Alessia Russo
“You can’t leave me like this!”
alessia russo
"you're not seeing less tonight?" your room mate asked in surprise as you appeared in your living room in your pyjamas. "no she has a big game tomorrow, part of our agreement is that she gets a good nights sleep beforehand. otherwise we stay up talking for hours and i get the blame if she plays bad!" you chuckled collapsing onto the sofa.
the two of you bickered about what to get for dinner for awhile until you eventually settled on chinese, your roommate stepping out to call and order as you browsed through your shared netflix to watch list.
"rom com?" you called out, the girl giving you a thumbs up as she continued to order, ending the call and joining you again on the sofa. the two of you agreeing on a movie you patiently awaited your food to arrive, commentating through the film to one another as usual.
but no sooner had you paid and thanked the delivery driver did your phone ring, your girlfriends contact popping up as you shoved a spring roll into your mouth and clicked accept.
"hi baby!" you greeted once you'd swallowed your mouthful, nodding as your roommate dished you up a plate adding in a little bit of everything. "lessi whats wrong?" you asked, her lack of returned greeting causing you some concern.
"can you come over please?" the girl requested as your eyebrows furrowed. "why whats happened?" you stepped out of the room as your roommate gave you a questioning look and you dismissed it with a wave.
"theres an intruder."
"what!"
"yeah, can you just come over please?"
"of course love i'll call the police on my way. are you safe??"
"police? i don't need the police." alessia spoke as you paused, frown deepnding even further. "lessi im a little confused here." you entered your room and shrugged on a puffer over the top of your hoodie.
"a spider babe, theres a huge fucking black spider and i need you to come kill it please." alessia clarified as you sighed in relief that there was no real danger. "just hit it with a shoe less you've got about a hundred pairs." you chuckled, pausing with one arm in and one arm out of your puffers.
"no! please baby its massive like im talking enormous and its in the bedroom so i won't be able to sleep!" alessia whined much to your amusement, the taller girl often boasting how much stronger and faster she was than you and making fun of your notable height difference.
"thought you were just so big and strong and athletic babe? euro winner can't kill a little itty bitty spider?" you cooed mockingly, shoving your other arm in your jacket. "shut up! just get here and help me please." with that the call beeped that she'd ended it.
"just put mine in the fridge, i'll be back in an hour tops." you sighed to your roommate quickly catching her up on the call as she let out a laugh, wrapping up your plate for you as you called out goodbye and grabbed your car keys.
ignoring the three calls from your girlfriend you drove over to her flat which was about twenty minutes from your own, pulling up in the driveway to find her stood on the front steps with her arms wrapped around herself.
"alessia its freezing are you stupid?" you huffed at her lack of clothing as she rolled her eyes. "all my jackets and hoodies are in the bedroom." the blonde frowned as she let the two of you into her place, taking your puffer for you.
"right. where is it then?" you sighed tiredly, stomach rumbling as your girlfriend handed you a shoe and a can of bug spray, pushing you toward her bedroom. "thanks babe." you grumbled flicking her a glare over your shoulder.
carefully pushing open her door you stuck your head in and looked around, stepping properly inside with a frown as you looked around but came up empty handed.
"it's gone." you shrugged returning to where your girlfriend sat waiting on the sofa. "you killed it?" the striker perked up with a grin, balling your hoodie in her fists and tugging you down on top of her. "i love you i love you i love you i love-" she started to kiss all over your face making you blush.
"no baby, it's gone as in i can't see it anywhere." you clarified as she stopped, pushing you to sit up with legs straddling her hips. "what! well go look for it then." the blonde ordered pointing back to her room with a huff.
"no! alessia its probably gone back outside again, i am not turning your entire room upside down to look for a spider. i love you very much but i've got dinner waiting for me and i'm starving." you leaned down to kiss her sweetly before standing up off of her.
"you can't leave me like this!" your girlfriend hurried after you, snatching your keys off the hook and holding them out of your reach. "less!" you groaned, smacking her chest and stretching for them but it was a fruitless task given she easily stood head and shoulders taller.
"you can't leave me alone what if its just waiting for you to leave before it appears again?" alessia challenged with a raised eyebrow. "its a spider alessia i don't think its got a personal vendetta against you." you chuckled, keys still held out of your reach.
"what if it comes back though? i'm not sleeping in there with it in hiding!" alessia decided firmly as you sighed and dropped your arm. "then sleep on the sofa baby, please gimme my keys im hungry!" you groaned, poking her stomach with a hufff.
"good. you can stay here tonight and i'll cook you something now while you go look for that little eight legged intruder." alessia dropped your keys on top of her book shelf well out of your reach. "what? no!" you protested, trying to reach for the keys.
"yes. or you leave the spider to its business and we sleep on the lounge together." you let out a yell as your girlfriend suddenly grabbed you, hauling you over her shoulder and wandering to the kitchen.
"you know this display of athleticism really doesn't do anything to erase the fact you're scared of a tiny weeny spider and forced me to come over and kill it." you smacked her behind before she sat you down on the counter.
"well you didn't even do that, some girlfriend you are." alessia sighed with a shake of her head as she moved to look through her refrigerator to cook you something as you scoffed at her comment.
"where you going? you can't leave love." alessia chuckled with a smug smile as you narrowed your eyes.
"i'm gonna go and catch that spider and then i'm gonna throw it on you while you sleep."
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I was reading this post's comment section and saw people having an argument about who's the narrator of MDZS - I don't know the MDZS fandom very well but there seems to be a consensus that Wei Wuxian is the narrator of MDZS? To quote someone in the comment section, "although the flashbacks are narrated by an omniscient 3rd person, the present is narrated by WWX and everything stated as facts should be interpreted as his own thoughts." I'm not sure I agree because while WWX is the protagonist, he's not the narrator. I feel like Chinese novels and English novels are different in this aspect because readers of English novels are used to identifying fictional characters as narrators and attributing statements in the stories to certain characters' perspectives; but in Chinese novels, no single character needs to be the narrator, sometimes the author would just randomly insert their own opinions in the middle of a fictional character's point of view, and sometimes what people take to be a character's thoughts are really just the author's own voice.
I noticed this issue before in a post I saw about TGCF chapter 112. Chapter 112 contains the observation "in the future, there might be a heaven official who ascends while using the toilet, and that would be a sight to see", which the post takes to be Xie Lian's thoughts. I think the person who made the post assumed the observation is from Xie Lian's pov because they see Xie Lian as the narrator, but there's no indication that the line is from any character's perspective - in fact, it's just MXTX's own observation which she inserts into the plot and which intrudes on the characters' dialogues.
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The Sweetest Con
Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.
She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.
Read on AO3
Five years earlier:
She wasn’t used to Georgia’s humidity.
Nesta never wanted to get used to it. Standing just outside the little white house that now belonged to her, Nesta wiped sweat from the back of her neck. The town was small—no more than a couple thousand people, if that. No big buildings, no major downtown, and worst of all, no Chinese food. Not unless she wanted to creep closer to Atlanta and given that Nesta’s car was a piece of rusting junk built a full decade before she was born, she doubted she’d make it.
So much for being a hot shot lawyer.
Nesta dumped her bag just inside the white picket fence, ignoring the peeling paint and splintering wood. It was the kind of place Elain would have thrived in. With a sigh, Nesta turned her back entirely on the overgrown yard and began walking along the only road in the town to the center—aptly named Main Street.
There was practically no one out. A few older woman walked with looped arms down the sidewalks while a harried mother pushing a stroller made her way toward the only grocery store. Nesta made her way toward the marble carved library, taking the steps one at a time despite the unrelenting sun overhead.
The air inside was ice cold and empty save of two women who were quietly talking to each other. One of them—the red head—clearly worked there given she was behind the desk. The other sat perched on the counter, a book in her lap. They had been clearly talking with some animation though now that Nesta had intruded, the pair stared with wary suspicion.
Nesta hadn’t come to make friends. Lifting her chin with all the haughtiness her mother had instilled in her, Nesta marched toward the shelves lined with fantasy and romance and began reading the jackets.
She needed a distraction. All she could think about lately was what would happen if Rhysand ever found them. Surely he was irate…he’d be out for blood. They’d flat out lied, pointing the finger straight at the notorious mafioso and the feds, in their eagerness to put him away, had overlooked all the evidence suggesting otherwise.
But Rhysand would know.
And Nesta wanted to forget him. Mobsters lived short lives, besides—in a year, he might be dead and the whole thing over. She could keep herself busy for that long. So long as the library kept books on the shelves, Nesta could find something to do.
She brought them to the front desk where the red head and the dark haired woman waited. “Library card?” The woman’s name tag read Gwyn.
“No,” Nesta said, fishing out her new drivers license. Agnes Smith. Sure. That sounded real. “Here.”
Gwyn eyed it for a moment. “You don’t look like an Agnes.”
“Tell that to my mom.”
Gwyn began typing on her computer, glancing at Nesta’s ID. “Emerie,” the dark skinned, dark haired woman said with a friendlier smile. “I think you look like an Agnes.”
Gwyn rolled her eyes.
“You should come by the general store,” Emerie added, glancing at the ID for Nesta’s address. “You moved into the old Brandon house.”
“Grizzly murder happened there,” Gwyn said seriously.
“Did not. He died of all old age,” Emerie said quickly. “It’s been run down for a while. I’d be happy to help you out.”
“Do you like women?” Gwyn asked suddenly and bluntly.
Taken aback, Nesta said, “Um…not really—romantically, anyway.”
Emerie sighed. “It was worth a shot.”
Nesta almost blurted out that she’d still take friends before she thought better of it. No need to be defensive or obsessive. “Where is everyone today?”
“It’s ten am,” Gwyn said.
“They’re at church,” Emerie replied when it was clear Nesta didn’t understand.
“But not you?” Nesta questioned.
Gwyn handed her ID back, along with a white library card bearing her pretend name. “We aren’t welcome.”
“Why?”
Emerie grimaced while Gwyn scanned Nesta’s book. “They think I’m a homewrecker…and Emerie likes women. Openly.”
“Fuck them,” Nesta said without thinking. It was the first smile she’d seen from Gwyn—a small, half formed thing, but a smile all the same. “We should start our own religion.”
“That sounds like blasphemy,” Emerie teased.
“It sounds like witchcraft,” Gwyn added, pushing Nesta’s stack of books toward her. “I’m in.”
Which was how Nesta found herself hosting brunch that Sunday with two strangers in a house that didn’t belong to her.
PRESENT:
“Who is that?” Emerie asked, sitting on Nesta’s front porch holding a sweating glass of iced tea.
“He’s not local at all,” Gwyn agreed, lowering her sunglasses to take a look at the tall, muscular man making his way toward Nesta’s gate. Wearing mirrored shades and a suit that was bursting at the seams, he looked like he was playing dress up as a cop.
His dark, wavy hair half pulled in a bun didn’t seem regulation, for one. But something about him seemed off somehow.
“He one of yours?” Gwyn questioned. Nesta had long since betrayed the secrecy she’d been sworn to, telling her friends everything but the most critical piece of truth in order to protect Feyre.
Nesta scratched her ear. No, this man was definitely not one of hers.
“Want us to stay?” Gwyn asked, likely thinking about the shotgun mounted in the back of her pick-up truck.
“I can handle him,” Nesta assured them. Gwyn and Emerie stood, leaving behind their cups to slip from the yard. Gwyn nodded at the man once, lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. That left Nesta standing at the top of her porch steps wearing a butter yellow sundress, arms crossed over her chest.
“Ma’am,” he the man began as he approached, his expression unreadable. She waited, watching as he took off his sunglasses only for recognition to slam into her. Oh. She knew this man from pictures. “My name is Cassian.”
Rhysands right hand man. Nesta didn’t move, unwilling to betray she knew who he was. “What can I do for you, Cassian?”
Not even a fake name? Was he that confident she’d never done one google search? He had a mugshot, had appeared in the papers just enough times for Nesta to recognize him. They called him The Lord of Bloodshed thanks to his rumored job of handling the things Rhysand didn’t want staining his hands or his conscience.
And that man was standing at the bottom of her steps, armed just beneath his suit jacket.
“I’m here on behalf of your case,” he said like a pretty liar.
“Oh? Has something happened?”
“An indictment is coming. I’m to escort you back home once Rhysand has been charged.”
Liar.
Still, there was no reason to call him out on it. If Rhysand had found her, he must be still looking for her sisters. She didn’t believe for a minute he’d found Feyre—his bruiser would have pointed his gun at her by way of greeting had he. No, they were monitoring her.
And Nesta could watch them right back.
So she smiled, hoping she seemed innocent and sweet. “What a relief,” she lied, stepping to the side so he could come up. “I was starting to think I’d be trapped here forever.”
“Can I come inside?” Cassian asked, looking around her immaculate yard with interest. “It’s hot out here.”
“Better get used to that,” Nesta said, pulling open the screen door so Cassian could get the lay of the land. “Are you staying here?”
“If you don’t mind. The hotel is…”
Roach filled, she knew. People still went, content to carry out their clandestine affairs in filth so long as no one ever found out.
“I have a spare room,” Nesta told him. Cassian turned back for his own car—a brand new jeep that was laughably out of place in her little neighborhood. He returned with two bags slung over his broad shoulders, eyes hidden behind his glasses. The sun hit the golden brown of his skin, making it seem as if he glowed and tragically, Nesta thought he was a good looking man.
He’d kill her if she wasn’t careful…but attractive, all the same.
Nesta showed him to the smaller room she kept made up just in case Gwyn or Emerie wanted to stay the night, thinking the full sized bed didn’t seem big enough for this man. He had to duck beneath the doorway, putting him well over six foot three—maybe six six? He made Nesta, who stood tall at five nine, feel dainty by comparison.
“Should I call you Cassian, or…?”
“Cassian is fine,” he replied, sunglasses resting atop his head. “This is perfect, by the way. I promise you’ll barely know I exist.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nesta said in a flirty voice as she eyed him. “I think it would be hard not to notice you.”
He grinned, unaware that a real agent would have shut her down in seconds. “Well, Miss Agnes, I’ll do my best to keep out of your hair.”
Nesta offered him another smile, mind racing. If she survived tonight she assumed she’d survive as long as he wanted her to—and as long as she didn’t admit she knew what he was. That meant keeping it from Gwyn and Emerie, who wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from treating him like a criminal.
He thought she was prey, but Nesta Archeron was a survivor. A predator, just like this man. And she had lived in Georgia for five years—she had guns hidden all over the house. He didn’t need to know any of that, though. Nesta waited while he unpacked some of his things and peeked around her little house, mostly quiet as he cased her. Sitting on her sofa beneath a ceiling fan moving at top speed, Nesta heard him push open the back door and walk through the yard where she assumed he was testing the gate.
He messed with windows when he returned, pushing back curtains to peer out into the street. “You’re wide open out here,” he finally said with a frown on his pretty face. And he was pretty—sculpted and rough in a way that was hard to ignore. Nesta found herself noticing the green in his hazel eyes and the way stubble clung to his strong jaw. A slit cut through his eyebrow while faint scars littered his jaw and hands, betraying a man who knew his way around a fight.
He was fooling no one but himself.
“This is where you put me,” she reminded him, wondering if he understood what she was really saying.
“Maybe we’ll keep the curtains closed,” Cassian said, as if Nesta didn’t do that anyway. The sun was unforgiving and the only way to survive swampy summers was to try and keep things shady and cool.
“Do you want to take off your jacket?”
“I want to take everything off,” he admitted, shrugging out of what she had to assume was stolen. “Even my own skin.”
“That’s how I felt when I first got here,” she told him. He’d look back on all this and remember—he’d realize she knew the moment he stepped onto her lawn. “You get used to it.”
She was going to kill him, she realized. The knowledge slammed into Nesta’s chest violently, paralyzing her for a moment. She’d never killed anyone…but at some point she’d have to kill this man before he killed her. Cassian, for his part, was unaware of the slant of her thoughts. He must have already known when he came down that he planned to kill her just as soon as he was given the order. She doubted he intended to take her home…and if he did, it would be under duress.
That was future Nesta’s problem, though. For now, all she had to do was stay one step ahead of him. And that meant pretending like she believed every word coming out of his mouth and ignored all the obvious signs that he was a liar.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Starving,” Cassian agreed. He vanished into the room she’d given him, leaving Nesta enough time to try and steady her nervous hands. By the time Cassian returned, Nesta was slicing up meat for the grill outside. There was absolutely no way she was turning on her oven.
“Can I help you with that?”
Instinct demanded she say no. She didn’t want Cassian anywhere near lighter fluid, for one. He looked so earnest and she was pretending, so Nesta nodded. “I haven’t seasoned it yet.”
“Leave it to me,” Cassian said with an easy smile. And she did, watching him from the corner of her eye while he seasoned her meat and vegetables. He vanished out the back door and when he returned, sweat glistened over his face. Nesta found herself standing there for a moment, staring as he pulled the rest of his hair off his face, biceps straining against the cuff of his t-shirts.
Cassian was heavily tattooed with black ink that crawled over his arms and up his neck, broken only by the sweaty shirt he wore.
“Why do people live like this?” Cassian asked, wiping his brow on his sleeve. “It’s horrible.”
“I keep saying it,” she replied honestly. “I would have preferred a colder climate.”
“Next time,” Cassian grumbled. “What are you doing now?”
“Cutting up fruit. Want some?”
Cassian picked a blueberry out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “How do you spend your time, anyway?”
“I’m the town lawyer,” Nesta informed him. “I work in a little office down on Main Street.”
“And when you’re not working?”
She shrugged. “I have friends…but I mostly read.”
He glanced toward her shelves of books in the living room, visible from the hall connecting the two. “Anything interesting?”
“Take a look,” was all Nesta could think to respond. Cassian didn’t take her up on her offer, turning instead to go check on the grilling meat. Had she not known who he was, Nesta might have thought the awkward environment was just because a stranger had invaded her space.
It felt almost normal.
Almost.
Because Nesta couldn’t forget a killer was sitting across from her, his hands soaked in blood. She kept coming back to it as they ate in relative silence. Why had Rhysand sent him here? What did he want with her? Nesta needed to figure it out.
And figure it out fast.
CASSIAN:
Nesta Archeron was beautiful.
Cassian hadn’t expected it. He’d seen a picture of Feyre only once and had kind of imposed her face on all three Archerons. Walking up to her house had been a surreal experience. For one, all Cassian could see was her tits pressed against the neckline of that sundress she wore. Holy fucking Christ, but Nesta’s body was something out of his most depraved fantasies.
But her eyes were something else. Icy blue and calculated, it was no surprise Nesta had survived five years out mostly on her own. Did she even know her sisters were guarded by federal agents while she was left to fend for herself?
It irked Cassian. Sure, he was grateful he’d been able to gain access to her life so easily, but surely someone was keeping their eyes on this woman? So the likes of him couldn’t just stroll into her home and do whatever he liked with her?
But after two days living with Nesta, Cassian learned that no one seemed to care if she lived or died. Which was just as well—because he was starting to care. Just a little, he told himself that second night as he laid in bed staring up at the ceiling fan.
His only job was to get her back to Rhysand in one piece once he’d tracked down Feyre and married her. Nesta wouldn’t even know until it was all too late and the feds would lose their pathetic case.
And then Cassian could go back to his regular life in a place that wasn’t drenched in humidity. How did anyone sleep? Even with Nesta’s air conditioner going at full blast, Cassian found himself shucking off his shirt and kicking the sheets to the floor in a desperate attempt at sleep.
Thinking the living room might be cooler, Cassian dragged his blanket with him to the couch where he found Nesta, half hidden in the dark with a piece of toast in her hand.
Her little night dress was enough to empty out his mind. Why was she so hot? Cassian could see every curve of her perfect body beneath the silken blue fabric and her hair was loose around her shoulders rather than braided in a crown atop her head.
He wanted to lick the salt off her skin.
He wanted to lick a lot of things, actually.
Cassian was fairly certain federal agents weren’t supposed to have sex with their charges—even if Rhysand was certain Vanserra had something going on with the middle Archeron. Cassian wasn’t anything close to a cop and fucking was his favorite thing to do.
“I ah..” Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly hyper aware that all he wore was a pair of loose shorts. Nesta was looking only at his face with a grim determination—as if she found it very difficult to do so.
You can look at any part of me you like.
Having sex with her would certainly pass the time.
“It’s hot,” Nesta said, flipping on a lamp on the side table. “I keep meaning to get someone out here to look at my AC, but…”
“I’ll look at it,” Cassian promised. “Before the sun comes up.”
“You’re handy?”
He was, actually. “I grew up with a single mom,” he said, flashing her a smile before making his way to the sofa. “We didn’t have a lot of money, so I learned how to do repairs.”
Nesta tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Unwilling to give her a reason to banish him, Cassian made a show of fluffing the couch cushions before stretching himself out.
“My shower doesn’t have hot water,” she finally told him.
Cassian grinned in the dark. “I can take a look at that, too.”
“I would appreciate it,” Nesta replied.
“Why don’t you make me a list? I’ve got nothing else to do all day and I feel like a freeloader sitting on your couch.”
That was true. Cassian was used to staying busy and suddenly he had nothing but downtime. It was tempting to go to the library and find his own books to read and treat the entire thing like a vacation. This would help build trust between them, he rationalized.
And Cassian liked having something to do. He liked being useful to people.
“I could do that,” Nesta said, still standing in his line of sight. Even in the dark, Cassian could see her nipples pointed through the fabric. He wanted to touch them.
“I’m here to help,” Cassian reminded her.
“Of course,” she said, her tone unreadable to him.
He nearly asked if she wanted to join him. It was on the tip of his tongue, but Nesta beat him to speaking, adding, “Well. Sleep well, Cassian.”
“You too,” he said, disappointment ribboning through him. It was absurd to think a woman like Nesta Archeron was going to crawl in his dirtbag lap.
Still, Cassian could dream. And he did, waking with a throbbing erection he had to discreetly handle in the freezing cold shower. Cassian hadn’t noticed it wasn’t hot given the air was miserable and he didn’t want to take a boiling shower for once. He could hear Nesta in her room listening to music, up with dawn just like he was.
He found tools out in her garden shed, unused and rusty. They’d likely belonged to the previous tenant, whoever they’d been. Still, they worked well enough for Cassian’s purposes. What she needed was an entirely new unit. Cassian guessed the old one was over a decade long and judging from the rattling, it was on its final legs.
He had money. A lot of money. Would she believe him if he told her the agency had decided to replace it? Nesta didn’t strike him as particularly stupid—if they’d never helped her before, she might not believe they’d help her now. He couldn’t live the way they had been, though, which was how Cassian found himself on the phone with the local repairman giving out his credit card details over the phone.
Nesta was gone by the time Cassian came back into the house, drenched in sweat and slightly sunburned on the tops of his arms. It was a relief to get into the basement and work on the water heater, and by the time Cassian finished, the service guys were there to replace Nesta’s air conditioner. It required them to turn the air off which was actual hell, though once it was back up, Cassian felt instant relief.
Nesta returned with a scowl on her face, dressed in a pencil skirt that made Cassian’s mouth dry out. How had Archeron managed to create her? Cassian had met him—he was nothing special. An unremarkable man in every way imaginable, including his appearance.
Nesta could have modeled. Could have had her face on billboards, her body in magazines. Had he met her back home, he knew he’d have dogged her steps hoping for just a look in his direction.
“Any news?” Nesta asked, sliding her keys and purse onto a side table. Cassian watched her kick off her heels and turn her face upwards toward the vents blowing cold air.
“Nope,” he said. What would Rhys do if he kept her here for a year? Kick his ass, likely. “Rough day?”
Holding up a cloth shopping bag, Nesta nodded her head while Cassian rose to take it from her. Inside he found an assortment of peppers, onions, and a rather nice steak he assumed she wanted to grill. Cassian had never grilled before he met her and found that he rather liked it. In fact, he liked the whole little game he was playing. Pretending to be the sort of man who had a house and a wife and a barbeque suited him.
In another life, Cassian would have thrived.
“I’m working on another divorce and her soon to be ex stopped by to tell me what he thought about me.”
“I hope it was to tell you you’re beautiful,” Cassian replied without thinking as he peeled stickers from the vegetables.
“No it wasn’t,” Nesta replied, her tone uncertain. “It was to tell me what a bitch I am.”
Cassian arched a brow. “Did you tell him to get fucked?”
Nesta chuckled. “Not this time…but I wanted to. He thinks if he digs his heels in, he can avoid this divorce but it’s happening either way.”
“This is why I’m not married,” Cassian said, reaching for a knife.
“Oh?” Nesta asked, an amused smile on her perfect face. “Is that the only reason?”
Cassian couldn’t help his grin. “I’m off-putting to women, of course.”
“There it is,” she said with a pretty laugh. “Want any help?”
“Get out of my kitchen, Nes,” Cassian replied, swatting her away. “Water’s fixed, by the way.”
The whole thing was warm and domestic. Nesta thanked him before sauntering off, hips swaying with each step. The only thing to temper Cassian’s hot blood was the hotter grill outside and a reminder that Nesta was off limits to him.
He was merely a guard meant to get her back home before the feds scooped her and her sisters back up again. Collateral, he supposed, for the game Rhys was playing with Feyre. Cassian was grateful for that, at least—if Rhys called him and told him to kill her, he wasn’t certain he could do it.
Cassian returned to find Nesta in a pair of tiny little shorts and a pink tank top. He wished she’d pull her hair down, still left in its braided crown, though in truth he could have stood at the backdoor and stared at her for an embarrassing length of time.
“What did I say about the kitchen?” he teased, setting his tray of meat and vegetables on the counter beside her.
“I wanted to make a little salad,” Nesta told him, showing him the bowl. “Do you even eat vegetables?”
“On occasion,” Cassian said with an easy grin. “I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me, though. I’m not picky.”
“Tell me about yourself, Cassian,” Nesta ordered once they were seated at her little wooden table.
“There’s nothing interesting to tell,” he replied. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I’ll bet you’re a lot more interesting than I am.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Nesta murmured.
“C’mon,” Cassian cajoled. Nesta sighed, eyes narrowed with that suspicious look he was growing so fond of. Was there such a thing as love at first sight, he wondered? Cassian was starting to suspect he was under its spell. Under hers, anyway. Nesta relented, telling him little stories he figured were probably half true.
Cassian knew the right questions to ask, at any rate. Careful not to mention her family, Cassian asked her about everything else. Nesta spoke about going to law school and living in Georgia, mentioning two friends she’d made—Gwyn the librarian and Emerie the grocer. He’d seen them on his porch when he first arrived.
He needed to do a little digging on them, but he figured they were likely fine.
“What about you?” Nesta asked, their meal long concluded. Cassian began gathering up dishes.
“What about me?”
“Are you from Georgia?” she questioned.
Cassian chuckled. “No, I’m not from Georgia. Just got unlucky in my assignment, I guess.”
“Why did you want to do this work?”
Cassian considered that. “I’m good at it,” he replied, drumming his fingers along the edge of the sink. “I kind of fell into it, actually. I guess I succumb easily to peer pressure because when one of my friends suggested I apply, I did it without hesitation.”
That wasn’t entirely true. There had been no application process—he and Rhys had become friends as boys and Rhys’s mother had been like a second mother to Cassian. He’d always wanted to repay them for their kindness and when Rhys asked him to join him as his right hand man, the answer had been obvious.
He couldn’t tell Nesta that, though. She didn’t poke, either, seemingly satisfied with his answer. While Cassian cleaned up, Nesta made her way to the living room, picked up a book, and curled up on the couch. Cassian watched her pull a blanket from the back of the sofa and drape it over her tanned knees.
“Cold, huh?” he joked.
“You fixed—”
A gunshot silenced both of them. Nesta jumped clean out of her skin, book falling from her trembling hands. Cassian frowned, his own heart racing with excitement. Finally, something interesting was happening.
His own gun was in his hand before Nesta ever stood. “Don’t move,” he whispered, motioning for her to get away from the window.
“Send the bitch outside!” a man’s voice yelled, filling Cassian with cold rage. He was at the door in a moment, flinging it open so it was his large body filling the space. On the lawn, a man stumbled forward, gun pointed at the sky. He pulled the trigger again, clearly trying to intimidate Cassian.
Cassian had been tied up before, a gun pressed against his lips while his cock was threatened with a knife. Some fucking rural drunk with a gun didn’t scare him. In truth, very little scared Cassian. He’d cheated death more times than he could count and he knew, as he stepped onto the lawn in the fading daylight, that he wasn’t going to die today.
This man, on the other hand…well. Cassian supposed it would depend on what he did next.
“Lower your weapon!” Cassian barked, his voice rough and menacing. The man jerked to look at him, eyes wide and watery. “Put your gun down or I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Send out your bitch—”
Cassian didn’t shoot him, but he did hit him in the face. Hard. Maybe too hard given the way the man crumpled at his feet as blood poured from his nose. Only the alcohol kept him from passing out which was lucky for Cassian.
Crouching in the grass, Cassian grabbed the man by his thinning hair and forced his head into an unnatural angle. “What did you say?”
“I called her a bitch,” the man spluttered through the blood.
Cassian cocked his gun with his free hand and pressed it to the man's cheek. “Try again,” he whispered, fully intending on killing this man on the front lawn. Cassian’s finger pressed against the trigger just as Nesta barked, “Cassian!”
He twisted to look at her, arms crossed over her chest. She was fury incarnate right then, marching toward the pair of them without a care in the world.
“Get out of her, Brent,” Nesta ordered, pointing her finger toward the gate. “This is embarrassing, even for you.”
“You ruined my life—”
“You ruined your own life by cheating on your wife!” Nesta spat without remorse. “And you’re ruining it by assaulting a federal officer.”
Cassian nearly choked. Did he look like a cop right then?
“He assaulted me,” Brent protested, shoving out of Cassian’s grip.
“If I see you near her again, you’ll find yourself six feet under before you can utter one fucking word. Do we understand each other?” Cassian asked, rising to his full height. Brent glanced from the gun in Cassian’s hand to Cassian himself before offering a sullen nod.
“Whatever,” he muttered, clearly trying to save face. Cassian watched him stumble off, forcing himself not to pull the trigger anyway at the man’s retreating back. Nesta came to stand beside Cassian, resting her soft, small hand on his forearm.
“That’s the guy getting the divorce,” she told him, as if Cassian cared who he was. Letting someone who threatened him walk away unscathed felt wrong and Cassian longed to rectify it. Where did he live, he wondered?
“I can see why,” Cassian muttered, turning back for the house. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”
“He’s not coming back—”
“He pointed a gun at you,” Cassian growled, the memory filling him with rage.
Nesta only shrugged, proving that she was still part of the life whether she wanted to be or not. Did she know what a liar her younger sister was, he wondered? Did Nesta know it had been Feyre who killed her father? Looking at her in the warm light of the house, Cassian decided that a woman like Nesta wouldn’t allow herself to live this way if she hadn’t known. If she wasn’t protecting someone.
Who was protecting her?
“I’m fine,” Nesta reminded him. But Cassian knew all too well how differently things could have gone if he hadn’t been there. Cassian knew how quickly a bullet could end things.
“I’ll feel better out here,” he said, setting his gun on the glass coffee table. “You won’t change my mind, Nes.”
She hesitated, eyes moving from him to the window. “Fine.”
Cassian had no intention of sleeping, though. He waited until he knew Nesta was asleep, slipping into her bedroom just to check. She was so lovely even in sleep and Cassian had to resist the urge to touch her face. Not tonight. Another night, perhaps—but not this night.
The thing about small towns he found himself appreciating was how easy it was to find people. Slipping into a local bar, Cassian mentioned what had happened to the bartender, who helpfully told him where Brent lived.
He didn’t bother to slip in quietly. If he wanted to be unnoticed, he would have called up Azriel. Cassian liked when his marks were scared, for whatever that said about him. Flexing his fingers, Cassian picked through the dirty, mostly empty house. He supposed Nesta was helping to clean him out.
Good for her.
Brent was waiting in a fraying brown chair, a bottle of Jack Daniels held loosely in one hand. “Knew you weren’t no cop,” he muttered. “You got the look of a felon.”
“Have you been talking to my third grade teacher?” Cassian asked, his tone light. “She used to say the same thing.”
“You ain’t foolin’ no one but that girl of yours,” Brent told him, eyeing the gun in Cassian’s hand.
“She’s the only one I need to fool,” Cassain agreed, coming closer. “I swore an oath to protect her.”
“I didn’t hurt her.”
“But you scared her,” Cassian said in that same friendly tone. “You came to her house and threatened her and I can’t stand for that.”
“Well, I don’t really care if I scared her. Sometimes women ought to be a little afraid.”
Cassian clenched his fingers. “Is that so?”
“Make your threats and get the fuck out,” Brent ordered, taking another swig of whiskey. Cassian saw his gun on a chipped side table.
“You don’t have much going for you, do you Brent? Wife left you, took all your money…is about to take your house. You’ve got no job, no friends…anyone would lose it.”
“Yeah,” Brent mumbled, eyes glassy. “You get it.”
“If I were you, I’d probably kill myself too,” Cassian added, holding Brent’s gun in his hand. Brent’s eyes found him, big and wide with shock.
“What did you say?”
Cassian shrugged, making his way closer to the inebriated man. “I don’t think anyone will be surprised when they find you. I’ll bet it takes them days before someone comes checking.”
“Look, you don’t have to do this. I can…I can pay you—”
“No you can’t,” Cassian said with a chuckle. “And even if you could, I wouldn’t take your money. This is about honor, of which you have none because an honorable man wouldn’t try and threaten a woman for doing her job.”
“She fucked me over—”
“You fucked yourself,” Cassian interrupted, reaching for Brent’s hair a second time. “And you made a mistake coming after her.”
“I’m sorry—”
Cassian pressed the barrel of the gun beneath Brent’s jaw.
“I know you are,” he said, holding the man’s gaze. “It’s not enough.”
And then he pulled the trigger. The relief he felt was instantaneous, his blood lust slaked. It took another few seconds to arrange the gun in Brent’s hand, letting both his arm and the weapon fall lifelessly into his lap. The bottle of Jack hit the floor with a thud, spilling over stained wood floors.
The scene was practically a work of art. Textbook suicide—no one would look twice at him or Nesta. That didn’t stop him from wiping his prints on the way out, just in case. He found himself back on the couch, face washed of blood, before two am.
Cassian had been right about one thing: it took them three days to find Brent.
“Suicide,” Nesta said crisply when she learned, eyes focused on Cassian’s face.
He only smiled.
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ABC / Half-indonesian/chinese half-english white-passing guy here, I really appreciate the amount of love and passion you(you both?) have put into the recent Superman stuff. I'm not personally that deeply a fan of DC, but being able to see characters that I share experiences with - written by people that are also like me - is a beautiful experience.
It's strange being mixed. I'm not quite either. I still feel like an alien intruding in on spaces I shouldn't be in, either way, but.. Clark does too, as does Ms. Liando. Thank you.
P.S; If/when Lois discovers Superman and Clark are one in the same, how would the dynamics shift, and how would it go? If you have any ideas on that.
Aaw thank you so much (indeed we both wrote and drew the comic)! I totally get it. Being mixed third culture kids ourselves, the concept of "belonging" to a community is a complicated one.
Well now I can't give that all away haha! I still have to cook the idea of Clark coming out to Lois as Superman in the oven for a lot longer before I'm ready to write it (mentally, it feels like a relationship milestone that they hit and not a story with themes quite yet), but here's what we're definitely not going to do:
Lois jumps off a building (or puts herself in danger) to force Clark to out himself before he's ready ❌
Lois smugly interrupts Clark before he comes out as Superman, showing off that she knew already ❌❌
Lois gets mad at Clark for keeping secrets ❌❌❌
Lois tries to harm Clark to prove he's Superman ❌❌❌❌
Lois Liando would understand as a fellow immigrant why Superman would hide himself and go by a different name. That's one of the things the Private Interview comic was about after all! They both had secret identities of their own, in different ways. Of course she's curious, but she does respect Superman not wanting to tell her that yet. I like to believe Liando has the emotional intelligence to understand that superheroes keep secret identities to protect people they care about on top of that. And the idea of Liando trying to out an immigrant before he's ready makes no sense to me.
At most I can say she'd feel complicated about it. The closest analogy I can think of is having a queer friend who you've known for years and are super tight with, but they only trusted to come out to you recently. Regardless of how good an ally you are, or if you're queer too, you'd feel complicated about it. Why did it take so long? Did you do something that made them doubt telling you until now? etc. It's important to me that Lois and Clark become really close and have known each other for years before he finally tells her. The slow burn of mutual trust ✅✅
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Everlong
part 1: hello, I've waited here for you
Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington
18+Only, smut, older!eddie, older!steve, unprotected anal sex, first time experience, oral m/m, anal play, rimming, fingering, no Vecna, deep feelings, mention of porn and of an orgy, creampie, but it's also very fluffy, Eddie has had a crush on his best friend for a long time. wc: 5.9k
It's the mid-late 90's in Hawkins, Eddie and Steve are both in their 30's, and have recently moved back after several life upsets. Eddie has his own trailer across town, and that is where he offers to let Steve stay for a week, and old feelings resurface.
author's note: There will be 2 parts to this. I fully intended to work on something Halloween themed, but then the inspiration for this happened. Just goes to show how my mind doesn't like to be told what to do.
"If everything could ever be this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when..."
-- Everlong, Foo Fighters
Steve’s week-long stay with Eddie was half over, and Eddie felt that reality sink his heart as he opened the door to his trailer.
“Honey, I’m home,” he announced with a spring in his step.
He lived in a trailer park across town now, it was double wide, and felt like a luxury after all of those years he spent crowding in with Wayne. He missed the old man though and went over to Forest Hills every couple of days to visit.
He never thought he’d be back in Hawkins a decade after high school, but he’d dropped everything to move to Indianapolis for a girl he was seeing, and then got his heart shattered a year later.
Coming back to his hometown felt a bit like failure, but it also felt safe. He still had good friends there, and he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Working as a welder at the local fabrication shop was not his dream job, but it paid the bills, and he was comfortable. He even got to play a show with his old band every now and then.
He put the Chinese take out on the island between the kitchen and the living room and called Steve’s name again. But then he caught sight of the piece of paper on the coffee table:
“Went for a run. BRB.”
The note made Eddie grin and feel all goofy, like somehow that small courtesy was such a huge act of love. He hadn’t been treated very well by his partners over the years, and that revelation stung him in moments like that.
Steve had also done the dishes, and the living room was spotless and organized. The ashtray on the coffee table had been dumped out and cleaned, all of the Guitar World magazines stacked neatly. When he opened the fridge to grab a beer, he found that they were all lined up in a row. Eddie kept telling him he didn’t have to do any of that, but Steve said that if he didn’t stay busy, he’d go crazy, and Eddie respected it.
Steve Harrington and Eddie had remained best friends, even through the years and the distance and the failed relationships. It just so happened that Steve was at the tail end of a very messy divorce, and needed a place to crash now that he was back from Chicago. His ex-wife had managed to take him for every penny he had, so Eddie was quick to offer his place after he joked about having to sleep in his car (it wasn’t a joke).
Eddie played the message blinking on his machine to find that it was from Robin. She’d also moved back to Hawkins recently, but she worked 50 hours a week, had two roommates, and was dating a woman from another town, so they didn’t get to see each other as much as they’d like. The three of them had a bowling date set for that coming weekend, and it gave Eddie the warm fuzzies to think about them all being back together again.
Eddie was in the shower with his dick in his hand, stroking it, when Steve burst in. “Hey man,” the intruder grabbed something from the medicine cabinet, and then braced his hands on
the sink before splashing some water on his face. “God damn, I am out of shape. That was rough.” Steve coughed a few times and then wiped his face on the nearby towel.
He couldn’t see Eddie through the dark blue curtain, but had he heard him? There was a possibility that Eddie had been talking to himself, thinking about Steve, and grunting a little as he got himself hard.
“Food smells good,” Steve added as he walked back out into the hall, but left the door wide open. “I’m starving.”
Nah, he hadn’t heard anything.
“I got those weird noodles you like,” Eddie shouted over the sound of the shower. “And sweet and sour chicken.” Steve didn’t have to tell Eddie what he wanted from the restaurant down the street; Eddie always paid attention to those things.
“Hey, leave me some hot water,” Steve was in the doorway again. “Or should I just get in there with you? Save some resources?”
“Not unless you want to soap my balls, Harrington,” and then Eddie threw his fist against the curtain. “Get out, and shut the fucking door, you creep.”
—-------
After dinner and a beer on the porch, the boys retired to their respective positions on the couch while Eddie rolled a joint. The movie Ghostbusters was on TV, but it was interrupted by a string of commercials, and Steve tucked his foot under him on the opposite end of the couch while he watched Eddie lick the paper.
“Okay if I have a drag?” Steve asked, resting his cheek on his knuckles.
Eddie snapped a look at him and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, hell yes. You think you can handle it?” The metalhead sat back, rolling the piece between his fingers, and then he wet one end and grabbed his lighter.
“I can handle whatever you can handle, Munson.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that, Harrington,” Eddie smirked and took a stiff inhale before passing it to his friend.
Steve’s ex-wife had insisted on a very straight-edge lifestyle, and he hadn’t had a whiff of weed in almost 3 years, so he took a cautious pull.
And then he coughed, and banged his chest, and spittle flew from his wet lips.
“Damn, alright,” Eddie hummed. “I take it back, you are a badass.”
“Shit,” Steve could feel the drug seeping into his bloodstream and his senses. “Feels good. Feels kinda…tingly.”
“Ahh if only to have your tolerance again,” Eddie mused, taking another long drag. The show came back on, and the Ghostbusters were checking out the slime and stacks of books in the library.
They watched a few minutes of the movie while Eddie continued to smoke. He offered it to Steve again, but he passed.
“Hey, do you remember that one time we watched a porno together?” Steve just blurted it out from nowhere, completely unprompted.
Still, Eddie knew exactly which porn he was talking about, and the exact night that it happened.
“I think so,” Eddie tapped his ash out. “Maybe. Were we at my old place?”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded, keeping his eyes on the screen. “It was the summer you graduated, and Wayne was at work and you were like ‘hey Steve, wanna watch some vampire ass fucking?”
Eddie scoffed. “Shut up, that is not what I said.”
“Well,” Steve was clearly exaggerating, chuckling to himself. “That’s what they were doing.”
The movie was called, “Bloodsucking Orgy” and it was a bisexual vampire porn. But the actors were wearing fake, plastic teeth, and the cheap makeup dripped off of their faces as they fucked, but it was some of the hottest shit Eddie had ever seen at the time.
What Steve didn’t tell him was that he had to pull over to jerk off in his car that night, not only thinking about the raw breeding on film, but the way Eddie had palmed himself over his jeans, clearly aroused. That was the first night, all those years ago, when Steve had first questioned his sexuality.
“I had that vhs with me for a long time,” Eddie held in a tight breath and then released a large plume of smoke. “It was under my bed in a box for years, but I think my ex took it.”
“Trevor?” Steve asked, thinking of the last boyfriend that Eddie had introduced to him that he didn’t like. Come to think of it, he hadn’t approved of any guy or girl Eddie had dated in a long while; In Steve’s mind, no one was good enough for his best friend.
“Nah,” Eddie lowered his chin, shyly. “I only dated him for like, a week. It was barely a handjob. I’m talking about Jake, the one with the mohawk.”
“The guy who juggled bowling pins at the fair?” Steve rolled his eyes. “I swear, you know how to pick them, Munson.”
Eddie squinted across the couch at his friend as another commercial came on. Maybe the weed was a little stronger that night but, was Steve…jealous?
Steve stole a long glance at Eddie when he got up to use the bathroom, taking in the curve of his muscles under the thin white Hanes of his t-shirt and the arc of his resting cock under his sweats.
They watched a bit more of the movie, speaking the lines to the parts they knew by heart.
“I’m going to miss this when you go,” Eddie muttered.
Steve’s apartment would be ready by Monday, and Eddie was dreading the lonely nights when Steve wasn’t there on the couch with him.
“I’ll be just down the road, man,” Steve assured, taking a sip of his beer. “I thought you’d be glad to get me out of your hair, so you could get back to your bachelor pad life.”
Eddie figured Steve was just confused, so he decided to jog his memory. “I haven’t so much as gone on a date with anyone in almost a year. This is hardly a rockin’ bachelor pad.”
For some reason, this gave Steve a sense of relief.
Ghostbusters ended and Eddie told Steve to wait right where he was, as if he’d go anywhere, since the couch was also his bed.
When Eddie sauntered back from the dark hallway, he was carrying two black, clamshell vhs covers. They were blank on the outside, with no words on the spine, and Steve knew exactly what they were, even from far away.
“Let me guess,” he raised his eyebrow. “Bloodsucking Orgy Part 2?”
Eddie chuckled. “Close! No, but they are just as bad.”
Steve adjusted himself in a way that made Eddie look over his shoulder as he put the tape in the vcr. “You okay with this? I figured…for old time’s sake?”
“Sure, yeah, why not?” Steve ran his fingers through his hair a few times and adjusted the collar of his tee because suddenly he felt very hot.
To say that Eddie was testing Steve would be wrong. Eddie had no idea that the events in Bloodsucking Orgy had been a bit of a sexual awakening for his friend.
The actions in the movie would turn Eddie on, sure, but he could control himself for a few minutes if it meant being able to get a laugh at the way Steve’s face twisted up at the ridiculousness of it all.
The credits came on to let you know that this was a “Two Dicks, One Hole Production” and the boys clapped.
There was about 3 minutes of what you’d call “plot” where a bunch of zombies stormed inside this woman’s house while she was having a tupperware party, and then they were suddenly all compelled to have sex.
“Look out, Scorsese,” Steve bubbled a laugh into the palm of his hand.
Eddie clucked his tongue. “No one appreciates good cinema these days.”
One zombie had its head between a woman’s legs on the table while one of her friends squatted down on her face and rode her tongue.
Some of the husbands came by to rescue their wives, but then they ended up getting dicked down as well. It was all purely entertaining at first, but all of a sudden, Steve felt his cock twitch. He palmed himself over his boxers, and looked over to find that Eddie was doing the same thing.
Eddie glanced over and caught Steve staring at him while he touched himself and suddenly, he wasn’t at all interested in the movie anymore.
“Why does it--” Steve started, swallowing hard. "Why does it always look like it feels so good?"
“What?” Eddie rested his head on the back of the couch. “Being attacked by a flesh-eating zombie?”
“No,” Steve nibbled at his lip. “When they put it…in their ass…like that. The dudes I mean.”
Eddie couldn’t even hear the sound from the tv anymore, his ears were ringing. “Because it does feel good, sometimes, when the right cock is in your ass.”
Steve’s breath hitched at the tone of Eddie’s voice. “You like the feel of it, don’t you?”
Eddie couldn't help himself; he cupped his balls under the blanket. “Yeah, um, I do.”
“I’ve wondered about it,” Steve admitted in a whisper, sliding a hand down slowly to palm himself over his jeans. He was getting hard and needed the friction. “I've wondered what it would feel like. I think I might like it.”
“You do?” Eddie’s voice was low.
Was this really happening? Was Steve just shooting the shit? Or was he trying to throw clues down? If so, how should he handle it? He’d masturbated to this scenario so many times in his life but had no idea how he would make his move in real time.
Steve hadn't planned this. He'd had thoughts about Eddie before, sure, but he never imagined he'd do anything about it while he was staying at his place. How embarrassing would it be if his friend rejected him? He had to play it cool so he could make it out like he was kidding if that happened.
With a surge of adrenaline, Steve scooted closer, and his friend met him in the middle of the couch.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Steve’s eyes searched the other pair of chocolate orbs, and they were so close now, Eddie’s pulse was skyrocketing. “I don’t want this to make anything weird between us.”
“I’m fine with it if you are,” Eddie mumbled. There was a voice in his head screaming at him not to miss his chance. He pinched the front of Steve’s shirt. “We could experiment, if you want? What are best friends for?”
Eddie knew there was a platonic best friend line in the sand that was about to be crossed, and it could never be uncrossed, but the way Steve was looking at him with those puppy dog eyes made him not care one single goddamn bit.
He’d do anything for Steve. Even if it meant he was just another “experimental experience” for a straight guy.
Steve leaned in for a kiss, and as much as he wanted it, Eddie pulled his head back.
“Say it,” Eddie muttered.
Steve squeezed himself through his boxers and frowned, confused. “Say what?”
Eddie moved in close again, brushing Steve’s lips with his. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
Steve choked on the words at first, and then he told Eddie what he needed to hear.
Their mouths met in a frenzy of clumsy tongues and cries, and then they made their way to the bedroom, stripping clothes off as they went.
It wasn’t long before Eddie was naked next to Steve on the bed, pushing a lubed finger inside him one knuckle at a time. “Is that okay?” He kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth. His friend’s eyes were closed, but Eddie’s were wide open—he didn’t want to miss a thing.
“Yes—fuck,” Steve squirmed, but his hips were moving down, needing Eddie deeper. He gripped Eddie’s back with one hand, and the other came up to fist his own length where it throbbed.
Eddie moved his head down, his hair dragging along his companion's chest. “Let me,” he mumbled. Steve held it at the base so that the metalhead could take the swollen, leaking tip into his mouth. Now he was twirling his tongue around the head and fucking his finger inside of his best friend. He savored the taste of the salty tang, making lewd noises as he sucked and swallowed.
Eddie’s mouth was magic, and Steve was hiccupping erotic sighs. “Tell me again, why did we wait this long?” He chuckled, and Eddie smiled around the gift in his mouth, both of them caught in mutual disbelief and bliss.
“You feel that?” Eddie came up for air long enough to ask, pupils blown, rubbing deep onto Steve’s prostate with purpose.
“Yeah, I feel it,” Steve shuddered. He bent his knees up and placed his feet on the mattress so that he could arch his pelvis up to give better access. “I think...I think I need more,” he breathed.
Eddie chanced a look up at his friend: his head was back, throat exposed, and–oh shit— he loved seeing what he was doing to him. The way that he was the one giving Steve Harrington this much pleasure, to be the one to make him unravel.
The second finger went in, stretching him, and Steve’s muscle squeezed around Eddie’s digits so tight, it made his cock ache to take their place. The phalange in question was tucked against Steve’s hip, aching, and he rutted it there a few times, leaving a snail trail of juice on his partner’s skin.
“Move this leg,” Eddie advised, and Steve licked his lips, watching every move, hoping to god that he did not stop fucking him. He was switching positions now, getting in between Steve’s thighs.
Steve used the slick from Eddie’s saliva to work the tip of his cock a few times as his eyes roamed the wash of tattoos over his friend’s sinewy muscles, and the guitar pick necklace that swayed against his chest.
“Does this feel okay?” Eddie buried the second finger in and scissored them to stretch out Steve’s hole, feeling the resistance throb in his own balls.
Steve winced with a hiss, and Eddie’s hand stilled, but then Steve’s eyes snapped open. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop.”
Eddie was quick to lower his head to take over the tending of Steve’s huge member, making his friend moan long and hard.
When he looked down at the top of Eddie’s head, and the way his arm moved in and out between his legs, listening to the soft, wet, sucking sounds, Steve started to have some real feelings. They were feelings he was afraid to think, let alone say out loud.
“I-I need you inside of me, Eddie,” Steve managed. “I need you to fuck me right now.”
Eddie rose up, staring into Steve’s eyes as he took his fingers out to put the head of his dripping cock against the slip of Steve’s hole, rubbing it up and down. “Are you sure?” Eddie mumbled. “I’m not going to last long.”
“Me neither,” Steve blinked a few times, liking the way Eddie bit his bottom lip and searched his face.
Eddie’s heart was about to explode in his chest. He imagined bits of his heart and cum sprayed everywhere when his strewn body parts were found the next morning.
After a few moments of working the tip through and moaning at the way his hole sucked him in, Eddie leaned forward and pressed into Steve, spreading him open, letting him give a silent scream into his mouth. Eddie braced his partner’s hips, trembling at the sensation as he clenched around him.
Once he sank all the way in, Eddie intertwined his fingers with Steve’s above his head and began to move.
“The way you’re gripping me—holy shit,” Eddie murmured against his mouth. “Does that feel okay?”
“It feels…so fucking good,” Steve hushed. “Don’t stop.”
Steve’s bent legs were up now, and Eddie was thrusting against him, deep and hard, unable to hold back the emotions that drove his movements. Steve’s body bent so that his stomach wrinkled as Eddie found a mouth-watering pace, his guitar pick swinging in the air.
Foreheads pressed together, Eddie said, “wrap your legs around me,” and that’s when it happened; that’s when Steve could feel the coil snap in his stomach as Eddie drove into him with purpose.
Eddie grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair and pulled tight, yanking his head to the side, making him whimper.
“Cum inside me, Eddie—” Steve cried.
Eddie gave a strangled gasp at his words, because he was close, but it didn’t take long to slide one hand between them to find Steve’s leaking tip to help him along.
“I’m gonna cum in your tight little asshole,” breathless, Eddie was pounding him now, and neither one of them cared if the wet slapping sounds could be heard next door.
It was all Eddie could do not to declare his love then; to tell Steve that it had always been him, and it would be him forever after. “I’m so in love with you,” he wanted to say, and the thought alone made his orgasm rise.
The way Eddie made him feel so full would have been enough, but then his friend’s strong, calloused hand was yanking at his cock and Steve began to convulse under him. “Oh fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum. Eddie, I’m cumming!”
First of all, did Steve just call him baby?
But then there was no time to consider it because there were warm ropes of his release shooting between them, and Steve’s muscle gripped Eddie’s length over and over, milking him.
The way Steve cried out made Eddie’s movements erratic as he emptied himself, scooting closer, and bending his friend more in half to get deeper, to keep pumping with each aching grunt.
“Shit, you feel amazing,” Eddie cursed as everything got slippery and he could feel his seed leaking out between them.
Once they both came down from their highs, Eddie pulled himself out of Steve and kissed his knee before shimmying off the bed.
“Damn,” Steve looked down at himself, at the spray of jizz that began to pool in his belly button and noticed the sensation of Eddie’s release dripping down his ass. “I’m a fucking mess.”
“Hold on, I got it,” Eddie returned from the bathroom with a washcloth, brushing hair out of his face, and Steve watched him climb onto the bed to nestle between his thighs again. His cock was still half-hard, bobbing in the air as if it were already preparing for another round.
Eddie had the wet rag ready, but then the cum glistening on Steve’s stomach gave him other ideas.
“Are you giving me all that sweet aftercare now?” Steve scoffed.
“Well, yeah,” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows before bending down to lap at Steve’s bellybutton with his tongue. “You’re my guest.”
The feeling of his friend’s tongue dragging along his sensitive flesh was about to make Steve erect again, and he writhed at the sensation, eventually scooting further away, up against the headboard. Eddie watched him go, not sure what he’d done wrong, and passed him the washcloth.
Steve was having a hard time looking at his best friend now. Maybe because it had been the best orgasm of his life? Maybe because the past hour had made him question everything he thought he knew about himself?
He didn’t know what to do with the towel when he was done, so he handed it to Eddie, and he tossed it to the ground with a flop.
Eddie was about to move up next to Steve to kiss him, or at least sit next to him, but instead Steve got up off the bed and bent down to put his boxers on.
“So, does this mean—” Steve stammered, keeping his back to Eddie. “Does this mean that I—that I’m a bottom?”
Eddie was about to chuckle as he stretched long on the mattress and put his head in his hand, but then he realized Steve was asking a serious question.
“Did you enjoy it?” Eddie asked, cautiously.
“Um, yeah,” Steve bent down to pick up his shirt. “Obviously I did.”
That response elicited a quiver of a smile from Eddie, putting parentheses on either side of his mouth.
Eddie exhaled a long breath and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “It means…whatever you want it to mean. I’m not one to really care for labels.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve nod, taking in the information. He went to sit at the edge of the bed, fully clothed now, and Eddie ran a hand down his chest, thinking of his next words.
“We could always try it…the other way,” he said it so nonchalantly, and it made Steve turn his head, curiosity piqued.
“The other way?”
“You know,” now it was Eddie averting his eyes. “You could fuck next time, if you want. If you want to try it, I mean. See if you like it.”
“Next time, huh?” Steve ran a hand up and down his face. “I don’t know, man, this is —kinda blowing my mind right now.”
“I get it,” Eddie could feel a familiar heartache rising in his throat. “We could just forget this ever happened, if you want.”
There was a heavy silence then, thick and weighty with the fear of the unknown.
“No, I don’t want that,” Steve whispered.
Eddie lifted his head up. “You don’t?” His voice cracked, and then he cleared his throat and sat up to brace his elbows behind him.
Steve stood and put his hands on his hips before turning to his friend again. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I want to keep doing this,” he muttered. “But I don’t know what that means.”
“Hey,” Eddie scooted himself down so that he was sitting close to where Steve was standing, legs off the bed, and looked up at him. “We’re the only ones allowed to define this…whatever is happening between us. No one else.”
And the next thing you knew, Steve surprised himself for the second time that night, by going over to stand in front of Eddie. He brushed a few strands of his outdated bangs off of his forehead and Eddie closed his eyes to bask in the attention.
But his eyes opened when he felt Steve lower his head and grab onto Eddie’s shoulders. His mouth was so close now, and their noses slotted together. “I think I need to kiss you again,” he hushed.
Eddie’s hands went to the hips of Steve’s shorts, making fists in the material; he could feel himself getting hard again already.
“You better fucking do it, then, Harrington,” Eddie mumbled.
Once their lips met, tongues were quick to follow, and then they were crashing into the kiss and Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck. He had so many questions, and so many concerns about what this would look like to the outside world, to his friends and estranged family. But, in that moment, nothing mattered more than getting as close to this person he loved as he possibly could.
He wanted to be inside of him.
Eddie dropped to his knees and took Steve’s boxers with him, making Steve curse once he was back inside Eddie’s warm mouth.
Eddie pulled back to spit on the head, connecting a string of saliva to his mouth when he looked up to stare into his companions' eyes.
“You know where I want to put that,” Steve told the man on his knees.
Eddie’s moan was full of yearning. “I want you to fill me up,” and then he licked down the shaft and spit again until it was soaked. Eddie sucked his finger and then snaked it back to push the tip into Steve’s clenching muscle while he gave kitten licks to the freshly juiced pre-cum.
Steve jumped. “Fuck, baby—you’ll make me cum like that,” he barked a laugh.
Eddie’s smile was huge—-holy shit, he was so in love—-but then he stood to full height and grabbed Steve by the throat to kiss him. “We’ve got all night.”
Steve found his partner's rock-hard length and began to roll back the foreskin with a firm grip. He had no idea what he was doing but decided to go with whatever felt right. “Bend over,” Steve told him, taking a fist full of his hair. “Get on the bed.”
Steve’s tone made Eddie clench, and his balls were preparing for duty again.
Steve stepped out of his boxers and took his shirt off, keeping his attention on Eddie’s ass, and the way it was on full display for him now.
“The lube is in the—” Eddie started, but Steve silenced him with a “shush”.
“You’re a big boy, Harrington,” Eddie continued. “I don’t want to get ripped open toni—-”
But then big hands were spreading his cheeks apart and an eager tongue was dancing around his asshole.
Eddie pushed his hips back and the tongue dove inside. “Does that feel good?” Steve asked in between licks.
“Fuck yes,” Eddie breathed.
With that new burst of encouragement, Steve slid his thumb in, making the metalhead throw his head back.
Steve considered the logistics of it all for a moment, and then: “Can you get on your side?”
He moved into position without question. Steve didn’t have the nerve to say it, but he wanted to see Eddie; he wanted to be able to look at his face when he came. When they were both ready, Eddie rubbed the lube on his friend’s generous length, and then Steve squirted a bit on that pink, puckered spot, and Eddie yelped at the cold sensation.
More low chuckles, more tender laughter.
Eddie watched over his shoulder at the way Steve was concentrating as he lined the tip up. His best friend was so fucking beautiful, and he hoped to god it wasn’t a dream. Steve straddled Eddie’s bottom leg, while his top bent to the side, twisting at his hip.
Steve stammered a few curse words when he sank in an inch, halting. “Oh shit, I had no idea how tight—holy fuck Munson.”
“Fuck, please don’t stop,” Eddie mumbled into the pillow.
Steve groaned long and hard with each thrust, pushing himself in, taking his time, and then pulling out a bit until his hips were almost flush with Eddie’s ass.
“You like it when I stretch you out, don’t you?”
Eddie’s jaw went slack, and he reached down to touch himself, rutting into the mattress.
Steve buried himself inside Eddie, spreading his cheeks apart to watch. “Tell me I’m the only one who fills you up like this.”
“You’re the only one,” Eddie was whimpering now, trembling with lust and love. “I need you to start moving right now, Harrington!”
Steve was snapping his hips then, pounding Eddie just the way he wanted. The sounds escaping both of them were egging each other on, and Steve held Eddie’s leg up to get a better angle.
“It’s never felt this good,” Steve blurted. “Look at me.”
Eddie turned his head to meet his partner’s hooded gaze, sweaty hair sticking to his cheek. What if he said, “I love you”? What then? Because it was right there on the tip of his tongue.
“I’m so close, Eddie,” Steve’s movements stuttered a bit. “I need to see you.”
It was only a few more seconds of that intense eye contact before Steve was losing every last bit of himself inside his friend, slapping their skin even harder together as warm wetness filled the space. Steve’s toes curled on the mattress, and he threw his head back, holding onto Eddie's leg so that he didn’t fall over.
Being inside Eddie, to share something like that with him, felt so right and so perfect, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.
He flipped his partner over so that he was on his back, neglected cock straining against his tattooed stomach, and Steve bent over to put it into his mouth.
“Steve—!” Eddie was already about to blow his load before those soft lips were on him, but now his balls were tightening up close to his body. “I’m so close, I’m gonna—oh fuck!”
Steve nodded, humming on his friend’s swollen length as the salty spill poured over his tongue and he drank it down with eager swallows. Eddie writhed, shaking as he came.
They showered together again after that, and Steve found out about Eddie’s insatiable appetite when they jerked each other off one more time before they found sleep. They were all a tangle of limbs and legs, hot breath against the skin of each other’s throats.
The next two days brought much of the same. They had dinner together when Eddie got home from work and held hands in front of the tv. Until hand holding turned to touching and it was time for Steve to experiment being inside Eddie from a different angle. They both lost count of the number of times they came inside of each other. Well, Steve lost count. For Eddie, each one was precious and something he cherished.
On the third day, while the Saturday morning cartoons were on, Eddie’s head was in Steve’s lap while he played with his hair and rubbed his scalp. Eddie’s eyes were rolling back in his head, and he suddenly understood why cats purr. It all felt so natural, hidden away there in Eddie’s cozy trailer with the curtains drawn, like the rest of the world didn’t even exist.
But then there came the sound of footsteps bounding up to the porch, and someone tried the door handle before offering a few quick knocks.
“Hey, what’s going on in there?” The woman’s voice exclaimed. “Open up, this is the police.”
Steve’s eyes bulged and he practically pushed Eddie to the ground, trying to cover himself with the blanket. He was wearing his boxer shorts, but it made him feel very exposed.
Eddie’s hair was a mess when he sat up, and he gave Steve a curious frown. “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Robin.”
“I know,” Steve took a breath. “It just startled me, that’s all.”
Eddie threw a pillow in Steve’s face and shouted, “coming!”
“No, no, wait!” Steve lurched up and grabbed his friend's arm, pulling him back down to the couch.
Eddie gave him a few confused shakes of his head. “Are you losing it man? You knew she had the day off and might come over.”
“It’s not that,” Steve was whispering. “I want to see her I just—did you tell her…does she know…about us?”
Eddie’s face sobered. “When would I have a chance to tell her? I’ve spent every free second with you.”
“Okay good,” Steve’s shoulders sank, showing that he was clearly relieved. “Let’s keep it between us, alright? I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Anyone…ever?” Eddie was searching his companion’s eyes, hoping to find that same glimmer from the past couple days there, but it was gone. He understood that coming out could be complicated and difficult, and he didn’t think Steve would be shouting it from the hills, but surely Robin could know? They were the three amigos, the best of friends. If anyone would embrace him for exactly who he was and who he wanted to have sex with, it would be her.
Maybe he just needed more time, and that was fine, Eddie had plenty of it.
Robin knocked again, more forceful this time. “What the hell? I’m growing mold out here.”
Eddie remained still, passing his tongue over his teeth, and thought about what Steve was asking of him.
“I’m going to put some clothes on,” Steve got to his feet and jogged out of sight, to the bedroom, leaving Eddie to sit there, feeling the weight of being a secret, yet again.
“Hey!” Steve hissed from the hallway where he struggled to pull his jeans on while Eddie walked to the door. “Could you light a candle or something? It smells like sex in here.”
Yeah, sure, he’d get right on that.
Anything for you, King Steve.
-----
Hi! Thank you for reading! Always love hearing from you. Look out for part 2 🧡
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Pearl Correspondences & Uses in Witchcraft
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In ancient Chinese culture, pearls were used in artwork, folktales, and charms to represent wishes, fortunes, gratitude, and even the moon:
Marquis of Sui’s Pearl, a gemstone in a folktale dating back to the Warring States period (475-221 BCE), is given to a leader, Sui, from an injured snake that he nurses back to health, as a symbol of gratitude.
In Hindu and Buddhist traditions, The Chintamani (equivalent to the importance of The Philosopher’s Stone in alchemy) is known as a wish-fulfilling jewel that is sometimes depicted as a pearl.
In Chinese artwork, dragons may be seen holding or playing with a “flaming pearl” – in this context, some believe the pearl may be representative of “an object of great value that enhances the benign dragon who treasures it”, however it is more commonly (especially in Westerners) believed to be a cosmological symbol of the moon – in fact, there is an ancient belief that full moons are solid pearls, while new moons are hollow pearls.
In holistic circles, pearl powder is also known to help you with longevity, beauty, bone-health, among many other (non-FDA approved) benefits – and in Ayurvedic medicine, pearl is said to be an antidote for poison, and it was also used in love potions.
Knowing the traditional symbolism of pearls in Chinese and Eastern cultures, as well as its (supposed) medical benefits and Ayurvedic uses, we can create our own Correspondences for Utilizing Pearls in Witchcraft:
The Moon
The inner/subconscious-self
Wishes
Gratitude
Abundance
Love
Beauty
Longevity, good health
Pisces, cancer
Hidden knowledge
Uses for pearls (or pearl powder) in modern witchcraft:
Use pearl powder as highlighter in makeup for an easy glamor-spell
Mix with salt and other herbs associated with abundance to make “money-salt” for money spells
Add whole pearls or sprinkle pearl powder in your money bowl
Blow pearl powder onto your front door at the beginning of each month to bring abundance to your home
Write down a secret or something you want to get off your chest, and bury it with a pearl to keep it ‘hidden away’ from others
Make a wish with a pearl by leaving it out in a rainstorm, or dropping it into a natural body of water (pond, lake, etc).
Offerings to sea-related or beauty-realted deities
Fun pearl facts:
Genuine pearls (and pearl powder) doesn’t burn! Pearls may discolor, but they shouldn’t go up in flames.
Pearls are made as oysters try to protect themselves from irritants or parasites – they add layers and layers of this ‘pearl’ coating to intruders, and viola!
Pearls are the only gemstone that come from a living creature
Pearls come in many colors
Pearls are obtained from oyster farming – which is actually beneficial to the environment! Additionally, pearls can be harvested without killing oysters.
Be careful when shopping for pearls – many places do not sell genuine pearls and they may be fake. Use caution when looking to purchase!
Sources:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marquis_of_Sui's_pearl
https://sci-hub.ru/https://doi.org/10.2307/1512907
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cintamani
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eight_Treasures
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I realized pretty late that by the Vietnamese lunar calendar (vs. the Chinese one) it’s actually Year of the Cat, so here’s a water kitty that sits if fits! Dex entries and image description below.
IMAGE DESCRIPTION:
Liquitty is a blue cat with a liquid/puddle-like form. It has one main body that is a wibbly circle, with two cat ears, two blobby front paws, and one blobby puddle-like tail. The eyes are a pale blue, mismatched in size. The right eye is bigger with a tear-like blob hanging from it. Its tongue hangs from the right side of its mouth. The shiny form is a bright, radioactive green.
Nyaqua is a cat inside a pot, with its front paws and tail flowing out of the pot in the front. Its body inside the pot is shadowed black, gradually lightening to water-blues and -whites along the tips of the paws and the waterfall-like tail. Its eyes, inside of ears, nose and mouth are a gold color. The eyes are spirals, extending into a long eyelash-like curl along each bottom corner. The pot its in is navy blue with 5 golden spiral motifs. The shiny has a red pot.
Mistarius is a cat in a potion bottle. Its face is at the bottom of the bottle, with a fluffy, smoke-like tail extending from the mouth of the bottle. Its eyes are mismatched in size with little blobby protrusions. Its mouth is open in a smile. It has lightning bolt-shaped eyebrows. The common form is purple with cyan eyes, eyebrows, highlights, and smoke tail. The shiny is radioactive green with bright yellow-green eyes, eyebrows, highlights, and smoke tail.
POKEDEX ENTRY:
Liquitty like to collect in shallow holes in the ground or, in a more domestic home, in small cups or dishes. It evolves into Nyaqua when leveled up while holding a Lucky Vase, and into Mistarius after using a fire or electric move while holding a Contaminated Flask.
Nyaqua are a quiet breed, preferring to hide in large, spacious containers. When disturbed, they leap out and splash the intruders with a powerful spray of water formed from its tail. Nyaqua were once seen as pests for invading the decorative vases of wealthy families. As trends changed, however, people began to consider them guardians and lucky tokens of any houses they inhabited. It is said that a house with a Nyaqua would be blessed with calm and serenity for the duration of its stay.
Mistarius are a noisy and chaotic breed. Its liquid body, now mixed with volatile chemicals and heat energy, emits a noxious smoke through its tail. The smoke can burn skin or hide and explode when exposed to more heat. It likes to knock over containers of hazardous fluid and absorb the fluid into its flask. When well-trained and carefully monitored, however, Mistarius’ keen sense for the effects of different chemical combinations can make it a flexible battler and chemist’s best friend.
NOTES:
*Cats are basically made of water anyway right
*Nyaqua and Mistarius are both puns on Aquarius, no thought into what Aquarius zodiac means for them though
*I designed Liquitty after Nyaqua and Mistarius in that order less bc I was particularly inspired and more bc I needed a base form but actually I love this creature now
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bubbles bath
❅ bangchan x female!reader
❅ genre: fluff, suggestive
❅ words count: 500+
After a long and exhausting day at college, you came home to your shared apartment with a heavy sigh and a heavy heart.
Earlier in the day, you saw your boyfriend ㅡwho recently had been chosen as a TAㅡ surrounded by lots of girls after the class. By lots of girls, you mean around five or six girls. You didn’t really bother to count the heads when you witness the scene, but that was a wild guess.
After carelessly dropping your bag on the floor, you made your way to your bathroom. You stripped out of the garments covering your body before you filled the bathtub with warm water to the brim.
Another heavy sigh then slipped past your lips as you soaked yourself in the bathtub, relishing in the warmth of the water that relieved your body tension.
As you rest your head on the makeshift pillow from a towel, your mind unconsciously took you back to the irritating scene at college earlier.
One of the girls had her hand on your boyfriend's shoulder, another one was feeling his arm, while the rest of them were smiling flirtatiously at him. And your boyfriend? Of course, he was treating them with kindness. He was just really too kind for his own good.
“So, this is why you left so quickly? You didn’t even hear me shouting your name in the hallway.” Came a gentle and playful voice from the doorway.
You didn’t need to turn your head to know who was the brazen intruder who disturb your bath time. “Hmm, thought you were busy with your friends.”
“My friends? Who?”
“I don’t quite remember the names but pretty sure they’re all from your class.” Your response came a tad bit too sullen than intended, however, it only earned a chuckle from him.
“Ah, I get it.”
Before you could fully grasp what he meant, you felt a pair of cold hands on your shouldersㅡ which made you jolt a little.
When you tilted your head to the side, you found him perching on the edge of the bathtub.
"Relax." He gently said as his hands began to work their magic on your shouldersㅡ massaging all in the right places, loosening your tight muscles.
There were only two imaginable truths in this scenario. Exhibit a; you were so head over heels for him, so that was why you can't sulk for more than five minutes. Or, exhibit b; he truly knew how to deal with you.
"Chinese for dinner?" Chris asked after a while, both of his hands now stroking your bare back.
"Hm, no." You quickly declined with a shake of your head.
"You're not hungry?" He double-checked, his tone was gentle but laced with disapproval.
Knowing him, he would hate the idea of you sleeping on an empty stomach.
"I am hungry but I don't want Chinese."
"What do you want then?"
With your lower lip caught in between your teeth, you glanced up at him before answering, "You."
A crease instantly appeared on his forehead upon hearing your answer, but then the next second he playfully rolled his eyes. "All yours, anytime you want."
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Love
Summary: Buck shows up at Reader's house in the middle of the night and soon makes a confession that sparks joy in her heart.
TW/CW: Evan "Buck" Buckley x Reader, thunderstorms keep them both awake, Reader almost hits Buck with a baseball bat, mentions of dying/death.
Requested?: No
A/N: I finally started watching 911 again and here we are.
(Y/N)'s POV
I roll over in bed for the umpteenth time, still scrolling through TikTok. I pause the video for a second thinking I heard something. Holding my breath I listen carefully. I hear a soft thud and a few footsteps which causes my heart to leap into my throat. As quietly as possible, I step out of bed and grab the baseball bat tucked between it and the side table. I carefully and quietly make my way to the kitchen, bat held high ready to strike. As I round the corner, the intruder jumps, “Woah, woah! (Y/N) it’s me! Don’t swing!”
I drop the bat to my side and breathe a sigh of relief, “Buck, what the fuck are you doing here?!” I had given him a key to my apartment a while ago in case of emergencies but here lately, he had been using it just to come over and say hi or hang out when he couldn’t sleep. Even still, he usually lets me know ahead of time.
He shrugs, “I couldn’t sleep.”
Still confused, I tilt my head, “No text? No call?”
He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly turning around to attend to whatever he had brought with him, “I didn’t wanna wake you. I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”
It occurs to me why he had turned around so abruptly, “I-I’m gonna go put pants on,” I stutter out, looking down at my oversized hoodie and lack of pants.
As I turn to leave, he responds, “Y-yeah, I’m gonna make- make some coffee.” I shuffle to my room and retrieve a pair of sweatpants before tugging them on. When I return to the kitchen, throwing my hair up in a messy bun on the way, Buck is watching the coffee pot fill up with a bunch of Chinese food laid out on the bar.
I take a seat on a barstool as Buck notices my reentry, “We’re you hungry or something?”
He looks over his shoulder at me, shrugging, “I couldn’t decide what I wanted and I figured you’d been hungry when you woke up.”
“Speaking of waking up, I haven’t been able to sleep,” I jump as a bolt of lightning emits a white light through the window and thunder crashes soon after, “because of that bullshit outside.”
Buck turns around, handing me a warm mug of coffee, and nods, “Yeah, it’s been keeping me up too.” He makes his way over to my side and takes a seat in the other barstool. Together we consume nearly all of the buffet he bought and soon we’re plopping down onto the couch, having decided to watch a movie. As I’m scrolling through Netflix, I feel Buck’s eyes on me.
I look over at him and he immediately turns his attention back to the screen. “What? Do I have food on my face or something?” I ask, turning back to the TV.
“N-no,” he replies quietly.
I toss the remote onto the coffee table, forgetting about the movie, and turn my body to face his, “What’s wrong, Buckaroo?”
He shrugs, “Just been thinking a lot lately.”
I giggle, “That’s a first for you. Don’t hurt yourself,” I say picking at him.
He finally looks into my eyes, “Too late.”
My brows scrunch together and I frown, “What do you mean?”
His gaze drops to his lap as he fiddles with his fingers, “I’ve caught feelings for someone but I’m almost positive they won’t feel the same way. Not to mention it’s not a good idea for me to date them, I don’t wanna risk them getting hurt.”
I pat his shoulder, “Buck, Honey, Sweetheart,” he looks up at me, “First of all, you never know how someone feels unless you ask. Secondly, anybody would be lucky to date you and insane to not feel the same. Finally,” I place my hand on his arm, “why do you think they’d get hurt just by being with you?”
He seems to think for a moment, “I mean, my job comes with risks. There might be a day where I don’t come home from work and she gets a knock on her door from the LAFD…” he trails off.
“Buck, you can’t go through life afraid to do something just because you might die… When you love someone, you walk through life side by side no matter what might come,” I state gently, rubbing small circles into his arm with my thumb.
He stares at his lap for a few silent minutes. Just as I take a breath, about to speak again, he takes my hand in his, “What if I’m scared of losing the friendship I already have with her because she might not feel the same?”
I feel my cheeks heat up as he stares into my eyes. My heart skips a beat thinking he might actually be talking about me. I swallow those thoughts as I reply, “Buck, if she’s truly your friend, you won’t lose her. It’ll be something the two of you need to discuss throughly but if she values her friendship with you then she’ll be smart enough to work it out.”
He takes a deep breath, never breaking eye contact, “(Y/N), do you value our friendship enough to work through it if you don’t feel the same as I do?”
I smile softly at him, trying not to get my hopes up, “Of course I do, Buck. I value our friendship above most things.”
“(Y/N), I’m in love with you,” he blurts out, looking away to fiddle with the string of his hoodie this time.
I place my hand on his cheek and nudge him to look at me. Upon making eye contact, I confess, “I’m in love with you too, Buck.”
The smile that arches across his face is so bright even the flashing lightning outside couldn’t compare. He leans forward, placing his forehead against mine, closing his eyes, “Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?” I nod happily and he takes the opportunity to kiss me. Unfortunately, our sweet moment is short lived as thunder booms outside.
I jump and glare at the window, “Way to ruin a good moment, Mother Nature.”
Buck laughs, pulling my attention back to him, “I know you got beef with her and all it let’s just drown Mother Nature out for once, yeah?”
I nod and curl into his side as he retrieves the remote and begins scrolling through Netflix once more. I glance up to see a smile still plastered on his face, a smile that mirrors my own. When he first started talking, I was scared I was losing him but now he’s mine and together we’ll take on the world.
Masterlist
More Evan Buckley Imagines
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May Pang, Sunday Mirror December 14, 1980
MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH LENNON
- I didn't steal her man - by Tony Frost
John Lennon's secret love has talked for the first time about her "beautiful and tender" affair with the tragic superstar.
Chinese beauty May Pang has fought back the tears and said: "I still can't believe he is dead. Now he is gone, I feel a part of me has died too."
Lennon turned to May after breaking up with his Japanese wife Yoko Ono in 1973. They spent eighteen 'Idyllic' months together - living in Los Angeles for six months, then setting up a love-nest on New York's fashionable East Side, before Lennon eventually went back to Yoko.
Only a few close friends knew of Lennon's romance with May, who was once secretary to him and Yoko. The affair was deliberately concealed from fans.
May, 30 but looking ten years younger, overcame her grief at last week's assassination of the ex-Beatle to give me an exclusive interview at her Manhattan apartment. "They were such magical times", she said. "Thank God, no one can take away my precious memories. I count myself as a very lucky woman to have shared some of John's most tender moments, his private thoughts and, most of all, his love. John brought me more happiness than I could hope to find in a lifetime with another man."
May originally worked for apple, the Beatles recording company. She became very close to Yoko and helped her in women's lib campaigns.
"I don't want to say anything that might be hurtful to Yoko", she said. "She was always very kind to me. I didn't steal her man - they had broken up before John and I became lovers. I know she is deeply upset, and my heart goes out to her. But I have shed as many tears as Yoko."
Last Monday night, when Mark Chapman pumped five bullets into Lennon outside his New York home, May was at a friend's flat half a mile away.
"We had the radio on," said May. "The disc jockey suddenly interrupted saying 'John Lennon has been shot'. At first I thought it was some kind of a sick joke. The initial news flash said that John was wounded. A few minutes later it was announced that he was at the hospital being operated on. I began shuddering and held my breath. I prayed that it wasn't true, but the third bulletin revealed the awful truth - John was dead. I screamed hysterically for several minutes.
I stayed in bed for two days, sobbing and just thinking of John. I couldn't eat or sleep - my body was so numb from shock."
TOO UPSET
"The only thing I managed to do was pull a call through to Yoko. One of her aides answered the phone, saying she was too upset to talk to me. I can understand her feelings. Perhaps she cannot forgive me for loving John as much as her, and I feel I have no right to intrude into her sorrow. I left a message that I would gladly to anything to help her or their little boy Sean."
May's flat is a shrine to Lennon. Two pictures that she took of John - one showing him shirtless on a beach in California, the other relaxing with ex-Beatles drummer Ringo Starr - take pride of place.
A note that Ringo slipped through the door of their New York home is pinned on the wall. "Dear John and May, Popped round to see you. Will call again."
May has all of Lennon'd records but her most treasured possession is a doodle he produced.
"He was talking about finding peace and tranquility in his twilight years," she said. "He sketched for several minutes and handed me a drawing of himself as a little old man. 'That's how I'll look, when I'm 64,' he told me."
Lennon obsessed with assassination during the early Beatlemania years, later curbed his fear of death.
"His great desire was to grow old gracefully," said May. "Some people fear old age, but John actually looked forward to it."
May, who was nicknamed 'Mother superior' by Lennon because she loved to organise things at his recording sessions, now works for Rod Stewart's record company. She cuddled two pet cats as she told of the gentle side of Lennon.
"When he read about callous acts of violence throughout the world, he would take it all so personally. 'Guns are for cowboys in the movies,' he said. John wanted desperately to be accepted at the level of the ordinary man. He always shunned bodyguards, to avoid attention being drawn to him."
WITTY VERSES
In a magazine interview shortly before his death Lennon said he had sometimes beat up his women.
"He was never like that with me," said May. "He was a kind, caring and gentle companion. We would often stay up until dawn discussing music and the world's problems. Sometimes as we lay in bed he would recite poetry - nothing heavy just little witty, amusing verses - or sing to me. He was a real romantic and I don't believe he was capable of hurting a fly."
Lennon's fling with May ended after he bumped into Yoko backstage at an Elton John concert in New York.
She suggested he should improve his health by cutting down on alcohol, losing weight and stopping smoking. An appointment was made for him to visit a hypnotist who treated heavy smokers. Friends say that after his first session in the hypnotist's chair Lennon walked "almost spell-bound" back to Yoko's flat. From then the two were inseperable.
"When John went back to Yoko I knew it was finished between us forever, because he was a loyal and honorable person", said May.
He was faithful during our time together and since he returned to Yoko there was never any question of him looking at another woman."
The last time May spoke to Lennon was three years ago ata party at Regine's nightclub in New York. "He was very careful in his choice of words because Yoko never left his side," said May.
"I believe he could sense that I had never stopped loving him. I will love him forever. There will always be a corner of my heart reserved for John Lennon.
Lennon's affair was observed by Chris Charlesworth, then American editor of Melody Maker.
Chris, 33, said in London: "He was obviously infatuated with May. Yoko thought it would be a short-lived fling while John sowed his wild oats.
I don't think he could ever get Yoko out of his mind. He used to ring her every few days just to hear her voice."
Chris said: "Dying so young was something that never entered John's head. 'When I'm 64, Yoko and I will be a doddery old couple living in a tiny cottage in Ireland,' he said. "Yoko envisaged them growing all their own vegetable and milking a couple of goats every day."
Lennon gave the reason why the fab four could never perform together again.
He told Chris: "If we got our act together it wouldn't be as good as the old days. We're rusty old men."
The world will now never know if he meant it.
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potential//spencer reid blurb
summary: gn!reader works late with Spencer and begins to question their feelings about him.
pairing: gn!reader x baby!Spencer
word count: 1.1k
content warnings: literally just fluff!
a/n: hi guys!! sorry it’s been so long i’ve had a long spring. but i’m with Pri rn in Europe and i’ll be writing nonstop for a program so i’m getting back into cm rn. i miss being on here and i’m so excited to share more. anyway enjoy this fluff!
masterlist
you slip a headache pill into your mouth before taking the first sip of your coffee, looking up at the mostly empty bull pen. you probably should have switched over to chamomile tea or something, but you're not sure when you'll get to go home. there's been a bunch of paperwork today, and you're determined to finish it. something about a stack of disorganized and empty sheets on your desk gives you anxiety.
from here, you can see Hotch sitting in his office, the lamp casting a warm glow over his scowling face. JJ has just gone home, but the floral scent of her perfume still lingers in the kitchen area. you lean against the counter and try not to watch the clock.
just as you're about to return to your desk, the shuffling sound of footsteps in the hallway startles you. there aren't usually many people around this late. you set the mug down gingerly and listen. the footsteps stop for a moment, then start again, sounding closer.
you try to think of who else might be here late and come up empty. everyone seemed like they had plans for whatever free time they were given here. it wasn't helping that someone had snuck into the building not too long ago. they didn't try to reach the BAU's floor, but it shook you regardless. such a fortress-like workplace was incredibly difficult to get into without proper identification.
you shake your head at your own paranoia. the chances of it happening again are a sliver at best, and even then you know Hotch is here. it's not like you'd be alone.
still, you find yourself moving slowly through the kitchen area, holding your breath as the footsteps stop and start again.
you're about to turn the corner to see the elevators when you run right into someone. you know it's Spencer before you even have the chance to look up. you know his wrinkled button-up and his thin frame and his coffee-grounds-and-ink scent. and you especially know the uncomfortable sound he lets out when the collision startles him.
"oh god." you shake your head, your hand instinctually resting on Spencer's arm. you straighten to look up at him, his expression slightly flustered.
"sorry." he glances down at himself as though worried you've put yet another wrinkle in his shirt, then at your hand. you drop it.
"I didn't know you were working late." you can feel your lips turning up in a grin as you say it.
you and Spencer have gotten close since you started working with the BAU— or as close as Spencer really lets the people he hasn't known long. you like the earnestness and honesty of his disposition. it makes you feel safe.
"I just wanted to pick up some food." he lifts one of his hands to show a takeout bag with the receipt still stuck on front. Chinese food.
"I was worried you were another intruder." you set a hand on your chest, heart rate dropping to a healthier level. Spencer just frowns.
"the likelihood of that happening again is nearly infinitesimal. they've practically doubled security since the last time." he finishes the statement with a smile, like he's trying to assure you.
"ah, well that's good." you nod slowly. the delicious smells wafting from the takeout bag make your stomach growl. to your horror, Spencer notices it.
"I got too many egg rolls, if you'd like to have some." he offers. you know he doesn't usually share food, so the genuine kindness in his eyes softens you up even more. he seems like he's been having a long night too.
"sure. thanks." you turn to head back into the office, Reid at your heels. quickly, you turn around and whisper in his ear. "you should bring some to Hotch."
your friend practically shudders at the idea. "no way."
you laugh and head to the kitchen to get some plates for the food while Spencer unpacks everything with care. there's the box of egg rolls, but also tons of noodles, rice, and delicious-smelling chicken that make your mouth water.
"I was hungry." Spencer seems like he's trying to defend himself with the way you're staring at the spread of food. his brow is furrowed as he watches you get utensils from the kitchen drawers.
"I didn't say anything." you laugh.
"you were thinking it."
"just put some egg rolls on a plate for me, would you?" you roll your eyes playfully as he does what you say.
before long, the two of you are eating in silence together, your feet resting on the edge of an empty chair.
"how's your mom?" he asks as you polish off a box of dumplings.
"good. she really liked meeting you guys last week," you smile. your mother had come to visit and gone out to dinner with the team for about half an hour, when you were all called onto a new case. she knows your job is demanding, though; she just wanted to put some faces to names. especially Spencer, who she thought was God's gift to earth. "she loved you."
"really?" he lights up at this.
"yeah. you remind her of someone from her childhood, I guess."
"they must be really funny and smart." he smirks down at his plate, but the joking tone still lands and brings a smile to your face.
"did you just make a joke, Dr. Reid?" you look at him with surprise.
"maybe."
"wow," you shake your head and pop open another takeout box. "you are not the man I thought you were."
"and what man was that?" he raises an eyebrow, the smile still in his voice. you can tell he's genuinely curious, though.
"serious all the time, hates fun."
"I don't hate fun."
"sure." you wink at him over the food. just before you look back down, you notice the blush creeping up his neck and over his cheeks. it's subtle. you find your heart beating a bit quicker. you like the effect you have on him. it spreads a warmth through your stomach, the kind of blush he wouldn't be able to see.
you watch him for a moment, struggling with his chopsticks and finally getting it right, his focused expression melting into one of quiet triumph. there's something about him that reminds you of home. whatever your mom saw, some glimmer of nostalgic affection, you see it too. it's the kind of feeling that makes you want to grab his hand; but that would be unprofessional, of course.
instead, you look back at your food and try to push the thought away.
taglist (add yourself here!):
@katexrichardson @ashcakes1918 @xoxospencerreid @willowrose99 @lelifesaver @dr-spencerr-reid @spenxerslut @gingeraleluke @satanxklaus @chasemoonlight @spencerreid9 @deansdoll @sydeekomspacekru @go2sleepducky @queenofthepouges @wheelsupscenehater @vladsgirlxx @velociraptor8 @bottomoftheketchylisy @totallyclearwitch @megsradiosilence @gublerscherry @muffin-cup @rougewamchop @mmotionlessgirl12 @mochionly @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @honeyboysteezy @zooaliaa @spencer-reid-am-i-right @spencerscumrag @mystical-and-modern-marauder @strawberrycherrykisses
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Me after forgetting to upload the school's students council uniform and some important infos: 🤨😦😧😰😭
Anyways:
Student council committee is a committee consist of 5 members, they are a group of interns who just finished studying at any ninjutsu schools that get accepted as staffs at Seichou academy.
Their job is to provide safety for the students for example; listening to anything that has been bothering them, helping them with any tasks and most importantly they are who intruders or ambushers needs to pass thru first.
Infos ( students council ):
- this committee has 2 female and 3 male
- on some occasions some of the members wore a scarf
- whenever somebody wants to pass thru the forest or hills that is equipped with the students traps training they would disguise themselves as other people so they can guide the person without getting caught being a staff for a ninjutsu school that no one has ever heard about
Some more infos I forgot to put yesterday:
Foreigner students has their own class and it is mixed between both genders because there's not a lot of foreigner students. Each grade has two class for foreigners, one for Chinese students and the other is for Korean students.
One teacher is assigned to each class and the teacher would be teaching both theory and academics alongside tactical skills.
Infos ( foreigner students ):
- some underclassmen can't understand each others very well because of the language barrier, which is why there are translators at this school
- because of the diversity in this school it is resulting into it having a cultural festival every end of May so they can learn and respect each others ( say no to racism :3 )
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Ok, random thoughts on dramas I finished watching this month (some of which I've been dragging out since July).
Meet Yourself (cdrama) 10 ⭐️
It's the first cdrama I've seen that I felt was well-acted and felt genuine. Perhaps because the ML has a personality and isn't simply some stone-cold dude and the FL (who I was obsessed with) is mature and insightful.
It’s very light and yet deeply meaningful. Yes, it could be a little draggy at times (could have been shorter), but I can't really complain because I didn't want it to end. You really find yourself falling in love with the entire town, as well as most secondary characters.
A Time Called You (kdrama) 8
It was really emotional, but I lost interest in episode 9 and wanted it to end. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t fully understand what was going on or because, although I like time travel plots, this one was just too twisty for me to get.
King The Land (kdrama) 8/8.5?
People complaining because it had no plot— what do you mean? The plot was ✨love✨
I mean yeah, I get it, though, because I started it in August and finished it in October (I got low-key bored on episode 11). The .5 is only because Yoona and Jun Ho’s chemistry was insanely good, like the kind of chemistry where you feel like you're intruding on them or something.
My Lovely Liar (kdrama) 7.5
This one was all over my fyp on tiktok, and I'm not sure why everyone was so into it.
I initially started to watch it because of Kim So Hyun. The first eight episodes were okay. I wasn't particularly intrigued by the mystery of who the killer of the ML’s girlfriend was, but it was enough to keep me going. But, later on, I just wasn't into it at aaall. The ML and FL were cute, but i didn’t feel any spark between them :\
Here We Meet Again (cdrama) 8
Another cdrama with good acting 🙌🏽 lol I swear I’m not bashing Chinese dramas, it's just I watched some questionable ones. I wasn’t that much into the whole work thing but, let's be honest, I only saw this one because FL and ML were the cutest and had an insane chemistry.
Why I Dress Up for Love (jdrama) 9
Workaholic social media girl moves into a house with four roommates and ends up having a situationship with one of them.
This is my fourth jdrama (Only Just Married, The Fallen High School Girl and The Crippled Teacher, and A Girl and Three Sweethearts), and it is without a doubt the best one and most likely a future all-time favourite. The obstacles the characters experienced were not too deep, but enough to soften you, and the chemistry was excellent. It was simple, natural and cute. An overall feel good 👌🏽
Destined With You (kdrama) 8.5/9 still not sure lol
Okay, I’ll be honest, this probably doesn’t deserve a 9. That whole extra point is for Rowoon's face and Bo Ah's cuteness.
I feel like the writers of this one got down and began pulling out pieces of paper from a bag full of common clichés that are currently used in dramas. Past lives lovers? Check. Sort of enemies to lovers? Check. Rich ML x Poor orphan FL? Check (although a little twist with the mom being the cutest mother ever) Mean ex girlfriend who can’t get over ML? Check. A culprit dressed all in black who is after the FL? Check. I don’t know what else but I’m sure there’s more… and it should have been boring but somehow they made it work?!?! And I was so into it?!? The comedy was comeding, the chemistry was chemistring, the Samsung phones were samsunging (?), Subway was there, music was banging? Magic was entertaining, even the angsty moments were hitting.
Like yeah, I don’t know. Maybe it was Rowoon and his perfect face or maybe this was a really entertaining and romantic watch. Anyway, a 9.
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''La OTAN celestial'' debió crearse por los estragos de Wukong (juntos con el de otros seres mitológicos) pero lo del mono creo que fue la llamada de atención. y algo como esto debió ser plasmado en escritos o simplemente no era ''relevante'' o secreto
Translated via google:
"''The heavenly NATO'' must have been created by the ravages of Wukong (along with other mythological beings) but I think the monkey thing was the wake-up call. and something like this must have been written down or it simply wasn't ''relevant'' or secret"
I think it would work like SCP Foundation rules: the gods of a particular pantheon only get involved if their domain is intruded. A chinese monkey demon causing trouble for the Jade Emperor is the Celestial Realm's problem. But if Wukong had gone a little more west and tried taking over Olympus instead; then it becomes a Heavenly NATO problem.
Sun Wukong: *eating golden apples on Zeus' throne*
Hermes: "I like this funky little dude."
Athena: "He's literally trying to dethrone our father."
Ares: "No great loss. I admire the simian's bloodshed."
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Why Archeologists Are Scared To Open The Tomb Of China's First Emperor
Booby traps and mercury poisoning are just some of the concerns around opening the tomb of Qin Shi Huang.
In 1974, farmers stumbled across one of the most important archaeological discoveries of all time in an unassuming field in the Shaanxi province of China. While digging, they found fragments of a human figure made out of clay. This was just the tip of the iceberg. Archaeological excavations revealed the field was sitting above a number of pits that were jam-packed with thousands of life-size terracotta models of soldiers and war horses, not to mention acrobats, esteemed officials, and other animals.
It appears that the mission of this Terracotta Army was to guard the nearby mausoleum of Qin Shi Huang, the formidable first emperor of the Qin dynasty who ruled from 221 to 210 BCE.
While large parts of the necropolis surrounding the mausoleum have been explored, the emperor’s tomb itself has never been opened despite the huge amount of intrigue that surrounds it. Eyes have perhaps not peered inside this tomb for over 2,000 years, when the feared emperor was sealed inside.
A prime reason behind this hesitancy is that archeologists are concerned about how the excavation might damage the tomb, losing vital historical information. Currently, only invasive archaeological techniques could be used to enter the tomb, running a high risk of causing irreparable damage.
One of the clearest examples of this comes from the excavations of the city of Troy in the 1870s by Heinrich Schliemann. In his hastiness and naivety, his work managed to destroy almost all traces of the very city he’d set out to uncover. Archaeologists are certain they don't want to be impatient and make these same mistakes again.
Scientists have floated the idea of using certain non-invasive techniques to look inside the tomb. One idea is to utilize muons, the subatomic product of cosmic rays colliding with atoms in the Earth's atmosphere, that can peer through structures like an advanced X-ray. However, it looks like most of these proposals have been slow to get off the ground.
Cracking open the tomb could come with much more immediate and deadly dangers too. In an account written by ancient Chinese historian Sima Qian around 100 years after Qin Shi Huang’s death, he explains that the tomb is hooked up to booby traps that were designed to kill any intruder.
“Palaces and scenic towers for a hundred officials were constructed, and the tomb was filled with rare artifacts and wonderful treasure. Craftsmen were ordered to make crossbows and arrows primed to shoot at anyone who enters the tomb. Mercury was used to simulate the hundred rivers, the Yangtze and Yellow River, and the great sea, and set to flow mechanically,” it reads.
Even if the 2,000-year-old bow weapons fail, this account suggests a flood of toxic liquid mercury could wash across the grave diggers. That might sound like an empty threat, but scientific studies have looked at mercury concentrations around the tomb and found significantly higher levels than they’d expect in a typical piece of land.
“Highly volatile mercury may be escaping through cracks, which developed in the structure over time, and our investigation supports ancient chronicle records on the tomb, which is believed never to have been opened/looted,” authors of one 2020 paper conclude.
For the time being, the tomb of Qin Shi Huang remains sealed and unseen, but not forgotten. When the time is right, however, it’s possible that scientific advancements could finally delve into the secrets that have been lying here undisturbed for some 2,200 years.
By Tom Hale
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Home Again, Home Again
Marcus Moreno x fem!reader
Warnings: None! This is just pure fluffiness.
Summary: It’s always hard being away from the one you love, but when the one you love is a superhero the distance feels far greater. But that just means the return home is all the sweeter.
A/N: This little fluff fest was a request by my lovely friend, @your-slutty-gf. Business trips can feel endless when you know there’s someone wonderful waiting for you back home. I Hope you and your fella are reunited soon, luv 🥰
It seems as though the world has only grown crazier and crazier since 2020. You mean besides the pandemic and political turmoil and senseless violence and all the other garbage.
Every week there’s a new supervillain attack or three. A new alien invasion or national state of emergency. And every week that means your man is off to do what he does best: Save the world.
You knew damn well what you were getting into when you fell head over heels for Marcus Moreno. Dating a superhero meant constant danger, constant leaping into action to perform some derring-do, and constant worry. It wouldn’t have been worth the trouble if he weren’t so absolutely wonderful.
The two of you had met on the job; him defending the city from certain doom with all his cohorts while you, a dedicated journalist, covered the action from a somewhat safe location, snapping photo after photo of all the harrowing action and jotting down notes for the article that would recount the events to the masses.
You’d seen him coming through the lens of your camera as he dove to pull you out of the path of the falling rubble you hadn’t seen coming at all. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but you’d definitely felt something when you’d looked into his eyes.
From then on, whenever he’d jump into action so did you. You became a regular Superman and Lois Lane. And something more. It started with playful banter and gradually evolved into straight up flirting. Flirting became dates, which became a relationship, which led to you moving in with he and his daughter. And in the middle of all that came the cheesiest love confession you’d ever heard.
“I can’t believe this entire time I’ve been dating a criminal.”
“You’ve lost me, Moreno.”
“You’re a no-good crook. Because you’ve stolen my heart.“
The only thing stronger than his powers is his love. The intensity of that force makes it all the more noticeable when you’re without it.
He’d only just returned from London last Friday after he and the team had defeated a hoard of alien body snatchers attempting to impersonate the British monarchy. Come Monday he was jetting off to Japan to deal with a Kaiju situation. It’s now Thursday and you’ve heard barely a word since he’d left again.
***
Missy waves goodbye from the back of Mrs. Miracle Guy’s (you really should learn her name) minivan and you brace yourself for another lonely night in. A little leftover Chinese, a cozy set of pajamas, and some light Netflix binging are in order. After a very long, very warm shower.
You stand beneath the pounding spray, letting it wash every last worry out of your tense muscles and weary bones. There they go spiraling down the drain; every “I hope he’s okay” and each “Is he getting enough rest?”
The water has just started to grow cold when the shower curtain parts and you feel a hand wrapping around your own.
“I’m home, hon—“
“INTRUDER!!”
You deliver a swift roundhouse kick to the thin barrier between you and your unwelcome guest and feel your foot connect with something on the other side—Stomach? Chest? Testicles?—followed by a groaning exhalation of air.
The force of your maneuver, coupled with the slipperiness of the inside of the tub has you teetering through the curtain—yanking it from its rings on the way down—and spiraling out of the shower and landing atop your attacker in a wet heap of torn fabric and damp nudity.
“Listen here, criminal scum! My boyfriend’s a superhero. He could kick your ass into a coma if I give the word,” you threaten, hoping he won’t realize how empty that threat is at the moment.
“Oh, I’m aware,” the assailant wheezes.
That voice, even breathless, is familiar. You fumble with the downed curtain and liner to find the man buried beneath.
“Marcus?!”
“Surprise.”
“You’re home?”
“I’m home.”
Your fear turns to joy in the fraction of a second. “Oh, my God, I missed you! How are you? Where did I kick you?”
“Missed you, too, exhausted, and I think you know exactly where you kicked me.”
You offer him an apology before leaning down eagerly for a kiss before realizing that he’s smeared head to toe in some kind of purple goop.
“And what is this?”
“That,” he sighs, “would be kaiju guts.”
“You just….decided to fly home like that, huh?”
You help him sit up and listen to the symphony of cracks, pops, and grunts his exhausted body makes.
“I pretty much just walked right off the battlefield. I just couldn’t take it anymore, sweetheart. I teleported home and left the others to deal with the mess. Which I realize, now that I’m saying it out loud, was a total dick move.”
“Three days just to kill one rampaging giant lizard?”
“Four. It had babies.”
“No wonder you’re exhausted.”
He looks so tired; body, mind, and soul. The world is running him too ragged. Still—and this is one of the truly amazing things you love about Marcus Moreno—his still musters enough residual energy to give you a smile.
“I missed you, sweetheart.”
You give him that kiss you’d been holding onto. Monster goo be damned. “I missed you, too, you goof.”
“Where’s Missy?”
Once again ignoring the purple gore slicking his skin, you lean into him and wrap your arms around his neck. Good thing you’re naked because that will really help to drive your next words home.
“She happens to be at a sleepover. So, maybe, you and I could have one of our own.” You throw in a seductive eyebrow waggle as a bonus.
“Oh, yeah? You’d want me like this? Covered in essence of Godzilla?”
“Watch how casually you toss around the “G” name. You don’t wanna add copyright infringement to your list of stressors, do you?”
“Right,” he snorts.
“And Marcus Moreno, I will take you any way I can possibly have you. That includes covered in monster muck or worse.”
He returns your kiss with one he’s been waiting to give you since he walked out the door on Monday.
“You have me, sweetheart. But before that ‘sleepover’ gets underway, I really would like a shower.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.”
***
One hour later you’re both in your coziest jammies and sagging onto the sofa, curling your bodies together like two puzzle pieces finally uniting to form the perfect picture.
“Hey, wait a second. Why is Apple saying we’re on episode eight of ‘Ted Lasso’? We’d only just watched episode four before I left.”
“That is….most peculiar,” you shrug.
“Baby. You didn’t.”
“Um…it was Missy.”
“You watched ‘Ted Lasso’ without me?”
You beg forgiveness with your eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Betrayal!!”
“We can rewatch together!”
“That doesn’t make it hurt less!”
You missed this. The playful squabbling, the cuddling and closeness. The you, the him, the we and the us. Nothing feels right when you aren’t together. But no matter the distance or the days between you he’ll always come home, so long as you’re there waiting.
Ted and his soccer team believe in “Believe”. You believe in Marcus.
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