display, curling around his biceps and across his broad shoulders. She wanted to trace them with her tongue, taste the salt on his skin. He didn’t bother with some cliché striptease. His fingers fumbled with his belt, fumbled with the top button and zipper of those tight jeans. He tripped out of them, splaying his hands across the rumpled comforter as he kicked his pants somewhere across the room, losing his shoes and socks at some point between.

She would have smirked at the clumsiness, questioned his self-proclaimed prowess as a sex therapist, if her throat hadn’t gone completely dry at the size of him. Even through his underwear there was no mistaking it—massive, just like every inch of the rest of his body. Of course, he had a cock to match.

He grinned, following her eyes, guessing her train of thought. The bed dipped as he crawled toward her, full prince of cats on display again. A man who knew what people saw when they looked at him and enjoyed that power, that raw sexual energy dripping from his every pore. With that glint in his eye, she was happy to play along—for now.

Every thread in the expensive duvet cover beneath her set a thousand sparks rocketing across her skin. His movements were measured, purposefully kept from touching her skin. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of him with every inch forward, every inch toward where she wanted him. All of him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Nesta started to fidget with anticipation, ready for him to spread her open and take, take, take, but she wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t reach or claw or whimper, no matter how much she wanted to.

Feyre might be paying, but she would own him before the end. Even if she had to sacrifice her soul to do it.

When his mouth finally made contact with her skin, a whisper of a kiss along the inside of her thigh, it was a struggle not to moan. Loud. She was strung tighter than a bowstring and he knew. Her traitor body was going to beg for him with or without words, so she opened her mouth instead.

“Gonna fuck me senseless, Cassian?”

His head jerked up from between her thighs, that feline smile turning her molten. “You know, Nesta. I think I’ll shut you up instead.”

Someone as big as he was shouldn’t have been able to move that fast. Shouldn’t have been able to cover her entire body with his and claim her mouth between one second and the next. His hands curled behind her neck to pull her firmly to him and devoured her. Their tongues clashed, dancing together, as she moaned into his mouth. Whether it was surprise or pleasure or both that pulled it from her, she wasn’t sure. The mint and adrenaline still laced his tongue, this time with a natural smokiness that she hadn’t noticed before. He licked at her, sucked at her lower lip. She nipped at him, teeth as much a weapon as her words, her hands. She dragged her nails down his naked back and drew a hiss from him, maybe some blood too if the tang of iron was any indication.

It only spurred him.

“You know these lips taste better when they’re not liquor-stained,” he panted. He studied her face, she knew it must be flushed from his kiss, and slowly ground his hips into hers, with the same bruising intensity he claimed her mouth, drenching himself in her through the thin fabric of his underwear. Those really need to disappear. Her fingers continued their violent path down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs, the only barrier left between everything she wanted. Wanted, never needed. They danced around to the front of him and sought purchase.

Another moan, loud and throaty filled the space between them.

My God.

“Off, off, off, off,” she was chanting when he finally released her mouth to move down to her neck, surely to mark her like she’d marked his back. It was going to be tit for tat with him. “OFF,” she clawed at his hips. He raised up and smirked at her.

“You just have to ask, Nes.” His lips curled to the side, “maybe say please.”

She held his gaze. Please. It was a chant in her head but she couldn’t say it. He saw it there, the challenge, the struggle, but this was a battle of wills. And Cassian was a seasoned general.

He ducked his head and nosed at her jaw, along her throat, peppering her skin with close-mouthed kisses. “Just say the word,” he ground into her again, not nearly the friction she wanted. His hands found her peaked breasts and traced her nipples, slow circles at first, then quick pinches accented by his teeth at her throat. There was no pattern, no guessing, no preparation. Every nerve ending was a live wire, screaming for his touch.

Nesta Archeron was going to die here. The flames in her belly were going to consume her and she was going to die at a high-priced sex club. And maybe she should. It might be worth it. Rhysand would never live it down. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for an orgasm. But, as his hips did another slow roll against hers and he scraped at her neck with his teeth, her resolve imploded.

“Please,” she croaked. She felt his smile against her skin.

“What was that?”

“Please,” she said a little louder, still barely a whisper.

“That’s awfully quiet, Nesta,” he licked at her collarbone and made her eyes roll back into her head. “Makes me think you don’t really want it.”

“Please,” she repeated, her head thrashing, “please, PLEASE.”

“Okay, okay,” he pushed up to lean back on his heels above her. “No need to shout.” The tease in his voice forced an impatient growl from her. He cocked an eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic waistband on his underwear, slowly pulling it down below the defined V set low on his abdomen, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tanned skin, until finally they were gone and there was nothing left between them but sexual tension and a promise of release.

Her eyes raked down his muscled body, unable to keep her hand from reaching to touch the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, reaching lower. His fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“Uh, uh, princess,” her cheeks flamed as he lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss on her palm, “it’s my turn.”

She blinked and his mouth was on her. His hair, tufted at the back of his head, bobbed between her legs as he lapped up the wetness that had been pooling since they started their games tonight. Since he first leaned against her door frame, if she was being honest with herself. His lips wrapped around her clit and when he moaned around her, she saw stars. Her toes curled. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair. Her knees bent to capture his head forever between her thighs but he caught them before she could crush him with the force of her pleasure.

It might have been hours, days. He held her spread open and licked and suckled and fucked her entrance with his tongue. Careful, slow strokes to stoke the fire ripping through her veins but not enough to send her to her peak. Her thighs began shaking; her fingers knotted into his hair and held his mouth against her. His name was a holy chant in this unholy place.

“Cassian,” she sobbed as a tear rolled down her temple and into her sweat-soaked hair.

He groaned and release ripped through her. Waves of pleasure locked her body in a silent scream, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. He kept stroking her through it, his tongue undulating against her clit over and over as her body jerked involuntarily once, twice before relaxing completely, melting into a warm, soft puddle of flesh.

There were no words. No thoughts. Nothing inside her head except for the truth of it. No one has ever made her feel like that, forced that kind of pleasure from her. Her harsh breaths were the only sound in the room as Cassian traced patterns on her inner thigh. She blinked furiously, clearing her eyes of any emotions that might betray her. Looking down, she caught his eye and his answering smile made her forget her own name.

He was looking up at her, his cheeks pink from the heat and pressure between her thighs. His hair was a fucked out mess. He looked...content. As if her orgasm was all he wanted, like he could do it again and again and not care if she ever touched his cock even though she’d never wanted anything more in her life.

But...what if he doesn't want that?

She tensed suddenly. He was an escort after all. This wasn’t his choice. What if all of this is just an act? She knew she shouldn’t care. She was a paying customer and shouldn’t care what he wanted. What his desires were. She should just take her pleasure, satiate her own desire, and leave. That had been the plan when she came here. Hell, she had just been acting when this all started.

Until he gave her the best orgasm of her entire fucking life. Until he called her on her bullshit, got naked, and got on his knees for her. Until he made her gasp his name and fucking cry for the privilege.

This was wrong. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—

I don’t deserve this.

Her breath caught in her throat. I need to get out of here.

She sat up so quickly her head spun. Her fingers caught on the restraints attached to the headboard and she recoiled. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? Cassian jerked up from between her legs at the motion, the perfect window for her to rip her legs from his vicinity and swing them to the floor.

“Nesta, what’s wrong?”

She heard him, confused, still panting, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him. The panic was bitter, the taste in stark relief to Cassian’s tongue. Stop! Where is my fucking dress? Her head swiveled frantically. A slip of navy stuck out from under the armoire in the corner. She lurched forward, grabbing and pulling on the dress that barely covered her ass, left nothing to the imagination. What have I done?

“Nesta, what is happening?” Cassian was louder this time. Loud enough to draw her eyes. He was leaning on one elbow, wide-eyed and still painfully hard. At this angle, she could see the angry red marks across his shoulder, darkening with dried blood in some places. A damning souvenir for what she had done. A claiming.

She couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. A betrayal.

“Was—” he sat up and leaned on his knees, “was it not good?” Some unfamiliar emotion danced across his eyes as he waited. She stared and stared and stared. “Did I—“ he kept hesitating, “did I not make you feel good?”

It was the doubt, thick and traitorous, in his voice that made her silently turn around and walk out the door.

------ *runs away*

tags: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron @awesomelena555 @mysticalunicole​ @lordof-bloodshed​ @courtofjurdan​

[pynkhues]

I got so excited seeing you post about Succession, I am absolutely obsessed with everything about that show from the writing, to the performances, to Kendall fucking Roy. Would love to hear any of your takes or analysis on the Roy siblings.

Oh my gosh, me too, anon. I'd been watching the eps a few at a time and when I got halfway through s2, I started watching them one at a time just because I didn't want it to end! It's been a crazy long time since I've done that, and it was such an invigorating feeling to enjoy a show that much to want to draw it out again. I finished s2 a few days ago and am halfway through a rewatch already, haha, and I am SO. HYPED. for s3.

It's so well written and like you said, the performances are top-notch (Jeremy Strong ridiculously deserved his Emmy last year, oh my god), and just the pay off with plotlines and character arcs is unreal, even if that pay off often hurts. I think it does such a great job of showing how filthy rich they are too, but making no part of their life aspirational? Which is a hard line to walk. They're all so miserable and traumatised and disconnected and lonely and they're destined to stay that way because they have no emotional tools to do or be otherwise. It hurts, but it's so frequently what they deserve too, and that gets so tangled up and twisted. I love it.

And man, the Roy kids!! Putting some broadstrokes analysis / opinions under the cut, because omg, I feel like I'll be talking for 1,200 years otherwise, haha.

Connor Roy

Legit obsessed tbh. When I was growing up, my mum was a huge Spin City fan, so she used to park me and my sister on the floor in front of it with toys while she watched, and as a result I think I have this really warm response to Alan Ruck, haha. He's fantastic in this, and lends the right amount of vulnerability to Connor.

I love that there's this push-pull with him as kind of an outsider, but also not? Like he's there at the table, to borrow the phrase from Tom, but there's very much this feeling that it's a courtesy or formality to Logan's previous family (and god, I'm dying to know more about his mum / Logan's first wife), but that doesn't stop this deep rooted need that Connor shares with his siblings for their father's validation.

I think a lot about what Connor says to Kendall in the s1 finale about how anyone can have a million dollars, but right now, with Logan's empire, they're somebody. It's this sort of tangled disconnect from reality (anyone can have a million dollars??) but also his desire to be seen broadly, but more specifically seen as Logan's son, that I feel really grounds Connor's arc, and I feel like he's just going to get louder and louder about it, especially with his presidential run getting closer.

Kendall Roy

Okay, okay, okay, I know that he's an absolute nightmare and a terrible human, but oh my goooooddddd, I love him as a character. I saw it in somebody's tags on a gifset, but I love this set-up where Logan keeps Kendall on the shortest leash, but it's a leash all of his siblings, despite themselves, want to be on. That's awful, but so indicative of the toxic way that Logan's raised his children.

There's also a great quote from Jeremy Strong somewhere, and I can't find it now, but to paraphrase, he said that the whole family is raised on this idea of strength and power, and Kendall's sort of a case study in strength not being his native language. It's so true, and I think Kendall's smart and resourceful and quick on his feet, but he's also so often desperately trying to wear a costume of who he thinks he should be.

I don't think he's weak (in fact, I think he's really resiliant), but he's definitely a fragile character and an addict, who nakedly needs nurturing that no one is willing to give him, least of all his mother (which, god, that scene when he tries to talk to her in the UK destroyed me) so instead he pretends to mould himself into the perceived image of his father and fails every time.

It's brutal to watch, especially when you see other characters know that and use it to manipulate him. Hell, his own father pretends to nurture and protect him (and I think kind of genuinely does too? But it's so warped?) the whole of s2, and it brings Kendall closer than ever before. It's painful, and affecting, and it's just this manifestation of trauma in a hopeless, cringe-inducing package, haha.

Roman Roy

Another nightmare baby I tragically love, hahaha. I actually think Roman's had one of the most interesting arcs on the show and one of the few that seems to be positive? Like his tendency to not take anything seriously so that he never truly fails was pretty fun in the first season, but to see that evolve into someone who's green but has great gut instincts, and is good when he lets himself be and when he lets himself try, is really invigorating narratively, especially as the other characters all slip further down morally and/or stagnate.

I'm loving the way that it's sort of cannibalising itself though too with him and Geri's relationship suddenly, um, pivoting, hahaha, and especially the way she's honed in on him getting off on being demeaned. There's something really fun about the one character clawing his way up masturbating to being told exactly how low he is.

Plus Kieran Culkin is a gem.

Shiv Roy

Sarah!! Snook!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've had a huge crush on her since Not Suitable for Children so was already totally delighted to see her in this, but oh my god, she's so good, and Shiv is so awful in so many wonderful ways. I love that she's kind of like Kendall in the way she pendulums between extreme competence and the most mortifying self-sabotage, and the way she's a very specific sort of insecure. Logan never asked her, y'know? Not really, and the way she knows she's his favourite, but knows that being his favourite without the validation of succession doesn't mean anything.

In a lot of ways, she encapsulates the show's themes and Logan's abuse in the best way, because she has what her brothers want. Her father loves her more openly than he does any of them, but that love isn't enough, because Logan's made sure it never will be. It's not a true love after all, because Logan loves them, but he loves none of them more than himself and his legacy, and being given the latter is what they've all been convinced will make them happy when it never will.

Nothing will.

It's just so good and so painful, and I'm in love with it all.

[1a-imagines]

Greetings! I just started using Tumblr and I stumbled across your account. Your works are really beautiful and amazing! I would like to request if it's okay? How would Todoroki, and Bakugo react to their s/o dressing up into a maid costume because Class 1-A opened a booth? Then some random guys started hitting on them? Idk it's up to you! I don't have an imaginative mind huhu. Ily! Stay safe!❤

A/n: ive tried to upload this 3 times already :)))

But thank you so much!! It means a lot to me! I put a lot of effort into all my works so i appreacite it!

Bakugo:

PFT ha! He doesn't care about some dumb maid outfit and how it hugs your curves… or… how it shows off your soft looking thighs…

"So how do i look?"

"You look Stupid.."

What he means to say is that you look gorgeous.

He'll pretend not to care, but he does, my god he can barely take his eyes off you.

He loves it

But he also hates it.

Everytime you turn away from him or get distracted his eyes will automatically wander all around your body.

It was like a form of torture.

At one point you dropped your notepad and bent over to pick it up and he almost exploded on the spot.

He'll have to cool off for a bit, you really worked him up!

The worst part is you weren't even trying to!!

At least if you were doing it on purpose he could just yell at you to knock it off!

When he gets back to find two men hitting on you all hell breaks loose.

They were practically drooling over you, their hands slowly inching towards your body.

It's only a matter of seconds before he's in front of you, the table they were sitting at flipped over and the familiar smell of caramel hit your nose.

Both of his smoking hands reached out and grabbed fist fulls of their shirts pulling them forward as he towered over them.

"You so much as look at my girl again and I'll blow you up so hard you'll fly into the sun!" He seethed.

He won't hurt them much, but a good warning filled with some threats and glares will do.

Soon enough the two strangers are running for their lives and you're in his arms.

Of course everyone is looking at the two of you but he couldn't care less.

No one disrespects his girl.

For the rest of the day he'll stay at the cafe, watching over (and admiring you in that dress) like a hawk.

You ask him why he's not exploring the other stalls.

"It's just because there's no other interesting things in this shit fest! Now stop questioning me and get back to work!"

Like hell he's leaving you alone when you look like that!

You're too beautiful for your own good and all these extras are probably waiting for the chance to jump at you!

Consider him your personal bodyguard.

A bodyguard who's going to kiss the hell out of you when he gets you alone.

Todoroki:

Honestly? He probably won't think much of it.

He can't deny you look beautiful in the dress, but you always look beautiful to him so it's not much difference.

Don't take offence when you ask him how you look and he replies. "The same as always."

He means it as a compliment.

He will spare you a few long glances, it's a nice sight for sure but he wont react or say much about it.

However, not everyone is withdrawn and stoic and he is.

He'll notice all the looks and comments others are making about you.

Most people are respectful towards you.

But then two males will show up, their eyes scanning your body up and down, and his possessive side will rear its head

Poor guy has no idea what he's feeling or what to do.

All he knows is that he wants to freeze those two males to their chairs and kick them over to leave them squirming on the floor like an overturned turtle.

He doesn't want to cause a scene and embarrass you when they were only staring.

But the second they begin to cat call you the air around him turns cold.

Ice spreads across the floor until the two unsuspecting men are stuck to their seats, which just so happen to topple over and leave them crushed on the ground.

Upon seeing your surprised face he'll turn away like he did nothing wrong.

But he knows what he did and he doesn't regret it one bit.

Since he isn't sure how to feel about this new emotion called jealousy, he doesn't approach you or talk to you about what happened.

That doesn't mean he isn't watching everyone in the room to make sure no one else pulls the same stunt.

He's noticeably a little angry, and so you get him alone to talk about what was going on.

"I'm… not sure what happened or why i feel so annoyed. But seeing those men disrespecting and flirting with you just-"

You could see his face scrunching up from the memory.

Give him some reassurance, tell him what he's feeling is normal, give him a small peck on his cheek.

He'll relax at your reassurance, and it'll save more people from getting frozen to the floor.

But that won't stop him from lingering around you all day and sending glares to anyone with wandering eyes.

After the event he may be a bit more affectionate than usual, he needs to relieve some of the stress from the day.

So expect plenty of cuddles, he'll keep you in his arms all night long.

It's where you belong after all.

[misterbitches]

what i like abt muren and li chen

i’m sorta burned out and my vagina is bleeding so lemme see if i can type this. probably can lmao. my brain is going ten miles a minute.

1. the fact that they were friends first.

 someone on here said this and idk who but i don’t want to seem like it was my idea. 

the fact that they are friends and didn’t have like a connection previously and it developed. most times friends-to-lovers has a basis of some sort of romantic interest from another person so they were not truly ever friends, you know? and many relationships people aren’t friends first but that’s the best kind. and they are the truest form in that (i wouldnt say truest means good but just i think a representation of) they were truly friends, no attraction at least consciously, and were lead into it. 

2. bc they know each other well and are friends they know each other and LAUGH and if you can’t laugh with your love then there is no point. 0. lmao. i love it

idk they fell easily in2 the luvy duvy part and u can actually believe they are into each other like outside of kissing. gee. also hello! when lichen like threw the heart in the office and muren caught it? bitch! i woulda been like ew!!!!! and blushed but muren was like that’s right that’s my bitch

3. bouncing off 2 um uhhhhh the way they interact so i guess this is 2 but whatver i like lists now

muren is >:O but super sweet and receptive to others. so he responds to people and it isn’t just stoic for stoic sake or with not much substance. idk how to say this but oftentimes sometimes i feel like characters will be too oppositional to offset their partner and it can be extremely annoying to watch because it’s part of the dynamic but sometimes there’s a lack of reciprocation. i like that even if muren is quiet he smiles a lot and lets people know through his actions and shit. esp his mans. and when he needs to talk, he will. 

lichen is perfect for this because of reasons. what do you even say about this dude holy shit. first of all he really is a fucking himbo. he’s not even dumb he’s just a fucking himbo. it’s great to say the way they express their excitement and the best thing to hear, “i can be myself around you”

4. u cannnot tell me that this top/bottom discourse is actually not ridiculous esp for them bc there is no way that my eyes are seeing what i see yet there’s some struggle when they’re trying to constantly grapple with the masculine/feminine aspects (this is a good thing)

with the way that they hang off each other. esp bc lichen is shorter than him and stockier and he can attach himself like a barnacle. the way he expresses glee and love is very “feminine” at times IE reliance, support, putting your head on his etc but then there are times when he is the one to hold muren too. so it’s like they are clearly on the same  level in how they exchange love and stuff and exploring the dynamics but it clearly isnt as structured as the usual ones and it shouldnt be so they should just stop talking about this shit cos ur both getting fucked god shut up

lichen squeals like a girl and is obsessed with him. he is clingy and also says “what do you want to do to me.” if this show is gonna sit us through the agony of this stupid discourse and they tell me they arent gonna sw*tch or whatever (not that they cant have other forms of sex bc that is not that difficultand as adults w eknow this but anywaaay) then they simply are wrong

5. the ~gay 4 u~ thing is dumb and i cannot believe it tbqh cos it’s like sir....but i am glad that lichen like expresses attraction to his physique and personhood as a man and acknowledging that that is something and a part of the attraction.

 it was probably a happy accident but it’s still a good one. there’s sometimes an idea of like sexual attraction being sorta nebulous when someone is like getting into a rship with the same gender but not being sure about their sexuality or whatever or still liking another gender explicitly where they cant admit they find things attractive or enticing even when they are in a same sex relationship and it is so fucking confusing and doesn’t make sense. i wish instead of trying to make it cut and dry they just went honestly mabye they dont know but theyre both men and thats a factor. ok lets move on now. :) 

6. they make u feel nice

especially in comparison to the show being messy and also there’s some crazy stalker man running around you know they temper that 

they’re just really fun to watch. it’s an interesting dynamic and particularly with xing si in their lives it’s nice and i’m so glad there’s no one else to ruin it like say a brother who is a waste of space. but it’s mostly good feelings for them and you can see why they like each other, that they can stay together, and how helpful a relationship can be as you grow as an individual

7. while i am sure there will be further misunderstandings...comm...unic...ation?

literally boys are dumb as hell but idk if my reading is correct on this one but SO FAR TO MOI im like wow u guys like actually talk. woah. and i think that’s nice. yest i had a breakdown in front of my fam bc i am sometimes emotionally stunted when faced with distress so it’s nice to see people talking that out in particularly with like jealousy and stuff

AND their interactions in public and the understanding. knowing it takes time and stuff for them to adjust and allowing them the time. they are extremely different to other people and they want to be distinct and they can be and arre to each other they dont need to follow anyone else’s rules (except the costume department sometimes needs to get better pants for muren like that’s my rule tbh but that’s neither here nor there)

did some1 call them emotional support himbos? i think so cos word. 

oh one more thing idk the name of the actor playing li chen and im too tired to look it up but i like him a lot i think he does a good job of going seamlessly between like a jubilant person and an actual human being. he plays well at being oblivious but not outright stupid and emotionally stunted or not picking up certain signals. i think at times it seems like he doesn’t always have a sense of self  like trying to be something else for other people but then he realizes like he can’t do that so all he can do is be himself which leads him 2 his mans but yea. the actor does a decent job! it’s a fun character to wathc

[beldroxramscal]

Sway ~ part 1

Javier Pena x female!OC

Word count: 2.690

Summary: One of Javier’s former informants came back to Bogotá. On his way to find out why, he encounters some unexpected trouble.

Warnings: guns, strippers, mentions of sex, language

A/N: No one asked for this and I doubt many people will read this, but I was so proud of myself for writing more than a few sentences, I decided to post this. My first fic in maybe 3 years? This is also my first time not writing for a ship and my first time posting something with my OC (very exciting and terrifying). I have a little more in mind with this, but we’ll see.

English is not my first language and I have no one to beta for me. That is just a very long way to say: sorry, my English sucks.

Part 1//Part 2//Part 3//

However he thought, or God forbid hoped, this night would go, this was not even in his top ten. Sweat rolled down his back, as the barrel of a gun dug under his chin. The mixture of gunpowder, iron, and raspberries hitting his nose while a pair of green eyes looked up at him. All he saw were flames. It was hard to connect her to the woman he saw just 5 minutes ago dancing with soft blue lights reflecting off of the glitter on her body. Along with the soft smiles and white bodice, she looked almost angelic. It was a stupid thought back then, and it’s even more stupid now.

“Layla! I don’t think this is a very good idea,” a shaky voice of reason came from the most unexpected source. Sweet Valentina hasn’t moved from the door since she brought him here, and he almost forgot she was standing there.

“Yeah? You know what’s not a very good idea? Bringing strange men backstage! How many fucking times have I told you?” Layla barked back without taking her eyes off of him. Her voice was angry and annoyed, but she was a complete picture of calmness.

“Look, my name is Javier Pena–”

“And you are looking for Izzy. I heard you. Where is your badge?”

Oh, so she knew who he was. He just hoped that was a good thing.

“Jeans. Back pocket.”

Layla moved to stand by his side as she blindly reached to his pocket. Instead, her hand landed on the small of his back, and she pulled out a gun from the back of his jeans. Without giving it a look, she threw it on the small couch behind her. Finally, she pulled out his badge, and her eyes left his for the first time since he came into her dressing room.

“What the fuck am I supposed to find out from this?” She closed her eyes forcefully, scrunching her nose in frustration.

“I am a DEA agent,” he answered a bit confused. No one ever questioned his badge before.

“So fucking what? Is there only one DEA agent? Anyone can fucking have this. Where’s some kind of picture, name… something. Jesus. Where’s your ID?”

Before he could tell her that it was in the inside pocket of his jacket Valentina started slurring words in a panic. By the look on Layla’s face, she wasn’t sure of what was said either, but it didn’t take much guessing when her last words were, “HE IS THE POLICE?”

“Why the hell are you still here, Val? Just get out.” Layla sounded as tired of all of this as he felt. He had some actual fucking work to do and instead he was here. Trying to figure out why one of his former informants came back to Bogotá and make sure she got out safe again.

“I’m not leaving you alone with him. What if he does something to you?”

“And how exactly would you help me?” There was a silence for a few moments, and then he heard Valentina move. Judging by the sound, she moved very slowly. Layla’s eyebrows raised in question and then her lips turned into an amused smile. “Good girl,” she said finally. Javier tried to turn his head and see what was going on, but Layla dug the gun even deeper into his skin making him hiss. It didn’t matter much either way because Valentina stopped in front of him. His own gun pointing at his chest.

“Now, where’s your ID?” Layla turned her attention back to him.

“Jacket.”

He felt her patting the side pockets and finally find her way to his wallet and ID. She studied it for a moment, looking up at him and back down to the piece of plastic and then, finally, lowering the gun.

“Give him back his gun, Val,” she nodded at her. Valentina almost threw it at him before Layla even finished her sentence. He caught it and put it back into the back of his jeans.

Layla took a few steps back and took Valentina’s hand into her own, giving it a kiss. “Go home, love,” her voice was full of tenderness and warmth as she spoke to the younger woman. Such simple gestures and somehow it felt too intimate for him to witness. “I’m sure Agent Pena will gladly pay for any emotional distress he caused you tonight.” Layla looked up from the woman up to him again with one of the fakest sweetest smiles he’s ever seen.

God, he hated strip clubs. You always pay way more than necessary for much less fun than a fucking brothel. Still, he took out a few bills from his wallet and reluctantly gave them to her. Valentina shoved them into her bra and, with a promise of a call from Layla, left.

“Unbelievable,” he let out, the bizarre nature of the situation finally hitting him.“Can’t say I’ve ever been held at gunpoint by a stripper.”

“I believe that,” she shot him a cold look. “Considering,” she gestured vaguely at him, “your whole deal. I mean, most strippers don’t have the inside information you want and very few of them fuck for money.”

He felt her words burn in his chest as he lit a cigarette to avoid her stare. He pondered if he should defend himself, but it seemed like she only wanted him to know that she knew what went down between him and Izzy. “Where is she?” he asked instead, trying to get to the point of this whole night.

“Safe. Her grandma got sick, so she came to visit her. She leaves tomorrow afternoon.”

“I would like to see her and make sure she’s alright,” he pressed. He didn’t come all the way down here and got his head almost blown off for words of reassurance.

She studied his face, lighting a cigarette of her own. Javier wasn’t sure of what she found out, but after a few moments, she turned her back to him and started packing her things into a bag. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you outside.”

———-

The second she heard the door close behind him her hands tore away at the robe draped around her body. The material was light, but it felt like she was caught in a vice. Letting the flimsy material pool around her feet, she was finally able to take a deep breath. It still did not seem like enough. It did not matter though, she had no time to panic and wouldn’t have until Izzy and David were safely out of Colombia.

Taking one more deep breath she took off the silver bra and thongs and exchanged them for the more comfortable cotton pair she came to work in. She hastily stuffed all the costumes she used that night into her bag and then swept all the trinkets on the table on top of them with one broad sweep of her hand. She was already annoyed at the mess she’d have to go through later.

In her own clothes, she made her way through the back door outside the club. It took a little longer to get to the main street, but still better than being stopped by patrons asking for a private show.

Agent Pena was leaning on the hood of, what she thought had to be, his car. He was just finishing another cigarette, his eyes already on her as she stepped from around the corner of the building and into the street.

“That was more than five minutes,” he commented when she was within the earshot. Pushing off the hood of the car, he walked to the driver’s side without giving her a second look.

“I was hoping you’d fuck off,” she muttered to herself before sliding into the passenger seat.

He started the car and looked at her impatiently, waiting for instructions. She reluctantly told him their destination, not exactly ecstatic that she was about to take him to her flat.

Silence fell over the car when they hit the streets he was familiar with, and she didn’t have to navigate him anymore. Her head rested on the window, and she watched him drive. He seemed tired. Bags under his eyes and even his hands on the wheel kept sliding down now and then. She smiled to herself when his nose scrunched up as if something tickled it.

Pena turned his head as he stopped at an intersection and did a little double-take when he noticed her watching him. “What?” he asked seeming almost self-conscious. It made her laugh.

“Nothing,” she shrugged and kept her eyes unashamedly on him.

He looked at her again, holding her gaze for a few moments as if he was testing her, averting his eyes back to the road when she didn’t flinch. “I thought you wanted me to ‘fuck off’.”

“Oh, I do,” she agreed, completely serious. “I’m also kinda intrigued. I mean, Izzy risked everything for you. I’m just trying to figure out what it is about you that was worth it.”

He seemed to be caught off guard by her honesty. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and he shifted in his seat. This was obviously not a very comfortable topic for him. “I think you are giving me more credit than it’s due. I just offered her a safe way from Colombia with her son.”

“Sure,” she nodded, “seems reasonable enough.” The sarcasm in her voice did not escape him, but she just did not want to talk about that anymore. Both of them knew Izzy liked him more than she should have. She didn’t risk only her life, but also the life of her son and her grandmother. It didn’t matter now anyway.

“Is Layla your real name?”

She let out a laugh because the question was simply ridiculous. Especially after that little exchange they just had. The corner of his lip quirked up just a little. He seemed happy she wanted to move on from the conversation as well. “You are the big DEA agent here. What do you think?”

“So, what is your real name?” he looked at her again. The streetlights reflected in his eyes, and she realized that they were not as dark as she previously thought.

“Why? So you can go back to work tomorrow and try to look me up in one of your files?” she kept her tone light, teasing. He seemed more responsive to that, and it was nice to see him relax a little. Plus, she felt she owed him after holding a gun to his head.

“Of course not,” he shook his head, “I’m going back to the office right after I’m done with this.”

She laughed again, and he joined in with his reserved chuckle. “Well, I’m tempted to see how good you are and what you come up with only my address and a stage name.”

“So,” he turned his head to her and slowed down the car when she motioned to the apartment complex she lived in and parked right in front of it. “You think we will see each other again.”

“I think you like a challenge, agent Pena,” she winked at him as she got out of the car.

She closed her eyes in the cool air, mentally banging her head against a wall. Why did she always have to flirt? Barely, but still. It was like a curse she couldn’t get rid of, and it always came up in the most inappropriate of places. Like with a fucking DEA agent who fucked one of her best friends.

Pena closed the car door and caught up with her on the steps into the building. She led him to the second-floor terrace when he tried his luck one last time. “So you won’t tell me your name?”

“No,” she answered simply as she unlocked the door to her flat. “Izzy!” she called out into the apartment, but instead of Izzy, little David came running from one of the rooms.

“Auntie, Nat! Auntie, Nat!” he almost tackled her to the ground trying to show her little cars his grandmother bought him.

“No way! These are amazing!” she yelped, trying to match little David’s energy even if he just told Pena her real name.

“Auntie, Nat,” Pena repeated after the boy with a winning smile.

Natalia just shook her head at him disapprovingly, “that’s cheating.”

“Nat! I made di–” Izzy’s words died in her throat as her eyes landed on the man next to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Izzy,” Pena walked slowly to her, “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Izzy nodded at him, her eyes blown in shock. “Why are you with Nat?”

Hearing her name, Natalia took David into her arms. “Why don’t you two have a little chat and David,” she turned her attention to the youngest one, “can tell me all about these fancy cars.” The little bugger nodded furiously and twisted his way out of her arms.

“Yes! Of course! He couldn’t wait to show you,” Izzy agreed, kissing her son on the forehead as he ran past her and into Natalia’s room. Nat followed him in silence, only squeezing Izzy’s hand as she walked past her.

Her room was a mess with bags and clothes and toys all around the place. It looked like Izzy was in the middle of a packing up. Natalia made some room on her bed and sat down with David, trying to give him her full attention. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would. David made damn sure she wouldn’t have anything on her mind but the story of the two racing cars.

It didn’t take long before the doors to her room opened and Izzy came in. She was genuinely smiling, content. “He’s leaving, but wants to talk to you.”

Nat nodded and walked out of her room and to the living room, where Pena was standing by the door with his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem very happy with anything that just happened. “What’s going on?” She stopped closer to him than necessary, but she didn’t wanna risk David hearing anything.

“Do you know how to use that little gun of yours?” he ducked his head down, bringing him even closer.

“I-I,” she stammered. The intensity in which his eyes bore into hers scared her. “Yes… Yes I know how to use it.”

“Good. Izzy doesn’t want me to go with you tomorrow.” He handed her a little white card with his name and put it into her hand. “If there’s anything weird. If you see anyone you don’t like or even if you have just a bad feeling,” he closed her hand around the piece of paper with his hand, not letting go just yet. “I want you to immediately call me, okay?”  Somehow he was even closer now, but instead of recoiling from him, she stood motionless.

His eyes slid to her open lips that were unable to form the word to go with her nodding.

“Good,” he said slowly, dragging his eyes up to hers again. She felt as if she was under a microscope as if he could see every emotion she was feeling at that moment plainly in her face. Could he tell how scared she was?

“Good,” he repeated when his eyes landed on hers again. “Call me.”

“I will,” she finally found her voice. It was quiet and shaky and downright pathetic. She should have stuck with nodding like an idiot.

His head was tilting back and forth as if he could not bring himself to get out of her space even though he should. There was no reason for him to stay this close to her now, and she wasn’t sure if there was any need before, but neither of them was ready to make the first move.

With a quick swipe of tongue over his lower lip, he finally stood up to his height, squeezing her balled up fist in his hand as he turned to the door. “Good night, Nat.”

[chaniters]

Intermission

Cyrus agrees to modify Riley's feelings, gets confronted by her, then remembers some of his worst moments at the farm and discovers Ortega's Epilepsy. All in the same evening. TW Suicidal thoughts. TW Motorbike accident. ------------------------ “Are you sure you want me to do this?” you ask, hoping he’ll change his mind.

The look in his eyes tells you he won’t take no for an answer on this.

“Please don’t get cold feet on me now Cyrus. You already told me you’d do it...”

“Yes, I did…  Fine. I’ll do it. Whatever.” you shrug as he stops the bike.

The mansion is far from the city. A little spot of private heaven, paid for with taxpayer dollars by the look of it. The Carters have been in politics for long, and public officials are often very rich in Los Diablos’ corporate government.

You can’t help feeling out of place here. Every time you’ve been at a place like this, you were wearing a disguise, maybe a junior janitor, bellboy, or waiter. Always an extra layer of protection to keep people from looking at you.

But coming here in a hero suit, drawing everyone’s eyes?

That’s… something.

The door opens as you approach, with who you assume to be Riley walking outside, a wide smile on her face.

“Ric, so glad you stopped by...!”

“Sorry I didn’t call first, I was in the area and…-”

“And you wanted to apologize for what you said last time! It’s ok silly, I forgive you!

” she says, wrapping her arms around him and giving him an intense kiss that he doesn’t seem to be returning, not that it's stopping her, with her hand going lower and onto his butt.

“Rye, I just wanted to … Rye… Rye, I didn't come to apologize. I told you it's over… we need to talk...” he keeps trying to talk through the awkward kiss.

“I know you didn't mean it!" she laughs "Come on, say it! You missed me!”

“Rye… please cut it out...”

“Hmm.. now why would I do that…”

This is new. You’d have never expected to see Ortega look so helpless...

You imagine this would be what Anathema calls cringe.

She pauses as she opens her eyes, noticing you standing right there, staring at them. Her smile suddenly loses its intensity, looking just like something that’s splattered on her face.

“Oh. And you brought Sidestep.”

“Hello” you wave, trying to fit into the awkward moment, extending your hand.

“Hi. Riley Carter pleased to meet you” she replies, putting herself back together and letting Ricardo recover his breath. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“He’s my ride,” you point at Charge. He’s the culprit here, not you. Her mind is far too intense, and this is going to be hell…

“Like I said, Riley… I need to talk to you about something. Something important.” Ortega says, his voice more serious now.

Coward. Is that another reason he brought you, to rescue him? “Oh” Riley seems to have finally paid attention to what he was saying. “I’ll give you two some space,” you say, returning to the bike. Ortega looks alarmed by you leaving, but you have enough range that you don’t need to be right next to her to do it.

You lean on the motorbike, taking some chewing gum from your pocket as they start walking around the gardens, your mind following hers, and the conversation from her end. Ricardo tells her about the last events, how Psychopathor managed to assemble a tank in prison and blow the walls in his escape, the clash that happened afterward, and how some heroes and villains ended in the hospital. Or dead, like Darkfist, and Dr. Incredible who were vaporized in a plasma blast when the tank exploded. He then goes over the investigation that determined it was built using nano-construction techniques, and how the only portable device available for something like that was in the rangers HQ before it got stolen, without anyone knowing who told the thief it would be there. The trail ends with her... She stops him there, asking what does any of that has to do with her, asking him if he’s accusing her of something so ridiculous. Shouts at him that she didn’t know about any of it, and that’s when he decides to bring it out to show her. The bug that was placed in his communicator. The expensive, unique bug that was made to blend with his insulated tech. The bug that could only have been placed by someone really close to him… A pause in her mind. Hesitation…

She denies it. He insists. He tells her Steel had everyone’s hardware analyzed and only his costume was affected… and that there was only one person he had left the costume with.

That’s when she breaks. She tells him how she got tricked, how someone she met at a party told her he was cheating on her. How they told her where to get the bug… how to apply it… He yells at her, and you begin to feel like perhaps you shouldn’t be watching this, you shouldn’t be listening in…

But he wants to know, and you said you’d do it, so you stay hooked to her thoughts, like a parasite, feeling emotions you’ve never experienced herself. Guilt. Remorse. Shame.

She tells him she’s so sorry, that she didn’t mean for this to happen, that it’s all her fault… She starts crying, apologizing, asking him not to leave her…

Thinking she should kill herself.

The thought doesn’t get said out loud, but is so intrusive and enforced by so many negative memories that you have to block it out, pull out of her mind, run away, hide inside your own thoughts and lock down your shields so it doesn’t follow. You got the answer he wanted, so you can go back to feeling like the little guy chewing gum by the motorbike. But you’re crying too now. You’ve heard similar thoughts before, but not without the drug cocktails they gave you. Not without a team of specialists helping you scrub your mind of awful thoughts you took from people.

Your trainers told you plenty of times that humans get too emotional about their partners, and that you should stay clear of such thoughts. You should have listened. Now that you had a taste, you can tell they were right because It’s terrifying.

You open your eyes to see Ortega hugging her as she keeps weeping.

Blinking doesn’t make it go away.

Why? Wasn’t he angry at her a moment ago? You can’t understand it...

But you have to go in again.

You agreed to do this, and the answer was only half of it. You can’t walk back now…

Can’t help asking yourself again why did you agree to this...

Gathering all your strength, you focus and plunge deep into her thoughts once again.

It’s terrifying in there, like a building that’s falling apart, only held together by Ortega’s arms, or at least that’s what she thinks. She thought they would get married. She thought they would have children.

SHIT.

It’s getting to you, like a flood, and you’re drowning under it…

Is this love? Why can’t I be without him? Why does it hurt so much?

She doesn’t know, and you have no clue about these questions. “ Have you ever been in love?”  She asks.

“No. I haven’t” you reply, because she’s right there. She can sense you now because you’re lost, and your training is useless here.

“But you have,” she says, pulling one of your own memories. One that you locked deep below, where it would never see the light of day. “You were in love and you made him go away.”

“ Stop. That’s not true! ” “ You loved him and you made him go away because you were afraid. And now you are going to make me go away because he is afraid. Afraid of me. ” This shouldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t be able to hurt you like this! But she isn’t… she’s just making you remember… You’re the one hurting yourself.

“ Oh my god, he’s such a coward … so you’re going to do it, no? ” she asks, bitter and relentless.

“ I told him I would,” you reply, elevating yourself above the flood that is her defense. Regaining control. Out of her grasp. “ Then do it,” she asks. “ Make me stop hurting .” Standing tall now, you can look down and see that the demons in her mind are many… Ortega is wrong. How is this going to help at all? “ DO IT, YOU FUCKING COWARD !” she dares you. “ DO IT !” The waters begin rising, trying to drown you again, but you’re ready this time, holding her back. burning deep, modified thoughts into her mind.

Turning her love to indifference. Annoyance to hatred. Breaking down her image of Ricardo to pieces, and scattering them through the waters, where they’ll never get put together again.

How far can you go?

Not much, you can sense an incoming migraine, a hard stop to your powers.

You keep going as much as you dare and then erase your own presence as well. Just like they trained you, replacing your thoughts with a tired rage aimed at the horrible boyfriend that made her cry.

You retreat for the second time, feeling your head hurting as never before. Your pain gate is no use, there’s no stopping it once it’s already inside the brain.

With a last effort, you awaken her, bringing her back to reality.

She stops weeping immediately, pushing him away, staring in shock.

What have you done?

You’re tearing up, as she looks at him with eyes that show no little recognition, before muttering a curse, telling him to get off her father’s property and going back inside, leaving him alone at the footsteps.

Why did you do this again?!

It made sense last time. You would have been discovered and reprogrammed. He wouldn’t stop having feelings for you. It was wrong.

So you reprogrammed him yourself because you couldn’t bear them doing that to him… NO!

No, you were just trying to save yourself. There’s nothing else to it.

Why did you do it again this time? Just because he asked? He’s not your handler! You know that.

Should have said no… why agree? You don’t have an answer.

His eyes are reddened as he gets closer, and by the look on his face that he’s equally shaken.

“Let’s go,” he says, without another word. You’re too weak to argue, and so you sit behind him, as he starts the engine, speeding you both away

________________________________________

The Carter mansion soon disappears in the distance, wind flowing heavily against your suit as Ricardo goes full throttle. Too fast to be able to talk normally, so you switch on your helmet’s intercom.

“We’re going really fast… are you ok?” “No I’m not ok” the reply comes a few seconds later. “Did you get anything?”

“I did,” you reply “Then hit me.” “As far as she knows, she didn’t lie, so they must have manipulated her into planting the bug..” He relaxes slightly as you say that, slowing down the bike. “That’s… good to hear,” he says at last.

“Did you really suspect her of being behind this?”

“Not her. Her father… he’s dirty and…” he sighs. “Mierda. That’s why it’s so hard to be in a relationship, you know? They’ll use anyone against you. They’ll do anything to get an advantage over you.” “She was still spying on you.” you point out. “And you still hugged her after she confessed.”

He doesn’t say anything else for a while, so you focus on the road ahead. It’s dark, and you can’t see much beyond the bike’s light. The city lights shine in the distance, but you still have above an hour to get there.

“Did you do it?” he asks in a shaky voice when you had started to think the rest of the journey would be silent.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” is all you can say.

“Thank you.” he lets out as if this had been a simple favor. Just some mind-trick, like making someone’s gun point the wrong way. Like finding out who’s looking at us…

“How was she?” he asks, not letting it go.

“What do you mean?”

“Her mind… how was it from the inside?”

“It was… I… You know I’m not a shrink, right?”

“Just tell me, Cyrus. Please” Shit.

“It was… bad. Like real bad.”

“How bad?”

You tighten your lips. That isn’t your memory...

“Cyrus, I'm only asking because I want to know if she’s going to hurt herself!”

“I did what you asked! I’m not a shrink, I just changed her feelings! She’ll stop trying to get together with you. That’s all I know!” you repeat, a lot louder this time. “Just answer the fucking question!” Deep breaths. “You don’t get it,” you complain, to no one in particular, because of course, he will never get it. Doesn’t he understand that you don’t want to think about this? It’s her thoughts, not yours, and you want it to stay that way!

“Tell me Cyrus, or we’re going to have a problem.” Your handler’s words coming from his mouth, making your skin crawl. Making you want to throw up.

Tell him. It’ll be easier.

But it’s not easy. The thought is charged with deep shame, now your shame and she rattled your own memories...

“Yes, Ric! Yes, she thinks of it sometimes. She thought of it today when you started yelling at her! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” “Yes.” he croaks through the intercom “Yes, I needed to know,” he says, the life sucked out of his voice.

“Fuck you.” you let out, feeling the beginning of the migraine, overloaded with too much baggage that doesn’t belong to you. “Can you help her with that?”

“FUCK YOU!” you scream louder.

“Cyrus, if you can help her with this then…”

“Help her with this? Listen to yourself!”

“I just want her to stop hurting!”

“And what? You want me to rewrite her into a better person, is that it? Newsflash, I can’t! I can’t handle my own problems and you want me to fix hers?” “But…” “You think I have some fucking magic wand? You don’t know what it’s like! It hurts both ways!” “I just wanted to help…” “FUCK YOU! All you want is to feel better about yourself!” Your head is about to explode, and you’re tearing up under your helmet, your eyes drifting onto the white lines on the road, going one after another in quick, endless succession. Focus on them. That’s safe. You can feel him sigh as you hold on tighter to his skinsuit, feeling him take a curve, with another incoming in the distance or so the signs say.

“Slow down. I want to get off…”

“We’re still far from the city.”

“Do you think I care? Let me off!” “I… I’m…” he’s mumbling erratically, the white lines on the road losing cohesion.

... something’s wrong! Your eyes widen as his hands begin slipping from the handlebar. There’s only a massive surge of static where his mind should be. Not normal, even for him.

“Wait, don’t do that!”  You try to wrest control of the handgrips, but you’re not fast enough, and the bike goes sideways on the incoming curve, off the road, and down the cliff.

Down the cliff.

You barely manage to brace for impact, covering your head during the fall, bumping and rolling several times until you land on your stomach, the bike falling next to you. You stay there, immobile for a few seconds, internalizing what just happened. Wondering if this is where you die…

The question lingers until you struggle to sit up, finding you are still pretty much in one piece. Taking off your helmet reveals it’s cracked on several spots.

Shit.

Standing up is a chore, but your pain gate hasn’t activated. The suit must have spared you the worst, it would seem.

“Charge?” you ask, looking around in the darkness. The motorbike’s nearby, and you walk towards it, struggling to get it back to a standing position. You maneuver the wheel to point the light around, looking for him in the direction of his static, until you find him lying on his back.

You leave the light pointing at him as you get closer. “Are you ok?!” you ask, but there’s no answer. His neck is trembling, as are his hands, emitting pitiful noises… You try to hold him down, but a bolt of electricity almost catches your hand. It takes a moment before you remember that your suit’s gloves should be sufficiently insulated.

You kneel next to him, making sure only the gloves come into contact to take off his helmet, cracked just like yours. Underneath, his face is contorted to the side, trembling and breathing noisily.

“Seizure,” you say, immediately starting to follow the guidelines they implanted in you. Left arm bent to the side and out of the way, right hand on his cheek, right knee raised and bent, and then roll him over on his side, then steady his chin up to clear the airways… That’s about all you can do without getting caught in the current… but what if it doesn’t stop? What if sets his emitters to a higher setting and fries you?

No. That shouldn’t happen, he can’t accidentally change the power setting in this state.

“Breathe. Breathe. Keep breathing” you say, holding his hand, going wildly against yours.

You keep him steady, hoping it does stop, until after two minutes, he finally does, going limp,  breathing noisily. His emitters die down too, thankfully.

“Hey…can you hear me?” you ask, tapping his arm.

He can’t, so you repeat the question a few times,  waiting. Waiting for him to come back until he finally answers with a quick nod, pressing the hand you’re holding.

It’s a relief to see him coming back to his senses somewhat, but it presents a different challenge because he’s also been in an accident on top of the seizure and you need to check if he’s ok. So you start asking him questions about his arms and legs, getting one-word responses with a delay, as he’s close to non-verbal.

Head hurts. Both arms fine.  Chest fine. Right leg fine. Left leg hurts.

Nothing seems broken, which is a relief.

You try your intercom, but the pieces are broken and you can’t reassemble it without tools. You take his helmet but the inside smells burnt, he must have fried it.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, stepping up to drag the motorcycle closer to see what the damage is. That’s when you notice the rear wheel is completely bent.

Great.

“Now this thing has to have a radio…” you begin checking the features “YES! Here!” You kiss the small device, looking for the on the switch to…-

“Wait,” he says, a hand extended towards you.

“Wha… why?”

“They can’t know I had a seizure…”

“You don’t want me to call?”

“Please no,” he asks.

You look at him, finally starting to understand what’s going on…

“You're epileptic!”

“I just missed a few doses! Haven’t had one in years! If you tell them...”

It’s all too clear what would happen. If the media found out the Marshal had a seizure while speeding on the highway...

You keep staring back at him, in shock, before tossing the radio down and sitting back next to him.

“Alright…  I won’t call them. It’s ok” you reassure him. “It’s going to be fine.”

He replies with a pained “Thank you”

“I’ll… I’ll fix this. Somehow.” Why are you doing this after what he just pulled on you earlier? Why do you care so much about this asshole?

Why do any of it? The answer comes almost immediately. It seems you’re not THAT dense.

It almost makes you laugh, with the absurdity of it all.

Luckily it takes you less than an hour to get a car to stop to take you back to town convincing the driver that you’re just wearing costumes for a party and crashed on the way. He asked you what kind of party this late at night and Ortega decides to intervene, claiming you’re strippers for a bachelor’s party.  That works like a charm, he can make up all the answers he needs in his own mind. Ricardo is silent through the rest of the journey, you don’t know if he’s still recovering or if he simply has nothing else to say. It doesn’t really matter, because you couldn’t be more thankful for it, as the migraine explodes in full force. ____________________________ My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero world. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for his wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist. Full fic is on AO3 as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/30292125/chapters/81514135

[zigtheeortega]

redeemed

pairing | m!raleigh x mc

word count | 6.6k

warnings | cursing, innuendos, mentions of sex

tags | @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura, @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink [tagging people who usually ask to be tagged !] 

author’s note | i’ve talked about this before but i’m not a huge fan of the platinum mc’s personality, so i’ve kind of crafted my own that’s quite a bit more rebellious than canon. i’m obsessed with the idea of an mc who’s romancing raleigh and falls into the same pattern of behavior and it genuinely concerns them – so yeah i play with that idea here! i deviate from canon some but not too much ! this is my submission for day 2 of @platinumweekend as well ! also i had no idea how to end this so i apologize for the fizzle out at the end lol

•─────────────────•

As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

She slammed the door behind her, locking it, running to the windows and closing the curtains, peeking out at the paparazzi that no doubt had already tried flocking at the edges of the blocked off area where the bus was parked.

“Damn, what’s the problem? Can’t I at least get my food from craft services? Jesus,” he complained, grabbing a bottle of water from the fully stocked mini fridge, downing it while Fiona frantically ran around the bus, turning off every electrical device in sight.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She wheeled on him, a few strands of her hair sticking to her lips. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, you won’t let me go get my fuckin’ overpriced grilled cheese that I know is waiting for me,” he jabbed his thumb towards the venue. “At craft services.”

She eyed him, pupils wide, her anger nearly palpable. “It’s bigger than food.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, some strands completely drenched in sweat. “Lay it on me.”

And the three words that fell from her lips were soul crushing, his post-show high wearing off in an instant.

“Dom’s been arrested.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He sat up, posture rigid. “What happened?”

“Not here. We’ll talk on the plane,” Fiona said, twisting the knob of the closet door, grabbing the black duffel bag on the ground. She tossed it at his feet, motioning for him to stand. “The jet leaves in an hour. I packed for you.”

“The plane? Where is she?” He was getting more and more frustrated, nearing hysterics. He should’ve felt a bit more shame about how worked up he was getting, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Fiona took notice, her fiery gaze softening at the edges, the blue flames flickering across his face. “Not here, Raleigh.”

He slung the duffle bag on his shoulder, walking to the door.

“Wait –” Fiona said, leaning over the couch to pull the curtain to the side, peering out again. “I paid off a security guard to distract the paparazzi. And when he does, we have to run to the car that’s gonna pull up any minute now – undetected,” she shot back at him, her icy gaze warning.

Within minutes, a security guard with a similar build to Raleigh sprinted towards the venue, jacket over his head, paparazzi on his heels.

With the camera’s flashing finally pointed away, they were able to slide into the back of the cab, thankful that Hank had connections everywhere. The driver rolled up the barrier without question as soon as Fiona tossed him a wad of cash that she’d fished out of a plain leather pouch.

She shook the pouch, her lips set in a thin line. “You know what this is?”

“A purse?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Is this some kind of fuckin’ trick?”

“It’s an emergency fund. Cash. Not traceable.”

She shook her head, dropping the pouch into her lap, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “When Dom first started getting into trouble, I had to pay off a few people here and there, but when it became more frequent, I had to actually sit her down with her accountant and sort this out.”

“Sort… what out?”

“How much money she needed to allocate to her… antics,” she rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the back of her seat, hand pressed to her forehead.

She looked drained. Fiona never looked disheveled, but he sensed this was the closest she’d be to it.

“If it’s money she needs, that’s fine. Lemme call my agent –”

“There’s only so much cash I can hand people under the table before it becomes a problem. Not just financially, put publicly,” she sighed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’ve been able to cover up the smaller mishaps, but this, I’m afraid, might be the start of something… much worse than disorderly conduct.”

“You gonna tell me her charges?” His jaw set in anticipation, already running through a list of the best lawyers in L.A. that got him off from potentially hefty lawsuits.

Her short locks swayed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, leaning into the corner of the cab, legs splayed wide as he tried to take a nonchalant stance. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll be glad you have a bedroom, shower, and fridge on the plane,” she said with another shake of her head.

––––

Raleigh laid in bed, aimlessly scrolling through his burner account.

He never really cared for social media under the public eye. Every post of his was either related to tour or the series of brand deals for products he never used. Each page was a personified advertisement – some shit he regretted signing up for.

One drunken night, his curiosity got the best of him and he found himself making a pretty inconspicuous profile, following some funny internet personalities and political commentators. And although he had plans to delete it, once Dom came into the picture, he unabashedly lurked.

He followed her on all platforms, and when he had the chance, he watched her stories, voted in her daily polls, and occasionally scrolled through her old instagram photos.

This time in particular, though, he was looking for something specific without really knowing if there was an answer.

He scrolled to her first post, hundreds down, smiling at high school Dom. Thick eyeliner, layered hair, brace-adorned grin – she was a poster child of adolescence.

Photos of her with Shane at pep rallies, in Halloween costumes, in prom formal wear filled the screen, later transitioning to senior portraits, graduation photos, and dorm photos. A setting of picturesque normality as Dom grew into herself, growing out her choppy layers, softening her makeup, her gleaming smile lighting up each photo.

She grew more beautiful with each year, each little phase of her life coming with a new style, a new little identity or association, Dom’s willingness to try new things the reason she was able to break free from her small town.

God, was Raleigh so fucking envious of this imperfect little portion of her Instagram. If someone were to look this far back for him, there’d be photoshoots and magazine spreads and paparazzi photos all neatly planned. The shaky off-guard photos, the unedited red eyes, the off guard photos, the expressions they made in them… it was something Raleigh never had the chance to do.

Being in the business for ten years, everything was pristine, crisp – always smiling or smoldering, no in between. Sexy and rugged or smiling and happy. Like he had two modes and he wasn’t ever able to exercise those other parts of himself because being in front of the camera was restrictive – while Dom was able to be unabashedly herself.

He was breaking shit just to feel something, to have some range of emotions even if it was a stupid fucking publicity stunt where he damaged property or made out with another politician’s daughter or attempted irreparable blows to his public image.

The more recent the posts, the more calculated her photos got, the phrase “ad” showing up more and more. But even with a skincare brand deal, her step-by-step skincare routine video was on brand for Dom, her bright smile and wit always present in everything she did.

But Raleigh couldn’t help but feel like parts of her were slipping away.

Her online persona was still pretty crisp, except for her style shift – tattoos, a couple piercings, and some edgier photoshoots signified a tonal shift in Dom’s aesthetic, but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

Hell, when he used his first innuendo on his solo album, there was widespread outrage on Sunset Skatepark fan forums, ripping into him for singing about using his dick (even though he was definitely an adult and definitely not a virgin).

But other than her general style, nothing was different. Nothing to indicate this downward spiral that Fiona kept a secret.

Where’s the shift? He thought to himself as he scrolled to the top. When the hell did she start changing for the worse?

She’d come a long way from her clean songs that didn’t require a radio edit. He felt a pang of something in his chest –– regret, maybe? Was he the reason she’d changed?

The questions sent him into a near tailspin, his pulse quickening at the realization.

He was the problem.

She’d since deleted her photos with Raleigh, because their breakup was so public, but he could tell that the shift happened right around the time she started spending more time with him.

He’d been a mentor of sorts, opposite of Avery, showing her the ropes… which meant that he was teaching her how to evade the press, fuck with the paparazzi, pick out industry plants – the whole nine yards.

She was impulsive, daring, adventurous, fearless – all the qualities he liked in himself. But he never thought those traits would take a negative turn, morphing her into a rebel with an affinity for breaking laws.

He could blame himself all he wanted, but he couldn’t blame her for taking the same route he took. 

He knew it better than anybody – it was hard to shift the public’s persona of you. Once you did something horrible to make them hate you, either the rebrands and ass kissing worked, or you get written off by everyone.

Raleigh Carrera was a special case, a wild card of sorts who toed the line, unpredictable, both with his craft and his behavior. The nastier his lyrics, the crazier his publicity stunts were, the more polarizing he was.

And that was no doubt the route Dom was on, heading towards an inevitable press nightmare – if people were to find out the home grown rags-to-riches Dominique Avalos dove headfirst into her rebellious phase with no smooth transition, she wouldn’t be able to Google herself for months without having a panic attack.

She’d changed drastically, but that’s what fame did to people. Some people cracked under the pressure, or they rebelled to show the public they were in control of their narrative… or that they desperately wanted it back.

He took a shaky breath, swiping out of the app.

He wasn’t sure if he could save her, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try.

––––

The moment the jet touched down, Fiona was in full manager mode, adamant on abandoning his phone, stressing the importance of going off the grid.

“If anyone finds out you’re here, they’ll be able to put two and two together. Why else would you be in the same country as Dom when you’re supposed to be heading towards New York for your next show?” She asked, hand outstretched.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, tossing his phone into her palm. “Where are we exactly?”

“I can’t tell you,” she sighed, looking exhausted. He had a gut feeling she hadn’t slept a wink since they’d boarded the plane.

“Why not?”

“It’s a bit safer that way.”

He scoffed. “You’re serious? Look, I’m not exactly thrilled to pull the A-List celebrity card, but this is borderline kidnapping.” 

“Let’s just say you might be able to pick up on some of the language,” she said, turning on her heel to exit the plane.

Within minutes, they were pulling onto a dirt backroad, the small houses they passed barely casting shadows onto the ground.

The town itself was seemingly innocuous – the tiny brick houses riddled with dust, the stone paths lining the road cracked and deserted. The tiny town had turned in for the night, their old Sedan sticking out like a sore thumb despite the old model.

Raleigh squirmed in his seat, twisting the expensive watch on his wrist. He fucking hated this.

No matter where he went, he was noticed in some capacity – so wearing a Rolex and Cartier rings in a small village in the middle of nowhere just made him look pretentious.

He slipped the rings and watches off, shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans, ignoring Fiona’s calculating side eye (one he knew all too well).

The only light, other than the gas lamp posts and their high beams, came from the building at the end of the road.

The car pulled around the side, flicking their lights off, the driver peeking around before motioning for them to exit the car.

“Throw the hoodie on, Raleigh,” Fiona ordered while slipping on a ball cap of her own, her casual t-shirt and leggings wildly different from her normal outfit.

“Sure,” he murmured, tugging the hood on.

The walk from the car to the dusty glass front door was short, Fiona breaking into a light jog to keep up with Raleigh’s brisk pace.

The makeshift “waiting room” in the front corner of the station was empty, the scratched up folding chairs in crooked rows. The front desk was occupied by a sleeping form, head buried in the crease of his elbow, snore muffled by the counter top.

The other officer stood at the back near an old vending machine, sliding coins into the slot, the clink of each piece ringing out against the brick and linoleum.

No cameras, he thought, after a quick scan of the room, shoving the hood back in its place at the nape of his neck.

The holding cells were farther back, but he couldn’t see her.

He stepped up to the counter where the man was sleeping, giving a gentle knock to the top. The man stirred, unfurling his arms, while the other man in the back glanced up from where he was, elbows deep in the snack machine as he fished out his bag of chips.

Raleigh offered a basic greeting in Spanish, frowning just a bit when both officers’ eyes lit up – the phrase “famoso” and “celebridad” falling from their lips almost as soon as they recognized him.

Yeah, he was gonna use his notoriety to their advantage, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when people immediately tried gauging what they could get from him when they realized who he was.

For a long time he’d been waiting for the day where name dropping himself didn’t get him out of deep shit.

And the day he met Dom, when he assumed she knew who he was, all she did was raise her brow as if to say “Why the fuck should I care?”

It startled him, truthfully. But it was such a breath of fresh air. He couldn’t remember a time before or after that someone showed no interest in him.

The officer in the back jogged to the front, pulling his phone out of his back pocket while asking for a picture.

He looked to Fiona, who was shaking her head furiously, stepping up next to him like her 5’5 stature was enough to shield him. “Nobody can know we’re here.”

He nodded, turning back to the men, trying to negotiate with them.

Yes, Dom’s here.

No, you can’t see her.

He racked his brain trying to figure out how he was gonna get himself – and Dom – out of the situation unscathed if he couldn’t give them a photo or autograph.

“Dom bought me the Rolex and Cartier rings, right?”

Fiona’s brows furrowed. “Yes. She gifted them to you on your birthday. You know this –”

“No, what I mean is, she has the receipts? Or you do?”

“I don’t have them, but I have access to them,” she said, still confused.

“Get rid of ‘em. I haven’t told anyone she bought them for me.”

Her face lit up in recognition, and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

He dug in his pockets, fishing out the watch and thin bands.

After a quick exchange, the officers took two rings each, and began rapid fire arguing over the Rolex. They tossed Raleigh the keys, stepping out the front door.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fiona said, turning towards the door.

“Hey –” Raleigh said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She quirked a brow at him. “What?”

“You’re not coming with?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say –”

“She specifically asked for you.”

He took a step back, resting his palm on the countertop behind him. “What the – are you… are you serious?”

She nodded once. “She might’ve been slurring, but she was clear as day. She wanted you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, running a hand through his short waves.

Fiona’s gaze softened, her eyes still piercing. Fiona was a lot of things – steadfast, headstrong, determined – but she wasn’t soft. She didn’t sugar coat shit.

“She’s missed you. She doesn’t confide in me much, but even I can tell she’s unhappy. Be gentle with her,” she said, gaze tearing right through him.

The walk to the holding cells felt miles long – his resolve was shrinking with every step.

He wasn’t afraid of seeing Dom, not at all. He was afraid of whatever part of himself that might’ve been reflected in her.

The cell was empty, save for the curled form on the bench, long dark hair cascading over the edges of the seat.

“Dom?” He called, hearing her sharp inhale of breath as she stirred, bending into a long stretch, her limbs unfurling until she was lying on her back on the bench, tilting her head towards his voice.

God, even when she looked like life had torn her to shreds, she still looked beautiful.

“Raleigh?” She croaked, her eyes squinting to adjust to the low lights. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She arched her back, stretching again, her long frame covering the bench. It was almost the right level of distracting to stop the creeping annoyance at her question.

“What do you mean? I’m here to bail you out, obviously.”

“Where’s Fiona?” She asked groggily, rolling off the side of the bench awkwardly, trying to gain her footing.

“You asked for me, didn’t you?” He raised a brow, sliding his forearms through the bars, resting them there.

“She told you?” She asked, voice raising in betrayal, a scoff following his silence. “I was drunk.”

“And? You still asked for me.”

 “Oh, fuck off,” she murmured, crossing her arms as soon as she was balanced.

He dangled the keys between his fingertips, gently jingling them. “I’ll let you out if you tell me what happened.”

Her lip curled in annoyance. “You’d really leave me here?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

She ran a hand through her hair, blowing air out of her cheeks. “Alright.”

He unlocked the door and slipped in, the heavy door creaking as he slid it wide enough for him to fit through.

She backed up, plopping back onto the bench, arms lowering to curl around her sides.

He followed suit, sitting a couple feet away from her on the other end of the bench, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

She stared at the floor, clearly waiting for him to make a move.

“So…”

“So, what?” She grumbled.

“So… how’d you end up here?” He asked, trying to remain as relaxed as he could since she was clearly on edge, ready to tear him a new one at a moment’s notice.

“I was drunk. I got in a fight. Here I am.”

He sighed. “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything, but I can’t help you if I don’t know if you’re ankles deep or neck deep.”

She chewed her lip, chin dipping lower, strands of her hair falling forward, creating an inky veil. “Fine. I’ll tell you but… can you not… look at me?”

Raleigh’s face contorted in confusion, but he listened, swivelling until he was facing the back wall, propping one leg up on the bench.

He waited for her to speak. The break in conversation was a bit too long – but before a quip could fall from his lips, she spoke.

“I did get drunk, and I did get in a fight. I’m telling the truth but I, uh, left out some details,” she started, her voice low.

“I, uh, was passing through this town after my last show because I wanted to go to a bar without being noticed. Like the old days. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t think anyone would find me here.”

That was her first mistake. Smaller towns surprisingly had the most dedicated fans – maybe because they’re bored or nothing exciting happened in their towns, but most of his die hard fans came from the middle of nowhere. 

“The first hour was fine, and I was able to drink and dance with strangers. Most of them were a lot older than me and spoke zero English – and I speak a little bit of Spanish as you know, so I could make some small talk, but I was on my own just… enjoying myself and my freedom,” she said, and he could almost see the grin tug at the corner of her lips.

“I noticed someone taking photos of me with their phone, so I got a bit paranoid and sat in a booth in the back drinking for a little while longer so I could figure out my next move,” she continued, before sighing loudly. “I guess they told the local news or something, because by the time I decided to leave, I ran smack into a reporter on the sidewalk.”

Silence ensued again, this time more deafening than the last.

“I didn’t mean to give her a black eye. Or break the camera. Or elbow the camera man in the face when he tried restraining me. I just… couldn’t think straight. I was mad. Intoxicated and wrong, but still mad.”

“I know Fiona’s trying her best to get me out of this mess but… I think I went too far this time.”

Raleigh stared at the wall, racking his brain for something. He was a little dumbfounded that she spilled to him so fast. He figured it was gonna take a bit more digging to get her to open up, but she blossomed in front of him; despite the wilted petals, he was relieved to know she still trusted him enough to confide in him.

“Are you gonna say something?” She asked, a bit timidly.

“Not if I can’t look at you.”

“Okay, then don’t say anything.”

He sighed, settling into his spot on the bench, waiting again for her to speak.

“Why did you come?”

Instinctively, he shrugged. “You asked me to.”

“But you don’t owe me anything. We’re not together.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t drop everything to come help you. I mean, I’d like to think we’re at least acquaintances, if not friends,” he joked, resting his arm over the back of the bench.

“Sure,” she said, voice straining just a bit. Just enough for him to notice.

Dom was a special kind of resilient – one trait that Raleigh was sure she didn’t copy from him.

He knew that being a woman in the industry was already hard enough – everything from beauty to body standards to raging misogyny was enough to give people reasons to hate her, as stupid as they were.

Raleigh benefitted from the standards in place for men. He was young, attractive, talented – didn’t matter what he did wrong. He’d bounce back.

But he’d seen some vile shit since he’d ascended to fame. So many celebrities fading into obscurity after one mishap. One bad album. One bad interview. One rude encounter. One rumor.

For some reason, despite diving headfirst into troubled waters, Dom bounced back every time, fire in her eyes, her jaw set in determination, her face painted with the look she got when she was ready to face the world.

But whatever she was feeling in that moment, in that jail cell in the middle of nowhere – was enough to break her. 

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, and he started to turn, but he felt her warm palm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He listened to her labored breathing, likely struggling to hold back tears, while he stared at the cracks in the wall, trying to think of something – anything – to console her.

“Did Fiona seem… upset?” She asked, seeming a bit nervous.

“It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest. She’s pretty intense all of the time,” he laughed, not really meaning to.

He was relieved to hear a light chuckle from behind him.

“Yeah, I figure she’s pretty mad at me. I don’t blame her,” she sighed, another break in conversation ensuing. A couple beats later, she asked, bluntly, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he answered with zero hesitation. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

She laughed again, a bit more genuine that time. “Not sure where you got that impression.”

“You wouldn’t leave me here to rot if I asked you to come, Dom. You’re not that heartless,” he teased gently, glad that things were taking a lighthearted turn.

“I’m just glad you’re not gonna lecture me. I already know I’m gonna get an earful from Fiona, not to mention the shit I’ll get from Shane and Avery. I couldn’t handle one from you.”

He grimaced. “Uh, well, you’d rather hear it from me than Fiona, right?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled under her breath.

“You know I normally don’t care what you do, because it’s your life, and you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, but Dom…” he trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I know I fucked up, Raleigh. I don’t need you making me feel more guilty than I already am,” she said defensively, voice raised.

“I’m not gonna make you feel guilty. Just offering some advice.” God, did those words feel foreign to him. Offering advice. He never did shit like this for anybody.

He took her silence as a green light. “You’ve just gotta slow down, Dom.”

Whatever impact his words made, he couldn’t see it, since he was still facing the damn wall. “Can I please turn around? I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Sure.”

He adjusted himself on the bench, trying to look attentive without staring. She was stunning, even with the smudged makeup, the dark circles, the red eyes  “You don’t have to do anything and everything you’re asked to do, but you gotta find some kind of balance.”

She wrung her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean balance the good and bad, Dom. There’s a line for people like us and you can’t cross it often. You can get close, but you can’t just dive over it and not expect there to be some fallout.”

“I know,” she said, bluntly, looking a bit more annoyed with each word that came from his mouth.

“You can cause some chaos, but some of it isn’t acceptable,” he said, watching her expression contort in anger. “For them. Not acceptable for them. The average person, I mean.”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk!” She rolled her eyes. “How are you gonna sit here and tell me that your brand of shit stirring is okay, but mine isn’t?”

“I’m not the one sitting in a jail cell right now, Dom,” he said, calmly but firmly. He wasn’t used to being the rational one, but he had to be level headed. He was trying to save her.

She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back against the back of the bench. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“You’re hypocritical.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, propping his arm up on the back of the bench. “I was in the industry for years before I started dirtying up my image. You just got here.”

“And you’ve been here too damn long to act the way you do,” she nearly spat, lashing out.

“I’m too far gone,” he simply stated, keeping surprisingly calm through it all.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, which means, I’ve got a lot more fuck ups under my belt. Irreparable damage, if you will.”

“People love you,” she said, matter-of-factly, like that solved it – it honestly relieved him. A bit of Dom’s naivete from when they first met was shining through.

“People also hate me, because I’m a little shit who sets fires for fun,” he grinned. “For legal reasons, my lawyers insist I clarify that I’m joking.”

She rolled her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “People who hate you don’t know you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, and you’re so close to the point I’m sure you can taste it.”

“I’m too far gone to save. No matter how hard I try for the rest of my career, I can never get away from the wild card label. Plenty of people don’t wanna work with me. I’ve damaged business relationships. Lots of artists don’t want to collab with me because of how it’ll make them look.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know you don’t want this. You’re too good for whatever baggage comes with being a ‘rebel’, Dom. I don’t want to see you turn out like me.”

For the first time that night, she stared at him – really stared at him. Her deep brown, nearly midnight eyes searched his for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re… serious?” She asked finally, brows furrowed in confusion.

“One hundred percent honest,” he said, nodding.

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lip, contemplating.

“Can you turn back around again?”

He nodded, wordlessly facing the wall again.

“I left out a few details,” she said from behind him.

“I’m listening,” he affirmed.

“I, uh, was pretty hammered by the time I left, so it was even harder for me to understand what people were saying,” she said before he could speak. “I heard the reporter say ‘Raleigh’ and ‘novio’ and I saw red… so… I, uh… swung.”

His chest clenched, tightening until it was difficult to breathe. He was thankful she’d asked him to face the other direction, because he knew his reaction betrayed his cool demeanor.

“I guess I’m not over it,” she laughed humorlessly.

He ran a hand over his face, racking his brain for a response, but coming up short.

“You, um, don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. It’s on me.”

That made him turn, swivelling around before she could finish speaking.

She flicked her head towards the bars of the cell, raising a hand to cover her face. “I said ‘don’t look at me’, Raleigh. Goddamn.”

Years and years of PR training and interviews and he had no idea how the fuck to console her. Partially because he was trying to get a grip on whatever the hell was going on in his brain as well.

Instead, he answered her with a question of his own, a tactic he’d used anytime he wanted to deflect in interviews.

“Why can’t I look?”

Dom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, slowly rotating to meet his gaze. She sank her teeth deep into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing the backs of her hands under her eyes, the dried black mascara under her eyes beginning to liquidate again. “Because I’m crying, Raleigh. And I don’t cry.”

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I know there’s more to it than you’re telling me,” he asked, holding up two of his fingers in a solute. “No judgement.”

She sighed, crossing the room to put some distance between them. She began pacing, taking slow steps as she spoke.

“I might’ve fucked up my career and I keep letting people down and I’m destructive because this whole fame thing isn’t what I signed up for and I didn’t think I’d cave under pressure like every other mid twenties child actor who goes through a premature mid-life crisis, but here I fucking am,” she said, nearly out of breath by the end.

His legs carried him across the room before he could think twice, pacing towards her while she strode across the room in the opposite direction.

“God, I’m so fucking stupid –”

“Stop. You’re not stupid.”

“I am,” she said, wheeling on him. “And – and I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that my manager and – and my ex –” She stopped in her tracks, rubbing a palm over her forehead, shutting her eyes.

He reached out to her, but let his hand fall almost immediately.

“My acquaintance had to fly out to a fucking village in the middle of nowhere to bail me out –” 

“Dom, stop –”

“– because I fought a fucking reporter over not being able to handle my fucking feelings –”

“Dom –”

“– like an adult with a functioning frontal lobe all because I love someone who –”

Her eyes popped open, her expression horrified. “Oh my god, I’m – I –”

She dug the heel of her hands into her eyes, dropping into a squat. “Fuck, fuck, Goddammit –”

“Did you just –”

“Yeah, Raleigh, I did. Don’t make me feel worse, alright? I know I fucked up,” she groaned from her heap on the ground.

“You just said you love me, Dom. I think I’m allowed to react,” he said, a slight teasing to his voice.

She glanced up, glaring. “Okay, then, react.”

Her gaze was fiery, her deep brown irises challenging – something else a bit more vulnerable lying beneath.

She was terrified.

He leaned down, gripping her around the waist to pull her back up, wrapping his arms around her upper back, hugging her to his chest.

She melted into his arms, relaxing and leaning into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” she murmured into his chest.

“So do you?” He asked, chin gently balanced on her head.

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, voice small.

“You don’t have to know. I don’t know either,” he said, just as earnest, feeling her tense in his arms. “But I do know that I like you enough to want you around, and that counts for something, right?”

She laughed (as genuine as he’d heard it), leaning back to look at him. “Yeah, it does.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, Dom’s chin tilted upwards towards him, their faces nearly touching.

“If this gets out, don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re a bad person,” he said, voice low. “You’re the best person I know –”

Dom closed the gap between them, capturing his lips in an intense kiss. He cupped her face in his palms and held her in place, moaning into her parted lips.

God, there was nothing that compared to kissing her. Nobody matched up. He’d made out with a lot of people since he was flung into stardom at sixteen, and no one – absolutely no one – left him in a daze like she did.

She gripped the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer, sighing contentedly against him.

The smell of her shampoo mixed with the sweet scent of her skin and the warmth of her hands and her chest flush against his – it was the next best thing to being inside of her.

He pulled back, trying to catch the dreamy, half-lidded look she always got when they parted.

“So… did you take your jet here?”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Out of context, that sounds so superficial.”

She grinned, her first genuine smile that night. “Oh, but you’re not? Hanging around a rising artist to cling to relevancy?”

He laughed, the sound reverberating off of the walls. “I really am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

“Yep. The good and bad,” she agreed, still smiling at him.

“The good?” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re literally the reason I haven’t walked out on my label and moved to bum fuck nowhere and lived off the land,” she said, shrugging. “You taught me how to have fun. You were the only one keeping me sane.”

He thought he was the one encouraging her to leap over the edge, but he was the one tugging her arm back.

The whole time he was convinced he was a bad influence, but he was doing some good – for her.

But with that revelation came the guilt at her words.

“‘Were’?”

“Well, we don’t really talk anymore. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Yeah,” she chewed her lip, stepping back, unraveling herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

That was a slap to the face. Dom rarely apologized, because if she felt she was right, she wasn’t going to budge. She was stubborn as hell.

“Huh? Why?” “I don’t want to guilt you into spending time with me… or feeling things for me,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t mean to corner you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted to come.”

She glanced up, blinking at him. “No, you didn’t –”

“I did,” he emphasized, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. “I kinda missed being forced to hang out with you. Feels like old times.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from ripping from her, this one louder than the last. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, but seriously, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Always.”

“Thank you.” With her free hand, she punched his shoulder lightly. “You’ll regret that sooner or later.”

“Nah,” he said, lip curling into a smirk. “I don’t think I will.”

––––

[cecilyneville]

the spanish princess: episode 8

“why are people watching this show if they don’t like it???”

me: 

(i mean hating on this show, not actually watching it - nothing about tsp is fun, the whole thing has been mean-spirited from beginning to end)

ruairi was good as prince henry, but as king henry? awful

“i would not come to help you” so how much more of coa being a cunt are we going to get? bc if this episode is called “peace” i assume she has to...idk...start being a bit nicer

god, fucking finally

if they want us to like catherine bc she’s finally paying attention to mary that isn’t “HMM SHE IS NOT A BOY”, they got another thing coming

catherine was horrible to everyone including her ladies and her daughter, but she’s slightly nicer now so it’s ok!!!!

“men of arran and men of hamilton” the writers have finally realised there are more families in scotland than stewart and douglas

WHY has albany kidnapped james? at first i thought it was a ruse b/w him and meg but apparently not. wouldn’t it make more sense for her to return to scotland to find that angus has kidnapped james?

it makes so much sense for ef to just ignore the fact that margaret douglas exists and keep prince alexander alive

ursula where you been all this time???

finally some semi-accurate headwear on maggie. but ONLY on maggie, not on ursula, bc if it’s anything the costuming on all three series have taught us, only old ladies cover their heads

also finally - laura carmichael is getting some decent material to work with! (relatively speaking)

bessie instructing henry fitzroy is very similar to her tudors counterpart doing the same, bc of course

comb ur fuckin hair dude

i’m not gonna lie, this latin standoff between mary & henry fitzroy is hilarious, like a 16th-century spelling bee

“there’s nothing i can give a girl” except, you know, sending her to ludlow as heirs to the throne were before her, but even that level of nuance is too confusing for fraham

“my brother is more sympathetic to her cause than he has been” this week: henry discovers the concept of divorce

“go to the king anne, smile and win his favour” yet another barely-concealed tudors ripoff

thomas more just like “maggie you’re fucked up bc your life has been so shit”

if henry is speaking about this script then he is 100% correct

oh rosa’s here! so not one but BOTH of catherine’s besties will ditch her, delicious

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, THIS IS THE MOST OBVIOUS, CLUNKY WAY TO DO IT LMAO

oh they’re going for a becket/henry ii vibe here with wolsey & henry, don’t mind this

it bothers me SO much that they keep calling maggie henry’s aunt when they never bothered to include elizabeth’s actual sisters after they put cecily on a bus (which, to be fair, was probably for the best)

i kind of recoil when people say “[insert historical figure] would be so offended by this depiction” because if someone like catherine of aragon were shown any modern depiction of herself, her head would probably explode out of confusion and horror. BUT this is so offensive to the real catherine of aragon

i would like to see laura carmichael as elizabeth of york - it’s the big brown eyes

is she doing this out of hatred for her inability to give the king a son??? what does it all MEAN emma

i mean i guess he’s hotter than angus

i know this hunting scene is supposed to reflect something from part one which i didn’t watch, but it just reminds me of the tudors s1 finale when henry and anne fucked in the woods 

also reminds me very much of the great when peter tries to drown catherine

catherine quoting deuteronomy and unwittingly confessing to consummating her marriage with arthur...CONGRATULATIONS YOU PLAYED YOURSELF

soz to sound like a broken record but the fact that people - even some actual critics - watch CH’s performance and think this is actually good acting will never not be funny to me, she’s atrocious. it’s so jarring looking at behind the scenes footage and seeing her smiling, like couldn’t you actually do this on screen? she plays catherine like the woman’s never felt happiness in her life, or any other emotion for that matter

lina’s not gonna sell catherine out and i’m so mad about it, she has treated you like SHIT for YEARS

god, she can’t even cry believingly

HELL YES MEG, DISCO INFERNO

we won’t have time to see meg’s marriage to henry stewart fail spectacularly, which is probably a good thing bc my heart would break

catherine has been absolutely VILE to lina but it’s ok bc she’s said sorry now

“i would speak with you” / “it seems you already are” LOLLLL

so funny that it’s only NOW that they’re getting french hoods of some kind, but not with actual veils because, like i said, only old dowdy matrons don’t get to show their sexy hair

WHAAAAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

i mean, i’m not surprised, given how much fraham hate anne 

“so, you’re playing anne boleyn. congrats! but you’ll only get, like, one line, and you WILL have to get your tits out”

guys she’s so upset can’t you tell

CH got a taste for holding bows on game of thrones it’s the only thing she’s good at

STELLLAAAAAA

of course meg has to actually fire the cannons rather than just train them on angus and his men, but this is very fun

surprised they didn’t point out that one of scotland’s greatest cannons was called “mons meg”

fuck this nice scene between catherine and lina! she doesn’t deserve your forgiveness lina!!!

i guess catherine’s woke levels need to be maintained by keeping her one black friend who was a slave irl

hahahaha i fucking love her

“i will always be your wife, there is nothing you can do to change that” knock knock it’s the reformation

catherine choosing to leave makes no sense for this show or for the history they’re ~supposed~ to be depicting

“you will never take my place as queen of england” KNOCK KNOCK IT’S THE REFORMATION

catherine is an old lady now so we shall signify this by giving her a gable hood

catherine she just asked if the bird was dead jesus

which it should be by now...it’s been around since like 1510??

ah yes, let’s bring back that other metaphor, the imperialism compass 

if all the disgruntled tories had their way this would be on the end credits of every episode of the crown too

and that’s all folks! let’s all be thankful that this show didn’t submit us to an absolute butchery of catherine’s blackfriars speech

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Imagine this: You are at a small party and you get bored with all the mindless chattering and gossip. You say you need some fresh air and head outside. Sighing, you place your wine glass down on a table and take off your heels. "Good evening.", a voice calls out from behind you. Your eyes meet mesmerizing scarlet. You know this man. But does he know you? "May I have this dance, my fellow outcast?" Smiling as you cringe at his words, you take his hand. (1/2)

Holy shit, Anon!

Before I start, I need to tell you that I am obsessed with this ask, and literally started mentally writing this the MINUTE I read through. Please pardon a little creative license; I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoy!

Edit 22 Oct. 2021- As a special request, there is another part to this fic, told from Gil’s perspective this time. Thank you for reading!

It isn't as hard to slip away from the festivities as it should be; everyone is already so deep into their drinks that they wouldn't really notice even if you did made an effort to announce your departure.

You take the miracle at face value however, weaving through various groups and couples to the kitchen, topping up your single glass of wine and stealing a few pieces of food.

For a few minutes, all is quiet in your little haven, only the soft lighting from the stove and a jack-o-lantern keeping you company. You finish off a few bites, and just as you're about to grab some more food, a couple stumbles through the doorway, oblivious to everyone and everything.

Deciding you would rather leave than interrupt them, you slip out the back door, closing it softly behind you.

Sunset is painting the sky in vibrant lilac and rose, birdsong still carrying across the yard. The day is still fairly warm, and you slip your shoes off with a sigh, wiggling your toes through the grass as you make your way to a white bistro set.

There are two empty chairs, and you happily take the nearest one, setting your glass on the table, happy to melt into the iron.There is nothing except the beautiful sky and a newfound inner peace. Blessed silence after all the hullabaloo and gossipmongering from the past hour.

"G'evenin'."

Dammit.

You hadn't noticed anyone else slipping outside, or hanging out in the yard. And now you'll have to make small talk again and feign interest in whatever pointless topics come up. Terrific.

Not bothering to even glance at your companion, who is already making himself comfortable in the other chair, you offer a frustrated sigh. "Hi."

"Oof. Little bitterness there."

Whoever he is, he sounds concerned, if not bemused.

Despite your irritation at having your privacy interrupted, you don your manners once more, turning to him with a smile you don't really feel. "Long night, sorry."

He hums. "That I get. More like a long week I think."

The admission and his tone have you breathing out the ghost of a laugh. "You got me there."

He's surprisingly quiet for a few minutes, seemingly just as content as you are to watch the skyscape. You find you're not nearly as uncomfortable with the company as you would have expected.

Subtly, you try to figure out exactly who he is, though the design of his mask makes it absolutely impossible. Really, the only thing you can make out are his eyes, a vibrant red you're sure are contacts.

You can't help but ogle his costume; he's dressed as if he stepped right out of a portrait, and if you didn't know better you would swear that was a genuine sapphire resting against his chest. And then there's his mask-

Scarlet eyes flicker your way, his lips turning up in a grin when he realizes you've been staring. "See something you like?"

You're far too embarrassed, yet somehow- "Jury's still out."

The grin grows even bigger, showing off the fangs that complete his ensemble. 

With how pale he is, you mentally decide, it's the perfect outfit for him.

You had thrown yours together on a whim, using a thrifted evening dress, hand-me-down jewelry, and a fake tiara you had worn a few times during your childhood. Ironically, the only part of your ensemble that was expensive is the mask itself, a custom piece that cost more than the rest of your outfit put together.

Now, sitting next to someone who looks like he stepped out of the 1800s, obnoxiously blue jacket and all, you feel a little underdressed, the feeling passing by as you realize he's discarded his own shoes and socks sometime ago.

There's something familiar about him, his slight slouch teasing at a memory from long ago. 

You would think, considering how few people are actually here, you would recognize him, would be able to figure out who he is.

But his eyes are strangers to you, his voice is... unique.

The not-knowing is more aggitating than his company, enough that it is the sole reason for your next words to him.

"As lovely as this has been, do you mind?"

There's no real expression on his face as he turns to you. "Nope. Do you?"

That was a challenge. You can see it in his eyes, heard the playful hitch in his voice. God help you, he's annoying. 

"Yes, actually." Deciding to press further, because why-the-hell not, you offer your own challenge. "You're interrupting my alone time."

"Pardon the intrusion, milady, but I'm pretty sure this is neutral territory."

"I was here first," you retort, a bit childishly.

He snorts, folding his arms across his chest, falling further into his chair, posture absolutely intended to mock you. "Were you, though?"

Dammit, he had you.

You shoot him a scathing look, one that was frankly just a little on the playful side, before folding your own arms and pretending to scowl at the setting sun.

A few more minutes pass, before you hear his voice again. "So..." he says, dragging out the sound in a pointed attempt at getting you to talk to him.

You ignore him, or you attempt to at least. It's kind of hard to do that when he's standing now, just inside your peripheral, head turned towards the heavens.

Finally realizing that you have no plans of responding, he takes another step, now more-or-less directly in your line of sight. "Why're you alone out here? Party's inside, ya know."

You level an unamused stare at his pointed question, a hint of bemusement coating your reply. "I could ask you the same thing."

He smirks, some quick, passing thing, before he hides it behind a small sip of his beer. "Touché."

Somehow, that brief exchange has revitalized you, and you take another drink from your wine, watching some birds make their final rounds for the evening.

The sky is shifting, darkening with each passing moment. And inside, the party is getting louder, laughter carrying out to you from the still partially open door.

He glances back towards the house, an odd expression on his face. You follow his gaze, almost instinctively, turning back to him curiously when you can't determine the cause of his- Discomfort? Irritation?

"You ever just want to run away?"

His question takes you by surprise, and you feel your heart constrict when his focus once more turns to you, achingly familiar eyes seemingly- haunted.

Whatever annoyance you had held previously is gone, replaced with something you don’t really recognize.

Trying to ignore it, you nearly default to the normal lie that comes with small talk, especially with strangers, but there's something so familiar about him-

You give yourself a minute to actually weigh his question, tasting different answers on your tongue. It teases you, the temporary daydream of just hitting the road, abandoning everything and everyone you know to start a new life elsewhere.

After a few moments- really, it could have been an Infinity or merely seconds- you have your answer.

"I'd be lying if the thought didn't appeal to me sometimes."

He hums, sounding somewhat detached, turning once more to study the treeline. There's a heaviness around him now, an aura that almost hurts to see.

"Something tells me it's been on your mind lately?"

He studies you for some time, and maybe it's the lighting or just the contacts, but you could swear his eyes are almost glowing. Finally he offers a small shrug, all that negativity seeming to disappear into thin air. 

"Eh. Comes and goes. Let's just say my cousin's really pissing me off."

You huff a laugh at the statement, thinking of your own loved ones inside, and how tipsy they were already when you first slipped outside. "Family, am I right?"

He hisses slightly, apparently his own form of laughter, that smile once more teasing the left corner of his mouth.

Silence reclaims the pair of you for a few more moments, and as awkward as it could have been- He's good company. After spending so long having to mindlessly chatter about the weather and ambitions, it was nice to simply breathe.

Your companion- it’s still bothering you that you don’t know his name- seems as at ease as you are, content to lean against the table as if he owns the place.

The sunlight is almost completely gone now, the waxing moon taunting you from behind a few scattered clouds painted in amethyst. The stars are not so shy, several distinct constellations already twinkling above you.

With the coming night, there's a chill creeping closer, a crispness to the air that has you sighing in contentment.

He seems to mistake the sound, eyes flashing with concern as he turns back to you. "Cold?"

Your denial is barely even formed before his jacket is over your shoulders, his lingering warmth already starting to seep into your bones.Your mouth opens in a small protest- Seriously, how dare he just assume!- but seeing how instinctively he had done it, how it almost seemed his second-nature-

Rather than offer up any protests, you sigh out a small thank you, and soon slide your arms into the sleeves, marveling at how warm the damn thing is despite how thin it is.

There is another round of laughter inside, and someone decides to raise the volume of the speakers.

Some orchestral piece is playing, a haunting melody that you felt befit a Gothic novel, a spellbinding spectrum of emotions carrying past the still opened door.

You see your companion shift, straightening his posture as he turns his attention back to you. Curious, brow raising slightly, you glance over at him, wondering at his next move.

Shockingly, he's bowing, a right, proper bow, before standing upright once more, a soft smile just noticeable. "May I have this dance, my fellow outcast?"

Oh God-

"You are ridiculous," you're laughing out, even as you take his offered hand.

He's grinning again, a playful look that fits him far better than some of the ones he's had on before. "It's all part of my charm!"

You're rolling your eyes, still smiling despite yourself.

It's only when he's guiding your hands to a ballroom position that you feel the first flickers of panic. You had been expecting maybe some swaying or just kind of shuffling, not-

"Relax, would ya?"

You meet his eyes, immediately reassured by the soft expression there, eased from that inexplicable familiarity. He isn't going to pressure you, and somehow you know he will always have your back.

"Just follow my lead; I've got ya."

You believe him. 

Despite not even knowing his name, what a majority of his face looks like, or even what accent that is- 

You believe him, and you decide to trust him.

Letting go is a strange sensation, one you're not entirely sure you dislike. He seems to know you're a novice, goes at a tempo that he can easily guide you through. Despite never having danced like this before, a few moments in you feel as if a part of you has been reawakened, the next steps coming to you before he begins to move into them.

He seems almost proud of your progress, your dance becoming more a partnership with each passing moment.

The song had shifted a long while ago- now some creepy lofi piece with samplings from a children's cartoon- yet your pace remained the same.

"So..." He puts out into the air, a pensive prompt that has you smiling.

"So," you repeat curiously.

There's another weird expression, fading away before you can analyze it. 

"What's your name?"

Maybe it's the thrill of anonymity, or maybe you're too caught up in the giddiness of your newly discovered talent. Instead of giving him a straight answer, you playfully offer: "Someone smarter than Cinderella's Prince Charming." 

Pensive, you offer an extra thought. "I know the power of a name; who knows what you'd do with it."

The comment seems to amuse him, that achingly familiar smile returning as he guides you into a dip. He hovers there for a moment, slightly pensive. "You know, Prince Charming is a lot smarter than you give him credit for." 

He's guiding you back up, his eyes glowing once you're upright again. "He could do more with his beloved's name than she could even begin to imagine."

That last line, a whisper meant just for the two of you, is digging at you, tugging at some memory buried deep, deep in your subconscious. 

There's something there, a name starting to shape on your lips-

But then he's doing that half-shrug again, dismissing the exchange entirely. "No matter. Keep your secrets, princess."

The last word was spoken with such fondness that your heart actually skipped a beat.

He barely gives you a moment to process, pulling you into a different routine that soon has the rest of the world fading away again. You let yourself forget everything else for a while; you exist only in this moment, dancing on the grass with a stranger.

Except, he's not a stranger, is he?

God help you, you know this is the first time you've met him, know that you've never interacted with this man before in your life, but you know him.

With every minute you spend with him, you imagine all kinds of moments with him- 

Laughter as he wipes chocolate cake off his cheek from an impromptu food fight, annoyance at his cousin's lecturing, the soft smile of pride as he listens to his brother's speech.

And dammit, he never even mentioned having a brother.

But the daydreams keep coming.

Holding his hand in some cobblestoned square, racing through the woods, collapsing into a freshly constructed snow fort, lazing in bed running your fingers through his hair while he reads aloud-

They're so vivid that you're starting to wonder if you lived an entire life with him already.

And God, doesn't that make you sound so ridiculous. 

You've only just met this guy, literally know maybe five things about him, and yet you're already imagining a future with him.

Life isn't some fairietale, and despite the tiara you're wearing for the night, you are not a princess. Shit like this isn't real.

But the way he's looking at you, watching you with such vulnerability and longing-

He's pulling you closer, your eyes drifting shut reflexively.

You feel his breath teasing your neck, his hand pulling you closer to him.

You-

A familiar voice is calling your name.

You barely hear it over the sound of your racing heart beat, over his. Your eyes flash open in irritation, though not at him. Never at him.

"It's not midnight yet."

Given the circumstances, the weight of his hand on your back, how tantalizingly close he is, and the inexplicable gravity you've long since stopped denying, his growl actually elicits a laugh, pained as it is.

"Sadly even the most rebellious of us princesses still have curfews."

He groans in frustration, arms wrapping around you in a hug, his forehead dropping against your own. "Don't. I-" His eyes are meeting yours again, darkened by expanded irises and still nearly sparkling for how vibrant the red is. 

"Run away with me."

It's a whisper, a plea. It echoes through your entire heart and soul, that aching a crescendo of longing and adoration.You would give anything to stay with him, would follow him in a heartbeat.

But you have a family, a job, responsibilities. You can't abandon them, even at the risk of never seeing him again.

"I'm sorry," you force out, the agony resounding from every last inch of your soul. 

You never meant the words as much as you mean them now, your own heart breaking in your decision.

You step away from him, shedding his jacket and turning away.You know if you look at him, if you see his face, if you glance at his eyes once more time-

You manage five steps before he's choking out your name. You close your eyes at the pain in his voice, but it's not enough.

He's used your name, and the sound of it from his lips, the weight of it on your spirit, it's too much for you to resist.

You're turning again, once again struck by how devastatingly handsome he is right now, how much sway he already has over you. 

Every one of his approaching steps, each more confident than the last, is increasing the tempo of your heartbeat, filling you to the brim with anticipation.

It's ridiculous, impossible.

Yet you can't lie to yourself. Not about this.

"Please."

He's barely an arm's distance away from you now, hair haloed and features shadowed from the nearby sconces. And those damned eyes-

"N-"

He's murmuring your name again, slowly, hypnotically, shaping it as if he's savoring the flavor, enjoying how it feels. 

You really want to ignore the effect it has on you, but he's whispering it again, not giving you a moment's mercy. 

"Come with me."

You're powerless to resist.

"Yes."