seesgood

[seesgood]

he tries to argue , but before he can even get the full statement out , caroline is shaking her head to refute it . she doesn't understand . she doesn't know . she doesn't need to . harrison is her person , or maybe he's even more than that at this point . he could call her at two in the morning and ask her to bring a shovel and meet him in the woods and she's pretty sure she'd still look at him the same . like she's pathetically , deliriously , hopelessly , stupidly head over heels for her friend's boyfriend . well , ex boyfriend now , she guesses . the line of thinking makes her stomach churn with guilt . guilt over how she feels , over what they did , over the fact that she's barely been able to look at audrey in the eyes since . she can still feel him sometimes . still taste him . still hear the way he'd grunted her name and spoken low in her ear and --- yeah , she needs to cut this line of thinking . stat .

he's holding her , and she's trying to fold herself into him as tightly as she possibly can . like maybe if she just wraps him tightly enough in her arms , she'll just sink into his chest right then and there . where it's warm and safe and she's always just fit . ❝ shouldn't you be on a beach somewhere ? ❞ at least that's where she's always pictured him . but maybe , maybe they're both lying here . omitting the truth to spare the other . it'll only last for so long . he's always been able to pry the truth out of her like it's as easy as breathing . or maybe she's just that mushy when it comes to him .

caroline swallows , loosening her grip on him as she drops her weight until her feet are flat on the ground again . it makes her eye-level with his chest , but that's easier for her to sugar-coat the truth . it'll at least buy her a couple of minutes . nervously , her hand slides from his shoulder to tuck a limp curl behind her ear . ❝ i uh --- i dropped out . ❞ there . she said it . ❝ it got too hard with the distance and driving and trying to keep track of everything between there and mom's appointments . ❞ her hand falls to his waist , fingers curling into his shirt , pinky brushing against a bare strip of skin at his waist that her nervous fidgeting exposes . his other question is too hard to answer , so she doesn't . tilting her chin up to look at him , caroline forces a somewhat brighter smile onto her face . ❝ how long are you back ? ❞ she catches it then . again . that slight difference in his gaze , the shadows tucked behind the familiar heat in his gaze . she wants to ask what happened to him , what dragged him back , what kept him away , what he found when he went searching --- but she's not quite sure that he'll give her the answers .

continued from ( x ) with @seesgood / carrison.

there's no way he could have prepared for this, the welcome home from her that's somehow a culmination of every single emotion he's felt in her absence. ❝ care, you don't understand --- ❞ he pauses, chokes a little on the words that he can't bring himself to say yet. she's touching him and it's like their bodies are trying to reconnect; to make up for all the time that's been lost, a collision of fingertips and palms, gripping and pulling and stroking, fighting to feel each other again. whether or not they can admit it though, they aren't those kids anymore. he isn't safe to be around her and deep down, it's something that he's always known. harrison morgan was a ticking fucking time bomb. all of that rage and fury and frustration, the desire for violent confrontation, managed effectively by wrestling, it evolved into something much, much worse. ❝ you don't know --- ❞ what i've done. who i am. how fucked up my life is. how could he even begin to tell her? how was he supposed to look her in the eyes and confess to being a monster?

burying the truth is something he'll have to live with for now because in this moment, he doesn't possess the strength to push her away. he never has. he can't let go of her, his body won't physically allow it so he succumbs to her. to the warmth of her hands, the delicate press of her hips against his, the way her hug is managing to comfort him in ways he hasn't experienced since they last found themselves in close proximity like this. harrison's arms pull her closer, his heartbeat rising in his chest when the scent of her skin, her perfume, washes over him in waves. ❝ c'mere. ❞ he wraps his arms tighter around her, indulging in the pure and blissful sensation of her presence. when she asks him if he's okay, she already knows the answer. they both do. just like he knows that she isn't okay. the second she was back in his embrace, he could sense it. her eyes didn't ever lie, even now, after all this time.

❝ shouldn't you be at college? ❞ it feels like a stupid, insignificant question, one that doesn't actually matter under the circumstances. he's assuming that she stuck to all of the plans she made back in high school; move out, study, party, enjoy single life with audrey. the thought of his ex-girlfriend doesn't even arouse any guilt. it solidifies the fact that he's no longer a good person, but was he ever? the night he slept with his best friend while his girlfriend stayed home was perhaps an even bigger indication of what kind of person he was. harrison's thumb trails lightly across caroline's bottom lip, the texture of her skin soft underneath his touch. he recalls that very night and the morning after.... how they never did get a chance to speak about any of it. he wonders if she regrets it, or if like him, it lives inside of her like a sacred oath. an understanding that their relationship meant so much more than either of them ever chose to acknowledge. you're okay. she sounds so certain that she can take control of it for him, much like she used to whenever he needed her. they threw each other a lifeline, time and time again, for anything, for everything, they were always saving each other but this, there was no coming back from it. his finger moves from her lip to her jaw, her own delicate touch through his hair and across his face allowing him to breathe a little lighter. ❝ you still trying to take care of everyone and fight their fuckin' battles? ❞ it's a rhetorical question, followed by a real one. ❝ who's taking care of you? ❞

#awalkoflife #T H E Y #this verse just really has my entire heart and soul and everythign in between and around

[seesgood]

it isn't like she expects anything more. for him to make some grand declaration and confess his undying love for her, or anything. but the reminder that he's only doing it because of his whole vendetta against tony cuts a bit deeper than she'd like it to. caroline's smile is strained, even if only for a second, before she exhales a forced laugh and rolls her eyes, flicking some of the bath water at him. ❝ you really need to get over your thing about him. he's nice. ❞ something churns uncomfortably in her gut at the comment. because he is nice, tony is... beyond nice. just the other day he walked her to the subway. granted, she'd told him she didn't need him to, and he hadn't listened. but he'd been polite about it. caroline's fingers grace up the back of harrison's neck, fingers combing through his hair, moving only to push it back away from his forehead. the water shifts as he draws her in closer and caroline smiles, genuinely this time. if this were real, she imagines he'd be like this all the time. pulling her in close, giving her that smile that speaks of inside jokes and gentle tease. he'd probably tug her into his lap and kiss her when she smiled and be the kind of guy that wasn't afraid of a little PDA. but it's not real. and he's not really hers, not in any concrete way anyway. ❝ i just need you. ❞ her chin dips, lips pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose. ❝ the boyfriend label will make it a bit easier though. less explaining. less chance that the girls from marketing will salivate over you. ❞

continued from here ( x ) with @seesgood / carrison !

he'd argue that they're as exposed as two people can be; sharing a bubble bath together, naked body against naked body, washing each other, touching each other, loving each other. there's still hesitancy though, one he can sense the instant she pulls back to look at him. it's written in those blue eyes he knows so well, the stare of uncertainty, of doubt. ❝ hot bachelor reputation? seriously? ❞ he uses her own catchphrase on her and it's a moment of role reversal that he hopes will make her laugh. ❝ we trust each other, right? ❞ harrison leans in for another kiss, letting his lips tenderly peck her for reassurance. he can feel her heart, beating solidly beneath her skin. despite the idea being his, the last thing he wants is to draw this kind of reaction from her, especially if she's uncomfortable. ❝ i just figured, since it's a work thing, tiny tony's gonna be there. ❞ brown eyes open slowly and he lifts his hand to cup her cheek, stealing a couple more kisses while he continues to swerve around the topic. ❝ kept that nickname fuckin' quiet, didn't you? ❞ it's easier to convince her that he's stepping into the role to protect her, rather than admit to the truth, a truth that echoes this sentiment --- why the fuck wouldn't he want to be her boyfriend? pressing his forehead to hers, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. ❝ but to answer your question, i'm more than okay with it. ❞ har says, keeping his gaze steadily on her. ❝ i'll be whatever the fuck you need, care. ❞

#awalkoflife

[seesgood]

lips part to tell him that she'll clean up the mess ( no one else really gets it right , see , there's a science to it , one that she's perfected after long nights of research and trial-and-error buying various products ). but if there's one person that she trusts to do it right , it's emil . and so caroline just nods . swallowing past the sudden dryness in her throat . ❝ you're not mad , right ? ❞ most people would be mad . sane people would be mad . caroline exhales softly at the stroke of his thumb against her cheek and something inside of her uncoils , tension slipping out in a breath as she looks up at him . ❝ 'cause i'll totally clean it up . ❞

@seesgood sent: ❝  i killed him but,  now there’s a mess.  ❞

gaze glances down to the aforementioned mess then back up to the woman with a calmness ( one could mistake it for passiveness ) which might seem ill-fitting ❝ i can see that. ❞ if he knows one thing about caroline, it's that messes are not in her top ten list of enjoyments. he has never met anyone as agressively neat as she is. she likes things tidy. perfect. ordered exactly in the way that makes sense. so to see her in an environment such as this—to see her amidst chaos, almost feels as if it is perverse. as if he is witnesses something that goes against nature. ❝ lets start with gettin' you cleaned up first, ❞ he reaches out a hand and brushes a finger over her cheek, wiping a speck of blood away ❝ you let me worry about the rest. ❞

#klarsynt #i'm so rusty someone help me

[seesgood]

IF SHE HADN'T KNOWN HIM SO WELL , she might have missed the double meaning in the phrase . or maybe she didn't know him so well anymore . maybe the version that she knew was well and truly dead . when steve had told her about him , he'd been careful not to get her hopes up . but that's her thing , always has been , getting her hopes up . ❝ happy . ❞ the word feels somewhat strained , thick with emotion . ❝ it was happy . we were happy . ❞ disgustingly , pathetically , naively happy . she has to clear her throat before she continues on , wiping her palms on the skirt of her dress before she tentatively lowers herself to sit on the edge of the chair furthest from him . ❝ i lived down the street from you . you were... hard not to notice , and for some reason you noticed me . ❞ caroline swallows down the surge of memories --- his arm around her waist , grin against her cheek , squealing laughter and gentle teasing . ❝ you don't remember any of it ? ❞

“BEFORE…” The word fades on his breath as he searches his memories. There are holes - he remembers falling, and pain, and maybe of a time before, but none of it is concrete. Not really. They’re more feelings and sensations than true memories, and his only choice is to choose to believe her. He’s not sure if he can do it, but there’s a part of him that recognizes that he can. Even if his brain doesn’t. “Before HYDRA.” His gaze searches her, studying, as a faint crease forms between his eyebrows. Her name rings a bell, somewhere distantly in his mind, and he hesitates, before he speaks again. “What was it like?” It’s easier to refer to himself - who he was before now - as an ‘it’ rather than an actual person. Turns his stomach a little less. “How did we…?” Meet. But he lets the question trail off, hoping she’ll supply the answers he’s looking for.

#lcstpaths

[seesgood]

harrison morgan & caroline forbes.  ( ft. @awalkoflife + @seesgood )

❝ don’t you dare tell me that it doesn’t matter i have spent years swallowing how badly i want you, trying to be better, trying not to screw up your life more than i already have. but you know what? i am so tired of pretending not to love you, it is exhausting — but you do not get to accuse me of being the kind of girl who does any of this without thinking it through. you do not get to be that guy. ❞ / ❝ you just told me that you love me. ❞ his eyes don’t leave her, not for a second. a soft exhale breezes against her lips and his hands draw her nearer once again, holding her as though she’s the most precious thing in the world. because she is. ❝ if you knew how long i’ve waited to hear you say that — you’d know it was enough. that you are enough. ❞ he tells her, so sure of it.

❝ you’re the love of my life, caroline. ❞ 

#/ carrison tag. #MY BABIESSSS

[seesgood]

❝ i mean it's not like there's been many, ❞ she's been on a few dates with women, but it mostly ends up with them thinking she's too inexperienced or new or... something. or there was the girl she was seeing for a few weeks and then she got dumped via ( extremely polite and well articulated and empathetic ) text because the girl got back with her ex and, last caroline checked, they were still posting wedding photos on instagram. but the thing with caroline is always that she's made it all seem much more glamorous than it is, and elena's one of the few that know the truth. she likes to boast about experience and romantic endeavors, but most of her dates are lackluster and most of the sex has been disappointing. she just can't admit to that. the whole thing feels a lot heavier than it should, and caroline can physically feel her shoulders drop slightly from the weight of it. but before it can get too heavy, he opens his mouth again and, well, he harrisons it. without hesitating, caroline picks up a piece of gravy laden broccoli from one of the remaining containers and tosses it at him, biting back a laugh when it hits him in the nose and leaves a little smudge of gravy there. ❝ i'm not blowing you in sab's apartment with her pervert cat watching. ❞ she pauses, wiping her hands on a napkin and setting it on the table daintily. ❝ i will in the car when you drive me home though, ❞ because she's a lady like that. and her metro card is getting low on funds and the subway this time of night is always more creep-laden than usual.

he's trying his best to keep up with her logic, but he's a little distracted by the way her eyes carefully hone in on every subtle move he makes, as he begins to get comfortable. it's part tease, part experiment when he lowers his hands to loosen his belt. his fingers are slow to unlatch the buckle and he slips it out from the hook, setting it beside his holster, all while holding caroline's gaze. he wonders if she'll fuck him right here at the table or on sab's couch or in her spare bed. focus morgan, that's not why you're here. ❝ and have you? ❞ he asks candidly, ❝ shared sex stories about the girls you've been with? ❞ an unwelcome feeling of unease arises at the thought of the blonde being with any other person in a sexual manner, but he figures it's important to acknowledge, so he buries his jealousy as best he can. ❝ that might be part of the problem, you know. if all you talk about are the men you've been with. this is literally brand new territory for elena. ❞ he knows nancy'll be doing everything she can to make her comfortable though. he also knows if the super important girl best friend talk is as crucial as caroline's making it out to be then the brunette is definitely suppressing. ❝ she'll want that too. i just think if you can't give her space to figure it out then you both need to meet each other halfway. let her know you're comfortable talking about it. do whatever the fuck it is you guys do. you've known each other since grade school. ❞ aside from being his person, she's also elena's person, which means that the two of them are already on the same wavelength, whether they know it or not. ❝ you'll figure it out, babe. stop fuckin' stressing, okay? ❞ he says, clearing his plate, before looking over at her. ❝ we done with the girl talk now? can i go back to being a man and ask for a blowjob since i brought you dinner and helped with salem? i think i fuckin' earned it. ❞

#awalkoflife #babies

[seesgood]

MOST OF THE TIME , she tries not to look . And then she tries not to look like she's trying not to look . But inevitably , her gaze always goes to where most people's do . The arm . Infamous and deadly and terrifying . She'd be foolish not to be terrified of it alone , but in this proximity , while metal fingers are curled around a cup of steaming , shitty tea , she can't help but feel curious . Caroline Forbes might be perpetually terrible at holding her tongue , but even she knows better than to ask any of the questions budding in her mind . Thankfully , his own question provides a distraction . ❝ Oh , I mean , the Howling Commandos , obviously . And your friendship with Steve . You guys basically saved entire units in the war and then there was...  ❞ The whole tragic death thing . And then later , the recovered hydra files about the experiments . Brainwashing . Much of it was redacted , but the stuff that remained was nauseating . ❝ Obviously the rugged good looks thing . ❞

❝ well don’t get your hopes up, ❞  she smiles, easing back against the couch as she watched him.  ❝ i’m terrible at making tea. it always turns out too bitter. ❞  unless, of course, she added sugar and it turned out far too sweet. either way, it never turns out quite right. his mention of expectation makes her throat tense and she swallows. maybe it’s too much. maybe she’s trying too hard. but then again, he might be half brainwashed terrorist, but he’s still half normal guy. steve’s best friend.  ❝ yeah well, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. ❞  her shoulder lifts and falls in a half shrug, eyes falling down to her lap as her nails pick at a spot on the skirt of her sundress.  ❝ i just wish i could do more, ya know? ❞  hydra did a number on him. he didn’t deserve it. but she’s no scientist, no genius mechanic. she can’t fix him. she can just…offer tea. and an ice pack.  ❝ besides, i’ve read about you. ❞  caroline looks up, smiling again.  ❝ didn’t really want to pass up the chance to meet you. ❞ 

"MY EXPECTATIONS HAVE BEEN SET," Bucky hums, voice quiet as he feels the corner of his lips twitch up in an almost-grin, before it's fading just as quickly. "I'm sure you'll have no problem exceeding the bar." He doesn't know why he says it, really - as if he wants to reassure her, this woman he doesn't even know. Maybe it's because she's trying to help him, in whatever way she can, even if it's not much. And really, for him these days, it's enough. He lifts the mug to his lips, taking a small sip as he lets the heat from it seep into the metal of is artificial hand. He can feel it, sort of, though the specifics of how his arm worked never really made sense to him. She's right, of course. It's bitter, but then again, he doesn't think he's ever had a cup of tea that wasn't. "My reputation proceeds me, huh?" Flicking his eyes over her quickly, he sucks in a small breath of air. "What have you read?" He can't stop himself from asking, even if he's not sure he'll like the answer.

@seesgood continued from here.

#typical mcu caroline is softie girlie hearteyes baby girl #supersoldier caroline is tired of everyone's shit and perpetually exhausted #lcstpaths #ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ⸺ queue.

[seesgood]

her mouth opens to deflect, or refute, or minimize, or something. the way that she always has. because he doesn't really want to hear about all of this, right? the same way that her friends don't want to hear her whine about how much she misses him, and damon and stefan always give her that blank look when she laments the fact that she didn't have enough time to study for their science test last week. but long arms are winding around her and she's tucked against a wall of muscle and limbs and home and none of her other excuses hold any water around harrison because it's harrison. she could --- has --- gone on twenty minute long tangents about how ross never deserved rachel and the whole thing is evidence of the shitty boyfriend industrial complex without so much as flinching. he listens. he cares. ❝ i'm just tired, ❞ she so rarely admits it that the words feel foreign on her tongue, but she does her best to soften them with a small smile and a nuzzle against his shoulder. ❝ i've got this history test on friday and it's pre-salvatore so i can't really leech off of him for information to make it easier. and i tanked my last math exam, which brings my whole GPA down. bonnie's in crisis but she won't admit it, jeremy is AWOL, elena's pretending to be fine and i'm trying to plan this year's decade dance but no one can agree on what decade to do and none of them are sexy enough or have good enough music and it's not like it'll matter because the whole thing will inevitably be the setting of the town's next massacre anyway. ❞ caroline exhales, winds her arms around harrison to pull herself in tighter. ❝ and i have a really hot, really tall boyfriend who i'm crazy about but i barely ever get to see him. ❞

when he looks at her after sex, he doesn't just see the girl that he's in love with. when he looks at her, harrison morgan physically shifts; his senses are no longer just his senses, they're hers. every exasperated inhale that she tries to downplay, the tight pull of blonde locks atop her head, tiny fragments of mascara under her eyelashes that are beginning to irritate her, he can feel it all. ❝ hey ---  ❞ he slowly trails his finger across her cheek, tucking a singular, stray curl behind her ear. ❝ college can wait. what's going on? ❞ if there's one thing he's learned about caroline forbes over the years, it's her ability to perform well under pressure. through everything, she's held it together, remained headstrong and calm with a side of sass, just to take the edge off. ❝ babe. ❞ he says it to centre her, lowering his hand to rest on top of her thigh, providing instant warmth. brown eyes light up under the glow of the moon, almost full, shining in through her bedroom window and he pushes the tray of food away to pull her closer to him. ❝ i'm sorry i waited so long to come home. i fuckin' hate it. being away from you, not getting to see you everyday, not being able to do this whenever we want. i didn't wait this long for you to wait this long. truth is, i'm fuckin' miserable without you. ❞ the separation wasn't good for either of them and he could only surmise that his absence had contributed to part of the stress she was experiencing right now, a fact he hated himself for because he should have known better. ❝ also, just 'cause i've rearranged your insides and know what you look like naked now, i'm still your best friend. the same best friend you can cry to and bite, when the mood strikes that is. ❞ he teases, referencing their former relationship, the one that led to this, the friendship that made him fall in love. ❝ so, talk to me. ❞ he encourages, trailing his fingertips from her thigh to her waist, holding her gaze just as delicately.

#awalkoflife #ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ⸺ queue.

[seesgood]

it's your wedding. she's not sure if he intends for it to land like a punch to the gut, but it does. and it takes the wind right out of her lungs with it. because that's the issue, isn't it? somewhere along the way, it stopped being their wedding. and then for a brief moment, it was hers. and then it was his. and now it's basically his family's next excuse to flaunt their wealth and influence and impress all their rich snobby friends by overcompensating for the fact that their precious son is marrying is lowly commoner. --- and okay it's a bit dramatic but, it feels true most days.

did she do the dishes? it should be enough to send her hurling into another flurry of anger, but maybe by now the anger has burnt away. or maybe it's the tone of his voice --- not quite accusatory or expectant, but simply curious. either way, it draws her gaze up to him and for the first time in what feels like ages, caroline actually looks at him.

that mikaelson brand of angular, sharp features. rich brown eyes, hair that always seems just a little too something ( long, wild, unruly, cropped, floppy --- she used to have this theory that he did it on purpose, just to enact small signs of rebellion. back before he started to cave to every one of his parents' whims and desires ). he's handsome in the way that it hurts to look at, but that's only the surface of it. beneath is cutting, dry humor, jokes murmured low in her ear with a smirk that makes his eyes spark. they used to sit at bars --- with her knees turned towards him and one of his feet propped on the rung of her chair --- and quietly make up theories about people. he's smart in a way that not many people see, witty and charming and so goddamn intoxicating that when she thinks back on their relationship, she can't quite decide if he's more quicksand or tidal wave.

and the way he asks her that question just makes her think of other things. like before, when they'd be crammed into her old shitty apartment and she'd ramble, stressed beyond belief, scrubbing every inch of the apartment while she worked out her frustrations and he'd be right ahead of her, clearing surfaces for her to scrub or propping trash bags by the door to take out without being asked. she had a pattern to it, and he's the only one that ever noticed. kitchen first, then laundry, then the bedroom. hallways and common areas, floors then surfaces. tidy then scrub then disinfect. but always, the kitchen comes first. ❝ yeah, ❞ it's quiet, halfway between resigned and pained because he had to ask. which she'll just chalk up to further evidence that somewhere along the way, they forgot each other. or maybe they forgot themselves. or maybe they just forgot everything.

it must be fatigue that gets to her, or maybe it's bleachy cleaning fumes, but she can't quite ignore him right now the way that she wants to. ❝ hey, do you think --- ❞ it's not so much that she doesn't know the ending of the question, it's just that there's so many possibilities that they clog on the back of her tongue. do you think you could hold me? do you think we could call a truce? call it off? do you think you ever really loved me? or maybe you could tell me when you stopped? do you think your parents would mind if i dyed that hideous dress they made me buy bright red? do you think maybe, possibly, in some kinder version of reality, there's a version of this where the both of us come out unscathed? ❝ the dishes. ❞ coward. her hand lifts to brush against her nose, her ring finger still bare from where she tugged the offending ring off earlier and hurled it into her nightstand. ❝ they should be dry. do you think you could put them away? ❞

#polymusepotion

[seesgood]

if years of life have made one thing abundantly clear, it's that nothing is ever clear. it used to be so simple in her mind. there was light and dark, good and evil, pure intentions and vile intentions. now, everything is so muddled. so complicated. if she were any lesser of an optimist, it might make her despise humanity. instead, it just fascinates her more. she could travel this world a hundred times and then start all over again and still not understand it. she could witness the best and worst of humankind and still somehow be hungry for more. it was, after all, what she wanted all those years ago. freedom. a life untethered. and he did give it to her, no matter the cruel stipulations that he put on the bargain.

some days she still hates him for it. the days when she sits in a public places and watches life pass her by, knowing that she'll never be able to touch it. the nights when she watches people greet their loves with familiarity and relief and she years so deeply for the sound of her own name that she almost calls for him right then and there to give up. despite it all though, stubbornness continues to rule out. curiosity prevails.

as he speaks, her fingers trace idle patterns along his chest. old constellations, mostly. stars that she sorely misses the sight of when she's in a city like this. his words cause a heaviness to pool in her chest and a vice to close around her heart and her finger stops along with her breath. it was easier when he was simply a villain. evil spirit or vengeful god. all powerful and uncaring. life has been so much more confusing and infinitely more complicated since she realized that was never the truth of him. times like these, she almost opens her mouth to ask him --- beg him, maybe --- to release her. just a little. let them say her name, let them remember her, just for a moment. but she's too afraid that if she voices it, this version of him in her arms will turn to smoke and it'll all have just been a ploy. another one of his games. another attempts to bend her to his will.

instead, caroline turns her head to kiss his chest. ❝ you're a romantic. ❞ it's not surprising, given this is the man who greets her every year on their anniversary as if he's celebrating a lover. ❝ how often do you watch them? the ones that make deals? ❞ how often has he watched her? tucked into the night itself, as difficult to discern as smoke at dusk.

#polymusepotion

[seesgood]

lia i missed u sm 💙

will you pls enlighten the dash on what you read???

oh my friend, my lovely love, apple of my eye, you have no idea what you ask of me ---

so right now i'm reading from blood and ash ( bc of @polymusepotion ), but i've also read:

you, again - kate goldbeck

too many sports romance novels

fragile threads of power - v.e. schwab

the quiet tenant - clemence michallon

fourth wing - rebecca yarros

killing me - michelle gagnon

divine rivals - rebecca ross

butcher & blackbird - brynne weaver

assistant to the villain - hannah nicole maehrer

and those are just the ones in the past 3 months that have given me considerable "i miss writing things" brainrot

#the thing is like #if i'm alone with my thoughts for more than ten seconds at a time #i think i will implode! #heartsbreaking #i love me some nico tho i missed u

[seesgood]

"lia you can't just log on every time you read something and develop a new hyperfixation and then disappear for 2 months at a time"

🏃🏽‍♀️ lolz bet

#ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs™ ﹗ ʙʏ ʟɪᴀ ⸺ ooc.

[seesgood]

it's the third time she's listened to sabrina's voicemail before she calls back and, well, the only reason that she does is because she's tired of wearing a hole in her rug from pacing. tyler and harrison are fighting. and, judging from the beating tyler's face took, it's serious. harrison is skulking. last week she saw the former mrs. morgan slipping out of their apartment, and the worst part about it is that elena's finally out and proud and she's too in her head to really appreciate it. the phone connects mid-ring and caroline doesn't even wait for sabrina to speak before she talks, ❝ do you still have those pink fuck-me heels i made you buy from that boutique we went to last month? ❞ if there's a slightly manic edge to her voice, she's content to ignore it. both she and sab are freaking out, and she's pretty sure it's for similar reasons. ❝ also, will you be my date for tonight? ❞ if both she and sabrina are going, then tyler and harrison won't be far behind. she would never ( like, literally ever ) use elena's coming out party as an excuse to parent trap their two dumbass, testosterone friends and make them work their issues out --- but killing two birds with one stone would be a majorly missed opportunity, right? outside her room, she can hear nancy and elena talking softly, and caroline closes her eyes, ignores the painful squeeze of her heart at the longing of what they have. ❝ i'm still at lena's. can you come here to get ready? i'll just... call in sick to my work thing. ❞ or she'll text harrison that chicks come before dicks and if he wants to see her, he can oil up his chest and leave his toxic masculinity at sab's with his sidearm.

❝ care, you can't not come tonight. listen to me, harrison's been crashing at my place for the past week. he won't eat anything. he's not sleeping. the spirits aren't even coming around because his aura is giving off all of this whack, black juju energy. i don't know where he is right now, i'm hoping with you, but he's not okay and neither is tyler and honestly, neither the fuck am i. ❞ she's pacing around in her apartment as she talks to her best friend's voicemail, wishing she would just pick up the phone already. by now, sabrina's heard all about tyler and audrey's little tryst. her own emotions are in disarray because of it, but for the sake of their friend, she knows they all need to move past it. if only for one night --- it's elena's coming out party and all of their own shit can wait. it has to. ❝ if it were anyone else in the world, i'd say forget it --- but it's not. it's elena. this is her night, and she needs you there. plus you're like the biggest barbie out of all of us. so please, call me back and come out with us. ❞ sabrina sighs, glancing at salem who is looking at her as though they all should know better. ❝ and if you see har, please tell him he left his gun here. it's freaking me the fuck out. he knows i don't like it. please just --- just call me, care. ❞

#i love them all more than life itself #awalkoflife

[seesgood]

candiceking: 📸 Champagne problems 🥂

#ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪʀʟʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴏʟɪɴᴇ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ ⸺ visage.

[seesgood]

before him, sex was sex. it was fine. it was fun. occasionally, it would bring about a release. before him, her best was probably tyler --- who, in his teenage years, was still sort've just pawing around trying to figure out what went where. before har, it would take a concentrated effort for her to keep her mind in the game long enough that she could actually get something out of the act. but with har, she's pretty sure a nuclear bomb could be set off somewhere and she'd still be right here, heels scraping against the ground as her legs twitch restlessly, fingers knotted in his hair, sounds that she doesn't even know how to describe slipping from her lips. she practically preens at the praise and if it were possible, she'd have melted further against him.

❝ please, ❞ she doesn't care how desperate she sounds. she is desperate. ❝ please, please, please baby --- ❞ her head falls back against the wall and her shoulder blades arch off the bricks as she feels herself slip into orgasmic bliss. with a strained cry, her head tips forward so that she can look down at him, hair falling down around her face as if framing the perfect sight of him there on his knees before her. the sight makes her finally understand why guys are always so obsessed with blow jobs. still trying to catch her breath, caroline moves her leg so that her knee nudges impatiently against his side, her hands already grabbing the nape of his neck to pull him up and sear his mouth to hers. ❝ are you gonna fuck me here or in the car? ❞

he pretends not to hear her say it, purely because she's halfway to being shitfaced drunk. at this precise moment in time, he isn't certain that she's fully aware of what the fuck she's talking about. the rush of dopamine that floods his brain is something that can't be ignored as easily though. if anything, part of it scares him --- how fucking happy that one word makes him; boyfriend, the guy that belongs to her. he considers the possibility that there's a part of her that might want him to be, despite how intoxicated she is. maybe if things were different, or if timing ever decided to be on their side for once, it could be their reality. still, nancy's words haunt him, as he trails his tongue across the most intimate part of care's body. you’re not gonna fuck this up, are you? he's almost positive he already has. why else would they be fooling around in an alleyway? hiding their secret life together from their friends?

in order to quiet his thoughts, harrison groans against her centre, flicking his tongue in eager, paced laps across her clit. she tastes fucking perfect and the hit is even more delicious combined with the high from the lines he's been taking all night. a small group of passers-by drift by the alley, glancing toward the shadows they make, which only prompts harrison to work a little quicker, not relenting for a second. above him, he steals a glance at caroline, sliding two of his fingers inside of her to ensure that she's distracted only by him and not by the strangers on the opposite side of the wall. ❝ you're being so fuckin' good for me. ❞ he keeps his movements steady, not stopping as he looks up at her, a devilish grin visible on his features from the lowly lit streetlamp. ❝ you want me to fuck you, babe? ❞ what he wants, is to be the only man in her life who can make her feel like this. whether or not the sober version of herself is ready for him to admit it, harrison wants to be her boyfriend. right now, as far as he's concerned, while he's down on his knees, using his mouth and his hand to give her pleasure, he'd like to think that he already is. in an alleyway, in the small hours of the night, doing what they're doing, he fucking should be her boyfriend.

#at least she gives options #awalkoflife #nsfw

[seesgood]

her job description never intended to include body disposal or crime scene clean up. granted, she’s never had a job description to begin with. he saved her life, she figured she was too much of a liability for him to keep alive — what with knowing his full name and seeing the inside of his apartment and all — and she figured if she was going to be a liability, she might as well be useful. he’d grouchily let her do research for him. locating targets, identifying easy access points, helping out with the odd alibi when it was needed. this aspect — the blood and guts and gore of it all — came more out of necessity than anything. it wasn’t that he was bad at cleaning up his messes, it’s just, well, she does it better. now she knows the best types of cleaners to buy and where to scrub so she doesn’t miss any bit of blood spatter and she even knows the best ways to stage a crime scene; although that one probably came from her mom bringing work home with her so often and less ve cause of sebastian.

caroline glances down at her gloves and bites back a smile, undeterred by his moodiness. ❝ the other ones still smelled like sewer. ❞ and these are cuter. caroline sighs heavily as she sits back on her heels, eyes scanning the scene as her mind works. he could do this on his own, she’s sure. most of the time he does do this on his own. but that’s the second time he’s done the forehead thing in the several minutes she’s been here, which means he’s at least a level three exhausted.

with a small frown of disappointment, caroline tugs her cleaning gloves off, tossing them into the duffel she dropped by the entrance when she first came in and pulling out a fresh box of vinyl disposable gloves. staging usually means less cleaning and more detail work. tugging out a pair of gloves for herself, she tosses it to sebastian for him to do the same. then, she pulls out a pair of old worn workbooks, mens, a size and a half smaller than his and well worn on the heel ( as if sebastian moran would ever be heavy footed enough to make such an imprint ).

❝ make a trail with these from the puddle here towards the door — i’ll start on the rest of it. ❞ staging a robbery gone wrong will be the easiest course of action. if they had more time and he wasn’t already at a level three exhausted, level seven grump, she might have gone with something a bit more creative — but sometimes the simplest option is really the best one. ❝ you’re okay, right? ❞ it’s not like him to be caught off guard. and yeah, the sight of him now covered in blood, some of it now smeared on his face, is as jarring as it is disconcertingly hot, but his irritation gives the impression that this wasn’t the plan. ❝ ‘cause i can take care of this if you want to go home. i can just meet you there after and we can…debrief. or whatever. ❞

caroline.​

The door is already unlocked when she gets there. Picked, she’s guessing — unless this guy is really that much of an idiot. Nevertheless, by the time Caroline shoulders her way quietly in and peruses the scene before her, she knows that this evening’s job didn’t go quite as planned. If it had, she wouldn’t be here. If it had, she would have gotten a slightly less grumpy text from her boss and she wouldn’t have brought the big bucket of cleaning supplies that is now landing on the ( very bloodstained ) rug with a soft thump. The body ( if it can even be called that anymore ) is still a few feet away, head pulverized in, figure barely recognizable. ❝ Basher indeed. ❞ Caroline mutters to herself as movement catches her attention in the doorframe leading to what she knows is the kitchen ( she’s the one that found the blueprints for the place, and then sweet-talked the contractor into giving her a tour of the newly renovated flat two weeks ago so she could take pictures for the boss ).

Caroline’s gaze starts at his shoes, noting the few blood spatters there and new scuff marks, slowly starting her perusal upwards as she tugs on her daisy patterned cleaning gloves. There’s more blood on his pants, his shirt is ruined beyond what her stain-removal skills can fix. His arms — toned and tanned and just flexed enough that her stomach flutters at the veins there — have several new scratch marks on them. By the time she gets to his face, she already knows the look she���ll get. Exhausted. Grumpy. Tired. And ( when she’s feeling just a bit more delusional and pathetic ) a look that might almost be affection or relief at the sight of her.

❝ Susan called. ❞ Caroline states casually, reaching up to tie her hair back as she steps around the growing blood pool. ❝ Said you haven’t been texting her back. Oh! And I got a new stash of body bags ordered from that guy I know. They’re the good kind, no more leaking this time, I swear. ❞ There’s a disconcerting smear of blood on his throat and it pulls her attention to the taught muscles there for a moment and Caroline swallows. ❝ I take it tonight didn’t go as planned. ❞ Somehow, her eyes have involuntarily traced down the line of his arm, following patterns of ink and settled on the blood on his hands and the few new splits in his knuckles. The now familiar mantra repeats so insistently in her head that she’s worried it might pass through her lips one of these days. Blood isn’t sexy. Her boss covered in blood is not sexy. Blood covering her boss because her boss just killed someone with his bare hands isn’t sexy. ❝ Do you want staged, disappeared, or disposed of just well enough that he’ll be found in a few months and they’ll need dental records? Otherwise I’ve got this new person at the crematorium — she’s super cool, goth but super chic, I’m thinking of trying to set her up with Bonnie — she doesn’t ask questions and she’s very accepting of bribes. ❞ / @polymusepotion + because it’s living rent free in my head and i needed an outlet.

he goes to press his palm to his forehead, something he usually doesn’t even realize he does when he’s exceptionally exhausted. but the sight of the blood covering his hands forces him to stop. fuck, he’s covered in this shit. probably a disgusting sight for his assistant to see. he doesn’t want to scare her -- a foreign concept, for fucking sure -- so he does his best to hold in the growl that wants to roll through his chest and up his throat at the mention of tonight not going as planned. no. it definitely did not go as planned.

any other night, he might be begrudgingly happy to see her. hell, if he’s honest with himself, which he manages only sometimes, he’s happy to see her now. things always feel manageable with her around. it stops feeling like it’s him against everyone else. she, at least, is on his side. he doesn’t understand it. doesn’t deserve it. but he’s the bad guy, so he’s used to being selfish. and with caroline forbes, he’s as selfish as they come. 

her voice, rambling on as she’s wont to do, is a balm to the aches he feels. the stinging cuts on his arms. but with her presence comes a different kind of frustration, one he’s been infuriatingly incapable of putting a name to since she started working for him all those months ago.

when he’s certain he has his temper under control and the headache that’s throbbing behind his eyes suppressed enough he can fucking think, he runs back through all the things she’s said to him. susan. body bags. dispose of body.

“i’m pissed enough, i want to say just fucking burn. it. but that’s not the job. not this time.” still, despite the condition he left the body, they can make this work. “i need to clean my skin from under his nails. and he needs to be divested of my blood.” he looks again at his knuckles. all of these things, these routine procedures, she knows. of course. “but we have to go with staged this time.” she usually knows this stuff, but even he didn’t know until he was in the damn house -- the silent alert part of the reason why tonight didn’t go well. he’d looked down at the alert on his watch when it vibrated, it was a moment of a glance, but when he looked back up, this idiot was standing there, beer halfway to mouth, gaping at him like he couldn’t believe a stranger would be standing in his house. but that’s what happens when you piss off the wrong people.

“you should have let me know you were on your way.” his words are sharper than he means for them to be -- he’s glad she’s here, really. and hell, maybe she did if he missed texts from susan. he’d text caroline to tell her everything was a fucking mess and he never wanted to work for this client a-fucking-gain, but he’d shoved his blood-smeared mobile back in his pocket afterward and tuned everything else out.

his hand goes to his forehead again, and this time he doesn’t think to stop it, smearing more blood across his face. the corner of his mouth tugs a little in an upward curve. “new gloves?”

#polymusepotion

[seesgood]

@polymusepotion

Last Moment of Clarity (2020)

#ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴋɪssᴇʀs ⸺ sh. / polymusepotion ( sebastian. ) #polymusepotion